Three years had passed since that fateful meeting in Slytherin Mana. Three years of careful manipulation, tireless study, and unrelenting conquest.
Now, I stood at the pinnacle of existence.
The mortal world bent beneath my rule, every nation save one already woven into my web of influence. Even the muggle world—once chaotic, unpredictable, untamable—now sang to my rhythm. My name was spoken in reverence, carved into monuments, whispered as prophecy. To the world, I was not a tyrant. I was the savior who unified them all.
And yet, I knew better.
Alchemy had become my language of creation; potions, my second nature. In the solitude of the Chamber of Secrets, I had broken the limits of both fields, earning the titles of Master Alchemist and Grandmaster Brewer. My mind was sharper than ever, the divine fragments of Death's consciousness slowly unfolding within me.
I had seen fragments of his eternity—souls drifting like dust through the afterlife, rivers of light and shadow merging into one endless cycle. So far, the memories revealed nothing of his origin, only the weight of his solitude. Still, even that had value. Knowledge was power, and patience, a greater weapon than any spell.
Tomorrow, the world would kneel.
Every nation—Britain, France, Germany, Japan, China, Australia, and dozens more—would sign the Pact of Unification, binding themselves to my rule. They would call me King of the World, though titles no longer mattered to me. What mattered was control.
I stood before a tall mirror, dressed for the coming ceremony. A black and gold robe clung to my frame, embroidered with runes that shimmered faintly under candlelight. My wand—no, the Elder Wand—rested in my hand like a living extension of my will. On my finger, the Resurrection Ring gleamed darkly, while the Invisibility Cloak shimmered faintly across my shoulders, almost invisible even to my eyes.
A faint smile touched my lips.Power. Knowledge. Immortality. I had achieved all three.
And yet, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was merely the beginning.
Across the ocean, in the last bastion of rebellion, America, the remnants of resistance stirred. Wizards, witches, and muggles who still dared to call me villain. They gathered beneath their illusions of freedom, planning, waiting.
Let them.
Tomorrow, I would be crowned before the world.And then, I would turn my gaze westward—toward the final empire that dared defy me