It was like a signal. Apart from the troops below the stage, the ordinary wizards watching from the heights nearby, and the victimized wizards in front of their televisions, all heard the wizards' rhythmic cries echoing again and again: "War!"
"Albert Harris." Owen's tone was different from usual now, clearly carrying the force of a military command.
Hearing himself called, Albert took a step forward, thrust out his chest, stood ramrod straight, and raised his hand to his minister father in the wizarding salute that had now basically come to be regarded as a military salute.
"I appoint you commander of the legion formed from the Armed Aurors, and grant it the designation—the Great Britain Regiment!" Owen commanded in a ringing, forceful voice.
"Yes, sir!" Without another word, Albert saluted again after receiving the order, then stepped back to one side.
"Penelope Clearwater." Owen's gaze turned to Penelope, who was dressed in uniform and radiating killing intent from head to toe.
The heels of her Dragon-hide boots snapped together with a sharp crack. For once, Penelope abandoned her usual wanton posture and stood tall and straight.
"I appoint you to lead Umbrella's volunteer wizards as their commander, and grant them the designation—the Krieg Death Corps." Compared with when he had just appointed Albert, Owen's tone did not change at all.
"Yes, sir!" Penelope lifted her head proudly and returned the salute, her red lips pressed tightly together, her expression solemn and cold.
"Ramona Rosier." Owen called out the name of the third commander.
Wolf Mom, her hair tied into the same clean, neat ponytail as her daughter's, also came over, stood at attention, and saluted.
"I appoint you commander of the legion formed from the Hit Wizards and Patrol Aurors, and assign thirteen Viking Death Knights to you to make