Chapter 192: Deathly Hallows(II)

This time, they were no longer in the village but appeared to be within an ancient castle complex, surrounded by ruins, with the shadow of death casting its gloom over everything.

"It seems there's no avoiding a fight this time," Dumbledore remarked, understanding the nature of the trial.

The Cloak, the Wand—next, it would undoubtedly be the Resurrection Stone.

But what was Fitzgerald's intention in making Cyrus experience the power of the Deathly Hallows one by one?

Regardless, Cyrus was the first to launch an attack.

With a decisive stride, he unleashed a spell. The sheer power caused the entire trial world to tremble, and the enemies drawn in black were shattered into fragments by the force of his strike.

Of course, there were many more enemies.

The minions of Death swarmed like locusts, densely packed, bringing with them death and despair.

Yet, under the overwhelming magic and power of the wands wielded by Cyrus and Dumbledore, these adversaries were little more than minor obstacles.

Their magical prowess far surpassed that of ordinary wizards; with each spell they cast, they obliterated hordes of enemies in an instant.

The two advanced steadily until they reached a wide platform, where they came face to face with Death itself.

The enormous shadow loomed under the gray lines, its hollow eyes as silent as black holes.

Despite knowing it was merely a conjured illusion, both Cyrus and Dumbledore couldn't help but feel a chill in their hearts.

Death—was the embodiment of mortality itself.

How could such an enemy be defeated?

"Immortality is not about conquering death. On the contrary, I believe that those who pursue immortality are forever prisoners of death," Dumbledore said. "They live under the shadow of death, in constant fear."

He was just shy of directly naming Voldemort.

Cyrus made no comment. He didn't want to die either, so it was hard to say whether Dumbledore was indirectly criticizing him as well.

However, on the other hand, while Cyrus didn't want to die, his desire to live was merely a natural instinct. He wasn't particularly afraid of death.

Together, he and Dumbledore took a step forward, simultaneously raising their wands. Their wands were not aimed at the minions of Death, but at Death itself!

Black lightning and black flames erupted simultaneously!

Even Niamh likely hadn't anticipated that Cyrus and Dumbledore would directly drag Death into the battlefield. The massive shadow was pierced by the lightning, tearing through Death's cloak, and was then ignited by the flames. The ghastly bones seemed to become fuel for the fire, with the contrast between the void and the void, between black and black, starkly clear.

However, Death did not seem to be harmed in any way by this. It swung its enormous hand, and a vast surge of magic formed into a legion of undead warriors that appeared before Cyrus and Dumbledore.

Clearly, this false Death from the trial did not possess direct combat power. All it could do was add dozens more enemies for Cyrus and Dumbledore to face.

In response, Dumbledore merely flicked his wand, as if he were a cowboy swinging a lasso, and hurled a great ball of fire. The flames instantly transformed into a massive tornado, blooming like a wickedly beautiful flower!

However, in this world, the flower had lost its color, leaving only the merciless heat that consumed the undead's bones to ashes!

Cyrus also summoned storm clouds, wielding the power of ancient magic with abandon, shattering the bodies of the undead giants still advancing through the flames.

After some effort, the two ultimately passed the second trial unscathed.

Death quietly vanished, leaving the path to the final trial open.

This time, Cyrus picked up the Resurrection Stone, though it wasn't the one he personally possessed.

"Having obtained the three Deathly Hallows, you could now be called the Master of Death," Dumbledore murmured. "Haah.. I once sought this power with a friend. How does it feel?"

"It's nothing but a false power," Cyrus said indifferently.

Setting aside the fact that this was merely a trial created by Neophytus, even if someone truly gathered the three Hallows, would they really become the Master of Death? Or would they simply be a puppet of Death, a toy to be mocked?

"How about you give me your wand, and let me see what the true power of the Elder Wand is?" Cyrus suggested.

"If you can defeat me, it will naturally recognize you as its master," Dumbledore replied.

"Tsk."

Dumbledore skillfully diverted the conversation, as he had no intention of handing the Elder Wand over to Cyrus. Without the Elder Wand, his ability to keep both Voldemort and Cyrus in check would be significantly diminished.

They walked through the village, and this time, they saw no trace of Death's shadow. The villagers, their faces marked by sorrow and grief, revealed in their conversations the task they had undertaken—or perhaps, what they had once done.

—Using the Resurrection Stone to bring Fitzgerald back to life.

They had succeeded, but they had also failed.

The Fitzgerald who awoke from the coffin was nothing more than a phantom of the past, a clone devoid of emotion and soul, containing only memories.

Her corpse, once a white line drawing, transformed into a black silhouette like Cyrus and Dumbledore, and her speech was mechanical.

"This is why this village ultimately drew Death's attention," she explained. "By using the power of the Deathly Hallows to resurrect me, they believed they could become the master of Death, but in reality, they only invited disaster."

"Death doesn't strike directly, but it always finds a way to claim lives through misfortune."

Fitzgerald's gaze fell on Cyrus. "What I want to tell you is that even great power, if used without restraint, only brings misfortune. This is true for the Deathly Hallows, and it's true for ancient magic as well."

The path ahead was one Dumbledore could not accompany.

Cyrus found himself alone before a massive stone statue. Everything here, including the Pensieve beneath the statue, appeared as if drawn in simple, sketch-like lines.

The statue shed white tears as Cyrus extracted the token from the Pensieve and began to explore Fitzgerald's memories.

In the memory, Fitzgerald expressed her growing concern over Morgana's use of magic.

Cyrus keenly observed that in Rookwood's memories, Morgana initially used such magic solely to help others. However, now she had become intoxicated by the thrill of her increasing power. The once grateful witch was slowly changing, becoming more obsessive and extreme, with her thirst for power surpassing everything else!

Cyrus felt increasingly certain that his plan to use Voldemort's soul as the vessel to bear the emotional burden was the right choice.

"Every power has consequences?"

"I'll wield the power, and you'll bear the consequences!" he thought to himself.

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