No one knew how long remained until dawn, but the dense rain nearly filled every inch of the sky. Silver streaks stitched heaven and earth together, and the distant horizon was almost completely invisible.
Voldemort gripped his wand tightly. Aside from Wormtail, who had turned into a Mouse and slipped away, all of his followers were gone.
Some had been killed in the Dark Lord's fury as he endlessly leaked gas, while others had been dragged into the darkness by the undead, their fates unknown. In any case, Voldemort was now utterly alone.
The rain washed away the bloodstains on the ground. Trickle after trickle ran down the stone steps of the luxurious mausoleum and through the cracks into the grass, making the soil beneath it seem even darker.
Exhausted, Voldemort leaned against a pillar by the tomb entrance, panting without pause. Yet as he inhaled from above and expelled from below, his face became even paler than before.
Cramping pain surged through his abdomen like a tide, intensified by the cold, gloomy surroundings. The chill seemed to bore into his new body through every pore, winding through him before finally drilling into his stomach and intestines.
"Pfft!"
"Pffft!"
"Psssh~~pop!"
Similar sounds rang out one after another. The commotion behind him was like firecrackers going off, while his black robes billowed on their own as though the tide were rising and falling.
But losing all his subordinates came with one benefit: Voldemort could finally let himself go without restraint. His face was currently filled with blissful intoxication as he relaxed completely, forgetting himself.
Actually, that was not it. His stomach hurt so badly that he was delirious, and just now, liquid had genuinely burst out along with the gas.
He did not dare speak loudly or move, otherwise he suspected