After absorbing the shocking revelations about Cassian Veylorn, Roy was momentarily silent. The weight of centuries-old schemes and Voldemort's manipulation pressed on him, and he didn't know where to start. Grindelwald, on the other hand, felt a mixture of irritation and anger—not toward Roy, but toward Voldemort.
"How dare that fool Voldemort toy with relics like the Ravenclaw Tiara, Hufflepuff Cup, and Resurrection Stone, yet care so little for the Slytherin Locket?" Grindelwald growled, pacing slightly. His gaze narrowed, as if the mere mention of Voldemort's name made the air around them tense.
Roy nodded in agreement. "Compared to you, Grindelwald, Voldemort is an idiot. Manipulated, shortsighted… he has no understanding of the depth of power he's dealing with."
Grindelwald froze, blinking at Roy. For the first time, someone compared him to Voldemort—and not in favor of Voldemort. Grindelwald's mind raced; he hadn't expected such a comparison, but in that moment, he saw the sharpness, confidence, and daring in Roy that reminded him of the old days, and also… of Darius Valvas.
Roy poured a small measure of sixty-year-old whiskey into a glass and handed it to Grindelwald. He took a slow sip, savoring the warmth, before remarking, "Arrogant… yes. But a good heart for those I care about."
Grindelwald chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "Dumbledore told me much about you, Roy. You are… like your grandfather, Darius Valvas." He paused, then his eyes sharpened with a sudden gleam. "If you are truly worthy, prove it. A duel. Magic, strategy, skill—show me your strength."
Roy's lips curled into a small, confident smile. "With pleasure." He handed Grindelwald a wand and led him to a wide, empty chamber in Nurmengard. The space was perfect: no walls to obstruct movement, no objects to limit their magic.
Roy drew his zanpakuto, Ryujin Jakka, the flames licking along its edge as he took his stance. Grindelwald wasted no time. He summoned Protego Diabolica, a swirling shield of chaotic magic, its darkness shimmering ominously.
Roy channeled his magic into Ryujin Jakka. The sword ignited with blinding, pure fire, the heat palpable even from a distance. "This," Roy said calmly, "is true fire."
The duel began. Magic clashed against sword, spells collided with flame, each strike creating shockwaves that rattled the stone walls of the chamber. Grindelwald's attacks were precise, calculated, but Roy's fire was unpredictable, fluid, and deadly. Each movement of Ryujin Jakka flowed like liquid flame, weaving through Grindelwald's defenses.
After several rounds of escalating intensity, Roy stopped. "Protect yourself," he called. Grindelwald smirked, assuming it was jest.
Then Roy activated a shikai move. In an instant, Ryujin Jakka became a torrent of blazing serpentine fire, twisting, striking, and enveloping Grindelwald's Protego. The overwhelming heat and force forced Grindelwald to yield, his body taking damage despite his defenses.
Roy immediately lowered the sword and healed Grindelwald's injuries with a simple, precise touch. The duel ended not in destruction, but in mutual acknowledgment of power and respect.
Grindelwald, recovering and now seated, looked at Roy with a mix of astonishment and amusement. He laughed quietly, a low, thoughtful chuckle. "You… truly are like Darius Valvas. Clever, daring, relentless… and yet, loyal to your own. I look forward to the future. Truly, I do."
Roy simply nodded, collecting Ryujin Jakka and leaving Nurmengard. As he departed, Grindelwald remained seated, staring after him, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The castle echoed with the quiet realization: a new force had emerged, one that could rival even the darkest legacies of wizarding history.