Seeing her state, the smile on Lord Voldemort's face grew even more delighted.
He enjoyed the feeling of trampling a strong person underfoot and crushing their dignity.
"It seems this is the correct way to deal with you."
He raised his wand, and a scarlet light burst from its tip.
"Crucio..."
Just as the curse was about to leave his wand.
Lia moved.
Her claws instantly shot out.
She abandoned all defense, gave up all resistance, and even proactively shut down the wildly operating [Super-speed Regeneration].
Vast and profound dark energy erupted violently from within her body!
This was not for attack, but for self-destruction!
She was not confident she could instantly kill all the Death Eaters while also protecting Hermione.
She intended to use her eighth death to bring this torture to an end.
She wanted to use her soul to blow up every Death Eater present.
However, Lord Voldemort was faster than her.
He seemed to have anticipated her action. The moment he uttered the curse, the curve of his lips became even more bizarre.
What he shot out was not the Cruciatus Curse at all!
It was a silent black curse, yet one imbued with extreme malice and resentment, coiling around Lia's soul instantly like a twisted venomous snake!
Soul Severing Curse!
An ancient Dark Art even more sinister than the Killing Curse and the Cruciatus Curse combined!
It won't kill you directly, but it will violently tear your soul from your body, forcing you to watch your own flesh decay and die in endless agony!
"Aaaargh—!"
Lia let out a piercing scream that sounded inhuman.
Her body arched backward violently, as if an invisible giant hand was forcibly pulling her soul out of its shell!
Her resistance to soul attacks ironically became a side effect at this moment.
It infinitely prolonged the agony of being severed.
She resisted the spell with all her might, but due to being overly drained by the Death Eaters, she finally couldn't hold on.
The barrier of [Resilient Spirit] was instantly shattered by this ultimate torture aimed at the soul!
Her consciousness began to blur, and everything in her vision started to distort and fade.
The last image she saw was Hermione's pale and peaceful sleeping face.
I'm sorry, Hermione... I failed... to protect you...
Then, all the light in her eyes completely extinguished.
Eighth death.
"It's over," Lord Voldemort sighed contentedly, looking at Lia's fallen 'corpse'.
But just as he was about to step forward to examine this peculiar shell.
"Boom—!"
The heavy wooden door of 12 Grimmauld Place, reinforced by countless spells, along with its frame and surrounding walls, was instantly 'erased' from this world by an indescribable pure force.
A tall, thin figure walked in slowly, against the light.
Albus Dumbledore.
He had arrived.
His face lacked his usual kind smile, and his blue eyes behind the half-moon spectacles held no warmth whatsoever.
"You are late, Dumbledore!" Lord Voldemort was not afraid upon seeing him, but instead let out a triumphant roar, "Look at your students! One is dead, and the other is about to die!"
Dumbledore ignored him.
His gaze swept over Lia lying in a pool of blood, then over the unconscious Hermione, and finally landed on the smug Death Eaters.
He raised his hand.
No spell.
No wand movement.
Just a simple raising of the hand.
Amycus Carrow, who was holding Hermione hostage, had the sinister grin freeze on his face.
His body began to turn into a crystal-clear ice sculpture at a speed visible to the naked eye, starting from his feet.
"Crack—"
A crack appeared on the ice sculpture, and then, under the horrified gaze of all the Death Eaters, it shattered into billions of tiny ice crystal fragments and dissipated in the wind.
Hermione, who had been restrained by his spell, was held up by a gentle force and placed softly on the ground.
"Stop him!" Lord Voldemort shrieked in shock and anger.
The remaining Death Eaters snapped out of their daze, wildly waving their wands and shooting their most vicious curses at Dumbledore.
But those curses, powerful enough to split mountains, dissolved silently like mud sinking into the sea when they came within three feet of Dumbledore's body.
Dumbledore performed another action.
He simply snapped his fingers lightly.
"Snap."
A crisp sound.
The Death Eaters who were casting spells, along with the curses they projected, were instantly ignited by an invisible, pure white flame.
The heat of the flames made the room slightly dry, and some wooden furniture even faintly emitted a baked fragrance.
It burned quietly, turning those arrogant Death Eaters, along with their souls, into the most primitive nothingness.
In less than three seconds.
The entire hall returned to silence.
Except for Lord Voldemort, all the Death Eaters had vanished.
It was as if they had never existed.
Dumbledore's wand was finally raised, the legendary elder wand pointing remotely at Lord Voldemort.
"Tom..."
His voice was low, yet it seemed to carry the weight of the entire world.
The shock and anger on Lord Voldemort's face quickly transformed into an even more crazed sneer after Dumbledore displayed this god-like might.
He admitted that his mastery of magic still fell short of Dumbledore's.
But he still had a final trump card.
He did not look at Dumbledore, but instead violently waved his wand, pointing the tip at the two motionless girls on the ground—one already dead, the other unconscious.
"You are still so indecisive, Dumbledore!" Lord Voldemort cackled hoarsely, his Crimson Serpentine Eyes filled with mockery and venom.
"Your kindness, your love, is your greatest weakness! Do you dare kill me before I kill them?"
He knew clearly that Dumbledore would not dare to gamble.
With just one Killing Curse from him, these two girls could completely vanish from this world.
And any attack from Dumbledore might affect them.
This was a dead end.
A dead end tailor-made for Dumbledore, forged from the things he cherished most.
However, Dumbledore's reaction was completely beyond his expectations.
There was no struggle or hesitation on the old man's face.
Those deep blue eyes were as calm as a still ancient well, stirring not the slightest ripple.
"Tell me," Dumbledore spoke, his voice terrifyingly calm, "what exactly must I do to spare them."
This sentence choked off all the mockery Lord Voldemort had prepared in his throat.
He froze.
He expected to see Dumbledore's pain and anger, but instead, he only saw a calm resignation to give up everything.
This made him feel an inexplicable irritation.
"Very simple," he recovered, adopting the posture of a victor, spitting out the word he had craved for half a century, "You die."
"Fine."
Dumbledore answered too quickly.
So fast that Lord Voldemort almost thought he had misheard.
He agreed just like that?
Albus Dumbledore, the man who had terrified him his entire life, who pressed down on him like a mountain, was so easily giving up his own life for two insignificant girls?
A wave of absurdity and the anger of being underestimated instantly surged into Lord Voldemort's heart.
"Before I die," Dumbledore seemed oblivious to his change in emotion, continuing in that same calm tone, "I need to send them away first, to a safe place."
"A mudblood, and a beast already dead," Lord Voldemort sneered disdainfully, looking at Hermione and Lia on the ground.
In his eyes, these two people were worthless.
Once Dumbledore was dead, no one could stop him. As for them, whether they lived or died was utterly irrelevant.
"Agreed," he arrogantly consented.
He wanted to see what tricks this old man could pull off before his death.
"Thank you," Dumbledore nodded slightly, as if concluding a routine transaction.
He raised the elder wand, its tip aimed at Hermione and Lia on the ground.
A warm yet complex golden light began to gather at the wand's tip.
That light contained the power of space, the imprint of time, and the pure life energy of the Phoenix Fawkes.
This was an extremely profound ancient targeted teleportation magic.
Almost at the same moment Dumbledore raised his wand, Lord Voldemort also raised his yew wand.
The tip of his wand was aimed squarely at Dumbledore's heart.
A dense, ineffable Sickly Green light began to condense and compress at his wand tip, emanating a deathly aura that made souls tremble.
He would not give Dumbledore any chance to go back on his word.
Time seemed to slow down infinitely at this moment.
The two men standing at the apex of the current Wizarding World, one for protection, the other for destruction, simultaneously channeled their most powerful spells.
"Goodbye, Tom," Dumbledore whispered, his blue eyes showing pity for the last time.
The golden light on his wand erupted, transforming into a massive cocoon of light that completely enveloped the bodies of Hermione and Lia.
The moment the light cocoon ignited—
"Avada Kedavra!"
Lord Voldemort roared out the curse he was most proud of and most hated, pouring all his strength into it!
A column of intensely concentrated, thick green light, like the Grim Reaper's scythe, crossed the distance, tore through the air, and shot straight toward Dumbledore's chest.
Dumbledore did not dodge, nor did he defend.
He simply stood there quietly, watching the golden cocoon enveloping the two girls slowly dissipate in place amid the brilliant light.
Then, he closed his eyes.
The green light struck Dumbledore, and a red light flashed over the heart of the tall White Wizard.
This tall figure, hailed as the greatest White Wizard of the age, slowly collapsed.
12 Grimmauld Place, this ancient mansion that had witnessed countless darkness and glory, fell into complete silence.
Lord Voldemort stood in the center of the ruined great hall, his face first showing extreme ecstasy, but immediately replaced by an inexplicable sense of empty unease.
He had won.
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