Dudley thought he wouldn't get angry anymore, at least not like this. Not angry enough to want to kill someone.
After all, he was someone who had lived another lifetime. What scenes hadn't he witnessed? Compared to that bizarre world, the events in this magical realm were just small-scale troubles.
Yet despite everything, Dudley found himself consumed by rage. All because of this creature called Voldemort.
Bang!
A thunderous crash echoed through the forest as Norbert was blasted away by tremendous force, landing in the nearby pond with a mournful cry. The young dragon had given everything he had. For an underage fire dragon to delay an adult wizard this long was already remarkable.
"Now, there are no more obstacles," Quirrell said, glancing dismissively at Norbert before turning his cold gaze toward Dudley.
"I'm very curious why you didn't run. Did you choose to sacrifice yourself for Harry? What a noble cousin! Just like that foolish woman years ago."
Quirrell's tone dripped with mocking contempt. His speech no longer carried its previous stutter and had become terrifyingly smooth. The submissive look was gone, replaced by something cold and predatory.
"I'm not running because you've angered me," Dudley replied with supernatural calm.
His face showed almost no expression, but anyone who truly knew him would recognize the storm brewing beneath that absolute tranquility.
"Oh?" Quirrell seemed surprised by the response. "How amusing. Getting angry and staying behind to die... I thought highly of you before, considering your talent exceptional. Now I see you're no different from those other fools."
He raised his wand with casual confidence. Just one spell would eliminate this irritating boy.
"No, I'm not staying behind to die," Dudley said, his voice still eerily calm. "I'm staying behind to kill someone."
The spiritual power within him had been completely mobilized. Black Emperor Sequence 7 Briber, Arbiter Sequence 7 Interrogator... the abilities of both pathways converged on Dudley at this moment.
"Hah?" Quirrell raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Overestimating yourself, aren't you?"
"Today, you and Voldemort will both die," Dudley declared in an ice-cold voice.
His presence had already begun building as he approached step by step. Even without using beyonder abilities, the opposing wizard could feel an overwhelming sense of oppression.
"Avada..." Quirrell's expression tightened as he began the killing curse.
"Quirrell, let me have a word with him." Suddenly, a hoarse, low voice emerged from the back of Quirrell's head.
"Master, you..." Quirrell's body trembled slightly.
"I'm fine," Voldemort said slowly.
"Yes." Quirrell didn't dare say more. After glancing at Dudley, he turned around, presenting his back.
At this moment, Dudley finally got a clear view of the ugly, squeezed-together face imprinted on the back of Quirrell's skull.
"Dudley Dursley, Harry Potter's cousin. I never expected your talent to be so exceptional. You've thwarted my plans twice now." The face spoke with disturbing calm. "I appreciate you."
"Now, I can offer you a chance to follow me. Together, we could achieve great things. How about it?"
"As long as you're willing to submit to me, I won't kill you. Instead, I'll teach you unimaginable magic. I can show you how to enhance your reputation, achieve glorious power, become a wizard others fear, even how to conquer death itself..."
"All of this can be yours, if only you kneel before me."
Voldemort's words carried seductive power. He watched Dudley intently, anticipating his answer. Rather than simply killing the boy, he craved seeing such talent kneeling at his feet, serving him, fearing him, worshipping him.
"If what you call conquering death means being half-alive like you are now, then forget it," Dudley replied coolly. "The so-called Dark Lord is worse than a sewer worm at this point. Looking like that, you still want to recruit me? Utterly ridiculous."
As his words fell, Dudley had closed to within five meters of Quirrell. At this range, his beyonder abilities and even close combat skills could be perfectly utilized. All that conversation had been to prevent Voldemort from escaping.
"Kill him!" Voldemort snarled.
Since recruitment was impossible, death would have to suffice. Someone like Dudley absolutely could not be allowed to continue existing.
"Avada..." Quirrell had been ready. The instant Voldemort gave the command, he spun around and began chanting the killing curse.
Boom!
A terrifying, oppressive force exploded from Dudley's body, directly suppressing Quirrell and making his legs buckle, nearly forcing him to kneel. This authority seemed almost tangible, as if Dudley could end his life with a mere thought. Fear flooded Quirrell's heart, an overwhelming terror that made him want to prostrate himself in worship without even considering resistance.
"Kill him!" Voldemort roared again.
He sensed the abnormality. The same supernatural pressure that mysterious phantom had wielded during the Gringotts battle. He had never known who that figure was or where it came from, but now he understood. That being who called himself the Night Emperor was connected to Dudley.
"Avada..." Under Voldemort's fury, Quirrell barely maintained his sanity and resumed chanting the killing curse.
"Whip of Pain!" The ancient Hermes language rang out as the Interrogator's beyonder ability activated.
"Ahhhhh!" Quirrell's agonized scream echoed through the forest. He felt unimaginable spiritual torment, as if electric currents coursed through his soul, forming barbed whips that continuously lashed his consciousness. The sensation originated from deep within his mind, impossible to resist, leaving him trembling and weak.
"Reducto!" As his beyonder ability took hold, Dudley cast magic directly using Hermes language. Without any preliminary wand movement, pure destructive force blasted toward Quirrell.
Bang!
Quirrell was hurled through the air, blood streaming from multiple wounds. His left arm completely shattered, exploding into a crimson mist. If Voldemort hadn't reacted quickly enough to provide warning, that single blow would have been enough to end the fight.
Dudley suddenly slammed his foot against the ground, clenched his right fist, and charged directly at Quirrell while he was still airborne with no way to gain leverage.
"Protego..." Quirrell desperately tried to shield himself.
"Mental Piercing!" At the same time, Dudley concentrated his mental power into an invisible spear that drove straight toward Quirrell's spirit.