On the Brink of Battle

Skylar's appearance was like a beam of light piercing through the thick fog, and when he slowly stepped into the battle, the air seemed to quiet down for a moment.

His gaze first fell on Morgan le Fay, a slight smile playing on his lips, his tone flippant. "Beautiful Miss Morgan, we meet again. You seem to have recovered quite well; even your arm has grown back."

Morgan's expression froze, her gaze fixed on Skylar with an extremely complex expression. She had originally thought that even if her palm strike didn't kill Skylar, it would be enough to keep Skylar bedridden for months, but she never expected him to recover to his peak condition so quickly. Her eyes flickered slightly, and she suddenly looked behind him subconsciously, as if searching for something.

Skylar saw through her thoughts and smiled leisurely, "No need to look anymore, she didn't come."

Morgan's pupils contracted slightly. The "she" Skylar was referring to was the terrifying sniper from that day. The power of that shot was still unforgettable for her. With that level of marksmanship, she had no doubt that the other party had intentionally avoided her vitals. She was able to escape with her life that day thanks to the original owner of this body.

"However, regardless of whether she's here or not, don't think you can leave here easily today." Skylar's tone was calm, yet it carried a chilling threat.

Morgan scoffed, "You underestimate me far too much."

Despite her stubbornness, she couldn't help but recall the sudden gunshot that day and the bone-chilling fear that followed. That hasty escape wasn't because of Skylar, but because of the mysterious sniper lurking in the shadows who could take her life at any moment.

After hearing Skylar's words, she became even more suspicious and uncertain. There was no way around it; a sniper capable of long-range attacks was simply too intimidating.

(Although she saw Natalie last time, it was in the dark and at a distance, and the wizard knew how to Transfiguration, so she couldn't be sure if the sniper was one of the people coming.)

Skylar ignored her and then looked at Barbarossa.

"Barbarossa, you fled without a fight in France last time, and now you actually have the nerve to wade into this mess?"

Barbarossa licked his chapped lips, grinned sinisterly, and said, "Kid, you're getting a bit too arrogant. Aren't you afraid of getting caught off guard?"

Skylar chuckled softly and then turned his gaze to Anubi.

"Anubi, you should remember that time you ran away with that stinky fart at the Alchemy Conference, right?"

Anubi's eyes were narrowed, his muscles tense, as if he were about to pounce and tear Skylar apart, yet he seemed to be desperately suppressing his beastly instincts.

He could sense the power within Skylar that even he instinctively feared.

Finally, Skylar's gaze fell on the last black-robed wizard.

His expression was no longer frivolous; his eyes held a hint of seriousness.

The first four people, although all were powerful black wizards with notorious reputations and blood on their hands, had all been defeated by Skylar. Under Skylar's emperor-like aura, they were psychologically at a disadvantage.

But this terrifyingly young black-robed wizard was different.

That face blended the fortitude of the Middle East with the handsomeness of the West; his features were stern, his eyes calm, and most striking was his serene demeanor, as if everything in the world was irrelevant to him.

Skylar's pupils contracted slightly.

His Magic Eye could see through the magical properties within others, and these properties were generally reflected in a wizard's fighting style. This young wizard possessed a kind of magical power he had never seen before, a very primal one. If Professor Binns's description of the "Chaos Power" of ancient wizards had any form, then Skylar believed it must be like this.

This bloodline power... Skylar himself had undergone four bloodline reversions to reach his current level, but judging from the faint sense of oppression emanating from the man before him, his bloodline reversion level was probably even higher than his own.

Skylar raised an eyebrow, his tone remaining flippant. "Seeing is believing. You must be the mastermind behind Walpurgis, right? I didn't expect you to be so... young."

Herpo stared blankly at Skylar, a flicker of anger in his eyes. Skylar's words were clearly a mockery of his supposed rejuvenation. He frowned slightly, his lips tightened, and his pupils contracted sharply into Snake Eyes. He said stiffly, "Kid, there are many things you can't imagine..."

The sound was as low as the rolling of underground magma; though soft, it sent chills down everyone's spine.

"Perhaps you don't know, but ever since Black Sin Square was destroyed, I've been waiting for this moment—" Skylar smiled faintly, a confident and arrogant smile curving his lips, "I've finally met you, Herpo..."

"You know my name?" Herpo asked in surprise.

He had lived behind the scenes at Walpurgis for over a thousand years, never appearing in public. Apart from Dumbledore he had just spoken with, no one knew his true identity. Yet, Skylar had seen through it all the moment he arrived. How could Schelling not be surprised?

"I know far more than that—your body... belongs to the Ancient Persia Great Black Shaman Jafar Yahya, doesn't it? Good heavens, you directly possessed your own Horcrux; that ruthlessness is truly admirable."

Hearing this, Herpo finally dropped his previous dismissive attitude. His eyes became deep, and his voice carried an unprecedented seriousness.

"Impressive, it seems we all underestimated you," Herpo said, his previous composure gone, replaced by a hint of seriousness in his voice.

One aspect of the Wizarding Wars is the war of intelligence. The side with the intelligence advantage often gains the upper hand in actual combat and establishes an invincible position.

"I know far more than that, for example—" Skylar's eyes suddenly sharpened, and his aura intensified, "Your target today is the Prayer Wheel Portkey in the next room, isn't it? The Cliff City of Bhutan is your ultimate goal!"

Dumbledore nearby, suddenly seemed to understand, his face changing drastically as he considered a terrifying possibility. Having served as president of the International Wushu Federation for so many years, he clearly knew what kind of things were hidden in the Ancient Magic Temple behind the Cliff City.

At the same time, he couldn't help but feel secretly relieved. Over the years, in order to train Harry to fight Voldemort, he had indeed been too biased towards Gryffindor and the Pure-Blood Traitor Faction. But at the last moment of the Triwizard Tournament, he had finally shown goodwill to this Slytherin student. At least for this moment, Skylar was on his side.

"I didn't expect you to know even this, but so what?" Herpo said slowly, his voice extremely harsh.

"What I'm trying to say is that today—" Skylar gently raised his finger, pointing towards the large door marked with an X, the one leading to the room containing the Prayer Wheel, "You can't take it away."

Herpo narrowed his eyes, his Snake Eyes faintly glowing crimson, and purple snake scales slowly appeared on his face. His smile grew cold, "You and this rabble?"

He swept his gaze around with utter disdain, his icy stare causing many wizards to shudder involuntarily, some even taking a step back in fear.

Skylar didn't turn around, but calmly said, "No—"

He slowly stepped forward, a powerful yet gentle aura emanating from him. Then, the Serpent Ring on his hand flashed, and the Nether Night Wand slid into his grasp. In that instant, he seemed to be reborn, transforming from a mortal into a deity—

"Because I've come."