basilisk(chapter 160)

Chapter 160.

"Rude," the voice giggled from the far side of the room. The witch doctor moved — fast. A streak of black and red, he closed the distance between them in a blink, his bone dagger flashing as it slashed through the air. The blade bit into the shadow's arm — and with a hiss of pain, the creature's black flesh bled. "Ohhh," the shadow cooed, eyes narrowing. "You are dangerous."

The shadow retaliated in an instant, his black sword materializing from the air. It cut through the air faster than the eye could track — and where it passed, reality itself seemed to split. The witch doctor twisted, narrowly avoiding the strike. The wall behind him didn't fare so well — a clean, gaping slash opened through it, dust and splinters raining down.

They fought in a blur. The shadow flickered through the room, slipping into the darkness and striking from impossible angles. But Grey's reflexes were inhuman — enhanced far beyond mortal limits. His dagger met the black sword again and again, each strike sending out sparks of clashing magic. When the shadow reappeared to attack, Grey was already moving, throwing potions with precision that forced the creature on the defensive.

The fight spilled downward — into the basement of the pub. The air grew colder, the light dimmer — and then Grey stopped. Because he was no longer facing one enemy. Six identical figures stepped forward from the shadows, each one holding that same reality-cutting black sword. Their eyes glimmered with cruel delight. "Well, now," one of them said. "This should be fun."

They attacked as one. The basement exploded into chaos. The witch doctor moved like a predator — weaving, slashing, destroying. A flick of his wrist sent a vial crashing against the stone floor, and flames erupted in a spiraling inferno. Two of the shadow figures screamed as the enchanted fire clung to them, burning without consuming — their own dark forms betraying them.

Another shadow lunged, sword cutting downward — but the witch doctor was faster. He sidestepped and drove his dagger upward, piercing through the creature's throat. Black ichor spilled, and the body collapsed into mist. They tried to overwhelm him — but Grey Snape was relentless. A flash of red light erupted from his wand — "Confringo!" — and the explosion hurled three more of them backward. Before they could rise, he was already there, his bone dagger cutting deep, ending them one by one.

But the last two were faster — more cautious. They flanked him, their swords striking in perfect tandem. The witch doctor blocked one, dodged the other — but the second blade caught his side, carving deep. Blood sprayed. But Grey didn't falter. His hand dipped into his coat — and he drank.The wound closed instantly. And his rage burned brighter. With a surge of speed, he disarmed one of the remaining shadows — his dagger severing the creature's wrist in a single, brutal strike. The shadow shrieked — and Grey ended it with a slash across the throat.

The last one tried to retreat into the darkness. But the witch doctor was done playing. He flicked a vial — and this one burst in a flash of silver light. The shadow's body seized as the anti-ethereal potion forced it into physical form — and Grey was already there, his hand closing around the figure's throat. "No more games," he whispered — and crushed the creature's windpipe. The body fell limp, dissolving into nothing.The basement was silent once more. Blood and ash stained the stone floor. And the witch doctor stood alone — waiting. Because he knew this wasn't over.

-scene change-

The cavern stretched deep beneath the earth — a vast, twisted labyrinth of stone and shadow. The air was thick with the scent of alchemy — burnt herbs, caustic potions, and the coppery tang of blood. Crystals jutted from the walls, casting a dim, eerie glow over the sprawling laboratory. Cages lined the cavern, each holding something unnatural: beasts twisted by experimentation, half-formed hybrids, and even humans — the unlucky members of the Order of Merlin. At the heart of it all stood Grey Snape.

He wore a pristine lab coat, though streaks of dark stains marred its surface. His face was calm, his sharp, calculating eyes fixed on the potion simmering before him. His gloved hands moved with steady precision as he added a crushed, glowing powder to the cauldron — and the potion hissed, turning a deep, molten black. Behind him, a man screamed — a high, broken wail of pain — but Grey didn't flinch. He never looked back. The Order of Merlin didn't count as human in his eyes. They were monsters who had taken his family from him, and for that, they deserved no mercy. They were subjects — tools for his experimentation.

On a stone table nearby, one of those tools writhed, restrained by thick enchanted chains. The man's body twitched violently as Grey observed the effects of the last potion. Skin blackened and cracked, eyes turning glassy white — but the transformation was still incomplete. A failure. Grey sighed and noted the result on a parchment. "Not strong enough," he murmured coldly. "But we're getting closer."

He moved back to the cauldron, adding a single drop of troll's blood. The potion flared with an unnatural light — and Grey's lips curved into a wicked, satisfied smile. Carefully, he poured the liquid into a vial. It was perfect. He turned back to his restrained subject, his voice low and almost gentle. "Don't worry. You'll be the first to witness greatness." The prisoner thrashed harder, eyes wide with terror. But Grey didn't care. He approached slowly, raising the vial —

BOOM.

The cavern wall exploded inward. Stone and crystal shards rained down as the sound of destruction echoed through the lab. A tall, muscular figure stepped through the cloud of dust — moving with an air of utter confidence. The man's black hair hung just above his shoulders, framing cold, green eyes. A scar tugged at the corner of his mouth, giving his smirk a dangerous edge. In his hand, a wicked, segmented blade glinted in the dim light — a dagger with a curved handguard and an endless chain trailing from the hilt.

"So this is where you've been hiding," the man said, his voice rough and casual. "You're a hard man to track down, Grey Snape."Grey sighed — not out of fear, but irritation. He recognized that weapon. And that smile. "Another bounty hunter," he said flatly. "They're getting desperate." "Maybe. But the pay's good." Grey didn't answer. Instead, he raised the vial to his lips and drank — The chain moved. It lashed out like a viper — impossibly fast. The segmented links wrapped around the vial and crushed it — but it was too late. Grey wiped his mouth, his eyes flashing. A wicked grin spread across his face. "You shouldn't have come here," Grey said softly. "Yeah?" The man's smirk widened. "Why's that?"

The sound started low — a rumble that grew into a roar. Grey's body twisted and convulsed, his limbs elongating, his form expanding. Scales erupted across his skin — black and red, gleaming like polished obsidian. The transformation was fast — too fast — and when it was done, the cavern seemed to shrink around the creature that stood there. It wasn't a snake.It was a basilisk.