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Chapter 96 - The Most Serious Theft

Even in the wizarding world, there are some basic rules of logic, no one suddenly becomes a genius, and no wizard just turns into a total dud overnight.

As for Allen's so-called "Merlin's blessing," the young witches and wizards naturally didn't believe it. But no one pried further, since these things were considered personal secrets; whatever knowledge they'd gained was their own magical capital.

For wizards, spells, potion knowledge, and casting techniques were like treasured heirlooms passed down through generations, what Hogwarts professors taught was only the bare basics.

Why were Voldemort's Death Eaters so powerful? Because they had guidance from the Dark Lord himself, improved curses and cutting-edge magic.

Why did a simple flame spell wield such power in Dumbledore's hands? Not just because of his vast magical strength, but because he had rewritten that spell himself.

Just like Ron, who learned a powerful curse in his second year, every wizarding family had unique spell legacies. Harry barely learned any offensive spells by graduation, and Hermione's lack of combat prowess was simply because the school didn't teach many attack spells.

Thus, most Muggle-born young wizards, unless especially gifted enough to join the Ministry or stay on as Professors, ended up with careers similar to Voldemort's early years, working in magical shops.

As for offensive magic, most learning happened during the rigorous Auror training after the third year, training so tough that not every third-year student even became an Auror.

It wasn't stinginess on the school's part; these were agreements negotiated multiple times between Hogwarts, the Ministry, and ancient magical families. Besides, widespread distribution of offensive spells only meant more chaos, which no one wanted.

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Leaks of dark magic caused huge problems for the Ministry. But Allen's current trouble was worse than the Ministry finding volumes of offensive dark magic being printed.

Because he discovered something had been stolen!

Theft could be simple mischief, like the one Luna experienced, but it could also mean greed, someone taking what wasn't theirs.

Allen's worst fear had always been those gifted books buried under the bottom of his trunk. But now, what was lost was tens of thousands of times worse, those books might have made him and his roommates slack off, but what was stolen now was deadly serious!

That night, after expertly opening the door to the "Wish-Granting Room," Allen made his way to the inscribed stone tablet where he had already recorded half its contents. If all went well, within a week he'd fully acquire the legacy of a great hero, though at the cost of strict cultivation during that week.

But just as he prepared to memorize the inscriptions as usual, he realized much of the writing was missing!

This discovery made his heart sink. He tried to recall the remaining parts, but aside from small fragments, the rest was like a puzzle missing its key pieces, nothing fit together anymore.

Damn it!

Who had stolen this knowledge?

In anger, Allen slammed his fist on the stone, wincing from the sharp pain, forcing himself to calm down. It wasn't all bad, the fragmented legacy was almost incomprehensible to anyone without the beginning he'd captured.

The real question was, who did this? How did they manage to steal part of the legacy written in a script he didn't even recognize?

And, who was this thief? Did they know Allen's identity? Or worse, did they plan to kill him? Was it an unwitting student, a house-elf gone astray, a professor, a ghost, or even Dumbledore?

Anything was possible, even Filch, the school caretaker who seemed useless, might be the one, if his magic resonated with the tablet's power.

No one knew for sure. Allen could only do his best to patch up the damage, memorizing as much as he could before the thief returned, but the results were nearly useless.

The missing parts simply couldn't be committed to memory. Even with his strong recall, the legacy remained incomplete, like a stone tablet eroded by centuries of sandstorms, missing countless characters.

When he reached his limit, holding his aching temples, Allen glanced once more at the tablet. All the hero legacies were in tatters, neither he nor the thief could obtain a complete inheritance now.

The next mission was clear: catch the thief, and kill them!

If he caught them in the bathroom, he'd drown them there; if in the Forbidden Forest, he'd bury their bones among the trees. Since this person was so interested in Allen's belongings, Allen would send them to meet Merlin, permanently.

Fueled by rage, he kicked the tablet hard.

Then Allen froze.

Troubles never come singly…

At that very moment, something just as serious as the loss of the legacy happened, in the corner of his eye, he saw the ugly statue of a male wizard and that ridiculous wig, except now, the thing on top of the wig was gone!

To be precise, that soul artifact, which had been lying right under Allen's nose, waiting to be destroyed like a cooked duck ready for the pot, had disappeared along with the inscriptions!

God! Allen felt like he was going crazy. Losing a soul artifact, did that mean Voldemort would resurrect ahead of time? He'd altered some world lines, but there was no way such a huge change should happen!

Wait, he controlled his emotions and carefully checked the dusty patch of ground he rarely used. There, two rows of footprints remained, evidence someone had passed through here.

Allen's tightly clenched heart finally eased slightly, the soul artifact had been taken, not resurrected by itself. That meant Voldemort's return was still some ways off, even if whoever took it was drawn by its power.

So, his burden grew heavier, catch the damn thief, recover the soul artifact, and do it before it's too late.

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