— — — — — —
"And what exactly is this 'proper course' you're talking about?" Herpo asked.
The old man didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he posed a question of his own, "Mr. Herpo, what kind of world do you ideally wish to see?"
Herpo fell silent for a moment before slowly shaking his head.
"I've never considered that question."
"The state of the world has nothing to do with me. The only thing I care about is pursuing the truth of magic."
"No matter how the world changes, magic remains unchanged—the truth of the world, its origin, which is the only thing that never changes."
The old man gave a soft chuckle. "I don't disagree with you, but…"
"Your understanding of the world seems rather shallow." He looked out over the bustling city. "And I can tell you directly that pursuing the 'truth' has become far more difficult in this era."
"The mystical has faded from sight. Muggles have pushed their exploration of the world to unprecedented heights. They no longer believe in the power of miracles."
"It wasn't like this in previous eras. Back then, Muggles also sought to improve their lives through external means, but they still believed that the world was filled with gods and miracles. Now? It's all just stories and movies to them."
Herpo frowned. "And why should that matter? As wizards, we only need to concern ourselves with our own existence. Why should we care what a bunch of Muggle scum think?"
"That's precisely the interesting part." An amused smile appeared on the old man's face. "The gods are the beings closest to the Truth. And yet their existence depends on those muggles who stand furthest from it."
"Only when Muggles believe there are forces beyond their understanding will they place their faith in intangible miracles. Even the god who saved you, the Feathered Serpent Quetzalcoatl, is no exception."
"He needs fertile ground to return. If this once-in-a-thousand-years opportunity is missed, then He, along with the others like Him, will be buried forever."
Herpo's brows knitted together. He understood the old man's objective now.
But understanding it only raised more questions.
"You've already inherited a great deal of Aztec knowledge. So for someone like you, wouldn't a half-dead Quetzalcoatl be the ideal Quetzalcoatl?"
"..."
"Mr Herpo, knowledge is important." The old man began walking, leading Herpo toward the Woolworth Building. "But the environment is even more important."
"Mr. Herpo, in your own era, you were unquestionably the strongest wizard alive. But if you were placed in today's world..."
He paused, "...Would you still be?"
"Let's set aside that strange witch who calls herself Jeanne d'Arc. She's not the key issue."
A trace of seriousness flashed through his eyes.
"Tom Riddle and that bizarre pet of his are the true threat."
"You and I are already standing against him. That domineering little brat won't tolerate our existence."
At the mention of one of the darker episodes of his past, killing intent flickered through Herpo's eyes, "Is Riddle really as powerful as you claim?"
"I don't know." The old man's answer came without hesitation. "He's acted only a handful of times, but every display of power has been impossible to measure."
"Setting everything else aside, the mere fact that he can command that near-divine creature proves he is anything but ordinary."
"Then..." Herpo asked the final question lingering in his mind, "Are you certain you can control the Quetzalcoatl?"
The old man shook his head, "Mr. Herpo, this isn't about control. The great Quetzalcoatl and I are equal partners. He will teach me everything He knows, and in the Divine Plane of the future, He will reserve a place for me."
A hint of longing appeared in his eyes. "Perhaps I may even have a chance to become a god one day—endless lifespan, endless power."
Herpo studied him for a long moment and sneered inwardly at the word "endless," but he didn't show it. He continued, "Enough talk. Tell me what you need me to do."
"As thanks for having Quetzalcoatl help you recover from your weakened state so quickly, you will use your power for us three times."
Herpo stared at the old man. "I already agreed to that."
"Then let the first be today, Mr Herpo." A smile spread across the old man's face. "Allow me to witness the might of the greatest dark wizard of this era."
"I wonder... can your power reach across the richest city in the world?"
"How many people need to die?" Herpo asked calmly. "Just Manhattan, or do you want the whole of New York?"
His hood began fluttering as magic surged through his body.
"No one needs to die. We've already reached an agreement with the Muggle government. Everyone will be working together for a brighter future." The old man shook his head with a kind smile but didn't say anything else.
Herpo snorted, "Heh, you're a remarkably hypocritical man."
With that, he finally moved.
He spread his arms wide. Streams of black liquid poured from the sleeves of his robes, flooding the streets below before creeping upward along the sides of nearby buildings.
Eventually, the dark tide began climbing toward the top of the Woolworth Building.
...
..
Meanwhile, in Dalaran, the competition had reached its most intense stage yet.
Every contestant was using every trick they knew to approach the Magic Tower at the city's center.
At first, things hadn't been too difficult. The city's many buildings provided ample cover from the pursuing alchemical constructs.
These constructs only defended their assigned sectors. Once a contestant crossed into another district, the pursuit would end and a new patrol would take over.
But the closer they got to Karazhan Magic Tower, the tighter security became.
In addition to the standard constructs, small surveillance drones now filled the sky, constantly tracking their movements.
Even Disillusionment Charms couldn't fool the drones.
As a result, every contestant found themselves being hunted by larger and larger forces.
There were enemies in front and behind, with nowhere to breathe.
At this stage, raw strength finally became the deciding factor.
The first to fall were Jauncey and Nassim. Just one kilometer from the tower, they were surrounded by more than a dozen constructs.
The constructs confiscated their wands. Then, for good measure, subjected them to a thoroughly merciless beating.
Only after confirming that neither contestant had any ability left to resist did the constructs produce special ropes and tie them up like prisoners.
Yet while they were being eliminated, another contestant suddenly rose to prominence.
Quinta.
The girl from Castelobruxo had remained near the back of the pack for most of the competition.
Everything changed after reaching Dalaran. Transforming into a giant hawk, she flew at speeds comparable to a broomstick and completely ignored the constructs patrolling the streets below.
The aerial drones possessed offensive capabilities, but Quinta was simply too fast. And far too agile.
In one stunning move, she overtook Fleur, Daphne, and the rest of the field.
She reached the Magic Tower almost simultaneously with Ariana.
But she still didn't stop.
With a powerful beat of her wings, she soared even higher.
Judging by her trajectory, she intended to fly straight to the very top of the tower, enter through the highest level, seize the Triwizard Cup, and claim victory outright.
The moment the audience saw what she was attempting, countless spectators leaped to their feet.
Cheers erupted throughout the arena as everyone shouted encouragement.
The competition had finally entered its decisive moment.
A winner would soon be crowned.
.
.
.