0732 The Divine Judgment

There was no single, decisive spell capable of ending it all in one magnificent blow—no ultimate incantation that could bring this confrontation to its inevitable conclusion.

Instead, the two warring sides were locked in the most primitive, brutal, and savage form of slaughter that the magical world had witnessed in generations. This was magical combat stripped of all pretense and elegance, reduced to its most basic essence: kill or be killed, survive or perish, with no middle ground between victory and death.

Bryan’s eyes had gradually returned to their original natural brown color. Yet despite this return to normalcy, his entire body continued to radiate an absolutely chilling aura of death and destruction like a sharp blade that had tasted blood and found it sweet.

He continuously waved his wand in complex, fluid patterns to maintain the magnificent fire python. With cold, calculated efficiency, he controlled the golden serpent to thoroughly massacre the desperately resisting wizards scattered throughout the grand hall.

If the outside world were to witness this unprecedented scene of magical massacre, Bryan would likely earn a reputation that would surpass even the dark legend of Voldemort, and he would achieve this infamy long before he could even hope to succeed Dumbledore!

This was a holy war fought with wands instead of swords, magic instead of steel!

Devotees utterly loyal to their mysterious ‘God’—those true believers who had given their hearts, souls, and minds completely to their cause willingly and gladly sacrificed their lives for their unshakeable faith, ascending toward their twisted version of paradise in dazzling, purifying golden flames that consumed their bodies but, they believed, liberated their eternal spirits.

Meanwhile, those hypocritical ‘false guardians’ who used faith as nothing more than a convenient excuse and justification while actually indulging their darkest, most evil desires and satisfying their hunger for power and cruelty, began to retreat with increasing desperation when their own lives became seriously threatened.

As the merciless battle continued to rage with fury, consuming everything in its path like a wildfire that could never be extinguished, purgatory itself seemed to descend upon the once-grand hall, transforming it into a nightmarish landscape that would have made Dante himself weep with horror.

The air became dense with smoke and ash, while the floor was covered in rivers of flowing, molten lava. In this hellish sea of liquid fire, white bones, the skeletal remains of the fallen—rose and fell like grotesque islands in an ocean of destruction, creating a chilling scene that spoke of the ultimate futility of resistance against such overwhelming power!

The golden sun that had appeared at the Quidditch World Cup Final, that godly manifestation of Bryan’s incredible magical abilities that had awed thousands of spectators, appeared once again in all its terrible glory, but this time it was not a display of wonder—it was a tool of divine wrath.

Bryan stood at the center of massive golden fireball condensed from pure, concentrated lava. Slowly, majestically, he began rising into the air, supported by surging magical power, coldly observing the surviving base wizards cowering far below him like insects in front of a wrathful god.

The surface of the golden blazing sun that completely surrounded Bryan’s ascending form continuously erupted with fleeting, dancing ‘fire streams’.

He raised his wand high above his head and immediately the restless ‘fire streams’ responded to his will, quickly gathering above the wand’s tip as if drawn by some irresistible magnetic attraction. The streams swirled faster and faster, their golden light growing ever more intense, finally condensing and solidifying into a dazzlingly gleaming sword of flame!

Like a God preparing to deliver divine punishment upon unworthy mortals, Bryan’s indifferent voice echoed through the hellish land that the hall had become while his body—appearing gigantic by the optical effects of the blazing sun that surrounded him radiated pressure as tangible and crushing as a collapsing mountain.

“I’ll only say this once, and I will not repeat myself again,” Bryan gazed down emotionlessly at the survivors.

“Drop your wands immediately and surrender yourselves, or die here in this place—all of you, without exception, without mercy.”

Looking up with growing terror at that blurred, almost divine figure floating, witnessing with their own eyes someone who remained completely unharmed and untouched despite hundreds of their desperate attacks, and had already killed most of their companions, feeling the scorching heat that made their skin feel as if it were blistering and the murderous aura that pressed against their skin, gradually the fierce, defiant expressions of the remaining resisters began to calm and fade, becoming lost, hopeless, and filled with the despair.

Clatter—

The sound echoed through the sudden silence like a death knell as a wand fell to the scorched ground.

“We can’t possibly defeat him,” someone said with the hollow voice of complete despair, stating the obvious truth that everyone had been trying desperately to deny. “This isn’t a battle anymore—it’s an execution, and we’re nothing but prisoners waiting for our turn.”

“This… this is a new deity walking among us mortals,” someone else whispered with religious awe, unconsciously bowing down on the hot ground, tears streaming down their face. “This is the Power of Gods, we have witnessed the birth of a god.”

Clatter, clatter, clatter—

More wands fell to the ground in rapid succession. Gradually, the thunderous roar of magical combat and the sporadic flashes of colored spelllight that had illuminated the hall like a deadly fireworks display completely disappeared, leaving behind only the dazzling golden sun slowly, majestically descending toward the ground.

Awe, fear, worship—these were the only emotions that remained in the hearts of the survivors.

Bryan landed on the scorched ground with a soft thud that seemed anticlimactically quiet after the tremendous noise of battle.

He observed his surroundings with the calm satisfaction of someone who had accomplished exactly what he had set out to do, carefully taking in the faces of the survivors, basking in their reverent gazes that mixed terror with something approaching religious devotion, his expression remained completely calm and controlled.

But in the depths of his heart, hidden behind his composed face, a small ripple stirred—an emotion that he had not expected to feel.

It was undeniably, powerfully tempting—this possibility of becoming a ‘God’ or possessing the powers of ‘God’ of having entire populations, Wizards and Muggles worship and fear him, of wielding the kind of absolute power that could reshape the world according to his own will.

The seductive allure of ultimate power whispered in his mind, painting pictures of a world where his word was law, where none would dare oppose him, where he could impose his vision of justice and order without interference or resistance from others who lacked the wisdom to understand his purpose.

But this dangerous, seductive thought existed in Bryan’s mind for only a brief, fleeting moment before being extinguished by his will, his consciousness returned to the path of reason and moral constraint that he had chosen for himself long ago.

He had not fought this battle to become a tyrant or a false god.

Whoosh—

As Bryan slowly lowered his wand once again, the abandoned wands scattered across the ground throughout the hall suddenly shot through the air with sharp, whistling sounds. They flew in perfect formation, each following a precise trajectory, before embedding themselves point-first in the small circle of undamaged ground that remained around Louise’s feet.

The wand tips, still warm from their recent use, then ejected long, strong ropes that had been enchanted with powerful Anti-Apparition charms to firmly bind the surviving base wizards, ensuring that none could escape.

“Please, we beg you, have mercy and forgive us, Mr. Watson,” came the broken voice of someone who had finally accepted the complete futility of resistance.

Faced with the harsh reality of their situation, someone among the survivors finally broke down completely, knelt on the hot ground and began sobbing.

“I still have children at home—innocent children who have done nothing wrong, who need their father to return to them. Please, I beg you, consider their fate if not mine—”

This heartfelt plea seemed to sound a horn of collective self-reflection and desperate hope.

More and more of the captured wizards began pleading their supposed innocence to Bryan, their voices creating a chorus of desperation and regret, each hoping to receive his forgiveness and mercy.

Some invented stories of coercion and blackmail, others claimed to have been just following orders, and still others protested that they had never personally harmed anyone despite their association with the organization.

“You will receive fair judgment according to the laws of the wizarding world—”

When Bryan began to speak, the noisy hall immediately fell silent enough that the sound of a pin dropping would have echoed like thunder.

Every person present held their breath, waiting to hear their fate pronounced by the man who had just demonstrated power beyond their wildest imagination.

“If you’re willing to voluntarily confess your crimes in detail and provide information that will help, bring other criminals to justice, the International Confederation of Wizards and the various Ministries of Magic will seriously consider reducing your sentences accordingly—”

The group of people who had completely lost their will to resist and were now faced with the prospect of spending the rest of their lives in magical prisons were eager to confess every crime they had ever committed or witnessed.

They wanted desperately to approach Bryan immediately to make their detailed confessions, to pour out every secret they knew in hopes of earning some measure of mercy, but none of them dared to get close to him without his clear permission, still terrified of triggering his wrath despite his apparent mercy.

Louise stood frozen in place like a statue, watching this incredible scene unfold in front of her eyes, looking at that upright figure’s broad back as he dealt with the aftermath of the battle with calm authority. She opened her mouth several times as if to speak, but couldn’t find any words suitable to express the overwhelming mixture of emotions she was experiencing.

It was all about to end—this nightmare that had begun with her brother’s death and led her into a world she had never imagined could exist.

Bryan slowly turned to look at Louise, his expression softening somewhat as his eyes met hers. He beckoned to her with a gentle gesture, and Louise felt her body automatically float up through the air with the same careful control he had shown throughout the battle, slowly settling in a specific position in the hall.

She looked down in growing confusion at the man lying at her feet beside a pile of solidified but still glowing hot lava, his body was severely burned and barely recognizable as human. Her bewildered eyes, which had been wide with shock throughout the battle, gradually regained some of their natural color as she realized who it was.

Angus Aeschylus

Surprisingly, during the recent devastating melee that had taken so many lives, this Obscurial who had been tormented and weakened was still clinging to life—though barely breathing.

Obscurials, as Bryan knew, possessed greater raw magical power than ordinary wizards, but they also had more fragile lives, their bodies were unable to withstand the constant stress of containing such volatile energy for longer period of time.

Aeschylus hadn’t lost consciousness yet, though unconsciousness would have been a mercy.

With his hair completely burned away, leaving his scalp smooth and scarred, and half his face severely scorched with burns that would never heal properly, he still somehow held onto that last precious thread of life.

He watched Bryan Watson’s approaching footsteps with eyes that burned with fever and pain, making a weak ‘heh heh’ laughing sound that was more disturbing than any scream would have been, his eyes were still refusing to admit defeat even in the face of inevitable death.

Looking down at the Obscurial whose life was flickering like a candle in a strong wind, ready to be extinguished at any moment, Bryan’s brown pupils once again showed faint traces of compassion—not for the crimes the man had committed, but for the suffering that had driven him to commit them.

While Aeschylus wasn’t the main mastermind behind Hermione’s incident, he still had committed sins that he must answer for, those debts could only be paid with his life.

“Did you kill Fraser Williams?” Bryan asked directly.

Aeschylus’s pain-filled eyes showed slight confusion, as if the name meant nothing to him, as if he had killed so many people that separate victims had become meaningless statistics rather than human beings with names and families who mourned them.

“The Inferi you created and left in Cokeworth,” Bryan clarified calmly, providing more specific details to help the dying man remember.

Quietly, with obvious effort, Aeschylus opened his mouth with difficulty, his damaged throat was producing a torn, hoarse voice:

“You… you did all this… just for that Muggle?”

The question carried disbelief, contempt, and a kind of twisted amazement that someone of Bryan’s power would concern himself with the death of someone Aeschylus considered beneath notice.

“This is the man who killed your brother, Louise,” Bryan said quietly.

Bang—

A three-foot-long spike of concentrated fire emerged from Bryan’s wand tip with a sharp sound. He held the wand upside down, reversing his grip on the handle, and placed the weapon carefully in Louise’s trembling hand.

“He is the reason you first entered the wizarding world, kill him with your own hand, and your revenge will finally be complete.”

Louise stared down at the fire spike in her small hand, her entire body was trembling slightly.

“This is Fraser Williams’s younger sister, Louise Williams, Thanks to her help and determination, I was able to track you down and find you so quickly ” Bryan said, looking down at Aeschylus who was staring up at Louise. “She asked me to help her find her brother’s killer.”

Hiss hiss—

Aeschylus laughed, his wheezing laughter sounding both somewhat comical and rather tragic.

“You, Watson… you… for the sake of Muggles and their meaningless lives… you destroyed us?”

“Is there a problem with that?” Bryan replied simply, as if the question answered itself.

The murderous aura that had surrounded Bryan throughout the battle was completely gone now. Now he seemed more like a patient professor discussing abstract magical knowledge with interested students.

“Very… very good,” Aeschylus managed to say through his gasping breaths.

He closed his eyes slowly, as if the effort of keeping them open had become too much to bear, seemingly allowing his mind to drift back to some past event that brought him a moment of peace.

A single tear seeped from the corner of his closed eye, cutting a clean path through the dirt and blood on his damaged face.

“You’re admirable, Watson,” Aeschylus spoke with a resigned tone that carried the tone of a man who had finally accepted his fate and found a strange kind of peace in that acceptance.

“Kill me, Louise Williams. Take your revenge and avenge your brother’s death.”

“No!” Louise suddenly snapped back to full awareness, as if waking from a dream.

She stepped back two paces quickly, distancing herself from the dying man and the weapon she held, and the fire spike slipped from her fingers, embedding itself harmlessly in the ground where it continued to burn.

“No… I… I don’t have that right,”

Facing Bryan’s inquiring gaze, Louise’s face was pale but determined. Her dry lips moved as she shook her head in small, definitive movements, repeating somewhat frantically but with growing conviction:

“I can’t… I… I don’t have that right to take a life. That’s not who I am, and it’s not who I want to become.”

“He’ll be sentenced to death anyway,” Bryan pointed out reasonably, his voice carrying no judgment about her choice though Louise’s unexpected refusal made Bryan smile.

“If you don’t kill him now, you’ll never again have the opportunity to enjoy the personal satisfaction of revenge, the closure that comes from taking justice into your own hands. Are you absolutely certain you want to give up that chance, Louise?”

“I cannot!” Louise’s response was immediate and firm.

Bryan’s words, rather than weakening her resolve, instead made Louise more certain of her choice. She breathed slightly heavily from the emotional strain of the moment, but her clear eyes looked directly into Bryan’s with determination:

“Since I’ve already found him and brought him to justice, since I’ve seen him defeated and helpless, let the wizarding law judge him according to his crimes.”

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