strictlysupreme Chapter 107 Avada Kedavra
Chapter 107 Avada Kedavra
Chapter 107 Avada Kedavra
Several deep, abyss-like black holes emerged from the twisted, swaying shadows of the soul, eerily piecing together indistinct human facial features.
The hollow eye sockets were fixed on Lin Qi, filled with endless resentment. The shadow's mouth opened into an astonishingly large maw, letting out a silent roar at Lin Qi.
Voldemort discovered that the thick stone wall he had struggled to penetrate had vanished.
Lynch stood where the Maurice Mirror should have been in the center of the room.
The room was not intact; on the contrary, it had just experienced a devastating explosion: the air was thick with the scorching smell of gunpowder and lingering magic, the ground was blackened, and rubble and wood chips were scattered everywhere.
The walls of the room were replaced by white stone bricks and then disappeared, turning into a larger space.
That ancient, mysterious magic mirror, filled with endless legends, was completely destroyed in the violent explosion just now.
Thousands upon thousands of fragments of varying sizes were scattered everywhere, like a layer of crystalline frost spread across the ground. Each fragment coldly reflected the mess in the room and the figure standing in the center.
Lynch's feet were firmly planted on the sharp lenses, making an extremely faint, almost inaudible clicking sound.
The fragments scattered at his feet, like countless broken eyes, pieced together from various angles to create an image of him standing upside down, fragmented yet strangely complete.
In the glasses, his figure was as upright as a pine tree, his exquisite suit was impeccable, and his cleanliness was incongruous with the dirt and chaos around him.
It was clear that the devastating storm had not touched him at all.
What Voldemort found most unbearable was the expression on his face—a calm, even slightly mocking smile that delivered the sharpest sarcasm to his current wolfish and desperate state.
This smile was more piercing to the proud and arrogant Dark Lord than the most vicious curse.
"Leaving without even saying goodbye to the master," Lin Qi said, his voice steady, with just the right amount of reproach, more like a leisurely teasing tone, "I think that's a bit rude."
These seemingly casual words, like the last spark igniting a powder keg, completely detonated the turbulent emotions within Voldemort's remnant soul.
The pride that belonged to the Dark Lord, deep in his soul, the ruthlessness rooted in his blood, and the rage that arose from being looked down upon and provoked by his enemies, instantly overwhelmed his urgent desire to escape at all costs.
He frantically gathered the little remaining soul energy in this remnant soul, and the shadowy form fluctuated violently, emitting a silent yet sharp roar that was enough to tear apart the mental barrier of an ordinary wizard and crush their will!
Then, the shadow of the soul, like a venomous serpent, carrying the purest malice and destructive impulse, suddenly pounced on the still Lin Qi!
In this detached, pure soul state, he was unable to wave his wand and cast a variety of exquisite spells as he had when possessing Quirrell.
But this does not mean he has become harmless.
On the contrary, this was a move he discovered and honed during his forced survival and exile, and it was his final and most fatal move—stripping away all the fancy stuff and directly using the essence of his own soul to impact and tear apart the souls of other lives!
This is the most savage, primal, and dangerous collision of souls.
A combat tactic that kills a thousand enemies but also inflicts eight hundred casualties on oneself.
Rushing into the bodies of other beings, directly impacting and tearing apart their souls—this was the only way his remnant soul could deal with the unfortunate Muggles and weak creatures who accidentally noticed him, after his physical body was accidentally destroyed ten years ago, as it struggled and wandered all the way from Godric Valley to the Dark Forest of Albania.
If he hadn't created multiple Horcruxes, and through the top-tier dark magic originating from the dark wizard Helbo, not only torn his soul apart to escape death, but also, through repeated tearing and tempering by dark magic rituals, made his soul essence far more resilient and powerful than that of ordinary wizards, he would never have dared to use this technique.
This was his only and final move.
Each use would severely deplete his precious soul energy, plunging him into a deeper and longer period of weakness.
But Voldemort no longer cared—he wouldn't die anyway.
He was consumed by boundless rage, and his only thought now was to make this self-righteous "hanger" who had repeatedly ruined his plans and even tried to humiliate him taste the ultimate pain of having his soul torn apart and crushed!
Faced with Voldemort's soul, which had transformed into a hideous shadow and was charging forward with overwhelming malice.
Lin Qi's eyes narrowed slightly, revealing a serious expression.
He raised his hand, his fingers slightly spread, and grabbed at the distorted shadow in mid-air.
"Soul-reaping ritual!"
In an instant, countless invisible ropes, emanating a chilling aura, seemed to condense in the air, like tentacles that had caught the scent of blood, sweeping over and entangling Voldemort's soul!
However, the next moment, something amazing happened.
All those magical ropes, imbued with the power to bind and tear, passed through the rolling shadow without any hindrance.
It was like piercing through a void, without even a ripple or a disturbance.
It was as if Voldemort's soul was merely a projected phantom, not existing in this physical space at all.
Lin Qi showed no sign of panic despite the attack failing.
He waved his hands rapidly, his movements so fast they left afterimages. In an instant, one spell after another rained down on the approaching shadowy soul.
A ghostly blue flame erupted from his fingertips; a violent gust of wind arose out of nowhere; and beams of pure white light shot out like arrows.
All sorts of colorful and powerful spells seemed to pass through a non-existent illusion, flowing straight through the surging shadows without causing any effect.
A cold and sinister smugness surged within Voldemort's remaining, distorted consciousness.
This was precisely one of his few advantages—almost absolute immunity—when he lingered in the world in this pathetic, remnant form.
Ordinary spells and attacks have no effect on him at all.
This feeling of detachment and invincibility briefly overcame his weakness, allowing him to once again experience a glimpse of the Dark Lord's illusion of being in control of everything.
In the blink of an eye, the shadowy soul representing Voldemort's final, frantic counterattack had pounced on Lin Qi, just a few steps away!
The silent roar and chilling malice were almost overwhelming.
Lynch finally took half a step back, his heel gently crushing a small piece of the lens.
But his gaze remained sharp as an eagle's, and his expression remained terrifyingly calm, as if the attack before him was still under his control.
He spoke a spell clearly and calmly to Voldemort's soul.
A spell that made Dumbledore attack him without hesitation ten years ago.
A spell that he has been painstakingly analyzing day and night for ten years to uncover its deepest mechanism of action and its fundamental power.
A dark magic spell that Voldemort was most familiar with.
"Avada Kedavra".
Lynch used the spell that Voldemort was most proud of, most skilled at, and most symbolic of his power and terror on Voldemort's soul.