Demon Prince: Eternal Sovereign Of The Multiverse Chapter 319 319: So... What Do We Do Now?

While the world's governnts scrambled to make decisions—

After a harrowing escape, Snape and McGonagall, the only two who managed to get away, finally made it back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Ever since Dumbledore had forcibly sent them away, they'd been fighting to survive. Both of them were injured and exhausted—especially Snape, who had taken several lightning strikes directly to the chest and had nearly died on the spot.

It was only after they'd stabilized themselves with great effort that they were able to limp back to the school, battered and bruised.

The mont they returned, looking like survivors of a massacre, the entire Hogwarts staff and students were gripped with horror—not to ntion the Purgators, who were so frustrated they nearly stomped the floor in anger.

"Damn it!. Voldemort is actually that strong?!. Had I known, I would've sided with him too!"

The professors who had stayed behind anxiously crowded around the two of them, bombarding them with questions:

"Where's Headmaster Dumbledore?"

"Is he okay??"

"Has the Dark Lord really grown so powerful after his full resurrection?"

As they spoke, many recalled the days of old, their expressions filled with dread.

"..."

Looking at everyone as if they had lost their backbone, McGonagall could only sigh and say helplessly, "If it were Voldemort, that would've been manageable. But what we're facing now… is much worse than a Voldemort."

"?"

The crowd imdiately sensed sothing was wrong. Before they could probe further, McGonagall explained on her own:

"The biggest threat now is Orsaga. Just as we were confronting the Death Eaters, Orsaga—who was supposed to be locked up in Azkaban—suddenly appeared and single-handedly overpowered everyone on the battlefield. If Dumbledore hadn't seized the mont to get us out, neither of us would've survived…"

Those words made Penelope, who had drawn closer out of curiosity, freeze in shock. She thought she must have misheard.

"?"

And it wasn't just her—everyone in the room was stunned into silence.

Several seconds passed before one of the professors, looking very awkward, cautiously asked:

"Sorry, McGonagall, did you just say that Orsaga alone suppressed Dumbledore, Voldemort, hundreds of Aurors, and hundreds of Death Eaters?. But... wasn't he only eleven years old?. Are you sure you two aren't under the effects of so hallucination spell?"

Facing everyone's skepticism, McGonagall knew full well how ridiculous her claim sounded. So, she gave a more detailed explanation:

"When Dumbledore sent us away, he used [Legilincy] to implant so of his mories into my mind. In those mories, he shared his thoughts about Orsaga. According to his analysis, Orsaga exhibits traits that no mortal should possess—which ans he might actually be a Divine Incarnation—a god descending into a mortal vessel."

"Divine Incarnation?"

At the ntion of this unfamiliar term, nearly everyone fell into confusion—

Except for Professor Sybill Trelawney, who imdiately turned pale as a ghost.

Her ancestor, Cassandra Trelawney, was one of the most famous oracles of ancient Greece. She made countless successful prophecies and was revered throughout the Hellenic world.

But during one of her predictions, she offended Apollo, one of the Olympian Twelve Gods who was walking the mortal world in a Divine Incarnation.

As a result, she was cursed by the god.

For thousands of years since, the Trelawney bloodline had suffered endless misfortune under the effects of that curse.

No matter how accurate their divinations were, they could never alter their own destinies.

They died young, were disgraced, or suffered devastating fates...

So now, upon hearing that Orsaga might be a Divine Incarnation, Sybill's heart plunged into sheer terror.

Her first instinct was to flee.

But then she rembered—she had nowhere to go.

The Trelawney family had fallen on especially hard tis over the centuries.

They had nothing left.

She herself had been stuck teaching Divination at Hogwarts for decades—spending her days drinking and muttering about fate, watching her family line approach extinction.

"Tragic" didn't even begin to cover it.

Unaware of the complex thoughts racing through Trelawney's mind, McGonagall turned to her and said with a grave tone, "Trelawney, we need your help. Please—try using your Divination to learn more about Orsaga's origins."

Sybill, having no real authority outside Hogwarts, had no choice but to comply with the request.

Reluctantly, she agreed.

———

A few minutes later.

As the Tarot cards burst into flas, the divination tortoise shell exploded, and the elental spirits literally ran away—

Sybill threw up her hands and declared, exasperated:

"I'm sorry, but he really might be so kind of god. My divination magic can't detect anything about him. Did he at least tell you why he's doing this?"

Realizing Trelawney was at her limit, McGonagall sighed and replied:

"He said… he intends to conquer the world. As for why he's targeting wizards specifically—he said he was just trying to find a few subordinates."

"!"

Off to the side, Penelope's eyes widened. Her mind instantly jumped to a certain conversation she'd had with Orsaga.

And guilt struck her like a hamr.

She had joked—casually suggesting he "go conquer the world" since it would give his life so purpose.

How could she have known… that he'd actually take it seriously?

And now?

Now the entire planet was in chaos because of a throwaway comnt.

She didn't even dare open her mouth.

It was like seeing so aimless loser on the street and jokingly telling them, "Go conquer the world—it'll give you sothing to live for!"...

Only to watch them suddenly channel the spirits of Hitler, Alexander the Great, and Napoleon all at once.

'This is insane!. How was I supposed to know he was actually capable of this?!'

anwhile, the Purgators were utterly baffled.

They knew Orsaga was a Purgator like them.

But how had the story spiraled this far out of control?

Thirty minutes later.

After a round of urgent discussions, the people of Hogwarts ca to a grim realization:

With the Ministry of Magic's Aurors and Voldemort's Death Eaters both utterly defeated, half of Britain's magical fighting force was now gone.

And since Orsaga clearly wasn't interested in just conquering Britain's magical world, they decided to notify other nations' wizarding communities for help.

A few minutes after that.

When they received responses from other countries' magical organizations, everyone at Hogwarts fell silent.

Their primitive communication thods had kept them in the dark—until now.

Only now did they find out:

New York was gone.

The entire city had been obliterated.

The Arican magical community's New York division had been virtually wiped out.

Only a handful of survivors had managed to escape by hiding in pocket dinsions or using spells like [Apparition].

And the one who had done it all—was Orsaga.

In fact, he had done it in front of the entire world, live and unfiltered.

From the very beginning, he had no intention of being subtle.

He wanted to take on every force on Earth—head-on.

Standing quietly in the crowd, Penelope dared not speak. She even wiped the cold sweat from her forehead.

Though she was only thirteen or fourteen, she clearly understood—

That stupid little joke of hers might've just thrown the entire world into a crisis.

So... what do we do now?

That was the question on everyone's mind—both the magical elites and the ordinary people of the world.

———

London.

Orsaga casually grabbed a pink, strawberry-flavored "Macho Milkshake" from a local supermarket and started drinking it on the spot.

He didn't even bother paying.

Not that anyone could bla him—after all, the store's employees had long since fled.

In fact, ever since Orsaga's forces had taken over the TV station, the surrounding area had been completely evacuated.

Only a few thrill-seekers or lunatics still lingered nearby.

Orsaga didn't care in the slightest.

Sipping his milkshake as he sat by a window, he watched the nearby wizards working on constructing magical components.

He casually humd a tune.

Even though he could feel dozens of satellites in orbit tracking his every move, Orsaga remained completely unfazed.

There was no need to hide. No reason to worry.

He was the strong.

He was the superior.

His will was absolute.

As for humanity's so-called resistance?

From the very beginning, it had only ever served one purpose.

To Entertain him.

_____

T/N:

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