The world is like a game of chess, a phrase often used to describe how the world constantly shifts and changes.
This saying may sound old-fashioned, but it perfectly captures the ever-changing nature of everything around us. Some people work themselves to the bone for love. Some succeed effortlessly just because they're born attractive. Others, those no-name nobodies, can't make it anywhere unless they grind it out step by step. And then there are those who cling to others not out of affection, but because they need a pedestal to stand on, Ahem, let's not go there.
Anyway, if you take a closer look at a chess match, you'll realize something: no matter how the pieces move, no matter what strategy the two sides adopt, the final goal from the very beginning is always the same, checkmate.
Simple enough to understand, right? But of course, someone had to break the rules, Percy, or more precisely, that thing he called a "noble being," which was really just a bizarre mass of pristine white sand. This thing clearly wasn't playing by the chess rulebook.
Aren't both sides supposed to test each other first? Probe for weaknesses, maybe sacrifice a few pawns to see how the opponent plays? But this duo just went duang!, charging in with all their pieces like knights, rooks, and cannons, all at once. Who said you can only move one piece at a time?
Anyone caught off-guard by a move like that, unless they've got some miraculous luck, or maybe a long white beard and a legendary wand, is pretty much done for. Their only fate is to get wrecked.
Exactly, the classic Voldemort approach. Get rid of anything in the way. No speeches, no dragging things out. Allen had thought this would just be a second-round test match, nothing serious. But his opponent had already drawn their blade, aimed straight at sweet, innocent Pororo.
It was a swift and merciless ambush, perfectly timed for the moment Allen and his group left the safety of their heavily protected zone. Even Allen, usually on high alert, had let his guard down slightly, distracted by the thrill of being outside.
But no matter how well they'd planned it, the enemy overlooked one critical detail, they were targeting someone who not only brought backup but was also completely hacked.
What does "hacked" mean here?
So your rooks and knights are charging at me?
Well, take a look at my "king."
My king doesn't just move in straight lines, it moves diagonally, in L-shapes, in grids, even across entire dimensions! My king doesn't play by your puny rules. It jumps like it's playing checkers. It flies like it's in a boardless game. Face it, your pieces can't catch mine.
Anyway, that's the kind of bizarre battlefield we're looking at right now.
A chessboard where both sides are showing off their cheat codes, though, really, this isn't about fancy metaphors anymore.
This is a world where power rules. Not words.
Unlike the Naruto world, where "Talk-no-Jutsu" can actually save the day, here in the Harry Potter world? Talking never saved anyone.
Ten thousand lectures won't protect you from a single Avada Kedavra.
There's very little blood when a spell hits, at least, when the target is a pure-blood wizard. But just look at the pile of corpses back in that cave, and you'll understand the kind of cruelty that hides beneath this so-called "warmth."
So, the moment Allen and Annie arrived at the battlefield, the first thing they were greeted by—
Was a flash of Avada Kedavra.
But even caught off guard, Allen didn't waste a second wondering Who am I? Where is this? The deadly green spell came at a vicious angle and with insane speed, but they still managed to dodge.
They fired back with two blazing-red spells that burst into massive fire rings after being intercepted mid-air. The flames temporarily obscured both sides' vision, and in that brief window, Allen and Annie repositioned themselves. Their wands raised as one, aimed toward the origin of the attack.
At the same time, a dark purple shield shimmered into place in front of Allen, while a flickering flame-lit shield of scarlet magic bloomed in front of Annie.
As the fire cleared, they finally saw their enemy.
On the opposite end of the battlefield stood something... something that couldn't be called human no matter how generous you were.
It was a mass of pure white sand, finer than marble powder, flawless and glistening. Beautiful in material, disgusting in shape. Constantly shifting into sickening forms.
And standing beside it, was Percy.
The way he looked at that sand creature was almost fawning, with a glint of greed in his eyes.
"Give up," Percy turned to them with a voice dripping with theatrical flair, like he was performing in an opera. "You'll die with dignity. Not like the Longbottoms, driven mad. Of course, even that won't save you from the death our noble one has prepared for you."
"You must understand, " His tone quickly shifted into pitiful reverence as a white sand arm slithered onto his shoulder, causing him to bow his head in servitude. "Noble one…"
The white sand didn't bother responding. Instead, a gaping black hole opened where its "mouth" should have been, and the rasp of shifting grains produced a voice barely recognizable as speech.
"Long time no see, little wizard… And now, it's time I said goodbye."
Before Allen could reply, part of the sand mass peeled off. A gust of wind, infused with sharp grains, came hurtling toward them.
Allen's instincts screamed louder than logic, without hesitation, he grabbed Annie and dove to the ground.
Even with the shield still holding, something told him: Don't try to block this head-on.
The storm tore through the area like a hurricane. As Allen hit the ground, he fired a retaliatory spell, then glanced back over his shoulder.
What he saw was devastation.
That wasn't a spell, it was a natural disaster.
Behind them, the once-dense forest now lay flattened like it had been hit by a logging machine. Branches and leaves were shredded and strewn everywhere. The destruction was complete.
From that alone, Allen understood two things:
First, this enemy desperately wanted to kill them.
Second, this enemy was terrifyingly powerful.
Great. Looks like I left a root last time, and now it's come back for vengeance!
Except not really.
Even last time, it was a half-dead Voldemort that Dumbledore had already weakened. Allen had just picked off the scraps.
There was no way he could take this one down so easily.
Allen didn't know how Voldemort, who had once been hidden behind Professor Quirrell's head, managed to end up here, but that didn't matter right now.
What mattered was finding a way out, getting Annie to safety.
Stay alive. Only then does hope remain.
Allen tightened his grip on his wand.
This fight is for survival.
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
150 Advance Chapters Available on Patreon! Patreon.com/Veltoria