The thundercloud above was like a massive black curtain, looming over the battlefield.
Every passing second, dozens—sotis hundreds—of bolts of white lightning fell erratically from the sky, striking toward the wizards below with terrifying precision.
The brief flashes of light illuminated the chaos around them.
Within the very first minute of battle, casualties began to appear on both sides under the dual onslaught of lightning and Fiendfyre serpents.
"Oh, crap…"
One particularly unfortunate new Purgator, who had infiltrated the Death Eaters' ranks, was struck squarely by a bolt of lightning.
Lacking the powers of Shazam, he was instantly charred to a crisp—cooked to a perfect dium rare.
Yet, because Orsaga hadn't "overcharged" the storm clouds overhead, the bolt didn't kill him outright.
As is often the case with natural lightning, the first strike rely left him smoking—hair singed, sparks spitting from his mouth—but still alive.
That was until a massive Fiendfyre serpent trampled past mid-battle, crushing him effortlessly and severing his head in passing.
[Purgator #8748477 killed: 2,000 reward points (50% transfer)]
"...?"
Orsaga blinked at the unexpected system prompt.
He hadn't expected those useless Purgators to be worth anything at all.
Still, he didn't care much. After glancing at the ssage, he ignored it.
After all, every ti he killed a wizard, the Matrix Purgatory would send another notification.
[Sub-Mission Complete: Kill Death Eater Rodolphus Lestrange – 2,200 reward points]
[Sub-Mission Complete: Kill…]
It was like a constant scroll of system ssages.
Just like back in the Resident Evil world—he had no idea who half these people even were.
It was like stomping on an anthill. He didn't have the ti to distinguish which ant was special.
Just stomp them all and move on. The ones that survive? Maybe they're worth sothing.
---
With a spell, Voldemort dispersed an incoming lightning bolt aid at him.
Watching his subordinates die one after another, his rage boiled over.
"EVERYONE—FOCUS YOUR ATTACKS ON THAT MAN!"
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
He roared, and a massive beam of green light—nearly a ter in diater—burst from his wand, coiling into the shape of a giant serpent.
It slithered around the obstructing Fiendfyre beasts, lunging toward Orsaga with lethal intent.
The others followed his lead, circumventing the fire serpents to attack Orsaga directly.
Even Dumbledore joined in.
Seeing Dumbledore also attacking, Professor McGonagall and Snape instinctively raised their wands, preparing to join forces.
But just as they were about to cast their spells, they were stunned to find that Dumbledore, imdiately after firing his own attack, turned his wand on them.
A powerful magical pulse surged forth.
Caught off guard, Snape and McGonagall vanished on the spot—forcibly teleported elsewhere.
Orsaga noticed imdiately.
Compared to the irrelevant magical attacks being flung his way, Dumbledore's use of that brief distraction to extract two key individuals was genuinely worth noting.
In response to Orsaga's thoughts, the thundercloud above rumbled—and hundreds of bolts of lightning suddenly descended.
Each one precisely intercepted an incoming spell, neutralizing them in midair.
Casually, Orsaga pointed his wand toward Voldemort, interrupting his Apparition spell, which the Dark Lord had secretly been preparing.
Orsaga paid no mind to Voldemort's resulting backlash. Instead, he turned to Dumbledore and calmly remarked:
"You're more capable than I expected."
Dumbledore gave a solemn nod, bowing slightly.
"Thank you for the complint."
Voldemort could only glare in impotent fury.
Had Dumbledore not acted when he did and whisked McGonagall and Snape away, he might have had a chance to escape.
Unlike the other wizards, who still believed Orsaga was rely "absurdly powerful",
Voldemort and Dumbledore—with their insight and close-range exposure—recognized sothing far more disturbing.
They could sense that Orsaga possessed qualities no human should possess.
They understood sothing clearly now:
Orsaga was not soone they could defeat.
No matter how many allies they had, no matter how coordinated their attack—the gap in power was unbridgeable.
After a mont of silence, Dumbledore tentatively asked:
"…May I ask what it is that Your Excellency truly desires?"
Hearing the term "Your Excellency," Orsaga instantly grasped what Dumbledore was thinking.
"You think I'm a Divine Incarnation?"
"…Well, you're not entirely wrong."
"As for what I want…"
"I already told you—I'm here to rule this planet."
In ancient magical records, "Divine Incarnations" were vessels crafted by gods during the distant, mythological past, allowing them to walk the mortal world in human form.
Orsaga didn't bother correcting Dumbledore's assumption.
After all, his current form was essentially the sa—a powerful being voluntarily lowering its level to interact with the world.
Dumbledore kept a calm expression, but his mind raced.
Forcing a polite smile, he asked:
"Didn't the gods leave the mortal realm long ago and journey into the unknown beyond?"
"Why must you trouble us mortals now?"
According to ancient magical lore:
In prehistoric tis, when mankind still lived like beasts, the gods descended from the stars.
They bestowed knowledge upon humanity, lifting them from savagery and helping them build civilization.
For tens of thousands of years, the gods ruled over human society from above.
Then, three thousand years ago, they all left together—departing Earth and heading into the unknown.
So Dumbledore simply couldn't understand.
Where had this new god-like being co from?
Orsaga only chuckled at the question, replying bluntly:
"Because it amuses ."
With that—
Countless fiery beasts began to pour forth from his wand once again.
"Let's continue where we left off. I only need half of you to survive."
The massacre resud—even more ruthless than before.
Weaker wizards were picked off one by one, reduced to ash and mory.
---
Ten minutes later.
Looking down at the survivors—each of them wounded and trembling—Orsaga spoke indifferently:
"From this point on, you are my dogs."
As he finished speaking, the massive beasts of Fiendfyre dissolved into countless motes of red light.
Each one flew straight toward a wizard, branding their foreheads with a scarlet sigil—a deathly flower-shaped mark.
Silently, a powerful group spell was cast across the battlefield.
None could resist.
[Imperius Curse]
One of the three Unforgivable Curses, akin to a potent hypnotic spell.
It wipes the victim's mind clean, overwhelms them with artificial joy, and makes them completely obedient to the caster.
Orsaga wasn't just controlling them—he was permanently altering their thoughts, beliefs, and worldviews.
The wizards' wills fought back with all their strength.
They clashed violently with the overwhelming force of Orsaga's will contained in the curse.
But in the end—
An arm cannot overpower the heavens.
As the caster, Orsaga held an absolute advantage.
One by one, the wizards fell into line.
Even the two greatest figures in the magical world—Dumbledore and Voldemort—were no exception.
In this battle of will, both were utterly defeated.
"Ti to make my grand entrance."
As Orsaga murmured to himself, the entire group vanished from the battlefield.
Mass Apparition.
_____
T/N:
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