"Which means…"
He took a deep breath and forced out the most terrifying conclusion:
"…even if a tactical nuclear weapon were detonated directly above its head, the resulting shockwave and heat… still wouldn't be able to shake its defenses in the slightest."
"And the radiation produced by the blast—energy that doesn't belong to this world…"
"…has over an eighty percent chance of becoming… nourishment for them."
That conclusion was the final straw.
Magic was useless.
Technology was useless.
How were they supposed to fight this?
This wasn't a war with uncertain odds—
It was a war with no chance of victory from the very beginning.
"So… what do we do now?"
"Call for global support! Gather everyone! We have to assemble every Auror in the world—use sheer numbers to hold them at the Amazon!"
"It's pointless! Didn't you see? Brazil's elite unit lasted five minutes! Sending more people is just sending them to die!"
"Are we… really just going to stand by and watch Earth get devoured piece by piece?"
Panic finally exploded.
Arguments, shouting, and despairing cries filled the chamber.
The United States—long known as the "world's magical police," the strongest magical power on Earth—
was now no different from the ordinary Aurors who had died helplessly on the battlefield.
Completely powerless.
"Silence!"
At last, President Seraphina Picquery used a Sonorus Charm to suppress the chaos.
Even her composed face showed fatigue—and a trace of deep helplessness.
And this scene…
was not unique to America.
In that same moment, across the globe, in every remaining center of magical authority, the exact same realization was taking shape.
London, British Ministry of Magic.
Kingsley Shacklebolt stared grimly at the live battlefield footage from the International Confederation of Wizards.
Behind him, the world map showed the red zone of contamination spreading at an alarming rate.
"Minister!" Percy Weasley rushed in, pale-faced. "All our Dark Arts defense experts—none of them can deal with that 'soul fire'! Every defensive and healing spell we have… is ineffective!"
Kingsley closed his eyes.
What surfaced in his mind wasn't a spell—
but that boy…
standing in Hogwarts…
crushing Bellatrix with nothing but a glance, inflicting a level of soul-deep pain beyond the Cruciatus Curse.
Paris, France.
"It's impossible!" a master alchemist said, shaking his head in despair. "The structure of that 'purple crystal'—its resistance to magic and physical force—is beyond our understanding! It's like… a completely closed 'law system'!"
"Unless… unless you overwrite it with a higher-level, more fundamental law… there is no way to destroy it!"
Higher-level laws.
Every wizard present thought of the same figure.
The one who, with a mere trace of bloodline aura, had made even Madame Maxime submit instinctively.
Despair spread like a suffocating night across the entire magical world.
All of humanity's accumulated wisdom, power, and courage—
meant nothing in the face of this dimensional invasion.
And when all mortal paths had failed—
only one remained.
A path toward… a god.
International Confederation of Wizards — Emergency Summit
"...That is the situation."
The elderly Swiss witch, current Chairwoman of the Confederation, finished her report in a hoarse voice.
"Conventional magic—ineffective."
"Modern technology—ineffective."
"We are facing… an unprecedented… civilizational catastrophe."
She looked around at the leaders of the magical world.
"…Do we… still have any hope left?"
Silence.
A suffocating silence.
Then—
"We do."
Seraphina Picquery spoke first.
Then Kingsley:
"Yes. We do."
France. Germany. China…
One after another, leaders who once disagreed, competed—even opposed one another—
now shared the same thought.
The same name.
The man who had surpassed mortal understanding.
The one who ended an era and opened a new one.
The one currently traveling the world…
Like a god.
"I understand."
The Chairwoman stood up decisively.
"Activate the 'Prometheus' emergency channel immediately!"
"Send a distress signal—to our only trump card—"
"Lord Lin Sen!"
Deep Sea — The Crystal Palace
Within the tranquil underwater world, Lin Sen paused.
He lifted his head.
His gaze pierced through kilometers of ocean, through the earth itself—
locking onto South America.
"Lin Sen?" Hermione asked.
He didn't answer.
With a wave, a massive water mirror appeared.
Within it—
a torn sky, a massive spatial rift, and endless waves of invading monsters.
"…This is…?" Hermione froze.
At that moment—
a faint but desperate signal reached Lin Sen's mind.
S.O.S… Lord Lin Sen… Earth is under invasion…
He stood up.
His eyes, calm until now, finally turned cold.
Like a chess player noticing insects crawling over his board.
"…Looks like," he said flatly,
"our graduation trip… needs to be paused."
Amazon — Frontline of the Rift
The rainforest had become a land of death.
Purple crystal. Green soul-fire.
The invasion army surged forward like a flood.
The rift continued expanding.
The world stood on the brink of collapse.
And then—
Space tore open.
A silver gate appeared.
From it—
a lone figure stepped out.
Black robes drifting.
Lin Sen.
No hesitation. No delay.
He arrived directly at—
the center of the storm.
The monsters noticed him.
For a moment, confusion flickered.
Then—
rage.
Tens of thousands locked onto him.
They charged.
A tidal wave of destruction.
Lin Sen simply raised his eyes.
His gaze swept across them—
then settled on the rift.
"…Making a mess at my doorstep…"
His voice was calm. Cold.
"…isn't a good habit."
Then—
alone—
He stepped forward.
Facing the endless horde.
Standing before the rift itself.
Like an eternal gate between two worlds.
One man. One gate.
Against ten thousand demons.
~~--------------------------
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