Voldemort did not bother too much with Link and the others. Instead, he began examining his newly restored body.
His pale hands looked like those of a giant spider, the long, thin fingers lightly stroking over his arms, chest, and face. Wherever they touched, goosebumps appeared on the freshly formed, tender skin.
This absolutely could not be called a pleasant experience, but his expression was ecstatic, almost frantic with joy. He kept moving his limbs, while his pair of scarlet, slit-pupil eyes, like a cat's, flickered with a strange light.
After a long while, he finally pulled a wand from the pocket of his robe, pointed it at the sky, and solemnly declared, "I am back!"
BOOM!
As if in response, the rolling black clouds in the sky suddenly exploded with a blood-red bolt of thunder.
In an instant, the hailstorm that had been covering the area stopped, and even the massive dark clouds that Link had conjured began to shift, quickly forming into the skull-shaped mark of the Dark Mark.
"Gulp!"
The hunters' captain swallowed hard, eyes staring straight at Voldemort.
When Voldemort and the Death Eaters once rampaged unchecked, the damage they inflicted on the British wizarding world had been far too great.
Almost their entire generation had grown up under the shroud of Voldemort's terror. To them, the name Voldemort was no longer just a person, it was a nightmare buried deep within their subconscious.
And now, that nightmare was truly standing before them, and in the form of their enemy no less.
How were they supposed to fight this?
The hunters' captain felt his heartbeat hammering so violently he thought it would burst from his throat.
Yet even so, he did not flee. Instead, he turned his eyes toward Link.
"Master, you must go. We'll cover you!"
The captain spoke with grave seriousness, and at his words, the surrounding hunters calmed themselves, gazing earnestly at Link.
The captain's words had reminded them.
The most urgent task now was to make sure Link escaped.
After all, the Flamel family was no charity organization.
If they died, then they died, the Flamel family would still pay each of their families a hefty sum in compensation afterward.
But if Link were to die, then their families would not have a single living soul left.
Yet looking at the people around him, Link only gave a bitter smile and shook his head.
His men were fine in every way, except they lacked perspective.
Link had personally witnessed Dumbledore fight. Because of this, he knew very well, when faced with wizards of the level of Dumbledore or Voldemort, unless there were equally powerful wizards to hold them off, attempting to run was basically nothing more than a delusion.
In fact, Link was carrying a Portkey with him that could take him away. If escape had been possible, he would have slipped out long ago.
"You don't seriously think we can retreat, do you?"
Link's cold words fell like a giant stone smashing into calm water, shattering the hunters' last sliver of hope.
At once, despair clouded everyone's faces. The hunter nearest to Link even stammered out, "Then… what do we do now?"
"What do we do? What else can we do?" Link sneered. "Bring out all your strength, and fight that monster to the death!"
"Yes! Fight to the death together! Running will only see us picked off one by one. Only by fighting do we have even a sliver of a chance!"
The towering German elder wizard echoed him firmly.
As veterans, their mentality was far better than the hunters'.
From the very first moment Voldemort appeared, they had already gathered close around Link, preparing for a desperate last stand with him at the center of their defense.
Of course, they weren't as naïve as the hunters to believe Link's words. In their minds, finding a chance to retreat was still the best option, even if Link himself seemed to have no such intention.
Encouraged by Link and the elder wizards, the hunters finally managed to muster some spirit.
But at that moment, a cold and violent voice suddenly rang out in everyone's minds, "So… have you decided?"
Everyone was horrified, snapping their heads up, only to realize Voldemort had already finished inspecting himself. He was now watching them with great amusement.
There was no hesitation.
Link's wand shot forward like a thrusting blade, and a water-drill spear wrapped in curse energy blasted toward Voldemort.
This was one of Link's newly researched fusion techniques. Although it had failed to make much headway against the armored Death Eater's shield before, that didn't mean it wasn't powerful.
In fact, this drill's destructive power far surpassed conventional professor-level spells, it was a true killing strike.
And seeing Link attack first, the hunters and elder wizards gritted their teeth and opened fire at Voldemort.
In an instant, spells of every color filled the sky like a magnificent rain of bullets, all converging straight toward Voldemort.
"Looks like this is your answer, then."
Voldemort remained utterly relaxed before the onslaught, the corners of his mouth curving upward in disdain.
"How disappointing."
With those words, a tidal wave of magical power unlike anything Link had ever seen surged forth from Voldemort as he flicked his wand. It spread out in the form of a shockwave, instantly blowing away every single attack.
Everyone was stunned speechless at the sight.
Before they could even react, that terrifying tidal wave of magic crashed down from above, transforming into an unstoppable gravitational force that slammed everyone to the ground.
Thud! Thud!…
A string of sickening, muffled cracks echoed from within the fallen crowd, the air filling with the stench of blood, some had been unable to withstand the sudden crushing pressure, their bodies exploding under the force.
Despair spread through the crowd.
Voldemort had completely shattered the fragile courage they had only just managed to summon.
His attack had no special effects, no warning, it wasn't even a spell. It was nothing more than a raw burst of magical power, yet it produced such horrifying results.
How could they possibly fight this battle?
What meaning was there in fighting to the death?
At that moment, a roar filled with anguish and fury suddenly erupted from the front.
To everyone's shock, Link, with the help of his curse energy, had actually forced himself upright against the crushing gravity.
The terrible weight smashed down his hair, shattered the potion vials on his belt, and twisted his entire body into a grotesque posture.
But still, Link stood.
Not only that, but he even managed to raise his wand with difficulty.
From his effort, a small dark-red spark of fire was finally born.
Then, feeding on the air, it grew rapidly, becoming a colossal serpent of fire, tens of meters long, lunging at Voldemort with bared fangs.
"Oh? Now this is a little interesting."
Voldemort spoke with amusement.
With a flick of his wand, and using his open mouth as a channel, he drew forth a bright-red fire serpent of his own.
One light, one dark, the two serpents crashed together.
As they collided, showers of sparks rained down, rapidly swelling into flames that turned the surroundings into a sea of fire.
But there was a difference.
The bright-red flames, after burning and swelling briefly, quickly returned to their serpent's body, while the dark-red flames Link had conjured merely spread uselessly outward.
With each exchange, Voldemort's serpent grew stronger while Link's fire and the surrounding blaze were completely devoured.
"Your control over Fiendfyre is still far too poor. You're wasting enormous amounts of energy in your casting."
Voldemort shook his head with a sigh, while the victorious bright-red serpent slithered back to his side, coiling itself into a knot like a python.
Link said nothing. He simply stood there with difficulty, wand raised, preparing for another attack.
But Voldemort gave him no chance.
With just a light press of his long, thin finger, an even greater pressure descended from above, slamming Link back into the ground.
This time, he was truly beaten.
Clenching his teeth, Link could only lament inwardly.
At the same time, he cursed Dumbledore furiously.
After all, in their original plan, they had accounted for the possibility of Voldemort's successful resurrection.
And in such a case, it was supposed to be Dumbledore who stepped in to oppose him.
But now Voldemort had revived, and where was Dumbledore?
Not only Dumbledore, none of the other professors had arrived either, aside from Snape.
Link could not understand it at all.
Dumbledore had Fawkes the phoenix. Others might be blocked by anti-Apparition wards, but Dumbledore absolutely could not.
Step~ Step~
Voldemort's footsteps echoed crisply on the half-crystallized ground as he strode closer.
As the sound drew nearer, Link stubbornly raised his head to look at him.
"Do you still believe Dumbledore is stronger than me? That he will be the one to win in the end?"
Voldemort asked loudly, his face twisted with triumphant pride.
Link ignored his boasting, staring at him with a blank face.
Though his magic was nearly depleted, he still had the strength for one last strike.
All he could do now was wait for the chance.
Seeing this, Voldemort was not angered. He merely stroked the head of his Fiendfyre serpent and said, "Link, I want you to understand something."
"We are the same kind of people. Dumbledore can't teach you anything. He is too hypocritical. When faced with geniuses like you and me, his instinct is fear, he cannot help but want to lock us in cages!"
"Right now, you are already trapped in a cage woven from his so-called love. And as your kindred, I cannot bear to see you suffer such a pathetic fate."
"So, Link! Even though you rejected me just recently, I am still willing to give you one last chance!"
Voldemort crouched down, locking his scarlet snake-like eyes with Link's, and said, "Submit to me, Link Flamel! Only with me will you be free to unleash your talent. Only with me will you have a brighter future!"
At these words, Link's expression shifted in surprise.
He truly had not expected that, even at this moment, Voldemort was still trying to recruit him.
What surprised him even more was that, seeing his subtle reaction, Voldemort only seemed more excited, suddenly springing to his feet and saying, "No need to rush your answer. I can show you even more. I'm certain that once you see it, you'll give me an answer that pleases me!"
With flowing steps, Voldemort returned to the cauldron's side.
Snape finally let out a breath of relief. When Voldemort had drawn close to Link just now, he had nearly been unable to stop himself from rebelling and fighting Voldemort to the death. Luckily, Voldemort seemed to have changed his mind at the last moment.
Peter Pettigrew's reaction, on the other hand, was far more dramatic.
Seeing Voldemort reborn, he immediately crawled to his master's feet, sobbing as he said, "Master, you promised… you promised me…"
"Hold out your arm."
Voldemort tilted his head back slightly, speaking lazily.
"Oh! Thank you, Master! Thank you…"
Pettigrew instantly perked up, stretching out his bloody, severed stump of an arm.
But to his shock, Voldemort only roared with furious disgust, "Fool! The other arm!"
Pettigrew whimpered again, shrinking back, unwilling to extend it.
This finally enraged Voldemort completely.
He bent down and yanked out Pettigrew's intact arm himself, shoving the sleeve up to expose the dark-red Dark Mark on his skin.
"Now, let us see… Soon, we'll know the answer."
Voldemort murmured, pressing his fingers to the Mark.
In an instant, it writhed as if alive, and Pettigrew screamed in agony, curling up from the searing pain.
Harry too was screaming, though unlike Pettigrew, his pain came not from the Mark, but from the scar on his forehead.
A cruel, triumphant expression spread across Voldemort's face.
Straightening, he lifted his head proudly and spoke into the darkness, "Once they feel it, how many will dare return? And how many will be foolish enough not to?"
His question was soon answered... by a few faint, stifled cries of pain.
At the sound, Voldemort's face showed a hint of surprise. With a flick of his wand, several Death Eaters, including Karkaroff, were yanked from the earth itself by invisible magical force.
They all looked utterly disheveled, yet without exception, they were completely unharmed, only their faces betrayed deep embarrassment.
"Master! You are back, my Master! Your servant is overjoyed beyond words!"
Karkaroff was the first to react, rushing forward in a few stumbling steps and throwing himself at Voldemort's ankles, weeping bitterly.
Voldemort despised such deserters. With a swift kick, he sent Karkaroff flying.
This also froze the other Death Eaters who had been about to rush forward to grovel at his feet.
But even so, they breathed easier.
They could all see that Voldemort seemed disinclined to pursue their betrayal further, otherwise, the curse he had used on Karkaroff would have been the Killing Curse, not just a kick.
Indeed, things unfolded as they expected. Though Voldemort vented his anger by intensifying the burning pain of their Dark Marks and hurling insults at them, he did not inflict any harsher punishment.
And just as Voldemort finished scolding the deserters, rustling sounds rose all around.
From the darkness, wizards began to appear one by one.
All wore hoods, their faces hidden, moving cautiously and slowly as they approached Voldemort.
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