The sensation of withdrawing from the Twilight Zone felt like being forcibly pulled from a deep dream.
Ian felt his consciousness enveloped by an invisible force, his body as light as if weightless. The surrounding sounds gradually faded away, as if muffled by a thick curtain of water.
He tried to grasp something, but his hands closed on nothing.
The scene before him rapidly disintegrated. The castle, books, and starry sky dissolved into swirling motes of light, scattering in all directions. His consciousness floated adrift in this void.
Until a warm light engulfed him.
Ian returned to the mortal realm.
This was a familiar experience for Ian, so he didn't react with surprise. Even before opening his eyes, he heard a gentle yet slightly exasperated voice:
"No, Claire, you absolutely cannot use Phoenix to make soup. Even though it's an undying bird, that doesn't mean it enjoys being treated like this." Dumbledore argued gently but firmly with someone.
Immediately afterward, Female Titan Claire's voice rang out.
"But, future dweller," another voice countered with a hint of righteous indignation, "my Phoenix can be stewed, and every time I eat her, she always regenerates."
"And she seems to quite enjoy the sensation," the Female Titan added, her words carrying a primal air. She even remarked that Phoenix's feathers tasted like enoki mushrooms.
It's unclear how she knew what enoki mushrooms tasted like.
Enoki mushrooms originated in the ancient north, with artificial cultivation tracing back to the Tang Dynasty. According to Jia Sixie's Essential Techniques for Managing the People from the Northern Wei Dynasty, cultivation methods for enoki mushrooms first emerged during that era.
Wild enoki mushrooms are yellow.
During the Tang Dynasty, they were known as "small fire mushrooms," "winter mushrooms," or "frozen mushrooms."
In 1932, a white-stemmed variety of enoki mushroom was developed in Japan. In 1982, the Fujian Sanming Institute of Edible Fungi bred China's first domestic enoki mushroom cultivar, "Sanming No. 1."
This was clearly not something a Titan from ancient times should know. However, as a Seer, it was possible she had tasted it in a dream through her prophetic abilities.
It was a truly baffling situation.
"My dear Titan," Dumbledore's voice was gentle yet tinged with helplessness, "Fawkes is a companion, truly not food. He is not something to be eaten when you're hungry."
He was still trying to explain this to the Female Titan.
"No way! Eating a Phoenix? That's outrageous! Even more outrageous than eating Phoenix eggs!" Ian's eyes snapped open, and he found himself lying on a plush sofa.
He sat up and took in the scene before him: Dumbledore sitting on a chair by the sofa, Fawkes trembling in his arms, feathers bristling, eyes fixed warily on the tall, chef-clad girl across from them—the Female Titan, Claire. Her towering three-meter frame was anything but petite.
Three-meter-tall Female Titan Claire wielded a gleaming kitchen knife in one hand, while her other hand held a steaming cauldron filled with a liquid bubbling with spices.
Potions.
And ginger slices—yes, ginger slices. Native to the tropical regions of Southeast Asia, the earliest recorded domestication of ginger dates back only about 5,000 years before Ian's time.
In the current era, no one knew how many billions of years ago that was.
Heaven only knew why ginger slices still existed here. Perhaps, like enoki mushrooms, the Female Titan had manufactured tangible versions of things she had "seen" from the future.
Such a notion seemed reasonable.
After all, Titans could create all living things. Creating a few enoki mushrooms or ginger slices would hardly be extraordinary. Ian even spotted Sichuan peppercorns and chili peppers in the cauldron. For a Female Titan with both creative power and the ability to glimpse the future, her standard of living was indeed remarkably advanced for this era.
Claire noticed Ian waking up, a smirk playing on her lips. "You're finally awake, Professor."
"Ugh..." Ian rubbed his temples, his gaze darting between the two of them. "You two... were seriously discussing using Phoenix as a dish?"
"She was the one discussing it," Dumbledore corrected wearily.
"I was merely trying to prevent her from turning my Fawkes into dinner." The old headmaster's expression was genuinely anxious, as if he truly feared she might force him to hand over Fawkes.
Even as a legendary wizard, facing a creature like a Titan still left him feeling powerless.
"Don't be such a miser," Claire shrugged, with no intention of forcing the issue. "Phoenixes die and are reborn anyway. A single bite won't hurt."
She was simply trying to persuade Dumbledore to sacrifice Fawkes so that everyone could be happy—the Female Titan seemed particularly eager to know if the Phoenix meat of later generations was even more succulent.
Ian listened, dumbfounded.
"This is utterly absurd... You'd even stew your own Phoenix?" He remembered the words he'd overheard when he first awoke, and truly couldn't fathom such a partnership.
"Of course," Claire replied with a smug nod. "Mine is called Emberplume. She adores being stewed in her own broth. Every time, she insists we add more mushrooms next time."
Whether this was one of Claire's tall tales remained uncertain. After all, if it were true, her Phoenix might be as mentally unstable as its owner.
Then again, it made a certain kind of sense.
Abnormal people keep abnormal pets—just like Ian keeping a Dementor.
"..."
Ian was momentarily speechless, turning to Dumbledore. "How can you even tolerate being in the same room as her?"
"Adaptability is part of survival," Dumbledore said with a gentle smile, stroking Fawkes's feathers to soothe the phoenix's agitation. His words, as always, carried profound wisdom.
After speaking, the old headmaster gave Ian a thorough once-over, his blue eyes twinkling with satisfaction behind his half-moon spectacles. "You've awakened at precisely the right moment."
Whether this was a reference to Ian's timely intervention or some other reason remained unclear. Just as Ian was about to speak, Claire abruptly dropped her kitchen knife and eagerly approached him, her violet-gold eyes brimming with curiosity. "How was it? What did you learn? Did you recall anything?"
She used the word "recall."
"Uh..." Ian rubbed his temples. His mind still felt somewhat hazy. "Still hazy..."
The young wizard paused, then glanced suspiciously at Claire. "Is this your fault? The anomalies I encountered in the Twilight Zone... I think I saw echoes of history."
There was no point in concealing his ability to enter the Twilight Zone. The Female Titan was a Seer; even if he didn't tell her, she would undoubtedly know.
Besides, this Female Titan seemed to know Ian quite well. As for Dumbledore, there was even less reason to hide anything, since he had long been aware of Ian's ability to travel between worlds.
"No, it has nothing to do with me," Claire replied flatly, her gaze so disarmingly candid that it was impossible to fault. "You simply felt it was time to remember something."
"At most, I was just a catalyst," the zealous woman insisted, sticking to her original claim that Ian lacked Raven's memories because he refused to recall them.
To this, Ian found it difficult to formulate a coherent response.
The young wizard stared at the Female Titan for a few seconds before finally sighing.
"...Alright," Ian said.
He stared into her eyes, trying to discern whether she was telling the truth or lying. But her gaze was so open and guileless, it was almost impossible to tell. He couldn't decide whether to believe her nonsensical ramblings.
After all, given the Female Titan's attempt to eat Fawkes, it was clear that even if she wasn't mentally unstable, her thought processes were certainly abnormal.
Which was only natural, really.
Titans and humans were fundamentally different species, merely capable of communication due to shared intelligence. Humans weren't direct creations of the Titans—the Gods were.
And in Ian's view, the Gods' thought processes were equally bizarre.
"Sometimes, the truth needs to be verified for yourself," Claire said, seemingly unconcerned by Ian's skepticism. She continued tinkering with her stew pot, now lacking Fawkes.
'I wonder if she plans to stew her Phoenix again?'
"Echoes of the past?"
Dumbledore gently stroked Fawkes's feathers. The Phoenix, still shaken from his recent ordeal, remained huddled in his arms, occasionally stealing glances at Claire, terrified she might suddenly bring up the soup again.
"It seems you've had quite an unusual adventure," Dumbledore remarked kindly. He didn't press for details, nor did he reveal whether he had learned anything from the Female Titan.
Perhaps Dumbledore simply lacked curiosity about such matters.
"Ariana and I played together all afternoon," Ian said, knowing what Dumbledore cared about most. With this simple sentence, he assured him that Ariana was doing well.
Upon hearing this, Dumbledore paused, a flicker of nostalgia and a gentle smile lighting his eyes. "Really? How is she?"
"She's doing well," Ian paused. "She even gave me a star candy."
Dumbledore chuckled softly.
"She's always been like that—using candy to express kindness," he said softly.
Ian smiled. "Professor, you remember things quite clearly."
"How could I not?" Dumbledore's eyes flickered, revealing a trace of nostalgia and envy. "Those were... truly extraordinary times."
It seemed the old headmaster still vividly recalled every detail of his youth, now cherishing the past more than ever, likely because he had recently experienced his own extraordinary adventure.
A brief silence settled over the room, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the rhythmic grinding of spices by Claire, who seemed determined to cook something special for dinner.
"Speaking of which, Professor," Ian turned to Dumbledore, finally asking the question that had been on his mind. "What brings you here? I thought I was the only one trapped here."
Ian could guess why Dumbledore was here—as headmaster of Hogwarts, he would naturally investigate any anomalies in the Forbidden Forest—but he needed confirmation.
Dumbledore smiled slightly, his words confirming Ian's suspicions: "Everyone has been very worried about you, so I came to find you—though it wasn't an easy task."
Ian raised an eyebrow. "You found a way to cross the Bronze Gate?"
"Yes," Dumbledore nodded.
"After you left, I devoted myself to studying the gate. It's not merely a key to time and dimensions, but also a test of wisdom. Only by understanding its fundamental principles can one truly master it."
The old headmaster spoke with the same scholarly air as ever.
Clearly, the Dumbledore who had been trapped in memories had passed the trials within the Bronze Gate, deciphered its mechanisms, and thus managed to reach the present era.
"So... you cracked its mechanism?" Ian asked.
Ian had always been fascinated by the Bronze Gate, but his own attempts to decipher it had failed. He was genuinely amazed by Dumbledore's success.
'Of course.'
He had no idea what Dumbledore had endured before achieving his breakthrough.
The old headmaster had entered the game himself.
Through countless "cycles," he had also been studying the Bronze Gate.
"You could say that," Dumbledore nodded. "I spent a great deal of time observing, calculating, and deducing, eventually discovering that it's essentially a system based on magical mathematics and causal logic."
"Once you understand its operating principles, you can find its operational records and pinpoint your location," the old headmaster explained how he had managed to descend accurately into this era.
Ian listened intently, captivated.
"You truly live up to your legendary reputation," he exclaimed sincerely.
"I simply possess more patience than most," Dumbledore replied humbly.
"By the way," Ian suddenly remembered something, probing whether Dumbledore truly possessed Ravenclaw's dissertation. "About the legend of 'Twelve Ancient Dragons Proving the Way by Killing the Dragon Slayer'... is that true?"
Dumbledore smiled and nodded.
"Yes, that's correct," he replied calmly, as if discussing the most mundane of topics. "Killing twelve Ancient Dragons grants one a certain... world's recognition."
'Quite obvious.'
Ian's hunch had been right.
Dumbledore and Grindelwald had discovered the Legendary Path through Lady Ravenclaw's research. Moreover, their decisive choice of this seemingly "weakest" path to enlightenment stemmed from knowing they could later strengthen their status by slaying twelve Ancient Dragons. They had already mapped out their entire journey.
"Hmm, alright."
Ian didn't press further.
Some things are best left unsaid.
"If you can chat, feel free to talk more," Claire chimed in, listening intently. Her Phoenix had already squeezed its way inside and climbed into the cauldron, proving it hadn't been exaggerating or lying.
The massive Phoenix could freely alter its size.
It actually curled itself up inside the crimson-gold cauldron all by itself, even using its wings to pull the lid shut, sealing itself in completely.
Yes, the massive Phoenix seemed to be thoroughly enjoying itself.
"...It's surprisingly well-behaved," Ian remarked dryly.
"Of course," Claire said smugly, patting the cauldron lid. "My Phoenix is far more sensible than some people's Phoenixes." As she spoke, she cast a pointed glance at Fawkes.
Fawkes immediately ducked his neck and scurried behind Dumbledore, clearly terrified of being the next one stewed.
Humming a tune, Claire lifted the cauldron onto the fireplace. With a casual wave of her hand, the flames instantly transformed into eerie blue magical fire, precisely regulated to a "low and slow simmer."
"Finding this era proves your exceptional skills," Claire said, turning to Dumbledore.
"Not bad, I suppose. If I hadn't known where Ian had gone, I wouldn't have been able to find you, would I?" Dumbledore replied, his eye twitching slightly as he watched the Phoenix in the cauldron.
Despite the situation, he maintained his composure.
"Correction," Claire said, raising a finger. "I revealed myself voluntarily."
Her voice carried a hint of nervousness.
Dumbledore smiled noncommittally, offering no rebuttal.
His gaze remained fixed on the cauldron. The Phoenix inside seemed perfectly at ease, even adjusting its posture to soak more comfortably.
Ian and Dumbledore exchanged bewildered glances.
"Is this... really okay?" Ian couldn't help but ask.
"Of course it's fine," Claire replied without looking up. "Phoenixes are naturally immortal, capable of endless rebirth. Stewing them merely temporarily returns them to their primordial energy. Drinking their own stew actually accelerates their rebirth cycle."
"This will only make the Phoenix stronger."
Whether this was a legitimate scientific explanation or not, Ian and Dumbledore were both left speechless.
(End Of This Chapter)
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