In the black and white world.
All was silent; after the Ravens departed, the God of Death was sealed, and those Dementors gradually receded, leaving only Ian and the sealed God of Death at the volcano's rim.
"Gurgle~ Gurgle~ Gurgle~"
The volcano's lava bubbled.
The bubbles initially expanded slowly, their surfaces glowing with an eerie orange-red sheen. As the internal pressure intensified, they began to tremble violently, edges twisting and stretching like molten glass. Suddenly, an explosive "pop" occurred as a bubble burst open, and scalding gases spewed forth, hurling fragments of volcanic glass.
The remaining magma quickly filled the void like melted syrup, only to be pushed up again by new bubbles—this was clearly due to the excessive "fuel" the Raven had used while forging that infant.
Now, even though the Raven had left with its creation, the raging volcano had yet to calm. Ian initially thought about checking if there was anything left inside, wondering if he could push the crystal sealing the God of Death into the volcano—after all, he had already verified that he seemed capable of interfering with history.
Because of this.
Ian approached.
Unexpectedly.
Perhaps his intentions were detected by the God of Death, or for some other reason, the God of Death's immobilized body could still swivel its crimson, hidden gaze beneath its black hood.
At that moment.
Ian stood at the volcano's edge, feeling an unprecedented sense of oppression.
The gaze of the God of Death pierced through the crystal sealing him.
Scarlet pupils abruptly locked onto Ian.
In that instant, a chill pierced Ian's bones like a blade—He saw him.
It wasn't an ordinary stare, but a soul-penetrating gaze. It seemed to want to extract his existence from the river of time, to re-examine, redefine, and archive it.
"Wow, that startled me."
Ian's heart leaped suddenly.
His whole body stiffened.
He felt like a thief caught in the act, overwhelmed by the oppressive force emanating from the God of Death.
This wasn't possible.
Since stepping into this black and white world, the God of Death had never looked at him. Whether forging the Deathly Hallows or battling with the Raven, His gaze always remained on those directly clashing with Him.
From past events.
Ian knew he had always been an observer, an entity existing outside of destiny. Even though he had intervened in history and influenced the past, he had never truly been "seen."
But now, those crimson eyes were fixed on him. And, at a moment when he should never have been noticed. Could the God of Death possess the ability to glimpse into the future from the past?
Would this lead to retribution from the God of Death?
Ian's fingertips trembled slightly as he instinctively tightened his grip on the Magic Staff. Countless thoughts flashed through his mind—escape? Fight? Or... turn into a Raven and peck out His eyes?
Just as this wild thought emerged, the God of Death spoke first.
"There's another round."
The low, hoarse voice was like rusted iron grinding, deep, cold, yet carrying an irresistible authority. It didn't sound like a threat, nor a warning, but more like a calm summary after a game of chess.
This was not yet the endgame.
As soon as the words fell, the entire world began to collapse.
A crack appeared in the space.
Not a simple fracture but a tearing of reality itself. The gray sky shattered into countless fine lines, resembling a broken mirror continuously crumbling. The black and white volcano began to collapse from the top, with the pitch-black magma solidifying into sharp crystals, only to turn to dust as they fell.
Even the God of Death himself appeared like a pencil drawing erased by a rubber, his outline gradually blurring, as if being pulled back into his dimension by an invisible force.
Transforming into tiny specks of black mist, slowly dissipating in the air.
Ian stood still, watching everything unfold, feeling his body gradually lose its weight. The ashen ground beneath him was collapsing, but he did not fall; instead, he hovered in the void.
He neither struggled nor attempted to resist.
Because he knew this wasn't destruction.
This was... once again detaching from a time and space of the past. He could feel this black and white world being utterly erased, replaced by an entirely new environment.
No more volcano.
At the same time.
"The world has returned to normal."
Ian saw the Magic Wand tightly clutched in his hand—the previously black and white hue was gradually fading, the wand restoring its normal color, clearly signifying the return of color.
"Crunch—"
The first wisp of color fell from the sky like the first light of dawn piercing through the darkness. Initially a faint blue, the gray sky began to show a subtle blue hue.
Next, a faint gold.
That was the color of the sun.
Fine textures appeared on the rock surfaces, and the once monotonous volcanic rim now displayed distinct layers of shadow and sheen. The air grew warm, no longer deathly cold, but infused with the warmth of life. Finally, vibrant red... the world's colors surged back like a tide, filling every inch of space.
When the last black and white fragment vanished, Ian swayed violently, his feet regaining contact with solid ground.
The wind gusted once again.
Ian looked up.
Watching the clouds flow slowly past, sunlight beamed through the gaps, illuminating his face.
"Finally, standing firm again, I've been through many different surreal journeys; this one was the most bizarre." He blinked to confirm it wasn't an illusion.