Chapter 26: HP World mysteries I

In the middle of the Hall of Prophecies, Noah levitated just a few centimeters above the ground. Sitting cross-legged with his back straight, his eyes remained closed, deeply focused. Behind him floated the Soul Philosopher's Stone, an imposing object over a meter tall. From its core emanated a constant energy that seemed to resonate with the vibrant power released by the prophecy chambers. The shelves that once held crystal spheres had reorganized themselves, forming a complex magical circle with Noah at its center.

Before him, a divination sphere hovered at eye level, its surface reflecting the glow of the surroundings. Around it, three objects floated in perfect balance: a wand, a black cloak, and a small stone. The three Deathly Hallows.

Noah had always been a fantasy enthusiast, absorbing all kinds of content related to magical worlds: from The Lord of the Rings movies and books to the complex plots of Dungeons & Dragons tabletop games. In his youth, he spent his days buried in novels set in such universes. It was upon discovering the Kemoyin's pupil technique—originating from a world inspired by the D&D multiverse—that his plans for ascending to power took a definitive turn. Over the years, he had perfected those plans. And when he realized that the wizards of this world contained the blood of magical creatures, his path became even clearer.

One of the things that had most fascinated him about the magical creatures of D&D-like worlds was the concept of a "True Name"—a name that wasn't merely an identifier but the very essence of a being, its existence encapsulated in a word or set of words. Powerful beings like demons, gods, or dragons guarded their true names jealously, for anyone who knew them could control, summon, seal, or even destroy them.

Noah had deduced that, just like in those other worlds, the magical creatures of this universe might also have true names. And if the magical creatures of this world possessed such an attribute, could Death itself, as an entity, also have one? Did it possess a magical lineage like other creatures? And most importantly, did a true name exist for it?

Though many questions still lingered in his mind, Noah wasn't overly concerned about immediate answers. He had accomplished much during his time in this world: he had created the Philosopher's Stone, acquired all kinds of magical lineages, and stolen the Eye of Truth. Even if his plan didn't go as expected, he would still have the fruits of his labor, and that was enough for him.

As he concentrated, Noah remained motionless. The three Deathly Hallows levitated around him: the Elder Wand, the Cloak of Invisibility, and the Resurrection Stone. With a precise gesture, his energy flowed through them, and the Soul Philosopher's Stone, suspended behind him, began to radiate a steady current of power. The hall seemed to resonate with the vibration of the magic he was about to invoke.

The divination sphere floated in front of him, its surface gradually darkening. Noah extended a hand toward the wand, feeling the Deathly Hallows' energy interlink. The cloak expanded, enveloping the space with a light breeze. The small stone shone intensely, synchronizing with the flow of power.

With a slight motion of his hand, he activated the ritual. The sphere began to spin, casting flashes of light as it filled with fragmented images and cryptic symbols. Energy flowed toward the center of the sphere, and Noah focused all his concentration on the question that had been haunting him: Does Death have a true name?

The symbols began to materialize within the sphere as the massive Philosopher's Stone behind his back started shrinking at an alarming rate. The symbols were unusual patterns—letters and geometric shapes that belonged to no known language. As they unfolded, Noah studied them carefully, memorizing each one. In his mind, he instantly connected them, recognizing the structure they formed, though he couldn't decipher their full meaning at once.

Suddenly, the sphere exploded, releasing a wave of energy that scattered crystal fragments throughout the room, which began to tremble and crack apart. The Soul Philosopher's Stone, once more than a meter tall, shrank to the size of a fingernail before disintegrating into fine dust.

The vision in Noah's mind faded, but the symbols remained etched into his memory.

He took a moment to collect himself before bursting into laughter and hastily leaving the room, which disintegrated the very next second.

At the same time.

In the midst of a domain of endless shadows, where light never touched the ground. There was no sky or earth, no beginning or end—only an infinite abyss that seemed to devour all traces of existence. This was the realm of Death, a dimension that extended beyond the boundaries of all comprehension.

At the center of this place stood a solitary black throne.

Seated on it, almost fused with the darkness, was a hooded figure. Its body was hunched, nearly inert, as if the weight of its own existence pressed it toward the ground. Its face was indistinguishable—only two eyes, as dark as bottomless pits, glowed faintly in the gloom.

This was Death, the entity that existed beyond both life and death itself, beyond all human understanding.

Suddenly, both eyes, black as abysses, opened at once. A cold, deep radiance emerged from them, sweeping through the space as if searching for something—something that had disturbed the balance of its being. The figure, until then unmoving, tensed as it sensed it. An unknown feeling, an indescribable fear, began to form within. It was a strange sensation, as if something was about to destabilize the very essence of its existence—a threat it couldn't locate, but clearly felt approaching.

With a sharp movement, the figure rose from the throne, its eyes scanning the vastness of the beyond. The throne, empty and shadowed, was left behind as the entity quickly traversed the space stretching in all directions. With each step, the darkness seemed to absorb it as it examined the edges of the universe it knew, searching for something—some crack or disturbance.

But despite scrutinizing the deepest corners of the beyond, it found nothing. No being, no force, no change that could explain the sensation. The afterlife, immutable and silent, remained in perfect balance. There was nothing that could cause such unease—nothing to suggest its existence was in danger.

Finally, with a slight twitch of its face, the figure understood. The danger did not come from the beyond, as it had assumed. Something in the material world could threaten its existence.

It stopped for a moment, still cloaked in darkness, and its mind began to analyze the possibilities. Who or what could be causing this? The hooded figure, now fully alert, knew it had to act. The threat was not just a nuisance—it was a direct danger to its very existence. And it would not allow that threat to thrive.

With a sigh that echoed like a deep chasm, it plunged once more into the shadows, determined to investigate what had triggered that fear.