Ian didn't expect.
Having just witnessed a piece of the past, the world shattered, and once again stood on the land beneath his feet. This was still a piece of the past, the past where the God of Death forged the Three Sacred Artifacts of Death.
Possessing the three Deathly Hallows can make one a "Master of Death." This is clearly an incorrect statement. Obviously, the current facts have proven that the Three Sacred Artifacts of Death were just a conspiracy by the God of Death.
As for the purpose of the conspiracy.
Ian did not know.
He only knew that the God of Death did indeed add a curse to the Three Sacred Artifacts of Death.
He has already seen the true past.
A past that was never written into any book.
The reality hidden behind the black and white world.
Unlike the depiction in the Poet's Bean Story Collection of the God of Death snapping a tree branch and picking up a stone, it is clear that the God of Death still needed to follow the laws of Alchemy to forge magic props.
It's normal.
After all, the Poet's Bean Story Collection is ultimately just a fairy tale, and the author of it was merely a 19th-century wizard.
Being able to understand some truths is already impressive, and it's certainly impossible to specifically elaborate on the God of Death's plot—however, it is evident that the Three Sacred Artifacts of Death did not bring good fortune to their bearers.
This can be seen from the fate of the three brothers in the Poet's Bean Story Collection, and actually, wizards have already faintly realized that there is a problem with the Three Sacred Artifacts of Death.
It fell into oblivion during a period of time.
Presumably.
It's not without reason.
If a wizard cared about the future generations and didn't want them to be affected by the Three Sacred Artifacts of Death. However, the four founders, as well as other brilliant wizards, still found it.
Voldemort's story.
No one knows if it's due to the appearance of the Three Sacred Artifacts of Death.
"Anyway, I guess I'll have to ask the old principal to borrow a magic wand for research when I go back and see what tricks the God of Death pulled on the Deathly Hallows."
Ian stood on the edge of the volcano, watching the silent black and white world after the God of Death left.
Deathly Hallows…
Why did the God of Death reforge them?
Who is he avoiding?
Just as he was pondering this, the sky began to stir again. He originally thought everything was over, but just as he was about to turn around and find a way to leave this "past" and head towards the true Misty Illusion Realm, the sky once again resonated with a deep rumbling sound. That noise seemed to come from the depths of time.
Carrying an indescribable majesty and mystery.
He looked up—A silhouette pierced through the gray sky, moving swiftly, like an arrow soaring downwards.
It was the Raven.
It appeared again, its wings spread, covering the sky and blotting out the sun, its feathers like ink, still juxtaposing awkwardly in the black and white world. Its eyes were deep as an abyss and gleamed blood-red.
Flashing with the wisdom not belonging to a mundane bird.
Just like Ian's extraordinary wisdom, it could hold its own.
The Raven was clearly not here to find the God of Death.
This time.
It did not come alone.
Behind it.
Groups and flocks of Dementors were flying slowly.
Their figures like worn-out cloaks, drifting in the wind yet without any breeze to rely on. They have no faces, only voids under their hoods that hide something which devours all light. They wandered among the ruins like a host of ghosts lost outside time, but now, they were no longer free roamers.
They were laborers. Dozens, hundreds… The densely packed Dementors converged from all directions like clouds, floating around the volcano, extending pale arms from under their rotting cloaks, holding various items—black minerals, glowing bones, cursed metals.
Were they transporting materials for the Raven?
Ian's pupils contracted slightly. In his understanding, Dementors were the minions of the God of Death, guardians of Azkaban, black magic creatures that devoured happiness. Yet, at this moment, they were serving the Raven silently like laborers. Hence, the ones the Dementors have always served was the Raven, not the God of Death?
Or perhaps this whole race of Dementors was created by the Raven?
Or kidnapped servants from the God of Death?
The Raven fluttered downwards again, holding something indistinguishable in its beak, and accurately flung it into the boiling volcano. Subsequently, the Raven landed on a protruding rock at the volcano's mouth, its red eyes scanning the surroundings, then suddenly spread its wings wide, letting out a piercing screech. Immediately, those Dementors also started to take action.
Including those Dementors that had previously been wandering at the mountain's base.
They transported various strange materials from all directions—broken magic wands, shattered rune stones, soul fragments corroded by dark arts… In the black and white world, sometimes it was difficult for Ian to distinguish the appearance of the materials. Everything was thrown into the volcano, transforming into billowing black smoke, filling the entire space with a bizarre aura.
The whole volcano trembled.
The color of the magma gradually transformed from pure black to dark.
"The Raven is also forging something."
Ian stood in place.
His expression gradually became surprised.
He finally understood.
This volcano is not merely a naturally formed geological wonder.
It is an alchemical forge of a higher existence.
A place that connects life and death, reshaping destinies.
And the Raven… is the true master here.
He recalled a phrase Lady Ravenclaw mentioned before:
"This place once belonged to the God of Death, later chased away by the Raven."