Chapter 51: Frenzy of the Serpents
"It should be around here."
After a thorough search, George realized that the magical arrow kept fluctuating within a hundred-meter radius. He instructed Issa to keep the plane hovering in stealth mode above the area while he jumped directly from the aircraft.
"Found it."
Hovering over a valley by the desert, George used binoculars to locate a crude military base built beside a cave. The base was littered with missiles branded with Stark Industries' logo, while poorly dressed terrorists armed with various firearms patrolled the perimeter.
George didn't attack immediately. Instead, he quietly landed near the valley under the cover of night and found a suitable sniping position. He then unstrapped the sniper rifle from his back.
He was uncertain whether there were hidden guards in addition to the obvious patrols in the valley.
If he launched a direct attack, the visible guards wouldn't pose a significant challenge. However, if hidden snipers worked together against him, he might not react quickly enough.
"Better force them to reveal themselves."
Setting the sniper rifle aside, George pondered briefly before formulating a plan.
"Serpensortia!"
"Serpensortia!"
"Serpensortia!"
One by one, rattlesnakes began slithering out of the sand around him with every incantation George uttered.
In the world of Harry Potter, the effectiveness of magic varies depending on a wizard's mastery of the spell. The same fire spell could produce a blazing inferno in Dumbledore's hands but merely a small flame for a young student. Similarly, the Killing Curse could be a deadly force for an adult wizard but might only cause a nosebleed if cast by a novice.
However, a wizard's magical capacity isn't inherently limited.
Even with continuous casting, a wizard's magical power won't be depleted. At most, prolonged use could lead to physical exhaustion—similar to the fatigue caused by endlessly waving one's arms. With sufficient determination, a wizard could theoretically cast spells for 24 hours straight without running out of magical energy.
George speculated that this might be due to the wizard's bloodline converting external energy into magic or because wizards regenerate magic extraordinarily quickly—like a game character with a 100x mana regeneration rate.
Regardless of the reason, George exploited his ability to cast magic indefinitely, repeatedly summoning snakes to amass a venomous army.
"I really live up to my Slytherin heritage," he muttered, stretching his sore arms while surveying the thousand-strong rattlesnake horde in front of him. Even his throat felt a bit hoarse.
As hand gestures were integral to spellcasting, George averaged about six or seven incantations per minute. Summoning over a thousand snakes required more than two hours of constant effort.
"I need to figure out how to make a wand soon," George mused.
With a wand, he estimated he could cast 30 summoning spells per minute, allowing him to summon a thousand snakes in just over half an hour.
"Go forth and bite anything that moves!"
At George's command, the snakes scattered, slithering down the valley to search every nook and cranny.
No matter how well-hidden the terrorists were, they couldn't escape the detection of thousands of venomous snakes. Anyone bitten by the snakes would either die immediately or be forced to abandon their post for treatment, creating an opportunity for George to strike.
"S-snake!"
Before long, screams echoed from various corners of the valley. Though George didn't understand their language, it was clear the screams were from people bitten by his summoned snakes.
Gunfire erupted as the guards tried to fend off the serpents. The guards outside the cave scrambled to assist the ambushed sentries.
Meanwhile, inside the cave, a panicked subordinate burst into the base leader's quarters.
"Boss, we have a problem! Our men outside are being attacked by snakes!"
"Idiot! If they're bitten, just treat them. This is the desert—it's not like we haven't dealt with snakebites before."
Initially alarmed, the bald leader leaped from his bed, but his anger flared when he realized it was merely a snake issue. He kicked the subordinate to the ground in frustration.
"Boss, it's not just one or two snakes. There are hundreds—maybe thousands!" the subordinate explained, nursing his bruised ribs.
The leader froze in disbelief. "Hundreds? Are you joking?"
Snakes in the desert were normal, but hundreds of them? That was unheard of, even if they had stumbled into a snake nest.
His skepticism faded when he checked the surveillance feed. The sheer number of snakes swarming his men made his skin crawl.
"Leave two guards to watch Tony Stark. The rest of you, grab flamethrowers and follow me. We're having roasted snake for breakfast tomorrow!"
Despite his initial shock, the leader quickly devised a plan. Guns were inefficient against such a swarm, but flamethrowers were the perfect countermeasure.
Inside the cave, Tony Stark was also startled by the commotion outside. He tried peering through a crack in the door but was harshly scolded by the two guards stationed there.
Two months earlier, Tony had been captured by terrorists while demonstrating his latest missile prototype for the military. During the chaos, shrapnel from his own weapon had wounded him, and only the timely intervention of Dr. Yinsen, another captive, saved his life.
Through Yinsen, Tony learned that the weapons he designed to protect his country were being used to massacre innocent lives. He also discovered that the terrorists had spared him to coerce him into building advanced weaponry for their cause.
Overwhelmed with guilt and despair, Tony had considered ending his own life.
Yinsen's words, however, reignited his will to live. With renewed determination, Tony built a makeshift arc reactor to keep his heart functioning and began designing the first Iron Man suit.
"Don't worry—it doesn't seem like the commotion outside is about us. Something must've happened on their end," Tony reassured Yinsen.
"That's a relief," Yinsen sighed.
They had already begun assembling components for the Iron Man suit. If discovered, their plans would surely end in execution.
Outside the cave, George silently positioned his sniper rifle. Watching the bald leader emerge with a group of men wielding flamethrowers, he muttered, "Didn't expect the boss himself to step out. Perfect—let's start with you."