At this moment, waves of astonished cries had already risen from the stands. After all, blanket firepower was always the best way to display one's combat strength.
Faced with a sky full of spells, most wizards asked themselves honestly and concluded that they probably had no ability to resist at all.
Even the Aurors below the stage felt a faint sense of fear.
"I suddenly feel like I've wasted more than forty years of my life." A middle-aged Auror from the United States swallowed hard.
"Even if you gave me another three sets of forty years, I probably still couldn't cast magic on this scale."
"Who doesn't feel that way?" The Brazilian wizard beside him smacked his lips.
"Our Castelobruxo lost to her in this Six-Wizard Tournament."
"I wasn't convinced at first. I thought I'd simply been born at the wrong time. If I'd been born twenty-odd years later, that championship would have been mine."
"But now, I only feel lucky that I was born early enough to avoid getting utterly crushed by a monster like that."
"Stop talking and maintain the magical barrier properly!" An Auror who seemed to be the captain growled under his breath.
"If even one of those spells hits our barrier, I seriously doubt we can hold out for three seconds!"
"You still have the mood to chat in a situation like this? Docking your pay would be the least of it—watch out for the magic backfiring directly on you!"
The Aurors' expressions immediately tightened as they refocused on the wands in their hands.
Yet Peverell, who was about to face this attack head-on, still wore a smile. He lightly flicked his wand upward.
In an instant, several semi-transparent silver magical shields appeared in midair.
The shields settled around Peverell, and the silver glow upon