540: Believers of Deep Space

Albus Dumbledore was still obsessed with that obsession as illusory as a dream bubble.

The path to resurrection.

It was a deeply concealed yet burning desire in the side of him no one knew.

And Raven

was the path Dumbledore had found that came closest to success.

The myth within Limbo spoke of a ruler who held dominion over life, death, and fate—one who had toyed with life and death more than once throughout history. It was the hope Dumbledore had spent years searching for.

Now, Grindelwald had placed the thing he desired most right before his eyes.

How could Dumbledore possibly not seize it?

Of course.

He still had to consider whether this was yet another of Grindelwald's schemes. Even as one of the people closest to her, Dumbledore could never fully fathom her heart.

This might be a gamble.

Should he take it?

Dumbledore's thoughts churned like a raging sea.

Time trickled by in silence.

Every second felt exceptionally long.

Crystal radiance silently spilled down, fixing the figures of the two old men on either side of the stone table like ancient statues weathered by countless centuries.

Only their barely audible breathing remained in the tower, while the pie, long gone cold yet seeming to still tell tales of the world outside, silently bore witness to this wordless contest.

Grindelwald's mismatched eyes reflected Dumbledore's contemplative profile. He appeared extraordinarily patient, even carrying an almost appreciative composure. He understood Albus Dumbledore as well as he understood the lines on his own palm.

His wisdom, his sense of responsibility, his curiosity toward the unknown, his vigilance toward potential danger, and the craving for "possibility" buried deep in his heart—a craving even Dumbledore himself might be unwilling to acknowledge.

These traits were like precise gears. Under the right pressure and input