Chapter 209: Order of the Phoenix

"My master, I beg for your forgiveness and vow to serve you forever!"

Nott said in a trembling voice, his head bowed.

After he spoke, the other Death Eaters also fervently pleaded for forgiveness. At the same time, the blue flames immediately coiled around their left arms like a snake. Wherever the fiery serpent passed, thick black smoke billowed from the Death Eaters' arms.

"Ah!" They cried out in pain, clutching their arms as the dark mark of the Dark Lord burned away under the flames, turning into a foul-smelling black smoke that rose up into the sky.

The blue flame serpents left crimson, spiral marks on their arms — a sign of ancient magic.

Cyrus intended to build a wizard army of his own.

Although this group of purebloods was a motley crew, they hailed from ancient wizarding families that wielded significant influence in the British magical community.

Due to certain historical reasons, their bloodlines could even extend to other continents of this world.

As for the name of this organization, Cyrus hadn't yet decided. For now, it was just in its embryonic stage.

But one day, the seeds planted would grow into a towering tree, with dense branches and roots interwoven into a vast network.

Whether wizard or Muggle, the world would eventually become one!

After marking them with this symbol, the pain from the fire shield seemed to lessen, and the Death Eaters, tearful and grateful, bowed their heads in reverence to their master.

Cyrus actually quite enjoyed this feeling, though he couldn't help but find it lacking — these Death Eaters groveling before him were not exactly impressive. Besides, Voldemort wasn't dead yet!

Voldemort couldn't possibly die from just one hit. He had modified his body with magic long ago, making his magical resistance even higher than that of a fire dragon.

Cyrus could see right through his current state — this guy was clearly pretending.

Sure enough, just as most of the Death Eaters had already crossed over and the remaining ones were under increasing pressure, the gray, corpse-like body began to move.

"How should I express my disappointment in you?" Voldemort stood up, his voice soft but clearly reaching everyone's ears. "But you, Lucius, you surprised me. I thought for sure you would immediately turn to the embrace of that impostor!"

Voldemort glanced at Lucius meaningfully.

"I swear my allegiance to you, my master!"

Lucius immediately bowed his head.

He had wanted to, but Cyrus had stopped him. Lucius was a valuable piece on the chessboard, and perhaps keeping him by Voldemort's side could be useful, even if Lucius was not particularly reliable.

"But you, Bella?! I thought your loyalty to me was greater than anyone's."

"I am only loyal to the Dark Lord," Bella said, poking her cheek with her wand and tilting her head to look at Voldemort.

The Death Eaters who had already sworn their allegiance, although not directly addressed, felt a renewed fear in their hearts and looked at Voldemort in shock.

'Have we chosen the wrong side again?' they thought in terror. Their wavering thoughts brought about physical punishment as the new marks on their arms grew hot, turning into venomous snakes slithering across their skin!

"Ah—"

They fell to their knees, wailing in agony. Wherever the snake slithered, their skin was instantly burned, leaving behind ugly scars.

"This is the price of betrayal thoughts," Cyrus said, looking at them with contempt, before stepping out of the flames to face Voldemort.

He certainly knew that Voldemort couldn't be defeated so easily. If Voldemort were that easy to deal with, then Dumbledore's years of fighting against him would be nothing short of ridiculous.

"I have to say, you surprise me more and more, Cyrus," Voldemort said, sincerely praising him. "Is this also the power of ancient magic?"

Compared to before, Cyrus had become much more formidable, even achieving the unprecedented feat of transforming into a magical creature. However, to Voldemort, who had regained his strength, Cyrus was still not a serious threat.

He looked at the Death Eaters being tormented in the flames, a look of disgust in his eyes.

"I truly don't know how to describe your stupidity. Haven't you already believed that I lost once?" There was a calm fury in his eyes.

But when he looked at those who had already gathered around Cyrus, his gaze showed not even the slightest hint of regret.

He had never cared about so-called pure-bloods. He just needed some servants, and it so happened that their veins did not carry the filthy blood of Muggles.

Only Bellatrix's betrayal truly pained Voldemort.

She had once been someone he could entrust with a Horcrux, but now she stood behind Cyrus. 

Even though Bellatrix's husband was right next to him, to Voldemort, wasn't this a form of betrayal?

But since she had already made her choice, Voldemort would not be lenient.

"The game should end now, Cyrus. I will show you my true power! Not just mine, but also my family's!"

By "family," Voldemort naturally meant the Death Eaters.

Although some of them had already betrayed him, it didn't matter much. Those traitors were now writhing pitifully at Cyrus's feet, suffering from the punishment of betrayal thoughts.

Voldemort was somewhat satisfied with this, but if it were up to him, he would have been even more ruthless!

"Kill the traitors," Voldemort commanded, his snake-like eyes sweeping over those still standing behind him. When his gaze fell on Rodolphus, he spoke even more cruelly, "You, kill Bellatrix!"

"Of course, my Lord!" Rodolphus and his brother both took a step forward.

Lucius also promptly drew his wand, but from his shifty-eyed demeanor, it was clear he intended to protect himself above all else.

"Are you alright, Barty?" Voldemort asked with concern for his most loyal servant.

Barty was fine and came over to Voldemort's side.

"You will take care of Bulstrode," Voldemort instructed. "You know, he was one of my earliest followers. It is only fitting that you be the one to kill him!" His tone was solemn, making it clear that this was not just an order but also a testament to Barty's importance.

"Of course!" Barty smiled crazely, he was eager to kill!

On Voldemort's side, there was a strong momentum. In contrast, on Cyrus's side, although the numbers were about the same, the real fighting power was reduced to just two and a half people.

One was Bellatrix, the other was Bulstrode, and the last half was Harry, who had picked up the wands of the others.

"You are now at a loss, Cyrus."

"Am I?" Cyrus smirked, tilting his chin up, signaling Voldemort to look up at the sky.

In the darkness of the night, there were figures riding skeletal steeds of death—the Thestrals!

The Order of the Phoenix had arrived!

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