Two masses of pitch-black mist plummeted from the heavens like a pair of black meteors.
Their edges churned violently throughout the high-speed descent, leaving two long trails of darkness in their wake.
The black mist descended toward a seaside cliff in Feldcroft.
Lynn emerged from one of the swirling masses and looked up.
Before him stood a Gothic fortress overlooking the coast.
Its outer walls were riddled with pits and cracks of varying depths. The marks left by the passage of time had been etched so deeply into the stone that its original color was almost impossible to discern.
Tall turrets rose from the fortress's four corners, but two had already collapsed, leaving jagged ruins and piles of rubble behind.
The battlements were in no better condition.
Large sections of the walls had crumbled, scattering stones along the edge of the cliff. Some had already rolled over the precipice and vanished into the sea below. Vines climbed from the foundations, enveloping the entire fortress in a web of dark green.
At first glance, it appeared to be a ruin that had been abandoned for centuries.
However, a closer inspection revealed that the outer walls and the remaining corner towers were still structurally sound. Someone had clearly constructed additional fortifications within the ruins.
Lynn withdrew his gaze and turned to the person beside him.
Elias was stepping out of the other mass of black mist. He twisted his neck, producing an audible crack, then shook out his wrists and bent at the waist as though confirming that every part of his body was still attached.
"This self-created Spell of yours is quite useful," he remarked with a hint of admiration. "It's incredibly convenient for traveling."
The corners of Lynn's mouth curled upward.
He certainly wasn't going to mention that the Spell had actually been created by a certain noseless fellow.
"I'm something of a top student myself," Lynn replied with perfect confidence. "Creating a Spell is simple enough."
Elias nodded, then turned his attention toward the distant fortress disguised as a ruin.
"Rescue him first?"
Lynn nodded.
"Rescue him first."
Rescuing Sebastian was essential. They couldn't allow the enemy to drag out a hostage halfway through the battle and force the two of them into some ridiculous hostage-rescue drama, could they?
The protagonist rushes in to save someone, only to find the villain waiting at the door with a knife pressed against the hostage's throat.
"Drop your wand, or I'll kill him."
The protagonist drops his wand, gets knocked unconscious, is thrown into a cell, and then has to endure countless hardships before finally escaping.
Lynn had no intention of giving Rookwood the opportunity to cause such trouble.
He drew his wand from his sleeve, pointed its tip at the ground, and tapped lightly.
An invisible ripple spread outward from the tip of his wand.
It passed through rubble, soil, and stone before penetrating deep into the earth.
This was a Spell Lynn had learned from Hufflepuff.
Its function was simple: it allowed the caster to examine the interior and exterior structure of the ground.
Underground cavities, cracks, waterways, and mineral veins could all be detected. It could reveal how many underground levels existed, the structure of each level, and whether any passages connected them.
However, the Spell had one limitation.
It could detect only "objects." As long as something wasn't alive, the Spell could locate it. Living creatures, however, were beyond its reach. It couldn't detect humans, goblins, or, naturally, Sebastian.
Lynn's opportunity to learn this Spell had come entirely by chance.
At the time, Hufflepuff had been considering building a wine cellar beneath Hogwarts and had asked Lynn where the castle's wine cellar would be located in the future.
Lynn had thought about it carefully, only to realize that Hogwarts didn't seem to have a wine cellar at all.
When he told Hufflepuff his conclusion, the kind-hearted Witch had immediately refused to believe him.
In her plans, a Hogwarts without beverages was fundamentally incomplete.
During that era, ale was an everyday drink for everyone, including children, and usually had an alcohol content of only one to three percent.
Fermented drinks were safer than untreated water and far less likely to spread disease.
Although Wizards could conjure their own water and didn't need to worry about waterborne illnesses, they still wanted something with flavor, and ale was an excellent choice.
Thus, Hufflepuff had cast this Spell in front of Lynn to survey the ground beneath Hogwarts.
That was how Lynn discovered that the underground room used centuries later to store Potion ingredients had originally been Hogwarts's wine cellar.
Perhaps it had been converted into a Potion-ingredient storeroom after underage Wizards were no longer permitted to drink alcohol.
But that was beside the point.
Lynn closed his eyes.
The feedback carried by the underground ripples began to form within his mind.
The density of the rock, the softness of the soil, and the shapes of the hollow spaces—all of it unfolded within his consciousness like a three-dimensional map.
Lynn opened his eyes.
"Found it."
Elias looked toward him.
"There's a door beneath the castle's staircase that leads down into the cellar," Lynn said, his gaze fixed on the distant fortress disguised as a ruin. "Sebastian is most likely being held there."
Elias gave a quiet hum of acknowledgment, turned around, and walked toward one side of the wall.
There was a gap in it, just wide enough for a person to squeeze through sideways.
Elias pulled his wand from his pocket, cast a Disillusionment Charm over himself with a wave, and slipped through the opening.
Lynn watched him disappear into the shadows of the wall before turning his gaze away.
He looked up at the sky.
It was completely cloudless.
The sun hung high overhead, its brilliant light shining down without obstruction.
Lynn raised his wand and pointed it toward the sky.
Dark clouds slowly began to gather, gradually obscuring the sunlight.
Lynn silently calculated the time.
It took roughly two minutes for the clouds to converge and block out the sun.
Not slow, but not particularly fast either.
If he had summoned dark clouds in an instant, blotting out the sun and plunging the land into darkness, it would have looked far too deliberate. No matter how stupid the people inside the fortress were, they would have realized something was wrong.
Instead, he altered the weather slowly, layer by layer, making it seem like a natural change—as though clouds had simply drifted in from the distance and happened to cover the sun.
That way, no one would become suspicious.
They would only think that it was about to rain.
That a thunderstorm was coming.
That the wind was beginning to pick up.
No one would think that someone outside was controlling it all.
Success was in the details.
...
On the other side of the wall, Elias had just emerged from the shadows.
He stayed close to the wall's base, where rubble and debris had accumulated. Some stones were as large as millstones, while others were no bigger than fists, all heaped together in a chaotic pile.
He crouched behind the shadow of a tent.
Several more tents stood nearby. Large and small, tall and short, they were scattered haphazardly across the open ground within the walls.
Elias cautiously peered around the edge of the tent.
At the center of the clearing, two people were embroiled in a heated argument.
Victor Rookwood stood on the left.
He wore a dark gray robe, and a silver badge was pinned to his collar—the emblem of the Ashwinders, depicting a serpent breathing fire.
Ranrok stood opposite him.
He wore dark red armor covered in scratches and dents.
The moment Elias saw him, his fingers tightened around his wand.
Rookwood's expression was strained, his brows knitted tightly together. His mouth moved rapidly as his hands gestured incessantly, and the wand in his grip occasionally pointed in Elias's direction.
What were they arguing about?
Elias had no idea.
But he knew one thing: the pair were blocking the open ground in front of the staircase.
Elias tightened his grip on his wand, suppressing the urge to gift them both a Chain Lightning.
If he made even the slightest mistake, the rescue mission could immediately become a failure—and they would skip straight to preparing the funeral feast.
Just then, dark clouds began gathering overhead.
Elias's eyes lit up.
This truly was like an old lady slipping into bed—the sight brought a grin to his face.
The clouds grew thicker and darker, dimming the light across the courtyard. The goblins' gazes were drawn firmly toward the gray mass overhead, and no one noticed a figure rising from behind the rubble piled against the wall.
Elias stepped out from his hiding place.
He made no unnecessary sound. The Disillusionment Charm blended his body into his surroundings, while the rustling wind sweeping through the rubble concealed his footsteps.
Remaining close to the shadows along the wall, he advanced toward the staircase one careful step at a time.
Rookwood looked up at the darkening sky, his frown deepening. Ranrok also raised his head toward the gray clouds, his expression shifting from annoyed to even more annoyed.
Neither of them noticed Elias walking directly past them.
Less than ten meters separated them. From that distance, Elias could clearly see the creases in Rookwood's robes and the scratches gouged into Ranrok's armor.
A moment later, Elias turned sideways and slipped into the staircase entrance.
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