A door suddenly appeared.
It stood directly in Ian's path.
There were no keyholes or handles on its surface. In their place were countless twisted and grotesque relief carvings, indescribable lifeforms etched across the door. Some resembled giant serpents intertwined with vines, some looked like distorted masses of flesh covered in eyes, while others were entirely abstract.
They seemed to represent geometric symbols of some primordial concept.
These carvings were not lifeless. They slowly, painfully slowly, writhed and shifted, emitting faint lights and low humming sounds capable of disturbing the mind.
The enormous gate radiated an ancient, savage aura filled with chaos and primordial power, as though it itself were a living, terrifying entity that had merely fallen into slumber.
And before the gate, lurking within the shadows on either side of the passage, crouched several massive figures.
Ian's gaze immediately locked onto them.
These were the "Ancient Spirits" the blind man had spoken of.
Their appearances varied greatly and bore no resemblance to ordinary living creatures.
One of them looked like a constantly swirling tornado composed of sand and bleached bones, with two crimson lights flickering at the center of its vortex.
Another resembled a gigantic, semi-transparent swamp worm. Its body was covered in countless opening and closing suction cups, and within each one a screaming human face seemed to appear and disappear in agony.
A third was the strangest of them all.
It resembled a pool of viscous black sludge with an oily, iridescent sheen. Twisted illusions continuously surfaced across its body, sometimes depicting a bustling metropolis, sometimes a battlefield littered with corpses.
The magical fluctuations they emitted were wild, chaotic, and carried a primordial pressure deeply rooted in the ancient continent itself.
These Ancient Spirits were utterly incompatible with the orderly system of wizard magic. They felt more like Spirits of Nature born from the land itself, only to undergo some unknown corruption and become terrifying manifestations.
The moment Ian stepped into the area, the Ancient Spirits almost simultaneously "awakened."
The Sandstorm Ancient Spirit ceased its rolling movements, its crimson vortex-eyes fixing firmly upon Ian.
The Swamp Worm raised its featureless head. The countless faces inside its suction cups all turned toward him at once, releasing a silent shriek.
Meanwhile, the black sludge began boiling violently. The speed at which the illusions on its surface changed increased dramatically, releasing powerful mental corruption.
A pressure as heavy as a mountain surged toward Ian like a tangible tide, carrying the stench of blood and soul-curses.
It sought to crush him.
To devour him.
To drag his soul into endless madness and chaos.
Standing before the giant gate and facing these terrifying Ancient Spirits born from the deepest legends of Africa's tribes, Ian showed no trace of panic.
Instead, a hint of interest appeared on his face.
"Interesting." He muttered softly.
The aura he had restrained to the utmost limit slowly revealed a sliver of its sharpness, like a divine blade being unsheathed.
Ian stood alone before the giant gate that radiated ominous fluctuations.
His presence was like a sacred weapon drawn from its scabbard, silently confronting the Ancient Spirits whose various forms exuded primordial and chaotic pressure.
An invisible clash of magic and will had already begun.
The air was saturated with tension.
Whispers of soul-curses and mind-distorting force fields permeated the surroundings.
These Ancient Spirits were clearly nothing like the lazily fed Dementors above.
They were truly dangerous guards, filled with aggression and hostility.
Yet there was no fear on Ian's face.
Instead, he wore the focused curiosity of a researcher.
He decided not to simply crush them with his rule-level powers.
That would certainly be the simplest solution, but it might destroy any opportunity to understand the true nature of these Ancient Spirits.
For that reason,
He intended to face these ancient beings of the African continent using a more "traditional" approach.
Specifically, the style of magic honed through Hogwarts' educational system.
"Good timing. I could use some exercise."
With a flick of his wrist, the seemingly plain wand that had accompanied him for many years slid into his palm.
The tip of the wand glowed faintly as he pointed it toward the first Ancient Spirit that could no longer restrain itself, the Sandstorm Ancient Spirit composed of sand and bones.
"Ventus Vortex!"
This was not a simple Gust Charm, but an enhanced whirlwind spell imbued with powerful rotational cutting force.
A solid tornado erupted from the tip of his wand with a piercing howl.
Rather than targeting the Ancient Spirit itself, the spell struck the side of its constantly rotating sandstorm body with precise accuracy.
BOOM!
The Sandstorm Ancient Spirit released a harsh screech, like countless grains of sand grinding against one another.
Its enormous body was momentarily halted by the sudden impact of the powerful whirlwind.
The speed of its rotation became visibly disrupted.
The bleached bones embedded within its form rattled under the cutting wind blades, and several smaller bones were torn free and hurled into the air.
This was Ian.
He insisted on confronting his opponents with powers of the same nature as their own.
The pride of a legendary wizard was displayed to the fullest.
Naturally, the Ancient Spirit had no way of understanding that.
A flash of fury appeared within its crimson vortex-eyes. More sand and fragments of bone materialized from nowhere and merged into its body, causing its size to swell by another circle. With even greater ferocity, it stirred up countless sand blades gleaming with black light and sent them cascading toward Ian like a storm covering the heavens.
Ian moved like lightning, weaving nimbly through the relatively narrow passage.
"Protego!"
A highly condensed shield shimmering with intricate runes instantly appeared before him.
It blocked the majority of the sand blades, producing a dense series of impacts like heavy rain striking banana leaves.
At the same time, Ian swung his wand again.
"Aguamenti!"
"Glacius!"
A thick column of water shot toward the Sandstorm Ancient Spirit.
Its purpose was not to drench the creature. Instead, at the moment it approached, an extremely powerful Freezing Charm transformed the water into countless sharp ice crystals and icicles. Mixed with partially frozen streams of water, they blasted into the sandstorm like a barrage of grapeshot.
The intense cold and physical impact caused the Sandstorm Ancient Spirit's movements to stiffen once more.
Portions of its sand and skeletal remains were frozen and shattered, producing a series of crackling sounds.
"ROOOAAARRR!"
The Ancient Spirit let out an enraged howl.
Twisted, agonized phantom faces began appearing within the storm of sand, releasing soul-piercing wails that sought to disrupt Ian's mind.
"A soul-based attack? Interesting."
Ian raised an eyebrow.
He felt a slight sting against his mind, but it was far from significant.
Steadying his thoughts, he drew a circle with his wand.
"Psychic Barrier!"
An attack of this level did not even require the use of the Patronus Charm.
Confident and composed, Ian remained effortlessly elegant.
A silver radiance resembling the warmth of the morning sun spread outward from his body.
The glow was not particularly intense, yet it carried an unwavering and pure intent to protect.
The moment the agonized phantom faces within the sandstorm touched the silver light, they emitted shrill screams before dissolving like snow beneath sunlight.
Even the Sandstorm Ancient Spirit itself seemed to recoil as though burned, retreating slightly while letting out a wary hiss.
While Ian was occupied dealing with the Sandstorm Ancient Spirit, the semi-transparent Swamp Worm Ancient Spirit made its move.
Its enormous body appeared clumsy, yet it moved with astonishing speed, gliding across the ground like liquid.
Opening the front end of its body, a monstrous maw covered with countless suction cups that seemed capable of devouring anything, it unleashed a tremendous pulling force that instantly enveloped Ian.
At the same time, the silent shrieks emitted by the agonized faces within the suction cups became even denser, forming a tidal wave of psychic shock.
"Impedimenta!"
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Ian's wand flicked repeatedly.
An invisible restraining field attempted to slow the worm's advance, while the Full Body-Bind Curse followed immediately behind.
However, the petrifying light disappeared into the worm's translucent body.
It only caused the slime coating its surface to stiffen for an instant before the dark power surging within its body rapidly dissolved the effect.
Its suction force remained powerful.
The psychic assaults continued unabated.
"High resistance to physical attacks and conventional curses..."
Ian calmly analyzed the situation while using his exceptional agility to resist the pulling force.
Abandoning direct control methods, he shifted to Transfiguration.
"Transform!"
A green, forceful spell struck the ground beside the worm.
The solid stone instantly transformed into a vast area of extremely slippery, highly elastic moss.
Sizzle! Sizzle! Sizzle!
The worm's massive body slid into the transformed terrain.
Its movements immediately became sluggish and awkward, and even its suction force was affected.
The creature twisted angrily, its corrosive slime eating away at the moss, but Ian had already gained the time he needed.
As for the final Ancient Spirit, the most bizarre one, resembling a pool of boiling black sludge, it had not participated in any direct physical attacks.
Yet it was causing Ian the greatest trouble.
The twisted visions constantly shifting across its surface showed magnificent cities collapsing into ruins in an instant.
Loved ones and friends transformed into hideous demons and lunged toward him.
Mountains of wealth and priceless treasures turned into venomous serpents the moment they were within reach.
These illusions were not mere visual deceptions.
They carried powerful mental corruption, relentlessly assaulting Ian's mind.
They sought to draw out the deepest fears, greed, and despair hidden within him and shatter his will to fight.
An ordinary wizard would likely have been defeated by such attacks long ago.
Fortunately, Ian was no ordinary wizard.
"Muffliato! Occlumency!"
Ian first cast a disruptive spell, creating meaningless noise in an attempt to interfere with the transmission of the illusions.
At the same time, he activated his profound Occlumency.
Like an indestructible dam standing amid a raging storm, it firmly blocked the mental corruption from entering his mind.
His eyes remained clear.
His movements never faltered in the slightest.
Throughout the battle, Ian continuously altered his tactics, experimenting with various branches of magic taught within the Hogwarts system.
He tried using Incendio, shaping the flames into a dragon that scorched the Sandstorm Ancient Spirit.
He discovered that the fire could partially purify the negative emotional energy contained within the creature, but it was unable to completely destroy the sand and skeletal remains that formed its physical body.
He cast Diffindo on the Swamp Worm.
The razor-sharp Cutting Curse could only leave shallow wounds on its surface, and those wounds healed almost instantly, proving that its regenerative abilities were exceptionally powerful.
He also tried Finite and various forms of Finite Incantatem on the Black Mire Ghoul, only to discover that they had very little effect on its innate power of mental corruption.
The only option was to resist it through the strength of his own mind.
The battle continued for roughly fifteen minutes.
Ian moved like a swift swallow, weaving through the combined assault of the three powerful Ancient Spirits.
Though the situation appeared perilous, he remained firmly in control the entire time.
It was not that he lacked the ability to defeat them.
If he used his true power, whether by tearing apart space itself or invoking deeper magical laws, he could destroy or seal these Ancient Spirits in a very short time.
But he did not.
His goal was to test them.
To understand them.
After all,
The Ancient Spirits were undoubtedly terrifyingly powerful.
Yet the same old truth remained:
Ian was a Legendary Wizard.
At his current level of existence, very few beings below the rank of gods could truly compete with him.
As the battle continued and magical energies repeatedly collided, Ian's keen senses gradually detected several unusual details.
Whenever the Sandstorm Ancient Spirit was forced back by protective magic infused with pure life force, the emotions it displayed were not solely rage.
There seemed to be an extremely faint tremor within it.
A tremor that almost resembled... relief.
When the Swamp Worm became trapped within the slippery moss created through Transfiguration, the anguished cries from the faces inside its suction cups carried more than hatred.
Hidden within them was a nearly imperceptible fear.
A fear directed toward the very concept of bondage and restraint itself.
As for the Black Mire Ghoul,
Whenever Ian fully activated his Occlumency and displayed an unshakable will, the boiling sludge that formed its body showed more than increasingly frenzied illusions.
For a brief instant, another emotion flickered across its surface.
Something akin to confusion.
And exhaustion.
More importantly, deep within the chaotic, twisted energy cores of these Ancient Spirits, beneath the layers of negative emotions, Ian vaguely sensed something else.
It was extremely faint.
Yet its essence was astonishingly pure.
There was even a trace of peace and harmony with nature.
An inner core.
That core seemed to be tightly wrapped within a thick shell composed of pain, hatred, curses, and some form of external corruption.
Constantly being distorted.
A thought flashed through Ian's mind like lightning.
He suddenly realized something.
These so-called Ancient Spirits...
Perhaps they had not originally been like this at all.
Just as he had suspected before, they were very likely once Spirits of Nature that coexisted with the mountains, rivers, forests, and swamps of this ancient African continent.
They had been magical beings that maintained balance.
Symbols of natural phenomena and regional spirits.
Peaceful existences by nature.
Then some catastrophe must have occurred.
Perhaps an ancient war.
Perhaps dark rituals.
Perhaps contamination from powerful dark magic.
Or perhaps greedy tribes had forcibly bound and twisted their essence in order to achieve certain goals.
It was humanity's influence that had caused their fall and mutation.
Human actions had transformed them into the distorted creatures they were today, beings filled with pain, hatred, and aggression.
Nor was this speculation baseless.
Ian had evidence to support it.
After all,
The Ministry of Magic in this region did not place much importance on breeding or utilizing Dementors.
Perhaps the reason was that they possessed and controlled these Ancient Spirits instead.
Their current violence and chaos felt less like innate malice and more like an endless struggle born from unbearable suffering and the corruption of their very nature.
This discovery greatly diminished the killing intent in Ian's heart.
Looking at the three Ancient Spirits that continued their frenzied attacks, a trace of complicated emotion appeared in his eyes.
"What a pitiful bunch."
They were terrifying.
They were dangerous.
But in a certain sense...
They were also tragic.
"So that's how it is..."
Ian murmured to himself.
The offensive pressure from his wand eased slightly, shifting more toward defense and evasion.
"They aren't inherently evil. They're creations that have been twisted."
"No wonder that blind man said that someone important had been awakened from their slumber..."
"The 'little animal' Newt brought with him probably touched upon something connected to the origins of these Ancient Spirits."
"Or perhaps..."
"It touched the very source of the corruption that twisted them."
Ian realized that simply destroying the Ancient Spirits might not be the best solution.
That would only be a crude treatment of the symptoms rather than the cause.
It might even trigger consequences that were far more unpredictable.
Just as he was considering whether to change his strategy and attempt some other method, perhaps calming or temporarily sealing the Ancient Spirits,
The corner of his eye caught something.
The enormous gate covered in writhing relief carvings seemed to have reacted to the energy fluctuations generated by the battle.
Several of the symbols etched upon its surface flickered briefly.
Almost imperceptibly.
Something behind the gate...
Had been disturbed.
(End of Chapter)
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