Distress signals filled with panic and despair poured out from South America like a blizzard, spreading across the entire world!
The global magical community was shaken to its core by this sudden, unprecedented interdimensional invasion, plunging into a suffocating terror—as if the end of the world had arrived.
Deep within the Amazon rainforest, the massive black rift stretching across the sky showed no sign of closing. Instead, under the domineering erosion of foreign planar laws, it was visibly… expanding.
Along its edges, violet spatial lightning flickered like venomous fangs, gnawing relentlessly at the blue sky of this world.
Each flash meant that another fragment of space had been completely assimilated—corrupted.
A cold, alien set of laws—filled with plunder and annihilation—spread outward like a deadly virus, seeping into Earth through the rift.
Under this invasion of foreign laws, the Amazon rainforest was the first to cry out in pain.
The towering ancient trees, once brimming with life and natural magic, began to wither. Their leaves yellowed, curled, and eventually disintegrated into ash.
The magical creatures that had lived here for generations suddenly felt a suffocating weakness rising from deep within their souls—as if the very "air" they depended on for survival was being replaced by a lethal toxin.
Earth's world laws were being polluted.
And compared to this silent corrosion, the invading army itself was far more immediate—and far more deadly.
After devastating thousands of square kilometers of rainforest, the vanguard of the invasion army—composed of Winged Fire Scorpions, Shadow Hounds, and Amethyst Behemoths—finally clashed with the defenders of this world's civilization.
"ALL UNITS—ATTENTION!"
"FIRE! OPEN FIRE AT WILL!"
At the rainforest's edge, behind a hastily formed defensive line of several hundred Aurors clad in green camouflage robes, a commander roared at the top of his lungs.
They were South America's elite—masters of jungle warfare.
"Sectumsempra!"
"Confringo!"
"Impedimenta!"
Hundreds of spells—wild, explosive, and uniquely Latin American in style—erupted like a barrage of multicolored artillery, merging into a torrent of magical force that slammed into the oncoming tide of monsters.
What happened next shattered every ounce of their confidence.
Their spell barrage struck the enemy like—
…rainwater hitting a charge of heavily armored cavalry.
The razor-sharp Sectumsempra spells, capable of tearing apart dragons, struck the amethyst crystal armor of the Behemoths and produced nothing more than faint metallic clinks—not even a scratch.
The devastating explosions of Confringo, powerful enough to level hills, vanished upon impact with the Shadow Hounds—completely absorbed by their dark energy bodies.
Their attacks…
Their full-force attacks…
"Impossible…" the commander muttered, his face drained of color as despair took hold.
The invaders gave them no time to recover.
A shrill screech filled the sky as hundreds of Winged Fire Scorpions unleashed a rain of emerald soul fire.
"Protego! Raise the shields!"
It didn't matter.
The green flames ignored all physical and magical defenses, passing straight through protective barriers and landing directly on the Aurors themselves.
Their bodies remained unharmed.
But their souls burned.
Screams—far more agonizing than even the Cruciatus Curse—rang out across the battlefield. Aurors dropped their wands, clutching their heads as they writhed in unbearable torment before collapsing lifelessly.
One volley.
Just one.
And nearly a third of Brazil's elite Auror force was gone.
The line collapsed instantly.
The survivors, their will shattered, turned and fled in terror—only to be swallowed by the advancing tide of Shadow Hounds.
This first "War to Defend Civilization"…
Lasted less than five minutes.
And ended in complete, one-sided annihilation.
News of the massacre spread across the world within minutes.
London. Washington. Paris. Berlin. Moscow…
Every major magical authority fell into a suffocating silence.
"...Confirmed?" Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice trembled for the first time. "The Jaguar Unit… wiped out?"
Percy Weasley, pale as a ghost, delivered the report.
"Our magic… seems to be… largely ineffective."
At MACUSA's Strategic Analysis Center:
"Sectumsempra loses 99.8% effectiveness against Amethyst Behemoths."
"Confringo is fully neutralized by Shadow-type entities."
"And the worst—those flying scorpions. Their soul fire bypasses nearly all known defenses and directly targets the soul."
The conclusion:
"To kill a single Behemoth… requires at least 300 elite wizards attacking simultaneously."
"And there are already… over one thousand of them."
Panic spread faster than the invasion itself.
Every magical system—European spellcraft, Asian formations, African totem magic—
All of it failed.
Completely.
This was no longer just a war.
This was a dimensional mismatch—a crushing, systemic collapse of one civilization before a superior one.
At the International Confederation of Wizards, chaos reigned.
And yet…
The one being who might have turned the tide—
The only "godlike" figure capable of stopping this disaster—
Was still far beneath the ocean…
In MACUSA's emergency council chamber, the data painted a grim reality:
Rift expansion: 1.2 km/hourLaw corruption: 0.03% per hourEnemy growth: 5,000 units/hourMagic effectiveness: <7%
Projection:
If not contained within 72 hours, South America will suffer irreversible ecological collapse.
"…What about Muggle weapons?"
The question stunned the room.
"Bombs. Missiles. Even… nuclear weapons?"
Silence.
Then the chief analyst shook his head.
"Useless."
He pointed at the Behemoths.
"They possess near-absolute resistance to physical force and thermal radiation."
Even nuclear weapons…
Wouldn't save them.
The room fell silent once more.
Because now, everyone understood:
This was no longer about politics, secrecy, or law.
This was about survival.
~~--------------------------
Visit my patreon for advance chapters:
patreon.com/DevilWarden