American comics: From Hogwarts to God on Earth

The scene was sealed off by magic. Not even a beetle, let alone a fly, could leave without the wizards' permission.

"Keep an eye on all living things and don't let them leave!" The mad wizard ignored everyone's objections and forcibly ordered everyone to dig three feet into the ground, and even Muggles had no choice but to obey.

After a long while, the Muggles and wizards still hadn't found anything, and the old man was getting angry. But the wizard glared fiercely at everyone present and said angrily, "Do you think I'm lying to you? Were the reports of documents being stolen from various regions recently a hoax?"

"It's true that someone is watching us." The old man nodded. "But aren't you being a little too nervous?"

"I was too nervous?" The wizard grinned, his face contorted in a grimace, his features contorted, his eyes bulging like burning embers, as if they were about to pop out of their sockets. "Those idiots have already laid countless traps, how could they still have stolen from us?"

Before anyone could answer, he said softly, "If it were just an invisibility cloak or a Disappearance Charm, your temperature-measuring contraption would have caught me too. I have reason to suspect that the one here is a Transfiguration master, an Animagus..."

Hearing this, everyone admitted that there was some truth to what the wizard had said. But then, the wizard looked at the old man with a gloomy expression and said in a low voice, "Since everyone is having such a hard time finding him, let's use that thing in your hand."

The surrounding wizards murmured amongst themselves, some protesting loudly, others thinking it was a good idea, but the majority were protesting. The leading wizard, of course, knew why; most wizards were terrified of the weapon. They feared that, powerless, they would be captured by these Muggles and suffer the same fate as the wizards in the bottle—becoming commodities worth two hundred grams of gold alive, and only fifty grams of gold dead.

"Enough!" the leading wizard roared, his face ashen, his eyes deep and unfathomable, the corners of his mouth slightly downturned. "If we don't capture that Animagus this time, our actions will be exposed sooner or later. Can you imagine the consequences for us if something like this happens?"

The consequences? The bosses behind these Muggles will treat them as temporary workers, using them as scapegoats. They'll go to jail, their wives will remarry, and their children might get involved in things they shouldn't. Even after their release, they'll have to pay child support for life, and they might even have to consider the possibility of being hunted down by those elusive wizards.

Wizards fared even worse; they might be imprisoned in Azkaban, with no hope of ever seeing the light of day again. Even if they miraculously escaped, they would be hunted down by other wizards. Keep in mind, they only considered pure-blood status when kidnapping wizards, not whether they were dark or white wizards. If they fell into the hands of a white wizard, it was simply death, but if they fell into the hands of a dark wizard…

They couldn't help but shudder. They weren't those Muggles; they knew those dark wizards very well. After all, in the methods of those dark wizards, slow slicing was considered an easy way to die.

The lead wizard seemed to have made a tremendous decision. His eyes widened, his gaze fierce, his teeth clenched, his face flushed red, and his hands clenched into fists as he roared, "Use it!"

The old man nodded, then pressed the light bulb at the top of the cigarette-shaped black object. An invisible magnetic field spread outwards, and wizards generally pointed their wands towards the sky. When the magnetic field reached the wands, the tips emitted several blinding beams of light before returning to their normal state.

In her despair, Rita began to transform back into human form. Her originally small beetle body slowly expanded, and her hard shell gradually softened and cracked. Her limbs rapidly extended, and fingers and toes differentiated from the beetle's feet. Her head also changed rapidly, her features gradually becoming clear, and her original compound eyes disappeared, turning into a pair of lively human eyes.

"Uh... hi?" Looking at the terrifying wizards and Muggles around her, Rita managed a weak smile, a smile tinged with desolation. She could feel the magic that had been active within her body subsiding; no wonder all those wizards refused to let Muggles activate that thing.

She tried to use magic to trigger the button that could affect the door key, but unfortunately, she failed.

The lead wizard's lips curled slightly upwards, a sly glint in his eyes, his gaze fixed intently on the old man. He said nothing, but everyone knew what he was about to say.

I knew it, you old geezer.

Rita whirled around and sprinted forward, but after only a few steps, her ankle caught on a tree branch lying across the ground. She lurched forward, her hands unable to react in time, and crashed heavily to the ground, her knees and hands slamming into the hard surface. Several coin-sized stones embedded themselves in her knees, causing her to scream in pain.

"Grab her!" the old man said. The next moment, Rita felt a chill on her neck. She tried to run, but after a few steps, an overwhelming drowsiness washed over her.

Despair washed over her; it was all her fault. If only she hadn't investigated the disappearance, if only she had been more careful during her investigation, if only she hadn't come to witness the transaction herself, if only she hadn't questioned the unknown weapon in the Muggle's possession, if only she had been more decisive and chosen to leave…

There were too many "what ifs," but now everything was over, and anger, fear, and guilt welled up in her heart.

She quickly realized that Rune might be implicated, after all, she had given him the key, and with the wizards' help, those Muggles would soon figure out what it was. At this point, Rita could only pray that Rune wouldn't be so heartless, and then she drifted off to sleep.

After an unknown amount of time, Rita woke up again. The walls and floor of the room before her were covered with smooth white tiles, reflecting a blinding, cold light. On the ceiling, rows of fluorescent lights emitted a uniform, cold glow, illuminating the entire space as if it were daytime, and the iron bars also gleamed coldly under the light.

She got up and found herself lying on a dilapidated iron bed, all alone in the corner. The sheets were faded and gray, their original color unrecognizable. Beside her was a small wooden table and a chair, so rudimentary that there seemed to be no place for them. Through the narrow iron window, Rita could only see a small patch of hazy sky. A damp and cold wind blew in, making Rita shiver involuntarily.

Ignoring her nausea, she wrapped the sheet tightly around herself, and it took a while for her to warm up again. Rita then began searching her belongings, but unfortunately, her wand, buttons, crocodile skin bag, and the evidence of the missing person case inside were all taken away.

With her last hope, Rita tried casting a spell, but unfortunately, there was no response. She realized in despair that she was finished, utterly doomed.