One after another, more factions began to sneak over to meet Orsaga.
Almost all of them were small nations or financial conglomerates that were quick to switch allegiances depending on which way the wind blew.
To them, it didn't really matter who took the lead—as long as their core interests weren't affected, they were content.
As for their so-called pledges of allegiance...
To be frank, they were practically worthless.
But Orsaga didn't care about such petty details. He continued responding in the same way he had from the very beginning.
No matter the other party's sincerity, he accepted all offers without question.
His only two requirements: public declaration of allegiance and the ceding of specific land for the construction of Temptation Towers.
And so, time passed quietly, drawing ever closer to the moment of the second livestream.
Nations all around the world were scrambling to prepare countermeasures, hoping to block Orsaga's broadcast or intercept his attacks.
Meanwhile, the global magical communities, stirred into a frenzy by the emergence of this Divine Vessel, had convened in an emergency council.
Their lifestyle was extremely outdated, and as a result, their reaction time lagged far behind modern society—like trying to connect through a dial-up internet line.
They called regular people "Muggles," "the talentless," "the abandoned"—despising them from every angle. Yet they lacked the courage to reveal themselves to the public and only dared to act superior among their own.
Such was the nature of most wizards in this world.
Admittedly, they lived rather pathetic lives, but it didn't stop them from being unbearably arrogant.
Broke. Powerless. Irrelevant.
But their faces were full of that proud, defiant look: I'm better than you.
Now, however, the magical world had been thrown into chaos. A mysterious God had descended through a Divine Vessel, taken control of hundreds—if not thousands—of British wizards, and seemed poised to conquer the world.
This triggered fierce debate.
The top seed: a Taoist from Mount Longhu, who had already started brawling with a Japanese Onmyoji.
The second seed: a Native American shaman, now deep in magical discourse with the U.S. Secretary of Magic.
The third seed: an Egyptian high priest, who had teamed up with a Greek high priest to debate theology with the College of Cardinals.
To say the scene was chaotic would be an understatement.
Above the meeting site floated evil spirits and shikigami.
On the ground, all sorts of creepy-crawlies skittered about—from Amazonian bird-eating spiders to Egyptian scarabs.
All around the perimeter, there were representatives of non-human species like zombies, werewolves, and vampires.
Everyone started fighting the moment they saw each other!
A cacophony of shouting and curses filled the air from the very beginning.
Compared to the grievances among regular humans, the magical world's feuds stretched across millennia.
Hatred that spanned generations—so deep and ancient that peace was practically impossible.
McGonagall casually raised her wand and deflected a charging unknown creature with a spell, then turned with skepticism and asked:
"Are you sure they can work together?"
Beside her, an elderly man with snow-white hair straightened his archaic robes and blinked as he answered nonchalantly:
"Not entirely. But there are a few factions that might be persuaded. After all, the god they worship is not the one that just showed up. They won't accept being ruled by a heretical deity~~"
That man's name was Gellert Grindelwald, once known as the first Dark Lord before Voldemort.
Decades ago, he had attempted to overthrow the magical world's most sacred law—the International Statute of Secrecy—and intended to expose the magical realm to the mundane world, using that moment to build a new world ruled by the extraordinary.
Compared to Voldemort's petty gang-building antics and ambitions to become headmaster of Hogwarts or Minister for Magic, Grindelwald's vision was grander by orders of magnitude.
He had already gone beyond Britain, beyond the confines of the magical world—his sights were set on the entire globe!
Of course...
Despite his ideals, charm, ambition, and considerable abilities—despite his hard work—he still failed halfway through.
He was crushed under the triple blow of his old friend Dumbledore's friendship, love, and magic.
His dreams were shattered.
He was imprisoned in the very magical prison he built—Nurmengard—and spent decades as a washed-up relic.
According to the original timeline...
In a few years, once Dumbledore died, Grindelwald would orchestrate his own death at Voldemort's hands as a kind of twisted love-suicide—choosing to follow his dear friend into the afterlife.
But that story had long since gone off the rails.
The canon could only weep in its grave.
The moment he heard that Dumbledore had been taken over by someone else, Grindelwald simply strolled out of his own prison as if he were out shopping.
After all, he built that prison himself.
The idea that it could truly hold him was laughable.
Dumbledore had locked him there under the assumption that when Gellert was ready, he'd leave on his own.
Turns out Grindelwald was even more stubborn than Dumbledore imagined, staying inside for decades purely out of spite.
After his escape, Grindelwald headed straight to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where he made serious inquiries about Dumbledore and Orsaga.
Using Legilimency, McGonagall extracted memories from the scene, and Grindelwald quickly realized he couldn't solve the situation alone.
So, he brought McGonagall and others to the summit.
Surveying the chaos among the various magical factions, McGonagall sighed, "Honestly, I think they're more likely to arrest you than join forces against Orsaga."
As someone who had once tried to expose the entire magical world, Grindelwald had made plenty of enemies.
You could say he had enemies everywhere.
Thinking he could show up now and find allies? That was a bit too optimistic.
But Grindelwald merely chuckled and said, "Don't worry. I'll make it work."
Then he stepped forward gracefully and cast an illusion spell with his wand that drew everyone's attention.
The moment people got a good look at him, their eyes widened with recognition.
Before long, someone shouted in rage, raising their wand—or whatever casting tool they used—and aimed a spell at him.
Grindelwald had almost triggered a world war in the magical community. The amount of hatred he carried was off the charts.
At least half the attendees had a personal grudge against him.
Unfazed by their fury and suspicion, Grindelwald greeted them with poise:
"Everyone... It's been a long time."
Though decades had passed, his commanding presence remained unchanged.
But to his surprise, the first voice he heard wasn't an insult—it was one of joy:
"Milord, you're out?!"
Grindelwald turned toward the voice and saw an old but familiar face—one of his former followers, aged but still recognizable.
A flicker of nostalgia crossed his eyes.
"It really has been a long time. But let's catch up after I deal with this."
With those words, he conjured a series of steps beneath his feet using a Transfiguration Charm, rising slowly so everyone could see him clearly.
Standing high above the crowd, he looked around with a radiant smile before laughing boldly:
"I, Gellert Grindelwald, am back!"
Instantly, the crowd erupted into chaos.
The atmosphere was akin to regular people witnessing Hitler come back to life.
_____
T/N:
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