If altering memories could make Rivers smarter, Erwin thought it might be worth a try.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, deep in the picturesque countryside, Rivers led the Cavendish family through the forest. A sudden chill ran down his spine.
He whirled around, scanning his surroundings with sharp, wary eyes.
"Have we been discovered? Why this sudden chill?" he muttered.
A Cavendish member stepped closer. "Is something wrong, Lord Rivers?"
Rivers shook his head, dismissing the sensation. "It's nothing. Stay alert—we won't need to hide much longer. Everyone, prepare yourselves. If we jeopardize the Master's plans, there will be consequences."
The Cavendish family members nodded in unison.
"Don't worry, Lord Rivers," one said fiercely. "We've been ready all along. This time, we'll teach those Demos bastards a lesson they won't forget!"
Rivers gazed at the distant Demos Manor, a sinister smile curling his lips.
"Yes. Some debts are long overdue. This time, we'll remind them of the terror they felt when the Cavendish family hunted them down."
Setting aside the preparations in the United States, the situation in the Changbai Mountains was intensifying.
After Krum finished his analysis, he ordered his team to advance toward the center. Though he knew Durmstrang might not match Hogwarts or the British delegation, they had to try. Durmstrang had lost too much face in this tournament—this was their only chance to salvage their honor, and they wouldn't surrender it easily.
And so, with Beauxbatons alone choosing to abstain, the remaining three schools converged on the center position. A climactic battle was slowly taking shape, and the audience waited with bated breath. Wasn't this the spectacle that made the tournament worth attending?
As the sun set and another day quietly ended, night descended, leaving countless spectators in eager anticipation. The audience gradually filtered out of the stands, returning to their tents to prepare dinner. Most assumed the day's events had concluded—the battle they craved likely wouldn't materialize tonight.
But surprises always arrive unexpectedly.
Just as the audience settled in for their evening meal, the battle began in silence. Hogwarts and the British delegation, as everyone anticipated, clashed first.
The moment the two teams encountered each other, there were no pleasantries—only immediate attacks. Sunny Finch and Charlotte both suspected the other side possessed a crucial artifact. Therefore, the instant they met, both commanders ordered an all-out assault.
In the darkness, spell lights and incantations tore ragged holes in the night. Various magical flashes illuminated the forest in wild bursts. At this moment, neither team held back—both fought with everything they had.
In the darkness, the British students avoided reckless close-range combat. After all, the other schools now knew that Britain's physical prowess was extraordinarily formidable. Every school had developed countermeasures. In this environment, Britain couldn't risk direct engagement—if they were outmaneuvered, it would spell disaster. Consequently, both sides maintained distance, exchanging ranged attacks.
Sunny Finch moved with fluid grace across the battlefield. With each step, patterns materialized on the ground—array after array forming in her wake. Though she used no physical materials, Sunny Finch's mastery of array techniques was exceptional. These hastily constructed arrays, while weaker in raw power, were perfectly suited for this type of skirmish due to their rapid deployment.
Array after array sprang into existence beneath Sunny Finch's feet. She began amplifying the power of all British students, making their spells even more potent. But ranged combat was the forte of traditional wizards. Even with the arrays' amplification, Hogwarts showed no fear.
The fundamental differences between Eastern and Western magical traditions were stark: Eastern close-combat superiority versus Western ranged dominance. Of course, this disparity was largely due to Britain's loss of traditional magic—otherwise, their ranged capabilities wouldn't be so limited.
The two sides clashed fiercely in the woods. Both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang noticed—with such a commotion, it was impossible not to.
The Beauxbatons girls had found a comfortable spot, intending to rest peacefully. They'd barely settled down when the sounds of battle jolted them awake. One girl clicked her tongue in amazement.
"Listen to that commotion—what a spectacle!"
"Thank goodness we didn't join in. What kind of spells would create such chaos?"
"Must be Hogwarts and Britain fighting. Durmstrang doesn't have that kind of firepower."
Fleur looked toward the source of the sounds. She felt quite relieved she'd decided not to join the fray. These competitors were simply inhuman. With that level of strength, who could believe they were students?
"Alright, everyone rest up," Fleur said. "However they fight, it's none of our concern. We won't get involved."
The girls nodded, lying back to gaze at the starry sky. Compared to the others, they seemed to be on vacation.
Meanwhile, the Durmstrang students had also halted, listening to the tumult around them. One Durmstrang student swallowed hard.
"Is that... Britain fighting Hogwarts? This is absurd! The noise alone tells us their strength far exceeds ours!"
By now, these athletic students could confirm the vast gap between their abilities. They had to acknowledge that Hogwarts and Britain were drastically more powerful.
Krum frowned. A Durmstrang student asked, "Krum, should we still advance? Their strength is terrifying—we're completely outmatched!"
Krum gritted his teeth. "Yes, but since we already know we can't win directly, we should learn from Beauxbatons. If we can't beat them head-on, we'll use different tactics. What's that saying from the East? Something about the mantis stalking the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind?"
A Durmstrang student ventured, "The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind?"
Krum nodded. "Exactly! For once, we'll be the oriole!"
The wizards watching the screens exchanged bewildered glances. Durmstrang as the oriole? Could they actually pull it off? A collective question mark arose in everyone's mind. Only Durmstrang's own members, looking at Krum, brimmed with confidence.
The battle between Hogwarts and Britain continued. But as the fighting wore on, Charlotte sensed something amiss. If Sunny Finch and her team truly possessed the artifacts, they shouldn't be fighting this way.