Chapter 21: The Immersive Game
"Only pure intent is the sole truth."
Her words still echoed in Hofa's ears, but he no longer knew how to respond.
In an instant, he felt as though he had been transported into a weightless, material-less vacuum.
Surrounding him was blinding white light, making it impossible to see anything.
He didn't know where his physical body was, nor did he know where he truly was. He couldn't even sense the existence of anything around him. The strangeness of this place left him utterly baffled.
The unfamiliar experience began to unsettle Hofa, but he quickly remembered the masked woman's words: "Only pure intent is the sole truth."
His goal was the Disillusionment Charm.
The Disillusionment Charm.
As soon as this thought arose, the white light around him seemed to sense it.
A strand of light separated from the surroundings and merged with Hofa.
The complex and mystical syllables of "Disillusionment" entered his mind. Before he could fully grasp the meaning of the spell, the white light around him suddenly began to take form. Gravity and matter started to appear.
Gradually, the white light faded, and the surrounding scenery began to materialize.
Ding! Ding!
The sound of church bells mixed with the flapping of birds reached Hofa's ears.
The noise of bustling crowds and the creaking of wooden wheels filled the air.
The world before him gradually came into focus.
When he became accustomed to his surroundings, Hofa realized he was no longer in the dim underground room. He wasn't even at Hogwarts.
Hofa now stood on a busy street.
The sky was cloudless, and it was a bright, sunny morning. Occasionally, black carriages pulled by four horses rushed past, their old-fashioned oil lamps jingling as they moved.
The last time Hofa had seen such carriages was in the movie "Pirates of the Caribbean" in his previous life.
The people around him wore black top hats and suits, checking their pocket watches. Women dressed in Victorian-era clothing strolled the streets, their exaggerated, old-fashioned pleated skirts swaying as they carried baskets, resembling maids or cooks.
Around these cooks and coachmen were towering villas with grand entrances, circular arched windows, and stone corners, exuding opulence.
The intricate carvings on the doorposts and window frames, along with the high spire of a distant church, made it clear that this was not 1938.
If anything, it seemed more like 1839 or even earlier.
Upon closer inspection, Hofa realized that this body wasn't his own.
He now wore a dirty, tattered gray robe, a colorful feather necklace around his neck, and bone bracelets on his wrists.
He looked like a shaman.
Most importantly, he had become a Black man—a Black wizard who had likely been sold to Europe through the slave trade.
This scene left Hofa utterly shocked.
He tried to move but found it impossible.
The Black wizard stood in the shadow of a tavern sign on a street corner, seemingly waiting for something.
At that moment, a well-dressed elderly man emerged from the villa across the street. Several coachmen quickly opened the carriage door for him.
After he entered, the carriage rolled away.
As soon as the carriage left, "Hofa" moved—completely uncontrollably.
It felt as though there were two souls in this Black man's body: one was Hofa, and the other was the original owner.
Hofa began to understand the situation better. This perspective was like switching to a teammate's view in a first-person shooter game after dying.
However, what he was experiencing was likely the Black wizard's memory.
The Black man hurried along the street corner to the villa. He glanced up at the high reliefs on the mansion, his eyes narrowing as he turned into a nearby alley.
After ensuring no one was around, he quickly climbed the villa's reliefs, scaling the building with remarkable agility.
Perched on the windowsill, the Black wizard pulled out his wand—a strange, curved wand resembling a hook.
He tapped the window.
"Alohomora."
The window clicked open.
Without hesitation, the Black wizard slipped inside. Watching this, Hofa realized the man was a thief—a wizard thief.
The room was filled with obviously valuable items: ornate gold watches, exquisite porcelain on the mantelpiece.
Even on the floor lay a completely naked European woman, surrounded by fine silk and empty wine bottles.
She was sound asleep.
She was likely the mistress of the elderly man who had just left in the carriage. They had been engaged in some kind of romantic play earlier.
But the Black wizard paid no attention to these things—neither the woman nor the valuables. He quickly began searching the room, as if looking for something far more important.
Hofa glanced at the woman a few times before shifting his focus. Although she was beautiful, she wasn't particularly remarkable to Hofa, who had experienced the 21st century.
He was more concerned about the current situation.
Without a doubt, the scroll the masked woman had opened for him was a magical artifact similar to Tom Riddle's diary or a Pensieve.
It recorded a real event and allowed him to witness it, likely to convey some kind of message.
But what did this have to do with his pursuit of the Disillusionment Charm?
The Black wizard searched for a while but couldn't find what he was looking for.
Finally, he pulled out his wand and began tapping the air around him.
Bookshelves, porcelain, the floor—even the woman on the floor—were not spared.
Suddenly, when his wand touched a marble globe, the globe rotated slightly.
The Black wizard immediately put away his wand and examined the globe closely.
After a moment, he gave it a firm twist, and the globe made a clicking sound.
A rumbling noise came from the luxurious wooden floor.
It was a hidden mechanism and a secret door!
The door led into pitch-black darkness, seemingly leading to an unknown area.
The noise woke the woman on the floor, who had been lost in her drunken stupor. But the Black wizard didn't notice. He seemed excited.
He quickly approached the secret door.
He lit his wand, but as soon as the light illuminated the darkness—
Grrr!
A low growl came from the dark passage.
A sense of extreme danger washed over Hofa.
It was strange—this feeling came directly from his heart, as if he were the Black wizard.
He didn't know what was happening but instinctively wanted to retreat.
At that moment, control of the Black wizard's body returned to Hofa. He took a step back.
Just that one step.
The moment he moved, something locked onto him.
Then, a massive, crimson tongue nearly five meters long shot out from the darkness, piercing through the Black wizard's chest—and Hofa's chest.
An intense, excruciating pain surged through Hofa's mind. This wasn't fake!
This was real!
His chest had been pierced!
Blood gushed out.
The Black wizard—no, Hofa—collapsed to the ground.
The woman's terrified screams and the sound of shattering wine bottles filled his ears as his vision faded to black.
Hofa didn't have time to think. He exhaled once and died instantly.
...
...
...
It might have been a second, or it might have been a century.
Ding! Ding!
The sound of church bells and flapping birds reached Hofa's ears again. The chatter of people and the creaking of wheels surrounded him.
Hofa woke up from the intense pain.
Before him was the same bustling street, the same sunny morning.
The black carriages pulled by horses clattered past, their oil lamps jingling.
The early-rising cook haggled over vegetables at a wooden stall.
It was a peaceful, ordinary scene.
Hofa was stunned. What was going on?
The memory of his sudden death was still vivid. The feeling of blood pouring from his chest, the helplessness, the pain, and the despair still weighed heavily on him.
He wanted to catch his breath but found it impossible.
Because control of the Black man's body was no longer his. "He" stood under the tavern sign again, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a dark expression.
What happened next filled Hofa with despair.
At the entrance of the luxurious villa, the same portly elderly man stepped out. He was dressed like a Muggle politician, his face showing the pallor of a hangover and the annoyance of having to go to work early.
He entered the carriage, the door closed, and the carriage drove away.
As the old man left, the Black wizard moved again.
He walked into the alley.
Just like before.
Damn it!
Hofa wanted to stop him, but how could a disembodied presence prevent this man from walking to his death? Hofa didn't know.
In the alley, the Black wizard grabbed the protruding parts of the Roman columns and began climbing rapidly.
Hofa grew anxious. He couldn't speak or move, only watch helplessly.
"Alohomora."
The Black wizard opened the window again.
He jumped into the room. The room was the same as before: scattered wine bottles, the beautiful woman, her limbs sprawled, even the drool at the corner of her mouth was the same...
The Black wizard found the globe and opened the secret passage.
The low growl came again.
Yes, at that moment, control returned to Hofa.
"Damn it!"
Hofa cursed in his native language and instinctively tried to jump out the window. He didn't want to experience the chest-piercing pain again.
But things didn't go as planned.
The massive red tongue shot out from the dark passage again, instantly catching up to Hofa and pinning him to the windowsill.
The woman's screams and the sound of shattering bottles faded away.
Game over.
...
... Ding! Ding!
The church bells rang again. Hofa was back at the starting point.
Before him was the same bustling street.
The cheerful cook haggling at the stall.
The hurried coachmen.
Hofa was momentarily disoriented.
As the same elderly man with a hangover grumpily entered the carriage, the Black wizard resolutely led Hofa into the shadow of death once more.
"Damn it!"
Hofa finally understood. He was furious.
This was a true immersive game!
Something that hadn't even been developed in the 21st century, and these wizards had already invented it in 1938.
Without a doubt, during the entire scenario, Hofa would gain control for about three seconds.
Within those three seconds, he had to make the correct response and decision to avoid death.
Otherwise, he would repeatedly experience the pain of dying.
The masked woman had said he would bear the consequences. What kind of magical artifact had she used on him? Even Tom Riddle's diary didn't have this effect.
And what kind of lunatic kept a massive magical creature in their villa? What was this Black wizard trying to steal?
Had the real Black wizard in history lived or died?
But there were no answers to these questions.
As the Black wizard climbed the villa, opened the window, entered the room, and dealt with the mechanism, control returned to Hofa.
Life and death hung in the balance.
The growl echoed from the dark passage.
Hofa wasn't stupid. He immediately thought of the spell he had heard in the white light—Disillusionment.
The sense of danger made his scalp tingle, but this time, Hofa didn't choose to run. He directly controlled the Black wizard to pull out his wand.
"Disillusionment!"
At that moment, magic flowed from the wand and spread throughout Hofa's body, as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over him.
Hofa's figure began to blur. This was indeed the Disillusionment Charm.
But unfortunately, Hofa wasn't skilled at using the spell for the first time. Many of the syllables and movements were incorrect.
He didn't truly become invisible, only slightly blurred.
However, the red tongue seemed to be affected by the magic. It veered off course, piercing Hofa's left side and puncturing his lung and stomach.
After a moment, the tongue retracted like lightning.
This time, it really hurt!
Hofa's tears streamed down his face. He gasped for air and fell to his knees.
Instinctively, he clutched the gaping hole in his chest, wheezing like a broken bell. Stomach acid was seeping into his chest cavity. He would die from suffocation and poisoning.
This feeling was worse than dying outright...
Beside him, the woman screamed and threw anything she could find at Hofa.
Then, in his fading vision, he saw a massive lizard slowly emerge from the dark passage.
Its head was the size of a small car, with three bulging eyes and scales standing on end, resembling a cold-blooded chameleon.
The next second, the lizard opened its mouth, its tongue lashing out and dragging Hofa into its gaping maw filled with sharp teeth.