Faced with Voldemort's provocation, Dumbledore's body jolted violently.
He raised the Elder Wand again, only for Voldemort to interrupt him with a seemingly casual gesture—an invisible force struck the ground beneath Dumbledore's feet.
It blasted a deep crater open, sending rubble flying.
"Professor, Professor..." Voldemort shook his head, his tone that of someone lecturing a disobedient student. "I told you, your opponent is me. Focus, will you?"
He bowed once more, his scarlet eyes brimming with mad laughter.
"Now, let us begin."
He raised his wand and performed a standard dueling salute.
In the distance, screams continued to ring out, and the stench of blood began to spread through the air.
And Ian still stood there quietly, like a shadow that had been completely forgotten. Voldemort's invitation to duel was like poison cast into stagnant water, spreading a suffocating air of madness.
"Tom... you're crazier than before!" Dumbledore gripped the Elder Wand tightly, fury and grim resolve burning in his azure eyes, yet he could not break away—Voldemort's scarlet gaze was like an invisible chain, locking him down completely. Any attempt to rescue the Muggles would immediately be met with the merciless interception of this newly risen legendary Dark Lord.
Grindelwald stood to the side, her mismatched eyes narrowing slightly as she rapidly assessed the situation. She held no wand, but nearly a century of magical attainment allowed her to wield powerful Dark Magic even barehanded. Still, the way Voldemort had casually blocked her Fiendfyre attack had made her keenly realize that this mad, arrogant junior truly possessed some incomprehensible power beyond all conventional limits.
And Ian—
The black-haired young man whom Voldemort had utterly ignored still stood quietly where he was, as though he were merely a spectator with nothing to do with the bloody conflict about to erupt.