After some intense effort, Damian finally extracted the truth from Jack's mind.
As he had suspected, the mutated Old White's attack on 56 Riverside Street was not a random rampage. It was a targeted assassination orchestrated entirely by Jack.
Even more absurdly, the two Dark Wizards who had ambushed Damian on the night of the banquet had also been hired by the noble. Jack's obsession with Madam Alsha was incredibly twisted; simply because Damian had shared the opening dance with her, Jack viewed the young contractor as a romantic rival who needed to be eliminated.
Damian truly could not comprehend such pathetic, irrational logic.
Jack's gaze was dull and unfocused. To facilitate the interrogation, Damian had lifted the paralyzing curse of the Basilisk eye and forced three drops of Veritaserum down the man's throat.
A person's mind is not a book that can be flipped through at will, nor are thoughts carved into stone to be easily read. Memories and emotions are incredibly complex, multi-layered constructs.
Therefore, even with his mastery of Legilimency, Damian could not simply browse Jack's memories like a library. He needed to use verbal prompts and the truth serum to trigger emotional fluctuations, forcing the relevant memories to the surface.
Damian's eyes narrowed as he stared deep into Jack's pupils. "How did you mutate your father into that abomination?" he asked softly.
Jack's face twisted in a brief, agonizing struggle. This was his deepest secret, but under the absolute compulsion of the Veritaserum, he could not hide it.
"A few months ago, my good friend Thor Griffin introduced me to the Mining Brotherhood," Jack said, his voice slow and monotone. "He taught me an esoteric Dream Entry Ritual. By entering a deep trance, one can project their consciousness into the realm of a deity, where the deity bestows divine grace."
"The 'Divine Brew' was a gift I obtained in my sleep," Jack continued. "After I slipped the Divine Brew into my father's wine, his body began to mutate."
Divine grace? Deities? Damian felt a chill run down his spine. How did a local missing persons case suddenly involve gods?
Damian had studied the lore of this world extensively. There were no actual "deities" in the wizarding world. Modern wizards revered historical figures like Merlin or the Hogwarts Founders, but there were zero credible records of divine miracles ever occurring.
"During this dream, did you actually see the deity who bestowed this grace? Are you a follower of this god?" Damian asked carefully. For the sake of caution, he did not demand the deity's name. If such an entity truly existed, speaking its name aloud might draw its attention.
"I have never seen the deity, nor am I a believer," Jack replied blankly.
"If you haven't seen it and don't worship it, how did you obtain its grace?" Damian asked, genuinely surprised.
"That is just how the Mining Brotherhood refers to it," Jack answered. "I only joined the Brotherhood for the power and the Gold Coins. I don't believe in any gods."
"In fact, most members of the Brotherhood are just like me. We are simply exchanging resources to get what we want," Jack explained. "The Dream Entry Ritual was passed down by the inner circle of the Brotherhood."
"When you perform the ritual, your mind enters a 'Divine Kingdom' blanketed in thick mist. Performing the ritual in different physical locations anchors you to different areas within the dream realm."
"The 'Divine Brew' I found was just the sap of a strange plant growing in that mist. The cultists in the Brotherhood just claim that everything harvested in that realm is a gift from a god."
Damian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. This "Divine Kingdom" sounded exactly like an alternate dimension, and the Dream Entry Ritual was simply a magical bridge to project one's consciousness into it.
The Department of Mysteries had long theorized about the existence of alternate dimensions, often referring to them as parallel planes or the Void.
In ancient times, horrific extra-dimensional incursions had occurred, documented in the oldest, most restricted sections of magical libraries. Damian remembered reading about these ancient wars in Chris's study.
Thousands of years ago, entities from other dimensions had attempted to plunder the wizarding world's ambient magic. While the ancient wizards had successfully repelled the invaders, the magical foundation of the world had been permanently scarred.
Because of that ancient cataclysm, the number of truly god-like wizards had dwindled over the centuries.
To this day, it had been over a thousand years since a Grand Sorcerer of Merlin's caliber had walked the earth. Nowadays, standard qualified wizards formed the backbone of magical society. Elite duelists and Syndicate Operatives represented the upper echelon of combatants, while only the most powerful Archmages could earn a seat as a Syndicate Councilor.
Damian continued his questioning. "Have you ever seen this supposed deity perform a miracle?"
"Never."
Damian smirked. It was exactly as he suspected; someone in the Mining Brotherhood was using the resources of an alternate dimension as a pretext to establish a cult.
Naturally, rational, self-serving wizards like Jack wouldn't blindly worship an ethereal god without seeing a miracle. Most of the Brotherhood were just opportunistic scavengers looting a magical dimension.
A thought suddenly occurred to Damian. "Why is a cult made mostly of wizards and goblins called the Mining Brotherhood?"
"Performing the Dream Entry Ritual deep underground inside a physical mine makes it easier to anchor your consciousness to the 'treasure lands' within the mist," Jack answered truthfully. "Therefore, the Brotherhood was formed to aggressively acquire and control physical mines across the region."
As Jack spoke, flashes of his memories surfaced in Damian's mind. Damian finally understood: the physical depth of the mines somehow bridged the gap, making it easier to access resource-rich zones in the alternate dimension.
"Is the Dream Entry Ritual dangerous?" Damian asked.
At the question, Jack's paralyzed body began to violently tremble. A look of absolute, primal terror seized his features.
"Dangerous? Of course it is," Jack stammered. "If you fail to anchor to a 'treasure land,' there is a high probability you will manifest in a 'forbidden zone.'"
"There, you will encounter the Divine Attendants. They will instantly slaughter any living soul that encroaches upon their territory. And even if you evade the Divine Attendants, it is incredibly easy to lose your mind to the mist and wander the forbidden zones forever."
"I... I once almost got lost in a forbidden zone."
Through the surface memories flickering in Jack's eyes, Damian saw flashes of a terrifying, misty landscape. Because Jack had performed his ritual inside a mine, he had been lucky enough to stumble into a safe zone before the Divine Attendants found him.
Damian felt a twinge of disappointment that he couldn't get a clear look at these otherworldly Divine Attendants from Jack's fragmented memories.
Damian asked his final question. "What other experiments were you hiding in the basement? Where did you move them tonight?"
"Besides my father, I had several other human test subjects," Jack confessed. "I also tested the Divine Brew on magical creatures, but the mutations weren't as strong as they were in wizards. I have one subject with incredible potential... I transferred all of them to Thor Griffin tonight."
Thor Griffin. The White Stone Town branch leader of the Mining Brotherhood.
Having extracted every useful piece of information, Damian raised his wand. He didn't hesitate.
"Diffindo."
A powerful, invisible blade of magic whipped through the air, severing Jack's neck cleanly.
The Veritaserum wore off just as the curse struck. For a fraction of a second, Jack's eyes regained their clarity—filling with sheer terror, resentment, and bitter unwillingness. But he was powerless to change his fate.
His severed head thumped onto the floorboards, rolling silently beneath the four-poster bed.
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