Chapter 71: A Tale Of Nova

With an explosive burst of speed, Godric vanished, the ground beneath him erupting into a jagged crater. Volg's eyes widened in shock as Godric reappeared before him, his fiery blade descending with deadly precision. Volg barely managed to react, his gauntlet snapping up as the shimmer of his magical shield began to form. But before steel could clash with magic, Godric vanished again, reappearing at Volg's side in a blur.

The blade tore through Volg's side.

A cry of pain ripped from Volg's throat as he stumbled backward, clutching the fresh wound. He whipped his wand around frantically, spells shooting out in a barrage, but Godric was already moving, dodging each one with uncanny agility. The crimson-eyed warrior twisted mid-motion, his blade slashing through the air. Volg jumped back just in time, the blade grazing the fringe of his hair, its heat searing perilously close to his skin.

Sweat trickled down Volg's face, his breathing erratic as the reality of the situation settled in. This wasn't a duel anymore; this wasn't the posturing of prideful students. Here, there were no empty threats, no hollow bravado. Every move, every strike Godric made, was driven by pure, unrelenting intent.

He wasn't just trying to defeat Volg.

He was trying to kill him.

The weight of realization bore heavily on Volg's chest, his baby-blue eyes alight with flickering fear and simmering rage. With a guttural cry, he lashed out, his wand whipping spell after spell in Godric's direction. But Godric moved like a phantom, his form darting across the tower, nearly invisible amidst the bursts of light and smoke. He leaped, twisted, and flipped through the air with precision, dodging every spell hurled at him. Each step shattered the stone beneath his feet, sonic booms reverberating across the tower as glass panes trembled violently.

The blade came from all angles, forcing Volg into a defensive frenzy. His gauntlet snapped up, the shield shimmering with magic as steel met its surface. Sparks erupted with each impact, the sound deafening.

Then, Volg saw it. The shield flickered.

His panicked gaze dropped to the gem embedded in his gauntlet—it was dimming, the light faltering. "No, no, you worthless piece of junk!" he snarled.

Godric reappeared in the air before him, teeth gritted, sword raised high. With a feral roar, he brought the blade down. Steel collided with magic, a cascade of sparks flying as the shield cracked audibly. Volg gritted his teeth, the pressure mounting as the blade pressed down. The shield shrank, buckling under the force, until the flaming blade pierced through, cutting into Volg's shoulder. The searing heat burned his flesh, and he let out a scream—raw, agonized, and pathetic.

"Repello!" Volg howled, waving his wand. The spell sent a forceful blast outward, throwing Godric back. He slid across the fractured floor, his sword steady in hand, his crimson eyes blazing with fury.

Volg clutched his wounded shoulder, a pitiful cry escaping his lips. His body trembled, sweat and blood dripping as he glared at Godric.

"Feel that?" Godric's voice was cold and venomous. "That's but a fraction of what you did to Raine. Not so fun now, is it? To be on the other side of a blade?"

Volg quaked, his face twisting into a mask of rage. With a deafening scream, he waved his wand furiously, summoning a swirling inferno. "Burn the heart out of me, Gryffindor?" he snarled. "Then burn to ash! Pestis Incendium!"

The inferno roared to life, erupting into a wave of flame that took the shape of a massive dragon. Its jaws opened wide, heat radiating so fiercely that the air seemed to ripple. The entire tower was consumed by scorching light.

Rowena, Helga, and Helena shielded their faces, the intense heat forcing them to step back. Gabriel's usually stoic eyes widened in alarm. He and the other Enforcers snapped their wands up in unison, casting a massive protective barrier over the battlefield. The shimmering dome contained the raging inferno, but the heat continued to press against the translucent walls, threatening to melt even the protective magic.

The room became an inferno, flames licking at every surface, and yet Godric stood firm, his blade glowing hotter against the wall of flame. His gaze remained locked on Volg.

****

"What in the Old Gods' name is that?" Helena cried. The flaming dragon's fiery form reflected in her irises, flickering like a living nightmare. "I've never seen a spell like that!"

"Pestis Incendium," Rowena said. "More commonly known as Fiendfyre. It's a cursed flame, highly advanced magic. The fire takes on monstrous forms and incinerates anything in its path, alive or otherwise."

She paused, her breathing steadying as she explained. "It requires immense skill and razor-sharp concentration to control… Volg Dryfus may be an insufferable little brat, but there's no denying his talent."

"Do you think Godric knows any water spells?" Helga asked, her gaze fixed on the growing inferno as it writhed against the barrier.

Rowena didn't answer immediately, her sapphire eyes narrowing as she studied the roaring flames. "If he doesn't, we might all be in trouble."

"Godric's going to need more than a water spell," Helena added. "He'll need an ocean to put that out."

****

"Perish in the fury of a thousand suns, New Blood!" Volg roared, his wand slashing through the air with a feral intensity. The blazing dragon split into three heads, each roaring with a deafening, ear-piercing ferocity as they lunged toward Godric in a tidal wave of consuming fire.

Godric braced himself, feeling the searing heat scorch the air and the roaring wind whip against his face. His grip on his sword tightened, his crimson eyes narrowing with determination. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly, the circuits etched into his body igniting in radiant, fiery lines. The light spread from his arms, cascading into the hilt of his blade, consuming the silver steel in a blaze of crackling energy.

"Born of flame, rise from the ashes," Godric murmured. The sword erupted into an inferno, a living flame dancing along its edge. "Light the world on fire!"

With a thunderous step, the ground beneath him shattered, sending fissures through the stone floor as he launched forward in an explosion of raw power. In a blink, Godric appeared before the flaming dragon, leaving a trail of flames in his wake. His sword gleamed with an otherworldly light as it slashed in precise, deadly arcs—one, two, three.

The dragon's heads fell, severed cleanly, the monstrous fire dispersing like ash caught in the wind. Godric spun in mid-air, twisting like a blazing comet, darting straight through the dragon's body. The fiery beast disintegrated into nothingness, the immense heat dissipating in an instant. Silence fell, broken only by the crackle of faint embers fading into smoke.

Volg's eyes widened, his breath hitching in disbelief.

Godric landed with practiced precision, his fiery blade trailing sparks as he rushed forward. His face was set, his determination unrelenting. Before Volg could react, the sword was already swinging toward his neck.

The blade collided with Volg's gauntlet, slicing through the protective shield like paper and embedding an inch into his arm. Volg cried out in pain, clutching his bleeding arm, but a twisted grin spread across his face despite the agony.

Godric's chest heaved as his eyes narrowed, his focus unbroken. Then, he saw it—Volg's lips curled into that maddening smirk. Clenched between his teeth was a glowing lavender crystal. A sickening realization washed over him as Volg bit down.

"No!" Godric roared, but it was too late. The crystal shattered, unleashing a blinding surge of violet light that filled the tower.

****

"Dryfus, you fool!" Serfence shot to his feet, slamming the table with such force that the mug of ale toppled over, spilling its contents onto Workner's jacket.

The entire Congregation erupted in a cacophony of gasps and murmurs, the lavender glow flooding the screen casting a grim light on their faces. Those who understood the implications wore expressions of sheer horror. The rest exchanged bewildered glances, unsure of the magnitude of what they were witnessing.

"Edward… that was—" Workner stammered, his eyes wide with dread. "Please tell me it wasn't!"

"It's exactly what you think it was," Serfence growled, his teeth clenched. His fists tightened at his sides, trembling with barely contained rage. "Nova… that reckless, brainless idiot!"

"We have to stop this!" Workner exclaimed, leaping from his stool, his jacket forgotten. "This has gone too far! We need to appeal to the Table—they have to—"

"Workner," Serfence interrupted grimly. "You know as well as I do, the Old Laws and the Old Ways are clear. There's nothing in them that forbids the use of substances in combat. As long as the duel abides by the rules, it cannot be interfered with—not even by the Table."

Workner opened his mouth to protest, but the words died on his tongue. His shoulders slumped as realization set in. "You're right," he muttered, his tone defeated. "There's nothing we can do."

"Nothing, except put our faith in Gryffindor," Serfence said, his dark eyes narrowing as he stared at the screen. "And pray that he has the strength and courage to see this through to the end."

****

Godric staggered back, his eyes widening in horror at the sight before him. Volg thrashed violently, his body convulsing as his veins turned dark, bulging grotesquely beneath his skin, which now glowed with an ominous violet hue. The sickly light spread like a corruption, creeping across his entire frame. Volg doubled over, retching violently as splatters of violet liquid hit the fractured ground.

His hands shot up to cover his face, but through his trembling fingers, Godric could see the transformation taking hold. The sclera of his eyes blackened, his irises radiating a haunting, bluish glow. A guttural, monstrous sound escaped his lips, his voice deeper now, warped and dual-toned.

Godric's breath hitched, an involuntary step back betraying his unease. His grip tightened on his sword, yet the sight before him made his resolve waver. Volg panted heavily, strings of glowing violet drool trailing from the corners of his mouth. He straightened with an audible crack, his twisted smile stretching unnaturally across his face.

"See, Gryffindor…" Volg rasped, a beast-like growl beneath the words. "See what you've made me do?"

The words sent a chill down Godric's spine, but he remained silent.

Volg chuckled darkly, but it was laced with pain. "You know, I've come to a realization. Despite how much I believed—no, convinced myself—that I could defeat you…" He retched again, another spray of glowing purple fluid hitting the ground as his breaths grew ragged. "Deep down, I knew. I knew it wasn't enough."

He glared at Godric, a horrifying intensity burning in his corrupted gaze. "But now? At the end of it all? I've found peace in one simple truth." He leaned forward, his twisted grin growing wider, almost inhuman.

"I don't have to win…" Volg snarled. "I just need to make sure Godric Gryffindor loses."

"Volg… you…" Godric's words caught in his throat.

The hatred he'd clung to for so long wavered, overshadowed by a mix of shock and horror at what Volg had become. A distant pang of guilt echoed inside him, buried beneath his resolve but undeniable. He couldn't help but feel a flicker of responsibility for the desperation that had brought them both to this point.

His crimson eyes darted to Volg's body, the wounds he had inflicted moments before now closing before his very eyes. The cuts and gashes scabbed over, glowing with that same sickly, unnatural purple light. Each sign of damage was erased as if time itself were bending to Volg's corrupted will.

Volg's twisted smile deepened as he lifted his hand. With a sharp flick of his wrist, Derek's discarded wand, lying forgotten on the shattered ground, flew into his grasp. Now armed with a wand in each hand, he crossed them over his chest, the violent glow in his eyes intensifying.

"Now…" Volg said. "How about we finally bring this silly little game to an end?"

****

"T-That's Nova…" Rowena's breath hitched, her hand flying to cover her mouth in shock. Her sapphire eyes were wide, glistening with a mixture of horror and disbelief. "I've heard stories—whispers in my family, even from Bran—but to see it…" She swallowed hard. "It's horrifying."

"This has gone too far!" Helena's cried out as she turned to Gabriel, her brown eyes pleading. "Gabriel, you have to stop this!"

Gabriel's gaze remained locked on the unfolding chaos, his stoic mask showing the faintest cracks—a twitch of his brow, a bead of sweat sliding down his temple. "You know the rules as well as I do, Miss Abbot," he said, his tone firm yet strained. "There are no prohibitions against the use of narcotics in duels."

"Screw the rules!" Helena snapped. "Do you intend to just stand there and watch them kill each other?"

Gabriel's eyes snapped to hers, his face darkening with fury. The sheer intensity of his glare made Helena falter, her breath catching as she instinctively stepped back. "As this is your first time speaking out of turn, Miss Abbot, I will let it pass. But do not presume to dishonor the Old Laws again," he said. "The Law is absolute. No one—not even those who sit at the Table—is above it."

Helena swallowed hard, shrinking into herself, though her trembling hands betrayed her frustration.

"Surely, there's something in these laws that can stop this!" Helga protested. "Something, anything!"

Gabriel shook his head slowly. "I'm afraid not, Miss Hufflepuff. The participants of a duel are given the freedom to bring whatever tools or enhancements they desire—whether they be weapons, artifacts, or…" He hesitated briefly, his jaw tightening. "Even Nova. This was Mister Dryfus's choice, and the consequences that follow will be his alone to bear."

Helga clenched her fists, her expression twisting with anger. "Rules…"

"And consequences," Gabriel finished grimly.

Helga turned her desperate gaze to Rowena. "What does Nova do? What is it capable of?"

Rowena's eyes screwed shut for a moment as if trying to push the words back, but then she took a deep, shaky breath. "It enhances magic—amplifies it exponentially. It grants someone access to spells that would take years, even decades, of training to perform. It turns them into something… unnatural." She paused. "But the cost… Nova doesn't give without taking. It ravages the body, tears it apart piece by piece in exchange for power."

She shook her head, her gaze fixed on the horrific sight before them. "Professional duelists used to take it in tiny doses to boost their performance, but it was banned from all sanctioned matches after the first few victims. Those who abused it…" Her words trailed off. "Let's just say they were never the same. If they even lived long enough to regret it."

"I've seen what a mere pinch of Nova can do," Rowena said, her sapphire eyes fixed on Volg. "I've read about the damage it inflicts—the way it warps their magic, their bodies, even their minds." Her gaze darkened. "But this… I've never seen anyone take so much at once."

She drew a sharp breath, her hands trembling slightly at her sides. "If Volg survives this…" She faltered for a moment before she steadied herself. "There's no telling what kind of life—what kind of existence—he'll have left when it's over."

****

"The eyes of the entire Congregation are upon us!" Volg declared, his grin twisting into something unhinged. "So, let's give them a show they'll never forget!"

With a flick of both wands, he unleashed two simultaneous spells, the air rippling with raw power. Godric's eyes widened as he darted to the side, his sword flashing up to deflect the second spell. His circuits blazed to life again, glowing veins of light coursing through his body as he launched himself forward. Volg's movements turned frenzied, his arms tracing arcs through the air as spells fired from his wands at an inhuman speed. The battlefield became a storm of magic, light and energy streaking toward Godric in relentless waves.

Godric twisted and flipped, his blade a blur as it deflected the onslaught. Each dodge was a near miss, each parry a spark of light against Volg's ceaseless barrage. He gritted his teeth, the intensity forcing him to move with everything he had.

"What's the matter, Gryffindor?" Volg's laughter echoed through the tower, wild and taunting. "What happened to all that speed? So much for Vis Vitalis—it's trash! Just like you!"

Volg's wands moved in sync, weaving a dark and intricate pattern. "Tenebris Bracchium!" he shouted.

Black, claw-like tendrils erupted from his wands, lashing toward Godric with deadly precision. Their razor-sharp tips shattered the stone floor as they struck, sending shards flying. Godric darted and spun, his movements fluid as he slipped between the writhing claws, each strike missing him by a breath.

He steadied himself on one hand, glaring up at Volg with fire in his crimson eyes. Volg sneered, sending another wave of the dark tendrils. Godric surged forward, a blur of motion, weaving through the deadly web. As he closed the distance, his wand aimed true. "Stupefy!" he roared.

The spell struck Volg square in the face, snapping his head back. Godric's sword followed in a flawless arc, slashing across Volg's side as he slid past him, coming to a halt behind his opponent.

Volg staggered, but his twisted smile didn't falter. Godric's eyes widened in disbelief as the gash on the boy's side glowed sickly purple, the wound knitting itself closed within seconds.

"Close, Gryffindor," Volg taunted. "But not close enough."

Volg raised both wands, their tips glowing brighter and brighter, the light building to an almost blinding intensity. Godric's instincts screamed at him—this wasn't an ordinary spell.

"Zoltraak!" Volg bellowed. A blinding beam of energy erupted from his wands, the sheer force of it tearing through the air. Godric dove to the side just in time as the spell streaked past him. The protective barrier containing the duel shattered on impact, the magic ripping a gaping hole in the tower's wall.

Godric glanced over his shoulder, his breath caught in his throat as he stared at the smoldering remnants of the wall. His heart pounded in his chest. Whatever that spell was, one thing was certain—it would have killed him.

****

Údar scoffed, her lone, sharp eye narrowing as her fingers interlocked tightly. She tapped her heel rhythmically against the wooden floor, her gaze fixed on the floating screen. Around her, the mood of her Clan was tense—her hounds exchanged uneasy glances, some still visibly shaken by Volg's transformation. The weight of his revelation hung heavy in the air.

Cú, however, sat straighter, his crimson eyes narrowing with a sharper intensity. "I don't know about you, Údar," he said, his tone low and deliberate, "but that's not your garden-variety magic. Those spells he's casting—they're not something you'd find in any library worth its salt." He leaned forward. "He's had access to some seriously forbidden material. The kind that could get you expelled, if not worse."

"To Hell with that," Údar snapped, her good eye narrowing. "Learnin' a spell is one thing, but castin' it? That's a whole different beast. Even with all that cursed shite pumpin' through his veins, the way he's throwin' out those advanced spells, not to mention double-castin'? No bloody way a second year should be able to pull that off. Hell, even the seasoned lot'd struggle."

She tilted her head, her tone grudgingly admiring. "If he wasn't such a colossal gobshite, I might've said he had the makings of someone who could've gone all the way to the top."

Údar lips twitched into a faint, sardonic smirk. "But here's the thing," she said. "Those spells reek of desperation, power snatched without a thought for the consequences. But let me ask ya this," she turned her good eye toward Cú, the corner of her mouth curling further, "does it matter where he got them from? Or does it matter more who's got the stones to stand up to him now?"

Cú tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing as he considered her words. "You think Gryffindor's got it in him to take this all the way?"

Údar's smirk widened, though it carried no warmth. "If he doesn't, Cú, this'll be more than just Volg's fight to lose. It'll be the Congregation's reckoning," she said, her tone sharp as steel.

She leaned forward. "And I, for one, don't plan on bein' the one to pick up the pieces if the whole bloody thing comes crashin' down."

****

Beams of searing light ricocheted across the clock tower, each one homing in on Godric with deadly precision. The walls bore the scars of Volg's relentless assault—deep indentations, scorched black from the sheer magical force. Godric's movements were a blur, his unmatched speed his only salvation from being reduced to ash. His blade struck Volg again and again, slashing through his flesh, each strike sending arcs of blood splattering onto the stone floor. But Volg only laughed, a wild, manic sound, his wounds closing almost instantly with a sickly violet glow.

Volg whipped both his wands, arcs of light flaring around him. "Bombarda Maxima!" he roared, unleashing a barrage of explosive blasts that rocked the clock tower to its very foundation.

"Protego!" Godric shouted, summoning a shimmering shield just in time. The magical barrier absorbed the brunt of the blasts, but one beam of light pierced through, grazing his temple and singeing his hair. He flinched, his breath catching.

"Stand still, Gryffindor," Volg sneered, his grin twisted and feral, violet fluid dripping from his mouth. "And I promise I'll make it quick! You may be fast, but not even you can run forever."

Godric's chest heaved, each breath more labored than the last. He could feel it—the toll of Vis Vitalis wearing down his body. His muscles ached, and his lungs burned. The technique he'd used sparingly in this fight to preserve himself was pushing him closer to his limit. He couldn't afford another collapse like after Dunbroch. This time, there might not be a recovery.

But before he could plan his next move, Volg's grin widened, his expression shifting to something far more malicious. "You know what?" he said, his wand flicking upward. "Let's change the game."

With deliberate cruelty, he aimed his wand at Raine.

Her golden eyes widened in horror, and Godric's heart froze. Without thinking, he moved, vanishing in an instant. As he reappeared, wand mid-swing, Volg's smirk deepened.

"Got you!" Volg snarled. "Diffindo!"

A razor-sharp arc of magic sliced through the air. Godric's wand was slashed in half, the force of the spell continuing through his thigh.

"Godric!" Helga, Rowena, Helena, and Raine screamed in unison.

Godric cried out in pain, dropping to one knee. His hand shot to the deep gash in his leg, blood pouring freely, soaking his trousers and pooling onto the stone floor. His sword clattered, its glowing tip digging into the ground as he leaned on it for support.

Volg doubled over in laughter. "Hah! I can't believe you fell for that, you idiot!" His eyes gleamed with mocking delight. "Did you honestly think I'd destroy my own merchandise? You're even dumber than I thought!"

"Let's see you try to run with that!" Volg taunted as violet streaks began to trail down his cheeks, seeping from his eyes like corrupted tears. "You'll bleed out long before this battle's over."

Godric clutched his leg, the crimson pooling beneath him as he forced himself upright, his breaths labored but his gaze unyielding. "If only you could see yourself now," he said through gritted teeth. "You look like a damned monster clawing its way out of the pits of Hell. Even if you manage to kill me, what then?" His eyes locked onto Volg's. "What do you think awaits you after all of this?"

For a brief moment, Volg faltered. His gaze flicked downward, catching sight of his reflection in a puddle at his feet. The face staring back at him was unrecognizable—twisted, monstrous, and riddled with cracks of glowing violet. His hand lifted to his cheek, trembling as if he couldn't believe what he had become. But the hesitation vanished as quickly as it appeared. He clenched his teeth, his expression contorting with rage.

"You think I give a damn about this?" Volg barked. "I came here with one purpose: to make you suffer. To make that pelt suffer." His voice cracked with manic intensity as his hand gripped his wand tighter. "Even if it rips me apart, even if it costs me everything, I won't stop until I've mounted your head on my wall and turned that bitch into a winter scarf!"

His crazed smile widened. "Perhaps then, then, my parents, my bastard brother, every waste of space in The Congregation will remember me. The name Volg Dryfus will live forever!"

Godric stared at him, his expression twisted in a mixture of shock and disgust. "You're mad."

"Says the boonie willing to risk it all for a slave!" Volg spat, pointing his wand at Raine. "You were ready to throw your life away, be shackled and collared, all for her. Her!" He sneered. "She's nothing but another worthless pelt, a dime a dozen! You could stroll down to any slave market and pick up one twice as obedient for half the price."

His gaze narrowing as his sneer deepened. "But no, you had to choose her. What kind of pathetic fool bets everything for love? It's sick, revolting—it makes my blood boil, my insides turn!"

Godric's gaze dropped to the wound in his thigh, blood still seeping from the gash. His eyes then shifted to his broken wand gripped in his hand. Finally, they settled on his sword, its blade still glowing hot and searing. Drawing in a sharp breath, he let the broken wand fall to the floor as he gripped the hilt of his sword. Slowly, he rose, his stance steady despite the pain, his crimson eyes narrowing as they locked onto Volg's.

In a deliberate motion, he flipped the sword in his hand, pressing the blazing steel against the wound in his thigh. A piercing cry tore from his throat, reverberating through the tower. The stench of burning flesh filled the air, causing everyone to recoil. Raine's hands flew to her mouth, her golden eyes wide in horror. Even Volg stood frozen, a flicker of unease breaking through his manic facade as he watched.

Godric pulled the blade away, the blazing glow now faded and the wound cauterized, though the edges of his trousers were singed and stained with blood. His chest heaved with labored breaths. His sweat-drenched face twisted in pain. Yet, his grip on the sword was steady, his resolve unwavering.

"You're right, Volg," he said. "I am a fool." His words were deliberate, sharp. "I've been called that more times than I can count. A fool for raising my blade against a member of the faculty. A fool for daring to defy the laws of this world. A fool for believing that good intentions and courage alone can change it."

He took a step forward, his blade gleaming as he leveled it at Volg. "But even as a fool, I stand. I stand against the world. Against people like you," he said, each word carrying the weight of his conviction. "People who trample on the hopes and dreams of others. Who steal their freedoms. Who rip love and life away from those who hold them dear."

Godric's grip tightened on the sword, the circuits on his body igniting once more, glowing like molten lava coursing beneath his skin. "As long as people like you exist, I'll be here. Sword in hand. And I'll cut this damned world in half if I must. Burn the rest to ashes if it means I can protect the people I care about!"

His voice thundered as he stepped closer, his fiery presence almost tangible. "Because I am Godric Gryffindor, the Lion of Ignis! And my flames will never die!"