"Greetings" from the Flamel Family

The blood from that night in Knockturn Alley had not yet cooled.

Rumors about the "Red-Eyed Kid" had already spread through the underground world like a plague. Some scoffed at them, while others were deeply uneasy.

Uchiha Madara did not care.

From the mind of that Dark wizard, he had dug out a bloodstained list of names. Now, he intended to pay each of them a "personal visit."

His first stop was the Lawton family, a small family that specialized in brokering deals in Knockturn Alley.

Madara stood outside the Lawton residence, a crooked, ramshackle house. The glow of defensive magic flickered faintly across its walls. His expression did not change as he carefully observed it.

Inside, a furious argument was underway.

"More money! It took a hell of a lot of effort to find this! The eyes of the last Flamel witch!"

"More money? Not a chance! The price was set by contract with the big shots above! Besides, that little boy with the bounty on his head vanished! Those Hyena veterans are all dead! Who the hell knows who did it!" another voice retorted.

"Stop arguing, you old bastards. The lot of you should fight it out—whoever wins gets the final say!" "Yeah, yeah! Anyone who refuses is a coward!" The noisy clamor made it sound as if there were quite a few people inside.

Madara's gaze turned cold. He did not go through the front door. Moving along the wall like a ghost, he found the spot where the magical fluctuations were weakest. He pressed his fingers against it, and a thread of exceptionally condensed magic pierced inward like a drill.

With a soft pop, a small hole opened in the defenses. He slipped inside.

In the dim room, more than a dozen wizards with varying expressions were arguing. Closest to the door sat two male wizards and a witch, with a pile of Galleons and several sheets of parchment spread across the table. Hearing the noise, they turned around. When they saw Madara, their faces first froze in shock, then twisted with greed.

"Fuck... it's that little brat! He came right to us!" One bald wizard sneered as he grabbed his wand.

Madara gave him no chance to cast. Leaning forward, he kicked off the ground and closed the distance in an instant. In the bald wizard's widening, terrified eyes, a hand had already clamped around his throat.

Crack.

Clean and decisive. Madara released him, and the body crumpled limply to the floor.

The witch beside the bald man screamed, sending a red beam from her wand. "Stun—"

Before she could finish the word, Madara had already sidestepped it. He snatched up a heavy brass goblet from the table and smashed it into her temple with a backhand swing.

Bang! After a dull impact, the witch dropped without a sound.

The last male wizard collapsed onto the floor in terror, his wand falling beside him. "Don't... don't kill me... I... I have money..."

Madara walked over and looked down at him. There was no emotion in his scarlet eyes. "Who bought them?"

"W-what?"

"That Flamel witch. Who did you sell her to?" Madara's voice was calm, but it carried a bone-deep chill.

Trembling, the wizard gave several names.

Madara nodded after listening.

"Good."

He raised his foot and crushed the man's throat.

Over the next twenty minutes, the Lawton residence became a silent slaughterhouse. Madara did not use any large-scale ninjutsu, nor did he use much magic. He relied only on the body he had honed day and night, and the killing arts branded into his soul.

He snapped the guards' necks, slit patrolmen's throats with broken glass, and picked off isolated targets with needles dipped in paralytic poison... Like a scarlet shadow, he harvested lives in silence.

By the time the last Lawton family member had his cervical spine broken in despair, no one in the entire residence remained alive.

Madara stood in the blood-reeking sitting room, surrounded by the terrified, twisted corpses of the Lawton family. He picked up a bottle of Firewhisky from the table and poured half a glass, but did not drink it. He merely stared at the amber liquid. His scarlet eyes burned in the darkness like ghostly fire.

Then he smashed the entire bottle onto the floor and raised a finger. A faint yet incomparably condensed thread of magic gathered at his fingertip. The next moment, its nature abruptly changed, carrying a scorching aura—Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique!

Whoosh!

A blazing red fireball the size of a washbasin shot forth, igniting the liquor spilled across the floor with precision. Flames rapidly spread, devouring the evil and corpses within.

When he left, his figure blurred. In the horrified gaze of a House-Elf next door, only a fleeting flash of scarlet eyes remained.

The Lawton family was wiped out overnight, buried in a sea of flames. The next day, the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes ruled it an "out-of-control magical experiment," while those in Knockturn Alley who knew the truth felt chills down their spines.

A week later, on a rainy night, Madara found a group of Dark wizard hunters notorious for their cruelty.

Their headquarters lay beneath an abandoned church deep in Knockturn Alley.

At the entrance to the cellar, two wizards huddled beneath the eaves, smoking.

Madara did not sneak in. He walked straight up to them.

"Get lost, brat!" One wizard raised his head, caught sight of the boy whose form was blurred by the rain, and waved him away impatiently.

Madara raised his leg and delivered a side kick.

Boom—!!!

The wooden door and both wizards were sent flying inside by the tremendous force, crashing through the room and knocking people over!

"Enemy attack!"

"Get him!"

The flashes of spells flew wildly through the room. Madara moved swiftly through the cramped space, evading Stunning Charms and Severing Charms one after another. He did not need a wand. With a flick of his fingers, puddles seeping across the floor turned into sharp water needles that shot at his enemies, or instantly condensed into small earthen shields to block incoming attacks.

One Dark wizard tried to ambush him from behind. Madara did not even turn his head. His elbow lashed backward with a rush of wind, striking the man squarely in the chest. The sound of shattering bones was swallowed by the rain and the curses.

The battle ended quickly. Madara walked over to the hunters' only surviving leader. His leg was broken, and he was dragging himself backward.

"Don't... please..."

Madara crouched and placed a hand on his head, using the same method again.

"Ah—!!!" The shrill scream rang out briefly before cutting off abruptly.

Madara stood and wiped the flecks of blood from his face.

"Next."

The names on the list dwindled one by one. Once the weaker forces had been cleared out, more troublesome names began to appear, such as branches of the Carrow family and the Travers family.

Madara changed his methods.

In Diagon Alley, a young man from the Carrow family strode arrogantly out of Flourish and Blotts. Madara passed him like an ordinary pedestrian and gave an almost imperceptible flick of his finger.

A thread of cold magic silently slipped into the man's body.

Two days later, news arrived: the Carrow family's "genius" had suffered a fatal collapse of his internal organs after an unfortunate loss of control while "practicing spells" at home.

Another steward of the Travers family left the Hog's Head Inn late at night. As he passed through Knockturn Alley, he was knocked unconscious and dragged into the shadows. When he was discovered the next day, there was not a single wound on his body. His eyes were wide open, his expression twisted, and he had been frightened to death.

The only clue came from a trembling drunken vagrant. "I... I think I saw a pair of eyes... red... like they were dripping blood..."

Fear began to spread.

The families that had once been involved with the Flamel Bloodline all tightened their defenses, but it was useless. Like a ghost, Madara always found an opening. He cleared out their outer members, weakening their strength while digging deeper information from every victim's memories.

A month later, London Chinatown. A rainy night.

Neon signs bled hazy colors into the damp air. Madara rested inside an all-night café, dressed in an unremarkable black cloak, its hood concealing most of his face.

He flexed his wrist. After a month of hunting, this body had already been completely transformed. His muscles were balanced and powerful, magic surged through him like a river, and controlling it felt as natural as breathing. He could even use magic to perfectly replicate most basic ninjutsu, with greater power than before.

The targets within the United Kingdom had mostly been eliminated.

Through countless mind searches, he had finally identified the most crucial "viper"—

Tsuchimikado Kenji.

Known as "Viper," he was a graduate of the Japanese wizarding school. On the surface, he was a Far Eastern merchant dealing in magical materials. In secret, he was a high-level broker who turned the Flamel Bloodline into "commodities" and sold it to dignitaries and Dark wizards around the world.

He had been the first to discover and "appraise" the value of the Flamel Bloodline, establishing this filthy supply chain. He colluded with certain Goblins at Gringotts, using the Goblin financial network to launder money and transport "goods."

And Tsuchimikado Kenji's base in the United Kingdom was right across the street—

"Eastern Pavilion."

A shop selling magical antiques.

Madara looked up. The shop appeared ordinary, but he could clearly sense the intricate, hidden Japanese barriers and warning magic within. Their standard far surpassed most of what he had seen in the United Kingdom.

Madara stood, placed money on the table, then pulled up his hood, leaving only his chin and tightly pressed lips exposed. His gaze was cold and focused.

It was time to send the Flamel Family's cordial "greetings." He had no intention of making his host wait too long.

Madara stepped out and crossed the rain-soaked street.

Raindrops landed on his shoulders and evaporated soundlessly.

Across the street, the lights in Eastern Pavilion's display window suddenly flickered in a strange manner.