Inside the arena, engulfed in crimson-gold flames.
Seeing the gruesome, bloody gash on Asterion's neck, Seleneia let out a sorrowful wail.
The pain in her abdomen returned, far more intense than before.
Unable to endure it, Seleneia sank to her knees, tears blurring her vision as she looked at the helplessly collapsed Asterion.
Silver-white blood mixed with mud continued to pour from the blackened, smoking wound.
Lumen's eyes widened seeing Seleneia's helpless state and Asterion's unmoving body. A clear yet furious cry suddenly rang out, sending waves through the surrounding flames.
Hearing it, Quirrell's lips curled into a smirk. He did not care in the slightest.
"What abundant vitality. When did the magical world acquire such a magical creature?"
What answered him was a dozen crimson-gold dragons, along with even more thin ribbons of flame emerging from the curtain of fire, tearing toward him like spectral serpents.
There was no trace of panic in Quirrell's eyes. He merely waved his wand with effortless elegance, like a masterful conductor.
The air twisted and boiled under the extreme heat.
Crimson-gold flames roared and churned, surging in from every direction.
"Fiendfyre."
Dozens of strands of Fiendfyre, thick and viscous like asphalt, burst from the tip of Quirrell's wand, instantly transforming into gigantic pythons that lunged at the crimson-gold dragons.
Deafening explosions rang out as fire tore into fire, sparks cascading down like a fiery rain.
Several slender fire serpents broke through the clash and shot toward Quirrell.
"Black Vortex Charm."
A swirling, light-devouring vortex like a miniature black hole twisted into existence, forcibly drawing in the onrushing fire serpents.
As the flames neared the edge of the vortex, they gave off piercing shrieks, as if being crushed and erased by an unseen force.
Quirrell continued to counter the flames using raw magic alone, rather than relying on spells like Finite Incantatem or the General Counter-Spell to confront them directly.
That was because he had noticed something deeply strange: despite their terrifying heat, these flames seemed to contain no magic at all.
They were like pure, natural fire, born directly of heaven and earth.
Even so, during a brief lull as he blocked the crimson-gold flames, the cautious Lord Voldemort still cast a Finite Incantatem, aiming it at one relatively small stream of fire.
Yet the size of the flame did not change in the slightest.
"Interesting… very interesting."
With his level of magic and mastery, Lord Voldemort knew that no magical phenomenon should be completely unaffected by Finite Incantatem.
The answer was obvious. The power with which that strange creature controlled fire truly contained no magic at all.
In that fleeting pause, the glowing figure suddenly vanished, the movement incomparably smooth and natural.
In the next instant, it Apparated directly beside Asterion.
Ptooey!
A large glob of crystal-clear saliva splattered onto Asterion's wound.
The twisting, coiling black smoke immediately diminished by more than half, and the smooth gash began to heal at a visible pace.
The bleeding finally stopped.
"Indeed!"
Seeing this, a wave of ecstasy surged through Lord Voldemort's heart.
Just a single mouthful of saliva could suppress the curse of Dark Arts and even heal the wound itself.
That strange creature was truly extraordinary. If only he could obtain it.. Puff!
Quirrell suddenly spat out a mouthful of dark red blood.
"Hmph. What a frail, useless body."
Ignoring the excessive strain on the body, Lord Voldemort continued to squeeze flesh and vitality from it, forcibly converting them into enormous magical power through Dark Arts.
He drove the surging magic recklessly through the body, transforming it into dazzling spells.
Dark lightning, icy crows, flashing flying blades—and Quirrell himself twisted and vanished repeatedly, reappearing in new positions again and again.
This was already deep within the Forbidden Forest.
The Anti-Apparition wards of Hogwarts Castle could no longer reach this far.
In Lord Voldemort's hands, high-level, complex teleportation magic was being used almost as casually as a simple evasive maneuver.
The glowing figure began to grow flustered. Its combat experience was still far too limited.
Even though it normally sparred with its master, when faced with a situation like this.. It still wasn't enough. Nowhere near enough.
The enemy was deliberately, or perhaps inadvertently, closing in on Seleneia, preventing the glowing figure (Lumen) from daring to Apparate while holding Asterion.
It feared that even a momentary lapse would be seized by its opponent.
The light in its glass-like eyes flickered without pause as it tracked the enemy's position.
Boom!
Pure fire erupted endlessly from the glowing figure, spreading into a vast sea of flames.
It guided the flames to envelop both Asterion and Seleneia.
The glowing figure was about to fight with everything it had—
A hollow suddenly appeared within the inferno, with Quirrell standing at its center. Flames surged and crashed around him like violent waves, yet they could not truly draw near.
Several bottles and vials were flung into the air by Quirrell, colorful liquids and crystals scattering as they fell.
"Laceratio."
As the spell left his lips and his wand moved, the blazing air seemed to freeze for an instant.
The Potions fused and converged in the blink of an eye.
More than a hundred multicolored blood blades burst forth.
The glowing figure's eyes widened as it saw the blades streak straight toward—
Seleneia!
Instinctively, the glowing figure prepared to Apparate. But in the corner of its vision, it caught sight of a blurry, nearly transparent figure.
Clang!
"Puff!"
The sharp clang of metal was immediately followed by the sound of a blade sinking into flesh.
The transparent figure revealed its true form—it was Quirrell, clad in a hooded cloak with a ghostly mask covering his face.
Meanwhile, the Quirrell standing at the center of the hollow melted away like a shattered reflection.
Quirrell swiftly withdrew the light-green dagger in his hand, drawing a stream of golden-red blood from the Lumen's waist and abdomen.
Intense pain flashed through the glowing figure's eyes.
Ignoring the two unicorns, one gravely wounded and the other on the brink of death, Quirrell fixed his greedy, feverish gaze on the beads of golden-red blood that contained astonishing vitality.
He had deliberately avoided using Avada Kedavra, the Dark Arts' most lethal offensive spell, because he wanted to capture this magical creature alive.
Only then would he be able to truly return to his peak state.
But as the battle dragged on, Lord Voldemort gradually shifted his strategy.
Quirrell's body could no longer endure it; the fight had to end quickly.
And so, Lord Voldemort's true objective became the creature's body itself.
He reached out to collect the blood, to seize the greatest harvest of the night—
When a searing heat, utterly different in nature, suddenly washed over Quirrell's face.
Driven by intense pain, the glowing figure felt as though it had shattered some unseen shackles, and rich, nearly pure golden flames erupted from its body in all directions.
At the same time, the light in its eyes grew even more dazzling.
Faced with this sudden outburst, Quirrell merely smiled faintly and reached out to seize a drop of blood.
His figure twisted and vanished in an instant.
Apparition would activate faster than the spreading flames.
However, the glass-like light in the glowing figure's eyes blazed sharply.
Quirrell's figure froze in place.
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