readease Chapter 578, page 587: Deep Space Echoes March 7
Chapter 578, page 587: Deep Space Echoes March 7
Chapter 578, page 587: Deep Space Echoes March 7
The Auror squad originally tasked with guarding Azkaban was now in complete disarray. They were still reeling from witnessing the devastating power of the two legendary wizards, and the sense of powerlessness they felt as mortals facing gods had not yet dissipated. Now, they had to confront this group of Dementors who had completely gone berserk.
"Form defensive formation! Quickly!" the Auror captain roared, trying to stabilize the situation. However, his orders seemed so pale and powerless in the face of the overwhelming black tide of Dementors.
The Dementors seemed to have lost their minds; they no longer floated slowly but darted about like black lightning. They clashed with the Aurors' Patronus Charms, whose once silvery-white light teetered precariously under their frenzied onslaught. A fawn, the manifestation of a Patronus Charm, had barely taken shape when it was swarmed by three crazed Dementors and instantly swallowed by the black chill, dissipating into starlight and vanishing into the air.
"Their power has increased!" another female Auror screamed in despair. "No, it's their hatred that has increased!"
They are absorbing each other's pain!
Indeed. Unable to escape, these Dementors began to devour each other's despair. In this confined space, negative emotions formed a terrifying loop, with each Dementor becoming nourishment for the others.
Their size is expanding!
The surrounding temperature was dropping at an alarming rate, and even the breath exhaled by the Aurors was instantly frozen into ice shards.
The battle quickly devolved into a one-sided massacre, only this time, the roles of hunter and prey were strangely reversed. The Aurors fought with all their might, their various spells weaving a chaotic web of light in the air.
"Protect the Gods!"
"Immediately imprison them!"
"Flames are raging!"
Red flames, blue freezing spells, and golden binding chains all struck the black cloaks, but were like mud sinking into the sea, failing to create even a ripple. Ordinary offensive spells were almost ineffective against Dementors in their berserk state, while the Patronus Charm required an extremely strong memory of joy. But in this extremely oppressive, cold, and despair-filled environment, who could easily summon the joy deep within their heart?
A seasoned Auror attempted to summon a lion, but the images of Grindelwald's disdainful gaze and Dumbledore's sorrowful expression flashed through his mind. That momentary hesitation caused his Patronus to crumble as soon as it emerged. Immediately afterward, two frenzied Dementors pounced, piercing right through his body.
"Ah—!" The Auror let out a scream that was not human, his whole body went limp to the ground, and the light in his eyes dimmed instantly, as if a piece of his soul had been forcibly ripped out. He lay on the cold ground, white foam dripping from the corner of his mouth, in a permanent coma, and he might never wake up again.
This scene severely damaged the morale of the remaining Aurors. Panic spread like wildfire. Some began to retreat, some dropped their wands, and some even knelt on the ground, weeping and awaiting death.
"We can't die here! We still have families!"
"Someone save us! Professor Dumbledore! Mr. Grindelwald! Anyone!"
The shouts were drowned out by the Dementors' shrieks. The black figures swirled in the air, forming a massive black vortex that surrounded the surviving Aurors. They seemed to sense the wizards' fear and grew even more excited. They no longer rushed to absorb souls, but instead approached slowly like cats catching mice, enjoying the sight of their prey struggling in despair.
Azkaban's ground was covered with a thick layer of black ice, a product of frozen despair. The Aurors' defenses had completely collapsed; they huddled back to back, the light from their wands growing weaker and weaker. In this endless darkness and cold, the aura of death was so intense it was suffocating.
"It's over—it's all over—" the Auror captain muttered to himself, his wand falling limply to the floor. He watched the approaching shadows, only one thought remaining in his mind: Is this the end? After the Dark Lord was defeated, were they destined to become casualties in this god-like battle?
Just as an exceptionally large Dementor opened its empty mask, preparing to deliver the final blow to Captain Auror, a sudden change occurred.
Just at this critical moment, a strange noise suddenly rang out.
The sound wasn't loud; in fact, it was quite faint. Yet, amidst the cacophony of shrieks and howling wind, it clearly reached everyone's ears.
It was the sound of wings beating through the air, steady and powerful, with an ancient and mysterious rhythm.
Then.
A silvery-white color.
A pure, almost blinding light suddenly shone from a corner of the ruins!
The light did not emanate from the wand, nor from any magical object. It was pure, ancient, and imbued with an indescribable aura of holiness.
It was as if it came from the first ray of light at the beginning of the world.
The light swept across Azkaban, past the maddened Dementors, past the desperate Aurors—and all the Dementors stopped at the same time.
Their rotting, featureless faces turned toward the source of the light, and for the first time, a kind of "surprise" appeared in their empty eye sockets.
flapping — flapping —
All movements seemed to freeze at that moment.
Whether it was the rampaging Dementors or the Aurors on the verge of collapse, they all stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to the source of the sound.
At the highest point of the ruins of Azkaban, on that towering stone where the tallest watchtower once stood, now only a section of broken walls remains.
A black figure appeared out of nowhere.
That was a raven.
Its entire body was jet black, its feathers gleaming with a deep blue sheen in the sunlight, as if woven from the purest night. Its eyes were as deep as pools, revealing a wisdom and indifference that transcended species.
It stood silently on the precarious rock, unmoved by the raging magical currents around it, as if it were the only anchor in this chaotic world. The raven was several times larger than an ordinary raven, its wings folded to its sides, yet it still exuded an undeniable presence.
It stood there, looking down at the frenzied creatures below, like a king scrutinizing his subjects.
The miracle happened at that moment.
The Dementors, which had been rampaging and attacking anyone they saw, seemed to have their throats gripped by some invisible force the moment they saw the raven.
Their piercing screams ceased abruptly, replaced by an almost awe-inspiring tremor.
The largest Dementor let out a low hiss, its previous madness gone, replaced only by instinctive fear. It slowly retreated, and the Dementors behind it followed, like the receding tide, slowly moving away from the barrier and the Aurors.
Then, a jaw-dropping scene unfolded.
The largest Dementor, which had just been about to kill Captain Auror, slowly turned around and lowered its faceless head to the raven on the high rock.
Then it began to move, not rushing towards its prey, but flying towards the rock.
One, two, ten, a hundred—countless Dementors rose from the ruins, flying towards the direction of the raven. They circled and gathered below the raven.
Like pilgrims on a pilgrimage, like weary birds returning to their nests.
All the remaining Dementors, no matter how insane they had been before, and no matter how far they had been from the rock, now seemed to be summoned by some supreme power.
Yes.
They abandoned their prey that was within reach, abandoned their urge to unleash their madness, and uniformly changed direction, transforming into streaks of black light.
They rushed towards the towering rock.
The ravens simply watched them silently, their dark eyes devoid of any emotion—no joy, no anger, only an age-old, timeless tranquility.
"What's going on?!"
The Aurors stared in stunned silence, forgetting even to breathe.
They watched as the monsters that had once struck fear into their hearts now gathered around the raven like a flock of weary birds returning to their nest.
The raven remained motionless, only tilting its head slightly. Its deep eyes swept over the trembling crowd below, finally settling on the converging black torrent.
When the last Dementor flew near the rock, strange things happened again.
The raven cawed softly, its voice low, yet it carried clearly throughout Azkaban, across the surrounding seas, and into the ears of everyone.
As the cry subsided, all the Dementors fell silent. They ceased struggling, shrieking, and attempting to flee, simply hovering quietly beneath the raven.
Like the most loyal guardian.
around.
The barrier lit up again, the cracks slowly healed, and it regained its original sturdiness.
Everyone just stared blankly at the raven.
Looking at the Dementors that had quieted down below it, its mind went blank.
The Dementor's black form did not remain on the stone surface, but began to shrink and fade rapidly upon contact with the faint halo around the raven.
Their black cloaks turned into wisps of black smoke, and the nauseating chill dissipated into the air.
They did not disappear, but were "contained".
The raven spread its wings, which seemed to grow infinitely wide, instantly covering the entire stone ceiling. A gentle and mysterious power emanated from it, forming a massive gravitational field. All the Dementors turned into black smoke, continuously drawn into the raven's wings, like rivers flowing into the sea.
The entire process was eerily quiet, with only the sound of wings flapping and the faint rustling of black smoke.
In less than a minute, the dark shadows that filled the sky vanished without a trace. The thick clouds above Azkaban seemed to have been dispersed somewhat by this mysterious force, and a ray of sunlight pierced through the clouds, shining on the towering rock and the raven.
The raven retracted its wings, its form appearing somewhat more solid than before. It took one last look at the still-shaken Aurors below.
It let out a clear, melodious cry.
To be honest, the sound of the frog was clear and melodious, completely lacking the despairing quality of a Dementor, and instead carrying a calming power.
Upon hearing this cry, the Aurors felt the chill within them quickly recede, and the painful memories stirred up by the Dementors became blurred.
Instead, there was a sense of exhaustion and tranquility, as if one had survived a catastrophe.
The raven lowered its head and glanced at them. That glance was calm and profound, like a bottomless, icy pool, or like the gaze of an ancient god looking down upon all living beings.
Then, the raven took flight.
It did not fly towards the sea, nor towards the sky, but instead rushed straight into the darkest shadowy area deep within Azkaban and vanished instantly.
It's as if it never existed.
With the raven's departure, the suffocating oppression on Azkaban finally dissipated completely, leaving only the terrified Aurors behind.
He sat slumped in the ruins, unable to recover for a long time.
The battle in the sky is, of course, still ongoing.
just.
For the time being, no one is worried. After all, the fight between the two old men is a big scene, but it hasn't affected anyone else. It's far less frightening than the Dementor riot.
"I actually survived! Thank God! Thank you, Merlin!" Gleeson collapsed to the ground, panting heavily, his whole body drenched in cold sweat.
"What—what is it?"
A young Auror asked, his voice trembling with disbelief. The Auror captain struggled to his feet, wiping the frost from his face, his gaze a complex mix of emotions as he stared in the direction the raven had vanished: "I don't know—but I'm certain that if it hadn't been for it, we would all be dead."
The night wind howled, carrying the salty smell of the sea and the embers of volcanic ash, sweeping across the ruins of Azkaban.
The Aurors remained slumped on the ground, none of them having the strength to stand. Their faces were etched with the relief of surviving a catastrophe, and a deeper, unspeakable bewilderment.
The raven had already disappeared into the darkness with the Dementors, but the shock it left behind was etched deep into everyone's soul like a brand.
The crowd exchanged bewildered glances, a profound and indescribable awe rising within them. In the battle just now, Dumbledore and Grindelwald had displayed godlike power, tearing apart countless Dementors; but this mysterious raven, in an even more unfathomable way, had quelled the remaining calamity.
In this magical world.
Just how many unknown things are still hidden?
The wind blew through the ruins, bringing with it the salty scent of the sea.
The surviving Aurors helped each other up, looking at the ravaged island and the great battle in the sky, knowing in their hearts that today's experience would become an unforgettable nightmare for them.
This will also become another unsolved mystery in the history of magic.
Who is that raven? Why can it control the Dementors? Is it connected to Dumbledore or Grindelwald in some way? These questions may never be answered.
But everyone knew that on that afternoon when the sunlight pierced through the clouds, it was a mysterious raven that pulled them back from the brink of hell to the human world.
That mysterious animal.
As if he had stepped out of a myth, Ian made his presence known, but no one knew that he had returned to this point.
>