Voldemort's mocking expression slowly twisted into one of horror, because in that fleeting instant, a faint, thin green thread extended from beneath his feet.
The thread passed through his magical shield as if it were nothing. It penetrated the seemingly indestructible barrier that had blocked countless attacks, and not only that, it sank directly into Voldemort's body, which was composed of golden sand and unicorn blood, as if the two had seamlessly fused.
Then, Voldemort felt a strange sensation: something had latched onto his very soul, tight and unyielding, like invisible cords binding him from within.
As the first thread tightened, more quickly followed, surging up from the ground and into his body, binding his soul completely.
Finally, those eerie threads wove themselves into a single chain that wrapped around his form. Only then, as Voldemort momentarily broke free from Allen's many control spells, did he catch sight of the source: buried halfway in the soil, a faint green lantern glowed in the shadows, easily overlooked in the darkness, but to Voldemort, it was a deadly cage.
And worse still, the threads making up the chain were slowly devouring his soul, like greedy silkworms gnawing away at their favorite mulberry leaves, his essence.
"Mr. Tom Riddle?" Allen smiled, seated nearby and casually greeting Voldemort, he had exhausted himself casting all those spells in one go. "Or should I say… Lord Voldemort?"
Voldemort gave no reply, only wide-eyed terror. The Dark Lord was afraid.
Even after becoming the most powerful dark wizard, there was still one thing he feared above all, death.
To avoid it, he had gone to unprecedented lengths, creating seven Horcruxes in total.
"Come now, sir. There's no need to put on such a performance in front of a child, I know you want me dead."
Allen flexed his grip on the short sword in his hand, it had been forged by werewolves and was proving far more effective than he'd expected. Though his mana reserves were depleted, he had caught his breath.
"I'd love to explain everything to you, but villains tend to die monologuing, and while I don't consider myself a villain..." he muttered, struggling to stand with the help of the sword.
"I know this soul lantern can't hold you forever," Allen said, dragging his feet as he walked toward Voldemort. "Which is why we need a little extra help."
Standing beside the trapped Dark Lord, Allen raised his short sword high, and for the first time, genuine fear flickered in Voldemort's eyes.
From that sword… he could sense death itself!
"Goodbye, sir."
Allen brought the blade down, aiming straight for Voldemort's heart.
"Demacia!!"
With his cry, a colossal illusion of a radiant sword descended, cleaving through Voldemort's body like divine judgment.
The body made of golden sand lost all cohesion. A breeze swept by, and his form crumbled, dissolving into drifting particles that vanished into the wind.
Having delivered the final blow, Allen collapsed, having burned through his last ounce of strength. The soul lantern began to absorb what remained of Voldemort's essence at a speed far greater than before, the powerless fragments of his soul offered no resistance.
Valor landed beside Allen, standing guard over his master, Allen had already fallen unconscious from magical exhaustion.
Just as the soul lantern neared the end of its feast, a small, writhing fragment of soul cloaked in dark smoke slipped through the cracks of its chains, it tried to worm its way into Allen's body.
But thanks to Valor's vigilant protection, it abandoned the attempt.
Instead, it slithered into a passing snake nearby. And Valor, placing Allen's safety as the highest priority, chose not to attack.
The snake shot a venomous glare at Allen before slinking off without a sound.
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
Much later, Allen finally awoke from his mana-depleted stupor, completely unaware of what had transpired, after all, he couldn't possibly stay linked to Valor's perceptions at all times. If he did, he'd even have to experience Valor sneakily stealing owl feed or hunting bugs.
By now, the soul lantern had nearly finished absorbing the last of Voldemort's soul. Once dull and lifeless, it now glowed brightly, clearly, Voldemort's soul had been quite the feast.
When Allen placed his hand on it, a rush of warmth surged through him, not only restoring his strength, but also enhancing his power.
Thanks to the soul lantern's feedback, Allen recovered about forty to fifty percent of his stamina, enough to retreat safely and avoid raising suspicion.
He had zero interest in being some kind of "chosen one", especially not Dumbledore's chosen one.
In fact, he was more likely to end up playing the chosen one's sidekick, like Ron Weasley.
And that? Was something he had no desire for.
A short while later, Allen returned to the site of the battle's origin. Aside from the damaged ground from Voldemort's rampage, the area remained relatively intact.
He hurried to the center of the altar. Percy was still lying there, the now-dead Horcrux crown still resting on his head. Judging by the returning color in his cheeks, he was beginning to recover.
Allen cast a quick Stunning Charm on him, he wasn't about to risk Percy waking up mid-cleanup.
Then, taking the crown, Allen moved to a clearing nearby.
"Reducto!"
"Incendio!"
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
Under the barrage of spells, the crown, now devoid of Horcrux power, shattered and burned into filthy, worthless debris.
Allen had no intention of keeping it. Even with system abilities to analyze its structure, he wouldn't dare wear something that had once been a Horcrux. Who knew what traps or dark magic Voldemort had hidden in it?
After the destruction was complete, Allen carefully placed the broken crown back on Percy's head and moved Voldemort's remains, the pile of sand, next to him.
Surely, Percy wouldn't mind.
With that done, Allen began erasing all signs of battle from the other side of the field. With a few swings of his wand, the area was restored to a pristine state. Anyone else might have left traces, but with Zyra's power at his disposal, Allen made the vegetation grow back as if nothing had ever happened.
Once the scene was fully cleaned, Allen holstered his wand, adjusted his appearance to look groggy and disoriented, and began walking toward the exit, perfectly playing his part.
As for Percy?
After causing such a mess, he could stay there and reflect for a while.
==========
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