The entire process took about two seconds—what Wyzett now considered the "casting windup."
With the shield lasting only two seconds, and the "casting windup" adding another two, the word "instant" in Ancient Magic: Instant Shield suddenly felt like a bit of a stretch.
If this was all it could do, it would hardly be useful in a real duel. Honestly, he'd be better off transforming his body into Devil's Snare Form for full coverage—at least that might offer better protection.
Wyzett wandered over to the window, gazing out at the lush, rolling grasslands. He wondered if there was any way to streamline the process.
"Maybe if I use my wand as a focus, I can cut down the casting time…"
He murmured the thought aloud, drawing his wand from his pocket.
Custodis Meditatio (Guardian's Meditation)—that familiar, lucid feeling washed over him.
He lifted his wand with a gentle flick, and the bubble-like magical shield shimmered into existence, wrapping him in its glow.
The "casting windup" dropped to just one second. His theory was right.
The wand could shorten the time it took for Custodis Meditatio to control the Obscurus core, reducing the overall casting delay.
Not only that, the wand seemed to act like a "receiver"—he could sense, however faintly, the process of meditation channeling the core's power through it.
The sensation was subtle, but it was there. If he kept practicing and kept careful notes, he was sure he could shave down the "casting windup" for Ancient Magic: Instant Shield even further.
He had a hunch he could cut it in half again.
And once he truly mastered the control, maybe he could even shorten the windup for wandless casting.
With that goal in mind, he dove back into practice.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. We hope you have a pleasant day."
As the deep, booming voice faded, the Viking longship statue slowly slid aside, revealing a finely carved spruce door. Scenes of Viking ships conquering the seas were etched into its surface.
The middle-aged man with the goat's beard smiled faintly, his fingertip tracing the door. "The brave Viking wizards of old are gone. Now it's just a bunch of cowardly Swedish wizards, isn't it?"
Beside him, the pale man lowered his gaze, a flicker of hatred in his eyes. "Yes… exactly."
The goateed man nodded, satisfied. "Then let's begin! Department of Mysteries—"
"I know," the pale man interrupted with a wave. "I want the gun. And if there's time, I'll take the eyeball too."
"Of course. Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please, after you!" The goateed man opened the door, gesturing grandly.
Beyond was a space the size of a phone booth, a ship's wheel mounted on the wall. Letters glimmered on the handles: Ministry of Magic Main Hall (Lobby and Reception).
Each man gripped a handle. Instantly, blue light flared, swallowing them both.
The Swedish Ministry's main hall resembled the belly of a vast ship: thick, fluffy carpets underfoot, vibrant tapestries and woven fabrics draping the walls.
In the center stood an ice sculpture—a tall, broad-shouldered wizard.
Every so often, the statue would raise its wand, transforming the oceanic scene on the ceiling—sometimes wild storms, sometimes gentle calm.
Bubbles floated along both sides of the hall, carrying wizards in and out.
They passed through security like any other visitors, then entered a small side cabin, which also featured a ship's wheel.
Most of the labels on the wheel's handles glowed, except for the one marked "Department of Mysteries"—that one remained dim.
"Visitors can't get in there…" the goateed man sighed. "Looks like you'll have to improvise."
The pale man shot him a look. "Didn't you arrange any help?"
"Our people are too valuable," the goateed man replied smoothly. "And the target's just an eyeball. Why waste resources?"
"I'm only here to supervise and play tour guide… Forgive my bluntness."
"Whatever." The pale man took a slow breath, his voice flat. But though his face barely moved, his fists clenched so tightly the veins stood out.
The cabin was full now. As the wheel spun, the group began to move through the Ministry…
Suddenly, the pale man started trembling. The shaking grew more violent, almost convulsive, as wisps of black mist seeped from his features.
As his tremors intensified, the entire cabin lurched. Wizards nearby sensed something wrong and turned—only to see a massive cloud of black fog swelling behind them.
It looked like a thunderhead, seething and dark, shot through with streaks of crimson light.
"What in Merlin's name is that—?"
"How did the Ministry let that thing in?!"
"It's… an Obscurus! It's an Obscurus! It's going to kill us!"
"Hurry up," the goateed man whispered, then abruptly joined the panic, shrieking, "I don't want to die! I don't want to die!"
Even as he pushed toward the crowd, his lips curled in a delighted smile.
His antics only made the chaos worse.
Wizards screamed, desperate to draw their wands, but the cramped, panicked crowd left no room to cast spells.
The cabin rocked like a boat in a hurricane, ready to capsize at any moment…
A piercing alarm shattered the Ministry's calm. The entire building seemed to tremble as thunderous crashes echoed through the halls.
The black mist around the Obscurus surged, half the cabin disintegrating into dust and sending debris swirling through the air.
Chunks of stone and brick rained down, but nothing could touch the Obscurus—everything simply dissolved into powder.
Without hesitation, it dove downward, smashing through six walls in succession, until it reached a pitch-black circular chamber lined with doors leading deeper into the Ministry.
The Department of Mysteries—a fixture in nearly every country's Ministry of Magic.
Here, secret research was conducted. Most projects were top secret; even Ministry staff rarely knew what happened inside.
The Obscurus reformed into the shape of the pale man. After a brief pause, he closed his eyes. The black mist swirled around him, then suddenly faded, replaced by a faint silver-blue glow.
The light gathered slowly, forming an arrow that rotated before pointing at one of the doors.
The pale man's eyes snapped open. His face was utterly colorless, his gaze dull and sunken.
"Cough… cough…"
He hacked painfully, then transformed back into the Obscurus, surging toward the door the arrow indicated…
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