"These still aren't enough... still not enough to defeat Tiamat..." the old man muttered. The two hollow black sockets where his eyes had been were terrifying to behold.
"But they're enough to deal with these lackeys."
He spun around sharply. Silver-white magic surged across his body as he brandished the wand in his hand like a spear and let out a roar.
Bolts of lightning crashed down from the sky, and every single one, stained with that silver-white magic, transformed into a spear blazing with dazzling lightning.
Ancient magic, Gungnir. What was normally a devastating single-target spell, powerful enough to wipe out a Basilisk or a Dragon in one strike, had now become an instant-cast battlefield-clearing spell.
Leonard saw it. His past self saw it too, and Leonard could feel the shock in his own heart.
"This old man... who the hell is he to be this strong?"
No sooner had he felt that astonishment than Leonard saw the silver-white magic surging over the old man's body dissipate, and exhaustion appear on his face.
Then the old man turned to look at Leonard.
"Holy shit? Again?" a panicked voice cried out. "No, I can't stay here like this any longer. At this rate I'm going to get sucked dry."
The voice kept talking, then awkwardly began gathering the power of world history.
Then it discovered, in despair, that leaving was not going to be easy. The black dragon gnawing at its roots had already been skewered into a hedgehog, and with no outside interference, there was nothing stopping it. But it was simply too huge, and its magic far too vast. It could not all be taken away.
Unless it destroyed this "main body" of its own.
"Damn it, looks like this is going to hurt." Grinding his teeth, that voice split off a piece of its soul, fabricated the kind of system every transmigrator was supposed to have, planned to activate it at the proper time, and stuffed the split soul, carrying its memories, into that system.
Then the incomplete soul triggered the premature collapse of the World Tree, swept away part of the World Tree's power, and fled the secret realm.
At that moment, Leonard heard a tremendous roar and saw the old man pursuing the incomplete soul on an eight-legged heavenly horse.
The man on horseback had never expected that his most loyal and dependable ally, after suddenly gaining self-awareness, would flee carrying away the power he had meant to use to turn the battle around.
Using the power of the World Tree, the fleeing soul reshaped a body for itself and turned into an infant. Then it altered the memory of an elderly Squib and had him take it in.
And gave it the name Leonard William.
That was Leonard's origin.
"So that's how it was." He spoke slowly, his eyes filled with starlight. "The first place I landed after transmigrating wasn't as a baby. I actually transmigrated onto a tree that had just lost its soul, but still had a trace of life left."
"So I'm the World Tree."
...
Raven. The ruins of Asgard.
Harris Raymons knelt half-crouched before the bed, grief filling his heart as he looked at the withered old man lying there.
"Teacher..."
He called out, but the old man on the bed gave no response. Only the faint sound of his breathing proved that he was not completely dead yet.
But that was only a matter of time. The Elixir of Life had long since run out, and even the life force remaining in the remnants of the World Tree could barely prolong the old man's life any further.
That meant his teacher had already reached the end of his road.
Then, all of a sudden, the old man, who had long since lost consciousness, opened his eyes. A faint glimmer appeared in those dim eyes.
"Harris," the old man said softly. "Don't grieve. I've only walked the path I was meant to walk. Everyone dies. I've lived this long already. I've been nothing more than a coward running from death."
He, Nicolas Flamel, known as the greatest alchemist, creator of the Philosopher's Stone, had lived for over five hundred years and left behind countless achievements. He had lived enough. He had earned his death.
After saying that, Nicolas Flamel let out a long breath, intending to close his eyes and peacefully await the arrival of death.
At that moment, a raven flew in from outside and landed by Nicolas Flamel's bedside.
Nicolas Flamel looked toward the raven, a hint of puzzlement in his eyes. He realized that this raven had not been formed from any Rune letter he knew.
A flash of light passed, and the raven turned into a beautiful woman wearing a gauzy dress. Her hair was golden, and her whole body seemed wreathed in dazzling brilliance.
Her eyes were long and narrow, and the crimson shadow around them was as sharp as a blade. She possessed a beauty that could inspire love, yet her aura made people feel as though they were facing a sharpened weapon.
Like a cursed blade.
"Dis?" Harris Raymons looked at the newcomer. "What are you doing here?"
He recognized the woman. A face like hers was impossible to forget. Even Harris Raymons himself had once dreamed of being with a woman like her.
He was puzzled, but not suspicious, because she too was a member of Raven.
She was the student of the First Senator.
Dis ignored Harris Raymons and stared at Nicolas Flamel. "It's time to offer up your body."
"What are you talking about?" Harris Raymons asked sharply. "What body?"
Dis flicked him a glance. "It's a contract. No one else has the right to interfere."
As she spoke, she placed a hand on Nicolas Flamel's head, and light blossomed from her palm.
"Ugh... aaahhhh!"
The dying Nicolas Flamel let out a scream of agony. It was hard to imagine how that gaunt body could produce such a horrifying cry.
"What are you doing?" Harris Raymons exploded into motion and grabbed Dis's wrist.
But Dis merely flicked her hand lightly, and Harris Raymons was sent flying, crashing hard onto the ground.
There was no magic in it at all. It was pure physical strength, yet Harris Raymons had no way to resist it.
What kind of monstrous strength was that? For a moment Harris Raymons had felt as though it was a Dragon that had just swatted him away. Who would have thought that such terrifying power was hidden inside that captivating body?
In any other situation, Harris Raymons would probably already have been thinking about how to run. Faced with an enemy he could not fight, protecting himself was the wisest choice.
But not this time.
The one lying on that bed was his teacher. Harris Raymons could not stand there and watch his teacher suffer, not even at the very end of his life.
No matter who this woman was, no matter how terrifying her strength might be, Harris Raymons could not convince himself to flee like a rat at a time like this.
"Take your hand off him!" Harris Raymons roared in fury. He summoned the raven Sta, crushed it in one grip, and shot a spear crackling with lightning at Dis.
Dis looked at him coldly, raised a finger, and gave it the lightest flick.
Gungnir, powerful enough to kill a Basilisk in a single blow, instantly crumbled into nothing.