After gently brushing back a strand of hair from his forehead, Orsaga calmly continued the question he had posed earlier:
"Let me ask again—I'm planning to recruit some subordinates. Any volunteers?"
Though he could achieve his goals without minions, Orsaga, as a ruler, felt it was only proper to have a fitting entourage.
After all, appearances mattered.
Of course, whether these minions volunteered or were "volunteered" didn't make much difference to him.Still, in a show of democratic spirit, Orsaga preferred to offer the illusion of choice:
Would they choose to become lapdogs, or would they be chosen?
In response to his second inquiry, a particularly irritable Death Eater drew his wand and barked,
"Brat, this isn't a playground. Let me teach you a lesson first!"
"Cruciatus!"
With a loud shout, the Cruciatus Curse—the Unforgivable Curse of Torture—was cast.
Dumbledore instantly cried out,
"Watch out!"
—trying to warn Orsaga to dodge.
But Orsaga, upon glancing at the oncoming spell, couldn't even be bothered to react. He let it hit him directly.
Seeing this, the Death Eater's face lit up with glee.
The Cruciatus Curse, one of the Three Unforgivable Curses, was known to inflict unbearable pain—so intense it could drive its victims mad or kill them outright.
It was the perfect tool for punishment. If only it didn't land its caster in Azkaban under the "tender care" of Dementors.
Among the onlookers, emotions ranged from concern to schadenfreude.
And then—the spell struck Orsaga squarely.
Nothing happened.
He remained completely calm and composed.
It wasn't that the curse had failed or been deflected.
Orsaga simply hadn't bothered to resist it.
Pain was one of the sources of his power. In mastering it, he had trained himself to experience, control, and harness even the most excruciating sensations.
He had relived the feeling of death—not once, but trillions of times.
Compared to that, the pain from the Cruciatus Curse was child's play.
At best, it felt like being flayed alive.
On Orsaga's personal pain scale—where Level 116 was the constant torment his main body endured to master the Authority of Agony—this spell ranked around Level 3.
It was barely a breeze against his skin.
Still, Orsaga wasn't the type to let an attack go unanswered.
Casually, he said,
"Let me give you a taste of Level 5 pain."
He then calmly waved his wand.
Transfiguration Spell.
The spell took effect instantly.
Though the Death Eater's exterior remained unchanged, his internal organs and nervous system began to restructure.
His entire biological architecture was transformed into a form where merely existing was excruciating.
Now, every drop of blood coursing through his veins felt like molten lava.
Each breath seared his lungs as if he were inhaling boiling steam.
With every heartbeat, it felt as though his nerves were being slowly cranked and twisted on a winch.
The Death Eater collapsed to the floor, shrieking in pain.
Then screamed even louder.
Orsaga had altered the composition of his skin as well—making even the lightest touch agonizing.
Using his deep knowledge of human anatomy, Orsaga had calibrated this Level 5 pain package with surgical precision.
It was designed not to kill, not to knock out, but to keep the victim conscious and hyper-aware of every unbearable sensation.
To preserve a shred of dignity, Orsaga had also modified the Death Eater's digestive system, eliminating his ability to soil himself.
Watching his underling writhe and scream on the ground, Voldemort's expression was one of stunned disbelief and fury.
He hadn't even seen Orsaga's casting motion.
That meant—if they were to duel—he might not even have time to react before he was taken down.
Across from him, Dumbledore was struck by the same realization.
His mind was now a storm of speculation.
Orsaga using Mass Apparition at such a young age had already pushed the bounds of what he could rationalize.
But this level of casting speed?
He simply couldn't comprehend it.
And then—there was another troubling detail.
Orsaga had clearly used a Transfiguration Spell. So why had the Death Eater screamed as if he were being tortured?
He turned toward Minerva McGonagall, seated beside him.
As the professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts, McGonagall was also one of the most accomplished Transfiguration Masters in the British wizarding world—an exceptional Animagus, capable of seamlessly switching between human and animal form while retaining full magical ability.
Even Dumbledore, for all his fame, was slightly behind her in the art of Transfiguration.
But now, he noticed that McGonagall's expression was… off.
She looked as if she'd just witnessed a miracle—equal parts awe, shock, and disbelief.
Curious, Dumbledore asked,
"Can you tell what he did?"
"…I can't say exactly," McGonagall replied after a moment's hesitation.
"But I could sense that Orsaga completely restructured the Death Eater's internal body in an instant."
"At this point," she continued, "aside from his outer appearance, that man's body no longer resembles a human."
Dumbledore paused, digesting her words.
"…You mean to say, Orsaga changed his species?"
"In a broad sense—yes," she confirmed.
As a Transfiguration expert and Animagus, McGonagall's understanding of anatomy was without equal. After a brief magical scan of the victim's internal structure, she was certain:
That creature was no longer biologically human.
Hand him over to a Muggle research lab and claim he was an alien in disguise—no one would doubt it.
Thinking further, McGonagall remarked:
"His mastery of Transfiguration may have already surpassed even the records of Merlin preserved in the school archives…"
Dumbledore's expression shifted at the name.
In the British magical world, Merlin was not just legend, but historical truth—the greatest wizard ever recorded.
Shortly after the mutilated Death Eater was dragged away, Voldemort—his expression dark—spoke to Orsaga:
"You'll regret crossing us, boy…"
He didn't finish the sentence.
Instead, he suddenly cast Avada Kedavra—trying to catch Orsaga off guard.
Voldemort was not above such tactics.
He was, after all, a pragmatic man.
Strike down the old and the young, feign weakness to gain advantage—whatever it took to win.
But Orsaga's response was just as casual:
Another Transfiguration Spell.
The earth beneath them shifted.
A stone wolf emerged and intercepted the killing curse, neutralizing it with brute force.
Afterward, Orsaga muttered with some dissatisfaction,
"Looks like I still don't have the aura of a true ruler…"
"Oh well. Since no one seems willing to cooperate…"
"…I guess I'll start by killing half of them."
_____
T/N:
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