Until they were burned down to carbon atoms, they couldn't react, why four Fire Dragons would rush out simultaneously from the house in front—
Not even repeating in species—Norwegian Ridgeback, Antipodean Opaleye, Hungarian Horntail, Ukrainian Ironbelly... The deafening roars from these Fire Dragons together frightened the poachers out of their wits. The wave of hot air carrying sulfur and flames scattered the poachers who had just formed their ranks.
The ones at the front didn't even have time to scream; they had just climbed up when the red tide rolled over, leaving only charred human-shaped imprints on the stone bricks.
The lucky ones standing at the back, who responded slightly quicker, realized they couldn't dodge and tried to counter with the Iron Armor Spell, but the hastily formed Magic Barrier was as fragile as a freshly laid eggshell against the dragons' wrath, shattering into dust with every muffled sound. The figures wrapped in flames tried to escape, but were picked off one by one by spells that followed closely.
"Newt, save the Fire Dragons—"
Upon hearing this, Newt, who was hugging Lina's neck, nodded and then patted the side of the Ukrainian Ironbelly. The latter raised its head, nodded, and a man and dragon directly charged out of the tunnel, diving downward below—
"Kakarong—get along well with Mr. Weasley, you guys handle those people outside."
William turned to the other side, using words to calm the anxious Hungarian Horntail, which seemed agitated as someone was mounted on its neck. Upon hearing this, Kakarong, using the comet-like tail end, hammered the ground to show understanding. Before Charlie could reply, it too flapped its wings and rushed out of the tunnel.
"Then, we—"
William patted Norbert's side neck, whispered, "Clear the field, a drumstick for you at dinner."
"Roar—!!!"
The now adult Norwegian Ridgeback roared skyward, its body growing larger—whether due to excitement from the imminent slaughter or the joy of receiving extra drumsticks for dinner, Norbert ran a bit before taking off with William, leaving behind only...
"Roar?"
The temporarily enlisted Antipodean Opaleye tilted its shiny glowing head, a hint of confusion in its gem-like eyes—
What about me? I haven't boarded yet?
...
The air reeked of sulfur mingled with the stench of burnt flesh, so thick it couldn't dissipate. Terrified screams and the crash of falling bricks sounded alternately. William broke through the last wall in front of him with a charm, the blinding sunlight pierced through the dust, bringing long-missed fresh air mixed with the smell of blood.
Outside the cave entrance, hundreds of poachers had formed ranks like trained hyena packs, twisted expressions on their faces—be it fear or ferocity, nobody backed down.
"Clang—"
A man in heavy armor stepped out from the crowd—knight with a magic wand, a seemingly bizarre combination—but when faced with furious Fire Dragons, the pairing seemed somewhat normal, "Die, demon!"
The man roared angrily—his emotions long uncontrolled, William had bloodied this camp of nearly ten thousand poachers within half an hour. Now in all of Europe, only a few scattered teams remained, along with those behind him.
"Seems you're in charge."
William sighed wearily, after all, opening Unparalleled mode would exhaust even an Ironman. But anyway, the blue in William's eyes flickered slightly—money had paid off, finally someone to "gather" intel.
Why is it every time he plans to sneak, lurk, assassinate... it always ends like this?
Was he cursed, or is it a talent?
The heavy-armored Wizard said no more, he simply wielded his magic wand— thus the poachers' encirclement began to move. The lights from charms twinkled continuously; Stunning Spells, Diffindo, Disarming Spell were few among them, while a storm-like green lightning bore down like a rainstorm, gathering into a web of death, enveloping the cave's dragon and man.
"Protego Maxima!"
A massive dark blue shield spread out, like an iron wall blocking all charms outside, countless streams flowing on the shield's surface, blocking all Killing Curses entirely.
"Boom!"
An explosive wave expanded from the shield's center, shattering the protective spells constructed by the front-row poachers on contact. Energy turbulence fiercely flung dozens closest to it, Norbert, without hesitation, flapped its wings, wrapped in gale, stormed into the crowd like a "Reincarnated Gods" bulldozer, tearing a hole through them.
This was the moment William was waiting for.
He jumped off the dragon's back, his body spinning lightly in mid-air as if losing weight, his wide black robe fluttering in the gale. No need for intricate chants or powerful swings, the magic wand seemed to tilt ever so slightly under his fingertips.
But in the next moment, frost spread like an epidemic among the crowd, deep blue ice instantly covered the bodies of over ten people on his left. On the right, the earth exploded like a bomb, and the upturned poachers fell like cannonballs onto the chests of those behind, like the light of the God of Death, the green glow forming an unbroken sheet among the crowd—
Then, William landed lightly, standing right beside Norbert's slightly paused forepaw. He shrugged his arm, "Crush them." Saying this, he pulled out a fluffy Niffler from his pocket and tossed it onto the ground—
Normally, now would be the time when the less observant come forward to taunt, followed by a face-slapping—however, the surrounded poachers were solely focused on staying away from the mysterious black mass, nobody dared step forward to speak—besides, Kabuda had no intention of adhering to routine or procedure.
With a blue light flickering, Kabuda's figure began to expand rapidly, a nearly ten-meter-tall "furball" pressing down on the crowd with a destructive force.
"Furnace Potion! Use the Furnace Potion!"
A sharp, hoarse, and dull voice sounded amidst the chaos, blowing the horn to descend into hell.
The poachers lost another quarter of their number, but the remaining desperados' fear deepened yet they still didn't retreat. They howled as they pulled out rough glass bottles filled with reddish-brown viscous liquid from their waist pouches. They opened the stoppers without hesitation and then tilted their heads to gulp down.
Then, from the crowd began to ring out devil-like howls, the effects seemingly instant.
The pupils of those who took the potion instantly filled with reddish-brown, twisted green veins wriggling crazily like worms beneath their skin, swelling.
Their muscles swelled wildly like inflating balloons, and the toothpick... no, magic wand was snapped and tossed aside, "Those Siberian guys would definitely love this." Watching the demonic dances before him, William couldn't help thinking of the "Viking Warrior" in the previous Eight-Team Tournament.