Hogwarts Raven

Chapter 446, Section 445: Malice in the Dark

They defeated that indescribable monster, twisted from a fallen god.

Ian stood in absolute darkness, his gaze passing over the clearly defined boundary and landing on the chaotic space that had returned to "peace".

The filthy swamp writhed slowly in the dark purple light, exuding an aura of death and annihilation.

"Science has once again helped me defeat evil."

The argument that Ian's genes have limits has been proven true, and he's in a good mood.

He slowly turned around, facing the all-consuming, seemingly annihilating darkness behind him. Curiosity gnawed at his heart like cat claws, but reason was frantically sounding the alarm. What was hidden here was enough to terrify even that near-immortal monster, preventing it from crossing the boundary.

You can imagine how dangerous it is.

"Hey……"

Ian sighed softly.

He truly didn't want to set foot in this unknown territory unless absolutely necessary.

The ancient corridor outside, which seemed to have no end, was eerie, but at least it didn't have that heart-pounding, instinctive sense of repulsion.

He hesitated for a moment, but finally stepped forward and crossed that invisible boundary once again, returning from absolute darkness to the chaotic space with faint light.

"That's disgusting."

Ian carefully avoided the enormous, still slowly bubbling pool of filthy mud on the ground, and quickly walked out of the stone gate carved with an eerie vortex pattern, following the path he had come from.

Outside the door, there was still that ancient passageway that seemed endless and was so vast it was beyond human scale.

The bluestone path stretches endlessly forward and backward, flanked by rough rock walls that seem to have no top, covered with incomprehensible patterns that are impossible to decipher.

"If there's another way out, that would be great." Ian, unwilling to give up, began exploring again. He cast a more refined and wider-ranging detection spell than before.

The "Magic Weasel" surged like a tide in all directions of the passage, trying to find any unusual energy fluctuations, spatial folds, or hidden portals.

He flew at high speed in one direction for hundreds of kilometers, but found nothing but monotonous walls and ground. He changed direction, but the result was the same.

Ian even tried attacking the walls and the ground to see if he could force something open, but the ancient materials were so solid that they couldn't even leave a trace.

All the probe results pointed to the same conclusion—aside from the stone gate he had just left through, leading to that chaotic space, there were no other branches, portals, or slightly unusual areas within this enormous passage. It was like a maze with a predetermined, single destination.

Elsewhere, there are only infinitely long pipes.

"Similar to the map generation technique used in the Minecraft game?"

"It seems that's the only way."

Ian stopped in the middle of the passage, looking at the endless darkness in front of him and the only stone door behind him. In the end, he could only helplessly admit the truth.

His caution was ultimately no match for his fear of being trapped in eternity.

To find a way out of this place, or to completely eliminate the hidden dangers here, he must turn back and face the darkness where even light cannot exist.

Returning to the stone gate, Ian glanced at the still-wriggling but lifeless filth inside, his expression tinged with a hint of melancholy.

"It would be terrible if I became like that," he muttered to himself, a hint of apprehension about the unknown, but more so a resolute determination to burn his bridges.

Without further hesitation, Ian took a deep breath and stepped into the absolute darkness once more. As soon as he entered, the deathly stillness of isolation enveloped him again. Undeterred, he raised his wand once more, pouring his immense magical power and unwavering willpower into it without reservation.

"Fluorescent shimmer—ultimate brilliance!"

Ian activated the simple illumination spell almost as if he were casting a powerful offensive spell.

The tip of the staff instantly burst forth with a dazzling light comparable to a small sun. The light was so intense that it even contained a trace of Ian's understanding of the rules of "light"!

And the light of his soul.

However, this dazzling light, enough to illuminate a city, was devoured the moment it appeared, as if by countless unseen, greedy mouths. The light dimmed and contracted rapidly at a visible speed, and finally went out completely without a sound in less than a tenth of a second.

Light cannot bloom if it is not fundamentally present.

It seemed to be the very essence of this darkness.

It is the absolute opposite of "light".

It is the abyss of nothingness of "existence".

There was even an invisible, icy "wind" blowing through his soul, giving him the illusion that even the flame of hope in his heart would be extinguished.

"A wind that can even extinguish the light of the soul..." Ian put down his wand, completely abandoning his plan to provide illumination. He could only rely on his other senses.

The ground beneath his feet wasn't entirely empty; there was a solid "sense of presence," allowing him to walk. However, sight was ineffective, hearing was dead, and even smell and taste were meaningless here. He could only rely on touch, magical perception, and most importantly—mental intuition—to explore.

It's dark here.

Even if Ian released his mental energy, he couldn't get any feedback, and it might even contaminate his mental energy, so he didn't dare to try it easily.

That's why the magic of the magic weasel is completely useless here. He stood quietly in place, closed his eyes, and focused all his mental perception on expanding his senses.

There was no problem sensing the area around his body, and he could quickly withdraw his mental energy if needed. But soon, a chilling sensation, like cold vines, began to entwine around him.

"what's the situation?"

He "senses" countless gazes. These are not gazes in the physical sense, but rather a kind of invisible, intangible "gaze" filled with extreme malice and twisted desire. They surge from all directions, like countless cold needles, trying to pierce his mental defenses and drill into the depths of his consciousness.

These "gazes" contain an unspeakable pollution.

They made no sound, yet seemed to be silently howling in chaotic babbling, attempting to shatter his reason and stir up the deepest fears and madness within him.

"The deeper I went, the stronger this feeling became, meaning the greater the malice of the contamination in trying to corrupt me." Ian immediately understood. In this absolute darkness where directions were indistinguishable, the intensity of this unsettling feeling of being spied on became the only signpost guiding our way.

The core of pollution, the source of everything, must lie in the direction where malice is most intense!
"So, all I need to do is head in that direction." He steadied himself and activated his brain-blocking technique to its maximum, like building an indestructible lighthouse in the midst of the most turbulent storm.

Then, Ian boldly strode forward, resolutely heading towards the depths where malice was most concentrated and where the "gaze" was most intense and piercing. He walked for an unknown amount of time—perhaps an hour, perhaps a day—in this darkness where the concept of time was lost, Ian had no way of knowing.

As he ventured deeper, the invisible erosion became more concrete and more dangerous. The dense pollution was no longer content with mere observation; it began to act directly on his senses.

He tried to break down his nerves from the inside.

The hallucination has begun.

The surrounding darkness seemed to recede, and Ian found himself in an ancient, resplendent, brightly lit hall. Long tables were laden with a dazzling array of delicacies, their enticing aromas filling the air. Many people were there, some he knew, some he didn't—Dumbledore, Snape, Hermione, even his long-deceased parents whom he had never met.

Everyone sat at the table, smiling and raising their glasses to him.

"Is this an indication that I crave family and friendship?" Ian wasn't experiencing this kind of illusion for the first time, so he remained calm and made his judgment.

Everything around seemed wonderful.

However, upon closer inspection, he discovered that everything was distorted, and that the food was slowly wriggling, containing countless tiny maggots and rotting entrails; the smiles of his relatives and friends were stiff and eerie, and their skin was peeling off piece by piece, revealing pale, wriggling tentacles and empty eye sockets underneath.

“Disgusting~” Ian was actually calm inside, but he still used reduplication to ease the atmosphere. He looked at the acquaintances, who called out to him in a sticky, slippery tone.

"Come, Ian, join this eternal feast..."

this moment.

A very peculiar putrid smell permeated the air.

Very sweet.

It seemed to be leading people astray.

"That's it? That's it? You managed to corrupt that ancient god? Even that ancient god isn't immune." Ian's eyes were icy, and his mental energy began to fluctuate without him even touching his wand.

"All Curses End - Ian Version!"

The lavish feast and decaying relatives and friends before my eyes vanished instantly like a burst bubble, and the surroundings returned to deathly darkness, but the cloying stench still seemed to linger at the tip of my nose.

and.

This was definitely not a one-off attack.

As Ian continued his exploration, whether the target was trying to hinder him or desperately trying to assimilate him, the contamination coalesced into a new illusion.

The darkness transformed into an endless bookshelf, upon which lay countless spellbooks and scrolls shimmering with forbidden knowledge. Ian saw tomes recording the secrets of immortality, runes depicting the rules of creation, and even the ultimate answer he had been searching for: the essence of time and paradox!

They seemed within reach; he could gain boundless knowledge and power simply by reaching out.

"Hmm, this trick will definitely work against Voldemort."

Ian gave his assessment.

As he focused on the words, the characters seemed to come alive, twisting into tiny, eye-like tentacles that tried to burrow into his brain along his line of sight! A deep, insanely intelligent murmur resounded directly in his head, promising omniscience but also foreshadowing the complete annihilation of reason.

Fortunately, Ian was prepared for this. He suppressed his instinctive urge to absorb knowledge, abruptly closed his "eyes" to sever the mental connection, and calmed his mind.

The path I seek is not this path of madness. The illusion of the bookshelf collapsed, but the allure of knowledge and the lingering afterglow of madness still made his temples throb.

"Little trick, trash."

Ian continued on.

They were utterly fearless.

then.

The third round of attacks arrived as expected.

Ian suddenly felt his body begin to change uncontrollably. His fingers became thin and slippery, like tentacles; something seemed to wriggle beneath his skin, swelling up into fleshy growths—his vision split into countless images, watching his twisting and deforming body from every angle.

This is, of course, an illusion.

Most people would panic if they encountered this situation.

After all, it is an alienation of the self.

Something that countless wizards fear.

but.

Ian remained vigilant, so he didn't panic much. This deprived the illusion of enough nourishment, allowing Ian to maintain a clear head.

"Tsk tsk, this is digging into humanity's fear of change. Unfortunately, I am not afraid of change." Ian sighed softly, "seeing" his own reflection.

There are no longer humans inside.

Instead, it transformed into the prototype of that monster from before.

Even more distorted and indescribable.

A seductive voice resonated within him, as if it were his own: "Look, this is the real you... Embrace it, and gain true power and freedom..."

A surge of intense nausea and a conflict with self-awareness overwhelmed me.

Ian held fast to his clear mind.

Reprimand him softly.

"I am who I am! Ian! A wizard who seeks the truth of magic! Not such filth!" Ian anchored his invincibility. He then forcefully controlled those "alienated" illusions, imagining them being peeled away like filth. Then, the illusions shattered once more in a fierce mental struggle.

This is definitely not the last time we'll launch a sneak attack.

Go further in.

The more frequently the hallucinations occur.

Time and again, all sorts of terrifying hallucinations followed, each attempting to strike at Ian’s deepest fears, desires, and weaknesses.

They are terrifyingly real, almost blurring the lines between reality and fiction.

but.

“These are not what I fear. It seems you can’t even see into my heart. You can only try to corrupt me with probability, which exposes your own weakness.”

Ian judged the depths of darkness.

His mind was like steel forged through countless trials; no matter how bizarre and fantastical the illusions or how pervasive the pollution, he steadfastly maintained his self-awareness.

It kept all the erosion and whispers outside the barrier of the soul.

And so, Ian shattered countless illusions, and his spirit felt more exhausted than ever before, as if he had been trudging through a muddy abyss for centuries.

Since the invincible mind remains as it always has, none of the illusions can break down Ian's inner defenses, and the corruption naturally cannot erode Ian along the path of the breach.

Having an unshakable heart is also a quality of Ravenclaw students.

"Don't you have any other tricks? If you don't have any other tricks, then save your energy. I've come to you. Using this trick on me over and over again is meaningless."

Ian continued to speak into the darkness.

He believed that the other party would definitely be able to hear and understand his voice—having absorbed the knowledge of that fallen god with whom he could communicate, the other party would naturally also possess that god's knowledge and prophecies.

The malice and contamination grew stronger as Ian moved forward, just as he felt the malicious gaze and hallucinations reaching their peak.

suddenly!

All the malice, all the polluting whispers, all the suffocating sense of being spied on, vanished in an instant, like the receding tide!
Moreover, the absolute, all-consuming darkness around them seemed to be diluted, gradually becoming... hazy and gray.

(End of this chapter)