Chapter 142: Battle in the Fire

    A/N: Voldy''s flame color= Yellow/red

    Cyrus'' flame color= Blue

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    "And I don''t hang out with failures."

    "How dare you call me a failure!?"

    Voldemort''s voice was sharp, like a pitiful person who screamed after being stabbed in the sore spot.

    But he quickly calmed down, "I didn''t fail. Don''t just look at the temporary success or failure. Whoever lives longer is the winner."

    "I can guarantee that Dumbledore will die before me. And I will personally send death to him."

    He was full of confidence, and this was not just bragging.

    In his heyday, Voldemort was actually a little behind Dumbledore who had the Elder Wand, otherwise, he would not be so afraid of him.

    But on the other hand, even if Dumbledore had the invincible Elder Wand, he could not completely defeat him.

    And for Voldemort who had the Horcrux, the power he had at that time might not be his end. On this path of magic, he still had the possibility of going further.

    It is said that the weak are afraid of the strong, and in fact, wizards are almost the same.

    If they are really as old as Nicolas Flamel, even if they have huge magical powers, they are just paper tigers. There is no threat at all in a battle of the same level.

    But Cyrus did not intend to join him.

    No matter how strong Voldemort was, it was only a radical force of violence, and everything about him was visible.

    Not to mention, he himself inherited Voldemort''s talent, and was even better.

    Now he had the foundation to learn ancient magic, and he believed that his future would not be inferior to Voldemort.

    But Dumbledore was different. In addition to being strong, what was more terrifying was that he had unparalleled wisdom.

    First of all, Cyrus wanted prosperity and to live life in enjoyment. If Dumbledore, who is holding the British Wizarding world together, dies, there goes his enjoyment filled life as the world is full of corruptness. Dumbledore is managing the good side so Cyrus doesn''t want that hassle.

    Second, Cyrus did not want to be an enemy of him clearly, otherwise, he would not know how he died.

    Seeing that Cyrus did not answer for a long time, Voldemort also understood what he meant.

    He became cold.

    "It seems that our conversation will end unpleasantly."

    "Isn''t that obvious?"

    "I never thought that I was so cowardly when I was in school, and I didn''t dare to face Dumbledore? Was I scared by him?" Voldemort sneered, and his snake-like eyes stared at Cyrus, who had the face of his youth.

    Cyrus felt paralyzed by those eyes, as if a slight electric current was flowing.

    He felt danger.

    "Since you don''t want to, why don''t you give me the secret of ancient magic?"

    Voldemort took a step forward in the fire.

    His powerful momentum made the flames bend like rice fields and wheat fields swept by the wind.

    He finally tore off his disguise and showed a greedy look. His face was still human at this moment, but he looked more like a python that was about to swallow its prey alive.

    "Take it out, Cyrus! Don''t wear out my patience!" He shouted in a low voice.

    "The ancient magic is right in front of you, but you can''t see it." Cyrus whispered, "Just like a Muggle who can''t see the power of magic."

    His words stimulated Voldemort.

    Voldemort himself was worried about the lowly Muggle bloodline in his body.

    That bloodline made him feel ashamed, it was his eternal stain, and it was also his most hurting secret.

    Now Cyrus directly compared him to a Muggle, which made him annoyed.

    To be honest, the magic power in Cyrus''s body at this moment was definitely greater than that of Voldemort who had not yet been resurrected.

    The opponent was only controlling the body of an ordinary dark wizard, but even so, he could fight Cyrus on equal terms with his superb magic knowledge.

    The knowledge Voldemort had learned during his years of traveling after graduating from Hogwarts was immeasurable.

    Anyone who really regarded him as a fool who could only eat big melons would be truly stupid!

    The spells he casually cast were extremely powerful.

    Many of those dark magics were things Cyrus had never seen before, but their horror was even greater than that of the Killing Curse.

    The reason why the Unforgivable Curses were so famous was not because they were extremely powerful, but because they had no counter-curse. In fact, many dark spells were more powerful than the Killing Curse.

    Cyrus''s actual combat experience was far less than Voldemort''s, but fortunately, the fire shield was both a powerful attack and a solid defense.

    Most spells could not penetrate the defense of the Protego Diabolica. Cyrus felt like an artilleryman bombarding in a fortress, without having to worry too much about dodging, and only needed to output with all his strength.

    Of course, Voldemort was not stupid either. He soon realized that the fire released by Cyrus was not an ordinary protective magic.

    "Do you think this will make you untouchable?" he sneered coldly, his wand twisting slightly. He deflected one of Cyrus''s spells with a Shield Charm, then his body jolted as he flung out a spell like lightning!

    No!

    Not just one spell!

    The foremost spell shot out like a black sun, dispersing the flames.

    In Voldemort''s snake-like eyes, he saw Cyrus standing in the center of the flames through the vacuum created by the spell.

    He smiled cruelly, and before the flames could regroup, several more spells burst from the shadow of the previous one! The dark green spells flew towards Cyrus like shadows.

    They passed through the blue fire shield of Cyrus, coming within millimeters of Cyrus.

    Voldemort saw the look of astonishment on Cyrus''s face through the narrowing gaps in the regrouping flames.

    The next moment—

    A violent explosion erupted in the center of the flames!

    Boom! ! !

    The indestructible Protego Diabolica was destroyed from the inside, and the shock wave caused by the explosion shattered the layers of flames!

    The entire secret vault was filled with flame debris, and the sparks swept to every corner of the secret vault like a storm, blowing cracks into the luxuriously carved beams and painted buildings.

    Voldemort stood proudly in the fire.

    "This is my skill!"

    He seemed to be standing in the wilderness, surrounded by a group of blue butterflies, and he looked full of life and a gentle breeze.

    Of course, in fact, the impact of the explosion was scorching, and the blue sparks continued to burn Voldemort''s skin.

    They showed no signs of extinguishing, but instead planned to take root like dandelions.

    Where the fire butterflies fell, the flames rose again.

    The flames were so numbing that even the surroundings were melting.

    The smug expression on Voldemort''s face suddenly disappeared.

    Because he saw the figure standing in the flames.

    Cyrus looked no different from before, only his golden eyes seemed to have become brighter.

    His right hand holding the wand hung at his side, and his left hand stretched forward, with lightning flashing in his palm, holding a dark green object.

    And what he was holding was... one of the dark spells Voldemort had just cast....

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