At dawn the next morning, as the sky was just beginning to lighten, the main force of the Despicables Alliance had already assembled.
Under the leadership of the overseeing old witch and the other heads, they moved cautiously and warily toward Nurmengard Prison.
As a wizard prison that had already existed for nearly a hundred years and had long been in a half-abandoned state, Nurmengard was, in fact, a tall tower built upon a small hill.
Its entire outer wall was a deep, dense black, and the strange building was covered in moss, grime, and countless prison windows whose iron bars were rusted or broken. The whole thing looked dilapidated and sinister.
However, contrary to what Link had expected, the area around Nurmengard was not a barren wasteland devoid of life. On the contrary, the ground was lush and overgrown with green grass and small shrubs.
This scene of thriving vitality stood in stark contrast to the grim, deathly appearance of Nurmengard itself.
Beckman was clearly not here for the first time.
Returning to this familiar place stirred up his emotions. He carefully scraped away the moss growing on Nurmengard's massive front gate, revealing once again the line of words carved into the stone, Grindelwald's famous motto, "For the Greater Good!"
Tears shimmered in Beckman's eyes.
He waved his hand, showing the words to Link, then looked up, pointing toward the top of the tower where several giant ravens were circling, and said, "That's where Lord Grindelwald lives. Since 1945, he's stayed there, never leaving, even though this prison doesn't have a single guard. He chooses to remain, all because of a wager, a vow. What a noble character!"
Hearing this, Link nodded slightly and gave a respectful wizard's salute toward the top of the tower.
It wasn't that he agreed with Beckman's opinion, Link simply respected the strong, that was all.
Of course, Beckman didn't know that. Seeing Link's gesture, he finally showed a pleased smile, as though his student had proved teachable.
But at that moment, the overseeing old witch beside them sneered.
"Ha! Do you really think Grindelwald is so noble? That he'd willingly imprison himself here? Don't be ridiculous, he's just afraid of death!"
"The only reason we spared his life back then was because Dumbledore begged for it."
"If he ever dares to leave Nurmengard, we'll know immediately, and we'll contact Dumbledore to capture him together!"
"And this time, the only thing waiting for him will be death!"
"Bullshit!"
Beckman's face twisted in rage as he pointed at the old witch, cursing. He felt as if her words had insulted his very faith.
But the old witch wasn't the least bit afraid of Beckman's fury. She gave him a cold, sharp glare, then turned to old Hartmann and said, "We'll see soon enough, won't we?"
"Didn't you always want to find a way to reduce casualties? Then find a way to lure Grindelwald out of Nurmengard. When that happens, you'll know whether I was talking nonsense."
Her words instantly gained support from several others present. After all, no one liked how Beckman was still acting so reverent toward Grindelwald, even now at the final hour.
Especially old Hartmann, his eyes spun rapidly, clearly intrigued by the witch's proposal.
Meanwhile, Beckman, who had been fuming moments ago, suddenly calmed down. He swept his expressionless eyes across the group and said flatly,
"Stop wasting time. Let's begin."
"Yes, yes, let's start quickly! The International Confederation of Wizards' memorial celebration begins this afternoon, if we don't hurry, we'll miss it!"
One of the Kugel sisters said anxiously.
Madam Schwartz and old Mr. Kugel both nodded in agreement, casting inquiring looks toward the overseeing witch.
Although they were only the diplomatic members of this mission and wouldn't be entering Nurmengard to fight, being in this place, one that held such special significance for these "Despicables", made them feel deeply uneasy. They just wanted to get it over with and leave as soon as possible.
After receiving a nod from the old witch, they rejoiced, gathered at the gates of Nurmengard, and began loudly calling toward the top cell of the tower where Grindelwald was imprisoned.
Everyone present knew perfectly well this was just a symbolic gesture, a hollow excuse meant to make their mission look righteous. It had no real meaning.
Grindelwald would never answer their calls. If he would, he wouldn't have abandoned his Saints back then.
So the Kugels performed the task half-heartedly, reciting at top speed some formal words they'd probably copied from somewhere. When they received no reply, they shrugged toward Lange and the overseeing witch, signaling that their part was done.
Old Hartmann took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and began ordering his troops to enter Nurmengard Prison.
Just as he himself was about to follow them in, Lange grabbed him by the arm.
"Beckman, you go first," Lange said coldly, wand in hand. "You lead."
Beckman's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"Why?" Lange sneered. "After the way you've been drooling over Grindelwald just now, you think I'd trust you behind us? What if you decide to stab us in the back?"
At that, the others' eyes toward Beckman changed, from distant to wary. Lange's words had finally made them realize something, Beckman's joining this mission was suspicious in itself. Maybe he was secretly planning to rescue his old master.
Beckman saw their faces but didn't bother arguing. He just let out a cold laugh and led the old soldiers from Beckman Castle into Nurmengard.
Like Link, he had no interest in bickering with the soon-to-be dead, especially such fools. His motives were obvious, and yet they'd only just figured it out, and even then, they'd guessed wrong.
Because the real key player in today's operation wasn't him at all, but that seemingly harmless spectator, Link.
Seeing how compliant Beckman was, Lange and the others relaxed slightly. They exchanged glances, then followed him into the prison together.
BOOM!
With a thunderous bang, Nurmengard's heavy stone gates slammed shut again, and the ravens circling its top scattered into the sky in alarm.
The Kugel sisters clutched their chests, trying to calm their nerves. They weren't the only ones, the others who hadn't entered were equally tense. Only now did they finally let out a breath of relief.
But after a brief moment of release, their attention quickly shifted back to Link.
The Flamel family had been rising rapidly in recent years, now one of the top noble houses in all of Europe. Who wouldn't want to befriend its sole heir?
The Kugel sisters, who had already shown interest in Link before, were the fastest to act. One on each side, they hurried to his arms, smiling sweetly.
"Mr. Flamel," one of them said, "would you like to come with us to the International Confederation's memorial banquet later? I told my friends we'd met you once before, and they were so jealous! Everyone wants to meet such a talented young man like you."
"Yes, Mr. Flamel," the other chimed in. "Even though it's called a memorial, it's really just a celebration for us. Come with us, won't you?"
This time, the sisters were dressed differently than when they'd met before. Gone were their flamboyant outfits, now they wore modest black gowns and veiled, round felt hats that covered their faces in a soft haze, giving them the appearance of proper noble ladies.
But of course, such vixens wouldn't truly dress modestly.
Yes, they wore veils, but their lipstick was an unnaturally vivid, bloody red. Through the gauzy black veil, their lips seemed half-hidden, half-revealed, exuding a strange allure.
And their gowns? The necklines had been altered, lowered just enough to show a teasing hint of skin.
At first glance, it seemed nothing, but from Link's angle, the view was... distracting.
Link didn't reply right away, and perhaps because he hadn't rejected them outright this time, the sisters grew bolder. They each took hold of one of his arms, voices turning soft and coy.
"Sl*ts!"
Young Hartmann spat disdainfully.
He hadn't been allowed to enter Nurmengard because his injuries from last time hadn't fully healed. But old Kugel and Madam Schwartz didn't even glance at him.
The former had seen such scenes too many times to care; as for the latter, he'd long made a living off his two daughters' charms, and far from being offended, he looked pleased.
Meanwhile, feeling the softness on both arms, Link's lips curved into a faint smile.
"Thank you, ladies, for your kind invitation," he said pleasantly. "But I'm afraid Mr. Beckman and I also have a celebration of our own later, so we won't be able to join you."
"You're having a celebration too?" The sisters blinked in surprise, then quickly smiled again.
"That's fine! We can go to your celebration instead. It's all the same to us."
"Yes, my sister's right," said the younger one, feigning bashful charm. "We just want to be with you. As long as you're there, it doesn't matter where we go."
Link's smile widened.
"I was planning to invite you anyway," he said softly.
"And not just you two, everyone here. Even Mr. Lange and Mr. Hartmann, who've gone inside Nurmengard, I'll take them along as well.
Just that…" He paused, his tone almost playful. "It'll be as war trophies."
The Kugel sisters' delighted smiles froze at once.
Their eyes widened. They looked down, and saw it.
A formless blade of cursed magic, faintly stained red with their own blood, had already pierced their chests.
The sisters were still in sync, even now. The sudden, searing pain made them both raise trembling fingers toward Link, mouths opening slightly as if to ask why.
But before they could utter a word, the invisible blades in their chests began to twist violently under Link's control.
Shhhhk!
The blades blossomed like flowers inside their bodies, and in an instant, countless sharp edges burst outward from within. Their lives were snuffed out, and their proud beauty was utterly destroyed.
The black magic dissipated, flowing back into Link like smoke.
The Kugel sisters' bodies, now full of holes, collapsed limply onto the grass like broken dolls. Hot blood gushed out, splashing over the surrounding grass, and even toward Link, as if the two sisters were trying to stain his clothes in one last act of defiance.
But blood, too, was a liquid.
And before a wizard who could control water, not a single drop reached him, it was all flung harmlessly away by an invisible force.
"Ah! My daughters!"
Only now did old Kugel react. He screamed in agony, whether from grief over his daughters' deaths, or despair over losing his two "money trees," no one could tell.
If this had been before, young Hartmann would've laughed, mocked him, maybe even joked crudely about his relationship with his own daughters.
But now, he couldn't laugh at all.
The scene before him was too terrifying.
Two women he'd known for years, whom he might have looked down on but still found familiar, slaughtered in an instant, in such a cruel way.
And the one who killed them, Link, still wore that calm, faint smile.
That devil's smile.
Remembering how Link had injured him the last time they met, young Hartmann felt his heart seize in terror.
Without a moment's hesitation, the famously bold and reckless Hartmann heir turned and ran screaming toward the camp.
Meanwhile, the old Kugel, despised by nearly every pure-blood family in Germany, a man who'd survived only by selling off his daughters, raised his wand. Eyes blood-red, he charged straight at Link in a desperate rage.
"I'll kill you! Avada Kedavra!"
With a furious roar, a flash of sickly green light shot out.
Link merely shook his head. With a casual flick of his wand, not even bothering to say an incantation, a streak of black flame burst forth.
The flames grew in the wind, twisting into a massive fiery serpent over three meters long. It lunged forward, swallowing the Killing Curse whole.
Then, as if still unsatisfied, it slammed into old Kugel, coiling tightly around him and burning him to ash in an instant.
The poor man didn't even have time to scream.
When it was done, the fire serpent slithered back to Link's feet, coiled up neatly, and began to purr softly, almost like a cat.
What was most astonishing was that, apart from Kugel's remains, not a single thing around had been burned. Not a pebble scorched, not a blade of grass singed.
That was the perfection of Link's control.
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