Heavenly Demon Descends Upon the World

Voldemort struck first. With a flick of his wand, a deathly beam of green so dark it was nearly black tore through the air, shooting straight for Dumbledore's heart. At the same instant, Barbarossa swept his wand fiercely upward, and a mighty waterspout rose from the lake's surface.

Herpo raised a hand, ancient dark-purple runes blooming at his fingertips. The void began to twist, the earth began to tremble, as though the entire cave and its lake were about to be dragged into an endless abyss.

Dumbledore did not retreat.

He turned sideways, his wand tracing a perfect silver arc. The phantom of a phoenix burst open behind him, its golden-red wings of flame instantly illuminating the entire cave. The Killing Curse was swallowed by the phoenix's phantom, dissipating into wisps of black smoke.

Barbarossa's waterspout crashed against the silver shield condensed before Dumbledore, erupting with a piercing clash of metal; the instant Herpo's rune array touched the phoenix fire, it hissed as though scorched by holy light.

The lake water boiled violently. From the depths came chilling writhing sounds and low roars, as though some colossal creature had been awakened.

Dumbledore's movements remained elegant and precise, every sweep of his wand like the composition of a silent melody. But against three beings standing at the pinnacle of darkness, every defense came at a heavy price—one curse grazed his left shoulder, instantly charring his robes black and sending searing pain through his flesh; another stream of black mist coiled in from the side. He spun sharply, silver light bursting forth, yet Barbarossa's spiraling water blades still forced him back half a step.

"You're old, Dumbledore." Barbarossa sneered, his wand leaving afterimages through the air. "Your era should have ended long ago."

Dumbledore took a breath, his silver beard trembling faintly