Chapter 145: The Dark Lord Struck by Lightning

The dragon hadn't been hit; Cyrus had deliberately steered the dragon to dive.

Since Voldemort had caused him so much trouble, how could he not return the favor with a big gift?

He wasn't worried about the danger of grappling with Voldemort.

Voldemort had forcibly possessed that dark wizard, and after such an intense battle, that wizard's body wouldn't hold up for long. In a prolonged fight, the final victor would be Cyrus.

He slightly turned his head.

A bright black slash of wind passed by his ear, blowing his hair and illuminating his eyes.

Even though it missed, the slash made the tips of Cyrus's ears throb with pain.

The spell was very similar to the Severing Charm, Sectumsempra, but it appeared to be an enhanced version.

Voldemort had reduced the number of blades, greatly increasing their power.

One strike left a deep gash on the cave's ceiling!

Cyrus stepped on the dragon's spine, conjuring ropes from his wand to secure himself to the dragon.

He held the rope with one hand and a spear of lightning in the other.

The dragon dove towards Voldemort, like a train car hurtling down a track!

Cyrus, wielding lightning, looked like a Thunder God!

*Crack!*

The thunderous roar echoed through every corner of the cave.

As the lightning was cast, it became the sole source of light in the cave!

In that darkness, it was as if a bolt of lightning had fallen!

Kingsley felt as though the thunder had exploded right beside his ear, like sharp claws piercing into his pounding heart, tearing the flesh from his chest.

His eardrums throbbed with pain, and it took a while for his eyes to readjust to the darkness.

When he looked down again, the flames in the cave had vanished.

Without this huge light source, he couldn't see anything at all.

The cave was pitch black, as if the dragon, lightning, and fire had never appeared, and the battle had only been a figment of their imagination.

But the continuously crumbling rock walls, the collapsing cave, and the rocks crashing into the unseen depths below kept reminding him that the battles were real, undeniably real!

Cyrus continued his descent.

He saw the lightning strike Voldemort, and he also saw Voldemort fall uncontrollably into the dark abyss like a crashing rocket.

However, his current target wasn't Voldemort himself but the Horcrux hidden within Gringotts.

The Cup!

He happened to know the location of the Lestrange family's vault.

Previously when he was looking for the key to Vault 12, he had returned to Azkaban and communicated with Lucius Malfoy.

It was then that he had conveniently inquired about these details, which were now proving useful.

'Of course, I don't have the key.'

But at this moment, he didn't need it.

The aging dragon couldn't stop in the air, or maybe its vision had become a bit blurry, as it crashed headlong into the vault door.

The impact left it dazed and disoriented.

Interestingly, the door looked wooden but was unexpectedly sturdy; even being hit by a dragon didn't damage it.

Cyrus jumped off the dragon's back and drew his wand:

"Confringo!"

*Boom!*

The ground trembled, dust exploded outward like a gust of wind, and the door was blown to smithereens, revealing an entrance.

Inside, from floor to ceiling, the vault was filled with gold coins, golden goblets, silver armor, various strange animal skins with spines or wings, potions in bottles, and even a skull still wearing a crown.

Cyrus had no interest in money, and besides, everything here was enchanted with the Fiendfyre Curse and the Gemino Curse.

Anyone who touched them would be burned by Fiendfyre; anyone who caused them to collide would trigger them to multiply. But the duplicated items held no real value.

These two curses were quite skillfully cast.

Had Cyrus not known about them in advance, he might have fallen into the trap. But now, they were naturally useless.

"Finite Incantatem!"

He thrust his wand into the ground, and the power of the spell began to spread, covering the gold coins and gems, immediately dispelling the enchantments upon them.

He stepped on piles of gold coins, each step producing a crisp metallic clink—the sound of wealth, but only fit to be under his feet.

His goal was clear from the start: the golden cup. And that golden cup—

He didn't know what Bellatrix was thinking.

Perhaps she considered it the highest reward from the Dark Lord, which is why she placed it in the most conspicuous spot, right in the center of the vault, at the highest point!

Almost touching the ceiling.

It was entirely gold, not particularly luxurious among the four relics. The cup was small, with a badger engraved on it, and it had two handles on either side.

'Hmm'

Cyrus weighed it in his hand; the cup felt substantial.

He didn't destroy the golden cup immediately; it would be wasteful to do so.

After all, it was a relic left by one of the four founders. It was said that the cup could produce food out of thin air, a power that Cyrus was very interested in.

It's important to know that even in the magical world, there are many immutable rules.

One of them is the inability to create food out of nothing.

At most, food could be summoned or duplicated.

These rules, like the laws of physics, sustain the magical world. But the golden cup broke one of these rules.

Moreover, the connection between the golden cup and Voldemort had already been severed.

Destroying it now would likely go unnoticed by Voldemort.

Even if Cyrus were to destroy the cup, he would do it in front of Voldemort, delivering a significant blow.

Heh~

He conjured a pocket inside his robe, placed the golden cup inside, and cast a spell to prevent it from falling out.

Naturally, he didn't ignore the piles of shimmering gold coins and jewels at his feet.

While Cyrus wasn't particularly interested in treasure, he hadn't forgotten his promise to Hermione to send them gifts for Christmas.... 'Yes, not that I want then or anything.. Just for gifts..'

He certainly wouldn't let Malfoy foot the bill, would he?

As he exited the vault, he looked down towards the bottom of the cave.

His exceptionally sharp eyesight allowed him to see far and clearly even in the dark.

At the very depths of the cave, he saw Voldemort lying weakly on the ground, his face pale.

The lightning spell from earlier had indeed been powerful, and Cyrus believed it had inflicted some damage on Voldemort. However, it wasn't enough to leave him so weakened.

The only explanation was that the body Voldemort had possessed was on the verge of collapse.

'Borrowed power was never truly one's own.'

Cyrus smirked coldly and sent another spell shooting from his wand.

The spell resembled a crimson meteor falling from the heavens. But even in his weakened state, Voldemort wouldn't be so easily defeated.

He gave up the wizard's body without hesitation, turned into a dark mist and separated from the opponent's body, and then once again condensed into a terrifying appearance in front of Cyrus' eyes.

"Cyrus, don't think you won!" A snake-like face appeared in the shadow and steam, and the recognizable scarlet eyes were full of hatred.

"Oh? So who won? Certainly not you, right?" Cyrus sneered.

He did not stop the movement of his hands.

He knew that Voldemort could not be killed for the time being, but being unkillable was one thing, and being able to imprison him was another.

He waved his wand, and the rubble in the cave gathered together as if alive, completely surrounding Voldemort, who had turned into a ball of black smoke, and then locked him tightly like a quake.

But even so, the thick fog still spread along the cracks in the rock.

Cyrus noticed this and immediately turned the rock into an airtight glass bottle.

The black smoke in the bottle was like a flowing sea current, looking for an outlet everywhere, but it could only swirl around inside powerlessly.

Cyrus raised his eyebrows, stretched out his hand to hold the glass bottle, and brought it in front of his eyes. "Now, let's see."

His golden eyes were reflected on the glass.

The ball of black fog in the bottle twisted its "body" and finally aimed the part that could be called a face at Cyrus.

Cyrus couldn't even see his facial features, but he could clearly feel his anger at the moment.

"Do you like your new home, Voldemort?" Cyrus asked softly.

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