I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 388 Undead Legion

The high priest of Lavieu continued his seductive voice, "Think about it, I urge you to think about it carefully."

You all saw the disguise I just wore.

That's what you'll look like forty or fifty years from now.

Aged, decaying, haggard, and old, with skin like dry, withered wood. Hair sparse and gray, and you must maintain this appearance for at least a hundred years.

Look at Miss Granger now.

You're her boyfriend, right?

Her lips twitched, but she still managed a forced smile. "What beautiful faces, whether it's you or her, how long can you maintain this appearance?"

Ten years later, her face will lose its luster; twenty years later, wrinkles will appear; and thirty years later, it will become so loose and unrecognizable.

Even if you don't think about yourself, think about the other person.

Is it right?"

"How about it? From now on, I will take care of all the sacrificial materials for the two of you. You just need to keep a youthful mindset." High Priest Lavieu's words were like a sharp sword touching honey.

She was slowly tearing apart their consciences. Yet, the desires in their hearts were stirred by the honey, its sweetness creating a delightful taste in their mouths.

If it were an ordinary person, their tongue would probably have already pressed against their lips, and they would have unconsciously opened their mouth to answer.

Tsk tsk—

Unfortunately, she was facing Irving.

"Forever young. Tsk tsk—what a silver tongue you have." Owen's lips curled into a disdainful smile. "You mean a monster made of scraps of flesh pieced together to resemble a human?"

He looked the High Priest Lavieu up and down.

Just thinking about it conjures up images of that beautiful body with its grotesque, twisted flesh and blood vessels that look like earthworms.

He felt a chill.

"A monster?" Lavieu looked down at his abdomen, at the wound that was almost completely filled with new flesh.

"Is this considered a monster?" She looked up again. "This body?"

She suddenly took off her robe, revealing the lining that clung tightly to her body.

She had a slender and well-proportioned figure; narrow and straight shoulders; a slender waist with beautiful curves; round and perky buttocks; and long and shapely legs.

His entire body resembled a meticulously crafted work of art.

It also resembles a flower bud about to bloom.

She looked both elegant and vibrant, truly a beauty among men.

Lavieu stood proudly at the top of the stairs, arms outstretched, like a product on display, saying, "With such an appearance, a beating heart, and a warm touch, it can easily have children and leave offspring."

As for what you call inner qualities—haha—kid, you're still too young.

This is a world that judges by appearances.

Who cares what's under that skin—internal organs or something else?

As long as it has normal 'functions', how is it different from a normal person?

Internal?

If you mean the spiritual level.

Well—your Miss Granger is the savior of the world, who would question such an inner quality, who would dare to question it?

monster?

This is just a prejudice of the world; I prefer to call it high efficiency!

It heals wounds quickly, has no physiological weaknesses, and makes physical strain impossible. This is rare. How so?

There's a word among Muggles that I think is quite apt.

--evolution!"

"This is the evolution of wizards! And the evolution of humanity!" She spread her arms even wider.

His tone grew increasingly louder.

The seductive rhetoric grew increasingly intense.

"Gentlemen, I really can't think of any reason why you would refuse."

"Capture me, and all you'll get is a Merlin Medal and endless pursuit. Let me go, and you'll have everything."

She finished speaking.

His eyes were fixed intently on the two young wizards not far away.

Rationally speaking...

The benefits she outlined were simply too great.

In this transaction, conscience is the least valuable thing, justice can be abandoned, and in the face of infinite life and an eternally young body, you can even switch bodies to play with. When you get tired of one body, you can switch to another.

Those pieces of flesh and blood are the real body; the outer shell is everywhere in the world.

Find someone you like, control your flesh and blood to enter their body, replace them, take their place.

Faced with such a choice, most people probably wouldn't hesitate.

Even if the bright future that woman described was actually full of crises, there were still plenty of people who chose her.

but--

To reiterate—today—she should never have met Irving.

Irving knew perfectly well about her so-called methods.

On the island of giants—the city of Ionia—this technology is clearly preserved in a large underground warehouse.

Irving knew all too well the evil methods involved.

Not to mention that by doing so, you would be offering your soul to an external god.

The mere act of constantly replacing and consuming other people's souls, the very memories of those souls, can drive you mad.

This is why the high priest chose bodies exclusively from teenagers, or even younger. She was doing this to avoid letting the memories of others corrupt her will.

Children have fewer and lower-quality memories than adults.

But—no matter how small the amount, it adds up, and eventually a person will go crazy.

This will likely take about four or five hundred years.

So no matter how eloquent she was, Irving just ignored her and thought she was talking nonsense.

How can you even present such garbage technology?

They can't even filter their own souls; they're not afraid of being laughed at if this gets out.

But just as he was preparing to end this pointless deal...

The strange touch from his left hand made him pause for a moment.

Then Owen turned his head incredulously to look at Hermione beside him.

No way!

Miss Granger, were you persuaded?

Feeling the gaze directed at her, Hermione looked up and met it.

She knew that Irving might have misunderstood.

Yes—she did have a slight flutter in her heart, but not because of her eternally young body or anything like that.

The priest opposite him had clearly confused himself with Owen. He was the true inheritor of ancient magic.

She was also worried about Irving.

Consider that he has been injured twice in one year. And both times were serious.

He was in a coma for several months once, and then disappeared completely the other time.

She was afraid—

They were even somewhat tempted by the healing methods the priest had described.

In the not-too-distant future, I may find it useful.

wrong

Hermione shook her head.

Judging from the priest's words while she was lying on the altar, it seems that her so-called healing method is to kill another person and then use that person's soul and flesh to replenish herself.

I must never kill one person in order to save another.

She immediately stopped the thought in her mind.

A terrible idea.

"Are you alright?" Owen asked in a low voice.

"It's nothing!" Hermione turned her head slightly away.

"Hmm—okay, staying young forever is definitely a big draw for girls. But if you want, I actually have something better."

He assumed Hermione was blinded by her youth and beauty.

As soon as he finished speaking, he naturally received a glare from Hermione.

She glared at him. "I don't care about that kind of thing. I'm here for someone else."

"Actually, I care quite a bit." Irving assumed she was just being shy.

"To think that Miss Granger has grown old is simply unforgivable. In my heart, you'll always be fifteen."

"I'm sixteen!" Hermione wanted nothing more than to bite him right now.

She was clearly worried about him.

Now, it's become that I can't control my desires.

"Oh—I forgot you turned a year older than me."

"A year older than you? You think I'm too old?"

"."

Okay, if I keep talking, I'll become a jerk.

Irving quickly stopped talking, saying, "We can talk about this properly later."

"Ahem!" Owen raised his head and looked at High Priest Lavieu, who sat calmly on the high platform.

The two young wizards whispered for so long; they must have been discussing something.

And as long as there is discussion, it means that you have succeeded.

Because if the other party really is one of those moral saints.

That would have been a firm refusal from the very beginning.

"That's a brilliant deal," Owen said with a smile.

"But we refuse."

"Alright—then we'll meet again sometime. I'll let you know later—what did you say?" High Priest Lavieu's expression changed drastically; she thought she had misheard.

"I said, we refuse!" Irving repeated.

"Refuse? You actually refused?" Lavieu's gaze darkened, turning sinister.

She looked coldly at Owen and asked, "Why?"

"Because—" Owen glanced at Hermione out of the corner of his eye, "I have someone better."

"ha?"

High Priest Lavieu was almost laughing in anger at such a response.

"You have something better?" she retorted angrily.

What arrogant words!

These two young wizards, whose combined age was probably not even thirty, were so arrogant and presumptuous as to claim that they had skills far superior to hers.

This was the biggest insult she had ever heard in all these years.

"Since that's the case—"

High Priest Lavieu gave a cold laugh.

Then, the wand in her hand disappeared.

Instead, a cane was used.

It is exactly the same as the wooden stake carved with a monster that is stuck in the very center of the altar.

No—that's the wooden stake on the altar.

Because the altar is now empty.

"Two hundred years, I haven't fought with anyone." High Priest Lavieu raised her strange staff—or rather, what it should be called—into the air.

Rings of runes formed dazzling halos that floated out from the surface of the staff.

"Most of the people I meet are smart," she continued. "I never expected to run into two idiots today."

"You'll regret this."

"I will regret giving up such a great opportunity, and I will regret even more that I am going to be an enemy of God."

As soon as she finished speaking, the magic rings surrounding her suddenly lit up.

Immediately afterwards, a thick gray mist billowed out of her pocket.

Within this mist, it seemed as if the sounds of clashing swords could be heard.

Soon, figures appeared, their faces twisted and ferocious, their gazes cold and merciless, like ice from an abyss. Their bodies were ashen, gleaming with a grayish-white luster, like steel.

Cold and terrifying.

"A corpse?"

"Something's not right—" Owen noticed that all of those 'corpses' were holding magic wands.

Unlike European wands, some are staffs, while others are bells.

Some even used their bare hands to make various hand gestures for casting spells.

These are all wizards.

And it can even cast spells?

"Is this... a spirit? A living dead?"

Irving is confused.

Because before the surrounding air became even heavier and more oppressive, a curse had already descended upon them.

"Can it really cast spells?"

Irving's eyes widened.

This guy—a necromancer?

"Ironclad Protection!"

Irving drew a blue curtain to block out the chaotic spells.

"Okay—they're playing a summoner build."

The next second, he entered the battle alone.

"All petrified"

"shattered to pieces"

"The Divine Edge Without a Shadow"

"Armor Counterattack"

The spell, blindingly bright like lightning, hurtled towards the undead.

Irving strolled leisurely as he approached step by step.

Every now and then, undead were sent flying by his counterattacks.

Their spells, however, were completely reflected in all directions.

The basement walls suffered another blow; the curse struck them like a cannonball, shattering them and sending rubble flying everywhere.

The one who started it all stared intently at the large group of undead high priests.

"No—how could this be?"

High Priest Lavieu stared incredulously at Owen, who was closing in step by step.

Terrified, her right foot, now out of her control, caused her to stumble and fall onto the stairs.

She still held onto her staff, but a huge storm was raging in her heart.

No wizard has ever been able to defeat ten opponents single-handedly.

Wizard battles are not Muggle fights.

Ten Muggles attack one.

Even if that person gets hit a few times, they won't be seriously injured. In fact, your attacks won't even be able to break through the defenses of those strong men.

But wizards are different—no matter how powerful a wizard is, if struck by a spell, they will fall to the ground and be captured.

No matter how focused a person is, it is impossible to face the attack of ten enemies without making a single mistake.

Before her eyes—although her undead army casts spells much less frequently than the living, there were still twenty or thirty undead standing there.

Quantity is sufficient to make up for the lack of quality.

"How did Hogwarts teach you, and why? Are all the young wizards there geniuses?" High Priest Lavigne questioned, the runes covering his staff forming a ring once more.

This time, the French Ring shone with brilliant golden light.

Then, golden swords shot out from these magic rings.

Its power far surpasses the curses of the dead.

"Flashback!" Irving remained silent.

The wand glowed with ripples like water.

Then a phantom image of him appeared on the spot.

The illusory image casts a force field spell.

He deflected the golden sword.

He himself, under Sirocco's illusionary teleportation, distorted space and arrived directly behind High Priest Lavieu.

She was slow to react.

Irving, of course, wouldn't give her the slightest chance.

A strange green light suddenly appeared.