Dumbledore hurriedly approached Osiwia. After a brief handshake, he immediately scanned the surroundings and asked, "Osiwia, where is Hoffa?"
Osiwia shook her head and replied, "He already encountered the Half-Blood King at Durmstrang. He told us to come ahead and find you, while he stayed behind to try and eliminate the Half-Blood King on the spot."
Such a risky decision...
Dumbledore felt a vague sense of unease. Though their previous encounter had been brief, he was certain that the Half-Blood King would not have ventured to the Far East unprepared. The thought of Hoffa being alone in such a distant place, surrounded by the unknown, deeply worried him.
At that moment, Vladimir walked down from the black ship's deck, supporting Miranda, who was bound by stone hands. Dumbledore caught sight of Miranda and was momentarily stunned. Pointing at her, he asked, "Osiwia, this is..."
Osiwia glanced at Miranda, whose face was ashen, and said, "She's a witch from the Gorshak family. Hoffa Bach said she's his wife. But I find that hard to believe. Hoffa doesn't seem like someone who would be married. Maybe they secretly pledged themselves to each other, or they're just in a relationship."
She analyzed the situation calmly.
Dumbledore was equally taken aback. However, he had no time to concern himself with whether two of his students had made a secret vow or were romantically involved. He approached Miranda, touching the stone hands binding her, and asked, "What on earth is going on here?"
"The transformation spell on her was also cast by Hoffa," Osiwia said with a wry smile. "I don't fully understand the details, but this spell allows us to monitor Hoffa's condition. Look, the transformation is still stable, which means he's fine. There's no need to worry too much."
As soon as she finished speaking, the sky suddenly darkened. Countless stars appeared above, shocking everyone. They looked up in astonishment.
Above them, a dozen stars aligned, forming an eerie shape resembling a dragon's claw—an extremely ominous sight.
A powerful and overwhelming energy surged past in an instant.
The clouds, along with all the Muggles in them, were completely wiped away, as if they had never existed.
With the arrival of that immense force, several of the stone hands on Miranda's body suddenly lost control and crumbled to the ground.
Seeing the fallen stone hands, Miranda's shoulders trembled, and she wept silently.
Osiwia's expression darkened. She took several deep breaths, widened her eyes, and asked in a steady voice, "Forget about him for now. What about the battlefield? With so many Squib soldiers, how do you plan to handle them?"
"We'll deal with them in groups," Dumbledore murmured as he gazed at the now-clear night sky. "We plan to first take care of the ones attacking from the north. We'll use spells and Memory Charms to erase their memories, transforming them from Squibs into Muggles."
"That's too much trouble," Osiwia said. "They've even brought in tanks and planes. If you ask me, we should just execute them on the spot. They've already betrayed the wizarding world and stand as our complete enemies—there's no need for mercy."
"Osiwia, we have to give them a chance. They were deceived and manipulated in this nightmare. After their memories are wiped, those who are no longer a threat should be protected. The war will end one day. Even after the fiercest battle, there will come a time for rebuilding. If no one is left by then, there will be nothing at all. Giving them a chance is also giving ourselves a chance. People can change."
"I don't see it that way, Albus. Do you think the Half-Blood King will change? Will you change? I don't think so. Do as you wish, and I'll do things my way. If those people pose too great a threat, I won't show mercy."
With that, she led the Durmstrang wizards forward, leaving only Vladimir behind to take care of Miranda.
"Osiwia!" Dumbledore called after her, wanting to say more.
Osiwia shook her head and said, "I came here under Hoffa Bach's orders. He made an Unbreakable Vow right before me. Right now, I believe he is fighting to the death for Durmstrang's survival. If he won't hold back against the Half-Blood King, neither will I."
In the sandy battlefield, thin stone hands slowly emerged from Hoffa's back. They embedded themselves deep into his bones, forming a row along his spine, replacing his shattered vertebrae.
With the aid of the stone hands, he struggled to rise from the ground, his body swaying like a broken puppet. His entire body was filled with fractured bones, and every movement brought unbearable pain. Yet, his face remained expressionless, as if the one suffering such grievous injuries wasn't him at all.
Silby observed Hoffa's cold and composed gaze and gradually sensed something. He narrowed his eyes.
"How calm... acting like this is nothing. Hoffa Bach, what exactly is going on?"
Hoffa remained silent.
Silby extended his hand, his fingers transforming into countless tendrils that pierced Hoffa's broken body. Yet, Hoffa maintained his indifferent demeanor, letting the sharp tendrils churn inside him.
Silby scrutinized Hoffa's face, suspicion flashing in his eyes. He pulled Hoffa closer, gripping his throat, and squinted. "Tell me. Tell me, Hoffa Bach, wielder of time's power—why are you so calm? Have you seen the future?"
Hoffa stared at Silby without even twitching an eyebrow, completely ignoring his question.
Seeing Hoffa's silence, Silby's suspicions grew even stronger.
"You remain silent, not even bothering to argue with me. Have you seen some extraordinary future?" Silby lifted Hoffa high into the air. Under the pale moonlight, the young man's body was covered in battle wounds.
Hoffa still gazed at Silby in silence, refusing to speak.
Realizing that physical pain wouldn't make Hoffa talk, Silby simply snapped his fingers.
Once again, an overwhelming pressure engulfed them. As space twisted and folded, Silby used Apparition to transport them across half the planet. They arrived at the other end of the Asian continent.
Hoffa raised his head and looked around, his body trembling involuntarily.
They stood on a freshly packed dirt road, surrounded by rice paddies and farmland. Black water buffalo strolled slowly through the fields, with farmers dressed in coarse linen sitting on their backs, smoking pipes. At an old dock, boatmen were casting their nets. The scene was vibrant yet peaceful.
The rustic scenery clashed starkly with the two figures who had just appeared, as if they belonged to entirely different worlds. A few passing village women looked at them, whispering among themselves.
"Eh? What's with those two?"
"No idea what they're up to."
"Those costumes look like something from an opera. Maybe they just stepped off the stage."
Hearing the familiar dialect after so long, Hoffa trembled. His once-calm heart felt a sharp pang of pain.
Silby noticed the change in Hoffa's expression and smirked coldly. He pointed at the villagers and threatened, "Hey, Bach. You have Eastern blood. Now, tell me—what is the ending you saw? Otherwise, you know what will happen."
Hoffa looked at the slow-moving oxen in the fields, then at the boatman wearing a straw hat. He sighed and said softly,
"I will die."
Silby was stunned.
After a moment, he raised an eyebrow and cautiously asked, uncertainly, "What about me?"
"You will reach the pinnacle," Hoffa replied.
Sylby stared intently into Hoffa's eyes. Upon seeing them, he gasped—there wasn't a trace of deception in them. The sheer honesty startled him.
Such sincerity left Sylby both shocked and overwhelmed with an almost supreme joy—the joy of knowing fate, the joy of comprehending the universe, the joy of possessing everything. At this moment, the world spun and flowed within his grasp.
"Hahahahahahahahaha—"
"Hahahahahahahahaha—"
"Hahahahahahahahaha—"
Sylby threw back his head and burst into laughter, letting out strange cries between his fits of hysteria:
"Oh-oh! Yoo~
Oh-oh! Yoo~
Oh-oh! Yoo~
Oh-oh!! Yoo~
Yoo~
Yoo~"
As if only through this could he vent the wild ecstasy surging in his heart.
Nearby, a farmer tending his cattle took a drag from his cigarette and looked at Sylby with disgust, muttering under his breath, "Raving lunatic, must be brain-damaged."
But the words of these rural villagers could no longer affect Sylby. Nothing anyone said could affect him anymore.
He laughed and laughed, until the extreme exhilaration gave way to sorrow. Overcome by the bittersweet rush, tears streamed down his face. He looked down at the battered and bruised Hoffa, his voice turning into a furious roar:
"How tragic!"
"How tragic!!"
"How tragic!!!"
"How tragic it is, Hoffa Bach!!!"
"You knew you would die, yet you insisted on fighting me to the bitter end! You knew it was death! What kind of spirit drives you to do this?! What kind of force sustains you?!"
Sylby bellowed.
Hoffa did not answer. He simply gazed silently at Sylby, who stood before him, laughing and crying like a madman.
Sylby stared at Hoffa for a long moment before a flicker of realization appeared in his eyes.
"Ah, I see now, I see... Hogwarts is Hogwarts, isn't it?"
Hoffa remained expressionless.
Sylby started laughing again, but this time, his laughter was twisted and sinister.
"Hoffa Bach, sure, I tricked your wife. Sure, I deceived those Squibs. And sure, you believe that everything I pursue is nothing but an illusion. But one thing is undeniably true."
"And that is—POWER!"
"Power is real. Power can turn my impossible visions into reality. With the ultimate power, I can decide how others live. I can dictate the rules of existence as I see fit."
"In a sense, I never lied to those foolish Squibs. I will create a world without power—because all the power will be in my hands! Absolute power will bring absolute equality! Just like in the dreams we once shared! But now that you're finished, the rest of the journey, I will walk alone!"
"But don't worry. Now that we've come this far, I won't kill you so quickly. I understand what you stand for. I know the source of your strength. And what could be more satisfying than destroying a wizard's spirit?"
He seized Hoffa and—
Once again, the crushing sensation of boundless force returned. In an instant, they had traversed half the globe, arriving high above Hogwarts Castle.
The entire place was engulfed in war, stripped of all its former mystique.
Muggle aircraft roared across the sky, massive tanks rampaged through the Forbidden Forest, machine guns rained bullets on magical creatures, artillery shells crashed against protective barriers, sending meteor-like fragments flying in all directions. Wizards and Squibs slaughtered each other in rivers of blood across the plains, while even dragons, under relentless bombardment, staggered backward.
Sylby hovered in the sky, holding Hoffa aloft, his voice thundering like a storm:
"Look! The sacred land of wizards crumbles in wails of despair!
Look! Your beliefs are powerless before absolute strength!
Look! The dreams of the past turn to dust in the face of absolute reality!!
And all of this, all of this—ALL OF THIS—
Shall become the fireworks that celebrate the birth of ultimate power!
Shall become the background music to my ascension!!!"
Hoffa gazed at the towering castle below and slowly closed his eyes. The fierce night wind whipped through his hair. In a quiet voice, he said, "You've already won. There's nothing I can do."
Sylby no longer wished to waste words on Hoffa. This man was already his past. A defeated opponent, no longer worth his concern. He raised his arm, preparing to hurl Hoffa away.
But just then, a soft voice rang out from behind them.
"Please wait, Mr. Sylby."
The gentle voice spoke.
Sylby turned around and saw a massive, translucent creature floating behind them.
(End of Chapter)
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