Harry Potter: Journey to Godhood

There's a saying: ignorance breeds fearlessness.

Typically, the more someone knows, the greater their sense of awe.

Unlike the human army's unskilled archers, the high elven rangers fully understood the implications of the series of enhancement spells Alaric had just cast.

When they saw him perform this intricate sequence of magic, they were certain—there was no doubt about the outcome of this match.

Under such terrifying buffs, even a clumsy farmer would transform into a peerless sharpshooter.

By the time Alaric finished his spells, he had evolved from an ordinary person with basic archery skills into a master archer. 

His agility, vision, perception, movement speed, and shooting speed had all surpassed Lor'themar's.

What's more, this master archer was calm and composed, utterly unshakable. No external distractions could affect him, making mistakes nearly impossible.

Additionally, Alaric altered the weather around the shooting range, changing the gentle breeze into a windless stillness. 

His arrows were imbued with magic that nullified any interference from air currents.

If that wasn't enough, he also accelerated time for himself. 

This meant that even if he took the same total time as Lor'themar to complete the contest, he would appear much faster to onlookers—his personal time flow had been compressed.

The most unnerving factor, however, was a spell from the Harry Potter world. 

This magic subtly influenced fate itself, ensuring that even Lady Luck unequivocally stood by Alaric's side. 

Unless he deliberately missed, any minor mistake would be erased by the power of destiny.

For the rangers, Alaric's ability to wield such a wide array of enhancement spells was awe-inspiring. His sheer mastery of magic was beyond comprehension.

The spells he used were not particularly complex, but they were obscure ones that most mages would never bother to learn. 

Even an archmage wouldn't waste time mastering so many situational spells—unless that mage happened to be an eccentric specializing in archery, which seemed absurd.

Thus, there was only one conclusion: the mage before them was a true genius and a formidable warrior. 

At such a young age, he had mastered more spells than most could in a lifetime. 

While he might not be deeply specialized in any single school of magic, his versatility made him formidable in any situation.

Lor'themar couldn't help but feel relieved that he hadn't suggested a swordsmanship duel. 

If Alaric had stacked buffs like Steel Skeleton, Iron Guard, Perfect Form, Bear's Resilience, and Bull's Strength, he would've been utterly crushed in close combat—it would've been even more humiliating.

And so, with a mix of respect and resignation in their eyes, Lor'themar and the other rangers watched as Alaric stepped confidently to the center of the shooting range, longbow in hand.

"I'm ready. Let's begin," Alaric said, his voice calm yet resonant, as though he were declaring a judgment from fate itself.

"Y-yes… R-ready—begin!"

Despite Alaric's gentle tone, Halduron Brightwing felt an inexplicable pressure in his words, causing him to stammer.

Once Halduron announced the start, Alaric began his performance.

Yes, it was a performance—a dazzling display of skill. At this point, no one doubted Alaric's victory. The only question was how he would win, and to what degree.

Unlike Lor'themar, who had shot while on the move to cover the entire range, Alaric chose to remain stationary at the center of the range and shoot from there.

This decision meant that to hit the humanoid targets at either end of the range, he would have to shoot at an angle. The increased distance and narrower angles added to the difficulty, but for Alaric, it posed no challenge.

He even closed his eyes, relying entirely on detection magic to locate the targets. With precision, he began firing at the humanoid targets on one end of the range.

The bowstring bent like a full moon, and the arrows flew like meteors.

Alaric's shooting was seamless and fluid, his movements graceful yet efficient.

Under the influence of his enhancement spells, Alaric's hand speed far surpassed that of any ordinary person. Combined with his time distortion magic, the act of drawing an arrow, nocking it, and firing created the illusion of rapid-fire shooting.

In less than four or five seconds, he had swept from one end of the range to the other. 

His quiver was empty, and each of the twenty humanoid targets had an arrow embedded squarely in the center of their foreheads.

"F-four or five seconds!" Halduron announced in astonishment. "Twenty targets, all hit in their vital spots, and… and every arrow struck the exact same point on their foreheads."

"With further enhancement to the time distortion magic, it could be even faster," Alaric said lightly. "But this is sufficient. I believe I've won."

He approached Lor'themar, his demeanor calm. 

Though they were of similar height—Lor'themar, as a high elf, was even taller—Alaric exuded an imposing presence that made him seem towering in comparison.

"Yes… you've won," Lor'themar admitted through gritted teeth. Finally, he bowed his head. "I underestimated humanity. I must admit, your skills match your bold claims. I concede defeat."

He then turned to Nathanos Marris, who stood nearby.

"Marris, I owe you an apology. I made rash judgments about you in the past without understanding you. 

That was my mistake. From now on, I will view you with fairness and without prejudice. I hope you can forgive my error."

"O-of course, Theron," Nathanos stammered, overwhelmed by Lor'themar's humility. "I'll work hard to prove myself!"

"I'll be waiting," Lor'themar said with a small smile. "But until then, don't expect me to look up to you just yet."

With those words, Lor'themar seemed more at ease. His gaze toward Alaric grew sincere.

"I will honor my promise and join the volunteer forces to provide support. I look forward to fighting alongside you on the battlefield."

He extended his hand toward Alaric.

"Of course. You are most welcome."

Their handshake was firm and resolute.

The once-tense atmosphere in the Farstrider camp dissipated, replaced by newfound camaraderie. 

The other rangers now looked at Alaric with admiration and respect rather than hostility or defiance.

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