It was fair to say that Voldemort's knowledge and ability in the field of Dark Magic had earned Manus's recognition.
Even throughout history, there probably weren't many wizards who could rival Voldemort in that regard. At the very least, the four Founders likely couldn't.
Neither Ravenclaw's memories nor the memories she shared with the other three Founders had shown them possessing such mastery of Dark Magic—not even Slytherin himself.
This wasn't simply a matter of different eras having different amounts of Dark Magic available. Manus had another, deeper criterion: in this world, advanced Dark Magic placed a burden on the mind.
Not everyone could conjure so many intense, cruel, sinister thoughts without batting an eye, then move straight on to casting another powerful, advanced piece of Dark Magic.
"He really is talented. What a shame..."
A shame he couldn't see the true nature of this world.
A shame he had been foolish enough to start a war.
Muninn watched as the battle grew increasingly fierce. Dumbledore could no longer maintain his casual demeanor and remained constantly on guard against Voldemort's magic. At the same time, his own spells became... less dependent on intricate, precise manipulation to inflict damage.
After a Diffindo struck Voldemort squarely, only for him to take it head-on with his arm and turn it into an opportunity to counterattack...
Dumbledore flicked his wand, blocking Voldemort's Killing Curse with a section of ruined wall, then drew a deep breath amid the flying rubble.
"Avada Kedavra—"
The modifications for which Voldemort had sacrificed his handsome appearance were certainly extraordinary. They had helped him wield all manner of Dark Magic with such ease earlier, and now they were revealing an inhuman resistance to magic.
That left only more extreme, unconventional spells.
And so, this time, it was Dumbledore who cast