Chapter 86

-Nighttime, at a secluded spot along the Thames River in London.-

A slightly worn small boat was moored by the riverbank. Five or six burly men were unloading women from a car parked nearby, one by one, and placing them into the boat's cabin. 

They were part of a criminal organization in London, specializing in human trafficking for profit.

It was only eight years after the end of World War I, and while the United States had emerged as a rising power, Britain was still the world's largest colonial empire, with a strong international standing. As a result, women from London, the capital of the United Kingdom, were highly valuable in certain small countries.

Every country has its poor and its rich. These traffickers would scour the slums of London, targeting women who were at least somewhat attractive. They would then trick or abduct them, smuggling them out to sell to wealthy individuals in small countries to satisfy their twisted desires.

When women went missing in the slums, the government usually paid little attention.

"Hurry up!"

A young man standing by the riverbank, dressed sharply in a suit and tie, smoked a cigarette while barking orders at the burly men.

He was one of the leaders of the organization and was in charge of this transaction.

A fat man in his forties, standing next to him, chuckled and said:

"No need to rush; I've taken care of everything. It's safe here."

However, just as the words left his mouth, the two streetlights by the river suddenly went out, leaving only the car's headlights illuminating the area, but with the streetlights off, the light was significantly dimmer.

"Just our luck!" 

The man in the suit grumbled but didn't think much of it, assuming the lights had simply malfunctioned.

The fat man, however, was much more cautious. As soon as the lights went out, he started looking around warily.

"Someone's coming—be careful!"

Soon, the fat man spotted a figure sprinting towards them at an incredible speed from a distance.

He tried to draw his gun, but the figure was so fast that before he could even finish pulling out the weapon, he was knocked unconscious with a single punch.

The man in the suit and the other burly men carrying the women barely had time to register what was happening before they too were quickly taken down by the figure.

"Not bad—just came out for a bit and already found some decent practice targets."

Looking down at the fallen men, Leo's face broke into a satisfied smile.

He had moved from the bustling wizarding hub of Diagon Alley back to the secluded Fawley family estate precisely so he could secretly capture a few Muggles to use as practice targets for his magic.

Practical experience is the best teacher, and for many spells that affect the human body, relying on theoretical practice alone without live subjects leads to poor learning efficiency. Many of the most powerful dark spells were invented by dark wizards conducting cruel magical experiments on ordinary people.

Of course, such behavior would never be condoned by the Ministry of Magic. If an Auror caught wind of it, he would immediately be hunted down by the Ministry, becoming one of those dark wizards forced to live on the run.

So, he chose to return to the more isolated estate and capture ordinary people using physical combat techniques instead of magic, leaving no magical traces that could be tracked.

Moreover, he specifically targeted scum who deserved to be executed—people he could kill later and bury in the garden as fertilizer when he no longer needed them.

"Meeting me is actually your good fortune."

After stuffing the human traffickers into a sack and temporarily storing it in his small enchanted pouch, Leo paused, then pulled out a golden mask from his task space and put it on. He walked over to the boat's cabin.

Inside, the women were all bound at the wrists, their mouths gagged, and their eyes blindfolded. They bore obvious signs of having been beaten, with bruises covering their bodies.

At that moment, they were all huddled together, trembling in fear, not daring to make a sound, terrified that making noise would bring more beatings and abuse.

Leo removed their blindfolds and untied their ropes. Seeing their confused but still fearful expressions, he spoke gently:

"It's alright—you're safe now. Those bad men have been driven away. There's a car by the riverbank outside; you should go home quickly."

Without waiting for the women to respond, he left the cabin and disappeared with a few leaps.

Rescuing people wasn't his primary objective on this outing; it was just a side task. He wasn't going to escort each woman home, nor did he need their gratitude.

After all, that wouldn't contribute to his power in any way.

However, the women he rescued would likely remember for the rest of their lives the mysterious man with the golden mask, who seemed like a deity descending from the heavens to rescue them from the depths of hell.

...

Back at the Fawley estate, now spotless after Bally had cleaned it with magic, Leo descended to the basement. He released the people from the sack, binding each of them to the crosses he had prepared earlier in the day.

"Bally, come here for a moment!"

"Master, what can I do for you?"

The house-elf Bally instantly appeared before Leo.

Pointing to the eight people tied to the crosses, Leo said:

"These Muggles are all despicable criminals. I brought them back as practice targets for my magic. Just make sure they don't die of hunger or thirst."

House-elves are the most loyal beings, faithfully serving their masters even if they are dark wizards or pure evil. Even if they are mistreated daily, they remain devoted.

Even someone like Dobby, who longed for freedom, wouldn't reveal the Malfoy family's secrets while still bound to them.

So Leo wasn't worried about Bally betraying him or reporting him to the Ministry of Magic.

"Yes, my master, I will take good care of these lowly Muggles."

Bally nodded respectfully, casting a disdainful glance at the ordinary people bound to the crosses.

House-elves typically serve old pure-blood wizarding families, and like many pure-blood wizards, they inherently despise Muggles who lack magical blood. Bally was no exception.

Leo didn't mind this.

The conflicts between wizards and Muggles, or between pure-bloods and mixed-bloods, didn't concern him—they were all the same in his eyes.

The next day, after breakfast, he resumed his regular magic practice, this time in the basement.

"Flagrante!"

"Diffindo!"

"Episkey!"

"Episkey!"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

"Locomotor Mortis!"

One spell after another shot out from Leo's wand, hitting the terrified gang members. Their bodies would transform into animals, bleed profusely, and then be healed, over and over again.

As the effects of the spells took hold, Leo continually adjusted his stance and the speed of his incantations to ensure the magic's effects were as optimal as possible.