Ian raised his hand.
Of course, he wasn't surrendering. The power of Order was already stirring at his fingertips. Naturally, none of the Muggles could sense it.
In the middle of the street, Ian calmly extended his right hand, palm forward, fingers spread. The gesture immediately put the police and soldiers on even higher alert, and the warnings blaring over the loudspeakers grew frantic.
"Don't move! Put your hand down!"
The people surrounding him looked as though they were ready to open fire at any second. Ironically, the captors were far more jumpy than the person being surrounded. It was almost absurd.
Still, their reaction wasn't hard to understand. As far as the police were concerned, they were facing a superhuman. Fear of superhumans in the West had been deeply shaped by the movies and TV shows that had become so popular in recent years. The police watched those movies and shows too. So when something that ridiculous suddenly happened in real life, all those fictional scenes naturally came rushing back to them. Of course they were nervous and frightened.
Anyone who had watched even one or two movies or TV shows knew what usually happened to police in situations like this. They were basically cannon fodder, brought in just to get wiped out by the superpowered characters. Now that they were caught in a scene resembling those stories themselves, combined with the human tendency to imagine the worst, it was hard for anyone not to panic. Even normally fearless police officers were no exception. No matter how experienced they were, they had never encountered a situation like this before.
The soldiers, meanwhile, had an additional source of pressure. They knew something the police didn't: the person causing all this trouble was actually a wizard.
Sure, wizards could technically be considered superhumans, but the fear and pressure associated with the word wizard was far greater than that of some ordinary superhuman. That was easy enough to understand. Superhumans were largely a product of modern entertainment culture. Wizards, on the other hand, had been deeply embedded in European history and folklore since the Middle Ages. That kind of influence ran much deeper than anything created by movies and television. It had been passed down from generation to generation.
Of course, Europe's fear of witches and wizards hadn't appeared overnight. It had developed over centuries through a mixture of religion, social structures, gender politics, natural disasters, political struggles, and psychological factors. The evolution of that fear could roughly be understood through three stages, extending from antiquity into the Middle Ages and then into the early modern period.
The witch trials were one of the darkest chapters in European history. From the late Middle Ages through the early modern period, thousands upon thousands of men and women were tried, and in many cases executed, after being accused of witchcraft. The phenomenon reflected not only society's fear and prejudice, but also the complicated relationship between religious beliefs, legal systems, and social structures at the time.
The rise of witch trials in Europe was closely connected to the religious crises of the fourteenth century. European society was suffering through the Black Death, repeated wars, and economic turmoil. In the midst of these disasters, people searched for scapegoats to absorb their fear and anger. Witchcraft became a "reasonable" explanation for the unknown and for misfortune.
As Christianity intensified its suppression of heresy, the Church also began paying greater attention to and cracking down on forms of witchcraft believed to involve dealings with the Devil. In 1487, two German Dominican friars published a book known as Malleus Maleficarum, or The Hammer of Witches. It described how witches were supposedly identified, tried, and punished. The book quickly became an essential reference for inquisitors and judges, greatly contributing to the spread of witch trials. Over the following centuries, the persecution of alleged witches spread throughout Europe, from Scotland to Spain and from Scandinavia to Italy.
And behind this entire wave of persecution was one underlying truth: humanity's fear of the unknown.
Except wizards really did exist. And they really had harmed Muggles.
That was why a thousand years of accumulated fear could genuinely be said to have taken root in the deepest parts of the human psyche. How were these people supposed to overcome that fear? How were they supposed to overcome an instinct passed down through generations?
"Do exactly as we say!"
An officer who looked like the commander was practically screaming at Ian. He had no idea what Ian intended to do by raising his hand and was terrified that a curse might be coming his way at any moment. Fear spread through his heart, yet he still didn't dare order his men to open fire. After all, anyone who knew even a little about the legends understood that wizards could supposedly place curses on others even after they died, and those curses could be even more vicious and terrifying.
Once that thought entered his mind, how could he possibly dare give the order to kill a wizard? They were caught between a rock and a hard place. No one knew what to do.
Back in the ninth century, the Frankish Kingdom had issued the Canons of the Council, explicitly stating that believing in the existence of witches was itself superstition and should be corrected. This showed that the Church at the time did not yet regard witches as genuinely existing. But by the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, that attitude had completely changed. In 1374, Pope Gregory XI declared that all practitioners of magic were aided by demons, formally associating witchcraft with heresy. From then on, witchcraft was no longer merely seen as a way of harming others. It became an act of betraying God and pledging allegiance to Satan.
And that was how Europeans' fear of witches and wizards became firmly established. Even children had heard stories about them.
"I heard you. Why are you shouting when your voice is shaking that badly?" Ian muttered.
He ignored the officer further. His lips moved slightly, though no sound came out. In an instant, a complex and ancient incantation, containing immense power capable of interfering with both mind and memory, took shape within his thoughts.
The next moment, no light burst from his palm. Instead, an invisible and gentle field of magical power spread silently outward from him like ripples across water.
The wave wasn't particularly violent; it didn't even disturb the air. Yet it precisely covered the entire street, reaching every Muggle present: police officers, soldiers, reporters, shopkeepers, pedestrians, drivers, children...
Ian had unleashed a massive, highly precise, group-cast version of Obliviate.
This wasn't simple memory erasure. It was precise manipulation of memories combined with the reconstruction of an entire scene.
I'll clean up this mess.
With the immense magical power of a Legendary Wizard, his profound understanding of mind magic, and his control over Order, Ian gently but irresistibly implanted a "reasonable" set of memories into the minds of every Muggle. At the same time, he subtly blurred, replaced, and altered everything they remembered about the magical battle, the destruction and restoration of the street, and the strange behavior of himself and the other two wizards.
For an ordinary wizard, this would have been an unimaginably difficult spell. For Ian... it was nothing more than routine. There was absolutely no chance of failure.
The moment the field of magical power swept across the street, a reporter who had been holding up his camera suddenly froze. His eyes went blank for a moment before he lowered the camera and scratched his head.
"Huh? What was I trying to take a picture of just now? Was it a car that nearly crashed into a streetlight? Forget it. Not exactly newsworthy." He turned around and began packing up his equipment.
Nearby, a young mother clutching her child had nearly been struck by a falling stone slab moments ago. The terror on her face quickly faded, replaced by confusion. She looked down at the child in her arms. The baby was perfectly unharmed, though still sniffling from the fright. Then she glanced at the smooth, undamaged pavement and muttered to herself, "It's okay, baby. Don't cry... Did Mommy just trip? Did that scare you? There, there. It's all right now..." She gently patted the child and walked away.
Nearby, the elderly customers who had collapsed on the ground and witnessed everything slowly returned to their usual dazed expressions. They helped each other to their feet and looked at the perfectly intact shop windows and storefronts.
"That was a really loud bang. Must've been a tire blowing out. Young people drive way too recklessly these days."
"Yeah, yeah. Scared the life out of me. I thought the shop window was going to shatter. Good thing nothing happened."
They slowly shuffled back inside the shop.
"What happened? Why are we here?"
At the same time, the tense bodies of the police and soldiers relaxed. Their fingers came off their triggers, and the vigilance and disbelief in their eyes were quickly replaced by the puzzled, routine attitude of people carrying out a task but finding nothing unusual.
The officer with the loudspeaker frowned and spoke into his radio. "Headquarters, this is the scene. No signs of the reported explosion or attack. Street conditions are normal, with only minor traffic congestion. It appears a vehicle malfunction caused a brief disturbance. Requesting further instructions... Repeat, no abnormalities detected."
Obviously, Ian had rewritten their memories into nothing more than a false alarm. And, really, situations like this happened often enough in this part of the world. There were always people with too much free time making prank calls and false reports, so the explanation was perfectly believable.
"Exercise successfully completed! Time to go home and eat!"
The soldiers began putting away their rifles as well. The commander gave a hand signal, and the troops orderly withdrew toward their armored personnel carriers. They seemed to have completely "forgotten" why they had been urgently dispatched there. All they remembered was that they had taken part in a "rapid-response exercise concerning an unidentified noise" or had been called in to assist with a possible traffic accident.
Everything fit perfectly.
The sirens stopped. The police began directing traffic and helping the "frightened" civilians, even though the civilians themselves couldn't quite remember what they had been frightened by. Nobody found that strange.
"Beep beep~"
"Fresh baked bread!"
The noise of the Muggle world returned to normal. An armored personnel carrier slowly reversed and drove away. The chaos on the street evaporated like dew under the sun. People went back to walking, chatting, and shopping as if nothing had happened. Every now and then, someone glanced at the three people standing in the middle of the street, but they simply assumed they were pedestrians having a conversation or perhaps travelers waiting for a taxi.
So they quickly looked away.
In less than a minute, the entire street seemed to have been completely "reset" by an invisible hand. Sunlight fell across the spotless shop windows and neatly arranged paving stones. Cars began moving through the street again, and pedestrians flowed past one another as usual.
The terrifying magical battle from moments ago, the overwhelming pressure of magical power, the deadly shockwaves, the magnificent restoration magic, and the confrontation between the police and military that followed... At this very moment, every trace of it had been erased and replaced in the memories of every Muggle.
Not a single trace remained.
"He can actually do that? An Obliviate? Oh my God!"
Silence. Only three people still "remembered" everything.
Jorkins stared dumbfounded at the restored street and the people moving about as though nothing had happened. Then he looked at Ian, who was still calmly holding up his hand. His mouth hung open wide enough to swallow a Fire Dragon egg.
As expected! He really is a terrifying wizard!
Jorkins had heard of mass Memory Charms before, but something on this scale, this precise, effortless, and complete, was beyond anything he had ever heard of. What kind of terrifying magical control and mental power did it take? Just who was this young man?!
If Jorkins was shocked, the Death Eater was absolutely horrified.
He had personally witnessed Ian casually "rewrite" the reality perceived by every Muggle on the entire street. Even the most terrifying master he knew, Voldemort, could never have manipulated memories and minds on such a massive scale with such ease. Not with such a wide range, and certainly not with results this perfectly "clean."
This was beyond merely being "powerful." It was almost... the power of a god.
How can this be? How can someone so young be this powerful? He's like a god walking among men...
Fear, cold and venomous as a snake, completely seized his heart. He knew he had to leave. Immediately. No matter the cost.
"Beep beep~"
"Fresh baked bread!"
The ordinary sounds of the Muggle world filled the street once more. If anything, that normalcy only made the deathly silence and tension between the three of them feel even more pronounced. The slanting sunlight cast long shadows across the restored street.
Who the hell is he?!
Jorkins was still sitting limply on the ground, his mind completely blank. He could only stare at Ian's back with instinctive awe, barely even daring to breathe.
I have to run! I have to run! He's a white wizard! He's protecting those Muggles! He'll kill me!
The Death Eater's pupils contracted into tiny, razor-sharp points. Adrenaline flooded his body as his instinct for survival overwhelmed everything else. He stared fixedly at Ian, leaning backward slightly. The veins on the hand gripping his wand stood out.
I can't beat him. Not even close!
The Death Eater might have been crazy, but he wasn't stupid. He knew that words meant nothing in the face of such overwhelming power. His only chance was to escape. Immediately.
As far as he could tell, a Memory Charm on this scale had to consume a tremendous amount of magical power. Ian had just finished casting such a massive spell, so perhaps there was a brief opening.
With that thought, the Death Eater stopped hesitating. He didn't even bother with a final threat or a meaningful glance. He poured all the magical power he had left into his wand and pointed it at the ground beneath his feet.
He intended to Apparate to the nearest safe house he had prepared in advance.
"Appa, "
But he only managed to get halfway through the spell.
Ian didn't even turn around. He simply raised his left index finger toward the Death Eater and casually drew it downward. The movement was as effortless as brushing away a strand of cobweb.
Yet the instant he did so, the space around the Death Eater suddenly "solidified."
It was as though an invisible, indestructible layer of transparent amber had instantly formed around him, trapping both him and the Apparition magic he was trying to activate.
"No!"
The Death Eater felt his connection to the surrounding magic and space forcibly severed and suppressed by an even higher, more domineering will. The spatial distortion that had just begun glowing at the tip of his wand went out with a faint puff, like a candle flame in the wind.
The surging magical power inside his body slammed into an invisible wall. The backlash was brutal. His organs churned violently. His throat turned sweet with blood, and he nearly spat it out.
He didn't even have time to worry about his injuries. Despair filled his heart.
Apparition had failed. And it had been stopped so easily. So completely.
Who the hell is this man?!
Even Dumbledore in his youth hadn't been this powerful!
(End Of This Chapter)
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