touchnovel Chapter 571-580: The Prelude to the Deep Space Descent 9
Chapter 571-580: The Prelude to the Deep Space Descent 9
Chapter 571-580: The Prelude to the Deep Space Descent 9
Click.
The image freezes.
Dumbledore, clutching a huge roasted wolf leg, his mouth dripping with oil, was arguing with Grindelwald about which piece of meat tasted better. Grindelwald, on the other hand, proudly held up a skewer of roasted snake meat.
As if showing off their spoils, two legendary wizards, in a primeval forest ten thousand years ago, ate with gusto, their mouths glistening with oil, like two children on a picnic.
This may also be a reconciliation.
"Not bad, not bad." Ian put away the device and nodded in satisfaction. These photos will definitely be treasured once we return to the correct timeline.
After eating and drinking their fill, the three lay by the campfire, gazing at the increasingly dark sky.
In the distance, the silent volcano began to emit a low rumble. The ground trembled faintly, as if something enormous was awakening.
Grindelwald suddenly sat up, gazing at the forest about to be destroyed, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming with eager anticipation: "Since there's still time, why not—go and practice?"
Deng Xilido looked at him: "Practice?"
Grindelwald nodded. "Having just ascended to Legendary status, I haven't fully adapted to my newfound power. Perfect timing, here's a bunch of targets—those ancient creatures—the best sparring partners."
He stood up and stretched his limbs: "Besides, they'll all die in three hours anyway, so I might as well make the most of them."
Dumbledore frowned. "Gellert, this is not right. Those creatures are destined to die, but letting them die in a volcanic eruption is different from letting them die by your wand. We cannot actively take their lives."
Grindelwald turned around and looked at him, a hint of disdain flashing in his heterochromatic eyes: "Albus, your kindness is meaningless at this time."
He pointed to the distant forest, his voice rising with fervor: "There are thousands upon thousands of creatures there. In three hours, they will be burned alive by lava, suffocated by volcanic ash, and shaken to death by the shockwave. It will be a long and agonizing death. But I—" he patted his chest, "can kill them instantly, without pain. Isn't that an act of mercy?"
Dumbledore stood up, meeting his gaze, his azure eyes gleaming with unwavering resolve: "Whether we show mercy or not is not up to us. We have no right to choose how they die, much less the right to take their lives for our own 'practice'."
Grindelwald sneered, "So you're just going to watch them get burned alive by the volcano?"
"That was natural selection," Dumbledore said. "Not ours."
The two stared at each other, an invisible pressure filling the air. The pressure was so strong that even the surrounding campfire seemed to stunt.
Ian sat to the side, watching the scene with great interest. He had somehow pulled out that small device again, pointed the camera at the two of them, and started snapping photos incessantly.
"Keep arguing, keep arguing," he muttered under his breath. "This scene is too precious to miss; it must be recorded."
Dumbledore and Grindelwald both turned to look at him.
Ian showed no fear, instead laughing even more heartily: "Never mind me, you guys carry on. I'm waiting to see two legends fight."
He raised the small device, aimed it at the two men, and shouted excitedly, "Let's fight! Let's fight! Let's fight!"
The childish voice echoed through the forest, filled with the excitement of watching a spectacle unfold.
Dumbledore:
"————"
Grindelwald:
The two looked at each other and saw the same thing in each other's eyes, and were speechless.
There was also a hint of—awkwardness.
They almost got into a fight just now. But after being instigated by a twelve-year-old child, that bit of fighting spirit vanished instantly.
Grindelwald snorted and sat back down by the campfire. Dumbledore also sat down, picked up a cup of tea that he had somehow obtained, and took a small sip.
Disappointed, Ian packed up the device and sighed, "Not fighting anymore? I wanted to see what a legendary fight was like."
Grindelwald glanced at him, a dangerous glint in his heterochromatic eyes: "Want to see us fight?" Ian nodded, looking innocent: "Yeah, it'll definitely be exciting."
Grindelwald's lips curled into a meaningful smile. He looked at Dumbledore, and Dumbledore looked back at him.
Then-
The two turned their heads at the same time and stared at Ian.
Those two gazes, as if they were tangible, fell upon Ian. One was a deep, gentle blue, like the ocean; the other, an unfathomable abyss, sharp and dangerous. But at this moment, they carried the same meaning: "You want to see a fight?"
Ian's smile froze on his face.
He suddenly had a bad feeling.
"You two—" he began with difficulty, his voice trembling, "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Grindelwald stood up and stretched his wrists. Dumbledore also put down his teacup and slowly stood up.
The two walked toward Ian, one on the left and one on the right.
Ian's pupils contracted slightly. He instinctively took a step back, but there was a giant tree behind him, leaving him nowhere to retreat.
"What—what do you want?" His voice trembled. "I'm a twelve-year-old child!"
You can't bully children!
Grindelwald sneered: "A twelve-year-old? A twelve-year-old can outsmart the two of us? A twelve-year-old can use our dragon blood to cook spicy blood curd? A twelve-year-old can be taking pictures so happily?"
Dumbledore smiled slightly, a smile so gentle it sent chills down one's spine: "Ian, didn't you want to see a fight? We'll fight with you."
Ian's expression changed. He turned abruptly, wanting to run away—
But a hand grabbed his collar from behind.
Grindelwald's voice rang in his ears, tinged with a hint of mockery: "Why are you running? Didn't you want to see a fight? Come on, we'll fight with you."
Ian struggled, but Grindelwald's hand remained firmly planted like an iron clamp. Looking at Dumbledore's gentle smile and then at Grindelwald's dangerous eyes, he finally realized he had gone too far.
"I was wrong!" he readily admitted. "I shouldn't have taken pictures! I shouldn't have caused trouble! Professors, please forgive me!"
Grindelwald sneered, "Too late."
Dumbledore smiled: "It's too late to admit your mistake now."
Grindelwald strode toward Ian, while Dumbledore approached slowly from the other side, both men's eyes gleaming with a dangerous, eager light.
Ian's smile froze on his face.
He instinctively took a step back, but behind him was the giant tree, leaving him nowhere to retreat. He looked at the two legendary wizards approaching, his voice trembling: "You—what do you want? I'm a twelve-year-old child! You can't bully a child!" Ian swung his child card again.
It still didn't work.
Grindelwald sneered, his smile full of mischief: "A twelve-year-old? A twelve-year-old can use my Fiery Blaze more skillfully than I can? A twelve-year-old can outmaneuver both of us? A twelve-year-old can be taking pictures so happily?"
Dumbledore smiled slightly, a smile so gentle it sent chills down one's spine. His azure eyes gleamed with a benevolent—no, a dangerous light: "Ian, didn't you want to see a fight? We'll fight with you. Perfect timing, we also want to test the power of a legend, and we need a—suitable opponent."
Ian's pupils contracted slightly. He finally realized that while it might feel good to stir up trouble, it was a different story when the trouble turned on him.
"I was wrong!" he readily admitted defeat, clasping his hands together and putting on a pitiful expression. "Professors, please forgive me! I shouldn't have taken pictures! I shouldn't have stirred up trouble! I'll never do it again!"
Grindelwald raised an eyebrow: "Too late."
Dumbledore smiled: "It's too late to admit your mistake now."
The two men flanked Ian, one on each side. The scene—one or two legendary wizards over a hundred years old surrounding a twelve-year-old child—looked exactly like a case of school bullying.
However, just as Grindelwald's hand was about to touch him...
Ian suddenly opened his eyes.
In those deep eyes, all fear, panic, and pleas vanished. In their place, a light, almost insane, shone that seemed completely out of place with his age.
His lips slowly curled upwards, revealing a ferocious, dangerous, and chilling smile.
Are you sure?
That voice was no longer that of the child begging for mercy, but rather—something deeper, something more ancient.
An even more terrifying existence.
Grindelwald's hand froze in mid-air.
Dumbledore's smile froze slightly. Ian slowly straightened up. Although he was still the same twelve-year-old child, and his height only reached their chests, the aura emanating from him sent a chill down the spines of both newly promoted legendary wizards.
"It was your request, you made me fight with you." His voice was low and slow, with a hint of indescribable pleasure. "Don't blame me."
He raised his hand and waved it gently.
An invisible force surged from his palm, pushing Grindelwald and Dumbledore several meters away simultaneously. The force was gentle yet irresistible, as if declaring who the true master was here.
Grindelwald steadied himself, a hint of shock flashing in his heterochromatic eyes, which was then replaced by an even more intense fighting spirit.
Dumbledore's expression also became serious, but beneath that seriousness burned a light of eager anticipation.
Ian walked to the center of the open space, took out the small device from his pocket, carefully placed it on a rock, adjusted the angle, and aimed it at the three people's location.
"alright."
He clapped his hands, turned to the two men, and his youthful face now displayed the composure and confidence of a true strongman. "Since we're going to fight, we need to make a record. Are you two ready?"
Grindelwald looked at him, a slight smile playing on his lips. In that smile were provocation, expectation, and a hint of respect—a respect he himself didn't even realize: "Ian, don't let us defeat you. Otherwise, this camera will be recording your own embarrassing history." Grindelwald said.
Ian tilted his head, a gesture that, combined with his current appearance, made him look like an innocent child. But his answer made the two legendary wizards hold their breath simultaneously.
"I have never lost."
His voice was calm, yet carried an unquestionable, almost absolute confidence: "Not now."
"Never again."
He paused, a serious glint in his deep eyes: "I am—the Invincible West."
Well, it didn't last long before Ian's true nature was revealed.
Grindelwald paused for a moment, then burst into laughter. The laughter echoed through the forest, startling countless ancient creatures dwelling in the treetops.
"The West is invincible? Fine! Fine! I'll see how you manage to be invincible!"
Dumbledore smiled too. In that smile were relief, expectation, and a complex emotion that only he himself understood: "Then let's begin."
The words had barely left his mouth—
Grindelwald has made his move!
He didn't approach, but instead raised his wand directly—the wand he had taken from the Death Eaters and which was now completely subservient to him.
A deep, abyss-like black light burst forth from the tip of the staff, and a thick torrent of fierce fire roared forth.
That fierce flame was no ordinary fire; it was a terrifying existence condensed to its extreme, capable of incinerating space itself! It transformed into a gigantic black dragon, opening its maw wide enough to devour everything, and lunged at Ian! Wherever it passed, the air twisted wildly, leaving a scorched trench in the ground!
Ian stood still, without even raising his hand.
He simply watched the roaring black dragon approach, a slight smile playing on his lips.
Just as the black dragon was about to touch him, he uttered a single word.
"Disperse."
It seemed like an inviolable iron law.
next moment.
The enormous black dragon, capable of destroying everything, instantly disintegrated!
Countless black fire serpents scattered and flew, landing on the ground and burning deep, bottomless pits into the rocks, but none of them could get close to Ian!
Grindelwald's pupils contracted slightly.
But he didn't stop.
If the first strike misses, the second strike will follow immediately!
He waved his wand repeatedly, and streaks of Fiendfire transformed into various forms—a dragon, a phoenix, a giant wolf, a venomous snake—rushing madly towards Ian from different angles and directions! That was Grindelwald's Fiendfire magic, honed over half a century; each strike was enough to obliterate any being below the legendary level!
Ian remained standing in the same spot.
He didn't even move.
The roaring fiery creatures that charged at him stopped simultaneously a foot away from his body. They weren't blocked, nor were they bounced off; they simply stopped.
They hovered in mid-air, struggling frantically, but unable to move forward even an inch.
Ian raised his hand and tapped it gently.
The fiery creatures instantly changed direction like obedient pets and pounced on Grindelwald at an even faster speed than when they came!
Grindelwald's expression changed, and he held his wand horizontally in front of him, instantly unleashing a pitch-black barrier! The fiends crashed into the barrier, unleashing a deafening roar, and the shockwaves ripped layers of rock from the surrounding ground!
When the smoke cleared, Grindelwald knelt on one knee, panting heavily, his heterochromatic eyes filled with disbelief.
"How...how is this possible?"
Ian looked at him, a slight smile playing on his lips. There was no smugness, no mockery in that smile, only a calm acceptance: "Professor Grindelwald, your Fiendfire is indeed powerful. But you've forgotten one thing—"
"6
He raised his hand and gently beckoned. The scattered black flames instantly surged into his palm like obedient pets, coalescing into a fist-sized object.
A fireball shimmering with an eerie light.
"I learned the Fiery Blaze from you, so I know you inside and out." He gently squeezed, and the fireball vanished instantly, as if it had never existed.
Grindelwald remained silent.
Just then, a golden light struck from the side!
Dumbledore has made his move!
Instead of launching a series of attacks like Grindelwald, he chose a complex spell that had been honed through countless trials and tribulations, embodying all the skills he had learned in his life.
The Elder Wand traced a graceful arc in his hand, its tip bursting forth with dazzling golden light that condensed into countless complex, rotating runes in mid-air.