American comics: From Hogwarts to God on Earth

When Rita was taken out of the prison, she didn't even react. However, she was startled when she was taken to an open area.

There stood many people, completely shrouded in black equipment. Their black tactical vests were laden with ammunition and various accessories, the metal buckles gleaming coldly in the dim light. Beneath their helmets, only a pair of icy eyes were visible, their pupils flashing with undeniable killing intent.

After Rita was brought in, the people separated in a robotic, uniform fashion, allowing her to see the arrangement in the middle—there was the button that could affect the door key, and an old man stood beside it. When this terrifying suspicion was confirmed, her legs suddenly went weak, as if her bones had been pulled out, and her body involuntarily sank downwards. Just then, a man grabbed her arm, pulled her forcefully, and forcibly lifted her up.

"Hello, reporter for the Daily Prophet, Transfiguration master, illegal Animagus, esteemed Ms. Rita Skeeter." The old man wore a kind smile, his slightly narrowed eyes gleaming with a gentle light. His silver hair was neatly combed, and his white beard was trimmed cleanly, making him appear like a deeply respected elder, inspiring a sense of closeness. However, his eyes were constantly scrutinizing Rita, as if calculating something.

"Hello..." Rita suppressed her fear and forced herself to look the old man in the eye.

The old man smiled slightly and said, "Since you're a master of Transfiguration, then you must already understand the essence of magic?" Rita swallowed hard, shook her head, and immediately added, "I really don't know, really..."

"Alas, what a pity..." The old man sighed softly, his eyes filled with regret and an undeniable anger. "You have clearly stepped into a realm that we can only dream of reaching in our entire lives, yet you have simply wasted your talents. You are unwilling to explore the essence of magic, nor are you willing to truly understand the principles by which spells work..."

As the old man said this, Rita inevitably drifted into memories. It was not long ago when she interviewed Dumbledore, the topic of which was how he viewed Rune, the youngest recipient of the Order of Merlin in recent years.

Dumbledore once said that Rune was one of the few wizards who was willing to delve into the essence of magic and truly understand the principles behind a spell's effectiveness. Therefore, he made rapid progress in the field of wandless and silent spellcasting. At least during Dumbledore's time at the academy, no wizard was as eager to ask "why" as he was; sometimes, even professors who had been immersed in the field of magic for decades were rendered speechless by his questions.

However, the old man didn't see Rita lost in memories, and continued, "You know what? Although we are what you call Muggles, our understanding of magic is far superior to yours."

The old man took out the familiar, cigarette-sized black cylinder: "Magic is actually somewhat similar to a magnetic field. Just as you can't use electrical appliances in a place with abundant magic, magic also can't be successfully condensed in places with strong magnetic fields. Based on this principle, we created this—a magnetic field generator, which can quickly..."

He turned to look at Rita and couldn't help but laugh. The woman stood there, her eyes vacant and lost, only responding with 'uh-huhs' and 'ah-ahs.' Clearly, she hadn't understood him. The old man sighed, "When Muggles are willing to delve into wizarding knowledge, while wizards are unwilling to truly understand Muggle knowledge, the battle is already decided."

Rita's face was ashen, her eyes filled with terror, and her body trembled slightly, as if she might collapse at any moment. But she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, and with a trembling voice, she still asked, "We won't lose, we still have Dumbledore..."

"Yes, yes, I know." The old man nodded. "Many people have said that before. That person seems to offer you some vague hope. Even if his magic can indeed break through the magnetic field, what about the rest of you?"

He sighed. "I've heard that many of you have difficulty even casting the Ironclad Spell?"

Rita wanted to say something, but ultimately said nothing—because the old man was right. Modern wizards are spoiled by their wands; most are happy to equate learning magic with learning spells, and only a few, like Snape, are willing to explore and contemplate the true nature of magic.

Magic, in its essence, remains complex, primitive, and difficult to control. The old man was right; the Muggles present likely possessed a greater understanding of magic than many actual wizards.

The old man chuckled, noticing something in her expression. "Look," he said, "most wizards can't actually handle magnetic fields, and the remaining few... I don't think they can't use... what's your currency called again? Oh right, Galleons! Many of those wizards can be bought off with Galleons. You see, since most wizards are wasting their talents, why not leave them to us? We can fully monetize their talents."

Realize?

"What does 'monetization' mean?" Rita asked timidly after hearing this.

"It's very simple." The old man's lips curled up slightly, and a smile slowly spread across his face, but there was no warmth in that smile; instead, it sent chills down one's spine. "Living wizards participate in our 'little experiments,' and the dead ones, of course, are used for dissection."

Even if Rita was naive, she could understand the old man's malice. What happened to those living wizards? What exactly was the meaning of that so-called little experiment?

Before Rita could think any further, the old man pulled a pistol from his pocket and pressed it against Rita's head.

"The Glock 17 pistol has a muzzle velocity of approximately 335 meters per second and an effective range of 50 meters," the old man said softly to Rita, introducing the weapon in his hand. "The bullets inside were designed by multiple alchemy masters, with ordinary people participating in their production. Each bullet costs about the same as its weight in gold and can easily break through your magical defenses."

Upon hearing this, Rita's body began to tremble uncontrollably.

"But don't worry..." The old man carefully pulled Rita into his arms, his arms tightly wrapped around her neck. "You might not die. It all depends on who the door key you left behind will attract. As long as he surrenders, you can live..."

Tears streamed down Rita's face. She knew this despicable old man was using her as a bargaining chip to persecute Rune. She hadn't expected them to be so cautious even with the magnetic field suppressing magical power.

The old man called out "Begin!" to the soldier who was near the button, and the soldier picked up a magic wand and tapped the button. A blue light flashed for a moment, and a figure appeared.

Rita's heart sank completely—she had not only ruined herself, but also a promising young man.