Confrontation

When the trophy flew into their hands, space instantly began to distort, and the three of them vanished from Riddle's Graveyard.

The Death Eaters were sent sprawling by the blast wave. Once the smoke cleared, they ran toward Voldemort in horror.

Their masks had all been blown off, revealing well-maintained faces.

They helped Voldemort to his feet. Having just been resurrected only to be blown up, Voldemort looked rather disheveled, with dust even clinging to his face.

Yet none of the Death Eaters dared laugh. They knew the Dark Lord's methods all too well. He might not have been able to defeat that person just now, but killing a few of them would be no problem.

"Master... Master..." Lucius Malfoy rushed to the front, looking so concerned that people might almost have believed him.

Voldemort struggled to his feet. "Get away!" He roughly shoved aside the people supporting him, then his scarlet eyes searched the ground ahead. When he saw the empty patch of land, his pale face immediately twisted into a hideous expression.

"No!" A roar echoed through the gloomy graveyard.

The Death Eaters lowered their heads in terror, afraid that the fiend would vent his fury on them.

Voldemort's steps were unsteady, and he staggered slightly. The explosion had truly injured him badly.

That had been an alchemical bomb Eli had carefully prepared, waiting to unleash its miraculous effect at a critical moment.

Eli had not dared use it at first. Why? Because Voldemort was at least alive, and he could still fling magic around. It would have been awful if he failed to blow Voldemort up and instead blew up his own people.

Even when he had used it just now, Eli had taken a risk. At such close range, he would certainly have been caught in