The enormous explosion burst forth behind them, spewing scorching shockwaves and debris from the warehouse entrance, lighting up the night sky in a wavering orange-red.
Within just a few seconds, the entire warehouse was engulfed in a surging sea of flames, devouring all life inside.
The shackles on Abigail's hands had already been removed, and she was given a bottle of antidote potion, so her strength was gradually returning.
She leaned unsteadily against a tree, her face pale as she gazed at the golden-red blaze, unable to look away for a long time.
On the other side, the Witch Pure Party members were retreating one after another, bringing with them Liayana and the materials, instruments, potions, and so on, found elsewhere.
Below the abandoned factory, they discovered three whole layers of secret laboratories. The Witch Pure Party members charged inside, slaughtering everyone inside with overwhelming force, rescuing about twelve or thirteen people.
Abigail even saw a familiar face among them—
That was a key member of the Witch Pure Party, fiercely loyal to the former leader, Thorne, thus very dissatisfied with Bloren's usurpation of power, and had made many radical statements in the organization.
One day, he had suddenly disappeared. The organization's story was that he was sent by Bloren on a secret mission to Africa, essentially banished to the frontier.
It turned out that this place was the so-called "Africa."
The once strong Scourer had clearly endured immense suffering here, reduced to skin and bones, unable to walk on his own.
He had once been a resolute, fearless warrior, but now his eyes held no trace of hatred for wizards, only fear and gratitude for finally being rescued.
When he saw the moon overhead, this six-foot-three man even covered his face and began to sob uncontrollably.
Abigail did not step out to reunite with him, she simply hid behind a tree and silently watched him being taken away.
As long as his identity as a Scourer wasn't exposed, by the Witch Pure Party's custom, he would be sent to a nearby Muggle hospital for treatment, with even part of the initial medical fees covered.
These Death-wielding wizards, in fact, understood the basic rules of Muggle society better than most Aurors and Half-Blood Wizards.
Abigail also overheard two Witch Pure Party members talking as they passed her:
"Not bad this time, we rescued five more people than last time."
"Did you record it all?"
"Of course."
"By the way, the opening scene… should we play it?"
"Cut out the explosion part, most people don't like slaughter."
"Ridiculous mercy. When they become experiments themselves, they'll realize that killing them like this is already the cheapest way to deal with those people!"
Abigail lowered her eyes, remaining silent.
Bringing along the supplies, the Witch Pure Party members couldn't easily Apparate, so trucks drove out from the factory, while the remaining people were crammed into two cars.
Meanwhile, the rescued injured were taken away by a colorful bus.
...
In a place further from the warehouse, Delaine was conversing quietly with the legendary heir.
"Retreat together?"
Braun shook his head, still wearing that unfathomable relaxed expression:
"You guys go back first, on my side… there's still a little matter to handle."
Delaine's gaze fell on Abigail, still in poor condition under the tree, filled with scrutiny and questions.
Braun said matter-of-factly: "As for this person, I'll stay behind. She used to be a professor at Hogwarts, you understand, right?"
"I heard Vid once transferred some poppets to her, and they've never been returned," Delaine said.
Braun shrugged: "There is such a thing... My master can indeed be overly generous at times."
"So you should understand," Delaine stared into his eyes, saying: "That woman knows very well that poppets… can be made exactly like real people."
Braun's smile slightly faded, and he said: "Keeping her isn't my idea."
The implication being that it was Vid's order.
So Delaine no longer questioned Abigail's status but asked:
"Just now that..."
He briefly waved his hand, making a gesture of an assassin.
"—also his decision?"
"Well…" Braun chuckled: "As a subordinate, sometimes you have to take the initiative to solve problems for your superiors, right?"
Delaine nodded ambiguously, already used to Braun's independent style.
But before leaving, he left a remark:
"If you don't want to be collectively destroyed, you'd better measure your limits, don't keep making decisions on your own accord."
A person with their own ideas, compared to a tool with its own ideas, undoubtedly the latter feels more dangerous.
If this continues, even if Vid trusts his poppets, Mr. Grindelwald may not allow certain poppets to continue existing.
Without waiting for Braun's response, Delaine decisively turned and promptly left with a group of Witch Pure Party members, evacuating the scene quickly.
Exhaust-spewing trucks disappeared from view, in a blink, leaving only Braun, Abigail, and the burning ruins at the scene.
Braun walked toward Abigail, his gaze flickering slightly as if considering how to deal with this unexpected "spoils of war."
Abigail looked up and asked, "Why go to such lengths? Shouldn't people be kept for interrogation? Or locked in prison..."
She didn't consider this "mercy," because even if it's not Azkaban, prisons in the magic world are by no means pleasant, for many people, going to prison is scarier than death.
But compared to outright killing, a criminal being imprisoned is a result that's more acceptable both psychologically and publicly.
Braun said: "There's no need, those people are mere tools of their leaders, they won't possess any useful information, instead, they'll just waste our time."
"And for humanity, the scariest, most challenging thing in the world is death. Executing people directly achieves the outcome I need. Imprisoning them just leads to more variables."
"This result, is that what you wanted..." Abigail murmured as she repeated, then said: "So, were my and Glanwhite's actions also within your expectations?"
"Oh, this is actually a pleasant surprise."
Braun turned, with a half-smile, saying:
"Wrightford usually stays holed up in her 'turtle shell,' surrounded by layers of guards, or she's with many Muggles, so it's hard for me to find an unnoticed opportunity to act."
"Only by creating a situation she believes to be 'absolutely safe,' with an 'important prey' as bait, would she willingly leave that shell, stepping within our reach."
"Thanks to you, my plan didn't turn into a clumsy show."
His lips curled into a smile devoid of warmth.
"As for those buried with the dead… it's just a matter of cleaning up the battlefield. Now, we've acquired the goal we wanted, the process was rough, but the result is perfect, isn't it?"
Abigail looked at him, reflexively taking a step back, as if distancing herself from him could escape that suffocating indifference.
She wasn't an innocent girl; she had personally caused many deaths and witnessed all sorts of horrors.
But at this moment, Abigail still felt a profound, soul-deep unfamiliarity and fear.
This approach, stopping at nothing to achieve goals while treating human lives like grass, made her deeply aware of the dangerous beings she was dealing with.