The battlefield beyond Hogwarts continued to expand in intensity.
On the plains outside the Black Lake, at the heart of the battlefield, Aberforth stood back to back with a group of traditional wizards. Some wielded chipped longswords, others held empty quivers, while some clutched bloodstained wands, their bodies soaked in fresh blood.
They stood atop heaps of Squib soldiers' corpses, relentlessly casting spells at the advancing enemies. Despite the countless foes they had already slain, the soldiers continued to flood in, seemingly endless.
Gradually, some of the wizards under Aberforth's command could no longer hold on. Some collapsed to the ground, where they were impaled and torn apart by bayonets, while others were riddled with bullets.
Like a swarm of ants, the soldiers swarmed toward Aberforth. His magic exhausted, he threw aside his wand, gripped a greatsword with both hands, and charged recklessly at the enemy.
Suddenly, a rain of green curses descended from the sky, wiping out the soldiers encircling him in an instant.
Looking up, he saw a large group of cloaked wizards riding broomsticks. They swept across the battlefield under the leadership of a tall, cold-faced woman, firing spells downward as they passed.
Upon witnessing this scene, Aberforth wiped the blood from his face and let out a hearty laugh.
Oksavia led the Durmstrang wizards in a tight formation, flying in coordinated precision. Each wizard held up a Shield Charm, forming a triangular defense formation as they weaved back and forth above the Squib army. Their wands fired continuous streams of green Killing Curses, cleansing the battlefield again and again.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the battlefield, closer to Hogwarts Castle, Olymp rode atop a massive winged white horse from Beauxbatons. Leading a dozen wizards, he soared over the enormous protective shield surrounding the castle, firing spell after spell at the Muggle aircraft that persistently attacked the barrier.
Further beyond the battlefield, in a region yet untouched by the flames of war, Dumbledore raised his wand toward the sky. Clouds began to rapidly gather, shrouding the once-clear night sky.
Hogwarts' Potions Master, Slughorn, was directing wizards to transport large barrels to Dumbledore's side. When they opened the barrels, they revealed their contents—potent Forgetfulness Potions.
Dumbledore observed the thickening storm clouds and the fierce battle below. With the arrival of the Durmstrang wizards, the Squib soldiers' assault had momentarily slowed, offering him a brief sigh of relief. If he could transform the potion into rain and let it fall upon the soldiers, this dreadful battle might finally be put on pause.
Unless something unexpected happened.
However, from the dense clouds, a massive figure slowly emerged, sending a shudder through Dumbledore. His heart sank. No matter how much he wished for stability, an unforeseen variable had arrived.
Flanking the massive figure were two smaller ones—one of them was being held in someone's grasp. The sight of that familiar figure made Dumbledore's wand hand tremble slightly. He shut his eyes in pain.
"Headmistress Romanova, what is that?!"
A Durmstrang wizard suddenly pointed to the sky.
Oksavia looked up, her face quickly draining of color. She pressed her lips together tightly, saying nothing.
On the other side of the battlefield, Olymp, still mounted on his winged steed while battling the Muggle aircraft, also noticed the inexplicable translucent creature emerging from the clouds. When he saw the two small figures beside the massive entity, he gasped in shock and shouted, "Master Bach!"
In the trenches, Aberforth had been rinsing the blood from his eyes with water, but his hands suddenly froze. His waterskin slipped silently to the ground. Gripping his greatsword, he stared blankly at the sky, witnessing what could only be described as a divine manifestation.
The battlefield fell into eerie silence. The artillery ceased. Wizards and Squibs alike turned their heads skyward, a strange sense of dread and unease gripping them. For the first time, they laid eyes on the very embodiment of the world's rules.
Suspended in the sky was a vast, translucent being. It emerged from the clouds, its form shimmering with starlit glimmers. Unlike its previous appearances, this time, it carried an elegance as if it had dressed up for a grand occasion. Its face was no longer grotesque and terrifying, its numerous tendrils and spikes were gone, and its eyes now radiated an indescribable dreamlike beauty.
With elongated fingers, its flowing hair brushed across the faces of those below as it moved gracefully. In its palm, it cradled Sylby and Hoffa.
Sylby, floating in the air, lifted his head slightly. Unlike the others who gazed in reverence, his eyes reflected only disdain and indifference.
"God of Nightmares? What are you doing here?"
He asked casually, as if addressing a servant.
"You just said something about chasing the pinnacle, didn't you?"
The Nightmare God's expression was eerily curious. It tilted its head a full one hundred and eighty degrees, its face shifting unpredictably.
"Yes. You've been watching long enough. Keep watching."
Sylby replied nonchalantly.
"No, no, no." The Nightmare God wagged a finger and chuckled. "I have no interest in watching a game that has lost its suspense. Hoffa Bach has already been defeated. The uncertainty is gone, and you know how much I dislike that."
A sneer played at the corner of Sylby's lips. Having regained his full power, he lifted Hoffa effortlessly, floating upward until he was face-to-face with the colossal, transparent entity.
"I'm busy destroying the world. Talk later." He spoke as if it were a trivial matter.
"Did you not hear me?" The Nightmare God said. "For you, this outcome is a certainty. And I have no interest in certainties."
"So?"
Sylby tilted his head slightly, intrigued. "What do you intend to do?"
"Sylby, you know that as a god, my greatest trait is impartiality. Just as I assisted you when Hoffa Bach was about to defeat you without suspense, now that you have set such a clear goal, I'm afraid I must do the same for you."
The Nightmare God spoke with both regret and delight.
"A trial? Hahaha…"
Sylby chuckled as if he had just heard the most ridiculous joke, his shoulders trembling.
"That's right," the Nightmare God continued. "Just as I once gave Hoffa Bach his trials, you must overcome yours to continue forward. Otherwise…"
"Hahahahahahaha!"
Sylby could no longer contain his manic laughter, abruptly interrupting the Nightmare God's incessant chatter.
The laughter suddenly ceased, and Sylby lowered his head ominously. "Are you done talking?"
The Nightmare God froze.
Then, it realized—it couldn't move.
In the air, two enormous arms extended from behind Sylby. They were completely transparent, just like the Nightmare God's own body—arms formed entirely from a psychic force field.
Hoffa's eyes widened as he gazed at the two massive, translucent arms that had appeared. Such an immense psychic force field was almost unheard of. This power had no material foundation, no magical energy as a medium, yet it manifested directly into reality. He had never seen a wizard condense their mind to such an extent.
The Nightmare God, trapped within those transparent arms, was completely immobilized. Realizing what the tiny human before it intended to do, it twisted and struggled madly, letting out a thunderous roar—
"Sylby Spencer! What are you trying to do!?"
"Giving me a trial? What a joke. Do you even qualify?"
Sylby spoke coldly. "It seems someone doesn't quite understand their place."
Then, with a deafening roar—
The two transparent arms twisted the Nightmare God's massive form and violently tore it apart. Under the force of a raging, boundless will—
The god's translucent body was ripped open! Its vast, dreamlike form was shredded by the overwhelming psychic force, dissolving into a chaotic psychic storm that swept across the battlefield.
The Nightmare God howled in agony, its distorted psychic energy warping even further. Countless silent soldiers on the battlefield began bleeding from their noses, their eyes rolling back as they were shaken to death—organs ruptured, blood pouring from their orifices.
Those wizards whose mental strength was too weak clutched their heads, screaming in agony, as if countless blades were slicing through their brains.
Even the strongest of wizards couldn't endure this madness. Faces pale, their expressions turned numb as they stared at the incomprehensible scene unfolding in the sky, unable to breathe, unable to move.
"You... you hurt a god!"
The Nightmare God roared in disbelief, staring at its own torn body. "You dare injure a god!?"
"It's not the first time I've hurt you."
Sylby waved a single hand, and the Nightmare God's spirit form was completely shattered by the sheer force of his power. Then, with another flick of his wrist, an immense suction force emanated from his palm.
As its spiritual body disintegrated, the Nightmare God's true form plummeted from the sky. A tiny octopus, sealed inside a glass sphere, landed in Sylby's hand.
Sylby stared at the pitiful creature trapped inside the glass. His cold voice dripped with mockery.
"From the beginning, you've been nothing more than a tool to me. A tool should know its place. And yet, you dare to speak of testing me? Do you really think you're worthy?"
With that, two more demonic hands extended from behind Sylby—this time formed entirely from pure magic. They grasped the Nightmare God's physical body and squeezed.
Crack!
The glass sphere shattered. Sylby clenched his fingers viciously.
"AHHHHHH!!!!"
A formless, piercing wail rang out—
The scream of a god.
The collapse of the psychic force field plunged the entire world into eerie silence. At that moment, uncertainty itself seemed to vanish. War ceased. Chaos disappeared. Conflict faded. Trade halted. Art ended. Magic stopped. Witchcraft dissipated. Even the stock market no longer fluctuated, reduced to a single unbroken line.
Sylby had done the unthinkable—he had crushed the Nightmare God's eye. Thick, dark-purple blood gushed forth.
In that world, only Sylby's voice remained.
"What do you think you are? You dare to put me through a trial?!"
"DIE!!"
With his furious roar, the demonic hands behind him tore the Nightmare God in two, slamming the remains into the ground.
Even after that, Sylby was still unsatisfied. Grabbing Hoffa, he descended from the sky and stood beside the shattered remains of the Nightmare God. Reaching into his waistband, he fumbled for something.
"...A god can bleed. That is nothing," the Nightmare God's broken remains weakly muttered. "But your trial... is... destined..."
The Nightmare God couldn't finish its sentence.
Hiss—
A golden, steaming arc traced through the air—
A warm golden stream fell upon the Nightmare God's broken remains.
Hiss—
The flow was strong.
"Didn't you love uncertainty? Do you still like it now?"
Sylby asked coldly as he swayed.
The sound of endless trickling filled the battlefield.
The Nightmare God's disembodied eye, lying outside its body, slowly lost its light in utter humiliation.
For billions of years, since the dawn of divinity—
It had never suffered such a—
[Great!]
[Utter!]
[Total!]
[Humiliation!]
Every cannon, every gun, every battle on the field fell into stunned silence.
The entire world was left with only the sound of Sylby relieving himself.
Once he was done, Sylby stepped on the remains of the Nightmare God, grinding them into the filthy mud without mercy.
Holding Hoffa Bach in one hand, his pants unfastened, a stone hand atop his head, he strode step by step toward the masses of stunned wizards standing outside Hogwarts. His body was engulfed in roaring black flames.
Alone, he faced tens of thousands of wizards. Raising the young man in his grasp, his voice was cold and distant—
"This is the legendary wizard you placed your hopes on. Look at his feeble expression. Look at his battered, broken body. Look at your so-called last bastion."
With all his might, he flung Hoffa.
A towering cross-shaped wall rose in the sky. Mid-flight, Hoffa was impaled upon it by a single black spike.
"Come on. Take a good look."
Sylby addressed Hoffa directly.
"Enjoy the show."
(End of Chapter)
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