pdf-ebookys Chapter 569-578: The Prelude to the Deep Space Descent 7
Chapter 569-578: The Prelude to the Deep Space Descent 7
Chapter 569-578: The Prelude to the Deep Space Descent 7
The dragon's evolutionary counterattack.
This was clearly contrary to the two professors' predictions.
However, they are not the type of people who would panic.
"spread!"
Grindelwald roared and vanished from his spot in an instant. Dumbledore also Apparated, narrowly avoiding the devastating dragon breath.
Of course, their apparitions were nothing more than the laughable struggles of their prey in the eyes of the dragon.
"Roar roar roar!"
It suddenly twisted its head, and its huge head, covered with new scales, slammed towards the direction where Grindelwald had appeared with an agility completely disproportionate to its size!
As soon as Grindelwald appeared, he saw a mountain-sized head pressing down on him! His pupils contracted sharply, and without time to Apparate, he could only push forward with both hands and then the compressed black flames transformed into a huge shield in front of him!
"boom!!!"
The giant dragon's head collided violently with the Fiery Shield!
"Damn it!" Grindelwald's body flew backward like a cannonball, crashing through three giant trees and finally embedding itself deeply into the trunk of a fourth tree.
Blood was flowing from the corners of his mouth, nostrils, and eyes, and the bones in his arms were making a sickening cracking sound, clearly indicating that they were broken.
However, the fiery shield actually blocked the dragon's impact! Although it was only for a brief moment, that moment was enough.
"I am coming!"
Dumbledore's attack arrived in that instant. He didn't attack the dragon's scales; he knew it was useless. His target was the dragon's newly healed eyes!
The Elder Wand burst forth with a dazzling golden light, and a beam of light as thin as a hair, yet condensed to the extreme, precisely pierced the dragon's left eye!
The beam of light didn't try to penetrate; instead, it exploded directly inside the eyeball!
The dragon let out a shrill scream! Its left eye burst open again, and blood and bodily fluids gushed out, splashing onto the ground and instantly corroding deep, bottomless pits!
But this time, Dumbledore didn't stop.
He waved his hands repeatedly, and countless tiny, needle-like golden beams shot out from the Elder Wand, raining down on the dragon's head like a storm! The beams targeted the dragon's nostrils, ears, and mouth—the weakest points in its defense, uncovered by scales!
The dragon frantically thrashed its head, trying to dodge the deadly beams of light. But Dumbledore's attacks were too dense and too precise; with each thrashing, dozens of beams pierced its vitals!
Blood cascaded down the dragon's head like a waterfall, pooling on the ground into a vast, smoky lake of poisonous blood. Wherever the poisonous blood passed, even rocks were corroded into a viscous liquid, emitting a nauseating hissing sound.
Grindelwald broke free from the tree trunk, his arms hanging limply at his sides, but his eyes burned with an even more frenzied fighting spirit.
He didn't try to use the wand. The wand had vanished the instant he embedded himself in the tree trunk. He simply hovered in mid-air, opened his mouth, took a deep breath, and then exhaled sharply!
It wasn't dragon's breath, but Fiery Blaze!
He used his own body as a vessel for the Fiery Flame, spewing out the remaining Fiery Flame, which had become one with his soul, directly from his mouth!
The flames were a pure, abyssal black. They had no temperature, no light, only pure, absolute devouring power!
The black flames transformed into a thin, snake-like line of fire, precisely piercing the dragon's bleeding nostril!
The dragon's screams abruptly ceased.
Its body stiffened violently, and then—it began to convulse wildly!
The black flames entered through its nostrils, traveled along its respiratory tract, and spread wildly towards its lungs, its internal organs, and the most vulnerable parts of its body!
Grindelwald exhaled his last breath of Fiendfire, and like a kite with a broken string, he plummeted towards the ground. Dumbledore used his last bit of magic to catch him and gently placed him back on the ground.
The two lay side by side on the scorched ground, panting heavily, too weak to stand up.
Meanwhile, the dragon was struggling frantically not far from them.
Black flames spewed from its mouth and nose, from its eye sockets, and from its ear canals—unquenchable flames that devoured life force! Its body was being scorched, devoured, and destroyed by those flames!
It tried to burn the flames inside its body with its dragon breath, but it couldn't bring itself to do it, as it was its own body.
It tried to suppress the flames with magic, but the flames themselves were formed from condensed magic, and the more it was suppressed, the more frenzied they became.
It tried—but all its efforts were in vain.
That enormous, mountain-like body rolled, struggled, and roared on the open ground. Each struggle made the earth tremble, and each roar made the sky shudder. But the struggles grew weaker and weaker, and the roars grew softer and softer—finally, it stopped moving.
That terrifying being, once capable of tearing the heavens and earth apart, now lies silently on the scorched ground, no longer a sound.
Its eyes were wide open, and wisps of black smoke were still billowing from its mouth and nostrils—the last traces of its fierce fire dissipating. The newly evolved, indestructible scales on its body had lost their luster, becoming dull and fragile.
died.
really dead.
Dumbledore and Grindelwald lay there, staring at the enormous corpse, too exhausted to even laugh.
In the distance, Ian put away the small device and slowly walked to their side.
He looked down at the two exhausted, blood-covered old men, his deep eyes flashing with a complex light—gratification, heartache, and a hint of—admiration.
"Professors," he said softly, a hint of a smile in his voice, "thank you for your hard work."
He crouched down, took out two small bottles from his pocket, and held them to the lips of the two men. The bottles contained a honey-like liquid that emitted a soft glow.
Dumbledore didn't ask what it was, and drank it down. Grindelwald did the same.
The moment the liquid entered his throat, a warm, spring-like power spread from his stomach throughout his body. The broken bones, the torn muscles, the depleted source of magic began to heal at a visible speed!
Dumbledore slowly sat up, looking at Ian with surprise in his eyes: "This is—"
Ian smiled slightly: "Phoenix Tears. I asked Fox for them before I left. He initially refused to give them to me, but I told him they were for you, and he reluctantly squeezed out a few drops."
Dumbledore paused for a moment, then smiled. The smile on his aged face was exceptionally warm and comforting.
Grindelwald sat up, stretching his newly healed arms, a complex light flickering in his heterochromatic eyes. He looked at Ian, paused for a few seconds, and then slowly spoke: "Child, you were just—taking pictures?"
Ian blinked, his innocent expression making you want to punch him: "Of course. I said I wanted to record the two professors' most embarrassing moments."
He pulled the small device from his pocket, which displayed the images he had just captured—Dumbledore being forced to flee in a sorry state by the dragon's breath, Grindelwald embedding himself in the tree trunk, and the two lying on the ground, barely alive—each image was crystal clear.
Dumbledore's lips twitched.
Grindelwald's eyebrows furrowed.
Ian looked at them, his smile widening. "Don't worry, I'll only show these photos to everyone after you become legends. I've even thought of a title: The Birth of a Legend: From Stupid to Great."
Dumbledore shook his head helplessly, but the smile on his lips deepened.
Grindelwald snorted, but wasn't truly angry. He stood up and walked towards the enormous dragon corpse, a complex emotion flickering in his eyes.
It was the relief after exhaustion, the感慨 after victory, and a hint of anticipation for the upcoming transformation.
No wizard doesn't yearn to become a legend.
Dumbledore also stood up and walked to the other side of the dragon's corpse. The two looked at each other across the massive carcass, both seeing the same thing in each other's eyes.
joy.
They did it.
They really did it.
"Well, this should be enough material. The Hogwarts Daily News will give me a good price." Ian put away the small device and walked to the two of them. He looked up at the ancient dragon, which was as huge as a mountain range, and a trace of nostalgia flashed in his deep eyes—as if he had seen this scene countless times before.
"The two of you."
Ian spoke, his voice calm yet tinged with seriousness, "It's not over yet."
Grindelwald looked at him: "What do you mean?"
Ian pointed to the enormous dragon corpse: "You killed it simply to prove you deserved to be legends. But to truly cross that threshold, one final step is needed."
He paused, a slight smile playing on his lips: "Bathe in dragon blood."
This is a fact.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow slightly: "Bathed in dragon's blood?"
At this time, Dumbledore did not understand the legendary metamorphosis as well as he would later. During this period, Dumbledore focused more on studying knowledge related to the soul and the mystical realm.
Ian understood, so he nodded: "The blood of the ancient dragon contains the essence of its ten thousand years of life, and its primal power to defy the laws of heaven and earth. When it was alive, these powers were bound by its will, and you could not absorb them. But now—"
He looked at the dragon corpse that had begun to cool: "It's dead. Its power awaits a new master."
A flicker of excitement crossed Grindelwald's eyes: "You mean, we're going to—soak in dragon's blood?"
"More or less," Ian said, "but not just any ordinary soak. It's about letting the dragon blood completely permeate your bodies, from skin to muscle, from bone to soul. Only then can those primal powers truly merge with you and help you break through that threshold."
He paused, then added, "This process will be painful. Dragon blood is not docile; it contains the wildness and power of dragons. What you must do is not resist, but accept it. Let it transform you, reshape you."
Dumbledore was silent for a few seconds, then smiled slightly: "Pain? Having lived this long, the one thing I have no shortage of is the experience of enduring pain."
Grindelwald scoffed, "Enough talk, let's begin."
Ian nodded and took a few steps back.
He raised his hands, and those small, delicate hands seemed to contain boundless power—an invisible magic surged from his palms, like countless unseen hands, lifting the enormous dragon corpse and slowly suspending it in mid-air. Dumbledore and Grindelwald watched this scene, a hint of shock flashing in their eyes.
The other person didn't use a wand.
They were already able to handle such a huge corpse.
This shows how high his magical skills were.
"Don't just stand there," Ian's voice came from ahead, tinged with amusement. "Get down there."
Dumbledore and Grindelwald exchanged a glance and, as instructed, walked directly beneath the dragon's corpse.
Ian made a light swipe of his finger.
On the abdomen of that enormous dragon corpse, a huge wound slowly split open.
Then-
Blood cascaded down like a waterfall.
The dragon blood wasn't the bright red they had imagined; instead, it was a strange, deep gold, like molten lava. It emitted a blinding light and a suffocating heat, cascading down from a height of three hundred meters like a golden waterfall, completely engulfing the two of them!
At that instant, Dumbledore and Grindelwald both let out a suppressed groan.
hot!
It wasn't just ordinary heat; it was the kind of extreme heat that could burn away even the soul! The temperature of that dragon blood was a hundred times higher than they had imagined! When it landed on the skin, it didn't just burn; it penetrated directly—penetrating the skin, the muscles, the bones, and reaching the very depths of the soul!
Dumbledore gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to resist. He remembered Ian's words: do not resist, accept. Let the dragon's blood transform and reshape him.
He closed his eyes, letting the golden waterfall wash over his body.
Pain. Indescribable pain.
Each drop of dragon blood was like a red-hot knife, slicing wildly through his body. Each drop of dragon blood was like an angry fire serpent, writhing madly through his veins. They tore at his muscles, burned his bones, and reshaped every single cell in his body.
But he didn't move. He didn't cry out. He just stood there quietly, enduring everything.
Grindelwald didn't move either. But he didn't close his eyes. His heterochromatic eyes were wide open, staring intently at the cascading golden waterfall, his gaze filled with madness and excitement.
"Interesting—" he murmured, his voice hoarse and trembling, "Really interesting—"
He felt his source of magic being violently assaulted by the dragon blood. The limits that had once bound him, the limits that this era could not break through, were now shattering layer by layer under the scouring of the dragon blood. New power was surging in, merging with his original magic, and producing some kind of qualitative change.
Time seemed to stand still.
I don't know how much time has passed.
It may be a moment, or it may be ten thousand years.
The golden waterfall finally stopped.
The dragon's blood has run dry.
Dumbledore and Grindelwald stood in a pool of golden blood, their bodies covered in a thick, cooled, and solidified shell of dragon blood.
Those hard shells encased them like two golden statues, motionless.
Then a crack appeared.
It started with Dumbledore's forehead. A small crack spread across the golden shell, then a second, a third—countless cracks spread outwards like a spider web.
finally.
"Bang!"
Golden fragments scattered and flew everywhere.
Dumbledore was the first to emerge from the dragon's blood shell.
He is completely different now.
It was as if he had been reborn.