Harry Potter: Dragonborn comes

Journey to the Muggle World pt3

"Oh… Seems you're not just any coward," the sorcerer muttered, fixing his gaze on Einar with growing interest. Then he looked away toward the others and calmly stepped back, as if what was coming was inevitable.

"It doesn't matter… You've only delayed the inevitable. No one leaves this place without my permission."

A faint smile formed on Einar's face, barely visible beneath his helm. His eyes gleamed with a nearly feral excitement.

"Oh, your corpse will give it to me," he replied firmly, eyes alight with a thirst for battle.

"Arrogance? Pride? I've seen plenty like you… They all kneeled before me, or never left at all," the mage growled as he raised his staff. Without uttering a word, the shadows stirred as if answering an ancient call. From the corners of the chamber, they stretched forth like living tentacles. The air grew heavy. The walls pulled back, expanding the room with an arcane creak. The piled-up gold crashed down, scattering as though fleeing what was to come.

From those shadows, dark spears shot toward Einar at a dizzying speed—far beyond that of an ordinary wizard in this world.

Einar reacted on instinct. He moved in a zigzag pattern, the weight of his dragon armor making the ground rumble with each step, his evasions accompanied by a symphony of clashing metal. Two swords materialized at his back: one a black blade with red edges that exuded infernal power, and the other golden, radiating purifying light, crowned with a gleaming gem. The Daedric Sword… and the legendary Dawnbreaker.

With both hands, Einar slashed at the incoming shadow spears. Each strike sparked flashes of light that briefly cut through the gloom. The blades sang through the air as they repelled the darkness.

Suddenly, the mage vanished in a blink, reappearing right behind Einar as a blotch in the shadows, wielding a black spear that descended like a scythe toward his back. But Einar felt him. Without looking, he crossed both swords—one from above, one from the side. The impact rang out like a thunderclap of steel.

Then another spear erupted from the floor, aiming straight for his head. Einar merely tilted his neck slightly, and the tip grazed his helmet. The mage let go of his weapon, which instantly turned into a pulsating orb and exploded violently.

The blast forced Einar to step forward, but his dragon armor shielded him from all harm. Beneath the helmet, his smile widened. His excitement was overflowing.

Still, he knew he had to adapt. That armor, nearly impenetrable though it was, slowed him down too much. With a dark flash, his gear changed. Now he wore the ebony armor—the same one he had used against Dumbledore. Lighter, more flexible, and reinforced with runes of magical resistance.

The Daedric blade vanished. In its place, the Ebony Sword appeared, wrapped in crimson veins that pulsed like living flesh. It still held the power of its previous owner… a corrupted and powerful soul.

The sorcerer, watching from the shadows, frowned at Einar's transformation. With a guttural roar, he raised his staff, its gem glowing like a dark sun.

"RISE, MY SERVANTS!"

The shadows roared. The ground cracked with a deafening boom. From the fissures came skeletons, hooded wraiths, mummies, and corpses wrapped in blackened bandages. Armed with swords, shields, and wands, they formed a grotesque army of death.

Einar didn't flinch.

"WULD NAH KEST!"

In the blink of an eye, Einar vanished. When he reappeared, it was like a lightning bolt cutting through the darkness. His sword danced, decapitating enemies with such speed that their bodies hadn't yet fallen before their heads were already flying.

And then, he was in front of the mage. The Dawnbreaker plunged straight into his chest.

The sorcerer's eyes widened in horror… and in a single breath, his body crumbled into dust. His entire army fell with him, reduced to ash.

Einar frowned. His eyes showed only disappointment.

"That was it?"

But before he could turn around, he felt a tremor. The dust stirred. A trinket near the sarcophagus exploded. Another began to glow. The shadows and remains swirled furiously until they formed a figure.

The mage was reborn… but no longer human. He had become a mummified abomination. His dry skin hung from his bones, revealing his teeth. His eyes—black pits of hatred—burned with inhuman rage.

"You… bastard… How dare you?"

From his mouth erupted a scream soaked in madness. From the darkness surged plagues: scorpions, beetles, serpents. A living tide of poison and death hurled itself toward Einar.

"YOL TOOR SHUL!"

A blazing roar erupted from Einar's chest. Draconic flames burst from his mouth, engulfing the swarm and incinerating everything in their path.

"Filthy, disgusting mortal! I'll rip out your soul and make you part of my eternal army! We'll rule this world together—from the grave!" the sorcerer screamed, delirious, aiming his staff directly at him.

Black lightning, like hellish serpents woven from curses and hatred, slithered across the chamber walls with an unnatural hiss. They lunged at Einar with a speed that tore through the air. He reacted instantly, launching himself to the side with force. His jump left a trail of sparks as his obsidian greaves scraped the ground. For the first time in this battle, he felt a glimpse of real danger.

The gold coins beneath his feet, touched by the bolts, melted like wax before a bonfire. An acrid stench spread through the air.

"Doesn't seem lethal… but it'd hurt," Einar murmured with a twisted smile beneath his helmet, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

The sorcerer wasted not a second, raising his staff in a frantic gesture.

"Let the plague consume you!" he bellowed with a demonic voice.

From the dark crystal of his staff, a vortex of rot emerged. Impossible insects, carriers of plague and death, shot out like a living tide. Black flies, rotting rats, scorpions, worms, and floating spores covered the hall like a shroud.

Einar raised a hand. A sphere of fire formed, burning with increasing intensity, until he clenched it with fury.

A searing explosion erupted around him. Flames roared like unleashed dragons, incinerating everything in their wake. The creatures screamed before being reduced to ash.

But even then, Einar felt poison and disease trying to infiltrate his body. A burning sensation inside him, an itch in his blood…

Until his chest glowed with a golden light, as if the very sun had pulsed within him. The corruption was purged instantly.

"Die!" the sorcerer howled, all traces of sanity gone.

The shadows came alive. From every crack, from every stone in the ceiling, floor, and walls, spears tipped with dark fire emerged like swarms of death.

Einar danced among them with supernatural precision. He dodged as if he could see the future. Then, in his hand, a spear of pure steel materialized, gleaming like the dawn. He held it for only a second.

"Amino." The word echoed like thunder.

He hurled the spear with tremendous force, and it split into dozens, then hundreds, as if Einar's will multiplied its edge. A rain of death descended upon the sorcerer.

The sorcerer raised his staff. The ground shook, and a wall of stone and bones rose like an unnatural bulwark. The projectiles bounced off, shattering columns and walls—but not the sorcerer.

The sorcerer sneered before pointing at the walls. They cracked as if obeying an ancient command, and hundreds of holes opened. Then he pointed at the ceiling.

It collapsed like a mountain crashing down upon Einar.

"Now!" the sorcerer cried.

But Einar was already moving. He leapt back with impossible grace for someone in armor, like a wolf dodging a trap.

The walls vomited a rain of arrows coated in green venom that sizzled upon contact with the air.

The arrows struck his armor, bouncing off as if they were toys.

"That's it?" Einar said in a deep voice, brushing an arrow off his shoulder. "Neither poison nor steel can pierce my will."

The sorcerer roared.

"You're in my domain! This place belongs to me! Every stone, every shadow, every breath of air is under my command. Coming here was the worst mistake you've ever made!"

Einar laughed—a short, fearless laugh.

"Then that's perfect.

WULD NAH KEST!

His shout thundered like a storm. His body became a fleeting blur, a dark lightning bolt streaking across the battlefield. He appeared beside the sorcerer, his greatsword descending with a roar of steel, aiming to cleave him in two.

A shield black as the void emerged just in time to block the strike. The impact was so brutal it made the ground quake.

The sorcerer smiled confidently, locking eyes with Einar.

"I've got you."

His staff rose with lightning speed, pointing straight at Einar's heart—

And a green spell, one Einar knew all too well, struck him in the chest.

...…