Chapter 194: The Dark Lord's Loss

The sharp words of the first Dark Lord, Grindelwald, cut across Eda's skin like blades, striking straight at her heart. They tore apart the barriers Eda had built for herself, showing her just how laughable her old timid self really was.

When these bloody wounds healed, the scabs that fell away would be her former weakness, her former self-doubt, her former disgrace. The Eda who emerged from this transformation would become a better version of herself — a witch with inner strength to match her power.

This change wasn't about her appearance or some quick fix. It wouldn't happen overnight with the snap of a finger. This shift, born from deep within, would show itself in her daily life, in how she handled problems, and in her attitude toward magic.

In the days that followed at Nurmengard, the more confident Eda smiled more often, her steps grew lighter, and even when she argued with Grindelwald, she had more spirit than before.

Ever since being scolded so harshly, Eda had been waiting to get her revenge and win back her pride — but unfortunately, Grindelwald was sly and cunning and never gave her the chance.

The first Dark Lord mocked Eda from every angle, with no blind spots: if her spellcasting was too slow, he'd say she was "as slow as a turtle."

If she hesitated when casting, he'd say she was "indecisive, soft like a powerless woman."

If she showed resistance toward dark magic, he'd say she "couldn't even control her own power — might as well find a rope and hang herself."

In short, his verdict was always the same: she was nothing.

If Dumbledore's way of guiding Eda was like a gentle spring rain, hoping to change her bit by bit through subtle influence, then Grindelwald's approach was a torrential downpour, drenching Eda to the bone in an instant.

Yet, surprisingly, this almost brutal style was far more effective — it directly jolted the confused Eda awake.

It's not that Dumbledore was worse than Grindelwald when it came to teaching others — it was simply that the two of them had different considerations, so they naturally used two completely different approaches.

Dumbledore was the Headmaster of Hogwarts, the greatest wizard in the magical world. He had far more to worry about: he feared pushing Eda too hard too fast, feared that he might lead her astray, feared she might become a threat to the wizarding world.

But Grindelwald, imprisoned in Nurmengard, had no such scruples. With nothing holding him back, he chose the most direct approach.

As for whether Eda might become addicted to black magic in her pursuit of strength, or whether she might one day threaten the magical world — that was her business, not his.

Whether Eda became the next Dumbledore or the next Grindelwald — what did that matter to an old man locked away?

Grindelwald wasn't even sure if his body would last until that day.

Once he was dead, what did it matter if the world burned? Was Gellert Grindelwald going to climb out of his coffin to stop it?

Life at Nurmengard continued for Eda, and her conversations with Grindelwald gradually increased. Besides his constant nitpicking, Grindelwald would also engage Eda in discussions — they would talk about the wars between wizards and goblins, about Muggle wars, and they even reenacted the First and Second World Wars on a map.

It was in these war simulations that Eda finally found her chance to get revenge.

She didn't hesitate to fire back with mockery: "I heard you trained a wizard army once? What was it — lining them up for a firing squad, or a three-rank volley? Could they hold out under a barrage of artillery fire? Could they stand against an iron tide of tanks?"

"Do you even know what a decapitation strike is? Do you know the three great truths of modern warfare? Do you know what tactical penetration is, what carpet bombing means? Ever heard of last year's Operation Desert Storm?"

Eda's barrage of questions left the once-unrivaled Dark Lord speechless for the first time, giving her her first real victory in their war of words.

Enraged and humiliated, the old Dark Lord furiously kicked Eda out of the top floor of the castle, slamming the door behind her while roaring, "Don't forget — you're a witch, not a Muggle!"

Kicked out, Eda flicked her long hair and cast a disdainful glance at the tightly shut door. Wasn't this just a discussion? Why get so worked up about it?

Having secured her first victory, Eda was in an excellent mood, so she went on another scavenging round through the castle. After Dumbledore's duel with Grindelwald and Grindelwald's imprisonment in Nurmengard, Eda didn't know exactly what the castle had been through — she only knew there was hardly anything valuable left inside.

Those suits of armor that Eda had carefully rearranged were probably the most valuable things in the entire castle.

The villagers at the foot of the mountain had no use for armor — they couldn't exactly wear it to show off some knightly grandeur. So Eda could only gather up things like candlesticks, goblets, copper kettles, or tableware.

She'd trade these non-magical items with the villagers for things like smoked meat and sausages. The villagers could keep these things for themselves or sell them outside for a bit of extra money.

Eda got her meat; the villagers got some money. Neither side lost out — the only one losing out was Grindelwald, living alone at the top of the castle.

While Eda was off bartering in the village, Grindelwald sat on the top floor of the castle, lost in thought. He realized that, with the passage of time, the balance of power between wizards and Muggles had shifted.

At the beginning, wizards held the dominant position — even King Arthur only became the legendary Knight King because of Merlin's aid.

In the Middle Ages, although witch hunts were rampant, wizards were still the stronger side; only weak wizards were persecuted, while the powerful ones still toyed with Muggles at will.

But to protect their weaker kin, wizards had no choice but to hide away and disappear from the Muggles' sight.

It was under this special historical backdrop that the prototype of the International Statute of Secrecy came into being, and it was finally signed into effect in 1689, marking the complete withdrawal of wizards into hiding.

Compared to the ever-advancing Muggles, wizards had come to a standstill — it was almost like turning back the clock of history.

Muggles already possessed the power to destroy the world, while wizards were still indulging in the glories of the past. And this gap would only continue to widen with time.

Grindelwald didn't even dare imagine what things would look like in the end.

If the two sides really went to war, even if wizards managed to win, the cost would be unimaginably high — could the wizarding world bear that cost?

These days, the International Statute of Secrecy had truly become an act to protect wizard survival. Grindelwald felt deeply pained — wizards had squandered far too many chances.

Heartbroken, Grindelwald didn't come downstairs for dinner. He stayed alone upstairs, just like always. Tonight's dinner was abundant — smoked meat, sausages, and even a tankard of beer — but none of it brought Grindelwald any comfort.

Unlike the troubled Grindelwald, Eda was in her little loft, admiring the hazy night. She noticed that the distant mountain she often gazed at had a "scar," as if part of it had been blown away.

At that moment, a knock came at the door. Grindelwald walked in and, like Eda, leaned against the railing, looking out into the distance.

He said, "That mark on the mountain — it was the work of an Obscurial. I think, judging by that strike, he must have been filled with anger, resentment, injustice — all kinds of negative emotions. The power behind that single blow is truly intoxicating."

Eda estimated silently — even if she triggered Reckless and unleashed a double-cast attack, it would still be hard to cause such massive destruction. The power of an Obscurial really was intoxicating.

"If I'm not mistaken, those negative emotions in the Obscurial were guided by you, weren't they?" Eda turned around and started busying herself at the small table. "Want a cup of hot cocoa?"

"You guessed right. I'm quite skilled at manipulating people's hearts. His tragic background destined him to have such intense negative emotions — all I needed to do was give them a slight push, and that outburst came sooner than it otherwise would have."

Grindelwald took the hot cocoa. "Thank you for the cocoa. Do all you British people love sweet things this much?"

"I don't know. I like sweets simply because life is just too bitter." Eda said with a smile.

Grindelwald didn't say anything like 'What do you know of bitterness at your age?' He knew well enough that the sorrow this girl carried wasn't about fleeting romance or trivialities.

Like Credence, she had suffered a miserable childhood — though she was far luckier than Credence in many ways.

As the saying goes: only the one drinking the water knows if it's warm or cold — your suffering is something no one else will ever truly understand.

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