Chapter 95: A Second Awakening of Magic
"Flipendo."
"Flipendo."
"Flipendo."
A crisp, glass-shattering crack rang out.
Three consecutive Flipendoes smashed through Paul's Shield charm, and he still hadn't even seen where the attack came from.
The overwhelming force slammed into his body, hurling him into the air.
Paul crashed down onto the center of the stone walkway. The instant movement was detected, the ancient demonic fire reignited, surging toward him like a living tide.
"No—no—no!"
Despair twisted his face. He waved his wand frantically, trying to summon Fiendfyre and drag his unseen attacker down with him.
But in his current state, he couldn't even conjure the flames.
Amid his screams, Paul was engulfed in fire. He slipped, lost his footing—and leapt straight into the abyss below.
---
By then, Russell had already begun counting his spoils.
Due to the sheer passage of time, most of the potions stored here had long since lost their efficacy. Morgan had probably never imagined these items wouldn't be retrieved for over a thousand years.
There were also gold coins from the era of King Arthur. Judging by their design, they had been minted by Morgan herself—one side bearing her profile, the other engraved with a thorned crown. To Russell, they were little more than valuable antiques.
And, of course—
The skull of the skeleton knight.
"And this is… what? A stick?" Russell asked, examining a shriveled piece of wood in his hand.
"A branch from the apple tree of Avalon," Morgan replied. "You can take it back and see if it'll still grow."
"What does it do?" Russell's eyes lit up. "Immortality?"
"What do you think this is—the Philosopher's Stone?" Morgan snapped irritably.
"It merely restores youth, allowing one to remain at the peak of vitality."
"Still an incredible treasure," Russell said, visibly impressed.
Morgan immediately poured cold water on his enthusiasm.
"That's the effect of the original apple tree of Avalon. Even if this branch takes root, its power will be greatly diminished."
Even so, Russell had no doubt countless witches would kill for it.
Still, after braving all those trials for this?
He couldn't help feeling it was a poor return.
"So this is the 'good stuff' you mentioned?" Russell frowned.
"Doesn't seem all that helpful to me."
"Of course not," Morgan replied calmly.
A pattern suddenly appeared on the diary's pages. Following its guidance, Russell pressed a hidden switch inside the room.
With a deep rumble, a stone altar slowly rose from beneath the ground.
"Do you know how the very first wizard came into being?" Morgan suddenly asked, veering off topic.
"In ancient times, humanity suffered under the oppression of other races. In their desperation for power, they offered pure maidens as sacrifices. Through such rituals, they stole the power of those beings and transformed it—by specific rites—into pure magical energy."
The more Russell listened, the more familiar it sounded.
Wasn't this exactly how the mixed-bloods in a famous show stole the power of dragons?
So they weren't mages after all—
They were warlocks.
"And so?" Russell already felt he knew the answer.
"As wizards interbred generation after generation, their bloodlines thinned," Morgan continued.
"Magical awakening is the sign of dormant wizard blood being reactivated. Those in whom the blood remains silent become Squibs."
"This altar stimulates your bloodline, allowing magic to awaken a second time."
Russell hesitated. "I won't… turn into something strange afterward, will I?"
"Unless more than half your blood comes from magical creatures," Morgan replied flatly,
"that won't happen."
That put Russell at ease.
Following Morgan's instructions, he lay down on the altar and activated it.
A warm current slowly rose within his body. At first, only his fingertips felt hot, as if warmth were flowing through his veins. Gradually, the heat spread throughout his body, and his heartbeat quickened.
Suddenly, the objects around him began to tremble. Bottles of expired potions rattled, and a strange light filled his vision.
When everything finally settled, a crisp ding echoed in his mind.
His magic stat jumped straight from 2 to 4.
"That's it?"
It felt unreal—but the increase was undeniable. Russell casually cast an Iron Shield Charm and examined it.
If before it had been as thin as paper, now it was as thick as hardened leather.
Just as he prepared to get up, the altar made a sharp cracking sound—
and collapsed.
Single-use.
Russell smacked his lips. He'd originally planned to let the other Addams family members try it as well.
After carefully searching the room once more and pocketing everything of value, Russell followed the route Morgan provided and located a passage leading back to the surface.
The moment he finally crawled out, the tunnel collapsed behind him.
He looked around, searching for Wednesday—and instead witnessed a bizarre sight.
The group of enemy wizards they had fought earlier were tied upright to flagpoles. Below them, the Addams family members were cracking whips viciously while interrogating them.
Russell listened closely and gradually understood what was being said. His expression turned strange.
After winning the battle, the Addams family had started counting heads—and only then realized Russell was missing.
Legilimency yielded no answers, so they resorted to the oldest method imaginable: hanging them up and whipping them.
The captured wizards were utterly wronged. The only person who had known Russell's whereabouts had already been blasted to pieces. They didn't even know who Russell was—but who would believe that?
After all, a living person didn't just vanish. Even a corpse should leave something behind.
"I found Russell!"
Just moments after he emerged, a sharp-eyed Addams pointed at him and shouted.
---
"So you're saying… you accidentally fell into a hole, wandered into a ruin, and somehow walked out with its treasure?"
Even Gomez, who had seen it all, couldn't help clicking his tongue.
Wasn't that a bit ridiculous?
The entire Addams family had gathered in a room, questioning Russell about his ordeal.
Seeing their disbelief, Russell reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of gold coins, handing them over.
If Morgan knew her coins were being casually referred to as 'big Morgans,' she would probably disown him on the spot.
"The age checks out," Gomez frowned, examining them,
"but I've never seen coins of this design before."
The Addams family vault housed countless antiques, and Gomez himself was an expert—but even he was stumped.
"And there's more," Russell added.
The room was already sealed with a soundproofing charm, so he wasn't worried about outsiders overhearing.