After dealing with the wight, Robert finally let out a slow breath of relief.
However, relief did not mean relaxation.
The clash just now had been far too loud, echoing through the ancient burial mounds like a hammer striking stone. In a place such as the Barrow-downs, any disturbance could awaken far more terrifying things than a single wandering corpse.
Robert's expression grew serious.
He could not afford to linger.
According to Tom's guidance, these burial mounds were not isolated tombs but part of a vast network of ancient graves. If the noise had traveled far enough, it might have stirred multiple barrow-wights from their long slumber.
He had to move—quickly and decisively.
Following the information Tom had given him, Robert continued deeper into the Barrow-downs, carefully navigating between the half-buried tombstones scattered across the misty hills. Time and erosion had worn away their inscriptions; the names of the dead had long since vanished beneath moss and cracks.
Robert did not stop to decipher them.
He had a specific target.
This journey was for one tomb alone—the burial place of the last prince of the Kingdom of Cardolan.
That unfortunate prince had fallen during the kingdom's final stand against the Witch-king of Angmar. After his death, he was buried in the Barrow-downs, where—according to Tom—his tomb contained weapons sharp enough to meet Robert's needs.
Just as Robert scanned his surroundings, the system prompt appeared before his eyes.
[Hogwarts Check-in System: Location detected — Barrow-downs. Do you wish to check in?]
Robert did not hesitate.
"Check in."
[Check-in successful! Congratulations! You have obtained the Dark Arts book: Curses and Counter-Curses.]
A thick, ominous book materialized in midair and dropped neatly into Robert's grasp. Its cover depicted a twisted human face frozen in agony, radiating an unsettling aura.
"A Dark Arts book?" Robert raised an eyebrow in surprise.
He hadn't expected such a reward from this location—but now was not the time to examine it.
Before he could even open the cover, the surrounding mist suddenly thickened, rolling like living fog. From beneath the ground came the unmistakable sound of soil breaking apart.
Something was rising.
Robert's heart sank slightly.
Not just one.
Without hesitation, he layered over a dozen defensive spells around himself, weaving protection after protection until shimmering barriers encased his body. His wand remained firmly in his right hand, while the greatsword taken from the previous wight floated beside him, humming faintly with restrained power.
The mist surged violently.
A powerful gust of wind howled as the first wight burst forth from the ground, charging straight at Robert with terrifying speed.
The creature slammed into the magical barrier—and rebounded violently.
Before it could regain its footing, Robert flicked his wand.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
White light struck the wight, freezing it mid-motion.
But there was no time to celebrate.
Three more wights erupted from the fog, each wielding a massive greatsword steeped in curses and ill omens. Unlike the first, these moved with alarming coordination.
They crossed the distance in an instant.
Clang!
One of the greatswords crashed into Robert's barrier, shattering an entire layer with a single strike.
"So fast!" Robert's eyes narrowed.
"Petrificus Totalus! Petrificus Totalus! Petrificus Totalus!"
He cast rapidly, launching spells in quick succession.
This time, the wights reacted.
Only one was struck and immobilized. The other two twisted their bodies unnaturally, dodging the spells with disturbing intelligence.
Their triumph lasted less than a second.
The greatsword under Robert's control suddenly blurred into an afterimage, streaking forward like a shooting star. It pierced straight through one of the wights, pinning it in place.
Before the creature could react, Robert's spell struck home, petrifying it completely and sending its own greatsword flying from its grasp.
The final wight tried to retreat—but it was too late.
Three disarmed greatswords rose into the air, surrounding it from different angles like predatory beasts. With a single mental command, Robert sent them forward.
The wight was impaled from three directions at once.
Silence returned to the battlefield.
Robert did not relax. He cast several additional petrification spells on every fallen wight, ensuring none of them could break free again. Only then did he manipulate their own cursed weapons, hacking steadily until each health bar vanished completely.
Black wisps of energy spiraled upward before dissipating, leaving behind only piles of bleached bones.
Robert collected the greatswords, storing them carefully. He had planned to rush ahead, but his eyes caught the jewelry adorning the wights—rings, necklaces, and ancient ornaments.
After a brief hesitation, he wrapped the items in old cloth, careful not to touch them directly. Like the swords, these objects were undoubtedly cursed.
Once secured, he continued forward without further delay.
At last, he stood before a towering tomb constructed of white marble.
"This should be it," Robert murmured.
Tom's map confirmed the location. Though the inscription on the tombstone had been eroded beyond recognition, the sheer scale of the structure made its noble origin unmistakable.
The entrance was partially collapsed, blocked by heavy rubble. After some effort, Robert cleared the stones, revealing a dark, yawning passage.
"Never thought I'd become a tomb raider one day," he sighed dryly.
Then, without hesitation, he stepped inside.
The passage was tall and wide enough to walk upright. With a flick of his wand, a glowing orb of light floated forward, illuminating the ancient corridor.
Four greatswords orbited around him, ever-ready.
The tunnel stretched on for a long time before finally opening into a vast burial chamber.
At its center lay a single stone coffin.
No wights attacked.
That alone made Robert tense.
"There's only one place left for you to hide," he muttered, eyes fixed on the coffin.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
The heavy lid lifted slowly.
Before anything could leap out, Robert fired several petrification spells into the opening. Only after confirming there was no movement did he fully remove the lid.
Under the light, the occupant was revealed.
The wight inside was grotesque—its skin dried and clinging to bone, its black eyes glowing faintly with malice. It wore a silver crown set with gemstones, its body draped in ornate jewelry. A chilling greatsword rested upon its chest.
"This must be the prince," Robert said quietly.
A ruler who had defended his homeland, only to be twisted into an undead servant.
"How tragic," Robert sighed. "Not even peace in death."
He disarmed the greatsword and commanded five ancient blades to strike.
But before the final blow landed—
A surge of dark power exploded outward.
The wight shattered the petrification spell, its eyes blazing crimson. An overwhelming wave of fear and despair washed over the chamber.
"Who dares slay the servant of the Great Witch-king?" the wight rasped.
Robert staggered, suffocated by the negative emotions. His control wavered.
Grinding his teeth, he bit his tongue hard, pain snapping him back to clarity.
He raised his wand and conducted it like a maestro.
Golden musical notes burst forth, filling the chamber with joyful, uplifting melody.
The darkness recoiled.
Taking advantage of the opening, Robert unleashed everything he had.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
The wight froze once more.
Five swords struck in unison, piercing its skull.
"I will remember you… wizard…" the wight whispered before crumbling into dust.
Silence reclaimed the tomb.
Robert stood still for a long moment, then exhaled slowly.
Another evil laid to rest.
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