Two beams of conflicting magical energy slammed into each other, sending arcs of stray lightning scattering across the room.
Crack! Zap!
The bolts of magic ran wild through the Pope's bedroom, reducing furniture to splinters and blasting craters into the walls.
The room was a disaster zone, filled with swirling dust and debris.
Rey had taken the initiative, and his ink-green Killing Curse initially dominated the clash. The Pope barely managed to hold back the dark lightning, keeping it less than a meter from his chest.
As the energies locked together, the struggle intensified. Yet, the point where the two spells met remained frozen in mid-air.
Rey poured more power into his wand, but no matter how much magic he channeled, the connection point didn't budge. In fact, he could feel his spell slowly being pushed back.
The old man was far more injured than Rey. He had originally planned to wait until his wounds fully healed before dealing with this arrogant boy.
But the boy clearly wasn't going to give him that chance. Caught off guard, the Pope had nearly failed to block Rey's sudden attack.
Every move this kid made was designed to be unpredictable. Fortunately, the Pope had weathered the storm. Now, it was his turn to counterattack.
---
Thunderous booms echoed from the Pope's bedroom. Outside, the guards exchanged nervous glances. They listened for a moment longer, then resumed their stoic posture.
The Pope was powerful; to the guards, this was an unquestionable fact. Furthermore, aside from the Red-Robed Cardinals, no one knew about the Pope's period of weakness after a blessing.
Without a direct order, no one was allowed to enter the bedroom—especially after those specific black crates had been delivered.
This was a lesson learned through the blood of their predecessors.
Enter now, and you die. That was the unspoken rule among the guards.
Bang!
A massive crash shook the heavy wooden doors violently.
It sounded like a body had been hurled against them from the inside.
The guards looked at each other again. This commotion was getting out of hand. The two head guards nodded at each other and pushed the doors open in unison.
However, before the doors were fully open—before they could even see inside—the Pope's furious roar blasted out:
"GET OUT!"
The voice was deafening, shaking them to their cores.
The guards froze instantly, terror gripping their hearts as they scrambled backward.
When the Pope was this angry, a second of hesitation could mean death.
But they were still too slow.
Along with the shout came a shockwave of pure magical force. It slammed into the two guards at the front. Despite their heavy armor, they were launched like ragdolls, flying backward out of the room and smashing into the corridor wall opposite.
Crunch.
The impact was brutal. The guards slumped to the floor, unconscious or dead, their armor flattened and blood seeping from the metal joints.
"Go tell Bishop Heber! Now!"
One of the remaining guards shouted, and a soldier immediately sprinted down the hall.
The Pope's fury was no small matter. Since they dared not enter the room again, informing Bishop Heber was their best option.
But when the messenger burst out of the building, he froze in his tracks, staring up at the sky.
Burning meteors were raining down from the heavens.
---
Stars fell, and the thunder of impact shook the earth. The entire inner city of the Vatican was in chaos.
Cries of "Enemy attack!" rang out everywhere.
The inner city housed the Church's core institutions and was protected by a powerful ward. It was separated from the outer city, where the common people lived, creating two distinct worlds.
But if the ward was still active... how were these burning meteors getting through?
It was a question on everyone's mind, not just the stunned guard.
The scene was apocalyptic. Knights and Black Prison Wizards scrambled to put out fires.
The meteors were massive spheres of fire, about five meters in diameter. Each impact carried the force of a modern missile. It looked less like a magical attack and more like an aerial bombardment.
Boom! Boom!
Before the guard could react, more meteors slammed down. The building behind him—the one housing the Pope's chambers—collapsed halfway.
Explosions chained together, kicking up a blinding cloud of dust and smoke that blotted out the sun.
The Pope's bedroom was located in the rear of the building, which miraculously remained standing amidst the rubble.
Inside, Rey had lost the duel.
The loud crash earlier had been his body slamming into the door, blasted backward by the Pope's magic.
Hit by the "Holy" Killing Curse, Rey had been saved only by Raphael's cloak transforming into a shield at the last second. The shield shattered on impact, and the force threw him across the room, but the curse itself didn't connect directly. He was injured, but alive.
Then came the guards opening the door, followed by the enraged Pope blasting them away.
The Pope looked wretched. Having overexerted himself, his recently rejuvenated body had withered again, returning to a skeletal, terrifying state.
He was the Pontiff; no one was allowed to see him like this. The loyal guards had paid the price for witnessing his weakness.
The Pope knew Rey wasn't dead. After dealing with the guards, he moved to capture the boy alive.
In his weakened state, if he could capture Rey and devise a way to consume his soul, he might recover faster.
But just as he stepped forward, a burning meteor smashed into the building. The structure groaned and collapsed. Dust billowed instantly, and Rey, who was only ten meters away, vanished into the grey cloud.
Rey hadn't passed out, though he had been briefly paralyzed.
Being hit by a Killing Curse—even blocked—was brutal. The sensation of total weakness, of being fully conscious but unable to move a muscle, was terrifying.
Fortunately, it only lasted a few seconds. Regaining control, Rey used the chaos and the dust cloud to scramble for cover.
But just as he prepared to hide, a sudden gale force wind swept through the ruins.
Whoosh!
The wind was unnatural and powerful, stripping away the thick dust cloud in seconds. The view cleared instantly.
Rey had only managed to crawl about twenty meters away. With the dust gone, he was left standing alone on top of a pile of rubble, completely exposed.
---
Following the wind, several streaks of white light tore across the sky, accompanied by a single trail of black mist.
Six white lights. One black mist.
The black mist was Salazar Slytherin. The white lights were Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff. Following them was Helena Ravenclaw, and two other wizards—likely elders from the Wizards' Council.
Eight powerful figures suddenly descended into the heart of the Vatican. No one had expected the Four Founders to launch a direct assault on the Church's headquarters.
The raining meteors were a combination magic cast by Godric Gryffindor and Helga Hufflepuff.
The wind that cleared the dust was Rowena Ravenclaw's doing.
With the dust gone, the Pope spotted Rey immediately. But so did Helena and the Founders.
The lights and mist landed. The Four Founders and Helena touched down right next to Rey, forming a protective circle.
Opposite them, the Pope's withered body began to change again. Steam rose from his skin.
Under the cover of the steam, his wounds vanished, and his shriveled frame filled out, returning to his plump, healthy appearance.
Even his torn and dusty robes were magically restored, becoming pristine and white once more.
---