Chapter 553

Profound! Eternal! Detached!

It was beyond comprehension—an existence that governed all, an unimaginable force that surpassed logic itself.

At this moment, Albus Dumbledore stood motionless, utterly stunned. His keen, intelligent eyes were now filled with confusion, shock, horror, and a deep, unsettling disbelief.

It was overwhelming—like a single raindrop standing before an endless ocean. The sheer magnitude of what he had just encountered was impossible to grasp. What kind of world consciousness was this? What vast intelligence loomed over existence itself?

Though the experience had lasted for only a fleeting instant, the impression it left on Dumbledore's mind was indelible. He found himself continuously recalling that moment, struggling to articulate it in words even to himself.

He was not a wizard who had ever delved deeply into the mysteries of fate or destiny. Yet, at this precise moment, he felt an inexplicable harmony with everything around him.

Raising his arm slightly, he marveled as the magic of the world shifted in response. With nothing more than a mere thought, the arcane forces around him fluctuated, bending to his will. He had no doubt that, should he push his intent just a bit further, he could cast spells without the need for incantations, wands, or gestures.

Everything welcomed him. Everything recognized him.

It was more than familiarity.

More than home.

Even more than Hogwarts itself.

No—this was deeper, grander. It was as though he had tapped into some fundamental, omnipresent force—one that connected all things, all knowledge, and all wisdom.

Ideas flooded his mind like a river breaking through a dam. Spells he had never conceived of, theories that had once eluded him, intricate webs of magic that no human had ever documented—all of it surged forth without effort. It was as if he no longer needed to think; the knowledge simply flowed into him, filling him with endless revelations.

This sensation…

It was exhilarating! It was intoxicating!

A strange thought surfaced in his mind.

This is the blessing of the world.

It made no sense, and yet it felt irrefutable.

Dumbledore's heart clenched. It was beyond rational understanding.

This knowledge—this vast, limitless wisdom—was not something he had earned. He was not studying, nor was he uncovering secrets through careful thought and research. No, it was as if an almighty hand had spoon-fed him the knowledge of the universe itself.

It was a gift.

A love so profound, so boundless, that it seemed almost divine.

But why him?

Why was he, of all people, chosen to receive such extraordinary favor?

Dumbledore's breath caught in his throat. He was not prone to arrogance, but he could not deny the truth before him.

This… was terrifying.

The manifestation of the world's favor was different depending on the recipient.

For Voldemort, the favor of the world had taken the form of a blood-abyss worm—an entity that devoured all things and verged on eternal existence.

For Dumbledore, it was something far more insidious.

Infinite wisdom.

A terrifying, all-consuming intellect that could grasp the workings of the cosmos itself.

It suited him perfectly.

In an instant, he could see flaws in the magic he had spent his lifetime studying—gaps and imperfections he had never noticed before. With nothing more than a stray thought, he could correct and refine them, perfecting spells that had once seemed immutable.

But then, something even more profound occurred.

The moment he turned his thoughts toward understanding the essence of world consciousness, it was as if a veil had been lifted.

He understood it.

He understood its purpose, its thoughts, its desires.

He understood what it demanded.

The fundamental principle of world consciousness was simple: perpetuity.

The world must continue to exist, without end, without disruption.

Anything that threatened this fundamental law would be met with absolute resistance.

Dumbledore had no doubt of this truth.

Knowledge he had never possessed before surfaced in his mind, interwoven with what he already knew. His thoughts raced, forming intricate connections, revealing hidden truths.

One by one, possibilities and theories unfolded before him.

Why had past magical civilizations—dragons, goblins, and other mystical beings—died out?

The answer was clear.

They had become too powerful.

They had reached the precipice where their very existence posed a threat to world consciousness.

And so, the world itself had struck them down.

Dumbledore knew this with absolute certainty.

This was not merely a conclusion he had drawn through logic or deduction—this was knowledge given to him. The world had told him this.

And in that instant, Dumbledore understood his purpose.

Find the hidden intruder.

Find the thief.

Destroy it.

Preserve stability.

His thoughts were crystal clear.

For the first time in his life, he felt as though he could see the entire world laid bare before him.

He knew what needed to be done.

Suppress Grindelwald.

Eliminate Lockhart.

Erase all traces of meditation.

Restrict the growth of wizards.

Promote Muggles to replace wizards.

Preserve the environment.

Expand the spiritual ocean further…

Ideas poured into his mind like an unstoppable tide, rapidly forming detailed plans.

At this moment, Albus Dumbledore was no longer merely a wizard.

He was a visionary.

A guardian of the world.

Then—

"Dumbledore, come and help me quickly!"

A voice pierced his trance.

Turan, the King of Goblins, shouted desperately beside him.

"The two of us must suppress Grindelwald together!"

Turan's voice jolted Dumbledore back to reality.

In an instant, cold sweat trickled down his back.

Horrifying.

It was truly horrifying.

The thoughts and desires that had consumed him just now—those were not his own.

He had almost lost himself.

No, he had almost been assimilated.

The world consciousness had not simply given him knowledge.

It had begun to use his mind.

He was no longer thinking as Albus Dumbledore.

He had become a vessel.

An instrument of the world's will.

A puppet.

The more he drew upon this so-called infinite wisdom, the more he surrendered his identity.

Dumbledore's heart pounded as he forcibly severed the connection.

Forget it. Forget all of it.

The longer he dwelled on it, the easier it would be for him to fall under its influence once more.

This was not the world's blessing.

This was not love.

It was a poison.

A slow, insidious poison that seeped into the mind, corrupting thought itself.

Dumbledore's expression hardened. With swift precision, he raised his wand, casting a series of spells to check for abnormalities in his own consciousness.

At the same time, he began sealing away certain memories and fragments of knowledge.

These were viruses.

Information viruses.

Mental viruses.

Dangerous. Deadly.

Meanwhile, Turan was fully occupied, summoning enchanted defenses to hold off Grindelwald's relentless onslaught.

But deep inside, he couldn't help but curse Dumbledore in frustration.

What the hell was he doing?!

He had just witnessed Dumbledore obliterate Voldemort with a single attack, a feat more astonishing than terrifying. It had filled him with confidence—more confidence than fear.

But now?

Dumbledore was standing there, eyes closed, unmoving.

Turan gritted his teeth.

Damn it! What is he doing?

They had to act now.

Suppress Grindelwald. Take back the Magical Congress. Drive the enemy from their land.

Then, and only then, could Dumbledore return to England.

But instead…

He was just standing there.

Turan thought silently to himself, but he dared not voice his thoughts aloud.

Dumbledore's effortless and terrifying method of killing Voldemort had shaken him to his core. The sheer power displayed in that moment had left an imprint on his mind, an unspoken warning. If someone as formidable as Voldemort could be annihilated in an instant, what chance did he—a mere goblin king—stand if he ever became a target?

For that reason, Turan held his tongue.

Though he trusted Dumbledore's character, he had no desire to test the wizard's patience. He knew better than to provoke someone who had just wielded such overwhelming power.

However, Grindelwald's relentless assault left him with little room to think. The spells coming from the dark wizard grew stronger, more intricate, more precise. Each incantation was rare and deadly, and with each passing moment, Grindelwald's excitement only seemed to heighten. The more he fought, the more ferocious his attacks became.

Turan was beginning to struggle.

At this moment, it was clear—among the four strongest combatants present, the balance of power was shifting.

Voldemort had once enjoyed the most generous favor of the world, an extraordinary blessing that had granted him terrifying strength.

Then there was Grindelwald, who had cunningly deceived the world consciousness, drawing its attention in subtle ways. Though his favor was not as pronounced as Voldemort's, it had still provided him with considerable benefits.

And now, there was Dumbledore—who had just received the favor of the world in a way that surpassed them all.

As a legendary wizard, a symbol of justice, and the greatest champion of order and stability, Dumbledore had dedicated his life to preserving peace. When the world consciousness finally turned its attention to him, it was as if it had found its perfect candidate—the ideal guardian.

Without hesitation, the world's favor rained down upon him, far surpassing anything Voldemort had ever received.

After all, why would the world continue favoring someone like Voldemort, a repeated failure who had met his demise multiple times, when it could empower someone far more capable?

Previously, Dumbledore had been overlooked, his fate entangled too deeply with Voldemort and Lockhart. But now that the world had recognized his true potential, it was clear where its resources should be invested.

And then, there was Turan.

The only one among them who had yet to receive even a sliver of the world's favor.

He had been completely ignored.

Without divine intervention, without supernatural aid, he was at an undeniable disadvantage.

Turan had reached his limit.

In his desperation, he had called out to Dumbledore, and though the old wizard seemed to acknowledge him for a moment, he had soon fallen back into deep contemplation, as if checking himself rather than engaging in the battle.

What is he doing?!

Turan cursed internally. He had hoped for immediate action, yet Dumbledore seemed preoccupied, lost in his own mind.

A dark thought crept into his consciousness.

Was Dumbledore planning to use him? To let him weaken Grindelwald first before stepping in to claim the victory?

His frustration boiled over. He could no longer afford to wait.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, let's join forces!" he suddenly shouted, his voice echoing through the battlefield.

"Many Aurors and goblins have already died!"

His words carried across the battlefield, reaching the ears of every wizard and goblin present.

Dumbledore heard it.

Grindelwald heard it.

Everyone heard it.

Dumbledore, who had seemed lost in thought, finally stirred. He frowned slightly but made no delay in responding. With a calm yet deliberate motion, he ascended into the air, drifting down next to Turan.

The tension in the air was palpable.

Grindelwald, who had momentarily ceased his onslaught, regarded Dumbledore with keen interest. His piercing gaze locked onto his old rival, eyes filled with curiosity.

"Albus," Grindelwald spoke at last, his voice laced with intrigue, "how do you feel?"

His expression was unreadable, yet it was clear that something had caught his attention.

Just moments ago, he had sensed an overwhelming force surrounding Dumbledore—a terrifying power, something beyond even his comprehension.

He had received the world's favor before, but compared to what had just descended upon Dumbledore, it was insignificant. A mere fraction. Not even one percent of what Dumbledore had gained.

It was enough to make Grindelwald question everything.

Turan, standing beside them, felt uneasy. He had been so focused on holding off Grindelwald's attacks that he had not paid close attention to Dumbledore's transformation.

Now, seeing the way Grindelwald regarded the older wizard, his unease deepened.

Dumbledore did not answer immediately.

He seemed to be contemplating his response, choosing his words carefully.

Then, at last, he spoke.

"The feeling… it is vast, majestic, mysterious…" He paused, his voice thoughtful. "Beyond imagination. Unstoppable. Invincible."

The weight of his words lingered in the air.

To be aware of world consciousness itself—this was something unheard of in history.

It was very possible that Dumbledore was the first in all of existence to experience it so clearly.

"However," he continued, his tone shifting slightly, "it also feels… anxious. Restless. A little angry, even. And… perhaps, a little afraid."

A flicker of uncertainty crossed his features. "I am not sure. But for a brief moment, I could sense something—something small, yet unmistakable."

The battlefield fell into an eerie silence.

Grindelwald's expression shifted. Surprise. Interest. And perhaps, the faintest trace of amusement.

"Really?" he mused, his tone slow and deliberate. "You mean to tell me that such an existence—something so grand and omnipotent—could feel fear?"

Grindelwald chuckled softly, shaking his head.

"What, then, could possibly frighten something like that?" he asked, tilting his head. "What could make a force as vast as world consciousness feel anxious?"

He paused, then added with a knowing smirk, "Surely, not Lockhart?"

His voice carried a hint of mockery, yet beneath it, there was something else. A growing realization.

Turan, still standing beside them, watched the exchange closely.

The two of them—Dumbledore and Grindelwald—were discussing matters that seemed far beyond his understanding. It was as if he were no longer even present.

A creeping unease coiled in his gut.

Instinctively, he began to take a step back.

Slowly, subtly, as if to remove himself from whatever conversation was unfolding between these two titans.

Then—

He felt two pairs of eyes land on him.

Grindelwald's half-smiling voice cut through the air like a blade.

"Your Excellency Turan," he said with a teasing lilt, "it is truly an honor to meet you."

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Marvel x Star Wars: Avengers in the Clone Wars

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