When he stepped out of the portal, Noah found himself once again in the Forbidden Forest, standing before the massive stone covered in runes.
But then the great stone trembled and shattered into pieces. Now, the only way in was with the card he had received.
"What a night." He laughed happily, tucked the card away, and pulled on the mask.
Then he ran to leave the forest.
As he made his way out, Noah couldn't help but think about how oddly friendly his interaction with the gatekeeper had been.
Looking back, he had practically let his guard down, speaking to the golem as though it could never attack him.
"Some kind of magic in that place made me act like that?" He was curious, but he couldn't recall feeling anything.
He decided next time he would pay closer attention.
Lost in thought, he let his guard slip as he walked, and that delay made him realize something was different about this part of the forest.
He stopped and looked around. Everything felt darker than usual.
And in this forest, that was saying something.
It took him a few seconds to notice what it was—an oppressive aura filled the air.
Before, this part of the forest had always been cold, lifeless, damp, and eerie.
But it had just been a frightening forest.
Now, however, there was another kind of chill in the air. A heavy aura lingered, and it almost felt like whispers of mourning drifted through the trees.
Noah's eyes widened as he realized what it was.
Death. Pain. Despair.
The place was saturated with suffering, filled with the chill of death itself.
'I passed through here not long ago. How could it have changed so suddenly?' he wondered, scanning his surroundings.
Every instinct screamed at him to leave as quickly as possible—he shouldn't be here, not right now.
But then he felt it. His body froze, hair standing on end, eyes watering, heart skipping a beat.
It was as if a demon from the pits of hell was watching him from the shadows.
As if the Reaper himself was there, scythe raised, ready to claim his soul.
Noah slowly turned toward the gaze.
There, glowing within the forest's darkness, was a pair of red eyes staring straight at him.
Between Noah and those eyes, a small unicorn stumbled forward, trembling and crying. The moment it saw Noah, it ran to him.
It was rare for unicorns to trust men—rare for them to approach people at all. Yet this little one didn't hesitate, as though Noah was either its savior...
...or a shield of flesh.
The unicorn tugged desperately at Noah's robes with its teeth, but he didn't look down. He didn't dare take his eyes off the glowing red gaze.
The figure rose, tall as a man. His dark robes swayed, revealing the body of a bleeding, still-living adult unicorn beneath.
The silence in the forest grew heavier, suffocating.
The two of them stared each other down, motionless. It was a silent scream.
One figure wore a hood, only his crimson eyes burning in the dark.
The other wore a black mask, hollow openings for eyes—black voids staring back.
And then, time seemed to stop. One second stretched into eternity.
When the unicorn stepped on a branch and snapped it, both made their move.
From beneath the hood, a jet of green light shot forward—death to anyone it touched.
But Noah was already moving. His wand swept upward, and a wall of earth rose between him and the killing curse.
It all happened in an instant. The jet struck, the wall shattered—but the spell was stopped.
The explosion sent dirt flying everywhere, and Noah, seizing the moment, launched a counterattack.
A ball of black fire shot forward and exploded.
He prepared a second spell but froze.
The light from his flames illuminated the forest.
And what it revealed paralyzed him.
Bodies hung from the trees.
Centaurs, broken like rag dolls, mutilated. Their faces twisted in agony and fear—their final emotions before death.
Noah's body shook. A long-lost feeling gripped his soul.
Fear.
For the first time since arriving in this world, he felt true fear.
Then the flames burned out.
From within the fading glow, the hooded figure stood unmoving.
Of course, Noah knew who he was.
And in that brief encounter, everything he thought he knew about Voldemort crumbled.
There was only one thought left in his mind.
The Dark Lord who had terrorized Britain deserved every ounce of fear his name inspired.
He deserved the taboo placed on his name.
Voldemort was a monster.
Amid the corpses of centaurs, with a half-dead unicorn at his feet, he stared at Noah.
He wasn't just a powerful wizard. He was death incarnate.
Of course his name was taboo.
Who would dare speak the name of death itself?
And in that silence, a voice whispered.
"Weak." The raspy tone carried on the wind, declaring his superiority.
Then, just as Noah had attacked with fire, Voldemort responded in kind.
It was as though he wanted to say: I can do better.
A serpent of smoke-like flames slithered forward, striking at Noah.
Noah stood frozen, eyes wide, body trembling with fear. Behind him, the unicorn quivered.
The serpent engulfed them, erupting in an explosion.
Again, that vile voice rasped out:
"Weak."
The same word. As though it was all the masked fool before him deserved.
For Voldemort—weak in recent days—the unicorn's blood had restored a fragment of vitality. Quirrell's frail body would serve a little longer.
'Where were we?' He licked his lips, crouching to drink from the unicorn again.
But then he stopped.
From the fading flames, the masked figure still stood, untouched, the unicorn alive behind him with its eyes tightly shut.
Voldemort narrowed his eyes. Not a single burn.
Noah's wide-eyed look was still there...
But no.
Something had changed.
That wasn't fear anymore.
It was madness.
Noah trembled, his heart pounding like a drum.
Placing his hand on his chest, he felt it beating wildly, as if ready to burst from his body.
It was exhilarating.
After years without fear, to feel it again—it was incredible.
It lit a fire inside him.
Since coming to this world, he had always felt strong. His magic bent to his will. He wasn't the strongest, far from it, but he was never weak.
He could walk anywhere without fear. The dangers of this world never haunted him.
At the mansion, he lived far from filth.
At Hogwarts, he fought a troll—yet it hadn't truly threatened him. He could face trolls any time, hundreds of them.
Centaurs, spiders, the golem in his inheritance trial—difficult, yes, but never life-threatening.
Death had never breathed down his neck.
But now...
The corpses. The despair. Voldemort's presence.
For a moment, he wasn't arrogant or fearless.
For a moment, he was mortal before a demon.
For a moment, he was a rat.
But he wasn't a rat. He was a phoenix, reborn to be eternal.
Fear only reminded him he was alive. All living beings fear death. But Noah would not.
He wanted to defeat death. He wanted to be immortal, to soar the skies without equal.
How could he do that if he trembled before another? If all he could do when faced with danger was run?
A smile spread across his face, eyes trembling with excitement. Here, now, he had found a true opponent—someone who demanded his all.
How could he not be thrilled?
His grin turned devilish as he said:
"Weak."
Clearly referring to Voldemort's last attack.
If snake-face wanted to use fire against him, he'd have to do better.
When was the last time Voldemort had been called weak?
Perhaps never.
His power was terrifying, and his ego even more so.
Voldemort hissed, flicking his wand.
"Crucio." He wanted to hear Noah scream, if only for a moment, before killing him.
But he seemed to forget Noah had already blocked an unforgivable curse once. The result was the same: a wall of earth rose to defend.
"Is that all?"
Noah's masked voice was deep and cold.
He, too, held terrifying power, matched only by his arrogance.
It was a clash of mighty, arrogant wizards. Neither in peak condition—but both determined to fight.
"I've always wanted to use an Unforgivable myself," Noah said. With a flick of his wand, a green bolt shot toward Voldemort.
Snake-face waved his wand casually, redirecting the curse into a fallen tree, which shattered instantly.
"Didn't like that one much," Noah muttered, unimpressed.
His grin widened. "I prefer... Burn."
Once again, the forest lit up as massive flames surged from his wand, devouring everything in their path.
Voldemort twirled his wand, twisting the fire, then clenched his other hand, extinguishing it in an instant.
But hidden within the flames was something else—dozens of wooden stakes, shooting forward like arrows.
Voldemort flicked his wand and raised his left hand. The stakes froze, then shattered, bursting back toward Noah at fivefold speed.
It all took longer to describe than to happen.
A blink, a mistake, and you were dead.
Noah didn't flinch. He simply snapped his fingers. The stakes vanished.
The two faced each other again, then moved, spells erupting where they had stood a heartbeat before.
Explosions shook the forest, spells flying back and forth.
Noah didn't only use fire. The world itself bent to his will.
The ground swallowed Voldemort, only for the snake-faced monster to burst into shadows, blasting a crater.
Noah ripped trees from the earth, pulling them into a vortex above the crater.
"Infernal Prison," he declared, a stone cage forming.
But then—
A chill down his spine.
A jet of green light shot toward him.
Wood began to rise as a shield—then Noah remembered. You couldn't block that curse with magic.
At the last instant, he pulled the ground up.
The explosion threw him back. Another jet of green followed.
Midair, Noah slapped the ground and used the blast to redirect himself, landing on a tree trunk.
The moment his feet touched, he jumped again—just as a red spell obliterated the tree.
Voldemort favored the killing curse. The green jets came relentlessly.
And Noah finally understood why it was feared.
You couldn't defend with spells or barriers. Only something solid could stand between you and it.
Once? Fine.
Twice? Possible.
Dozens of times? Russian roulette.
Noah's own spells grew deadlier, but Voldemort brushed them aside with ease. His combat experience and magical knowledge were leagues above Noah's.
He had no techniques sharp enough to pierce Voldemort's defenses.
Only raw power.
But even unleashing ten lances of fire at once wasn't enough. Voldemort stopped them all.
Noah knew this would be difficult, but he had still underestimated him.
Still—Voldemort's pace was slowing. His lack of a true body was catching up to him.
But Noah, too, was drained.
It was time for the final attack.
He leapt back, buying himself the space he needed.
In his spare time, he had created spells of his own.
Most of his magic was raw manipulation—no incantations, no names.
But a few were different.
True spells, his own creations.
Infernal Prison was one.
But there was another.
Not yet complete—his understanding of fire wasn't deep enough—but it was his strongest offensive spell.
Now, he would unleash it. Win or lose, the battle would end.
He raised his wand.
"Let the world burn to my will."
A tiny spark, no larger than a grain of rice, appeared in the sky.
It grew. A tennis ball. A basketball.
Bigger than a car.
Bigger than a house.
A colossal sphere of flame hovered above, heat radiating as though it would melt the world itself.
"Little Sun." He pointed his wand at Voldemort. "Descend."
It all happened in mere breaths. One moment Noah launched a simple fireball. The next—a sun fell upon the forest.
Voldemort didn't flee. He raised his wand, preparing to block and finish the fight. He was tired of wasting energy on this masked fool.
Noah didn't stay still. He sprinted away at high speed, the mother unicorn and her child following.
Voldemort scowled. He wouldn't let them escape.
With his right hand he prepared his defense. With his left, he prepared to stop Noah.
And then—
The little sun touched his defense.
And tore through it like paper.
Explosion!
The moment it struck the ground, the sun detonated, devouring everything for dozens of meters around.
The flames didn't scatter. They swirled, as if their only purpose was to annihilate.
It was a perfect spell of destruction—immense power condensed into one point.
Light consumed the dark forest.
The little sun descended upon the world.