"How dare you—!"
Many stories begin with predictable endings, and the eerie underworld suddenly howled in anger, sharp and wild as a werewolf beneath a full moon.
"Joking—"
Three seconds after drinking the confusion potion, the old wizard convulsed violently. The pustules and sores across his bald head turned from red to purple, then black. His flesh began to boil like a potion nearing explosion, and the growths on his face twisted and writhed as if desperate to tear themselves free of his skin.
"Great—!"
The old wizard roared in fury, his trembling tone revealing the rage burning inside him. He raised a short, thick staff crowned with a gemstone, intent on striking back at the man who had deceived him.
But it was a pity—he had forgotten that in his current state, his magic was completely unstable. Casting a spell only made his corrupted magic spiral further out of control. He was like a wax figurine melting over flame, his body dissolving from head to toe in an instant.
In the blink of an eye, the man who had been standing just moments ago had turned into a puddle of black sludge on the ground.
"Sorry, great… what was that again?"
The thin, bamboo-like wizard who had traded with him sneered. He scooped up the lump of mithril from the table and tucked it into his robe. Then, crouching beside the heap of pus, he retrieved the old wizard's staff, inspecting the ruby tip under the floating torchlight.
Even through his hood, Amosta could sense the satisfaction radiating from him.
The thin wizard noticed Amosta's gaze. He turned his head sharply, scowling, his tone dripping with contempt.
"In this place, greed and curiosity can both get you killed, Golden Viper. Don't think tearing apart a few guard dogs makes everyone fear you."
Amosta smiled coldly. He lowered his head and stared deeply at the glowing mixture still on the table. After a long pause, a deep, hoarse voice came from beneath his hood.
"Thank you for the advice, Mr. Liar. But you seem to have forgotten something. Aside from greed and curiosity—carelessness is also fatal."
"What?"
Before the thin wizard could react, a black shadow with scarlet eyes suddenly burst from the puddle of pus. The apparition, grim and towering like the god of death, floated in midair and howled fiercely at the bamboo-like wizard.
"Hug death with me, you shameless fool!"
The shadow was far beyond the man's comprehension. Panic seized him—he turned to flee. But alas, every inch of the underground world was bound by anti-Apparition enchantments. The nearest fireplace was half a mile away.
Before he could even reach the low granite wall, the massive, ghostly figure had caught up, swooped down, and swallowed him whole with a bloody, fanged mouth—along with his strangled scream.
*Creak, creak, creak—*
The sound of gnashing teeth echoed through the air. Blood, mixed with white bone fragments and clotted brain matter, splattered onto the ground like a stream. The thick, metallic stench made Amosta frown slightly.
The old wizard's Death form was merely a final flare of defiance—an echo of vengeance that could not last.
Having completed its retribution, the shadow flickered faintly. Before fading entirely, it turned toward Amosta, resentment lacing its hoarse voice.
"You knew that was fake—and you didn't warn me!"
"Why blame others for your stupidity?" Amosta said coldly. "If I grow interested in your current form, I might keep you in a glass bottle for decades before sending you to hell. So leave while you still can."
The shade had no answer. After sighing helplessly, it glanced one last time at the surroundings it had known, before dissolving completely into nothingness.
A few bystanders had noticed the disturbance, but none showed surprise or dared come closer. As the thin wizard had said, in this lawless place, excessive curiosity could kill you at any time.
A streak of silver light flashed in the gloom. Amosta summoned the mithril orb—with fresh tooth marks still visible—from the bloodied ground, cleaned it, and tucked it neatly into his robes, his expression calm and satisfied.
With a crisp snap of his fingers, the black sludge of the old wizard and the remnants of the thin man ignited in a golden flame. In a few breaths, the fire consumed everything, leaving the ground spotless—erasing the last trace of both men from the world.
"Since you've taken another man's belongings, it's only proper to handle his funeral," Amosta muttered. "Consider it common courtesy."
"Seems like I missed quite the show, Mr. Golden Viper?"
Amosta turned toward the voice. Standing beneath a large commission sign was a middle-aged wizard with blond hair, black eyes, and a relaxed smile.
"Perhaps," Amosta replied evenly. "Or perhaps you just escaped trouble by sheer luck."
The newcomer—Cacus Foley—was a small-time but well-known broker in the underworld. He hailed from the ancient Foley family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.
Long ago, the Foley family had stood proudly among Britain's most distinguished wizarding houses. At its peak, its head had even served as Minister of Magic.
But fate turned against them. Hector Foley, the Minister of Magic in those days, lacked foresight and ignored Albus Dumbledore's warnings. He failed to grasp how dangerous the first Dark Lord, Gellert Grindelwald, would become—to Britain and to the entire European wizarding world.
As a result, after tragedy struck, the "angry wizards" ousted Hector from office.
Stripped of power and protection, the Foley family suffered grievous losses and gradually vanished from wizarding high society.
For generations, the declining family sought to reclaim its former glory but met failure after failure. At the end of every path stood an untouchable figure: Albus Dumbledore himself.
It was not that Dumbledore bore them any grudge; he simply could not erase the world's memory of Hector's failure. To most in the magical community, it was Hector's arrogance that had led to so many deaths in the war against Grindelwald.
Fifty years had passed. The Foley family's bitterness had cooled—but Dumbledore still lived.
And now, those who ruled the Ministry treated the old headmaster with wariness bordering on fear. None would risk the wrath of the greatest living wizard merely to favor a fallen house long forgotten by history.
And so, the desperate Foley family turned toward the shadows.
They sent one of their few remaining heirs—polished, daring, and willing to take risks—into the underworld to build new wealth and alliances, quietly waiting for the day their clan might step back into the light.
*(End of chapter)*