Chapter 124: There is always a first time for everything

The four people led by Isaac had come to seek revenge on Glover Cecil. This matter had nothing to do with Eda—she could have stayed out of it entirely. There was no reason for her to risk her life over a vendetta that wasn't hers. 

However, back at the cemetery, when they ambushed Cecil, the three dangerous spells had also encompassed Eda. If she hadn't reacted quickly, she might have been killed right then and there. 

And just now, Isaac had arrogantly declared her fate, saying something about her "bad luck" as if pronouncing her death sentence.

Who did he think he was? Did he really believe that just because he said she would die, she would obediently drop dead for him? 

Impossible.

Not a chance.

Even if she couldn't win, she would at least take a bite out of her opponent before going down. And besides, the fight hadn't even started yet—who would end up lying on the ground, and who would remain standing, was still unknown. 

Eda didn't rush to make the first move. Right now, she was only half involved in this battle. If the enemy attacked her first, then no matter how she retaliated, it wouldn't be excessive. 

She wasn't sure if the wizarding world had any concept of self-defense, but regardless, she hadn't been the one to strike first. No matter where this case was argued, she would be in the right. 

Isaac, the leader of the four, was the first to act. His wand shot out a streak of red light, aiming directly at Cecil.

At the same time, the stout man and the lanky man also attacked Cecil, leaving Eda to the only woman among them. 

Cecil, true to his reputation as someone who had once exchanged blows with Dumbledore, was not so easily defeated. Even though he was now a fallen tiger, he wasn't some helpless house cat that just anyone could bully. 

He wielded his wand with skill, casting spell after spell in rapid succession. Even while fighting one against three, he still held the upper hand.

Eda dodged to the side as a beam of green light shot toward her. The woman named Joan had attacked—straight away using the Killing Curse, going straight for the kill. The curse was swift and decisive; those hit by it would die instantly, without suffering.

In a way, one could even say Joan was being merciful. 

Well, fuck that mearcy!

She had clearly underestimated the girl in front of her. 

Eda's body shifted two steps to the side, and the curse narrowly missed her. Without hesitation, she retaliated with a Stupefy followed by a Confringo, aiming directly at Joan.

This was only the second time Eda had formally dueled a human wizard. The thrill of the fight far outweighed any bloodlust, so she still exercised restraint. The system had helped her master many powerful Dark Arts, yet she hadn't used a single one. Instead, she relied on her most familiar spells.

Joan, of course, wasn't some weakling; anyone seeking revenge on Cecil had to have some skill. She swiftly cast a Shield Charm, blocking both of Eda's spells. She was just about to counterattack when she realized that the little girl in front of her was unleashing spells at her like a relentless tide, leaving her no opportunity to strike back.

The battlefield had been deliberately divided by Cecil. A roaring black fire, two men high, surrounded him and three other men, sealing them together in a fight to the death.

Beyond the black flames, Eda and Joan engaged in their own battle. However, things weren't going as Isaac had expected. Joan was completely overwhelmed, unable to finish the fight quickly or go help the others deal with Cecil.

Eda had Joan completely on the defensive, yet she hadn't been able to finish her off in a short amount of time. It wasn't that she lacked the means to do so—after all, she knew the Killing Curse just as well.

It wasn't that Eda had some saintly compassion. Killing a person wasn't the same as killing a chicken, but once you closed your eyes, the difference wasn't so stark.

What worried her more was the possibility of enjoying the thrill of killing—of becoming someone who saw human lives as mere blades of grass. 

A sharpened blade naturally invites the desire to kill. Eda might not wield a blade, but her wand was far more dangerous than any knife. 

Neither Eda nor Joan knew what was happening inside the black flames. Aside from the occasional clash of spells and explosions, they could hear nothing from within. 

Eda was starting to feel anxious. If Cecil's body couldn't hold out any longer, the one being surrounded and attacked next would be her. She needed to finish off Joan quickly and go help him. 

Joan was even more desperate—because she couldn't defeat Eda. If she couldn't even handle a schoolgirl who hadn't graduated yet, what was the point of talking about revenge? 

The black flames were weakening.

Their height, once towering over two men, had now shrunk to barely above a single person's height. Eda knew she couldn't drag this out any longer—Cecil might not last much longer. 

Summoning her magic, Eda raised her wand, and from its tip, flames burst forth. The moment they left her wand, they took the shape of a massive lion. The blazing lion charged at Joan, leaving scorched black marks wherever its paws touched the ground. 

"Ugh!"

With the fiery lion pouncing toward her, Joan had no choice but to focus all her efforts on fending it off, desperate to keep from being consumed by the flames. 

But she never noticed the brilliant red light trailing behind the lion. 

"Ahh!"

The moment she managed to dispel the burning lion, the red light struck her square in the chest. 

The spell's force was overwhelming, sending Joan's body hurtling backward. She crashed into a massive boulder behind her—shattering it to pieces.

After hitting the ground, Joan coughed up a mouthful of blood, staining the front of her robes a deep red. She lay limp on the ground, her consciousness fading. The last thing she heard was the sound of footsteps approaching. 

"Haah.. Haah.. I won, right?"

Eda carefully stepped toward the collapsed Joan, wary of any last-ditch counterattack. But unlike the trial puppets she had faced before, Joan didn't suddenly spring back to life for a final strike. She remained motionless on the ground, barely breathing—clearly on the brink of death. 

Just to be sure, Eda lifted her foot and stomped down, snapping Joan's fallen wand in two. Only after watching her take her final breath did she turn toward the dying black flames. 

Before she could take another step, the black flames suddenly extinguished, revealing the four figures inside. 

Glover Cecil, his face deathly pale, was gasping for breath in ragged heaves. He was clearly at his limit. His mouth and nose were smeared with blood—but strangely, the blood was black. 

Among the three avengers, the stout man's left arm had been completely severed. His face was even more ghastly than Cecil's, with thick beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.

Their leader, Isaac, had sustained some injuries as well, but they weren't severe enough to hinder his movement or spellcasting.

The lanky man, on the other hand, had gotten off the lightest, bearing only a few shallow wounds—nothing that damaged muscle or bone. 

As they saw Eda approaching, each of the four displayed a different reaction. 

Cecil, who always seemed indifferent to whether Eda lived or died, suddenly burst into loud, unrestrained laughter. His mirth was wild and carefree, as if the three opponents before him were nothing more than a joke. 

He had no way of knowing how far Eda would climb in the future. 

But he had just witnessed her first step.

The moment Isaac saw Eda, he immediately ran toward the fallen woman, Joan. Their relationship seemed to be more than ordinary—within moments, his anguished wailing echoed through the air. 

The stout man kept his head down, trying to tend to his injuries, while the lanky man simply smiled—a strange, eerie grin. His eyes locked onto Eda with unsettling intensity, like a child who had just found his favorite new toy. The way he stared made her skin crawl. 

From the moment Eda had met Cecil today up until now, she hadn't seen him take his usual potion even once. That potion greatly drained the drinker's magical energy, and when it completely wrung them dry, death would follow soon after. 

Cecil had shown up in Little Whinging for no apparent reason, seeking her out. Then, almost immediately, four people arrived to take their revenge on him.

It was as if he had anticipated everything that was about to happen, which explained why he hadn't taken the potion—he had been saving his strength for the avengers who came after him. 

This asshole!

And there was no doubt in Eda's mind that Cecil had intentionally dragged her into this mess. Otherwise, he could have gone anywhere—so why the cemetery of all places? 

If this had nothing to do with Cecil, Eda might as well change her last name. 

Her gaze shifted to the lanky man. She despised the way he was grinning at her, his expression full of twisted amusement. 

Especially because he dared to look at her like that. 

She had already killed Joan. One person or two—it made no difference. 

The moment she got the chance, she would personally cut down this disgusting bastard.

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