Siding with Voldemort had been the werewolf clan's greatest mistake.
Gazing at the hellish scene unfolding before him, the clan's alpha thought this.
There lay a feast of slaughter between werewolves and vampires.
Along with the declaration of war, hundreds of vampires had appeared, tearing through the moonlit night, and without the slightest hesitation assaulted the werewolf settlement, beginning their devastation without even exchanging words.
Demon claws were swung. A male werewolf's head flew.
Demon fangs were thrust forward. A female werewolf became a mummified corpse.
The six hundred vampires that had descended upon this place were truly the very demons they had been before being forgotten.
The very embodiment of terror that had once dominated the night.
The symbol of fear wasn't Voldemort—it belonged to them.
The vampires proclaiming this had regained the pride lost so long ago in their eyes. They were filled with the arrogance of kings who terrorized all living things.
Therefore, the werewolf alpha thought:
Watching the claws swung to take his own life right now, he thought:
We've made enemies of quite the monsters.
With that final thought, the alpha's consciousness cut out as if someone had flipped a switch.
Lifting that now-lifeless head, one vampire raised a triumphant cry.
The long history of Britain's werewolf clan was now approaching its end.
Beauxbatons Academy of Magic was in the midst of a nightmare.
Muggle-born wizards would later say it was like watching a poorly made third-rate horror film.
Surrounding the historically prestigious Beauxbatons Academy were over a thousand Inferi and trolls.
It was a scene like something from a movie screen.
Moreover, the Inferi didn't even fear death, making them impossible to handle.
Even if magic blew off their arms, they continued advancing, and even losing their legs, they crawled forward.
What's more, the trolls trampled even their supposed allies, the Inferi, without care as they charged in and brazenly invaded the school grounds.
Of course, Beauxbatons didn't go down without resistance.
Under Madame Maxime's leadership, they fought valiantly, struggling to protect their alma mater.
Countless spells flew, and magical creatures guarding the school scattered the Inferi.
But the numerical difference was too great.
There were far too many non-combatants to protect.
—At this rate, the children will die.
Sensing this, Madame Maxime left only a few teachers behind and resolved to evacuate all the students.
Teachers existed to protect students.
Then even if her body shattered, she would protect her beloved students.
She wouldn't let these lawless thugs have their way.
With this noble resolve in her heart, Maxime and the teachers charged into the violent horde.
Firing spells from wands, trampling Inferi, using half-giant strength to knock down even trolls like dominoes.
It was truly a heroic last stand, a battle worthy of the great wizard Maxime's name.
Mowing down a hundred Inferi, scattering a hundred trolls, Maxime advanced with a demon's expression while wearing the flesh fragments she herself had crushed.
Meeting a troll that charged from the front, she grappled with both arms.
Immediately after, the troll's arms separated from its shoulders, and Maxime's fist caved in its face.
Inferi clung to her one after another, yet she dragged them forward.
Arms broken, legs shattered, covered in wounds—still Maxime didn't stop.
Eventually, she caught sight of the general commanding the enemy forces, Quirrell—and with her injured body, lunged at him.
These were things they Death Eaters had looked down upon.
Mere Muggle tools they had sneered at.
The tearful efforts of an inferior species unable to use magic, which they had scorned.
But now that perception had changed.
Merciless bombardment raining from the sky.
A rain of bullets that shredded humans to pieces.
And missiles that suddenly appeared using Apparition.
Hidden by magic so other Muggle nations couldn't see them, they stabbed into the hideouts where Death Eaters lived and exploded massively.
Protections that nullified scientific tools were disabled by wizards' magic, rendered meaningless.
If terror drove them to flee from their hideouts, wizards' curses greeted them en masse, and infantry machine guns sent them to hell.
Pleas for mercy held no meaning.
The master commanded: 'Kill.' Therefore, they killed.
Kill, kill. Only kill.
All 'for the greater good.'
Not a fragment of hesitation remained in them.
"Mirabelle... are you truly going through with this?"
"Of course. Everything has been prepared for this day."
Above the Ministry of Magic.
There, Grindelwald and Mirabelle looked down upon the Ministry.
Yet there were no broomsticks.
Two monsters that didn't fit within common sense's framework—they no longer needed broomsticks.
"Voldemort showed us excellent work.
According to the script... no, even more than that.
He stoked fear throughout the wizarding world, heightened resistance, and drew pure-blood supremacists into his faction."
Becoming the enemy of the entire wizarding world and drawing in pure-blood supremacists.
That was precisely the role Mirabelle had wanted Voldemort to play.
Especially the latter was absolutely essential for fulfilling Mirabelle's wishes.
Pure-blood supremacists were targets for purging. Fools to be eradicated from this world.
But if she simply killed them, public reception would be poor.
However, if they were in Voldemort's faction, the story changed.
The pure-blood supremacists must have eagerly sold themselves out.
They weren't enemies of Voldemort, but allies. They must have ingratiated themselves to him as comrades sharing the same will.
That was fine. Cower in fear and wag your tails.
Join Voldemort's camp that way.
Give me a legitimate reason to kill you all.
"Dolores Umbridge was flawless as well.
The way she gleefully cooperated with the dark side and subjected non-pure-bloods to unjust trials was such a perfect villain I almost wanted to kill her."
Mirabelle toyed with a crystal in her hand.
Of course, it wasn't just a pretty crystal.
It was something like what Muggles would call a camera, recording Umbridge's evil deeds in their entirety.
That woman had a natural talent for irritating people.
Just being there, just standing there was filthy.
And she wore a smug smile, with a voice that didn't hide her joy, as she unlawfully tried innocent victims.
Fabricating crimes simply for not being pure-blood, branding their possessed wands as stolen goods, making them Dementor fodder.
The sight of her executing this with a genuine smile that couldn't be done while under control would be enough to make people lose trust in the Ministry.
And that disgraceful behavior had already been distributed throughout the wizarding world using Rita Skeeter.
Though she had come crying that her nails were about to turn crimson, at this rate she should barely survive until everything ended.
Thanks to that, people's resistance toward the Ministry had risen sufficiently.
The war had already begun before the declaration.
By exposing Umbridge's actions to public scrutiny, it planted the image that the Ministry was voluntarily complying.
In the current situation where all media only wrote things favorable to the dark side, it must have seemed like the only truth.
Therefore—the Ministry could be completely erased without lingering concerns.
"First, I'll fire off a shot of morale-boosting magic.
After that, full army advance—kill indiscriminately. Understood?"
"...Acknowledged."
To Mirabelle's words, Grindelwald answered with a somewhat bored tone.
Mirabelle laughed amusedly at him.
"Are you that dissatisfied Dumbledore didn't appear?"
"...Well, yes. That man, what is he doing... if he's going to make a move, now would be the only chance..."
"About that, it seems that man chose to save as many as possible rather than wait for the fisherman's profit.
Thanks to that, I missed killing several pure-blood supremacists."
Needless to say, what Mirabelle proclaimed must be eradicated were the pure-blood supremacists.
But among them were parents of children attending Hogwarts.
If she killed them, the children would shed tears and bear wounds in their hearts that would never disappear.
This was precisely the tears of the innocent Dumbledore had spoken of to Mirabelle before, the reason he couldn't accept her.
And Dumbledore... as an educator, he chose to help them.
He prioritized his own beliefs even at the cost of missing this supreme opportunity to strike at Mirabelle.
That would be a noble act.
Behavior that should be called the model of an educator.
But—
"Foolish."
Grindelwald spoke as if spitting.
Mirabelle neither agreed nor disagreed with those words, simply looking forward.
In the end, Dumbledore had chosen to be an educator rather than a leader until the very end.
For just an instant, Mirabelle showed an expression like melancholy about this.
If—if only he had chosen the path of leader rather than educator...
"...Mirabelle?"
"It's nothing. Let's go."
What flashed through her mind for an instant was an image of herself spending time with a friend from days past.
Those days when her fangs had fallen out, when she was corrupted... but happy.
A scene of an 'IF' that might have been.
But that version of herself no longer existed.
Her weak self had been cast away entirely along with life as a human.
What stood here was only a single merciless demon.
Therefore—
Now, let's begin.
Now, let's kill.
Destroy the symbol called the Ministry and plant our flag there.
Now, let's end the British wizarding world with these hands.
Evacuation of surrounding residents, both wizarding and Muggle, was complete. There was no longer any reason to hesitate.
"Finite Incantatem Maxima! Spells, be ended!"
Golden light released from Mirabelle's hand and rained down upon the ground.
Then the Ministry of Magic, which had been hiding its form, became exposed.
What's more, all protective spells guarding the Ministry vanished like dew, exposing its defenselessness.
There, Mirabelle slammed in magic announcing the opening of hostilities.
"Voltage Raid Maxima!"
Multiple lightning strikes raining from heaven!
They crushed, burned, and devastated the traditional Ministry of Magic.
A strike suggesting divine judgment, enough to make the soldiers think justice was on their side.
After slamming in this no-questions-asked preemptive attack, the demon commanded her soldiers:
"All forces, charge!"
Hundreds of golems and sixty dragons, over five hundred house-elves and ten Basilisks, along with diverse magical creatures.
Muggle infantry carrying firearms, with tanks following behind.
Aurors holding wands and locally recruited anti-Voldemort resistance fighters.
All of them avalanched into the Ministry simultaneously and massacred the staff who emerged with pale faces.
Mirabelle's lightning strikes rained down ceaselessly, and Grindelwald's death magic reaped lives.
Dragon flames burned buildings, and tank cannons resounded thunderously.
The Basilisks' eyes mass-produced corpses, and magical creatures devoured flesh.
Muggle machine guns gave wizards no time to chant spells, turning them to chunks of meat, and house-elves advanced over the corpses.
A man whose wife was stolen by snatchers fired magic with a face twisted in hatred, and a man whose family was fed to Dementors stained his body with returned blood.
"Tremble in fear! Your era ends today!"
Whether they were brainwashed by Voldemort didn't matter.
If they were here, all were enemies.
Having half-destroyed the building, Mirabelle herself entered, advancing in low flight as if gliding across the ground.
Piercing through staff holding wands, shooting fleeing wizards from behind.
Trampling a woman who had been shouting something, grabbing an official who was hiding and ripping out his entire spine along with his neck.
Runcorn, Travers.
Yaxley, Mafalda.
Laughing maniacally, she murdered them one after another, dyeing the Ministry crimson.
In the course of this, catching sight of a particularly conspicuous pink witch, Mirabelle floated a cruel demon's smile.
"Dolores Umbridge, is it?"
"Eek!? Stop, don't kill me! Please, please!"
Instantly closing the distance and grabbing her hair, she cried out in a voice trembling with terror.
Mirabelle looked down at her while asking in a gentle voice that could even be felt as compassionate:
"I see... you don't want to die that badly?"
"Y-yes! Yes! I don't want to die!"
"Then show me an imitation of a frog."
At Mirabelle's words, Umbridge shook violently.
"Come on, imitate a frog. You have such a frog-like face, it'll suit you perfectly, won't it?"
"Y-y-yes! I-if I do that, will you spare me!?"
Though Umbridge asked while chattering her teeth, Mirabelle didn't answer.
Instead, she placed her foot on Umbridge's head and pressed it to the floor.
"Who permitted you to ask questions?"
"I-I'm sorry! I'll do it, I'll do it! I'm a frog!
R-ribbit! Ribbit ribbit! Ribbit ribbit ribbit! Ribbit, ribbit ribbit...!"
No longer even treating her as human, she made her imitate a frog.
It was truly an insult, something that wounded pride beyond measure.
However, Umbridge croaked miserably in her desperation not to die, and Mirabelle let out an amused mocking laugh.
"Hahahahaha! You're amusing. I see, so you're not human but a frog?"
"Y-yes! I'm a frog, a lower life form! So..."
Good, I pleased her...
Such relief appeared on Umbridge's face as she looked up at Mirabelle imploringly.
To such a woman, Mirabelle floated a quiet smile—and in an instant, it transformed into a demon's grin.
"Lower life forms should die!"
"—Eh?"
Squish.
With such an anticlimactic sound, the demon's foot crushed Umbridge's head.
Not metaphorically.
With inhuman monstrous strength, she truly crushed her head, shattered her skull, pulverized her brain matter, and transformed everything from the neck up into remnants of blood and flesh.
Glancing at such a miserable corpse, Mirabelle crushed her captured soul in her hand.
"Fool. I have no need for the likes of you in the new world I create."
Turning her robes, she advanced onward as if no longer interested.
The corpse left behind was blown away by the aftermath of the unfolding battle, trampled, and eventually destroyed so thoroughly that no one could recognize it had once been Umbridge, but this no longer mattered to Mirabelle.
Having ended one life thus, the demon resumed her advance and finally burst into the room where the Minister had barricaded himself.
Though wizards had been guarding him, they were mere foot soldiers. She transformed them into chunks of meat with a single swing of her claws and turned toward the Minister.
Pius Thicknesse—formerly Head of Magical Law Enforcement, now serving as Minister since Voldemort's takeover.
And a puppet Minister manipulated through the Imperius Curse.
"Eek, stop... don't come...!"
At Mirabelle walking with a cruel smile, Pius screamed in terror.
Wildly waving his wand, firing Disarming Charms, Stunning Spells, even Killing Curses—none reached Mirabelle.
Without even dodging them all, receiving them head-on, the demon walked.
Then she flashed her extended claws.
The body missing its head collapsed, the head rolling across the floor with a delay.
Crushing that head frozen with terror, Mirabelle twisted her young, beautiful features into triumphant ones.
"To all forces! Retreat from here immediately!"
All that remained was to erase it cleanly.
She issued retreat orders to the soldiers, having them Disapparate to avoid being caught up.
After that, Mirabelle floated high into the sky and raised her hand to the void.
What she would use now was magic that any wizard of a certain level could use.
Even Harry and Hermione could use it—the most basic of basics.
She would simply perform it with Mirabelle's overwhelming magical power, at full strength.
"—Accio."
Wands could activate magic simultaneously by holding multiple ones.
And wands were made using parts of magical creatures' bodies.
Then the body of Mirabelle, a progenitor vampire, could itself serve as powerful wand material.
Therefore, Mirabelle imagined it:
The 215 bones forming her body.
All the blood coursing through her.
The flesh and organs composing her. Every single hair—all were wands.
At the same time, subordinate wizards who had completed their retreat also raised their wands in unison, supporting the spell.
Mirabelle knew no such word as anxiety.
If she thought she could do it, she could.
If she thought she would do it, she would.
She always had. And always would.
Therefore, she didn't consider that she might not be able to.
"Come forth, divine hammer! Fury of the stars!"
At the edge of space, something answered Mirabelle's voice.
Voiceless, mindless—yet across the vast distance at the edge of the void, the golden call certainly reached.
'It' left its orbital path and descended, breaking through Earth's atmosphere.
Burning its own body, becoming multiple blazing trails, descending to destroy the fools living on the ground.
Seeing this phenomenon, people sometimes entrusted wishes to it, sometimes feared it, and sometimes saw God in it.
—The name of this phenomenon was meteorite.
Sensing the presence of the descending meteor shower, Mirabelle released Accio at the last moment, letting the meteorites fall.
She had used herself as a marker to guide them this far.
Then no further guidance was needed.
She Apparated even higher into the sky to avoid being caught up, with Grindelwald following.
And then.
Divine wrath crushed and pulverized everything.
Its fury created a massive crater.
Scattering great destruction across several kilometers.
A shiver of ecstasy ran through Mirabelle's entire body.
Yes, she had been waiting for this moment.
She had wanted to create this spectacle.
She had wanted to show this scenery to her...
—Hey, are you watching, Lettice... finally, I've avenged your regrets...
"Ahaha... Ahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!
Hey, look Grindelwald! The Ministry looks just like garbage!
It squashed so easily! Ahahahahahaha!!"
Like a child satisfied with a toy, Mirabelle laughed uproariously.
Watching her, Grindelwald couldn't stop the cold sweat.
Accio was certainly magic that summoned matter. 'Theoretically' there were no exceptions.
But... but still!
Summoning meteors from space with Accio!
Absurd! Far too insane!!
Yet this woman could make it reality. This was the monster called Mirabelle Beresford.
Having come this far, he could only acknowledge it.
This woman had no bottom.
She was a demon who would continue growing infinitely.
This girl had no bottom, no end, and the more time given, the more uncontrollable she became.
She crossed paths that normal people struggled with without even noticing them as paths.
Probably the greatest genius in all of history—and a prodigy of talent who would never appear again.
And a heretical monster unable to use it in the right direction.
—Like a woman born solely to destroy the world.
Pushing such absurd thoughts into his heart, Grindelwald floated a self-deprecating smile.
Afterward, she would raid Azkaban and rescue those unjustly imprisoned—but by that time, people's hearts and public opinion had already completely tilted toward her.
The worst scenario Dumbledore feared had been completed.
***
Madame Maxime: "Mmmm hoi! Mmmm hoi! Mmmm hoi!" Quirrell: "Gyaaaaa! What is this thing!? It's ridiculously strong!?" Auror: "That's not human movement!?"
Those movements, unmistakably perverted.
Trevor: "Calling frogs lower life forms... you've got some nerve (stands up)"
Neville:"KYEEEEAAAAAHSHABETTAAAAA!!?" Trevor: "Sorry Neville... I'm an Animagus. I'm sorry for keeping it from you." Neville: "What!?" Trevor: "But now I must fulfill my duty as a hero... Watch me Cyrus, and my friend Chrono. Upon this holy sword Grandleon, I shall now defeat the Demon King!" Neville: "Huh? Wait, where is that setting from..."Trevor: "Farewell Neville! Take care!" Neville: "Wait, Trevor! Trevoooor!?"
Hero Trevor, rises—
***
(´ω`) Good evening everyone. Episode 67 delivered with a full sense of having gone and done it. By the way, though not written much in the story emphasizing exhilaration, Mirabelle's side isn't unscathed either. They're quite exhausted. Now, completely backed into a corner, how will they stand against this... And what will happen to Japan where all Godzillas from all eras returned together with all monsters from all eras... See you again tomorrow.
Sephiroth: "Meteors, seriously not cool" Imashin: "Consider the world setting" Mercury Snake:"Meteors in a school story, seriously not cool"
***
If you want to read 10 chapters ahead or support me, visit my p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m /Well_being