Chapter 518
BOOM!
The blue tiger bared its fangs, lunging forward with a monstrous roar.
A storm of dark green Killing Curses rained down on Tom like deadly arrows.
The impact sent a deafening rumble across the battlefield as blue and green light collided, creating a chaotic storm of energy.
The sheer force of magic sent dust and debris spiraling into the sky, mixing with the lingering aura of death and destruction.
As the gray haze slowly drifted across the frozen battlefield, the snowflakes that had once fallen gently from the heavens vanished into steam before they could even reach the ground.
The Saints and Death Eaters stood frozen, eyes locked onto the center of the battlefield—where the Dark Lord had been struck from all sides.
Whoooosh! Whoooosh! Whoooosh!
The howling wind gradually pushed the dust aside.
And from within the dispersing fog…
A figure emerged.
A skeleton wreathed in hellfire.
Dark red flames clung to its bones, flickering like cursed embers.
The wand clutched in its bony grip burned with the same infernal fire, sending sparks scattering with every twitch of its fingers.
Even the falling snow could not touch it.
Before a single flake could come within a meter of the flaming skeleton, it evaporated into mist.
The sheer heat of Hellfire was enough to scorch the very air.
Seeing the monstrous figure standing tall, Grindelwald's eyelid twitched involuntarily.
Something was wrong.
Something was deeply wrong.
Without hesitation, he flicked his wand—
Whooosh!
The blue flames of Protego Diabolica roared to life, transforming into a massive flying dragon that soared toward the flaming skeleton that was once Tom Riddle.
Voldemort, standing at a distance, did not move.
Instead, an unfamiliar sensation gripped his heart—
Fear.
Something primal.
Something he could not control.
As though he had encountered a natural predator.
So, he simply stood there, watching as Grindelwald tested the creature that Tom had become.
ROAR!
The blue fire dragon let out a mighty bellow, spreading its claws wide as it prepared to strike.
Click. Click. Click.
Tom—the Hell Skeleton—slowly tilted his head, his wand now floating autonomously behind him.
And then—
BOOM!
Tom raised his burning skeletal hands and caught the blue fire dragon.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
The entire battlefield fell silent.
The massive Protego Diabolica dragon writhed within Tom's grasp, but it could not break free.
It was as if the mighty beast was nothing but a small, struggling prey.
And then—
Zzzzzzt! Zzzzt!
Tom breathed in.
The dragon's blue flames shuddered—then, like streams of fire, they were pulled into Tom's maw.
One bite.
The dragon shrank.
Another bite.
Its light dimmed.
In less than ten seconds, the once-great fire dragon was gone—completely devoured.
Click. Click. Click.
Tom flexed his burning fingers, rolling his shoulders as if savoring the sensation.
His skull tilted back, and for a brief moment, his entire body shuddered.
A sensation surged through him.
Power.
Overwhelming, intoxicating power.
It was addictive.
For the first time in his existence, Tom Riddle felt unstoppable.
Even the rage of being forced into this transformation faded from his thoughts.
Yes—he had resisted this Hellfire form.
Because he knew—the moment he embraced it, Lockhart's control over him would tighten once more.
He had been so close to severing the magical contract that bound him.
So close to freeing himself.
But now—
Forced into a corner by Voldemort and Grindelwald,
He had no choice.
And his efforts to escape Lockhart's grasp had been wasted.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Voldemort, seeing Grindelwald's failed attack, struck without hesitation.
A storm of green light surged forward—
But—
BOOM!
The deadly curses collided with the Hellfire skeleton—
And vanished.
The moment they touched his burning body, the dark red flames expanded outward, swallowing the green light whole.
Not a single trace of Voldemort's attack remained.
Click. Click. Click.
Tom slowly turned, his empty eye sockets locking onto Voldemort.
The blackened scorch marks left by the curses on his body barely mattered.
Then, for the first time, he spoke—
His voice hoarse, eerie, dripping with death.
"Your… soul exudes… a seductive fragrance."
Click. Click. Click.
Without hesitation, Tom rushed toward Voldemort.
His wand—wreathed in Hellfire—floated behind him.
Voldemort flinched.
Even for him—this monstrosity was…
Terrifying.
A flaming skeleton, clad in Hellfire, charging at him?
Nightmare incarnate.
But it wasn't the sight that disturbed him the most.
It was the feeling.
The sheer deathly aura, thick and suffocating, that surged from Tom's very existence.
Voldemort instinctively tried to Apparate.
But—
Whooosh!
The space around him twisted unnaturally.
The Hellfire had already corrupted the surrounding air.
Voldemort barely managed a short jump, appearing only a few feet away.
His nerves tightened.
This wasn't normal.
Immediately, his wand traced a delicate arc in the air.
And then—
Whoosh!
A black-green fire burst into life—
And vanished.
Where Voldemort once stood—
A black-robed Death Eater now trembled in fear.
Voldemort had swapped places.
His true self now stood where the Death Eater had been.
The robed wizard barely had time to react before—
"BOOM!"
The Hell Skeleton loomed over him.
Panic flooded his features.
His legs gave out beneath him.
His voice quivered.
"Ex…pelliarmus!"
A desperate red light shot toward Tom.
But—
Sssshhh!
Tom merely reached out.
The spell fizzled, snuffed out like a dying ember.
As if he had merely pinched a flickering candle flame.
And then—
Tom's left hand shot forward, gripping the Death Eater by the throat.
Lifting him effortlessly into the air.
His hoarse voice echoed across the battlefield.
"Sinner…"
"Look into my eyes."
"And let me judge your sins."
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