Not Found

The term "Fourth Disaster" came from a game Blake played in his previous life. In its later stages, three major natural disasters would devastate the world, but players also introduced their own form of chaos.

Some, bored with the usual mechanics, summoned powerful bosses at will, watching them wreak havoc before stepping in to clean up the mess. The destruction caused by these players was comparable to the final boss itself. Thus, the community jokingly dubbed them the "Fourth Natural Disaster."

Blake found the title fitting. He knew forming a force of his own was inevitable, and he needed a code name to conceal his identity. What better choice than the Fourth Disaster? After all, even he had no idea how much his presence would alter this world.

Old Repp, sharp as ever, immediately understood the implication. "Alright, when you wish to remain anonymous, I'll call you the Fourth Natural Disaster."

Blake nodded. "Otherwise, just call me Blake."

"By the way... Professor Dumbledore asked me to pass along his greetings."

Repp's eyes flickered with recollection. "Albus... I remember now. He visited the year of my accident. But in '02... my mind was muddled. I couldn't recall much." He hesitated before adding, "So when I saw someone approaching, I hid."

Blake raised a brow. "You managed to evade Professor Dumbledore without magic?"

Repp pointed to a sliding door on the ground inside the ruined house. "There used to be a basement beneath that. I had layered it with spells. Even Albus would have struggled to find it without guidance."

A hint of pride colored his voice before he sighed. "But the basement collapsed. You know, if a Traceless Extension Charm isn't maintained, it eventually fails. When it does, the expanded space shrinks abruptly. Otherwise, in this freezing weather, I could've at least sheltered there."

Blake approached the remnants of the sliding door, his eyes widening at the sight of the ancient runes carved onto it. Even he had never seen inscriptions like these.

"Old Repp, you can read ancient runes?"

"Not just read them—I'm proficient," Repp corrected. "I studied ancient runes and another discipline. That subject is criminally underrated."

Blake grinned. "Professor Babbling and I think so too!"

Producing a card-shaped magic scroll, he handed it to Repp. The old man's eyes lit up as he examined it.

"So that's it…" he muttered, his expression shifting between surprise and deep thought. "I tried something similar, but it never worked quite right. The runes either wouldn't preserve or would trigger prematurely. So the key is in the materials? And this extra component… It's not part of any ancient runic system, but it functions like a Muggle bomb fuse, delaying activation."

Repp sighed, still staring at the scroll. A problem he had wrestled with for years now had an answer delivered straight to him. It was an indescribable feeling.

"Did you develop this, or was it Professor Babbling?"

"I did," Blake said. "But Professor Babbling and I share the same philosophy on runes."

Repp blinked in astonishment. He had assumed the scroll was Babbling's work. Even though the directory ensured his loyalty to Blake, it didn't influence his thoughts beyond that.

"Ding! Shock detected!"

"Ding! Congratulations to the host for obtaining a silver treasure chest!"

Blake smirked. Looks like Repp's surprise had just earned him a reward.

Repp shook his head with a wry smile. "Compared to your accomplishments, I feel ashamed. I've studied this for years without a solution. But you—so young—and you've already cracked it."

Blake dismissed the self-deprecation. "You've lost years of valuable time, Repp. If not for that, you would've reached the same conclusion. Your work on that basement door proves it."

Indeed, if not for Tuhart's selfish Obliviate curse, Repp might have revolutionized ancient runes. The curse hadn't just harmed a village—it had hindered the progress of magical academia. It had even slowed the advancement of the wizarding world itself.

Shaking off his frustration, Blake said, "I set up a travel tent outside. It has everything you need. Rest tonight, and once you've recovered, we'll deal with those werewolves tomorrow."

Repp smirked. "Why wait until tomorrow?"

He picked up the wand Blake had given him, giving it an experimental wave. "Hmm… Dragon heartstring. Excellent craftsmanship."

Blake, attuned to wand lore, noticed a subtle shift in the wand's resonance. It had accepted Repp as its true master. A dragon heartstring wand could submit to a strong wielder—even change allegiances entirely.

"This fits your grip well," Blake observed. "But it doesn't look like it came from Ollivander."

"I made it myself," Blake admitted.

Repp's eyes widened. "Ah! You can craft wands too?"

His astonishment deepened. The wand's quality was superior to the one he had originally purchased from Ollivander. This young man was proficient in so many fields—it defied logic.

"Wait here. I'll be back soon." Repp turned toward the door, then called over his shoulder, "Nagini, kind girl, could you warm me another bowl of porridge? I'll have it when I return."

Nagini nodded, watching as Repp strode outside, his posture strong and resolute. Just a short while ago, he had struggled to stand. Now, he was heading out for vengeance.

She turned to Blake, eyes wide. "Your potion is incredible."

Blake chuckled. "It's not just the potion. He has a solid foundation."

His mood was light. Repp's strength had exceeded his expectations. Having such a powerful wizard as an ally—what was there to complain about? Even better, if those listed in his directory grew stronger, he would continue to receive attribute rewards in return.

Nagini, however, remained skeptical. "Are you sure it's okay for him to go alone? Shouldn't we—"

"Relax," Blake reassured her. "Just focus on making that porridge. Actually—forget it. I'll handle it."

Repp returned quicker than expected, sitting down to eat as if nothing had happened. To Nagini, he looked unchanged, as if he had merely gone for a stroll. But Blake noticed the difference immediately. There was a sharpness to him now, like a blade freshly honed.

The next morning, as Nagini packed up the tent, Repp attempted to help—only to fumble so badly that she finally pushed him aside. "Just sit next to Blake. You're only making things worse."

Repp chuckled. "Blake, you should treasure this girl. She's a good one."

He had cleaned himself up overnight, replacing his ragged clothes with fresh black robes. His hair, once wild, was now neatly trimmed, revealing the strong angles of his face. Even in his youth, he must have been a striking man.

Blake also noticed a new necklace around his neck—a werewolf's fang.

"How did you track me down, anyway?" Repp asked, taking out an old pipe and lighting it.

"Armenia is a small country," Blake replied. "It wasn't easy, but Lockhart made it simpler. He stole your story for his book—didn't even bother changing the location."

Blake pulled out a book. On the cover, Lockhart grinned, flashing seven gleaming teeth.

Repp scoffed. "'Wandering with Werewolves'? That's the best title he could come up with?"

Flipping through the pages, he let out a bark of laughter. "I have to admit, the man can write."

Blake smirked. "Maybe we should catch him, break his legs, lock him in a room, and make him write books for us to sell."

Repp exhaled a puff of smoke, grinning. "Now there's an idea…"

=============

Want to read more?

Join my Patreon

patreon.com/Max1mus

Also Please vote for this work with your Powerstones

And don't forget to leave a review