Voldemort's heart clenched at those words, and deep fear began to grow within him.
"But it doesn't matter... I've already dealt with him first." "My Lord" shook his head. "Besides, the whole world is mine. Why should I listen to him...?"
He lowered his head to look at Voldemort. "What do you think?"
Feeling "My Lord's" gaze, Voldemort was filled with unease and uncertainty. He realized he had no way of guessing what this madman called "My Lord" might do to him.
At that moment, he could even somewhat understand the Death Eaters of the past.
Perhaps, in the eyes of many Death Eaters, his former self had been much like "My Lord"—a madman whose moods shifted without warning and whose thoughts were impossible to fathom.
"My Lord" had no interest in Voldemort's inner turmoil. Instead, he turned to everyone who had attacked him earlier. "You too..."
His gaze met theirs. Just as he had looked into Neville's eyes and searched the depths of Neville's soul for secrets, he easily sensed what everyone was thinking.
"Has Wizet Lovegood truly changed you that much? Even when all hope is gone, you still want to hold on?"
"It doesn't matter. I have plenty of time." He gently shook his head and turned toward the night sky.
The moon, which had once hung high in the heavens, was now terrifyingly close.
Everyone present felt that what stood before them was no longer the familiar moon, but an unprecedentedly massive mountain descending from the sky.
It stretched across the night, occupying nearly half the heavens, as though it would crush the earth beneath it in the next instant.
The mottled shadows on its surface also grew ever clearer as it approached, spreading distinctly before everyone's eyes.
The rims of craters, gray-white ravines...
All were