Chapter 216: Hawke's Rage
"He didn't kill anyone. Not a single person died."
Maxime's voice was flat, almost numb, as she answered. "He had planned everything he was going to do before he even arrived. He wasn't just locating Martin and the others; he was locating every single Muggle agent... then he avoided them, protected them..."
The blast site before her, spanning perhaps one or two kilometers in diameter, was incomprehensible and unacceptable to her.
She had heard that Ryan stood on a completely new level, a level he called "Grand Sorcerer"—the strongest type of wizard that could appear in an era without legendary figures.
But she was supposedly only a little bit below that level. Could that "little bit" explain the difference between her capabilities and this terrifying destruction?
She asked herself, but no matter how many times she asked, the answer was always no.
She looked at Ryan and saw he wasn't even out of breath. He was leaning against a tree, looking somewhat lazy.
Noticing the gazes of Maxime and Fleur, Ryan waved his wand. Unconscious wizards were whooshed over from somewhere and then transported out of the blast zone to prevent them from being scalded to death by the high temperatures. "These people were knocked out by the shockwave. I wiped their memories and ensured they didn't die in the explosion just now."
He glanced at the Magi-Metal Wizards, who looked ready to kneel and worship him. "As for you, I won't wipe your memories, but perhaps someone will come to check them later. Be careful yourselves. Having your memories read isn't important; what's important is that you live well and grow into capable wizards."
Martin wanted to express his feelings—after all, anyone seeing a god-like being in front of them would have feelings.
But Ryan didn't give him the chance. He turned straight to Dumbledore. "Headmaster, I think we should go back and investigate who exactly was pushing things behind the scenes, leading these Magi-Metal Wizards to be bewitched into broadcasting their situation and getting a group of people caught."
Dumbledore agreed. First, he sent the Magi-Metal Wizards, Maxime, Fleur, and Quirrell back to Beauxbatons.
After exchanging a few simple pleasantries with Maxime, he grabbed Ryan and vanished on the spot.
"Too terrifying... and too charming," Fleur murmured to herself.
"Ryan is indeed... too terrifying, too terrifying." Quirrell nodded repeatedly. Facing the scene of a sun crashing to earth, he couldn't even pretend to be knowledgeable. He had genuinely never seen anything like this. Even if Beauxbatons people saw it, he could only admit his ignorance.
"You only saw the surface. In fact, the stronger one was Dumbledore..." Maxime suffered a double blow: her student couldn't compare, and she as Headmistress couldn't compare either. "Ryan didn't spare the effort to move us. It was Dumbledore who used a protective magic similar to the Disillusionment Charm to block that devastating impact..."
The Magi-Metal Wizards had experienced the greatest ups and downs of their lives, and the greatest shock.
As far as Martin was concerned, if anyone dared tell him the wizarding world was inferior to the Muggle world again, he would rush up and slap them twice immediately.
The astonishing power of this magic convinced Martin, who had lived in the ordinary world for many years, that wizards were unstoppable.
He had realized a truth in his impoverished life, a truth belonging to "zero-dollar shopping."
That day, he was working as a cashier. Even though there was a gun under the counter, and the robber—a humanoid creature with a natural racial talent for invisibility at night—didn't have a gun, Martin still got "zero-dollar shopped."
Because by the time he pulled out the gun, the robber, aided by their racial talent, had vanished beautifully into the night, getting away scot-free. In the end, Martin was fired by his angry boss and had to find another job.
From that moment, he knew mobility was far more important than destructive power or lethality. No matter how powerful the weapon or devastating the strike, it was useless if it couldn't hit the target.
Facing the god-like skills of wizards, Martin didn't know how Muggles without magic could win.
Moreover, Martin remembered clearly what Ryan said before leaving: Live well, grow well.
There was no mention of the Statute of Secrecy, causing trouble, or other reprimands.
Tonight is truly bright... He looked happily at the small building next to Beauxbatons, secretly hoping class hadn't ended yet. Once Madame Maxime dismissed them, he hoped to catch the tail end of the lecture.
Unlike Martin, the small clique represented by Hawke felt differently.
Hawke realized that today, as if possessed, he had let all the negative emotions accumulating in his heart explode. He had indeed fantasized about the speech he gave today, imagining himself as a destined protagonist who would bridge the magical and ordinary worlds, reaching the pinnacle and becoming a figure who could command the wind and rain.
But he never had the courage or guts to put it into action...
Not only did he lack the guts, but in his impression, the people he incited to stand with him shouldn't have had the guts to respond either. Yet, they all did!
Usually, these people accepted his small favors and, in private gatherings, gradually voiced dissatisfaction with wizards and Muggles, believing their group bridging two worlds was the most special. But that was just drunken talk.
He looked at his lackeys and saw them trembling, left with nothing but fear.
Since acquiring his family business through unconventional means and founding a factory, Hawke's nights had been spent in brightly lit homes, hotels, and halls. He had never felt the sky so dark before.
"Headmistress, what should we do with these people?" Quirrell's question sounded like the whisper of the Reaper to Hawke and the others.
"Ryan said before he left to let them grow well, to become useful wizards," Maxime said. "In that case, their future depends on themselves. We are an academy; we are only responsible for teaching and educating. We can only be responsible for teaching and educating; we cannot interfere further."
"Of course, we still need to understand the specific situation."
She addressed Martin and the others. "Gentlemen, why don't you tell us what exactly happened?"
Hearing Maxime's words, Hawke and his group received the news they most hoped for. Their expressions shifted instantly from panic and tension to joy and excitement.
Upon hearing Maxime's inquiry, Hawke wanted to speak up immediately to shirk his responsibility.
But Maxime had long judged from their expressions that they were problematic. She cut straight to the point: "Mr. Martin, please tell us."
Hawke's heart sank again, and resentment rose within him. He didn't understand why so many people stopped him when he just wanted to shirk unnecessary responsibility and enjoy what he deserved!
He learned magic with his own ability! Why couldn't he use it?! Why couldn't he show it off?!
Just like he was a factory owner, he naturally should treat those bottom-feeders with unsatisfactory lives as amusement!
Just wait. One day... The expression on his face became increasingly respectful, but inside, venomous snakes were biting.
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