Usually, when Leonard used plant seeds, he simply tossed them onto the ground and let them take root, sprout, and grow into shape.
That was normal thinking, after all. Wasn't that how seeds were supposed to grow?
But Leonard's seeds were no ordinary seeds. That seemingly unremarkable innate ability, the power to make seeds grow anywhere, had been wasted all this time.
When one of those seeds landed on the ground, it devoured elements and magic from the soil, stone, or even metal in order to grow. To the naked eye, it looked as though the plant had bitten a chunk out of whatever it landed on.
So what would happen if a seed landed on a person?
The effect would be spectacular. Like something had taken a bite out of them.
That was why Leonard had deliberately prepared this kind of seed. He wanted to test whether he could plant a seed directly into someone's body.
And that was how these hollow bullets, paired with a gun, came into being.
Some people might ask, if he was going to go to that much trouble to shoot seeds into people, why not just do the simple thing and blow their heads off with one shot? Why make things so complicated?
Why?
To raise the upper limit of Muggle weapons, obviously.
Do not be fooled by how intimidating firearms looked when they could kill a wizard in one shot. Against certain magical creatures, they were not all that useful.
The muscle fibers of magical creatures, along with the magic-rich fur covering their bodies, were enough to resist shots from a small-caliber handgun and keep bullets from penetrating very deeply.
And that said nothing of magical creatures with scales.
If it could not even kill magical creatures, then what use was this lousy gun?
To make this design work, the bullet tip was made of soft pure silver, ensuring that on impact it would expose the seed inside so it could make direct contact with the target.
The reduced powder charge made sure that against fragile targets, the round would not punch all the way through and waste the seed.
And to fit this type of bullet, Leonard modified the seed itself. He used a parasitic pod, the strongest in corrosive power, as the base, drastically shortened the seed's lifespan, and compressed all of its power into a single instant of explosive growth before rapid disintegration.
That way, the seed would not only devour matter more frantically while growing, it would also destroy the evidence afterward, leaving no way for anyone to discover either the bullet's mechanism or Leonard's secret of using magical plants.
Leonard had named this bullet Ephemeral.
As for the other bullets that had not been made yet, naturally, they had not earned names.
Leonard restored the bullet and slid it back into the magazine. At that moment, heavy raindrops began pelting the train window with a sharp rattling sound.
He turned to look outside. Seeing the dark clouds blanketing the sky and the drifting figures half-hidden among them, a trace of eager anticipation curled at his lips.
He wondered whether Dementors, those creatures that gave wizards endless headaches, would be able to withstand his specially made bullets.
He found himself rather looking forward to it. If those monsters came right up to him, and if he lured them into attacking first, then killing them ought to count as self-defense, right?
The train kept moving, gradually leaving the city behind and entering the open plains. Leonard sat alone in the compartment, repeatedly disassembling and reassembling the pistol in his hands.
He was not doing it to familiarize himself with the gun's structure. Once he modified it, the internal arrangement would definitely change, and he could always learn the new structure later.
He was simply bored and looking for something to do.
The weather outside worsened by the minute. Rain fell like a curtain, covering the sky, and everything in the distance was blurred and hazy.
Then, as if the train had passed through some invisible veil, the temperature inside the compartment suddenly began to drop, and a trace of hesitation rose in Leonard's heart.
"They're here?"
Leonard looked out the window and saw countless black shadows circling the train like ghosts.
The smoothly moving train abruptly slammed to a halt. The violent inertia sent the students in the other compartments into shrieks and chaos.
Leonard had been prepared. He braced himself in place, and while everyone else was still wondering what had happened, he already saw the Dementors force their way onto the train.
They were oddly disciplined about it too. One Dementor per compartment, entering in an orderly fashion.
Leonard felt his mood growing heavier and heavier. Right now, it was as if he had been plunged into an environment saturated with negative emotion.
The feeling was probably something like being stuck in a dead-end company with endless overtime, miserable pay, and an idiot boss, with a balding office worker in the middle of a midlife crisis on one side, saddled with a shrewish wife, unfilial children, and a daughter who skipped class and slept around, while on the other side sat a foul-mouthed, petty, menopausal woman who watched soap operas all day and never stopped nagging...
It felt like soaking in an ocean of negativity, like he was about to be marinated in it.
Leonard's temper flared instantly. With a sharp click, he chambered a round.
Dementors really deserved to die. Today, he was going to blast one to pieces and grind the remains to dust.
The cold pressed closer and closer. The Dementor was already very near. The students in the nearby compartments had long since shrunk back inside, huddling together and trembling.
It was a Dementor, after all. A monster that was immune to most magic and fed on human happiness.
Just having one draw near made them feel as though they would never be happy again. Their minds were filled with nothing but painful memories.
Everyone except Leonard.
He was affected too. The Dementor had indeed stirred up memories in him, but what surfaced were the memories of his previous life.
Back then, he had had no cheat, no magic, nothing but his own skills to survive in the life of a scavenger. Countless memories of pain, anger, and bitterness came back to gnaw at his heart like ants.
But he did not sink under them.
Maybe because those memories belonged to another lifetime, they did not affect the present him quite as deeply. So more than pain, what Leonard felt now was anger.
The hell are you, Dementor, to make me suffer like this?
Leonard kicked the compartment door open and came face-to-face with a Dementor in the narrow corridor.
It was a figure wrapped from head to toe in tattered, filthy cloth. Its whole body, even its face, was hidden beneath the fabric. The cloth clung tightly to its head, yet showed no trace of features, only a hollow black depression that devoured the emotion called happiness.
This was a Dementor.
The creature had been about to open a compartment door and feast on the students' happiness, those bright, colorful emotions luring it like sweet honey.
Then a figure burning with fiery-red emotion appeared in front of it.
Before it could react, Leonard had already raised his pistol and, with eyes full of anger, pain, and anticipation, pulled the trigger.
Fire flashed.
A bullet shot out and struck the Dementor square in the forehead.
So you're the one they call a Dementor.