The Death Eater never even noticed Ian's intervention. Everything had happened far too quickly.
"What a nuisance."
Ian's gesture was as casual as brushing nonexistent dust from his sleeve.
He had used almost no power. What mattered was the exquisite precision of his control: a slight adjustment to the air currents, a momentary alteration of an object's trajectory, and an instant correction to the local gravitational field.
It could hardly even be called advanced offensive or defensive magic; it was closer to manipulating reality through a deep understanding of physical laws, using the lightest touch to redirect overwhelming force.
With Ian's current level of power and his preliminary understanding of the Authority known as the Foundation of Order, such a feat was effortless, leaving almost no magical trace. That was why his intervention had worked so well.
For the moment, he had protected the Muggles in the greatest danger, but the chaos continued, as did the battle between the two wizards. More people would soon be caught in the crossfire.
This farce had to end.
"So he really is a terrorist." Ian's gaze settled on the arrogant Death Eater.
Jorkins was already struggling to defend himself; his defeat was inevitable, and he could be killed or captured at any moment. As for the Death Eater, attacking so recklessly in a Muggle neighborhood warranted punishment.
Ian stopped concealing himself and stepped forward. It was as though that single step had landed upon an invisible point in the rhythm of the world.
"Enough."
He spoke quietly, yet that one word passed through every scream, explosion, colliding spell, and wailing car alarm, ringing clearly across the chaotic street. It was like icy water poured into boiling oil.
"What's happening?"
"What was that?!"
The two battling wizards froze simultaneously. The Death Eater was especially shaken, the curse gathering at the tip of his wand suddenly stalled, as though the surrounding magic had become thick, sluggish… and hostile to him.
Then an indescribable magical presence descended upon the street. It was as vast as an abyss and as cold as polar ice, like an ancient dragon slowly opening its eyes after sleeping for countless ages. And Ian stood at its center.
The power was neither violent nor ostentatious, producing no shock wave or visible flames. It was instead the absolute declaration of one person's existence, a silent decree imposed upon reality itself.
The air became impossibly heavy. Every minor sound, the screaming, the sobbing, the fading echoes of spells, and the car alarms, was abruptly smothered by an invisible hand. The street fell completely silent, leaving only a deathly pressure that made every soul tremble.
"What's going on over there? Is there another person with supernatural powers?"
Even the fleeing pedestrians involuntarily stopped and looked back, searching for the source of that terrifying sensation. The Death Eater and Jorkins turned toward Ian as though struck by a Full Body-Bind Curse, their faces filled with disbelief and absolute horror.
'Who is that? How can anyone possess such terrifying magic?!'
All colour drained from the Death Eater's pale, distorted face. His pupils shrank to pinpoints, and the hand gripping his wand trembled violently. It wasn't merely fear; the dark, violent magic within his body was instinctively recoiling before a power that existed on an entirely different level, trembling uncontrollably as though compelled to submit.
He had experienced a faint shadow of this sensation when facing his master's wrath, but never anything so pure, vast, and utterly hopeless.
As a devoted follower of Voldemort, the Death Eater desperately wanted to deny it, but his reason forced him to accept the truth: the person who had intervened was far more powerful than the great Lord Voldemort.
"What tremendous power…" Jorkins whispered, his mouth hanging open.
Cold sweat soaked his grey-white hair and plastered it to his forehead. He felt the same irresistible magical pressure, but unlike the Death Eater, his shock was mixed with confusion and the relief of someone who had narrowly escaped death.
Who was this young man?
An Auror from the Ministry?
No, no Auror could possibly create a feeling like this.
Dumbledore?
It didn't feel like Dumbledore either, Jorkins wasn't even sure Dumbledore could accomplish such a thing.
"Have neither of you heard of obeying the law?"
Ian stood amid the wrecked street in ordinary clothes, his youthful face perfectly calm. He seemed completely out of place among the terrified crowd and shattered surroundings.
Yet to the two wizards, and even to a few unusually perceptive Muggles, he had become the very center of the space around them: a black hole that swallowed light and sound while radiating limitless authority and an icy will.
"Especially you." Ian glanced at the Death Eater.
It was only a glance, but the Death Eater reacted as though struck by lightning. A muffled groan escaped him as an invisible hammer slammed into his chest and sent him staggering backward.
His wand nearly flew from his hand, while the protective magic and murderous intent surrounding him melted away like snow beneath the sun.
He felt as if Ian's gaze had nearly stopped the magical circuits within his body. A terrible chill penetrated his soul, the instinctive knowledge that a higher existence was looking down upon him and could decide whether he lived or died with a thought.
'There shouldn't be a wizard this powerful in Britain!' Jorkins instinctively stepped back, his face deathly pale. He lowered his head in awe, not daring to meet Ian's eyes.
"These Muggles were lucky," Ian said, turning his attention to the devastated street and the shaken crowd. "Fortunately for them, I was here."
He gently waved a hand.
This time, his magic became clearly visible. Soft, pure white light rippled outward from Ian like snowmelt in early spring, quickly sweeping across the entire battlefield.
Wherever it passed, the shattered paving stones flowed back together as though time were running in reverse. Broken glass flew into the shop windows, every crack sealing until the panes looked brand-new.
The fallen lamppost and damaged cars creaked softly as invisible power smoothed and corrected their twisted metal. Even the scattered petals and soil rose on a gentle breeze, returning to the wooden stand and flowerpots from which they had fallen.
It was a display that would have made any wizard tremble. Ian had effectively cast a large-scale, intricately controlled Mending Charm over the entire street, and made it look effortless. The result was nothing short of miraculous.
Once everything had been restored, Ian withdrew his terrifying magical presence as if none of it had ever existed. For one brief instant, time itself seemed to freeze as his vast power faded and the street returned to its original condition. Then someone seemed to press play, and every sound and emotion that had been forcibly suppressed erupted at once.
"G-God! What did I just see?!"
"The glass! It flew back into the windows!"
"The pavement fixed itself! And the lamppost too!"
"Those two men… They were firing lights from sticks! Was that magic?!"
"Was he a demon? Or an angel? That white light…"
"Call the police! Hurry!"
Terrified and disbelieving cries broke out across the street. The Muggles who had been fleeing, hiding, or lying helplessly on the ground now stared wide-eyed at the three unnatural figures standing in the road.
One was Jorkins, the trembling, middle-aged wizard in dark-green robes, his face as pale as death. The second was Ian, a black-haired young man in ordinary dark clothing whose calm expression now seemed almost unnatural. A short distance away stood the Death Eater.
His black robes were torn, and he had only just managed to force himself upright after being driven back by a single glance, bitter hatred and overwhelming fear warring across his face.
The perfectly restored street and the three figures facing one another created an utterly surreal scene.
Some of the bolder onlookers, or those whose curiosity outweighed their fear, began peeking out from behind shop doors, parked cars, and street corners. A few even edged closer, raising the bulky cameras of the era.
"I knew there was something strange about our world!" The boldest among them, a man who looked like a newspaper reporter, tried to press the shutter with trembling fingers.
Most people, however, remained in complete disarray. Some fled the "cursed" area, while others moved closer to see what was happening. Some sat on the ground crying, and others loudly called for missing friends and relatives. Human beings, if nothing else, were endlessly varied.
Car horns, crying children, screaming women, and shouting men blended into a deafening uproar. The street, which had only just been restored to order, plunged into a different kind of panic.
'Is he a good man or a bad one?' Jorkins squirmed beneath the countless frightened, suspicious, and curious stares. He instinctively edged behind Ian, as though this mysterious and powerful young man were his only refuge.
He could feel the Muggles' condemnation, but even worse was the Death Eater's cold, venomous gaze fixed upon him. His lips trembled as he tried to say something to Ian, but he had no idea where to begin. "Er… uh…"
"Filthy Muggles!"
The Death Eater found their gawking and shouting both infuriating and humiliating. Since when had he been reduced to a spectacle for Muggles, creatures he regarded as no better than insects?
In the past, he would have slaughtered them without hesitation. Now, however, Ian's presence forced him to restrain himself.
The unfathomable black-haired young man ahead terrified him more than anything else. Ian merely stood there, yet he seemed like an insurmountable wall of ice, sealing off every possibility of escape or retaliation.
The Death Eater's magic was still in painful disarray from the earlier pressure, and the hand gripping his wand was slick with cold sweat. He knew he had to leave immediately, then report to his master. An incomprehensibly powerful enemy had appeared.
Just as the chaos reached its peak, the distant wail of sirens began drawing closer. The sound rapidly grew louder and more urgent. There was more than one vehicle; beneath the sirens came another noise as well, a heavy, rhythmic rumbling.
"The police are here!"
"The army! Those are military vehicles!"
"Move! Get out of the way!"
A fresh commotion swept through the crowd.
Several blue-and-white police cars appeared at both ends of the street, their lights flashing. They forced their way through the congested traffic and screeched to a halt near Ian and the two wizards.
"Are those the superhumans?"
The doors flew open. Police officers in dark-blue uniforms hurried out and took cover behind their vehicles, nervously aiming their pistols at the three figures in the middle of the street. Their faces showed both tension and disbelief; they had clearly been informed over the radio that some kind of supernatural attack was underway.
More alarming still, two dark-green armored personnel carriers bearing military markings rolled in behind the police cars, their tyres rumbling heavily across the road.
"Those damned wizards are always causing trouble!"
The rear doors opened, and squads of fully armed soldiers poured out. Wearing helmets and combat uniforms, they moved swiftly and with practiced precision, spreading out to secure advantageous positions.
The dark barrels of their automatic rifles turned toward Ian, Jorkins, and the Death Eater in perfect unison.
They had immediately identified the three as wizards, which meant they knew far more than ordinary Muggles. Their response was correspondingly extreme.
One soldier was even carrying a rocket launcher, though he probably wouldn't dare fire it in such a crowded area. Others held unusual electronic instruments that appeared to be newly developed detection equipment, nervously scanning the street.
The atmosphere was taut enough to snap.
A police officer's voice came through a loudspeaker, distorted by tension. "You three in the middle of the street! Drop your weapons immediately! Put your hands behind your heads and lie on the ground! I repeat: drop your weapons, put your hands behind your heads, and lie on the ground!"
The soldiers' fingers rested on their triggers, their eyes sharp and watchful. They had clearly been placed on the highest level of alert against unknown supernormal individuals with immense destructive potential.
Faced with dozens of guns and possibly even heavy weapons, Jorkins nearly wet himself. His legs gave way, and he collapsed onto the road. His wand slipped from his hand as he raised both arms high above his head.
"D-Don't shoot! I surrender! I'm a wizard, a British wizard! I mean you no harm!"
The Death Eater's expression grew even uglier. He clenched his teeth, a vicious light flickering in his eyes as he calculated the odds of escaping by Apparition. But the black-haired young man's presence still faintly covered the entire area, making the surrounding space feel unusually solid.
Attempting to Apparate under those conditions would be extremely dangerous. Besides, the Death Eater had no doubt that the young man would act the instant he tried anything. The Muggles' weapons might not be enough to kill him, but they would still be troublesome.
Everyone's attention gradually settled on Ian. He had remained the calmest person present from the very beginning, and he was also the one responsible for the miraculous restoration of the street and the terrifying magical pressure that had silenced everyone.
"What a mess." Ian sighed softly.
The situation had become even more troublesome than he had expected. The involvement of the Muggle authorities meant cleaning everything up would be far more complicated.
He wasn't concerned about their guns or explosives; at his current level, conventional weapons posed almost no threat. The Authority of the Foundation of Order could even allow him, to some extent, to define such attacks as ineffective.
But Ian wasn't a Dark wizard. He had no desire to cause needless bloodshed, nor did he want conflict between wizards and Muggles to erupt into the open in such a violent fashion, especially at a time when Voldemort was doing everything possible to inflame tensions between them.
It seemed there was only one option.
"A time-honored Ministry tradition."
Ignoring the weapons aimed at him and the soldiers' taut expressions, Ian calmly surveyed the entire street. His gaze passed over every frightened, curious, and angry face, every dark gun barrel, and every flashing police light. His eyes seemed deep enough to contain every detail of the chaos around him.
Then he raised his hand.
(End Of This Chapter)
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