The Tomb Of Potter 8 Viii: The Elder Ii

"This is the fabled world of death. The Deathly Hallows." Alequit telepathically communicated with them.

"I wish to neither harm the both of you. It is unwise to create conflict with the soon-to-be Master of Death." The thestral continued to telepath.

"Do you truly believe I would willingly abide by you? My only family member resides in the material world whose life is at stake. f.u.c.k you." Meguri stated as her wand glistened. Lightning emerged from the abyss-horizon, wreaking havoc onto the cryptic land. Refusing to accept the outcome as well, the uncolored world began to rumble as Xavier hoisted his wand into the air. Blood seeped from his lips, indicating his forceful use of power. Clouds emerged in the atmosphere as glimpses of lighting danced around. As the lighting developed in intensity, color slowly appeared as they became a vibrant azure. Enraged by their defiance, Alequit neighed mightily as a horde of thestrals emerged from the abyss-horizon.

"I wished for peace. I hope you will escape in peace before this world consumes your souls." Alequit voiced telepathically.

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Xavier smirked as he waved his wand in an orchestra manner. As thunderous lighting echoed with prestige before colliding into the hordes of thestral. Meguri also controlled her lighting summons, as they transformed into sparrows. Battling the group of thestrals before they exploded, causing portions of deathly-beast to instantly succ.u.mb to their wounds. As Xavier's never-ending storm of destruction weakened the horde, Meguri's lighting sparrows a.s.sured death. As the battle transitioned into minutes, Meguri summoned a sphere of lighting that protected the duo. Understanding her actions, Xavier continued to push his body.

"Deus Autem Fulgur!" The entire world brightened a vibrant azure as a cataclysmic lighting bolt descended from the abyssal-atmosphere. Creating an explosion equivalent to a nuclear warhead, the entire world was coated in azure as it rumbled and quaked ferociously.

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"This guy is kicking our a.s.s." Niel sarcastically spoke as he struggled for breath. Holding onto Pipsqueak who no longer possessed life. Glancing down at the once vulgar bird, noticing the gash wound that displayed across its abdomen. Niel went silently, aware that death was inevitable at this stage. Throughout his life he was talented and successful. Born in the Architect family, he was proclaimed to become a phenomenal wizard. Exceeding expectations, he graduated two years early. Earning the rank of Captain within the Order, he was expected to become a phenomenal General in his prime. Such expectations slowly became bleak as he struggled to a.s.sist Alicia as she struggled bitterly. Maybe if he had the prowess of a General they would be able to force their adversary onto the defensive. Cautiously placing Pipsqueak down, he glanced at his right arm. Lamently the absence of his right hand, his fighting spirit burned once again as he resumed casting healing spells on Alicia.

Enduring slash after slash, Alicia remained on the defense. As The Ghost pressured her with awkward angles and uncanny sword combinations. Alicia continued to summon golems as they slowed down his offense and served as protection. The Ghost suddenly fazed out of her sight, appearing behind Niel as his abyssal-shaded sword aimed to steal his life.

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"You are tenacious, boy." Sanguis voiced as blood tentacles numbering the thousands danced throughout the desert. Enduring the artificial sandstorms created by the tentacles, Adamlock continued to push his bodily limits as lighting sparrows constantly destroyed branches of tentacles. Watching the once destroyed tentacles regenerate, a droplet of despair settled into his heart. Forcing himself to recall the image of his mother, his focus and determination remained. His wand began to emit a golden hue as tears spilled from his eyes.

"Mother I will you make you proud… Complexu Matris de Lux Aurea!" Adamlock softly spoke as their battleground lit up with flowers made of light. As the golden flowers multiplied from one, two, a hundred and further into the hundred thousands. A smile of relief washed over Adamlock's face. The flowers intensified in color, transforming the red atmosphere into a loving gold.

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"I've been looking for you. Throughout the decades and centuries you've evaded and out-maneuvered me. I've always envied you since youth. You, was once supposed to be the next wizard to herald over history. So why? Why choose the path of darkness. Why bother learning the arts of evil. Your answer doesn't matter. You were destined to die once you desired to educate yourself in darkness." Lord Trenaver voiced with no sentiments in his tone. But the cloaked individual continued to remain silent. Only staring at Lord Trenaver with no indication of emotions to ever cross his face. Slowly opening his mouth, he talked.

"I do not seek to become evil nor power to rule the world. Only curiosity." The Elder slowly voiced.

"Then you will also seek to end-up headless beneath my might." Lord Trenaver spoke as his eyes glowed with intense light.

The two individuals remained staring at each other. As they stood in a vast and boundless place, seemingly no longer part of the material world. Only the floor existed as anything else was nothing but golden mist. Lord Trenaver examined the phenomena of the mist the second he instantly appeared here. The name of this place was unheard of, nor described in history. But he felt his power unfathomable, enough to single-handedly govern the world. Such a feeling shocked him to the core. Unaware of how and why, he refused to initiate any offense. But The Elder only remained silent, slowly forcing him to utilize force.

"Throughout history, we have always acknowledge magic. Throughout history we explored magic in great depths, but we never traced the roots. How did magic come into existence? What truly defines us and muggle-borns? There is the universe, supposedly boundless. Yet we haven't attempted to expand our magic to such a state. We are limited and ignorant. I'm not a seeker of vengeance nor an ambition villain. I am a scholar foremost. But that doesn't mean I will not stain my hands with blood. You threaten me with death, the arbiter of death? Welcome to the origins of magic. A place of no name, but a graveyard for you." The Elder calmly vocalized as he equipped his wand.

As the four elements danced around the emerald-eyed individual. Lord Trenaver admired his nemesis's bearing. Wasn't this the man who tutored and guided him in the arts of magic. Touted as the second coming of Harry Potter, and possessing greater wisdom than the legendary Dumbledore. Why did he choose to learn the art of demons, he never truly knew. Who was right and who was wrong never mattered, only victor. Lord Trenaver recalled the wizards that died beneath his hand. Some righteous in morals, some wickedly evil. What determined their deaths was the difference in ideals. Handling his wand as he withdrew it from his white robes. He braced himself for the greatest battle of his life, and the greatest showdown that'll never be witnessed nor recorded in the annals of history against the greatest magician to ever live.

The Elder; Maximus Potter, the last descendant of Potter.