Chapter 233: Dracula
Rumors that Phineas had deployed troops to encircle a forest in France quickly swept through the European wizarding world.
When the heads of various pure-blood families caught wind of this, many responded with fury.
"This madman!"
Indeed, in their eyes, Phineas was unhinged. Just because he had once been kidnapped by vampires, he had now all but eradicated an entire vampire lineage. What else could that be but madness?
At the time, Phineas had no idea what the pure-blood circles were saying about him. Not that he would've cared even if he had—he had never placed much value in their opinions.
What baffled him most was that these pure-blood wizards seemed utterly uninterested in cultivating loyal subordinates or expanding their influence. They relied solely on lineage, prestige, and Galleons—as if the entire magical world had quietly agreed that blood purity alone entitled one to authority.
Once Phineas grasped this reality, he lost all interest in contending with such families. He let them be—families like the Richies, the Lestranges, and the Blacks. Though, he did pay particular attention to the Black family. They had produced many legendary wizards. He refused to believe other families had none.
While troops were useful in many cases, they were powerless before a truly legendary wizard.
Back to the present—Phineas, alongside Lisa and his army of werewolf wizards, had surrounded a castle deep in the forest. This structure was believed to be the stronghold of the vampire reformists. With practiced precision, they established a magical barrier around the perimeter, blocking any apparation and preventing escape.
The activation of the barrier signaled the beginning of battle.
Phineas held his wand in his right hand. In his left, he gripped the Soulstone—yet to be forged into a wand. He raised his wand toward the castle. Behind him, Lisa and the rest of his forces did the same, awaiting his signal.
"Incendio Maxima!"
A roaring flame burst from the tip of his wand, streaking toward the castle.
"Incendio Maxima!" echoed dozens of voices behind him.
Balls of fire surged across the sky, painting the forest in searing orange. The heat distorted the air, veiling everything in a shimmering haze.
And this was only the beginning.
Phineas lifted the Soulstone high, channeling his magical energy through the wand. Magic poured out like a flood, merging with the airborne fireballs. Under his control, the flames began to converge—twisting, stretching, folding—until they coalesced into a massive wall of fire.
Guided by shaping magic, the curtain of flame transformed.
What had once been a sheet of fire gradually took the form of an enormous phoenix, wings outstretched, its body sculpted entirely from blazing flames. Sparks rained down from the sky, igniting the surrounding woods.
Yet Lisa and the werewolf wizards made no effort to extinguish the fire. Instead, they conjured gusts of wind, fanning the flames toward the castle and setting it alight.
As the flaming phoenix completed its transformation, the Soulstone in Phineas's hand began to glow faintly. The spell reached its peak—he had imbued the fireborn creature with intelligence. Thanks to the nature of its flames, the phoenix could regenerate from its ashes. Unless every trace of flame was extinguished, it could not be destroyed.
With a piercing cry, the fire phoenix dove toward the castle.
The inferno crashed into the already-burning structure, triggering a massive explosion. The pressure, smoke, and ash ballooned upward into a towering mushroom cloud.
This was the signal. The werewolf wizards charged forward, wands raised, rushing into battle.
To the vampires inside the castle, the attack was sudden—and merciless.
It was daytime, and most of them were asleep, vulnerable. The searing heat and blinding flames jolted some awake. As they scrambled to respond, they found themselves completely surrounded.
Their first instinct was to apparate and flee.
But Phineas had anticipated this. His barrier didn't just block apparation—it also suppressed the magic of house-elves and other magical beings. Puff and the others had designed it specifically to counter non-wizard magic.
Even teleportation circles were weakened by the runes embedded in the barrier.
The vampires were trapped.
Panic rippled through them as they realized they had no choice but to fight their way out. But just as they began to organize a counterattack, the flaming phoenix struck.
The impact reduced parts of the castle to rubble. Lesser vampires were incinerated instantly. Even high-ranking vampires, despite their regenerative powers, were gravely wounded and unable to fight.
As chaos reigned, the werewolf wizards launched their assault.
Green and red spells crisscrossed the shattered castle grounds. Lisa spotted two curses streaking toward Phineas and quickly shoved him down, shielding him from harm.
To Lisa, nothing mattered more than his safety—even if every werewolf wizard perished.
Protected, Phineas fired stunning spells with ruthless precision, striking down vampires missed by the others. His support dramatically reduced the pressure on his forces.
"Phineas Black! Damn you!"
A voice bellowed from the smoldering ruins.
Phineas looked toward the source.
A tall man stood amidst the rubble, untouched by ash or flame. He was draped in regal clothing, pristine and otherworldly, cradling the corpse of a female vampire who bore a striking resemblance to him.
The man's anguished wail shook the battlefield.
Lisa's face paled the moment she saw him. Phineas noticed immediately and turned to her.
"Who is he?" he asked sharply.
Lisa replied gravely, "His name is unknown to most. But those who do know call him… Dracula."
Phineas's pupils constricted.
"That Dracula?" he asked tensely.
Lisa shook her head. "No, not the Dracula. But…"
She hesitated.
"He has a direct bloodline connection to the original—he's not just a descendant by transformation."
Phineas was stunned.
A natural-born vampire ancestor?
In the Elder Council's records, every living ancestor had been made through blood transformation—not one was born.
Until now.
But there was no time to reflect.
This Dracula had launched himself into the fight, tearing through the werewolf wizards with terrifying speed and strength. He wasn't even casting spells—he simply moved like a blur, rending bodies apart with his bare hands.
Soon, he began grabbing broken bricks, burning beams, chunks of stone—anything—and wielded them as deadly weapons. In his hands, even debris became instruments of death.
Lisa grabbed Phineas again.
"Master, we've lost. If he's here, we cannot win. We must retreat."
But Phineas refused.
These werewolf wizards were his. Not just soldiers, but comrades he had recruited and trained over a decade. They were loyal to him, not to the Black family, and he could not abandon them.
He knew he had made a grave mistake—he had grown complacent, thinking the vampire reformists were weak. Now, a legendary foe had appeared—and his usual tactics, even his relic inheritance from the founders, would be powerless.
But he wouldn't turn away.
He tore himself free from Lisa's grip and sprinted toward Dracula.
"Master—no!" Lisa cried, chasing after him.
But Phineas had already come face-to-face with the vampire lord.
"Phineas Black," Dracula growled, voice laced with fury. "You truly deserve to die."
Phineas tightened his grip on his wand and smirked. "Let me guess. I killed someone important to you? Then good. The moment you crossed me, this outcome was inevitable."
Dracula wasn't baited by the insult. He stepped closer, eyes burning.
"When I heard you sought revenge, I sacrificed some lesser kin to pacify your anger. Even when you destroyed our outposts, I felt nothing."