[New Talent Acquired — Monarch of the Staff, Radiance of the Sword]
The former talents Staff Mastery and Sword Mastery faded away, replaced by one unified, brand-new talent.
[Your mastery of staff and sword arts has reached divine levels, capable of drawing upon the baleful energy of heaven and earth. Your killing potential is extraordinary.]
[Through analogy and fusion, you have merged the essences of sword and staff arts—an accomplishment exceedingly rare even in the Great Desolation.]
[Compared to your original talents, this new one is vastly more powerful, capable of channeling far more baleful energy.]
[It hints at an unprecedented path in the Great Desolation… a road of legend that none have ever walked.]
Delight spread across Theodore's face.
Even he hadn't expected this.
So it wasn't only the System's Talent Furnace that could fuse talents. His own epiphany—his own moment of understanding—could force evolution too.
Now the usefulness of the Insightful Heaven's Eye was plain as day.
If he obtained more divine powers like Wisdom Severance—things that sharpened comprehension—then epiphanies like this might come more often.
And if he upgraded talents through understanding first, then used the Talent Furnace to refine them…
It would likely cost less merit—and raise the odds of forging something truly high-tier.
Then Theodore's eyes snagged on the last line of the description, and surprise jolted through him.
"A road of legend that none have ever walked"?
If even the System described it like that, then this path was no ordinary improvement.
Which meant—
There might be further potential.
It could evolve again.
Theodore's thoughts raced.
In the Great Desolation, and in the era of the Investiture of the Gods, weapon arts mattered—of course they did.
But in the true Great Calamity, divine treasures and mystic arts had dominated the battlefield. Pure martial skill had been pushed into the shadows.
And yet—
Before the Investiture era, there had been older disasters.
Older wars.
Like the War of Liches and Demons…
The Lich race was famed for monstrous bodies, and martial combat was the core of their warfare. When those ancient warriors swung their weapons, rolling tides of killing aura could blanch heaven and earth, dim sun and moon.
Xingtian bearing axe and shield.
Dayi shooting down the suns.
In their hands, martial arts stood shoulder-to-shoulder with divine arts and treasures—perhaps even surpassed them.
And the Liches had been born of Pangu's blood.
In a way, their combat methods had been inherited directly from Pangu himself.
So what martial technique did Pangu use?
There was only one answer.
The opening move that created the world—the first axe that cleaved heaven and earth.
That move…
…was the very essence of the Dao of Power.
Theodore's heartbeat quickened—faster even than when he'd acquired [Five Elements Inversion and Return Sea].
Because among the Three Thousand Daos, the Dao of Power was the undisputed first.
One Dao to suppress three thousand.
Could [Monarch of the Staff, Radiance of the Sword] hold even a sliver of that potential?
He drew a deep breath.
"Looks like I'll need to pay more attention to martial arts from now on," he murmured. "Collect more talents in that field…"
"If I can find something in the wizarding world the System recognises as part of the Lich race…"
"That'd be even better."
"Even a scrap of insight into the Dao of Power would outclass most so-called innate divine arts."
But after a moment, he forced the excitement down.
It was far too early to speak of the Dao of Power.
That was the pinnacle of the Great Desolation—something even the great Daoist ancestor Hongjun couldn't fully comprehend. It wouldn't be handed over easily.
It would depend on future opportunity.
For now—
One step at a time.
And the step in front of him was simple.
Harvest more merit from Voldemort.
Theodore turned his gaze back to the stand, to the curse-chanting presence behind Quirrell, and a flicker of eagerness lit his eyes.
Let's see what this new talent can do.
In the next moment, he surged toward the Bludger again, swinging hard.
A dominating aura burst out—suffocating, vast—like subjects facing a supreme emperor.
The Monarch of the Staff descends!
The Bludger, wrapped in thick killing intent, roared like a cannon shot and tore straight for Quirrell.
Lee Jordan's voice cracked.
"That's the most powerful Bludger hit I've ever seen in all the matches I've watched!"
"Ashbourne's determination to win for Gryffindor is unquestionable!"
"Ah—there it goes again—circling and heading for Professor Quirrell!"
"The noble Professor Quirrell—attracting the Bludger for the safety of the crowd—a truly honourable spirit!"
Voldemort's face—hidden beneath the scarf at the back of Quirrell's head—went ashen.
In all his years, he'd never thought the greatest threat to his life would be—
A Bludger.
A thick, invisible armour of magic wrapped around him: a Shield Charm at the highest level.
But when the Bludger struck—
He was smashed straight into the stands.
The shield shattered.
Voldemort spat blood. Darkness swam at the edges of his vision; his ears rang like someone had set off fireworks inside his skull.
That single blow—his Shield Charm hadn't even eaten all of it.
Four or five bones, at least, had cracked.
The Bludger rebounded high.
And Theodore was already there, meeting it.
This time, he didn't swing like a club.
He held the bat like a sword—and tapped the Bludger, almost gently.
The same killing aura wrapped around it, but instead of brute force it condensed into misty black light.
The Bludger's speed jumped to something unreal—black lightning cutting across the pitch.
Radiance of the Sword!
Voldemort slashed wand-motions in frantic defence, but every curse missed by a hair.
The Bludger smashed through another hastily raised Shield Charm—
—and struck him square in the face.
Right where his pale, noseless visage was wrapped beneath the scarf behind Quirrell's head.
Voldemort let out a blood-curdling scream.
And his already-ruined nose?
It was gone.
Nothing remained but two gaping holes.
Voldemort was now truly noseless.
But his scream drowned beneath the roar of the stands.
Theodore turned toward the sky—
Harry had the Golden Snitch in his hand, the tiny thing bucking and thrashing as it tried to escape.
"Harry's caught the Snitch!"
"Gryffindor win—two hundred and sixty to nil against Slytherin!"
"An incredible match!"
Lee Jordan's voice rang out, hoarse from shouting.
On Theodore's System interface, new lines appeared:
[Riding the momentum of your epiphany, a vast power surged from the void into your body, temporarily boosting your strength far beyond normal.]
[With staff strikes like meteors and swordplay like lightning, you fought desperately under the pressure of the avatar of Duobao Daoist.]
[Just as you were about to fall, the bell of Jade Void Palace rang out again—the sect tournament is over!]
[You narrowly escaped the grasp of Duobao's avatar!]
Theodore clicked his tongue, glancing at the unconscious Quirrell.
"Lucky bastard."
"Guess I'll let you live for now. Once you recover, I can farm more merit off you. Killing you now would be a waste."
With that, Theodore dropped from the air.
Above him, Harry—ecstatic—flipped midair, only to get mobbed by his teammates.
"That was brilliant! Malfoy was fast, but Harry—you were faster!"
"Your flying's miles better than last time. With you and Theo on the team, Gryffindor are unstoppable!"
Harry beamed, cheeks flushed from cold and victory.
He remembered something Theodore had said once—casual as anything, like it was obvious.
You might have what it takes to play in the Quidditch World Cup.
Back then it had sounded like a laughable dream.
Now, with the Snitch warm in his grip and his blood roaring, it didn't feel so far away.
Catching the Snitch, sealing the win—
It felt incredible.
And if you had the chance, what Quidditch player wouldn't want to stand on the World Cup stage?
Then Harry looked down at the Golden Snitch.
He took a breath—and made a decision.
Harry flew over and held it out to Theodore.
Theodore blinked, surprised. But Harry only grinned, sly as a fox.
"I noticed earlier—your excitement really kicked in the moment the Snitch was mentioned."
"I don't know why you want it, but you've always had my back. This time… let me return the favour, yeah?"
Theodore chuckled and didn't refuse. He took the Golden Snitch.
"Thanks, mate," he said softly. "You really helped me out."
His gaze dropped to the tiny, shining sphere.
To anyone else, it was just a Quidditch ball.
To him—
It was the final ingredient he needed to refine the Demon-Taming Pill.
"Begin alchemy…"
"Refine the pill!"
◇ BONUS & SUPPORT ◇
◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 10 reviews — drop a comment!
◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 100 Power Stones.
◇ Read 60 chapters ahead on P@treon → patreon.com/StrawHatStudios