While panic spread through the tunnels, Victor stood in the half-light of one of the deserted rooms among lifeless bodies, unhurriedly drinking a Pepperup Potion. Draining the vial, he grimaced at the bitter taste.
— So that's how it is?.. — he muttered softly.
Having searched the memories of several slain werewolves, Victor had long since mapped out these underground labyrinths. Of the four existing exits, one they had collapsed themselves when they tried to kill him. Three remained.
— Well, that only simplifies my task, — a cold, expectant smile played on his lips.
Meanwhile, the werewolves near Dirk, battered by the sound wave, frantically clutched their ears, recovering from the deafening Sonorus.
— Hey, Dirk, have you completely lost your mind?! — one of them shouted indignantly. — Why are we abandoning everything? What, are you scared of some squirt? Yeah, he's got that giant beast, but you saw it yourself—the snake burned out and just fell asleep!
— Are you a complete idiot?! — Dirk's friend roared furiously, grabbing the troublemaker by his collar. — Didn't you see the piles of our brothers' corpses in the corridors?! That demon is hunting us! He's systematically carving through the pack one by one!
— Don't talk nonsense! — the werewolf shoved his hand away angrily. — Most likely our idiots just fought over Greyback's gold and slaughtered each other! As if that never happened before! Survival of the fittest, remember?
Dirk slowly turned his head toward the disgruntled fighter. A wild, beastly fire flared in his eyes, and a heavy, suffocating aura began to emanate from his body. The air in the cave seemed to thicken instantly.
— We. Are leaving, — Dirk stated in an icy tone that brooked no argument.
That brief warning was enough. The disgruntled werewolf immediately lost all his nerve, fearfully lowered his head, and submissively nodded.
Dozens of frightened people bolted down the surviving tunnels toward the saving exits. But at the very first fork, those running in front began to frown and slow their pace.
— What the hell... Did we mix up the cave? — they exclaimed in irritation, bumping face-first into a blank stone wall of a dead end once again.
— No way, this is definitely the right passage! I know this turn by heart! But this wall definitely wasn't here before...
One of the werewolves stepped forward in bewilderment and reached out a trembling hand. To his profound astonishment, his palm passed through solid gray stone without the slightest resistance. At that same moment, the wall before them rippled, shimmered, and rapidly melted into thin air, revealing a dark passage.
— Hey! What kind of devilry is this?! — the one who touched it shrieked in panic.
— Who cares! Let's get out of here, move!
The crowd, shoving each other with their elbows, rushed headlong into the newly opened corridor.
Victor stood calmly near the exit to the surface, lazily leaning his back against the stone wall. In the dim light of the tunnel, his Sharingan burned with a dangerous, otherworldly crimson glow.
— Oh, and here come our winners, — Victor clapped his hands cheerfully as panic-stricken cries and the trampling of many feet reached his ears. — And your prize is death.
He smiled expectantly. From his feet, wisps of fierce orange fire suddenly slithered across the ground, enveloping his body in a dense cocoon within seconds. The raging element harmed Victor not at all—the flames wound gently around him like a affectionate house cat seeking warmth.
Victor smoothly raised his hand forward. In that instant, the obedient fire surged straight to the ceiling, filling the entire width of the cave, and hurled itself down the tunnel toward the fleeing mob in a colossal wave.
The werewolves ran, anticipating how soon they would be outside, when suddenly a werewolf in the middle stripped off his stifling collar, gasping for breath:
— Hey... don't you think it's getting a bit too hot in here?
— Yeah, it's hard to breathe... Wait, where is that strange light up ahead coming from?
At the end of the dark tunnel, directly in their path, an ominous, crimson-red glow flared up, rapidly filling the entire underground space.
Seeing a solid wall of all-consuming flame rushing toward them with a roar, the werewolves skidded to a halt in horror.
— Back! Run back! Faster! — those at the front screamed frantically.
The crowd turned in panic, pushing and trampling one another. A stampede immediately broke out in the narrow stone corridor—there were too many werewolves, and the tunnel was far too narrow. One of them tripped over a ledge and fell onto the stones with a scream. No one even thought to lend him a hand—his terror-crazed kin simply ran right over his body, breaking bones.
Barely regaining his senses and turning onto his back, the unfortunate soul felt an unbearable, skin-melting heat. He looked back and froze in numb paralysis: from the raging sea of fire, a colossal snake head formed, whistling toward him and instantly swallowing him whole as it pressed forward. There were no screams, no pain—just a second's flash and swift death. The same terrible fate met everyone else attempting to flee through those tunnels in the next instant.
When the fierce roar of the flames finally died down, Victor nodded in satisfaction and unhurriedly headed for the exit. No sooner had he appeared in the opening than a spell came whistling straight for his face. Victor swayed smoothly to the side, letting the sparkling beam pass a centimeter from his ear.
— Hey, easy! It's me! — he called out loudly, stepping into the light.
Once out in the fresh air, he tilted his head back and took a deep breath with relish:
— Mmm, fresh air... Finally.
He lazily scanned the three tense wizards from Antoine's squad who were stationed at this exit with wands at the ready.
— You can relax, — Victor offered coolly, walking past them. — No one else is coming out of here for sure. Follow me, we need to check the other exits.
Antoine, together with Camille and two other wizards, was furiously peppering the dark cave entrance with spells and jinxes. In response, sparkling beams flew out from the depths of the catacombs as well, but the mercenaries held an unquestionable tactical advantage. They only needed to methodically strike the narrow entrance, while the werewolves crowded inside panicked and fired almost at random.
— Uncle Antoine, can't we just collapse the passage? I can't hold out like this much longer! — Camille complained, wiping sweat from her forehead, breathing heavily.
Antoine merely frowned grimly. Victor had given clear orders: if the enemy pressed en masse, collapse the passage. But he had decided to hold his ground. He hoped that this way his people would draw off most of the enemies, making it much easier for Victor's basilisk to clear everything out from the inside.
— Hold your positions! Just a little longer! — he commanded.
— That boy is probably dead already anyway! — Camille continued to grumble irritably, casting another spell.
— Actually, I am quite alive, — a calm, mocking voice sounded from behind the trees. — And yeah... maybe my plan failed just a tiny bit. It happens.
Victor, accompanied by six wizards, stepped unhurriedly onto the clearing.
— So, how are things going here?
Camille shuddered involuntarily as soon as her eyes fell on the youth. Something in him had changed. A cold, sticky fear washed over the girl from his mere presence alone. The cold-blooded and swift killing of dozens of werewolves had not passed without a trace: a barely noticeable, heavy bloody aura currently lingered around Victor.
— Why are you all here? — Antoine asked quickly as the arriving mercenaries fell into the battle line.
— Well... our side couldn't hold and collapsed on its own, — one of the wizards said.
— And out of our tunnel came the ki... Ahem, that is, Victor, — another added, joining Antoine and firing into the cave.
Antoine nodded silently and turned a heavy gaze upon Victor, who was contemplating something intently.
— Where is your snake? How soon will it finish?
Victor sighed heavily and scratched the back of his head in puzzlement:
— Well, it's a bit complicated with that. Long story short, the basilisk turned out to be a lousy partner. Here's a valuable lesson for you: never rely on hungry snakes. So now we're on our own.
Antoine was temporarily struck speechless, but quickly composed himself.
— Right... Okay, fall back! — he commanded the squad. — We'll seal them in.
The mercenaries prepared to break distance, but Victor stopped them with an authoritative gesture:
— Belay that retreat. I have a better idea. Hold them at this entrance for just a couple more minutes. Then seal the passage completely with a cave-in and enter through the surviving eastern tunnel. You won't mix up the way—just follow the smell of scorch marks on the walls and the burned corpses.
Having given the order, Victor immediately dissolved into a cloud of thick red smoke. Then, gliding through the spells flying back and forth, he flew inside.
The werewolves furiously shooting back from within didn't even realize that a crimson haze had swept over their heads and silently vanished into the deepest reaches of the underground labyrinth.
— What is he doing? — one of the mercenaries exclaimed.
Antoine let out a heavy sigh: it seemed Madame Flamel's grandson wasn't quite right in the head.
Dirk frowned grimly. They had been trying unsuccessfully to break out for five minutes now, and as luck would have it, he couldn't seem to Apparate—the magic was hitting an invisible wall. Not that many in the pack knew Apparition anyway, but Dirk no longer cared about the rest: he desperately wanted to save his own hide and flee this place.
— Why isn't anyone helping us from the outside? — his buddy asked out of breath, looking around frantically.
— I don't know! Either those bastards abandoned us, or they've got the same crap going on and can't get out themselves! — Dirk hissed through his teeth. Turning to those at the rear, he barked: — You two! Check the other exits, double time!
The werewolves nodded silently and sprinted to carry out the order.
— Damn it... If it turns out it's clear over there and they just ran off, I'll personally hunt every single one down and kill them! — Dirk roared madly.
However, that promise was not destined to be fulfilled. The entrance the two werewolves ran toward had collapsed on its own, burying all the wizards present under tons of stone slabs. And the second path Victor had personally turned into absolute hell, leaving no one alive who tried to burst through it.
Meanwhile, Victor himself returned to the very hall where the basilisk had performed its bloody harvest. An expectant smile shone on his face. With a light wave of his hand, he transfigured one of the stone walls, forcing it to take the shape of a majestic throne in dark crimson-black tones. Nodding in satisfaction at the result, Victor arranged ritual bowls of flared flame in a circle and, just in case, concealed a couple of lethal traps in the floor.
— Having fun? — a cheerful voice sounded right behind his back.
Victor turned unhurriedly. Standing behind him once again was his own hallucination.
— Didn't you vanish for good? — Victor smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. — Or am I scared of something again?
The copy stepped closer, inspecting the corpses of the fallen werewolves littering the floor with complete indifference.
— No. I just didn't interfere. You were far too busy.
Victor gave a short nod.
— Then why did you come back? I get that your appearance is my mind's way of helping me, but for the life of me, I don't understand what exact help I need right now. Is it because of the mass murder? Think I overdid it and shouldn't have slaughtered them?
— No, of course not! — the copy scoffed. — Naturally, their fate didn't turn out for the best, but that doesn't change what they became: a bunch of pathetic murderers and rapists.
— Well then, I'm truly at a loss. Seriously, why are you here?
— I told you: something happened. Something that shook you from the inside. And even if I try to say it out loud right now, you still won't hear it, — the double sighed wearily. — But I can assure you: it has nothing to do with this bloodshed. Believe me, I—as a projection of your innermost feelings—am incredibly glad you're back to normal. Well, I mean, normal Victor, who genuinely enjoys dominating, excelling, punishing, and chastising. You know, all these people who provoke in you...
The copy suddenly froze midsentence, its silhouette flickering with unstable ripples.
— ...Well, alright, looks like someone's coming. I won't intrude.
Victor watched grimly as the reflection dissolved into thin air. That was the second time the copy had left something vital unsaid.
However, his thoughts were interrupted by a dull, powerful explosion echoing from the upper tiers of the catacombs—Victor immediately realized that Antoine had just sealed the main exit.
— Well, time to wrap up the scene, — Victor muttered, and a predatory smile blossomed on his lips once more.