The Bloodline Was Nearly Beaten Out of Him

As the snake's head drew closer and closer to the barrier, and escape seemed imminent, Voldemort couldn't help but smirk slightly.

He decided that after he got away, he would find a secluded place to rest and recuperate, and also think about how to destroy the Menethil Family.

In all his years of Voldemort the world, Voldemort has never been so humiliated!

Even back when he suddenly died, he was never this pathetic!

Sizzle!

The familiar sound effect rang out, causing Voldemort to glance at Bell in the air with a puzzled look.

At this moment, Bell was staring at him with a face full of shock and anger, completely unable to react to his unexpected move.

So where did the sound come from?

Before the thought had even settled in his mind, Voldemort turned around in horror and looked behind him.

It's Illusion Spell!

Bell used illusion magic to interfere with Voldemort's perception, making him mistakenly believe that the sound was coming from the air.

Piercing through the Black Mist, his body covered in dazzling Lightning, as if he were made entirely of Lightning, Bell delivered a powerful uppercut to Voldemort's chin before Voldemort could raise his Wand.

"I knew you were trying to run away, you little punk!"

Just kidding, if Voldemort had the courage to fight to the death, he would have dragged him down with him and blown himself up long ago.

Since we can revive anyway, it's a one-for-one trade, so it's a win-win situation no matter how you look at it!

"Pfft~!"

A mouthful of blood, mixed with a few pearly white teeth, was spat out by Voldemort. He flew towards the motionless "Bell" in the air like a rocket ascending into the sky.

To deceive Voldemort's senses, Bell had reserved 60% of his magical power within his aerial clone. Only then did he erase his own presence and stealthily infiltrate behind Voldemort.

Unaware of this, Voldemort, after being sent flying by Bell's "Rising Dragon Fist," was unable to control his body and struggled to reach out and forcefully grasp Bell's hand on the ground.

Before it could even collide with the barrier, the Black Snake suddenly disintegrated and then Transfiguration into a rapidly spinning black sphere centered on Bell.

"Finally caught that brat!"

Voldemort finally got his revenge.

This was the first time tonight that he had truly attacked his opponent.

That brat is flying way too fast! With limited magic power, he can't just launch indiscriminate attacks...

"Varied..."

A chilling sense of crisis suddenly came from behind Voldemort. He strained to turn his head and caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of the fake "Bell" body in the air suddenly emitting a dazzling white light.

Then, the fake "Bell" began to expand, eventually becoming a huge ball of lightning several meters in diameter.

"No--!"

Voldemort tried desperately to stop himself. But Bell's previous "Rising Dragon Fist" was too powerful. No matter how much Voldemort struggled, he continued to rapidly approach the ball of lightning and eventually disappeared into it.

With a full 60% of his magic power, Bell certainly couldn't just let it dissipate like that.

He converted all the magic power within his clone into Lightning and set the timer for the explosion, just waiting for Voldemort to "deliver the goods" to his door.

"Dry!"

As Voldemort disappeared into the lightning ball, Bell rolled out of the black sphere formed by Black Mist from the ground in a disheveled state.

At this moment, Bell's skin looked as if it had been burned, and even his favorite short black hair was completely gone.

After lying on the ground for a while, Bell finally managed to get up, grimacing.

"Damn it! You really went all out!"

Seeing the black figure appearing and disappearing within the lightning ball, Bell cursed angrily as he intensified his attack.

He truly hadn't expected that, under those circumstances, Voldemort could still control the Black Mist on the ground and deliver a devastating blow to him.

Fortunately, he had enough Defensive Trinket on him; otherwise, even if he wasn't corroded into a puddle of thick liquid by the Black Mist, he would have been electrocuted into a pile of charred remains by his own Lightning.

Inhale~ Exhale~!

With his eyes slightly closed, Bell took a deep breath and adjusted his state.

Then, he slowly raised his Wand.

The Wand, which was originally as light as a feather, now seemed to weigh a ton.

"The Undying Flame!"

A faint crimson flame, tinged with darkness, shot from the tip of Bell's Wand and Transfiguration the form of a divine dragon, hurtling rapidly toward the lightning orb in the sky.

This was the first time Bell had used the Undying Flame in actual combat, and he never expected that the first target to be burned would be someone of Voldemort's caliber. How could he possibly use this Curses against weaklings in the future?

Although, you don't really need the Undying Flame to deal with small fry anyway...

Under Bell's control, the magic that made up the lightning sphere surrendered without resistance to being devoured by the Undying Flame. Soon, the blue-white lightning sphere transformed into a black-red fireball.

The fireball burned quietly, as if it were trying to incinerate all light and sound.

One minute passed, Bell grinned.

This Voldemort is incredibly resilient! He's been pushed to this point, and he's still managed to hold out for so long!

If Voldemort keeps pushing himself like this, he's about to collapse!

Bell raised his left hand and gripped it on his right wrist, trying to suppress the trembling of the Wand in his hand.

At this moment, he was pointing his Wand at the fireball in the air, controlling it to stay suspended in mid-air.

If, at the very last moment when everything was settled, Voldemort suddenly pounced on him, covered in flames, saying he couldn't bear to part with him and wanted to take him to the Yomi with him, then he would truly cry himself to death at the very bottom of the eighteenth level of hell.

He doesn't want to go to the Yomi with a greasy middle-aged man!

Not to mention, this middle-aged man was also an incredibly ugly, noseless monster!

Just as Bell was pondering whether he should throw over some magical items as firewood, finally, his efforts paid off, and the fireball began to slowly shrink.

After the last flame disappeared into the night, Bell plopped down on the ground, panting heavily.

"Young Master! Are you alright!?"

Seeing that the battle was over, Sebas immediately rushed over.

"Don't worry, you won't die."

Bell grinned, revealing an ugly smile.

"Young Master, that mysterious... that Voldemort, is he dead?"

Sebas stared in astonishment at his Young Master, who was now lying on the ground, too weak to even sit up.

Although their Young Master was in a terrible state, his skin was charred black, and even his teeth were covered with a layer of black ash. Only by using the light of the Lumos could one barely make out his bright eyes, which seemed to be floating in the air.

But this did not diminish Sebas's admiration at all.

You know, that's Voldemort!

Even if Voldemort is still in a weakened state after being resurrected, he is still Voldemort!

Let alone fighting them, how many wizards in all of Britain would dare to stand in their presence?