Erwin couldn't contain his grin. "Brilliant—this is brilliant!"
He slipped off his robes and gave the Ever-Changing Suit a quick shake, even though it never gathered dust. Old habits died hard. Then he donned it again, feeling the fabric shift seamlessly to match his style. What a stroke of luck. The forging set had 499 uses left, enough to equip the Cavendish family's inner circle with enchanted armor. Without a way to awaken magic in Muggles yet, these artifacts would be his edge in conquering the wizarding world.
Erwin wasted no time. He Floo-called Old Tom, instructing him to procure 499 firearms and commission matching robes from a discreet tailor. Suits stuck out like a sore thumb in magical society—robes blended right in. The family had galleons to spare, but Erwin wasn't one to squander them.
Old Tom paused, brow furrowed at the odd request, but he nodded and set to work without question.
With that sorted, Erwin turned to the real fun: upgrades. He pulled up his personal panel, eyes scanning his talents.
Transfiguration Talent: 6/10
Common Spells Talent: 6/10
Dark Arts Talent: 10/10
Potions Mastery Talent: 7/10
Ancient Magic Talent: ?/10 (Unlocked; requires special ritual)
Remaining: Common Talent Points x26, Advanced Talent Points x11
Only eleven points shy of perfection across the board. Erwin smirked. "System, max them all out. No half-measures."
Instantly, his talents hit 10/10 each, burning through eleven common points. Uniform and flawless—a perfectionist's dream.
But those eleven advanced points nagged at him. Spread them evenly? Before he could decide, the System chimed.
[Recommendation: Elevate one talent to 20 points for a stage reward.]
Erwin blinked. "Stage reward?"
[Affirmative. Rewards unlock at 20, 50, and 100 points per talent.]
Intrigued, Erwin dumped all ten into Dark Arts. Not because he craved the shadows—he just finished what he started. Most of his arsenal leaned that way anyway, boosting his firepower without apology. Pure pragmatism, nothing sinister.
The moment the points landed, his Pendragon blood surged like liquid fire. His eyes flashed crimson, a feral hunger clawing at his mind. He clamped down with his Metamorphmagus ability, wrestling the bloodlust back under control.
So that's where the Dark Arts affinity came from—the lingering echo of Morgan le Fay in his veins. Her influence ran deep.
[Dark Arts Talent advanced to Stage 2. Reward: All Dark Arts spells upgraded to Level 5!]
Erwin's jaw dropped. He stared at his panel as curses, hexes, and forbidden incantations all hit max proficiency. Testing it, he jabbed a finger at the enchanted armor across the room. A silent, wandless Killing Curse erupted in a streak of green light, hurling the figure backward in a shower of sparks.
The rush was intoxicating. No incantation, no flick of the wrist—just death on demand. No wonder Voldemort favored it. Who wouldn't?
Satisfied, Erwin pocketed the last advanced point for later. Ten across the board would do for now. He'd save up another ten and chase the next stage reward, comparing perks. Common Spells at 20 might max out every charm and jinx, turning him into a true Charms Master—silent and wandless across the spectrum. Tempting, but he'd decide once he had options.
Next: spell proficiency. Ninety thousand points burned in his reserves—the last of his stockpile. Choices were slim: only near-max spells qualified. Expelliarmus needed 92,000 to hit Level 5, thanks to endless practice ("Not you again, Harry?"). Apparition was 50,000 away, honed by constant travel. Occlumency lagged at 83,000, a grudging nod to Dumbledore's relentless probes.
That old fox deserved a hex or two. Legilimency defense was Occlumency's sole perk—proof the Headmaster had been rifling through Erwin's thoughts far too often.
Erwin weighed it. One upgrade card and 90,000 points meant two max-outs. Apparition could wait; he hated walking, and practice filled the gap quickly. With talents peaked, gains came faster anyway.
He poured proficiency into Occlumency, sealing his mind like Fort Knox. Then the card went to Sectumsempra—pushing it to Level 5. A invisible barrier snapped into place in his skull, thick and unyielding. Relief washed over him. Nurmengard loomed soon, and Grindelwald's Legilimency was brutal, even if less subtle than Dumbledore's. No more wand-tip prods to the temple; this was ironclad.
All set, Erwin eyed his inventory for the grand finale: item upgrade cards, talent upgrades, and a fusion card. Today's upgrades would redefine his edge.
...
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