167: Sacrifice

Ekrizdis could wield curses because he himself was essentially a curse, though his abilities were limited to manipulating flesh.

He had already died long ago, but due to the curse left on the Dementors combined with the time-turner, he regained his consciousness.

Initially, John had wondered why Ekrizdis would go to the trouble of torturing people to create Dementors.

That kind of purely malicious, self-sabotaging evil seemed like the work of a lunatic.

Now it all made sense: lunatic, yes—but not entirely without purpose.

An accidental creation had birthed an immortal Ekrizdis.

If he could escape this space, Ekrizdis would achieve complete immortality.

What a bargain. John couldn't help but want to laugh.

In fact, he did laugh.

"Fantastic."

John covered his face as he laughed, his chuckles rising from a low rumble to a wild cackle.

Through the gaps in his fingers, his eyes glinted with unrestrained greed—so much so that even Ekrizdis looked puzzled.

"It seems you're quite confident," Ekrizdis sneered, clearly unsettled by John's expression. He had always been the one in control, and even now, he believed that to be the case.

But John's gaze, as if appraising a mere object, threw him off.

"What are you laughing at?" Ekrizdis asked coldly.

"Me? I just remembered something delightful," John said, his voice light as he struggled to suppress the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Still smiling, he added, "You want me to open the Gate of Matter so you can use it to return to the world, right?"

Ekrizdis, caught off guard, let out a maniacal laugh. "You figured it out? No matter—I'll send you through myself."

"Oh no, no, no," John quickly waved his hands, his tone playful. "What I mean to say is... isn't it possible that I had the same idea?"

A mirror floated between the two of them, and by the time it drifted away, John had vanished.

Ekrizdis' eyes widened in disbelief.

He hadn't detected any magical fluctuation—how had this happened?

Suddenly, a whisper tickled his ear:

"Tell me, how much do you think a man who's lived for centuries would be worth?"

Ekrizdis whirled around, his black threads smashing into a nearby mirror, shattering it into pieces. But there was no one there.

"Come out!" he roared.

The white feathers adorning him darkened, turning pitch-black as unease crept into his heart.

The feathers scattered outward, morphing into curses that shot through the space like bullets.

Meanwhile, John flitted ghost-like between the mirrors, weaving in and out of reflections as if he belonged to them.

In the fleeting moment when Ekrizdis paused his onslaught, a silver hand silently reached out and clamped over his nose and mouth.

"Wa—!!"

Before Ekrizdis could react, John's left hand, holding his wand, pierced through Ekrizdis' neck.

For an ordinary person, such an injury would have been fatal. But Ekrizdis, a body formed of curses, could only stare wide-eyed, nearly popping his eyeballs from their sockets.

His body erupted into a black tide, surging forward to engulf John. But John brushed against a nearby mirror—and in the next moment, he emerged from behind another drifting mirror.

"How!!?"

Ekrizdis quickly reformed his humanoid shape, his pink eyes glaring menacingly at John.

John, casually twirling his wand between his fingers like a serpent, remarked, "A wizard without magic? You think that makes me powerless?"

He tilted his head with a mocking smile. "You only managed to come here by hitching a ride with me. Looks like you weren't much in life either."

Ekrizdis' rage boiled over, his composure utterly shattered.

"When two great taboos meet, the Gate of Matter will open to the ultimate path," Ekrizdis growled, his voice low and menacing. "Beyond the gate lies everything you've ever longed for—your regrets, your desires, fulfilled."

"Ah! No wonder you created Dementors," John said, his expression one of sudden realization.

Dementors were a twisted form of soul research.

Ekrizdis must have intended to purify enough souls to unlock the Gate of Matter. When that failed, he turned his attention to the Dementors themselves, aiming to achieve his goal through them.

No wonder John had always thought of Dementors as walking soul distilleries—it turned out he was right.

Unfortunately for Ekrizdis, his opponent was John: someone who, apart from his magical prowess, was also a grandmaster of combat strategy.

Ekrizdis launched another attack, but John casually sidestepped, avoiding it with minimal effort.

Then, crouching low, John dashed behind a mirror and disappeared from sight once more.

Ekrizdis, driven mad with rage, launched a frenzied assault.

Mirrors shattered one after another, yet he still couldn't find John.

Suddenly, a massive force struck his lower back, sending him sprawling forward.

"Ack! I! I will kill you!"

He rolled straight to the Gate of Matter. As he looked up, his face twisted from anger to sheer terror as he saw John standing there, cheerfully opening the gate.

"Ah—?"

"Heh~" John grinned and addressed the Gate of Matter, "I offer you this creature—a fusion of soul and curse, an abomination beyond the realm of the living—as payment. Send me back."

The Gate of Matter operated like the Coin Exchange Curse of Ancient Goblin magic, but on a far grander scale: instead of trading with gold, it demanded anything and everything of value.

By sheer worth alone, John knew he couldn't compete with the cursed body Ekrizdis had crafted and refined over centuries.

The moment John spoke, a shadowy, black arm reached out from within the gate.

"This-THIS CAN'T BE!"

Ekrizdis turned to flee, but the hand seized his leg before he could escape.

More shadowy arms emerged from the gate, pulling Ekrizdis closer to the abyss.

"Ugh! No! Leave me alone! It should have been you who got tricked by me! No!!"

Desperate, Ekrizdis clung to the doorframe, his once pink eyes now entirely black. Fixating on John with utter malice, he screamed, "No! Please! John, y-you are a good person right? Help me! Help me or I won't let you get away with this!!!"

His roars were wild and feral, like a trapped beast, his composure utterly shattered.

John stepped forward, calmly crouching beside Ekrizdis. With a smile that was almost too friendly, he began prying Ekrizdis' fingers off the doorframe, one by one.

"Rest assured, I'll live well with the conditions you've created for me," John said with mock sympathy.

"No!"

"Please No!!"

"I-I will do anything!"

With only one finger left clutching the frame, John waved a reluctant farewell, though his actions betrayed no hesitation.

"Nooo!"

"Yes~"

"Nooooo!!"

"YES!!~"

He pried off the final finger.

"Ah?—AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!"

Ekrizdis was pulled completely into the Gate of Matter, which slammed shut with a resounding boom.

On the surface of the gate, a design emerged: a tree made of interwoven lines and circles.

When the gate opened again, it revealed a space of pure white.

Much like the once-disorienting illusionary realm, this one also had three doors standing upright.

One was a white door representing life and death.

Another was a golden door representing the past and future.

The last was a silver door representing creation.

Don't ask how John knew this. The moment he stepped in, the knowledge of the doors simply appeared in his mind.

At the same time, the system chimed in again.

[Ding! Task triggered: Choice. Reward: +1 to any stat, bonus determined by the chosen door.]

This was the first time John had encountered such a task, one offering no fixed path but letting him decide instead.

Walking to the golden door, John realized that opening it would return him to the exact moment he'd disappeared.

"Huh… doesn't look like there's a rule saying I can only open one door, right?"

Just as he was about to push the golden door open, John paused, an intriguing idea forming in his mind.

What would happen if I opened all of them?

The greedy thought flashed through John's mind, and he almost lost control, his feet veering toward the silver door.

Quickly regaining clarity, cold sweat trickled down his face.

Because etched above the silver door was a line of words:

-"Those tainted by greed, selfishness, or humanity's myriad vices shall never approach."-

John shuddered, realizing just how close he'd come to falling for it.

Abandoning the silver door, he moved to the golden door, placing his hand on its handle.

Just as he was about to push it open, he felt a gaze on his back.

Turning around, he saw the kind, charitable old man with his wife on his arm.

The golden door swung open, and as John was fully pulled into its radiance, he saw a sword hurtling through the air.

He also caught a glimpse of the old man's gratified expression as he waved goodbye.

...

John awoke beneath a vast, starry night sky.

A meteor streaked across the heavens.

He turned his head and raised his left hand, gripping his wand. Softly, he murmured:

"Lumos."

The tip of the wand glowed with white light, a reassuring sign.

It meant he was back in his world.

The effects of the time ripple brought by the Time-Snap left John feeling unsettled. He propped himself up and sat by the lakeside for a long while.

Today had been a lot.

First, the Dementors. Then the curse outbreak. After that, the chaotic Time-Snap, and finally, Ekrizdis.

He had even glimpsed The Gate of Things or Matter, the pinnacle of alchemy.

Closing his eyes, John took his time to process it all.

By the lakeside, the Dementors had long since fled.

The two Harrys were nowhere to be found either.

Rising unsteadily to his feet, John was about to leave when something caught his eye.

From the corner of his vision, he spotted something in the lake water—a sword, its blade embedded in the lakebed.

Half of the sword was submerged, emanating a faint, otherworldly glow.

"Teacher..."

Inside the Gate of Things, John had seen his mentor, Nicolas Flamel.

He remembered the moment when Flamel had thrown the sword outward.

John approached the place where the sword stood and reached out to grasp it.

It was the Silver Wick Sword.

The once-shattered blade had been restored, and as John held it, he felt an aura both familiar and unfamiliar coursing through it.

John ran his hand gently along the blade.

The Silver Wick Sword seemed to radiate a sense of excitement.

A sudden realization struck him, and his eyes widened.

Equivalent exchange.

Sacrifice one soul, and you receive another in return.

"Truly deserving of the title of the most evil wizard in history. Worth every bit," John thought gleefully.

Ding!

Task complete: Decision. You have earned +1 task point and the Blessing: Rewinder.

[Rewinder: Allows the user to revert events within a scene or reverse the state of objects.]

Seeing this enhancement, John's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

This ability seemed... borderline overpowered.

As he turned his head, he locked eyes with a pair of small, beady eyes.

And instantly, he knew.

Target acquired!

It was that rat.

Peter Pettigrew had been careless. Drawn to the faint golden light shimmering in the lake, he'd made a critical mistake.

Now, caught under John's piercing gaze, he panicked!

__________

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