Erwin clenched his jaw, forcing himself to endure the overwhelming pressure. He wouldn't kneel—not to anyone, not even a god.
Death loomed above him, its skeletal gaze piercing. A faint, ethereal "Huh?" escaped the figure.
"Intriguing."
In the next instant, an immense force slammed into Erwin, buckling his knees. He teetered on the edge of collapse.
Then, a surge of power erupted from the Deathly Token in his hand, shielding him from the onslaught.
Death's empty sockets fixed on the pendant. A disdainful snort echoed through the void.
"Mortal, name your desire. I will reveal the cost."
Bolstered by the token's energy, Erwin lifted his head to meet the god's stare. "Can you do anything?"
The cold voice boomed: "You question my power?"
Erwin swallowed hard. "I wouldn't dream of it. You're a god; I was just clarifying."
"Speak your wish swiftly. My time here is limited."
Erwin's mind raced. "What if I asked to bring someone back—resurrect them?"
Death glanced down. "The souls of Dragon Whisperers and pure-blood descendants lie beyond my domain. That, I cannot grant."
Erwin's brow furrowed. "What about Lily Potter?"
The figure flipped open its tattered ledger, pages crackling like dry leaves. "Possible. But not for you yet. In five years, I shall return and name my price."
Erwin opened his mouth for more, but Death dissolved into shadow, vanishing without a trace.
The moment it left, a bone-chilling shiver raced down Erwin's spine—as if an invisible presence had grazed him, claiming a sliver of his fate. His life felt borrowed, fragile.
The sensation faded as quickly as it came. Erwin slumped, gasping for air. He scanned the room, heart pounding. Everything looked ordinary, untouched. Had it all been a hallucination?
No. He'd felt it. Something real, unseen, had watched him.
Glaring at the pendant, Erwin muttered a curse. What had that blasted magical voice saddled him with? It had actually summoned Death.
Did that mean the god truly existed? And if Death walked this world, what about the others?
From Death's sparse words, Erwin pieced together fragments: the god couldn't linger. Some binding force? A greater power? That fleeting brush—another deity?
The raw terror of facing death had stripped away any illusion of defiance. In its presence, resistance seemed laughable.
What kind of world was this? Harry Potter was supposed to be a children's tale—dark, sure, with its share of tragedy, but not this.
The pendant's chill deepened against his skin. Erwin hurled it into his enchanted pouch, relief washing over him.
Then reality hit: Death would return in five years.
Bloody hell. Why him? What did a god want from a wizard like him? Couldn't it just... forget?
He sank onto the bed, mind whirling. To match Death in five years, how many foes would he need to fell? Start small—test the waters?
Erwin's thoughts sharpened amid the fear. As a wizard thrust into this life, the encounter had shaken him, but it ignited something fiercer. Seeing a god firsthand sparked a wild notion.
If deities were real, so was true immortality.
False eternity? He'd scoff at that. But the genuine article... With his magical gifts, why not chase it?
He steadied his breathing and turned to his remaining rewards.
First, the Enchanted Forging Set. Sounded promising.
The description was straightforward: infuse magic into gear. Robes for armor? Simple enough.
Weapons were trickier—swords, daggers, the lot. But Erwin had his own idea.
Rummaging through his enchanted pouch, he drew out the Great Equalizer, its silver barrel gleaming.
If this worked on firearms... the bullets could carry spells.
The potential thrilled him. Enchanted rounds? Game-changing.
Eager, Erwin summoned the weapon forging kit. It materialized on the floor, resembling a Muggle popcorn machine—complete with a pressure gauge. Bizarre design, but function mattered.
He loaded the Great Equalizer inside.
The machine hummed to life, vibrating with arcane energy.
Minutes later, the lid popped open, ejecting the gun.
Erwin inspected it. Subtle runes now etched the barrel, pulsing faintly.
Uncertain but hopeful, he snapped his fingers and stepped into the Room of Requirement, requesting a chamber with an enchanted armor dummy.
Inside, he faced the hulking figure and took aim. A single shot rang out.
The bronze bullet struck true, hurling the dummy backward in a spray of sparks.
Erwin's eyes widened. It worked.
He'd woven in the Bone-Shattering Curse—a brutal alternative to the Killing Curse.
A quick check revealed the runes dimmed slightly after the shot, but they were already refilling from ambient magic.
Reusable. Brilliant. The shadow of Death lifted like mist.
Without pause, he fed his enchanted robes into the armor kit.
When they emerged, glowing sigils adorned the fabric.
He draped them over the dummy and fired again. A shimmering shield flickered to life, absorbing the impact.
Erwin grinned. Invincible armor and cursed bullets? In five years, even a god might think twice.
...
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