Two days later.

  The sun sank low, casting a golden light over the desert. In the Tawam region, near the border between the United Arab Emirates and Oman, Jebel Hafeet stood tall and alone, like a silent giant watching over the endless sand and wide open sky.

  A restless wind moved through the quiet, carrying the dry smell of baked earth and a faint chill that hinted at the coming night. The air was thick with dust, making every breath heavy. All around, the desert stretched on, its silence as strong and unrelenting as the heat.

  Inside a cave in the mountain, beside a small fire, sat three figures cloaked in dark fabric. Each of them held a container, likely filled with some kind of liquid to drink.

  The flickering firelight illuminated their faces. Two of the men were middle-aged, their faces hidden beneath thick black beards. The third, seated between them, was much older—his white beard framed wrinkled skin, though his eyes burned with a sharpness that betrayed his age.

  He exuded an undeniable authority, clearly the leader of the group.

  "Lord Morvain... are we really going to hide?" one of the middle-aged men asked, then paused, gesturing toward the empty cave, its walls nothing but cold, barren rock. "Here?"

  Morvain gave him only a brief, cold glance. It was clear he didn't take kindly to being confronted.

  "It is not your place to question me, boy!" he said slowly, his voice low and dangerous.

  The man flinched, quickly lowering his gaze in a clear sign of submission.

  The second middle-aged man remained silent, fear unmistakable on his face as his eyes darted nervously between the two.

  The weight of the older man's presence seemed to press down on them both equally.

  The silence stretched on, broken only by the crackling of the fire, before Morvain spoke to the air, his eyes narrowing as he watched the flames dance in the dim light. "Damn you, Garling," he muttered, his voice low and thick with barely restrained fury. "I know it's you behind this... you've always been a nasty thorn in my side..."

  The two middle-aged men wisely remained silent, not daring to interrupt Morvain's angry rant.

  "You think you can be the hero?" His voice dropped deeper, thick with growing darkness. "You're nothing more than a dog, even with all that power... following your precious laws and hollow ideals like a fool."

  The older man's gaze never left the fire, his jaw tightening as he fought to maintain his composure.

  After a moment, he glanced at the other two, then returned his gaze to the fire, his eyes now blazing with cold fury. "But no matter," he continued, his voice steady yet laced with venom.

  "Once the masses grow quiet, once the fools are distracted, I'll slip free of this mess... Foolish laws can never cage me... they always fail." His words carried a quiet, unshakable confidence, as though he believed nothing—nothing at all—could ever stand in his way.

  ...

  Far, a thousand meters above the peak of Jebel Hafeet, four figures hovered, cloaked by powerful Disillusionment spells that would have made them invisible to any ordinary observer.

  Ali and Aisha both floated on broomsticks, their eyes fixed below, while Maverick and Edward stood atop invisible magical constructs, as though they were standing on solid ground.

  They all looked down at the mountain below, but only Maverick held a parchment in his hand. His eyes scanned it intently, narrowing as he shifted his gaze from the parchment to the landscape below every few seconds.

  "Well, let's get this over with..." Edward muttered, casting a sideways glance at his student. "The space, a thousand meters from Morvain's position, is now blocked by a barrier created using alchemical items."

  The two on the broomsticks exchanged a quick look. Aisha spoke up hesitantly, "Wouldn't that make it impossible for the boss to Apparate as well?"

  Maverick turned to her briefly at the question, then returned his gaze to the mountain below. "It doesn't matter..." he said flatly, rolling up the parchment. He handed it to his teacher, then added, "I'm starting now."

  He raised his hand and glanced at his wrist, focusing on the black bracelet there. In an instant, his attire began to shift. Tiny black particles, almost microscopic, enveloped him, and within seconds, he was cloaked entirely in black. Crimson light flickered from his eye sockets, and a black cape billowed behind him, reaching just past his knees.

  Without saying a word, he took a step forward and, in a flash, fell headfirst, allowing gravity to take hold.

  ...

  Inside the cave, Morvain and his two subordinates sat in tense silence, the crackling flames the only sound filling the air. The trio stared at the fire, lost in thought, when Morvain suddenly lifted his head, his eyes narrowing sharply.

  For a moment, he stayed still, his gaze fixed on the rocky ceiling as though seeing beyond it. Then, his eyes widened, and he abruptly stood.

  The sudden movement startled the other two, and they scrambled to their feet, exchanging nervous glances.

  "Something's coming..." Morvain muttered, his voice low. His eyes closed as he tapped into his Magical Sense, probing the area for threats. His subordinates dared not interrupt, though anxiety was etched on their faces. They stood frozen, waiting for their leader's command.

  After what felt like an eternity, Morvain opened his eyes. "Apparate out," he barked.

  But no one moved. Seconds later, their eyes collectively widened as they tried—and failed—to vanish.

  "Ambush!" Morvain hissed, his tone carrying a rare edge of panic. His expression tightened as he added grimly, "We're trapped inside an anti-Apparition barrier." The weight of his words pressed heavily on his followers. Barriers like these weren't something just anyone could set up, especially without alerting someone as adept in Magical Sense as Morvain.

  Before he could issue further commands, a sharp warning flared through his senses. His head whipped around wildly, panic flickering in his eyes, the composure he'd displayed moments earlier now shattered.

  "It's coming from outside," he growled, rushing toward the cave's entrance. As he reached the opening, he froze, his heart sinking as his eyes caught sight of a massive crimson glow above.

  A searing wave of heat followed, and Morvain subconsciously tilted his head upward. His stomach dropped as he saw it—a colossal fireball, nearly a hundred meters wide, descending directly toward them.

  "What in the..." Morvain muttered, the words barely audible as he stared at the massive fireball descending upon them, its crimson light casting a hellish glow over the landscape.

  His two subordinates stumbled out of the cave behind him, their faces drained of color. One managed to stammer, "Lo-Lord Morvain..." his voice trembling with fear.

  Morvain's eyes darted upward, calculating. There was no time. Apparating was impossible, and the fireball was too close and massive to outrun. They had only one option.

  "Shields!" he roared, his voice cutting through the panic.

  Without hesitation, the three wizards sprang into action. Morvain shouted, "Protego Maxima!", his voice booming with authority as he poured his immense power into the spell.

  The two middle-aged men followed suit, yelling, "Protego!" Their voices wavered with desperation, their magic fueled by raw fear and the singular thought of survival.

  A dome of shimmering magical barriers materialized around them, overlapping and crackling with energy as the fireball drew closer, its heat now unbearable.

  ---

  A while earlier...

  Woosh!

  A dark figure streaked through the air like a shadow of death, descending rapidly toward the rocky mountain below.

  Maverick focused intently, weighing his first move, before making the decision.

  His plan was simple: start big. As the jagged terrain rushed toward him, he extended a hand, gripping his wand tightly, and prepared to unleash the most devastating spell in his arsenal.

  Fiendfyre.

  The forbidden spell, an EX-rank incantation banned by nearly every magical authority, was one of the most direct ways to cause destruction. Maverick had learned Fiendfyre months ago during a visit to Russia, exploring the darker parts of their magical community—a place similar to Knockturn Alley in London.

  Fiendfyre wasn't the only forbidden spell he had picked up over the past year. Maverick had sought out banned magic from all over the world. He might not need to use them often, but it was better to have the knowledge and not need it than to need it and not have it. In his mind, knowing forbidden spells was an advantage worth the risk.

  What made him even more dangerous was his ability to cast spells without a wand. This skill left no trace behind for anyone to detect, making it almost impossible to link him to any magic he used.

  Right now, the wand in his hand was just for show. The magic wasn't coming from it but directly through him. It was a secret he kept from everyone—even his friends and his teacher. To Maverick, letting people think he needed a wand was a useful deception, one he intended to maintain for as long as possible.

  With advanced proficiency in Fiendfyre, Maverick had gained enough control over the deadly, cursed flames to direct their destructive force with precision. However, he hadn't yet reached the legendary mastery of Grindelwald, who could manipulate the inferno as though it were a loyal pet. Maverick was close—so close that one more upgrade in the spell could grant him that same control. But the price of a thousand points was too great, so for now, he chose patience.

  Gripping his wand tightly, he pointed it toward the mountain. The words of the forbidden incantation slipped from his lips like a whisper, soft but charged with deadly intent.

  A roar of crimson flames erupted from its tip, rushing forward like a living entity hungry for destruction. Maverick poured his raw emotions and power into the spell, feeding the fire with all the magic he could muster.

  The inferno grew, expanding rapidly until it was nearly a hundred meters wide. With precise control, he locked onto Morvain's location using his Magical-Sense and unleashed the monstrous blaze.

  As he neared the ground, he slowed his descent and stopped, hovering about three hundred meters above the mountainside. He watched as his creation continued to fall, beginning its destructive work below.

  The Fiendfyre roared as it engulfed the mountainside, devouring everything in its path.

  For a brief moment, he caught sight of them—three figures scrambling in panic, conjuring shields to defend themselves. Maverick's expression twisted into one of disdain, the flicker of their resistance meaningless in the face of such raw devastation.

  And then—

  BOOOOM!

  The flames surged like a living beast, spreading with terrifying speed and precision. Rocks melted into molten rivers, the mountain itself screaming under the relentless assault. Maverick floated above, his cold gaze fixed on the chaos, the Fiendfyre turning destruction into art.

  ...

  "Son of a..." Edward muttered under his breath, his eyes wide as he watched from far above. He knew Maverick must have gained a wealth of new magical knowledge during his travels over the past year, but seeing Fiendfyre unleashed—especially with such raw power—nearly made him curse out loud.

  The two people beside him, flying on broomsticks, stared in shock, their mouths hanging open at the sight below.

  The time was just after sunset, and the sky had already begun to darken. But the blazing inferno that Maverick unleashed below lit up the surroundings so brightly that it was possible to see for miles.

  Edward glanced briefly at the two beside him. In his eyes, they were amateurs—just Magus rank, their power insignificant. But they were his pupil's first subordinates, so he didn't ignore them.

  "Fly up another half kilometer," he instructed calmly. "The shockwaves will reach this distance."

  Ali and Aisha snapped out of their shock at Edward's words and exchanged a look, momentarily silent.

  "But we're already a kilometer up..." Aisha spoke hesitantly, but before she could finish, a powerful gust of wind slammed into them. The force was so strong that Ali and Aisha lost control of their broomsticks and were blown away.

  "Aaaa!" Aisha screamed as she lost her grip on the broom and was sent tumbling through the air.

  Ali, though silent, suffered the same fate.

  Fortunately, Edward remained unaffected. The gust of wind had no impact on him. Even his clothes remained perfectly still, as though an invisible barrier had shielded him from the force.

  With a flick of his hand, he drew on his magical energy and effortlessly caught the two Magus and their broomsticks, preventing them from being blown too far away.

  With a simple gesture, Edward brought them back to his side, conjuring a magical platform for them to stand on.

  The two of them looked at him gratefully, though a nervous gulp escaped as they took in the man's power. "Th-thank you, Mr. Speaker..." Ali stammered.

  Edward gave a small hum, nodding slightly, and willed them to ascend further. Together, they hovered in the air, watching the battle unfold below them.

  —————————

  Rumble.

  Rumble, rumble.

  A hand suddenly burst through the rocks, followed by a powerful gust of air. A figure, cloaked in the torn remnants of burned robes, shot upward and crashed onto the heated, rocky ground below.

  Maverick watched in silence, his body alert, as the figure slammed heavily onto the ground just a few meters away, directly across from him.

  It was no surprise to see the old wizard emerge unscathed from the fiery devastation. Though his robes were scorched, the flames had caused no real harm, proving that the man was no ordinary grunt Maverick could easily defeat.

  Speaking of which, the other two had posed no challenge. They disintegrated instantly, their defensive spells powerless against the overwhelming force of the fiery inferno.

  Morvain's gaze sharpened as he studied the figure before him. After a moment, he narrowed his eyes and, with a voice laced in both anger and suspicion, asked, "Who, or what, are you to dare challenge me?"

  Maverick remained silent, his grip tightening around his wand. Now that he was closer, he could truly feel the power emanating from the man before him. It was unlike any enemy he had ever faced.

  Though not an Arch-Magus, the older wizard had spent centuries at the Great-Magus rank. At the peak of that level, it was safe to say he could rival anyone, except the seven Speakers.

  Morvain watched as the figure's crimson eyes narrowed, and then a distorted voice emerged. "I am... Bloodraven."

  A tense stillness filled the air before the old man erupted into dark, mocking laughter. "Blood what?" he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "Is that supposed to be intimidating?"

  His tone shifted, darkening as he eyed the figure opposite him with suspicion. "Tell me," he demanded, "are you some lost dog sent by Garling?"

  Maverick didn't react to the mockery or the question, though he was mildly surprised at how close the man had come to the guess.

  Instead, his voice cold and distorted, he stated, "You end here, Victor Morvain."

  The older man squinted. While he had a good idea of how he ended up in this situation, there was still much he didn't understand. And this clown before him wasn't offering any answers.

  "Why hide your face?" he asked, changing his approach. "Surely you're not one of those seven monsters. I'd be ash if that were the case..." As he spoke, he tore away the remnants of his burned robes in a swiftmotion, revealing a body of lean, hardened muscle that defied his age. Only his weathered face betrayed the years he had lived.

  "So, you're at most a Marquis... new, perhaps," he taunted, his words laced with an attempt to provoke.

  The shadowy figure did not react as expected. Instead, its crimson eyes gleamed coldly, returning the disdain in kind. "Why bother asking," it said, its voice heavy and distorted, "when you're about to die?"

  The mockery only fueled the old wizard's rage. His grip tightened on his wand, and his narrowed eyes burned with fury. "You've only just achieved, dog!" he roared, his voice rising with every word. "What I have mastered and lived for centuries!"

  Maverick sensed the shift in the old man—his presence sharpening, like a predator honing onto its prey.

  "I will relish breaking you—"

  "Avada Kedavra!"

  No warning, just a sharp, decisive thrust. The old man unleashed the green bolt of death with deadly precision.

  Maverick was alert, reacting instantly. With a twist of his body, he dodged to the side, then shot upward, soaring ten meters in the span of a heartbeat. His movements didn't stop there—he lunged his wand forward and fired a silent, powerful exploding hex in return.

  The older man was a skilled master of Magical-Sense and Magical-Energy Manipulation. His reaction was just as quick, sidestepping with swift ease.

  Boom!

  The explosion sent rocky debris flying in all directions, covering a twenty-meter radius.

  The shockwave caught the old man off guard briefly, throwing off his balance—just enough.

  Without hesitation, Maverick lunged forward, unleashing a powerful disarming charm. But halfway to its target, Maverick saw the man twist his body in an almost unnatural way, steadying himself. In a single, fluid motion, the old wizard countered, sending a disarming charm of his own back at Maverick.

  Boom!

  The two spells collided like bolts of red lightning, exploding with a thunderous boom.

  Crackle! Crackle!

  One hovered in the air, while the other remained firmly grounded. Both wizards kept their wands extended, pouring all their power into their magic.

  Wild and electric bolts leaked into the air as the spells battled for dominance. The collision of their magic not only held them in a deadlock but also unleashed a destructive aftermath that spread to the surroundings.

  Neither wizard could overpower the other. Thinking quickly, Maverick flicked his free hand, making the ground beneath Morvain shift suddenly.

  The unexpected shift in the ground disrupted the old man's focus, weakening his spell. Maverick's disarming charm overpowered it, breaking through with force as it surged forward.

  But just as the spell was about to hit, Morvain once again demonstrated his experience, swiftly sidestepping with unnatural speed.

  Booom!

  The curse smashed into the rocky terrain, carving through it like a hot knife through butter. Shards of stone exploded outward, scattering debris in every direction and leaving a jagged scar on the landscape.

  "Avada Kedavra!"

  The call for death rang out again. Through the swirling dust and debris, the green ray shot forward.

  But it wasn't fast enough to escape Maverick's magical senses. He twisted in mid-air, dodging to the side, and with a swift motion, fired a bludgeoning curse at the same point.

  Boom!

  The explosion rocked the ground, sending another shockwave through the air as debris scattered in all directions.

  The older wizard darted in and out of sight with erratic movements, using the chaos of the rubble to his advantage.

  Maverick remained focused, his eyes constantly shifting, tracking Morvain's every motion through the swirling dust.

  Whoosh!

  Spells shot out in all colors—stunning hexes, binding hexes, blasting hexes—beams targeting Maverick as he hovered above. But they were easy to avoid. He moved side to side, tilting his head slightly, letting the spells miss—some crashing into the mountainside, others shooting into the sky.

  Thanks to the Extraordinary-Characteristic granted by his overpowered broomstick, maneuvering through the air felt as natural as moving on solid ground.

  Boom!

  Boom!

  Whoosh!

  Maverick didn't just dodge and played the target. He countered every attack with his own relentless barrage of spells. Some were cast individually, while others chained together in rapid succession

  But the older man was more than just a skilled wizard—his movements were quick and unpredictable, like a rat darting through shadows, always staying one step ahead.

  Each of his attacks narrowly missed, and the only thing that suffered was the ground beneath them. The earth shook with every near miss, cracking and breaking as the impacts left deep scars.

  After a few more exchanges, Morvain paused, and Maverick did the same. Morvain lifted his head, his gaze locking onto the figure clad in black, its crimson eyes.

  "Is that some kind of charm?" he asked, suspicion in his voice as he watched how effortlessly Maverick maneuvered through the air. "Or perhaps a prop?"

  Maverick remained silent, eyes fixed on Morvain, and letting silence stretch. His refusal to answer only deepened Morvain's frustration, the older wizard's hands trembling with barely contained rage.

  "Fine," he spat, voice low and dripping with fury. "I'll break you first, and then make you tell me everything."

  With a scowl, Morvain fired a blasting curse, but Maverick was too fast. The fiery bolt missed him by inches and struck a nearby boulder, exploding with a loud crash. Fragments of rock flew in all directions, scattering across the area.

  The ground beneath them trembled with the force of their magic.

  They continued their assault, moving constantly, dodging, and firing all manner of destructive spells. Some missed, while others collided mid-air. At times, they reached a stalemate, their spells canceling each other out in an instant. The surroundings crumbled with every attack as their movements became faster, like two streaks of light darting through the chaos.

  The destruction grew as they began using Transfiguration to shape the ground and rocks into weapons, and it didn't take long before a kilometer-wide radius was left unrecognizable, the landscape transformed into a battleground.

  ...

  High above the mountain range, three figures hovered in silence, their expressions unreadable as they watched the chaos unfold below.

  Over an hour had passed since the duel began, yet the intensity showed no sign of diminishing.

  The destruction had only grown, and even from their vantage point high above, they could still feel the vibrations of the battle's aftermath.

  Smoke and dust now blanketed the rocky, barren terrain, while streaks of red, blue, and green light flashed through in different directions.

  Loud booms echoed often as two shield-like spheres would slammed into each other with incredible speeds, each collision sending shockwaves rippling through the area, shaking the mountains and scattering debris.

  Edward watched solemnly, his eyes fixed on the battle below. His grip on his wand was firm, ready to intervene at a moment's notice.

  Ali and Aisha, however, were filled with a mix of awe, worry, and fear, their first time witnessing magic capable of such devastation.

  Boom!

  Boom!

  The aftermath of each collision felt like the calm before the next storm.

  "How long can they keep this up..." Aisha's quiet voice cut through the tension, her question obviously directed at the senior man beside her.

  There was no immediate response from Edward. Instead, he pulled out a few devices—small, gadget-like items that looked like cameras but a little different from any they had seen before.

  "They work like magical cameras," he explained, "but a bit more advanced than the usual ones." He addressed the man and woman standing beside him, within the magical construct. "I'll be moving, you two take the shots."

  The two magus exchanged confused glances, unsure of exactly what was going on. They could guess, vaguely, that this was something their boss had arranged with his teacher. But they dared not ask, and instead, silently accepted their tasks.

  Edward noticed their obedience and smirked inwardly, giving a silent thumbs up to his student. Subordinates should act this way—knowing when to stay quiet and follow orders.

  "It won't be long, probably another hour," he added casually, answering Aisha's earlier question. "The kid's gonna win."

  Meanwhile, he couldn't help but think to himself, Why isn't this idiot using my spell...

  —————————

  Three hours had passed, and though the action continued, its intensity had lessened. The movements were no longer as fast or flashy as they had been at the beginning.

  The massive mountain, once towering over a kilometer high, was now almost unrecognizable. It wasn't just the mountain—the surrounding rocky desert, especially on the side where the battle had raged, was now scarred beyond recognition. Deep craters and long gashes carved into the earth marked the sheer intensity of the fight.

  It wouldn't be hard for Maverick to end the duel. The illusion charm was his most useful spell now. It might not fool the old man as easily as an average wizard, but it didn't have to.

  All he needed was to catch the old man off guard—a single moment to land a fatal blow before the old wizard noticed anything.

  But Maverick wasn't in a hurry. The duel would end when he decided it was time.

  Morvain's every move was deliberate, his actions sharp and precise, every spell executed with perfection—a result of years of practical experience.

  Maverick, on the other hand, was simply observing, learning, and studying every trick as the fight progressed, using it to refine his own way of dueling.

  Although it wasn't easy—far from it—he found the battle extremely difficult. There were even a few close calls with those green death beams, but he pressed on, countering the old man's every spell and movement.

  If anyone asked what he needed most right now, the answer was simple: experience. And Morvain had plenty of it.

  ...

  Boom!

  Two curses collided in midair, locking in a fierce struggle of power as searing energy lit up the battlefield.

  Crackle!

  Crackle!

  They surged back and forth, each trying to overpower the other, but neither managed to break through.

  "Why are you doing this?" the old man suddenly shouted, his wand outstretched, magic surging from it like water bursting from a broken hose. "What's in this for you? Money? Fame?" His voice screamed with frustration, each question sharper than the last.

  The dark figure across from him stayed silent, fully committed to the battle, matching his power without a sound.

  "Speak, you insufferable clown..." He exclaimed, anger evident in every word. "I'll give you all the money you need. Centuries of amassed wealth..." He pressed on despite the rising fury in his voice. It was clear the old wizard was feeling desperate, as the figure he had once dismissed as a mere pawn was proving to be anything but.

  He kept shouting, the frantic words of a desperate man on the brink of losing everything. "Fame? You've kept me here for hours! That alone should be enough..." His hand pressed forward, straining as if to pour every last drop of his magic.

  Woosh!

  Unfortunately, that small burst of power did almost nothing, pushing forward for only a brief moment before being forced back.

  Crackle!

  Crackle!

  "Damn you!" he cursed under his breath, then yelled again, "Enough! None of us will walk away from this unscarred..."

  Maverick once again tuned out the old man's ranting, though he couldn't deny there was some truth to his words.. As long as the duel continued like this, with neither side revealing their trump cards, there would be no end in sight.

  Crackle! Crackle!

  Rumble!

  The stalemate persisted, destructive bolts of lightning flashing and arcing through the surrounding landscape.

  Suddenly, with a decisive twist, the old man leaped to the side, canceling his magic.

  Woosh!

  Maverick's curse shot forward and blasted into the mountainside.

  Boom!

  Contrary to Maverick's expectation, the old man chose not to counterattack this time.

  He stood panting, his furious gaze locked on the crimson eyes of the mask. The shockwave and swirling dust from the aftermath struck him from behind, but the old man stood firm despite his battered, half-dead appearance—only his tattered pants fluttered in response.

  His body was riddled with wounds and gashes, yet there was no sign of surrender.

  Maverick too was exhausted, badly injured in several places, though the alchemical suit hid the full extent of his injuries.

  The staredown lasted a moment, then the old man spoke, his tone surprisingly steady. "Bloodraven... right?"

  Maverick raised a brow under his mask. This was the first time Morvain had used his alias.

  "You're strong. In fact, apart from those seven, I doubt any wizard or witch could kill you..." he panted, his anger still simmering but his voice calmer than before.

  "Why do this?" he paused, his tone sharp. "I meant what I said. Money—galleons, gold, Muggle currency, whatever you want..." He narrowed his eyes. "Just let me apparate out of here." His voice was steady, as if he expected his words to be obeyed.

  "You die, and everything you possess will be mine," the figure opposite him finally responded. The distorted words only served to fuel the old wizard's rage further.

  Rumble!

  Magic flared from the old man. The build-up of rage was becoming palpable.

  "CURSE YOU, CLOWN!" he yelled, his voice full of anger, almost on the brink of madness.

  Maverick remained alert, his Magical-Sense never faltering.

  He watched as the old man raised his hand, focusing on the ring on his finger. A piece of parchment—or perhaps the skin of some animal—appeared in his grasp. With a swift motion, the old man used his wand to slice a gash into his arm, letting blood drip onto the parchment.

  The old man's narrowed eyes met Maverick's.

  "You've forced my hand... I will skin you first, and then only kill you."

  Maverick had no idea what was happening, but one thing was certain. The parchment the old man held radiated death. It was dark magic, the most vile kind he had ever felt.

  ---

  Above the mountain.

  "Not good..." Edward muttered, his eyes fixed on the scene below.

  "That looks like a contract... Demonology!" He added, narrowing his eyes then turned his head, as if seeing something the others couldn't.

  Unfortunately, the two magus next to him couldn't use Magical-Sense and could only perceive what they saw and heard. They gave the Arch-Magus a confused glance, but the man paid no mind to their gesture. They watched him raise his hand and begin chanting in a mysterious language.

  ...

  About a kilometer away from their position, hidden under a Disillusionment Charm, another group of figures observed the devastation below.

  At the forefront stood a tall, striking woman with thick dark brown hair styled in an updo. She wore elegant formal clothing beneath a luxurious fur-trimmed cloak, radiating the presence of someone of high status. Her sophisticated, commanding demeanor mirrored that of Edward.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  To her right stood a little girl, barely reaching the woman's waist. She had blonde hair and wore a uniform.

  To her left stood two middle-aged men. One was dressed in traditional Middle Eastern royal attire, while the other wore a blend of wizarding robes and the same aristocratic style.

  A little further behind were four more men—two in suits with firearms strapped to their waists, and the other two in combat-ready wizarding robes. Their postures exuded professionalism and alertness.

  Even the tallest among them barely reached the height of the tall woman's chest. It wasn't that the others were short; it was simply that the woman was abnormally tall, towering over them as if she were a half-giant.

  Booom!

  They all flinched, except for the tall woman, when another explosion echoed from below.

  "This has to stop," the man in royal Middle Eastern attire said, glancing to his right and raising his head. His tone carried an accent that matched his appearance. "Do something… stop these lunatics before they destroy my country's heritage!" His words sounded more like an order.

  The other man, dressed in a mix of wizarding and traditional clothing, gave him a sideways glance, his expression clearly showing disdain. "Sheikh Hassan, please show some respect to Madam Speaker. We're lucky she even decided to respond to your request."

  The girl beside the woman also glanced at him, her irritation clear. "Teacher will act when she wants to, old man..."

  Her words earned a sharp look from the older man. "What action? You want the entire mountain to disappear, little girl?" He paused, his tone growing more annoyed. "And this is not something a child should—"

  "Be very careful with what you say next, Emir Hassan," the tall woman cut in, her voice firm and weighted, her French accent unmistakable. It was clear that the woman and the girl shared a close bond.

  (A/N: "Emir" is a title used to address certain rulers or leaders in Middle Eastern countries.)

  The older man flinched, his eyes widening before he quickly fell silent, as though the very air around him had grown heavier under an invisible force.

  After a moment of tense silence, the other man said, "It's gone quiet," glancing down.

  The tall woman raised an eyebrow. "It seems the old fool is desperate," she said quietly.

  "Teacher, what are they saying?" the little girl asked, glancing up at her with curiosity.

  The woman turned to meet her gaze and offered a small smile before looking back below. "The criminal Morvain seems to be trying to negotiate. He's offering wealth to the... mysterious man he's fighting."

  "You mean he's losing?" the man in wizarding robes and traditional attire interjected, a surprised expression on his face.

  "Apparently so," the tall woman replied, but her expression suddenly shifted, her pupils contracting. "Ce n'est pas bon..." she muttered in French, her tone solemn.

  The little girl gave her a questioning look but noticed her teacher suddenly turn her head toward another direction and nod, as though in silent communication with someone.

  Before the girl could ask, the woman spoke again, her voice steady yet commanding as she glanced at the now timid-looking Sheikh. "Emir Hassan, stay close to Minister Yasir." She turned to the others. "All of you, be on guard. Do not waver, no matter what pressure you feel on your minds."

  She then looked down beside her. "Fleur, stay close. Hold onto my robes," she said gently but firmly, switching to French for the last part.

  Raising both her hands, the magical construct they stood in began to rise higher and higher, stopping only when the mountain below appeared half its original size.

  The woman started chanting in a strange, unknown language, her eyes glowing with an ethereal light. The others remained silent, their faces tense, but also filled with awe, as they began to feel the weight of powerful magic emanating from her like a heavy downpour.

  They did not interrupt, understanding that something significant and dangerous may be about to unfold from below.

  Before their eyes, a barrier began to materialize, stretching outward in a massive circular formation, covering at least a kilometer. Its sheer size was awe-inspiring.

  To their surprise, another identical barrier formed far across from them, advancing toward their own. As the edges moved closer, the two barriers began to connect, forming a colossal dome that encompassed the entire mountain below.

  —————————

  The air grew heavy as a dense, ominous pressure began to press down on the rocky desert.

  In the heart of the chaos stood a half-naked, bloodied old man, facing a figure covered in black, separated by a tense distance.

  A blood-soaked parchment hovered beside the old man, but his gaze never wavered from the figure across from him. His bloodshot eyes burned with a fury so intense it was as though he were staring at his most hated enemy.

  Maverick's expression hardened as his Magical-Sense flared with danger. The bloodied parchment pulsed with malevolent energy, its oppressive darkness intensifying.

  The overwhelming force compelled him to retreat a few meters, but his gaze remained locked on the old wizard.

  A low, maniacal chuckle escaped Morvain, dripping with madness and disdain as he watched the figure across from him.

  Then, as if sensing something, his eyes narrowed, glancing upward briefly before returning to the figure before him. "So, your owner's been watching all along, hasn't he, dog?"

  Maverick too, cast a quick glance upward as his Magical-Sense detected a powerful barrier enclosing the area. He knew his teacher was nearby and assumed it was his doing, so he paid it no further mind and shifted his focus back to the old man.

  He watched as the old man began muttering frantically in an unfamiliar language, and soon after, the bloodied parchment beside him began glowing ominously, pulsing with crimson light.

  Then, with a sudden, maniacal laugh, the old wizard raised his hand to the sky.

  "GREAT DEMON SLIFER! GRANT ME YOUR UNHOLY POWER!"

  With the old man's manic scream, Maverick immediately felt the pressure around him intensify. A wave of raw power struck him, forcing him to cross his arms in a defensive brace as he was shoved back several meters.

  The ground beneath him began to rumble, and even the once-clear sky darkened as clouds formed at an unnatural speed, signaling that something ominous and dangerous was about to be unleashed.

  He saw the bloodied parchment disintegrated into crimson light, which then coalesced into a small, glowing, blood-red bead, before embedding itself into the old wizard's chest.

  Everything unfolding before him felt like an evil ritual, or perhaps an offering made in exchange for something far worse. The air was thick with an uneasy, dark energy. Maverick could sense that whatever the old man had just completed, its consequences were about to unfold.

  Sure enough, a dark, malevolent energy began to spread from the old wizard, filling the air with a chilling presence. Maverick watched as the old man's eyes turned an unnatural pitch black—empty, soulless voids, as if they were no longer human.

  He heard the old man speak, but the voice that came out was not his own. It was distorted, unnatural, as though something ancient and terrible was controlling him. The few words he spoke carried a chilling weight, their meaning even more terrifying.

  "A THOUSAND INFANT SOULS..."

  It was a statement, a price to be paid, a consequence to be faced.

  Almost immediately after the voice faded, the old wizard's pupils returned to normal, but his whole presence had changed.

  Maverick saw the old man lazily inspect his body for a moment before looking ahead and meeting his gaze.

  He spoke in an eerily calm voice, as if recounting an old story. "For centuries, I have bargained with the fallen for life, hoping that one day I might elevate my rank..."

  "You see, boy, I spent years relentlessly gathering my magic, seeking a breakthrough, but life is cruelly finite. There is no spell, no potion, no enchantment to stave off death once the sands of time run out—unless, of course, one dares to delve into darker paths. Equivalent exchange... sacrifices must be made." He paused, his gaze hollow, as though reliving the deeds he'd done.

  "I wasn't like this at first. Cruel. At first, I detested it—the blood of magical virgins staining my hands. But then I saw... we wizards, who are meant to stand above all others, debase ourselves by mingling with lesser beings... choosing to mate... with animals."

  He paused once more, as if daring anyone to judge him, "So tell me, what is so unspeakable about sacrificing the byproducts of such loathsome unions? Half-breeds, mongrels—creatures with magic but none of its dignity. Animals, nothing more, nothing less."

  Morvain's voice dropped to a low, menacing whisper as he continued. "Centuries I have offered them, and for my devotion, I was rewarded. Today, I stood on the brink of ascension—at the peak of the Great-Magus, just one step from a breakthrough. And you, you insignificant child, have made it all meaningless..."

  His tone shifted, darker now, laced with rage.

  "Just a few more decades, a few more offerings, and I would have reached the ranks of those seven monsters. I was so close... it was within my grasp."

  "Now I'll have to offer countless more lives than ever before, a slave to their demands... and for what? A fleeting surge of power to deal with a nobody like you—a clown whose name I don't even know," he growled, his calm fa?ade cracking under the weight of his fury.

  Maverick listened quietly to the old man's rant, his face blank.

  The old fool tried to justify his evil deeds, but in reality, he was nothing but a blatant racist. It was clear now.

  Maverick watched as Morvain's grip on his wand tightened, his eyes turning bloodshot, until finally, he let out a furious roar.

  Then, a wave of raw, unprecedented power burst from him, surging outward like a massive wave and engulfing the entire area in its crushing grip.

  Rumble!

  Rumble!

  It felt as though gravity itself had multiplied tenfold. Maverick staggered under the weight, as if a mountain had collapsed onto his shoulders. His senses wavered, distorted by the crushing pressure.

  It wasn't just physical. It went deeper. The weight pressed on his very spirit, trying to shatter his resolve and extinguish his will to face the man before him.

  He knew exactly what this was. Dominant Spirit! The very manifestation of magical will. But for someone like Morvain, who had not yet ascended to Arch-Magus, to unleash it at such intensity? Maverick figured it likely had something to do with the ritual and the temporary power boost it had granted Morvain.

  There was no time to dwell on it though. The force had completely enveloped him, as if it sought to make his spirit kneel.

  Gritting his teeth, he slowly lifted his head, his determined gaze locking onto the old wizard's wild, furious eyes.

  Then...

  BOOM!

  An equally powerful surge of magic erupted from him, instantly shattering the oppressive force pressing down on him. The wave of his own Dominant Spirit clashed with Morvain's, slowly pushing it back until the two forces met in an unyielding stalemate.

  The clash of their wills intensified, causing the air around them to tremble violently, so much so that it began to affect the weather itself. The already dark sky churned, swirling storm clouds spiraling above, as if the heavens themselves were reacting to the chaos of their confrontation.

  "IMPOSSIBLE!" Morvain bellowed, disbelief etched across his face. "YOU'RE JUST A MARQUIS!"

  Maverick said nothing, pushing his will forward. He watched as the old wizard first showed disbelief, then anger, which soon turned into fury.

  AAAAHH!

  He screamed, losing the last shred of his sanity. Then, with a desperate surge, he thrust his wand forward, his voice cracking as he roared, "COME! HELL FIRE!"

  A torrent of crimson flames erupted from his wand, surging forward with terrifying speed. In that instant, both wizards instinctively ceased their struggle of wills.

  Maverick reacted swiftly, propelling himself backwards while a shimmering shield of magic formed before him, protecting him from the incoming inferno.

  He accelerated, retreating further, but the flames showed no sign of ceasing their relentless expansion. It wasn't that they were following him, but rather that they were growing—swelling larger and larger with every passing moment.

  In mere seconds, the fire transformed into a monstrous sphere, over half a kilometer in size. The ground beneath it turned to molten lava, and the rocks near the mountain's base liquefied under the intense heat.

  "RISE!!!"

  The old wizard's frantic scream pierced through the chaos, his voice barely audible over the roar of the flames.

  Then, to Maverick's astonishment, the fire began to shift. The once chaotic inferno slowly morphed into a massive, humanoid figure—crimson flames swirling and reshaping into a towering form, as tall as the mountain itself.

  A deafening roar erupted from the fiery creature as it swung its flaming arms, each swipe blasting chunks of the mountainside away.

  Maverick watched, frozen in shock, his hands shaking uncontrollably as the monstrosity took form. He could feel the intense heat radiating from it, despite being hundreds of meters away.

  But it wasn't just the searing heat that shook him—it was the power. The magic. The sheer weight of the malevolent energy emanating from it. It was the same energy he had felt when the old wizard's eyes turned black, when the demonic voice had spoken through him.

  His mind raced, weighing his options. There was no time for hesitation. The illusion spell, which he might have relied on earlier, was completely useless now. Morvain's magic had become far too large, erratic, and unstable. Any attempt to cast such a spell would be instantly negated.

  That left him with two choices. He could signal for his teacher to intervene—or...

  His thoughts moved to the system.

  Over the past year and two months, his points had accumulated into the thousands. Of those, nearly 2,000 had been used to increase his wizard rank to Great-Magus, and another 1,000 had been spent on upgrading the new spells he had accumulated during his travels.

  Now with nearly 3,400 points left, the time had come to make a choice. He hesitated for only a moment before making his decision. There was no time to waste.

  It was a choice between Transfiguration or the most destructive spell in his arsenal.

  Fiendfyre.

  Grindelwald had nearly turned half of Paris to ash with it. Maverick believed only the former Dark Lord had achieved Master-level proficiency with the spell in recent history.

  The other option was raising his Transfiguration talent to Master level. But upgrading a talent from Advanced to Master proficiency would burn 3,000 points, and that was simply too much for the moment.

  With a clenched jaw, Maverick pushed 1,000 points into upgrading Fiendfyre from Advanced to Master proficiency.

  He didn't stop there. As the rush of memories and experience flooded his being, he pushed another 1,000 points directly into his Magical Energy. Exhausted and with little stamina left, he needed to replenish it quickly, and this was the fastest way to make it happen.

  It wasn't the most efficient use of his points, but Maverick didn't have time to be efficient. Though this wouldn't restore him to full strength, it would bring him close enough, and the added Magical-Energy would amplify the power of his spell.

  As the familiar surge of energy coursed through him, Maverick briefly glanced at his status screen, confirming the changes.

  [ Name: Maverick Caesar ]

  [ Class: Wizard ]

  [ Rank: Great-Magus ]

  [ Magical Energy: 5,782+ ]

  [ Points: 1,359 ]

  [ Extraordinary Characteristic Points: 0 ]

  [ Extraordinary Characteristics: ]

  [ Excellent grade spellcasting ]

  [ Excellent grade Independent Expanded Dimension ]

  [ Excellent grade Flight ]

  [ Talents: ]

  [ Magical Energy Manipulation (Advanced +) ]

  [ Magical Sense (Advanced +) ]

  [ Spacial Rift (Advanced +) ]

  [ Dominant Spirit (Advanced +) ]

  [ Transfiguration (Advanced +) ]

  [ Alchemy (Advanced +) ]

  [ Potions (Intermediate +) ]

  [ Spells: ]

  [ Aquired Master Proficiency: ]

  [ Fiendfyre + ]

  [ Aquired Advanced Proficiency: ]

  [ Illusio Lunam Lectorem + | Flipendo + | Bombarda + | Bombarda Maxima + | Expelliarmus + | Sanare Vipra (Advanced healing) + | Protego + | Finite Incantatem + | Petrificus Totalus + | Stupefy + | PatronusCharm + | Episkey (Healing) + | Reparo + | Revelio + | Disillusionment + | Wingardium Leviosa + | Occlumency + | Legilimency + | Apparition + | Mirror World spell + | Confundus + ]

  [ Aquired Intermediate Proficiency: ]

  [ ... ]

  With the added points to his Magical-Energy, Maverick felt his stamina return. The exhaustion that had weighed on him lifted, replaced by a sense of clarity. More importantly, he felt stronger, more focused and his confidence grew as the power inside him settled, ready to be used.

  —————————

  High above the mountain range.

  The Emir of the Emirates murmured Arabic phrases repetitively, his trembling voice echoing as if the chants alone could shield him from the nightmare unfolding below.

  What lay beneath them was a monstrosity beyond comprehension, a scene that defied both imagination and reason. The sheer scale of it sent a chill through his spine, his hand instinctively clutching the robes of his counter part beside him—the Minister of Magic for his nation.

  ROAR!

  They watched as the monster, towering like a mountain and engulfed in flames as if it were the very incarnation of hell itself, let out a thunderous bellow, swinging its arms wildly like a mindless beast.

  Hot gusts of wind and shockwaves erupted from its center, reaching them even from nearly two kilometers above the ground. Fortunately, they were safe. A dome-like barrier of pure magic surrounded them, a protective construct crafted by the Arch-Magus woman at their side.

  "What in Merlin's name has Victor Morvain gotten himself into... this evil magic is..." muttered Minister Yasir, his voice trembling as he stared downward, his face a mixture of horror and shock.

  "This is... not just magic from our world," the tall woman answered, her gaze fixed on the chaos below. Her voice was solemn as she addressed the entire group. "Demonology. Power drawn from other dimensions. That old man... it seems he has ties to the Zealots."

  She stood with her hands outstretched, a colossal barrier encasing the entire mountain like a shimmering dome. This was no mere shield spell, but something countless times more powerful—a magic only a witch of her caliber could conjure.

  "Speaker Maxime... you mean..." Minister Yasir asked, his voice filled with shock as he turned to look at her.

  "Teacher... what's a Zealot?" the little girl asked, unable to help herself as she clung to her robe. It was clear she wasn't familiar with the strange term.

  The tall woman glanced down at her, her tone soft but firm. "It's not something you need to worry about, ma chère..." she said, her eyes quickly returning to the scene unfolding before them.

  Just then, a wave of terrifying magic crashed into the barrier, making it shudder violently. The force rippled through the air, but just as quickly as it struck, the barrier stabilized, silencing the disturbance.

  "The mysterious man is finally showing his hand," said the tall woman, now identified as Maxime. Her voice was calm and steady as she waved her hand, effortlessly dissipating the shockwave that had rattled her construct.

  From their position, Morvain and Maverick were barely visible specks amidst the turmoil, the sheer devastation making it nearly impossible to spot them with sight alone.

  But for a witch of her caliber, this was no challenge. Her gaze remained fixed on the two figures, and more than that, she had heard every word they'd spoken since her arrival.

  Her attention sharpened on the black-clad figure, hovering defiantly as a faintly glowing shield protected him from the fiery winds and waves of force. A part of her couldn't help but feel curious as he used a magic unfamiliar to her to glide through the air.

  She watched as, with a swift movement, he flew backward, retreating hundreds of meters in an instant, moving with incredible speed, away from the towering, flaming giant.

  For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, hovering motionless as if lost in thought. Then, slowly, the figure raised his wand toward the sky.

  What came next stopped her breath.

  A surge of flames erupted from him, blazing upward with fierce intensity. These flames were nothing like the demon's orange inferno—no, they were deeper, richer, a crimson red, like the color of blood. They expanded rapidly, growing larger with each passing moment, consuming everything in their path.

  Her heart raced as she watched. She recognized the magic. She had seen it before and even wielded it herself. But the skill, the sheer mastery, the control—it had been decades since she had witnessed anyone command the unruly fire so effortlessly. Unlike Morvain, this masked figure was doing it with nothing but his mind and magic, with no external force or entity guiding the power.

  The crimson flames surged higher, growing until they towered over the desert like a second sun, pulsing with raw, unbridled energy. Then, slowly, the shape began to shift.

  Wings.

  Massive wings of fire unfurled, their span nearly half a kilometer wide. They beat the air with slow, deliberate power, sending scorching waves of heat crashing down the mountainside. Even the blazing monster was pushed back, the hurricane-like force from a few powerful flaps shoving it toward the mountain side.

  And then came the body.

  The flames twisted and shifted, shaping a massive, regal form. Within moments, a colossal bird stood towering over the chaos, its fiery wings stretching into the sky. Its crimson glow bathed the landscape in an ominous light, and the raw energy it radiated was enough to make even the tall woman's hands tremble.

  Within the construct, shock was evident on every face. Even Maxime, usually so composed, showed signs of awe.

  For everyone else, their astonishment came purely from what they were witnessing. The raw power of the spectacle was beyond their understanding, something they could only imagine. The Arch-Magus's barrier absorbed it all, shielding them from the overwhelming force.

  "P-professeur..." The little girl's voice shook as she clung to Maxime's robes, fear evident in her eyes.

  Maxime knelt down, her gaze softening as she placed a gentle hand on the girl's trembling shoulder. "I'm here... you're safe," she murmured in their native tongue, her voice steady and reassuring. She paused, lifting the girl's chin so their eyes met. "Watch closely. Take in every detail. A duel like this... it's something you may never see again."

  On the other side, a similar scene played out as Edward used his magic to shield the two Magus beside him. Unlike his colleague in rank, Edward was prepared to intervene at any moment. He stood ready, waiting for his pupil's signal to step in and put an end to the chaos that was rapidly overwhelming the land beneath them.

  ....

  IMPOSSIBLE!

  IMPOSSIBLE!

  The frantic, unwilling cries of Morvain went unheard as he watched in disbelief, overwhelmed by the endless surprises this unknown figure had brought.

  His eyes locked onto the colossal crimson bird of fire, its claws lunging forward, pinning his creation to the mountain.

  His mind refused to accept what he was seeing, unable to comprehend how a Great-Magus like himself could overpower his own creation—something he had summoned into existence by channeling evil magic after pledging himself to a demon.

  It wasn't just the sheer force that shocked him, it was the obedience of the inferno itself, a flame known to be the most forbidden due to its wild, uncontrollable nature. In the end, Morvain could do nothing but watch helplessly as his creation was torn apart.

  Behind it all, Maverick hovered above the Fiendfyre, his form a mere silhouette against the blazing spectacle below. Every ounce of his power was channeled into the inferno, the raw magic flowing through him as his recently replenished stamina was rapidly drained. The strain was immense—he could feel his body protesting, the exhaustion creeping in—but the power he commanded was undeniable.

  His grasp on the destructive spell had grown into something far beyond his expectations. It felt as though the flame had become an extension of himself, responding to his every command with flawless obedience.

  And it wasn't just destroying Morvain's demonic creation, it was devouring it. The crimson raven swelled in size and intensity, growing fiercer with each passing moment. In contrast, the humanoid fire shrank, its power diminishing rapidly.

  ROARR!

  ROARR!

  The two colossal fire behemoths clashed with apocalyptic force, their flames as vast as the mountain itself. Each strike sent shockwaves through the air, reducing the landscape to ruin. The mountain trembled and crumbled under their power, boulders turning to molten slag on contact. The heat was so intense that it could burn anything nearby, while the scorching winds spread out, strong enough to vaporize anything unlucky enough to be caught in their wake.

  "I DON'T ACCEPT THIS!"

  "This is impossible! THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!"

  Morvain's desperate cries pierced the air, but they fell on deaf ears. He looked broken, both in mind and body. The once-lean muscles had vanished, leaving him resembling a malnourished old man, his appearance finally matching the age on his face. It was as if the price of his dark rituals had finally caught up to him.

  He watched helplessly as his twisted magic was crushed, pinned to the mountain like prey caught in a trap. The crimson bird's beak pressed against the demonic fire's face, and he could see the flames being drawn in, like a black hole. His creation's size and power shrank rapidly, while the enemy's grew ever more formidable.

  As the fiery humanoid shrank, its grasp on the magic holding its form together weakened. With every passing second, it became more unstable, glowing brighter and flickering violently, as if it could erupt in a catastrophic explosion at any moment.

  Sensing the impending danger, Morvain, utterly drained, made a frantic bid for escape. He stumbled and scrambled across the shattered terrain, a miserable impression of the powerhouse he had once been.

  Maverick, on the other hand, had been fully focused on obliterating the monstrous entity. But then, as realization struck, he abruptly launched himself backward, flying swiftly to create distance.

  The colossal fiery raven, as if sentient and responsive to its master's will, unleashed a single, thunderous beat of its wings. It released its talons from the monstrous humanoid and lunged toward Maverick with power and speed.

  Moments later, everything collapsed into chaos.

  BOOOOOM!!!

  The unstable mass of fire erupted, expanding like a devastating explosion that shook the mountain to its core. The blast originated at its heart, carving out a nearly kilometer-wide chunk from the 26-kilometer-long, 5-kilometer-wide peak.

  It happened in an instant, fueled by nothing but raw, unstable magic—expanding and contracting in a flash, obliterating everything in its path. Boulders and rocks melted into molten streams or vaporized on the spot. All that remained was scorched ground and the bitter stench of burning earth.

  —————

  "Get outta there, kid... get outta there..." Edward muttered repeatedly under his breath, his eyes fixed on the chaos before him. His face was tight with tension, fists clenched, ready to act at any moment.

  His words, though quiet, didn't go unnoticed by the two magus standing beside him. They were also frozen in disbelief, struggling to process what they were witnessing.

  The struggle for dominance between the two titans wreaked absolute destruction, with molten boulders larger than trucks hurled through the air in the aftermath.

  Gradually, the demonic titan shrank with each passing moment, its very essence devoured by the raven's relentless hunger.

  "Is... Is the boss okay, Mr. Speaker?" Aisha asked, quickly glancing at Edward before focusing back on the chaos below. To her, Maverick—or whatever he had created—seemed to have the upper hand. But she knew better than to believe everything she saw, so she turned to the Arch-Magus when she heard him muttering under his breath.

  "Quiet and let me focus..." Edward responded instinctively, causing the witch to flinch and swallow anything else she had wanted to say. He was too focused on his pupil, and unlike Ali and Aisha, he understood the situation better and could sense what was truly happening.

  He saw the demonic titan beneath the blazing raven lose its magic, and at the same time, he noticed it becoming increasingly unstable. It was only a matter of moments before it collapsed, the immense force held in check by magic, threatening to erupt in a catastrophic burst.

  "You two, stay put..." Edward spoke suddenly. It was the first time they saw the Arch-Magus this anxious. "I'll go grab the kid—"

  Before he could finish his words or act on his impulse, the inevitable began.

  BOOOOM!

  "Shit..."

  He cursed under his breath, moving swiftly. He cut off the magic flowing into the mountain's protective dome, leaving only the construct around the two magus to keep them safe. With a burst of speed, he lunged like a rocket.

  But before he could even get halfway, the fiery raven surged forward with an unnatural swiftness for its size and engulfed his student. His eyes widened in shock, but being the man he was, he quickly understood the bold action his student must have been thinking.

  Reluctantly, he quickly changed course, blinking back to the construct. "You better not die..." he muttered, his voice filled with anxiety and concern for his pupil.

  For Ali and Aisha, by the time realization hit, it was already too late. They didn't have time to voice their concerns, as they watched the catastrophe unfold before them.

  Edward ignored their shocked, reluctant expressions and pushed the construct upward with all his power. Yet, despite his efforts, the expanding tsunami of fire surged faster, quickly engulfing them.

  Thankfully, Edward was no ordinary wizard. The apocalyptic flames would have obliterated any lesser wizard, but they barely scratched the Arch-Magus's protective magic—revealing just a fraction of the sheer magnitude of his power.

  For Ali and Aisha, though they didn't feel the heat or shock of the explosion, their eyes couldn't escape the blinding light, countless times brighter than staring directly at the sun.

  It was so intense that for years to come, the people of Oman, the Emirates, and neighboring nations would speak of it, weaving stories and conspiracy theories about the blinding glow that had once filled the night sky.

  ....

  Half an hour later, the sky cleared. The dark clouds, which had appeared out of nowhere, disappeared just as quickly as they came after the battle ended, revealing a beautiful sea of stars that would usually be visible from this spot.

  The catastrophic blast left no lingering smoke or deadly radiation. Unlike the fiery aftermath of explosions from elemental reactions, magical flames didn't follow the laws of science. There was no combustion—in other words, it was unscientific.

  But that didn't mean the aftermath was any less devastating. A massive chunk of the mountain had completely vanished, leaving behind a molten wasteland. The entire battlefield was unrecognizable, with scattered boulders and debris littering the land. Most of the area, especially near the center, had turned into a sea of lava.

  Near the center of the devastation, a shape resembling a cocoon, oval and about the height of an average adult, hovered a foot above the molten ground. Its outer shell glowed a deep crimson, resembling the color of metal heated to its breaking point.

  It was now quiet, the devastation settled, with only the occasional bubbling of molten rock breaking the silence—until...

  Rumble!

  Rumble!

  The outer layer began to crack, molten pieces breaking off and peeling away in glowing chunks.

  Boom!

  With a sudden burst, the cocoon-like casing shattered outward, revealing a crouched figure inside. He had his arms crossed over his head and legs bent to shield his chest, all while protected by a radiant barrier. Despite everything, the figure, clad entirely in black, appeared unharmed.

  But who could tell what lay beneath?

  Just before the fiery humanoid erupted, Maverick had commanded his feathery creation to envelop him. The forbidden spell, at his current level of mastery, went beyond the norm, pushing past even the boundaries of genius.

  It allowed him to use Fiendfyre not just as a weapon, but as a shield. His mastery of the spell allowed him to absorb other flames, so when the explosion came, Maverick used that principle to control it. He absorbed the blast's force, redirecting it outward to form a protective cocoon of fire around himself.

  It was a bold, risky move, but it was his only option. And fortunately, it worked—though now he was nearly exhausted.

  Maverick slowly turned his head and for the first time truly took in the aftermath of the chaos he had caused. He wasn't proud. This wasn't his land to destroy. But he didn't regret it either.

  Morvain had to be stopped, and this was the only way to do so without endangering innocent lives. Otherwise, the old wizard would have gotten away with it all.

  Tired, exhausted, and injured in ways he couldn't even understand, it was still no time for a break. He extended his Magical-Sense, closing his eyes as he hovered above the sea of lava. After a moment, his eyes snapped open, the mask mimicking his action, only, the eyes were crimson.

  Using magic to assist the limbs he could not move physically, he prepared to move. With a swift thrust, he shot through the air like a rocket, covering 200 meters in an instant.

  There, he saw a large boulder, something unnatural. The surface was liquefied, but it appeared solid within.

  With a wave of his hand, he gripped the boulder with pure magic, and—crack!—it shattered and crumbled with barely any effort.

  And there he was—Morvain. Though he had expected it to some extent, it still surprised him a little. Even in the state he was in, he somehow managed to save himself, though he now appeared to be neither man nor ghost.

  The old wizard was scorched beyond recognition, his ragged pants fused to his skin, resembling more of a Martian than a man. But Maverick felt no sympathy. This was a twisted, racist creature of the greatest evil.

  Wasting no time dwelling on such filth, he waved his hand again, forcefully yanked the two rings from the half-dead corpse's right hand, and immediately sent them to his expanded dimensional space.

  Then, just as he did so, his Magical-Sense warned him—something was descending rapidly, heading straight for his location.

  It wasn't his teacher, of that he was sure. However, the approaching party was no weaker than Edward Garling himself. And now that he thought about it, there was no way that level of noise could have gone unnoticed by nearby powerhouses. He just hadn't expected it would be another Arch-Magus that would come.

  Regardless, there was one important thing he needed to do. Morvain was still alive, though unconscious, and Merlin knew how long he would stay that way if left untreated—if it could even be treated. But magic was magic. It could make the impossible possible.

  There was barely any movement, just a quick flick of his finger, and then—

  Woosh!

  A blade, transfigured from the earth, rose from below in an instant, slicing between Morvain's shoulders and his head, decisively severing it from his body, ending the man for good.

  Almost simultaneously, a tall, slender figure plummeted from above, striking the ground with a heavy impact.

  Boom!

  The superheated rocks beneath barely seemed to faze her. As the dust settled, he took in the sight of a strikingly beautiful woman draped in elegant formal clothing layered beneath a luxurious, fur-trimmed cloak, rising gracefully from her dramatic landing pose.

  He raised a brow beneath his mask. He knew this woman, and his earlier hunch had been correct. She was an Arch-Magus, like his teacher. Olympe Maxime, a French half-giant witch, and the headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic in France.

  What intrigued him most was her appearance. She was tall, yes, but her beauty was striking—one of the few that truly left an impression on him. Until now, he hadn't encountered a single person whose appearance matched the actors or actresses who portrayed them in the movie series.

  The woman met his gaze, her eyes locking with his. She didn't move or step forward, simply studying him in silence for a while. Only then did she speak.

  "Why did you kill him?"

  She was pretty direct. Yet, despite her being one of the most powerful people in the world, he showed no outward reaction, no flinch, no sign of hesitation.

  But before he could answer...

  "Hahahaha!"

  The laugh erupted like a storm, a deafening boom that rolled across the landscape, impossible to ignore, reaching every ear within its grasp.

  "Old woman, I didn't peg you for someone who preys on those beneath your rank."

  —————————

  "Hahahaha! Old woman, is this how you keep yourself entertained... Picking on some little guy?"

  Edward Garling's voice thundered across the landscape like a storm, impossible to ignore.

  The woman, whom Maverick presumed to be Olympe Maxime, wore a disgusted expression at the loud echo before lifting her gaze.

  He followed her line of sight and spotted a small silhouette streaking rapidly downward from the sky. What began as a mere speck grew rapidly, sharpening its form until it revealed a figure he knew all too well.

  Boom!

  The man landed a few meters from the woman, hitting the heated ground with a heavy impact, his stance even more dramatic than hers.

  Two Arch-Magus now stood before him, the three forming a tense triangle. For hungry journalists or gossip seekers, this moment would overshadow even the apocalyptic duel from an hour ago.

  "Your words are as vulgar as ever..." He heard the woman speak with a tone of loathing, likely in response to the strange greeting moments ago, though no magic was used to amplify her voice.

  "Haha... What do you want me to call you... Madame Maxime?" Edward replied, his tone teasing as if speaking to an acquaintance. His magic pulsed with a sound like a heartbeat, sweeping away the smoky dust left in the wake of his landing.

  Maverick didn't see Ali or Aisha with Edward, and he wasn't about to flaunt his Magical-Sense in front of these two monsters. If he were careful, he could do it without them noticing, but he didn't bother. He trusted his teacher.

  Edward, he didn't mind, but this Maxime—he knew nothing about her, except what he had read and heard.

  In any case, this place, in its current state, was not for the average person. The heat radiating from the area would be unbearable for any normal being. Their skin and flesh would burn to the bone the moment they set foot here without some form of protection. It was better they weren't here.

  Maxime let out a dismissive huff. "I'd rather you keep that foul mouth of yours shut," she said before turning her attention back to Maverick. "I'll ask again... Why kill him when he was no longer a threat?"

  Maverick didn't respond immediately, taking a moment to think carefully. Even with his teacher present, he didn't want Edward to step in, nor did he want Maxime to realize their connection.

  Fortunately, Edward seemed to share the same mindset. He didn't respond to her earlier comment, simply shrugged it off before turning his attention to Maverick. He too voiced Maxime's doubt in his own way.

  "I'd like to know that as well," he asked, his tone growing sharp. "After all, he was a former High Councillor of the ICW. Criminal or not, his fate should have been decided by the International Supreme Court of Magic, not by a random guy dressed like some No-Maj vigilante..."

  There was a brief pause before his gaze narrowed, and he leaned in slightly, adding one last question. "So tell me, who the hell are you?"

  It was a reasonable doubt, and Maverick took a moment to carefully consider his response. The two King-ranked magicals watched as his crimson eyes flicked between them, before the distorted voice rang out.

  "ICW... the same organization that issued his warrant," the figure spoke, gesturing toward the corpse. "Dead... or alive, wasn't it?... As far as I can see... I haven't broken any laws to answer for."

  Finally, locking eyes with his mentor, he added sharply, "My identity... it has nothing to do with you, Speaker..." It was all part of the act, and he was playing his role.

  And this was Bloodraven speaking. His tone remained deliberately flat, and the distortion in his voice made it nearly impossible for anyone to discern anything about him. In reality, it was all to cultivate an air of mystery and to keep the half-giant witch from making any random guesses.

  From what he had learned from his teacher, he had some insight into the Seven Arch-Magus and their personalities. They were proud, and rightfully so, given their immense power and status.

  But they weren't petty—at least, this woman shouldn't be the type to stoop to such pettiness, forcing him to remove the mask, especially when he hadn't broken any laws.

  His actions—and his teacher's—were simply a matter of being overly cautious. Still, if the worst came to pass, he had already made preparations for that scenario.

  And speaking of, the woman merely raised an eyebrow as she listened to his sharp remark, her expression briefly turning unreadable, as if some strange thought had crossed her mind.

  Then a tense silence fell, until Edward decided to break it, as the last response had been directed at him. "To be honest, I don't care who you are. But you shouldn't have killed him. The man likely has associates. It would have been better to hand him over for interrogation and trial..."

  Maverick, feeling bold, responded without changing his flat tone. "I'll be blunt, Speaker Garling, Speaker Maxime," he glanced between the two Arch-Magus. "Your ICW isn't some noble organization of righteous angels. It's a den of old, corrupt politicians, just like those regular human representatives... The seven of you may not care because these matters may be too small for your majestic selves to intervene... but do you have any idea how many times this filth has gotten away with his crimes, using the very system the ICW runs on?"

  Maxime was momentarily taken aback—not by the sharpness of his words, but by the boldness with which they were spoken. It had been a long, long time since anyone had addressed her so directly. Her growing, subtle interest began transform into something deeper, evolving into an unusual curiosity.

  After all, Arch-Magus would be accustomed to people lowering their attitudes when speaking to them. They would rarely encounter anyone who would face them with blatant confrontation.

  "Careful there..." Edward's voice turned cold, his eyes narrowing. "You may not have broken any laws, but you're ridiculing the very system that the entire wizarding world runs on... what we represent."

  A tense silence stretched once again until Maxime spoke up. "He's right..." Her unexpected acknowledgment surprised both of them, who had been playing along with the act. They saw her expression had changed, now completely something else.

  She flashed a smile—almost alluring—that sent a shiver down Maverick's spine. "Monsieur Raven," she continued gaze fixed on him, "you are correct in your argument... So now that you've captured this dangerous criminal, why don't you come with me to headquarters? I'll personally arrange the warrent reward for you."

  The corner of his eye twitched. Who the hell is Monsieur Reven? He complained inwardly, annoyed that the woman was vandalizing his alias.

  Her words sounded fishy from start to finish, so he decided it was time to make his exit. There was no reason left for him to stay. Though he appeared fine on the outside, he was exhausted and badly in need of treatment.

  More importantly, he didn't want to risk staying near this woman any longer. Even though he and his mentor were putting on an act, there was always a chance she might figure something out. Bloodraven was Bloodraven, and he intended to keep the alias remained a mystery to everyone.

  He had noticed for a while now that the anti-apparition barriers had already been removed by his teacher, so there were no longer any external obstacles preventing the use of space-based skills.

  But Apparition was dangerous for a reason. If a third party were to interfere during the moment of the jump, it could lead to some nasty, unexpected consequences.

  Moreover, he knew the Arch-Magus could manipulate space at specific points, so preventing him from even attempting to Apparate wouldn't be much of a problem for the half-giant witch.

  And judging by the woman's last remark, it was clear she either wanted to know something or had already figured something out. Asking him to go to the ICW HQ was just nonsense, a less direct way of saying she wanted him to come with her—or she would grab him herself if necessary.

  But this wasn't an issue for him. The woman, Maxime, was already under the illusion spell. Now, you might wonder how a powerful Arch-Magus like her hadn't noticed anything.

  Well, that's the most dangerous aspect of the illusion spell. As long as the caster doesn't alter anything that deviates from reality, the person or people under the spell would have no way of realizing they were affected.

  As a result, even though she was caught in it, her powerful senses detected nothing amiss because nothing had been changed.

  In other words, the spell was dormant, waiting for the caster's instruction. Until Maverick decided otherwise, everything she saw, smelled, and felt would be the same reality that anyone else, not affected by the spell, would perceive.

  The longer she remained under the spell, the easier it would be for him to make a quick change. It would be a short window, but enough time for him to bail before she noticed.

  And she would notice—he was sure of it. Not immediately, but quickly enough, given the sharpness of an Arch-Magus's Magical-Sense.

  Gathering his thoughts and focus, he met the witch's gaze. His crimson eyes narrowed dangerously as his voice came out flat, distorted. "Not interested. You can give the bounty, the whole 100,000 galleons, to the nation this area belongs to."

  The woman narrowed her eyes in response. She wasn't intimidated, but this was the second time this person had confronted or rejected her, and it intrigued her even more.

  She wanted to know who could be so bold, so daring, as to face not just her, but two Arch-Magus at once.

  There was no hidden motive behind her request. To her, it was just a simple ask. She was used to getting things her way. Most importantly, she simply wanted the information for herself, not Edward—just herself. It was a strange kind of rivalry—if it could even be called that.

  "I insist, Monsieur Reven. Please allow me to show my appreciation for your bravery in... putting an end to that criminal... And you needn't worry about the damage here. My repair spell is quite good, if I do say so myself..." she pressed, trying to remain as respectful as possible.

  She wasn't used to showing this much courtesy to anyone, especially to an unknown person, regardless of how intrigued she was by him.

  The more she insisted, the more uneasy Maverick felt. Even Edward sensed that the woman was up to something.

  Not wanting the situation to drag on any longer, Maverick decided to act.

  Maxime watched as the mysterious person narrowed his crimson eyes at her once again before speaking. "I said I'm not interested. Nor in your appreciation. What I did, I did because I believed it was the right thing to do."

  As the distorted voice rang out, his body slowly began to ascend, floating upward.

  She raised a brow, unaware of what was truly happening. "I advise you not to use Apparition, Monsieur. Why can't you just come with me? I'm not some dangerous animal..." She shot a brief, disdainful glance at Edward before continuing, "Unlike some people here..."

  What she witnessed next left her ego shaken for a very, very long time. So much so that every time she saw a black flying creature, she would be reminded of what had happened—how she, an Arch-Magus, had been outwitted.

  She saw him raise his head and both hands to the sky, as if embracing it.

  Then a voice rang out. Not from anyone there, but from all around her. It was the same distorted voice, echoing in the air. Just one word.

  "Farewell..."

  The figure, shrouded in black, began to unravel before her eyes.

  Its solid form began to dissolve into a dark mist that drifted lazily around it. Slowly, as if defying the laws of nature, black feathers began to sprout from the figure's surface, one after another, until the entire body was cloaked in a sinister plume.

  One.

  Two.

  Three...

  One by one, pairs of crimson eyes appeared on the body, like something sinister was emerging.

  The scene was unnatural, even for her, someone who had seen all kinds of bizarre and unusual things. However, she showed no outward reaction and was determined to uncover the identity of the daring figure behind the mask.

  What gave her confidence was her space magic, having already blocked his location.

  Her confidence was unquestionable, but it was, unfortunately, misplaced.

  Flap!

  To her astonishment, the body, now cloaked in black feathers and with sinister eyes, suddenly exploded into dozens of black ravens.

  Flap, flap, flap, flap.

  She watched as the ravens scattered in all directions, then morphed into a dark mist before dissolving into the air. The entire spectacle unfolded in the blink of an eye, and it took her a moment to collect herself.

  Boom!

  A massive burst of magic erupted from her, surging outward like a tsunami, sending hot rocks and debris flying in all directions, even catching Edward off guard for a brief moment.

  Her power, the sheer momentum alone, would be enough to overwhelm anyone beneath her rank, but to Edward, it was hardly significant.

  In less than a fraction of a second, he conjured a magical barrier to steady himself, mainly to keep the debris from staining his clothes.

  He had figured everything out the moment he saw the feathers form. Annoyed yet impressed, he realized that once again, his pupil had pulled one over on him without him noticing. However, he let things play out, pretending to be surprised, ensuring Maxime wouldn't suspect a thing.

  Maxime maintained her intense magical flow for some time, all while her Magical-Sense swept the area. For an Arch-Magus, searching the entire desert would be effortless, but unfortunately for her, she found nothing.

  In fact, what she had seen in those final moments was nothing but an illusion. The real him had already flown far away, watching from a distance. He had Apparated the moment his illusion had served its purpose, just before she unleashed her momentum.

  The space was once again filled with tense silence, as it was clear the half-giant witch was far from being in a good mood. That was until the other man, who seemed to have already earned her displeasure, decided to make things worse.

  "Well... that was... some strange magic, but impressive, don't you think?" he remarked, a deliberate teasing smile tugging at his lips.

  Maxime shot him a glare, her irritation rising. "Did you do something to me?" she asked, her tone almost paranoid.

  The man immediately raised his hands in mock surrender, as if to claim innocence. "I swear on my magic, I did nothing..."

  Her glare intensified, growing even more heated as she fixed her eyes on his smirking smile.

  After a long, scrutinizing look, she huffed, marking the end of it all. "I'll unmask him... sooner or later..." she added, both to herself and for Edward to hear. As she spoke, a magical construct materialized beneath her feet, lifting her upward.

  But before she could ascend too far, Edward's voice rang out, calling after her. "Wait, woman... you told him you'd fix this place up!"

  Her mood soured even further. "Do it yourself, you annoying lion. Think of it as returning the favor for helping with the barrier... and don't forget to bring that thing's corpse," she shot back, leaving him stunned.

  "No, wait... That wasn't supposed to be a favor, that was your responsibility, you blasted French #%$*^&#... AT LEAST STAY AND HELP!" he screamed after her, putting everything he had into the shout.

  Boom!

  Before he could protest any further, Maxime shot upward like a rocket, disappearing from sight.