Hogwarts Raven

Chapter 371-370: Ian's Influence on History

Torrential rain poured down on the desolate landscape.

The muddy ground gleamed a ghastly white in the flashes of lightning. Ian and Cam had barely caught their breath as they gained a foothold outside the city when a chilling cold swept over them from behind.

"Found you!"

In the rain, a scarlet figure emerged from a crack.

The Ghost Bride.

She dragged the five black coffins, each step causing frost to form on the ground, as if death itself was approaching them. Her red veil fluttered in the gale, her gaping maw slightly open, her red eyes locked on Ian, like a hunter eyeing its fleeing prey.

"She...she's caught up with us?!" Kam's voice trembled, and he almost collapsed to the ground. "Even Apparition couldn't shake her off?!"

Ian's expression was grave. He had thought that the distance outside the city would be enough to shake her off, but her presence seemed to transcend the limitations of space—she wasn't "chasing," but rather "inevitably arriving."

“She doesn’t rely on speed or tracking,” Ian whispered. “She’s ‘defined’ as someone who must find me. As long as I’m on this land, she will appear.”

The ghost bride raised her hand, and blood streaks, like whips, tore through the rain curtain, aiming straight for Ian's throat.

In this regard.

Ian remained calm and composed.

He is a wizard with a trump card.

And that's not the only trump card.

Ian knew that if he used his trump card, he could get rid of his current troubles. However, seeing that the ghost bride was catching up, he still wanted to use conventional methods to study the method of creating the ghost bride.

Therefore.

The ghost bride's shrill scream tore through the night sky, her rotting wedding dress churning like a living thing in the moonlight. Ian could sense the surrounding spacetime structure distorting—the embryo was forcibly altering the laws of reality through some hidden connection to strengthen its minions. Clearly, the other side was also eyeing the amount the legendary wizard could offer.

“Mr. Ian!” Cam weakly grasped his arm, the young man’s face now covered in golden lines. “She’s going to—”

The words have not yet fallen.

The ghost bride's figure suddenly split into seven blurry phantoms, flanking her from different directions. Every movement she made left trails of golden sand in the air.

Those tiny particles are suspended, forming a three-dimensional surrounding net.

Seeing this, Ian gave a soft shout.

"Wall of Flames!"

He swung his wand fiercely, and the ground exploded with a deafening roar. A sea of ​​fire, ten meters high, shot into the sky, its flames raging and its heat intense, instantly splitting the entire wilderness in two.

The flames, infused with ancient incantations by Ian, were enough to incinerate souls. The ghost bride stood before the sea of ​​fire, her red veil billowing in the heat. Without hesitation, she stepped directly into the inferno. The flames consumed her body; her wedding dress instantly charred, her skin peeled away, and her crown melted. Yet, her body continued to advance through the flames, black mist gushing from her wounds, constantly repairing them. Her red eyes flickered in the firelight, like a beacon of hell.

She wasn't burned to death, nor did she slow down. When she emerged from the inferno, she had already returned to her original form, and the anti-magic effects that Ian had mixed into his fire magic failed to work.

"Fierce flames engulf the heavens!"

Ian's wand drew a fiery blue ring.

This was no ordinary Fiendfire; it was a modified version infused with Ian's System magic. The flames possessed an eerie bright blue hue, melting even the space itself into glassy crystals. The ghostly bride's phantom lingered for a moment before the wall of fire. Ian seized the opportunity to pull Cam up, his wand tracing an apparition's path through the air.

But just as space began to distort, seven golden threads pierced through the wall of fire like lightning and precisely wrapped around Ian's ankles!
"The groom wants to see you." The seven ghost brides spoke at the same time, their voices overlapping to create a chilling reverberation.

Ian felt a chill creep up his spine from his ankle. The golden threads weren't just simple physical bindings; they were rewriting his body's state—attempting to "synchronize" him with the Ghost Bride's homologous substance!

"Don't even think about it!" Ian's wand erupted with a blinding purple light. "Time Stripping!"

The moment the purple light collided with the golden threads, a strange fold of spacetime was created. Ian saw his left hand suddenly become translucent, while Cam's hair was turning white and then black at a visible speed. The ghost bride's figure split and reformed in this distorted spacetime, like a reflection in countless mirrors.

But this brief respite was fleeting. The core of the Ghost Bride—the crystal embedded in her chest—suddenly burst forth with blood-red light, forcibly "smoothing" all the anomalies in spacetime.

Ian's wand made a disgruntled sound.

"Useless, useless."

The ghost brides chanted in unison, and golden sand gushed from their bodies, forming complex three-dimensional runes in the air—a cracked version of every spell Ian had used before! Cam suddenly coughed violently, spitting out no longer blood, but a mixture of golden sand and blue crystals.

"What's wrong with me?"

He was terrified.

"It seems they don't intend to let you go either."

Ian knew that Cam was also experiencing some kind of "synchronization" effect. The ghost brides simultaneously raised their arms, their wedding gowns fluttering even without wind. Ian could feel the surrounding reality collapsing, some higher-dimensional force rewriting the laws of physics, trying to imprison them forever in this cycle until they became like the ghost brides.

it's time.

Ian took a deep breath and suddenly pressed his wand against his temple. This action caused the ghost brides to freeze for a moment, as if unable to comprehend their prey's self-destructive behavior.

She probably felt that Ian wanted to understand himself.

however.

Is this really the case?
of course not!

Ian gritted his teeth, his mind made up. He knew that conventional magic was ineffective against her. Her existence was anchored by a higher order of rules—she had to catch up with him. This was the "mission" bestowed upon her by the embryonic form of the evil god, the "definition" of her existence. To break this definition, one must break the "definition" itself.

Ian certainly possesses power at the same level.

“Those who pursue shall not touch what they are pursuing.”

Those who seek will ultimately lose their way in the pursuit.

I declare: It is a paradox that she can catch up with me.

Therefore, this claim of 'catching up' is impossible.

Ian closed his eyes and chanted softly. He used his paradoxical divine authority from the dark wizard, which was also one of his trump cards. As soon as he finished speaking, a dark blue light suddenly burst forth, spreading like ripples throughout the entire space.

In an instant, the world seemed to stand still.

The ghost bride halted. She stood in the center of the sea of ​​fire, her crimson eyes still locked on Ian, her blood-red mouth open as if to roar. However, her body could not move forward even a single step. She raised her hand, blood shooting out, only to twist and disintegrate in mid-air, as if crashing into an invisible wall of logic.

She tried to detour, to teleport, to tear through space—but no matter what she did, her "arrival" was denied by some higher force. Her existence remained intact, her mission remained, but the act of "catching up with Ian" was now defined as logically impossible.

Like a "square circle" or a "moving stillness"—her actions themselves have become an untenable paradox.

"What...what kind of magic is this?!" Kam was dumbfounded.

“Divine authority,” Ian answered in a low voice, his face pale. Clearly, casting this spell had greatly depleted the opponent's resources, since the opponent was linked to a false sun god.

Even if it's false, it's still a false god, above Ian. The moment the last syllable fell, the entire spacetime seemed to be paused. The ghost brides froze in mid-air, their pouncing postures frozen, their golden sands suspended in the instant they scattered, even the wind stopped flowing.

“It’s not power, it’s ‘definition.’ I’ve redefined ‘her relationship with me’—she can exist, she can be pursued, but the act of ‘catching up’ is forbidden by the logic of the universe.” Ian didn’t become dejected because of this; he even had the energy to explain to Cam.

The ghost bride struggled frantically in the sea of ​​fire, a hint of confusion flashing in her red eyes for the first time. She raised her hand, pointing at Ian, and blood shot out again, twisting into a strange ring in mid-air before dissipating. She couldn't understand. She only knew she "had to chase," but didn't know why she "couldn't catch him."

Within the realm of paradoxes.

Only Ian and Cam were still able to move. The young man stared in disbelief, his lips trembling but unable to speak. Ian offered no explanation, but grabbed his arm.

"Apparition!"

This space jump was smoother than any before. There was no resistance, no interference; it was as if the entire universe was making way for their escape. When their vision cleared again, the two were standing on a cliff on the west bank of the Nile, the silhouette of Memphis in the distance resembling a sleeping behemoth in the moonlight.

"They," Kam slumped to the ground, pointing to the opposite bank.

Even across the entire Nile, seven golden points of light could be seen flashing wildly above the city. The ghost brides were clearly still trying to give chase, but some unseen force held them in place—every time they moved a distance away from the city, they were instantly "reset" back to their starting point.

Like ants trapped on a Möbius strip.

Under anger.

The ghost brides roared and merged back into one entity. However, even so, it was useless. This time, the ghost bride could not reach Ian and Cam's location no matter what she did. A force was influencing her, preventing her from meeting Ian—Ian's equally supreme divine power.

“The paradox has taken effect.” Ian examined the wand, now only half intact, his voice weary but tinged with satisfaction. “Until someone deciphers my definition, she can never truly get close to us.”

Hear the words.

Kam huddled in the crevice, but his gaze never left Ian—a look Ian had seen in too many people’s eyes, a look that was a mixture of awe and fear.

Cam had previously thought Ian was a legendary wizard and had always held him in high esteem, but judging from what had just happened, Cam knew that he might have underestimated Ian.

"Which god are you incarnation?" Kam finally couldn't help but ask, his voice as dry as the desert wind. This was the only possibility he could think of.

Otherwise, it cannot explain why Ian possesses divine authority.

"Ok?"

Ian was sketching the temple's structure in the sand with his broken staff when he heard this, his fingers paused. He looked up, the morning light reflecting in his grey-green eyes, revealing a hint of helpless smile.

“Cam, I have a fact to tell you.” He flicked his finger, and the pattern on the sand automatically reformed into the Hogwarts crest. “Are wizards some inconvenient beings like gods?”

The young man was clearly stunned. He opened his mouth, his gaze shifting between the broken staff and the sand painting: "But you used divine authority to define the paradox. This is clearly something only the Nine Pillars of Destiny can do."

“That’s the problem,” Ian interrupted, tapping Cam’s forehead with his wand. “You’ve etched the word 'impossible' deep into your mind.”

The river breeze suddenly shifted, bringing with it the smell of burning from the direction of the distant temple.

Ian stood up, the hem of his black robe sweeping across the sand, erasing all the patterns. He gazed at the city across the river shrouded in a pillar of crimson light, his voice as calm as if explaining the most basic principles of transfiguration: "The power of gods originates from faith, therefore it must be perfect, it must conform to expectations—this is precisely the greatest shackle."

Have you ever wondered why deities need believers? Why do they receive sacrifices, prayers, and offerings? Because they are defined by 'faith.' Their power comes from 'being believed,' and their existence depends on 'being worshipped.' Once no one believes in them, they vanish, like ashes in the wind.

“Gods are fixed. Once they are given a certain ‘divinity’—god of war, god of wisdom, god of death—they can only ever be that ‘god’. They cannot change, cannot question, cannot doubt. They are imprisoned by their own ‘divinity’, like prisoners locked in a golden cage.”

"This is the price that comes with gain. The gods have chosen this path, and they must bear the price of this path, trapping themselves within their own divinity."

"There are advantages and disadvantages, and the disadvantages actually outweigh the advantages."

He turned and looked directly at Cam.

“But wizards are different. We embrace error, explore contradictions, and dance on the edge of paradox. It is this uncertainty that brings us closer to the truth than any god.”

"Moreover, we have unlimited possibilities; all we need is to believe, to believe that we ourselves are the true power," Ian said, expressing the philosophy he had come up with along the way.

"What?! Is that even a saying?"

Kam's eyes widened. He instinctively reached for the Twilight Hermit's badge in his pocket; the sunset pattern on it was slightly warm.

"Are you saying that magic itself is more powerful than gods?"

“I mean, gods are just some powerful form of existence.” Ian’s broken staff suddenly burst forth with silver light, outlining a model of a quantum cloud in the air.

"And the most fascinating thing about this universe is—"

The clouds split and reformed, transforming into various cosmic essences, all changing under Ian's influence. "A wizard, as an observer, can alter the properties of the observed object."

This is what makes wizards different. Every wizard possesses a portion of the Creator's power, a truth that many wizards themselves do not understand, but which Ian has uncovered.

just now.

Ah, he passed it on without reservation to a wizard who was actually younger than himself.

“I see… Actually, we in the Twilight Hermits have similar ideas, but you seem to have explained it more clearly.” Cam slumped on the ice, still catching his breath, but his gaze never left Ian. He looked at his companion with eyes that were no longer just simple awe, but almost worship.

Cam felt a surge of warmth rise within him. He had always believed that the ultimate goal of magic was to become a god, to gain supreme power. But Ian told him—true magic is to never become a 'god'.

What conclusion could be more exciting for a wizard than this, especially when it comes from a wizard who manipulates divine authority? It makes one want to go back and believe it!
Kam finally understood.

He looked at Ian, his eyes no longer filled with awe, but with a light of awakening.

perhaps.

The history of wizards.

This is to usher in a new chapter.

(End of this chapter)