(A/N):
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
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Artificial Netherworld...
In the artificial netherworld, silence reigned like a tomb until a tremor cut through the dead air.
"____"
Upon a throne of jagged stone sat a figure clad in tattered black robes,
His form a shadow stitched together by will and malice.
In his hand,
A sickle of warped silver pulsed with an unnatural rhythm,
As though the weapon itself was alive.
The hood that cloaked his face revealed nothing but darkness—
Until he tilted it back.
From beneath, a pair of glowing green eyes flared, venomous and furious.
"Impossible!"
His voice tore through the void, echoing in a thousand shrieking tones.
"This cannot be!"
He slammed the sickle against the obsidian floor,
Sending ripples across the netherworld.
Through his attunement, he could feel it—
The density of magic in the living world had surged.
It was no longer the thin, dying current he had cultivated, weakened, bled dry.
It was vibrant again.
Stronger than ever.
And worse…
Something else had been born alongside it.
A new force, alien yet familiar, stirring in the void left behind by collapsing technology.
A counterbalance to his control.
A rival that should never have existed.
His plan—
Decades in the making—
Lay shattered before him.
He had waited patiently, feeding on the dying embers of magic, ensuring that when the last flames flickered out,
They would belong only to him.
But now—
"It was supposed to be mine. All mine!"
The ground cracked beneath him.
It was none other than Death it self.
The skies of his false world bled black ichor.
The nether towers that lined the horizon shook violently, their foundations breaking apart.
The artificial netherworld, his sanctuary, was unraveling.
The world shuddered as Death stepped onto human soil.
His very presence seemed to smother the air—
Flowers wilted, shadows thickened,
And the distant cries of ravens echoed unnaturally.
Beneath his hood,
Those green eyes burned brighter, scanning the transformed landscape.
Trees glowed faintly, rivers pulsed with soft luminescence, and even the stones under his boots hummed with new life.
The land itself was soaked in magic, vibrant and untamed.
"This world… stolen from me,"
He hissed, his voice carrying the weight of endless funerals.
For the first time in years,
Death's eternal calm was replaced by something far more dangerous—
Rage.
Cauldron & Charm Apothecary...
Experimental Laboratory...
Meanwhile, in the heart of Cauldron & Charm Apothecary,
Leo leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed, watching Nicolo Flames and his wife, Penelle, at work.
Nicolo's trembling hands carefully placed a single vial of the Tears of Magic—
The luminous rainwater—
Into a small cauldron.
The liquid shimmered like liquid starlight, shifting colors as if alive.
Penelle gasped, covering her mouth.
Gasp~
"____"
"____"
"Nicolo… it's stabilizing the potion!"
Leo's eyes narrowed.
Frown~
"Explain."
Nicolo's excitement burst through his usual composed demeanor.
He looked like a child who had just uncovered the universe's greatest secret.
"A single drop, Leo… just one,"
Nicolo said breathlessly.
"It doesn't merely mix—it multiplies. A lake becomes a sea of magic. A sea becomes an ocean. And every ounce of it devours impurities. It is as if the water itself is alive, sworn to cleanse corruption."
Penelle nodded eagerly.
Nod~
"And when added to the Muggle Wizard Transformation Potion—it erases the pain. The transformation becomes seamless… gentle. Almost… natural."
Leo's brows lifted.
"____"
This was beyond what he had hoped.
"So the potion is perfected."
Nicolo's voice dropped to a whisper, awe filling every syllable.
"Perfected? No, Leo the potion is already perfect… this is transcendent. This rain has rewritten the very laws of alchemy."
As the trio marveled,
An unnatural chill crept into the room.
"____"
"____"
"____"
The glass vials rattled faintly,
And the flame beneath the cauldron flickered though there was no wind.
Leo's instincts sharpened instantly.
His eyes darted to the door.
A moment before...
Leo was still riding the rush of Nicolo's discovery,
The familiar chime of the system echoed in his mind.
[Ding!]
[System Notification: The Betrayer of Magic has descended.]
[Warning: Magic itself asks for your blade, Leo Morningstar. Defeat the Betrayer, or the world shall become nothing more than his stage for cruelty—its people, pawns for his amusement.]
[Ding!]
[Hidden Mission Triggered!]
[Kill the Fake Death]
[Reward: ???]
Leo froze.
"____"
For a heartbeat, the world around him dulled—
Nicolo's excited rambling, even the humming of the Tears of Magic.
All faded as the weight of those words pressed into his skull.
"Betrayer of magic… fake Death,"
Leo muttered under his breath, his red eyes narrowing dangerously.
His heartbeat steadied, his expression sharpened into that calm steel everyone around him recognized:
The look Leo wore only when battle was inevitable.
Nicolo and Penelle exchanged worried glances, sensing the sudden tension radiating from him.
"Leo? What's wrong?"
Penelle asked softly.
Leo didn't answer immediately.
Instead, his gaze drifted toward the window, toward the far horizon where an unnatural chill swept across the world.
Somewhere out there… the so-called Death walked.
Finally, he exhaled, voice low and resolute.
"War has arrived. The enemy who betrayed Magic itself walks this earth again."
The air in the laboratory had shifted—
Heavy, charged, like the world itself was holding its breath.
"____"
"____"
"____"
Leo didn't hesitate.
He turned sharply to Nicolo, who was still clutching the vial of luminous rainwater.
"Nicolo. Contact Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and Minister Jenkins immediately,"
Leo ordered, his tone calm but carrying the sharp edge of urgency.
"Tell them to prepare the Ministry and every capable witch and wizard for battle. Fake Death has descended."
Nicolo's eyes widened, but he nodded firmly, already reaching for his enchanted mirror to establish contact.
Leo pushed open the heavy oak door of the lab—
Only to pause.
Before him, like shadows gathering to flame, his women appeared.
Each of them had been summoned by the system itself after granting permission, their forms flickering into being with faint traces of magic still clinging to their skin.
Their faces carried the same message:
'they knew.'
Wakana moved first.
She didn't say a word at first, just stepped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around him, burying her face against his chest.
Since arriving in this world,
She had embraced her new identity as a witch, throwing herself into transfiguration and charms with a quiet, determined joy.
But now, for the first time,
She felt the tremor of fear—
The dread of losing him to a battle against something as ominous as "Death."
"I… I want to help this time,"
Wakana whispered, her voice muffled against him.
"Even if it's dangerous."
Leo's hand rose, firm and warm, resting on her shoulder.
He leaned back just enough to meet her gaze, a smirk tugging at his lips.
Smirk~
"Don't worry. I'll be fine,"
He said, his red eyes glinting with certainty that only he could project.
"I won't let Death—or a fake pretending to be him—lay a finger on any of you."
Wakana nodded, swallowing hard, but the determination in her eyes didn't fade.
Nod~
Then Mavis bounded forward, her usual energy bursting through even in this tense moment.
She hugged him tightly, but her grin was wide and mischievous, as if she were secretly excited by the danger ahead.
"Don't you dare lose,"
She teased.
"Other wise my grandpa will spawn new bizarre stories about your adventure."
One by one they came—
Kejoro, Hagoromo Gitsune, Eileen, Bellatrix, Andromeda, Narcissa—
Each laying their silent claim of loyalty upon him.
Delphini clung to his arm, her violet eyes searching his face with worry,
While Minerva and Jenkins—
Transported here by the system itself—
Stood nearby, grave yet resolute.
The room brimmed with warmth and tension, with love and looming battle.
The system had called them, bound by their choice to stand by him.
Leo looked over them all, his women, his allies, his family.
He straightened, but his presence only seemed to grow stronger.
"Then it's settled,"
He said, voice steady as stone.
"It's my battle..."
The flames in his red eyes seemed to burn brighter as he added, low and final.
"This battle… will be his last."
As Leo's vow hung in the air, the room vibrated faintly.
The familiar chime of the system echoed in his mind, cutting through the murmurs of his women.
[Ding!...]
[System Notification]: Coordinates of the Betrayer of Magic have been located.]
[Do you wish to be transported to the Fake Death's location?]
[ Yes / No ]
The words pulsed in his vision, stark and unyielding.
Leo didn't hesitate—
Not even for a heartbeat.
"Yes,"
He said firmly, the word carrying like an oath.
The instant the choice left his lips, the air above him cracked.
A golden light, pure and blinding, split the heavens.
It descended like a divine pillar, striking the cobblestone road outside the laboratory where he had been standing only moments before.
The brilliance swallowed him whole, wrapping around his frame like celestial fire.
His women reached out instinctively, hands outstretched, but the light was too fierce to pierce.
And then—
He was gone.
The street fell silent, the golden glow fading into shimmering dust that lingered in the air.
"____"
"____"
"____"
Only the faint crackle of static remained,
A reminder that Leo Morningstar had been summoned into the very heart of place which soon become a battlefield—
Face to face with the False Death.
The street fell eerily silent—
Like the world itself was holding its breath.
Minister Jenkins, her cloak billowing in the rain-soaked wind.
Her eyes swept the spot where Leo had stood, lips tightening with resolve.
Without wasting a second,
She apparated with a sharp twist, vanishing toward the Ministry to rally the Auror Office and prepare for the storm she knew was coming.
Across Britain, news spread like wildfire.
At Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore stood in the headmaster's office, staring out over the castle grounds as the first signs of magical unrest shimmered across the wards.
His jaw set, he turned and swept his wand, and readying the school for war.
Meanwhile, in the shadows of London's Muggle districts,
Gellert Grindelwald emerged from obscurity.
His silver tongue and darker charisma began weaving panic and promises alike, stirring chaos among unsuspecting crowds.
Behind him, his followers moved like wraiths, their presence infecting the streets with dread.
The Ministry's call to arms echoed across departments.
Dozens of Aurors assembled in waves, their ranks bolstered by recruits still green but eager.
Among them stood a young Alastor Moody—the fire in his gaze unmistakable.
He is the leader for this squad.
His wand hand was steady, his reputation already growing as a man who would stand in the front lines without hesitation.
And beyond Britain's borders, word of the impending conflict spread fast.
Several Ministries of Magic, receiving the message sensing the magnitude of what was about to unfold, readied their own strike teams.
Floo networks blazed green with frantic communications, owls streaked across storm-heavy skies, and magical governments prepared to commit forces—
Knowing that the battle to come might shake the balance between world.
The board was set.
The players were moving.
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(Author's POV)
(A/N)I hope you guys are enjoying the story.
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give a review
And power stone!!!
It will Motivate Me.