The moment he turned his head, Evans met eyes with a middle-aged man in the distance who stood like an iron tower.
The man's face bore a steady expression, wrapped in a somewhat barbaric fur coat. His beard wasn't cleanly shaved, but his eyes held a glimmer of hope that cut through the weariness.
With just one glance, Evans could see the unmistakable aura of leadership radiating from this man. Combined with the portrait etched in magical history, he could easily match this person with his name.
Although magical history didn't describe much about his life's achievements, anyone who could leave both portrait and name in the annals was definitely no simple figure.
After making eye contact with Evans for a moment, the middle-aged man laughed heartily and extended his massive hand.
He didn't inquire about Evans's purpose, but directly introduced himself.
"Let me introduce myself—Lavok Lestrange, leader of the Blasphemous Sword."
"Kevin."
Reaching out to shake hands with the imposing figure before him, Evans felt the tremendous magical power radiating from the man and narrowed his eyes slightly.
Lestrange's eyes flashed with a hint of subtle surprise, as if he had sensed something that didn't match his expectations.
But he said nothing, slowly releasing Evans's hand with an open smile.
"Mr. Kevin looks quite young. You haven't been to a Blasphemous Sword base before?"
"That's right. I'd appreciate Leader Lestrange's guidance," Evans nodded.
"Ah, it's just a small base, hardly worth introducing."
The middle-aged man waved his hand dismissively. "Our base is located in the northwest corner of Rome, with permanent members..."
The two seemed to chat quite familiarly, but beneath the harmonious atmosphere, Evans sensed something was off.
All of this person's behavior fit his rough-hewn image perfectly, but Evans detected... a trace of performance.
Normal people couldn't detect such subtle acting, but as someone who frequently performed for his own amusement, Evans could smell the scent of a fellow actor.
This was also understandable. A simple rough man might make a decent bandit leader but couldn't possibly build a wizard organization that would be remembered in history.
However, this persona was easier to trust and could inspire genuine loyalty.
A calculating mastermind with meticulous thoughts.
Labeling the man in his mind, Evans began carefully listening to his introduction.
A few minutes later, Lestrange turned his head and asked what seemed like a casual question.
"May I ask what brings Mr. Kevin to our base?"
His tone was conversational, but Evans could see his hand already hovering near his wand—a deliberately guarded gesture.
At this moment, Della finally found a chance to interject.
"Leader, Mr. Kevin accepted my commission to help rescue Loris and the others..." As she spoke, Della suddenly noticed the leader's head drop slightly, guilt flickering in his eyes.
"Leader?"
Without responding immediately, the middle-aged man fell silent before speaking softly.
"I'm sorry, Della. The rescue operation... has been canceled."
"How could that be?" Della's eyes filled with disbelief. "Didn't we already decide to rescue them tonight?"
"We received intelligence that tonight, the church will conduct a trial, and all dungeons will be under enhanced lockdown. Several conservative members believe tonight isn't a good time for action."
"But... they'll be burned at the stake tomorrow!"
Della's voice cracked with urgency, as if she couldn't believe the leader would make such a decision.
"I'm very sorry."
Lestrange's expression looked genuinely dejected. After another long silence, he forced himself to brighten and show a smile.
"Della, show Mr. Kevin around our base. You can also visit some nearby Muggle buildings. The scenery here is quite beautiful. Although Rome has fallen, the architecture left by this civilization still holds artistic beauty."
"I hope your trip won't be in vain."
After speaking, he smiled with visible effort, turned and left, leaving only a somewhat lonely figure behind.
Watching that retreating form, desolation gradually rose in Della's heart.
Had the factional struggles within the Blasphemous Sword reached the point where even the leader couldn't influence them?
Beside her, watching the middle-aged man disappear around the corner, Evans's expression gradually grew cold.
This person gave him a deeply uncomfortable feeling.
For some reason, although Lestrange appeared to be a hero who had fought with everything for wizards' freedom—even his regret at being unable to save his companions seemed genuine—there was always a subtle aura of slaughter about him.
The fairy's danger sense told him that even in prime condition, he might not be a match for this person. Perhaps with a few combat-capable companions he could put up a fight, but that alone spoke volumes.
Lestrange was only slightly weaker than Dumbledore and Miss Bellance. Someone capable of independently establishing such a massive organization—if this cohesion and leadership weren't used for righteous purposes, his destructive power would reach terrifying heights.
A strange light flashed in Evans's eyes. Looking at the figure ahead, the air behind him twisted, vaguely outlining the silhouette of a unicorn.
The next second, endless crimson completely flooded his vision.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Kevin. I didn't expect the rescue plan had already been canceled."
Walking through a narrow alley, Della forced a smile onto her face.
But her slightly trembling hands and reddened eyes betrayed that her mood was far from good.
"Don't be too dejected. Maybe there will still be some opportunity," Evans comforted her.
Although he said this, he didn't hold much hope for any so-called turning point either. If they knew where those people were being held, there might still be room for maneuvering. But now Della didn't even know their location—even if she wanted to rescue them, she wouldn't know where to start.
"Thank you, Mr. Kevin."
Looking at Della's continued dejection, Evans shook his head slightly.
That leader had mentioned there would be a trial tonight. He remembered the initial text had instructed him to destroy the nighttime judgment ritual.
He needed to find a way to learn the specific location of that trial.
But with his current strength, destroying the judgment would probably require external help. Unfortunately, the Blasphemous Sword's operation was canceled—otherwise he could have borrowed their power directly.
Thinking of the Blasphemous Sword, he couldn't help but recall the crimson aura he'd seen around Lavok Lestrange.
That endless red had almost made him shut off the unicorn's talent entirely. He'd forcibly maintained his rationality to suppress the urge to draw his wand.
Just how many of his own kind had this person killed to condense such a heavy bloody aura? It could even materialize into visible light.
Before this, the person he'd seen with the heaviest killing intent was a dark wizard he'd caught in Egypt who had slaughtered an entire Muggle village for bounty money. But even that monster didn't have one-tenth of the bloodlight radiating from this leader.
When Lestrange was making introductions, Evans had particularly listened to the member roster. He'd heard many names he'd memorized—several had even appeared on Chocolate Frog cards. They had all died of old age without suffering.
Was what he needed to change really this organization's fate?
Shaking his head, Evans buried those thoughts and looked at the girl beside him again.
Although disappointed, she was still dutifully leading the way, clearly taking the leader's words to heart.
But sister, didn't your leader tell you to show me around the base? I'm still waiting to ask people from your organization about the trial location! At the very least, we should visit some scenic spots, right?
Evans looked around. What met his eyes was a desolate Muggle alley.
Where the hell did you bring me?
But he said nothing. Miss Ollivander was obviously in a bad mood—he shouldn't add to her dejection.
Maybe a Muggle alley has its own unique charm?
Just as Evans was thinking this, the faint sound of clashing armor reached his ears.
Della instantly grabbed his arm in what seemed like a stress response, pulling him toward the alley's shadows. A few seconds later, a group of heavily armored knights without helmets walked past on a nearby road, heading toward the street corner.
Watching those retreating figures, Evans's eyes slowly lit up.
Wait, why am I looking for Blasphemous Sword members to gather information? If anyone knows the most about the trial, it would definitely be these church knights! They're the ones maintaining order—they'd definitely know the specific location.
Thinking this way, Evans planned to bid farewell to his wand's creator and follow those knights.
As for the wand payment, he'd already given it to her descendant three hundred years later—it wasn't like he hadn't paid.
But when Evans turned around, he suddenly discovered that the girl beside him seemed frozen, staring motionlessly in the direction where the knights had disappeared.
"What's wrong?"
"They... it was them who took Loris away..."
The girl's voice was barely a whisper, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing.
"But they were captured in England. How could they appear here?"
Murmuring to herself, after a moment the girl suddenly gripped Evans's arm tightly—like grasping the last straw before drowning.
"Can you take me to follow them, Mr. Kevin? Follow them and see where they're going? That must be where Loris and the others are being held!"
"I'll pay you! Not just that wand—all my savings can be yours! Please..."
Looking at the girl's pleading gaze, then at the team of judgment knights that had disappeared around the corner, Evans's lips slowly curved upward.
He chuckled softly, and wisps of pitch-black smoke began floating from the hem of his clothes. The smoke gathered and thickened, soon completely enveloping both him and the girl.
Then, like melting into the alley's shadows, they completely disappeared.
[Chapter Complete]
***
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