[Conditions for Immortal Rank Advancement:] [Condition 1: Break through the magic limit (Completed)] [Condition 2: Soul fusion rate exceeds 90% (Completed)] [Condition 3: Defeat one of the Incarnations of Destiny!] [Note: Immortal Rank is a prerequisite for advancing to Tier 4 Painting Skill!]
Whoosh—
A cascade of warm, golden light poured over Ethan like summer rain after a long winter. He closed his eyes and let it sink into his skin, every exhausted cell drinking it in greedily. The vast ocean of magic that had been drained dry inside him refilled in an instant. Fatigue melted away as though it had never existed.
"Ninety percent…" he whispered, lips curling into a wicked, delighted grin. "Finally."
He flicked his wand—no, his paintbrush now—and slashed a blazing arc of pure color across the night sky. It hung there for a heartbeat, shimmering like liquid starlight, then burst into a thousand silent sparks.
"And the path beyond Seer just unlocked itself. How thoughtful."
Ethan tilted his head, mock-serious. "Lord Voldemort, you absolute sweetheart. You really shouldn't have."
Every major leap in soul fusion had come right after he'd pummeled that noseless drama queen into the ground. Coincidence? He thought not.
[Warning! You have severely disrupted the course of destiny, stealing souls from the very grasp of Death!] [Death now watches you constantly.] [It will never stop trying to take your life.]
BOOM.
A pressure like the sky itself falling pinned every living thing in place. Ethan looked straight up.
High above the torn clouds, a single blood-red eye stared down—ancient, indifferent, endless. Its voice rolled through his bones like distant thunder.
[Was it truly worth it… for these ants?]
Ethan answered before he even thought about it, voice bright and sharp enough to cut glass.
"Ask me again when I punch you in the pupil."
The eye blinked once—slow, almost amused—then vanished, forcibly ejected from the world like an unwanted guest.
Behind him, a roar of pure joy exploded.
"ETHAN!!!"
He turned.
The edge of the crater was packed with people—friends, professors, students—faces streaked with blood and soot and tears, every one of them screaming his name like it was the only word left in the world.
Dumbledore, eyes shining suspiciously bright, stumbled toward the portrait in his arms—Ariana smiling out at him as if she'd only stepped away for tea.
Snape stalked through the wounded, barking orders, looking two seconds away from force-feeding everyone Veritaserum just for breathing wrong.
The Weasley twins, absolutely filthy, were lobbing leftover fireworks into the air while whooping like banshees. McGonagall's eyebrow was twitching so hard it had its own heartbeat.
Hermione had tackled Harry in a hug so fierce they both went down in a tangle of limbs and relieved sobbing. Something about "I thought you'd been made into Voldemort stew, you absolute turnip!"
Cedric—alive, whole, grinning like an idiot—was being crushed between his father and Harry while hoisting the Triwizard Cup sky-high. "We're champions!" he bellowed, voice cracking. "Hufflepuff's champions!"
And then the students swarmed.
Hundreds of them poured down the crater walls like a black-and-colored tide, robes flapping, voices rising until the very stones shook.
They hoisted Ethan up on their shoulders before he could protest (not that he would have), tossing him higher with every chant.
"Ethan! Ethan! ETHAN!"
"Ethan Vincent beat Voldemort! Ethan's our Savior!"
The sound became physical—waves of it crashing over the ruined maze, rolling across the lake, rattling the castle windows.
He let it wash through him, sharp and sweet and terrifying, because for the first time in his life he actually felt it: He was theirs, and they were his.
The clouds tore apart. Moonlight and starlight spilled down like forgiveness.
Ethan raised one hand. Instantly the crowd quieted, breathless.
He stood steady atop a hundred clasped hands and looked out over a sea of faces that would follow him into hell if he asked.
"Voldemort is finished," he called, voice carrying without effort, dark and velvet and edged with laughter. "But he was never the real enemy."
A ripple of confusion.
Ethan's smile turned razor-sharp, beautiful and terrible.
"Something bigger is coming. Something that thinks it's already won because it wrote the rules."
He threw both arms wide, paintbrush-wand flashing.
"I say we break its rules. I say we burn its script and write a better one in the ashes."
A pause—just long enough for the night to hold its breath.
Then the Weasley twins started it: a single, earsplitting cheer that turned into a roar, a war-cry, a promise.
Ethan laughed—low, delighted, the sound of someone who'd just realized the universe had made a very serious mistake underestimating him.
"Fight on, my friends!" he shouted over the thunder of their voices. "From this moment forward, the world is permanently set to hard mode—and we're speed-running the damn thing!"
Fireworks—real ones, spell-born and glorious—exploded overhead in every color imaginable.
Cedric was sobbing into his dad's shoulder while still somehow holding the cup aloft.
Harry, flat on his back and grinning like a lunatic, muttered to Ron, "You know what? I think I could take you at Wizard's Chess now."
Ron blinked. "What?"
"I finally get it," Harry said, eyes bright with something new and steady. "Thinking three moves ahead. Not running in wand-first like a bloody gryphon with a death wish."
Sirius Black came barreling out of nowhere, seized Harry by the cheeks, and started shaking him like a broken Sneakoscope.
"Harry! Pup! Are you hurt? Talk to me—say something—"
"I'm fine, Sirius, but if you keep rattling my brain I won't be!"
Sirius just yanked him into a bone-crushing hug instead.
Across the crater, Ethan's gaze found Luna.
She stood apart from the chaos, silver-pale in the moonlight, smiling that soft, knowing smile that always made him feel like she'd already seen the ending and liked it anyway.
Can't get rid of me that easily, her eyes said.
Ethan's heart did something complicated and warm. He winked at her—slow, deliberate, a promise all its own.
Then he turned back to the crowd, lifted his paintbrush high, and painted one final streak across the sky: a blazing golden phoenix that screamed defiance at the stars.
[Congratulations!] [You have earned the admiration and unwavering support of countless souls!] [Lamp brightness significantly increased!] [You have obtained "Ancient Magic: Gravity Magic Scroll Fragment"!]
Somewhere far beyond the veil, Death narrowed its eyes and began sharpening its scythe.
Ethan just grinned wider.
Let it come. He'd always wanted to see if cosmic entities could appreciate a good pun right before they got drop-kicked into next week.
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