Chapter 21 - Chapter 18 : Zona Morta.

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Third Person POV

Adam's steps were slow now, careful.

The path narrowed.

The trees of the Forbidden Forest pressed close to his right, their branches gnarled like twisted arms, bending low as if whispering among themselves. Some cracked gently under their own weight, spilling a thick black resin that clung to the bark like blood. Shadows wove between the trunks like smoke, living and slow.

To his left, the Black Lake rippled unnaturally, despite there being no wind. Its surface had gone glass-smooth again, but reflections there didn't match the sky above—it was as if the water was showing another world. Behind him, the lights of Hogwarts had vanished, swallowed by mist.

The deeper Adam walked, the quieter the world became.

Even the frogs had fallen silent. The buzzing of insects stopped. No owls hooted. No rustle of underbrush. The only sound was the soft scrape of his boots against the age-worn stone and the—

> "Adam…"

His breath caught.

That wasn't just a whisper now.

It was a voice—female, barely audible, brushing past his ear like a silk thread pulled too tight.

And familiar.

Not from the system. Not from the castle. Not from dreams.

> "Please… help me."

Adam's eyes narrowed. His pace slowed again, fingers tightening around the handle of his wand inside his sleeve.

The path veered into a small clearing.

Here, the moon broke through the clouds just enough to spill silver light across the space, bathing the ground in pale clarity.

And there—standing just at the edge of the clearing, one foot half on the path, the other in the grass—was a figure.

Slim.

Still.

Shoulders trembling.

Long dark hair caught in the breeze like threads of ink.

Her robes rippled faintly with motion, though her face was bowed, hidden behind the dark veil of her hair.

Adam stopped cold.

He couldn't breathe for a moment.

Something in him knew this figure before logic did.

Some instinct. Some memory. Some tangle of emotion he thought he'd buried beneath system notifications and study hours.

His voice came out before he could stop it—half whisper, half question:

> "Cho…?"

The figure didn't move.

Adam blinked, jaw tightening. His voice rose slightly, not out of anger—but confusion. Worry.

> "What are you doing here… at this time?"

He took a slow step forward, squinting through the moonlight.

The girl didn't answer.

But her head tilted slightly, as if hearing him for the first time but she was asking for help ?

Still, no words. No movement. Just… that strange stillness. Her posture was too rigid. Too posed. Not like someone lost or frightened.

Adam's instincts, those that had saved him more than once during past magical mishaps, now stirred violently in his chest.

His wand hand twitched.

> Something's wrong.

A gust of wind surged from the lake—cold and sharp—fluttering the girl's robes.

For the first time, Adam noticed something else.

Her feet weren't touching the ground like her soul was taking to the unknown.

___________

Adam didn't move.

Couldn't.

The cold from the lake was nothing compared to the cold rising in his chest.

His breath came shallow. Fingers stiff. The hairs on his arms and neck stood upright as if gripped by an unseen current.

The girl—Cho, or whatever this thing was—still hovered a few inches above the moonlit grass. Motionless. Silent. Staring now, with eyes that hadn't been visible before. But in this angle… he saw them.

Black. Too black. Empty, but full of pressure. Like looking into a void that looked back.

His lips parted, but no sound came.

His body screamed to move—to run—but his legs felt nailed to the ground.

> "I am not afraid."

That was the lie he told himself.

But the tremor in his chest told another story.

He had always been the guy who laughed when was crying. He had always been the one who makes jokes about death and what comes after . He always made fun of emotions and people being under the choice of their feelings. He always believed that no matter what happened and no matter what he would face all these would represent the absurdity of living and wasting time .

But this?

This silence. This being. This moment…

It felt holy. Or worse—

Judged.

For the first time, Adam felt the frightening proximity of the divine.

Not the kind sung about in church hymns or cradled in warm candlelight.

This was older.

Colder.

Impersonal.

Exact.

And he understood—deeply, terribly—that what he was doing, what he had demanded when he prayed to the system, when he chose justice as his path, when he spit in the face of the absurd world…

It had not gone unnoticed.

> The God is watching now.

Not as gentle protectors.

Not as storytellers weaving happy endings.

But as judges.

And the Justice Adam thought was his to carry—like some personal toy or theatrical mask—wasn't a tool.

It was a burden.

He staggered one step back, the weight of that revelation pressing down like stone on his shoulders.

> "This isn't a game," he whispered.

"It was never a game…"

All those days in the library, building spells like toys. All those times he shrugged off morality with sarcastic thoughts about fate and human delusions. All the times he laughed in his head at professors who still believed in right or wrong, good or evil.

All of it—

Foolish.

Arrogant.

Dangerous.

Because now he saw it clearly:

> Justice is not a word.

It is a blade.

And someone is always holding it—over your throat.

Adam's hands trembled.

And still the girl stared.

No sound.

No movement.

Just those dark eyes and that ancient silence.

He took another step back—and for the first time in his life, he felt small.

Not as a student. Not as a rebel. Not as a vessel for some clever system mechanics.

But as a speck.

Caught in something vast and eternal.

And the Game of God had just begun.

The trials ahead wouldn't be simple tasks or silly quests with XP and flashy rewards.

> The choices he made now…

The lives he touched…

The justice he dispensed…

Would have real cost.

> The absurd had rules, after all.

And those rules were written in blood, shadow… and consequence.

He straightened slowly.

His fear didn't vanish.

But something else kindled in him now—darker, sharper.

A flame laced with purpose.

He took a breath.

Looked up at the figure—still hovering. Still watching.

And in a voice that cracked like dry thunder, he muttered:

> "Then watch, Gods.

I'll give you a show worth judging."

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Adam's eyes flicked from the floating girl—no, the tormented girl—to the parasitic thing that clung to her aura like rot on silk.

The shadow pulsed now with a rhythm. Not visible… not tangible… but felt. It was feeding. Growing.

And it fed on her.

Cho's breathing was shallow and broken, her arms trembling, her lips murmuring something inaudible—repeating it again and again in a daze, like a spell of her own fear:

> "I… I can't breathe… I can't…"

The creature clung to her like a second skin of ink, tightening its grasp with every heartbeat of terror.

Adam clenched his jaw.

He couldn't attack it. Not yet.

If he did, he might hurt her. And worse—if anyone heard or sensed anything magical happening so close to the Forbidden Forest at this hour…

Snape. Dumbledore. Even Filch might notice.

He wasn't ready to explain this.

This wasn't a school duel. This was war.

His hand gripped the wand tighter.

And then he remembered.

> The spell.

One of the earliest granted by the System—"Silencio."

Normally used to silence a voice, to mute sound in duel practice.

But what if…

His thoughts raced—and he called the System mentally, as if invoking a presence more ancient than magic itself.

> "Can I modify the Silencio spell?

Make it extend around me… a dome where sound doesn't exist?

Something only I control?"

The glowing blue screen blinked into view just before him, hovering like a ghostly flame.

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[ SYSTEM – SKILL MODIFICATION REQUESTED ]

Base Spell: Silencio

Requested Form: Zona Morta – Localized Absolute Silence (Radius: 10 meters)

System Permission: GRANTED

Mana Cost: 33% of Current Reserve

Warning: Zona Morta creates a supernatural void of sound. Time perception may shift. Sensory dissonance may occur.

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Adam smirked, a flicker of confidence threading into the tension gripping his chest.

> "Perfect."

He pointed his wand toward the soil beneath him. The moonlight cast long shadows through the trees, the lake rippled behind like black glass, and the creature hovered still—feeding, feeding, feeding.

> "Silencio: Zona Morta."

His voice echoed once—

—then was gone.

Gone.

Everything went utterly still.

The chirp of the crickets vanished.

The rustling leaves? Silent.

Even the wind stopped sounding like wind.

No sound. No footstep. No whisper.

Just a dead, eerie, paralyzing quiet—like the world had inhaled and forgotten to exhale.

Even Cho's panicked breathing? Muted.

Even the creature's dreadful hum? Gone.

Time felt slower here. Like molasses pulling at the seconds. The moonlight shimmered oddly. Adam could see his own pulse beating in his wrist—feel the weight of time stretching unnaturally. As if reality itself had shifted to watch.

He stood now inside a bubble of death-like silence.

And in that silence… the trial began.

No distractions.

No interruptions.

Only three remained in this hollowed-out slice of time:

> Adam.

The girl who was still human.

And the shadow that shouldn't exist.

He turned to Cho—her body rigid, eyes wide, lips moving in wordless fear. Her fists were clenched tight, knuckles white. She looked trapped in her own terror, spiraling deeper into the emotional current the entity fed from.

Adam's expression hardened.

He realized it now.

The shadow wasn't hurting her directly. It didn't need to. It only needed her fear. It was clinging to it. Amplifying it. Becoming it.

If he wanted to rip the creature from her…

> He had to sever its food source.

Her emotions.

He walk slowly to her, as gently as possible, keeping his movements calm and visible. His wand was still drawn, but pointed away.

Then, placing his free hand to her shoulder, he whispered—

Or rather, spoke with no sound, trusting she could read the sincerity in his eyes:

> "You're not alone."

"Breathe."

"Focus on me."

She blinked. A flicker of recognition but still capturedand not answering.

He nodded.

> "Forget the shadow."

"Think of someone you love."

"You're safe."

For a second, her chest moved.

Slow.

Then again.

The tension in her arms softened.

The ink around her spine shuddered. Reacting.

Adam narrowed his eyes.

> It didn't like that.

Good.

He placed both hands now just above her temples—still not touching, just radiating presence, will, power.

> "I need you, Cho," he mouthed clearly, slowly.

"Let it go."

And as if the words were spells of their own, Cho's expression shifted from panic… to confusion… to something else.

Hope?

A tear ran down her cheek.

And the moment it did—the shadow recoiled.

The silence deepened.

Like the air itself froze in holy anticipation.

Adam rose to his feet, now focused fully on the dark thing trying to pull itself deeper into Cho's body.

His wand lifted slowly.

> The silence was perfect.

The moment was sacred.

The time had slowed.

> The judgment was about to begin.

[ End of Chapter ].

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IF YOU WANT TO READ MORE ABOUT MY WORKS OR JUST TO SUPPORT ME THEN HERE IS MY PATREON:

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