The Necronomicon, its black cover oozing blood, slipped from Ethan's embrace and soared into the air.
Its pages flipped with a rustle, halting at a pristine new chapter!
[Soul Cauldron Ritual: This is an evil ritual that burns the lives of others to replenish one's own.]
[Method: Throw the sacrifice into a boiling cauldron and chant the incantation.]
[Effect: If successful, one will gain an almost inexhaustible source of magic.]
Endless magic?
Ethan's breath caught in his throat.
A fierce craving ignited in his chest!
Painting magic was formidable, but the power it demanded dwarfed ordinary spells.
After reaching Tier 3, his reserves felt woefully inadequate!
If not for his "Connoisseur" trait, which had rebuilt his body from the core outward...
Any typical wizard would have been drained dry the moment the starlight canvas revealed even a flicker!
Ethan: "But if I pull off this Soul Cauldron Ritual… I'll have magic without end!"
Necronomicon, you never disappoint with the goodies!
He dove back in, eyes scanning hungrily.
[Ritual Conditions:]
[① "Mr. Lamp" brightness reaches "Bright"; current brightness: Dawn.]
[② Complete extraordinary tool: The Damaged Labyrinth of Lost Paths (needs to be repaired first!).]
[③ Tier 3 · Purple Epic Painting × 1.]
[④ Extraordinary fuel: A potent evil soul is the best choice.]
The requirements unfurled like a daunting scroll, making Ethan's vision blur for a second.
"As you'd expect from a ritual that fixes my magic woes in one go—it's a nightmare to set up... Mr. Lamp's brightness is all about fame, right?
With my double life as Mr. Lamp and the Triwizard Tournament's mastermind, that one's in the bag." Repairing the Labyrinth of Lost Paths and crafting a Tier 3 Purple Epic Painting?
Ethan mused: "Both boil down to the same thing. Extraordinary materials."
"Hmm... any hidden troves out there with the goods?"
"The Ministry of Magic owes me a little shearing, anyway."
And finally.
The sacrifice.
The moment "potent evil soul" jumped out.
Ethan's mind locked on the perfect volunteer: none other than Lord Voldemort himself!
Ethan: "Talk about serendipity—his big 'resurrection ritual' calls for a massive cauldron too, and he's the star ingredient getting dumped in... It's like it was scripted for me!"
He could sabotage it at the eleventh hour!
Hijack Voldemort's comeback and turn it into Ethan's personal power-up party!
Stew the old snake to perfection!
"Heh heh heh~ Oh, Tommy boy, the look on your face when the penny drops? Priceless. Gotta be a riot."
Ethan's grin twisted into something deliciously wicked, the kind that made knees knock and chuckles stick in throats.
But then he paused, tilting his head like a puzzled puppy.
By the time Voldy clocks the betrayal, he'll be bubbling away in the broth.
No facial fireworks for me. Aw, shucks—what a waste of a punchline.
Ethan shrugged it off with a theatrical sigh, tucking the Necronomicon away like a kid hiding candy.
He peered down at the glowing camp below and whispered dramatically:
"Alrighty, time to wrap this debut... Curtain call on the grand finale!"
"To the camp—charge!"
[…]
The colossal, trailing tail undulated lazily, rippling with the aurora's midnight hues.
Its skull swiveled, those nightmarish pincers glinting as they fixed on the blazing encampment.
Inside the camp.
Wizards gawked in frozen horror at the skeletal visage staring them down.
It hung like a fever-dream mirage, etched across the heavens.
This defied every shred of sanity, flooding their veins with primal dread!
"Is... is this the apocalypse...?"
"Merlin's beard! Don't just stand there—do something?!"
"Waaah, I finally cleared my Gringotts loan..." Sirius Black wrestled the last unconscious Death Eater into ropes, knotting them with grim efficiency.
He glanced skyward, face etched in stone as the behemoth descended.
Maybe Azkaban wasn't so bad after all.
Hermione Granger slumped to the earth, spent, her eyes mirroring the creeping kaleidoscope.
She sobbed: "Waaah... Ethan, where are you...?"
Even Ron Weasley and Harry Potter had called a truce in the chaos.
The two slung arms over shoulders like old war buddies.
Luna Lovegood tilted her head back too.
She gazed at the looming titan, entranced.
Her pale blue eyes shimmered.
After an eternity, she breathed: "...So beautiful."
"See its form? Planets in orbit, and those sapphire eyes nestled in the bone... Oh, it's exquisite."
A flush bloomed on Luna's cheeks, her breath quickening, heart thundering like a Snitch in flight.
It left her delightfully woozy.
She extended a hand, yearning to caress the ethereal vision.
And obediently, a thread of iridescence coiled around her delicate, onion-slim fingers.
Luna's lips curved in a dreamy smile:
"I'm so glad I met Ethan..."
First came the wails, then a suffocating hush.
Apparition was locked; legs turned to lead.
They could only wait, hollow-eyed, for oblivion.
Ludo Bagman, Head of Magical Games and Sports, shook like a leaf in a gale, teetering on blackout.
Wasn't this supposed to be peacetime?
What in Merlin's name was this abomination crashing the party?!!
His mind flashed to Ethan's tournament pitch.
Only now did it click—the kid was a prophet.
—If the wizarding world ever faced something like this...
Ethan's brutal events weren't overkill; they were prep school.
Beyond the camp's edge.
Connie Fudge stood amid the sprawled Death Eaters, legs barely holding.
She squeezed her eyes shut in defeat.
A silent plea: Gods, if you're listening—
Save us. The very next heartbeat.
"Chirp!!!"
A piercing cry shattered the night!
Connie's eyes flew open.
What burned into her memory forever:
A golden rift sliced through the iridescent veil!
Like a lance piercing shadow, a massive phoenix burst forth on radiant wings, slamming into the horror!
"Boom—!"
The blast wave roared outward.
Like the Big Bang's echo, star-diamonds rained, and a tidal surge of air hammered the ground.
It whipped Connie's bound black hair wild, robes snapping, dust stinging her shut eyes.
Wh-what just happened?!
She forced them open, squinting.
Before clarity hit, her pulse raced ahead.
A lone figure materialized in the camp.
Atop a makeshift dais of piled tents.
Ebony hair whipping, wand aloft, golden aura blazing.
Facing the monster—and its puppet master—head-on!
—Ethan Vincent!!
In that instant.
Connie's throat tightened.
She dropped to her knees, joyful tears carving tracks down her face!
"I knew it! Ethan Vincent, the wizarding world's hero, would swoop in to save the day!!"
She wasn't alone.
Right then.
Ethan blazed in every wide-eyed stare!
"Ethan! Ethan's here!!"
Hermione shrieked in glee, tension melting as she buried her face in her hands, sobbing relief.
Harry gaped at the advancing silhouette.
The final sliver of suspicion evaporated.
...Yeah, Ethan wasn't the attacker.
He'd been paranoid.
After all, the real deal had just shown up.
--
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