The fall of the British Ministry of Magic to Voldemort.
It had plunged the British wizarding world into the depths of darkness and terror.
The Ministry that should have protected its citizens was manipulated at will, and the streets were walked brazenly by Death Eaters, Dementors, and snatchers.
If you weren't pure-blood, even entire family massacres were commonplace.
Being hauled to the Ministry on absurd charges and fed to Dementors after sham trials was an everyday occurrence.
There was no longer any time for peace of mind. No place for peace of mind.
Therefore, the people living in the wizarding world strongly yearned for it.
A savior to rescue them from this desperate situation.
A conveniently heroic deus ex machina.
An existence that would "kill" Voldemort.
And that was exactly what the golden evil intended.
It was the worst possible signal that she was making her move.
"There is no revolution without sacrifice."
In the dimly lit castle interior, the girl spoke.
Her appearance was utterly unchanged from when she was fourteen, even possessing a childlike quality.
Yet simultaneously, she exuded a bewitching allure that even adults couldn't produce.
Every word she uttered captivated those present, every gesture stole their hearts.
Flanking her were her loyal vassals permitted to stand at her side—Quirrell and a beautiful, silently standing boy—enhancing Mirabelle like a painting.
"Throughout human history, whenever a new era arrived, there was always discarded old history.
Mountains of corpses rolling miserably and rivers of blood."
Listening to these words were thousands of servants gathered in the great hall.
Vampires, ghouls, Inferi, golems, Muggles, wizards, dragons...
All of them, with eyes dominated by madness, listened to their king's words.
"I don't consider that evil. No matter what sacrifices are produced, if it's for better development, those are necessary sacrifices. The price that must be paid.
True evil is stagnation. Fools who fear moving forward, bound by old ideologies and rotting away—they are the evil."
Evolution was the future living things should pursue.
Development was the form of evolution permitted to humanity.
It didn't matter whether wizard or Muggle—there was no future in standing still.
Certainly, victims would be discarded in the process.
Those victims might be kindhearted good people, beloved by all.
She didn't deny that it would produce many tears, sadness, and laments.
However, by trampling over these, by filling the earth with corpses, new frontiers would be opened.
Glory surpassing those sacrifices could be obtained.
Humanity had always moved forward this way. Until now... and forevermore.
Mirabelle believed this without doubt.
"'For the greater good'... these are the supreme words Albus Dumbledore spoke in his youth.
I truly believe they are words that pierce the truth of humanity.
Great development always produces sacrifice. But all of it is necessary 'for the greater good.'
Hypocrites who fear sacrifice and cannot move forward can never accomplish true good. Those who fear blood have no evolution."
Mirabelle Beresford didn't fear sacrifice.
From the start, she had long since discarded any heart that would mourn.
What reflected in her eyes was only the glorious road beyond the sacrifice.
She had decided to trample the sorrow of the weak people weeping at her feet.
Therefore, she was more wicked than anyone, and could believe in her own goodness more than anyone.
"Therefore, I wish and command you all:
Stain your hands with blood and produce thousands upon thousands of tragedies.
Build up countless deaths and carve open my path."
Mirabelle speaking from her throne was more wicked than anyone, more abominable than anything, yet shone brighter than any existence.
The angels who corrupted humanity spoken of in myths were perhaps beings like her.
Though possessing the most wicked inner heart, the girl was more beautiful than any existence in this place.
And once drawn in, there was no escape.
Move for her sake, kill for her sake, and die for her sake.
That resolve was planted deep within their hearts.
"Everyone—can you die for me?"
It was an invitation to hell.
It was a beckoning to madness.
Die by throwing away everything for my sake—the girl declared this without shame.
Without any deception, without offering comfort, she pronounced: die miserably.
Become corpses paving the road in death, and display your remains as ordered.
To this, not only the lifeless Inferi and ghouls but also the near-immortal vampires and living humans—all answered in unison:
"For the greater good!!"
Was it brainwashing? Or hypnosis? Perhaps threats?
No, none of those.
True, Mirabelle had used brainwashing magic as a means to obtain a nation's Ministry.
She had used the Imperius Curse more than once or twice.
However, those here had long since been released from such spells.
Then were they sane?
—That too was false.
They couldn't possibly be sane. How could people with such madness-soaked eyes be sane?
Then why exactly were they obeying?
Why had they been dyed in madness?
The reason was singular—'Mirabelle Beresford.'
She herself was equivalent to an incomparably powerful brainwashing spell!
The girl called Mirabelle was itself an irresistible Imperius!
No rationality to judge good and evil remained within them any longer.
Because they had created absolute justice called Mirabelle in their hearts.
All who opposed it were evil to them.
No matter what beautiful beliefs or ideologies they held, if they contradicted Mirabelle, they were merely enemies to be destroyed.
It was an unwavering, solid, yet warped way of being, like a group of fanatics blindly believing in a god.
"Most excellent."
Mirabelle nodded with satisfaction at their response, floating a wicked smile.
Then, standing from her throne, she declared in a loud voice echoing throughout the hall to inspire all her soldiers:
"Very well! Then from this moment on, we shall wage total war against the British wizarding world!
Massacre all the fools bound by old ideologies, and reduce the history they created to ashes!"
The country where she was born and raised. The school that nurtured her.
The people living there, the humans she knew.
All of them were outside mercy. She didn't hesitate even slightly to destroy them.
Therefore, Mirabelle roared:
"Simultaneously with the declaration of war, we'll deploy multiple lightning operations!
Vampire battalion, you will assault the werewolf settlements!
All werewolves remaining in Britain now are defeated dogs who chose to side with Voldemort—no mercy needed!
Now reclaim the lost pride of the kings of the night and slaughter those dogs who wagged their tails for Voldemort!"
In Britain, all werewolves not following Voldemort had been protected by Mirabelle's subordinates and relocated to France.
Therefore, all werewolves remaining in Britain were without exception Voldemort's dogs. No hesitation required.
To Mirabelle's command, the vampire leading the vampire clan responded with a salute.
The pride of the clan of night once feared and then forgotten.
In ancient times, the symbol of terror wasn't the Dark Lord—it was vampires.
They would make humans remember that now!
"Sidney! I entrust you with the Muggles!
Using the firepower of modern weapons, ambush the giant settlements! Exterminate the filthy giants!"
Those who sided with Voldemort, whatever they were, wouldn't be left for tomorrow's world.
Receiving this intent, Sidney showed his agreement without changing expression.
If his sister wished it, he would grant it. If his sister ordered him to die, he would die.
His life and existence were precisely for that purpose.
"Quirrell! I entrust all golems, trolls, and ghouls to you!
Using that numbers advantage, suppress Beauxbatons Academy still putting up clever resistance!"
Quirrell returned a salute to his most beloved master without being daunted by the forces entrusted to him.
This was probably the highest difficulty task.
Only this location demanded not 'total annihilation' but 'suppression'... meaning, killing must be kept to a minimum.
The master didn't approve of needlessly plucking young buds that would create the future, wishing to keep them alive as much as possible.
Then he would accomplish it.
Given this much military force, he'd be truly incompetent if he couldn't achieve it.
Therefore, he absolutely would accomplish it.
No matter what resistance existed, he would bend it, crush it, and bring victory back to his master.
That resolve would never waver.
"Holger! Lead wizards and aerial forces to raid Death Eater and snatcher hideouts scattered throughout—send those who side with Voldemort to hell!"
Death Eater hideouts were sealed with protective magic.
But Secret-Keepers had long since lost meaning.
Mirabelle's subordinates had moved for this day, ambushing Death Eaters from the shadows.
They had cast Imperius on them and extracted their secrets.
And protective magic other than that could be easily broken with Ministry knowledge.
Then protection was no longer protection. Blow away the strongholds with massive firepower and everything would end.
"The rest will assault the Ministry with me!
Offer up every sluggard who has invited corruption to this day without leaving a single one, and burn them completely without leaving a scrap of flesh!"
The remaining Aurors, dragons, magical creatures, the Basilisk, and Muggles—all would be devoted to erasing the Ministry from this world.
Naturally, the staff working there were no exception.
Since Voldemort had seized it, most remaining were Voldemort faction vermin anyway. No hesitation in killing them.
"Let us go, everyone."
Mirabelle gazed at her obedient soldiers and narrowed her golden eyes.
What reflected in those eyes wasn't the present but the future.
The glory beyond destroying all enemies. She could already see it.
"—Let's end the British wizarding world."
The illustrious history of the British wizarding world continuing from ancient times.
Everyone present felt certain its end had come.
Declaration of war from France, Germany, and Ireland.
It shook the entire British wizarding world.
There were no naval or aerial battles to defend the homeland.
From the start, the basis of wizarding warfare was interpersonal dueling. It hadn't developed that far.
Therefore, they easily permitted the Allied forces led by Mirabelle to enter, and simultaneous attacks on various locations began.
Wizards under Mirabelle's command transferred en masse by Apparition, and steel birds created by Muggles glided through the sky.
Crude yet heavy tanks leveled the roads, and terrifying swarms of vampires ran through the night sky in perfectly coordinated movements.
Hordes of ghouls fearing no death ravaged the earth, and infinitely generated golems pressed forward while serving as shields for their allies.
It was truly a hellish scene, the largest-scale invasion unprecedented since the wizarding world began.
A remote mountain settlement where giants lived. Steel wings circled overhead.
What reflected in the giants' eyes as they looked up wondering what was happening was "something" dropped from fighter jets.
Unable to understand what it was, they wore puzzled expressions as it landed on the ground before them—and exploded.
Machines created by Muggles specialized in killing people. Giants couldn't possibly know about such things.
Breaking magical common sense—simply overwhelmingly merciless firepower. The fury of science.
No matter how sturdy or how powerful their resistance to magic, giants couldn't possibly emerge unscathed.
Limbs blown off, flesh burned, shattered beyond recognition.
Watching this from a distance, Sidney Beresford issued commands atop a tank.
Advance warning had already been given.
He had sent messengers declaring no mercy if they sided with Voldemort.
Yet they had remained here. They had chosen to follow Voldemort.
Then there was no mercy. Everything here would be slaughtered by steel fury.
"Advance!"
With the command, waiting tanks charged simultaneously.
Mowing down trees, destroying nature, they leapt before the giants.
And what was unleashed were steel cannons.
Each time a roar loud enough to rupture eardrums echoed, giants' bodies were torn like paper and blown away.
They desperately tried to counterattack, but what could biological strength do against steel vehicles that could withstand direct hits from tank cannons?
No matter if giants, their fists couldn't produce power exceeding tank shells.
Rather, they were simply run over by tanks that advanced regardless, miserably crushed by their weight.
Having been shown such a disparity, no fighting spirit remained.
They fled in confusion like driven refugees and were shot from behind.
The few who barely survived barricaded themselves in a cave deep in the mountains, building barriers with rocks.
But how much meaning could that have?
A small bomb thrown through tiny gaps in the rocks.
It dispersed gas, filling the cave interior.
Then, just a few minutes later, the giants were assailed by incomprehensible suffering, and one by one died while vomiting bloody foam from their mouths.
Their vitality in not dying immediately even after inhaling poison gas was tremendous, but that was all.
Being biological, once their insides were destroyed, nothing could be done.
Thus, the giants disappeared from Britain on this day, save for a single one.
Ironically, only Grawp, oppressed by the giants and taken away by Hagrid, became the sole survivor.
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(´ω`) < I won't forgive the rebels either!! And so we've delivered Episode 66 where Mirabelle finally went and did it. The villain vs. villain crushing match has started. To use an analogy, it's like the Titans and Axis starting total war while ignoring AEUG. At any rate, how much both camps exhaust each other in this battle will determine future difficulty levels. And notice of the giants' extinction. Mirabelle apparently also evacuated giants who wouldn't side with Voldy, but their numbers were so few it's essentially total annihilation. The situation Dumbledore feared has finally occurred.
Dumbledore: "That's what I said... that Mirabelle was no different from Voldemort... (white eyes)" Romandor: "No problem. Whichever wins just becomes our enemy." Dumbledore: "... (Wait, who is this guy?)"
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