That was the reality of the situation.
As representatives of the highest power standing at the very top of the wizarding world's food chain, Legendary Wizards had never feared challenges. It could even be said that any wizard who feared challenges could never become a Legendary Wizard.
Now, however…
Even though Ian believed that this trip into the Ministry of Magic was very likely some sort of trap aimed either at him or at anyone daring enough to venture into the Ministry, he felt no fear whatsoever.
If anything, he was somewhat excited.
"If the Ministry of Magic has deliberately created the illusion of being understaffed and vulnerable, only to lure in people with ulterior motives and achieve some hidden objective, then I'd truly have to think more highly of them."
"Still, the odds of that aren't particularly high."
After all, the Ministry had imprisoned Newt at such a deep level, employing corrupted Ancient Spirits and even the Being Behind the Door as guards.
That alone was highly unusual.
What kind of secret had the "little creatures" Newt stumbled upon to warrant such extreme measures?
And behind all of this was there perhaps another carefully designed scheme, one intended to attract people with sufficient capability or those perceptive enough to realize something suspicious was going on?
For example... himself?
As for the possibility that all of this had been arranged specifically for him, Ian estimated the probability at less than ten percent. Tracking and predicting the movements and thoughts of a Legendary wizard required another Legendary wizard at the very least.
Just as he had said before, a place like the Ministry of Magic could never produce a Legendary Wizard. And although this era was still relatively early, it was already an age in which Legendary Wizards were becoming increasingly rare.
The possibility of another Legendary secretly plotting against Ian was therefore highly unlikely.
Of course…
Whatever the truth might be, Ian was confident that he would soon uncover the answer himself.
For now, his priority remained finding Newt and learning exactly what was going on.
And to find Newt… He first had to overcome the obstacle of the massive door before him.
Countless speculations churned through Ian's mind, but he forcibly suppressed them all. Right now, the most important thing was dealing with whatever was about to emerge from behind the door.
He could sense that the existence beyond it had fully awakened.
That unimaginably vast will, overflowing with filth and insatiable desire, pressed upon his heart as though it had taken physical form.
Boom... Boom... Boom...
The giant door began to tremble rhythmically, as if something inside were striking it with tremendous force.
The twisted reliefs covering the door seemed to come alive, emitting shrill screeches as their glow became increasingly unstable and blinding.
Then, from the cracks between the doors, something began to seep out.
It was a black substance resembling tar, exuding an aura of evil and chaos far denser, far more primordial, than even that of the Ancient Spirits.
"So I'm the target?"
Ian tightened his grip on his wand.
His gaze sharpened like that of a hunting eagle. All distracting thoughts vanished, leaving behind only pure vigilance and the desire for battle.
Whether this was a trap or not… The time had come to face whatever truth lay ahead.
Creeeeak… Hummmmm…
Accompanied by a grating roar that sounded like metal scraping against stone, the enormous door slowly and heavily opened inward, revealing a narrow gap. An even denser wave of darkness and corruption surged out like a breached floodgate, instantly filling the entire passageway.
Even the air itself seemed to become thick and poisonous.
The change was unmistakable.
Just as the temperature dropped whenever a Dementor appeared, the moment the door opened, both the atmosphere and the air underwent a dramatic transformation.
Then, within the endless darkness beyond the gap…
A pair of eyes lit up.
'What kind of eyes were they?'
Crimson red, like burning blood.
Yet hollow, like two whirlpools leading into an abyss of endless suffering.
Within them dwelled the most primal greed, the most berserk craving, and a fanatical obsession akin to that of a dying man spotting his final lifeline.
A hoarse, twisted roar, seemingly stitched together from countless fragments of tortured souls, echoed from behind the door, reverberating directly within Ian's soul.
"Spirit... of Nature... fresh... pure... more... give me more!!!"
The voice was filled with an overwhelming hunger for the Spirit of Nature, as though it were the only sustenance capable of maintaining its existence.
However, when those crimson eyes swept across Ian, they paused slightly.
Then an even more frenzied, more ecstatic surge of thought erupted.
"No... not a Spirit of Nature… A Legendary! A wizard's Legendary! Good! Good! Good!!! There are still Legendaries! There are still Legendaries!"
"Your soul... your power..."
"Enough... enough to keep me awake for another hundred years!"
"A hundred years!!!"
It had recognized Ian's identity as a Legendary Wizard.
And in its eyes, Ian was an even more delicious delicacy than a Spirit of Nature, one capable of extending its precious period of "wakefulness" far longer than any Spirit of Nature ever could.
Ian could clearly sense this creature's craving.
Desire.
"I see now."
At that moment, he saw through many things.
It was this very will that acted as a source of corruption, continuously transferring and infusing its own chaos and evil into the otherwise peaceful Spirits of Nature through some incomprehensible method. The spirits were forced to endure the agony of having their very essence tainted.
As a result, they had become twisted monsters that knew only how to guard and devour.
Under Ian's solemn gaze, a figure slowly stepped out from the darkness beyond the opened giant door.
To Ian's surprise, it was not the grotesque, indescribable monster he had expected.
Instead, it was...
A humanoid being.
He, or it, was roughly the height of an ordinary adult man. It wore a tattered robe that seemed to have been stitched together from countless scraps of cloth of varying colors and textures. The robe was covered in long-dried stains of suspicious origin.
Its skin possessed an unhealthy grayish hue.
The surface was covered in cracked patterns, like parched earth.
There was no hair on its face. Though its features still vaguely resembled those of a human, they appeared stiff and distorted, as if it were wearing a poorly made mask.
Of course, the most striking feature remained its eyes… Those eyes burning with crimson desire.
Although this being appeared humanoid, it radiated a filth and chaos far denser, more primordial, and more nauseating than that of all three Ancient Spirits combined.
The aura was not merely dark magical power.
It carried something else...
Divinity.
A divinity that had been utterly twisted, fallen, and filled with madness and suffering.
The being stepped out of the doorway without uttering a single word.
Its shriveled arm, covered in bizarre runes, shot upward and pointed directly at Ian. The runes seemed both naturally formed and artificially branded upon the flesh.
There was no incantation.
No wand.
With that simple gesture alone, a vast and polluted force imbued with the principles of decay, withering, and soul-rending surged toward Ian like an invisible tidal wave.
The nature of this power was completely different from a wizard's magic.
It was more direct.
Closer to the fundamental rules of the world.
It carried an unquestionable authority.
A familiar authority.
One Ian recognized immediately.
The authority of a god.
Yes.
The power of a god.
Even though that authority had long since been corrupted beyond recognition.
"Divine Magic! Corrupted Divine Magic!"
Ian's pupils contracted sharply as he instantly identified the essence of the power.
After all, over the past period of time, he had encountered more than one god. Faced with such a being, Ian no longer dared to show the slightest carelessness.
Legendary-level magical power erupted from him without reservation. His wand moved faster than the naked eye could follow, tracing an incomparably intricate pattern before him.
It was a composite defensive array that combined the essence of ancient runes with modern magical formations.
"Root Barrier!"
A magical wall shimmering with the brilliance of seven-colored crystal instantly took shape. Countless tiny streams of runes flowed across its surface as it firmly positioned itself before Ian.
BOOM…!!!
The corrupted Divine Magic slammed into the crystal barrier, causing a deafening explosion that shook the heavens and earth.
The entire underground prison trembled violently.
Fragments of rock rained down from above.
The crystal barrier flashed wildly, and the runes covering its surface flickered violently, clearly enduring immense pressure.
Yet in the end, it successfully withstood the terrifying attack.
And at the very instant those two forces collided, Ian's mental power acted like the most sensitive detector imaginable, coming into direct contact with and sensing the polluted Divine Magic.
He saw it.
Deep within that sea of corruption and chaos lay a shattered fragment of Divinity, overflowing with pain and madness.
The authority originally represented by that fragment seemed to be...
Procreation.
Abundance.
Or perhaps some concept related to the natural cycle itself.
Yet this authority, which should have brought life and prosperity, had been invaded and twisted by an indescribable corruption, something like a cancer of the universe.
The corruption was alive.
It continuously multiplied and spread. It corroded the Divinity itself while twisting the laws it represented.
Procreation had become uncontrolled, distorted proliferation.
Abundance had become rotten, festering excess.
Cycle had become an endless, agonizing reincarnation.
This god…
If it could still be called a god…
Was itself enduring the torment of this unstoppable, ever-growing corruption.
Its madness.
Its hunger.
Neither was part of its original nature.
They were symptoms of the agony caused by the corruption that had penetrated to the very core of its Divinity.
And from its frenzied cries just moments ago…
"Give me more! Another hundred years of clarity!"
Ian instantly understood the method by which it transferred its corruption to others. It could neither cleanse nor suppress the ever-growing corruption within itself.
The only way it could survive was through some evil ritual, or perhaps instinctive ability, to transfer part of that corruption onto other pure beings imbued with the power of nature: the Spirits of Nature.
By corrupting the Spirits of Nature, it could temporarily lessen its own burden and gain brief periods of "clarity."
Having figured all of this out, Ian's gaze toward the Fallen God became even more astonished, though it also carried a trace of solemnity.
There was no contempt in his eyes.
After all, as the saying went, better a dead friend than a dead me.
One could not even say that this method was unimaginably evil.
In nature itself, the strong preying upon the weak was simply a fundamental law. It could only be said that this god had clearly done this sort of thing many times before, and the Spirits of Nature had become the unfortunate victims of this disaster.
Their very essence had been forcibly twisted, transforming them into the suffering, berserk creatures they were today.
Could this also be one of the reasons why Spirits of Nature had become increasingly rare across Africa?
"So that's how it is..."
Ian suddenly felt enlightened.
All the clues and mysteries that had puzzled him until now connected together into a complete picture. Perhaps deep beneath the African Ministry of Magic, there existed a heavily corrupted, maddened Fallen God that was being imprisoned, or perhaps worshipped.
For the moment, Ian still did not know why the African Ministry of Magic was doing such a thing.
However. there was one thing he could be absolutely certain about.
To prevent itself from being completely consumed by corruption, this god had continuously transferred its corruption onto the Spirits of Nature throughout the African continent.
And the Ministry of Magic could not possibly be unaware of this.
Judging from the facts, they might even have been deliberately allowing it to happen.
Perhaps they were even helping this twisted god conceal the truth.
Otherwise, there was no way the outside world would have remained completely ignorant.
Without official forces suppressing information, such a matter could never have been hidden, nor could it have failed to cause massive unrest.
Furthermore, only an institution like the Ministry of Magic possessed the experience and resources necessary to keep such a horrifying truth from becoming public knowledge.
Ordinary organizations lacked both the capability and the expertise.
At present, Ian still did not know whether the Ministry's efforts to cover up this matter were intended to preserve peace and stability within the wizarding world, or whether some darker, more cruel motive lurked behind it.
In any case…
As far as Ian was concerned, the African Ministry of Magic was definitely not innocent.
"Why does this not surprise me at all? It's the Ministry of Magic, after all. Covering up disasters is practically their traditional specialty."
As Ian gradually organized his thoughts, he realized that Newt might not have been falsely accused after all.
The "little creatures" brought by Newt Scamander had likely stumbled upon this secret by accident.
Or perhaps their very existence posed a threat to the corruption-transfer ritual.
That would explain why Newt had been swiftly imprisoned at the deepest level.
As for why the sealed door containing the Fallen God had been placed directly along the only route leading here…
That remained a mystery.
Surely it wasn't because the Fallen God itself had been assigned to guard Newt?
That explanation made little sense. If Newt had been the one to awaken the Fallen God, there was no way such a creature would obediently serve as a jailer for the Ministry of Magic.
In fact, the sealed door itself was suspicious.
It had neither opened earlier nor later. It was almost as if someone behind the scenes had been manipulating events, waiting specifically for Ian to arrive before releasing the Fallen God.
A being like this...
Certainly deserved to be called one of the "important figures" mentioned by the information broker.
"No matter what, once I defeat him and examine his memories, I'll probably learn what really happened."
Ian's eyes settled on the Fallen God standing before the giant door.
In truth…
Just from the creature's expression and attitude, it was obvious that whether Ian wanted to fight or not, this battle was unavoidable.
After all… The Fallen God had already set its sights on him.
Negotiation clearly was not going to solve the problem.
And in any case, that was not Ian's style.
When dealing with people who showed him insufficient respect, his preferred solution was usually a thorough beating.
"Even if it's a god, the same rule applies."
Ian greatly disliked the look in the creature's eyes.
This greedy Fallen God viewed him—a Legendary Wizard who had merely wandered in by accident—as a superior delicacy, something even more valuable than a Spirit of Nature.
A supreme tonic capable of keeping it "awake for another hundred years."
'Using me as a supplement?'
'Did you ever ask whether I agreed?'
"You want to devour me?" Ian slowly raised his wand.
The magical power surrounding him roared like an awakened Ancient Dragon.
A cold battle intent burned within his eyes.
"Then let's see whether a god barely clinging to life still has the teeth to chew me up!"
This was not the first time Ian had pointed his wand at a god.
Confident.
Composed.
Elegant.
Those words perfectly described Ian at this moment.
"Being able to assist me should be an honor for a mortal like you!"
The Fallen God seemed enraged by Ian's provocation.
It let out an even more frenzied roar as polluted Divine Power surged around it like a boiling ocean.
The great battle…
Was about to begin!
(End of Chapter)
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