"So it really was the rope, huh?"
Strolling down the town's main street, Evans felt the magic within him constantly dissolving and transforming back into its familiar form. He nodded thoughtfully.
If it was the rope's fault, then the difficulty for other wizards who could pass the first three seals to escape shouldn't be too great.
After all, that rope was only thumb-thick—undoing it didn't necessarily require magic, and it wasn't tied particularly tightly. With his enhanced strength, breaking free wasn't too difficult.
And as long as the rope was untied and the flas extinguished, a powerful wizard had countless ways to escape from a Muggle's encirclent.
Furthermore, since he was the only victim of this execution, he didn't need to worry about saving others, making the escape much easier.
But those Judgnt Knights...
Recalling the faint gray arcs he had just seen, Evans narrowed his eyes slightly.
He had never heard of such things existing among Muggles.
However, this did complete so of his conjectures.
The entire history of the wizarding world was tight-lipped about the witch hunts because the number of wizards who died in that movent could account for half of the entire wizarding world.
Yet in modern tis, almost no one knew how Muggles had persecuted wizards.
Even the manuscripts passed down by the Bellance family only vaguely ntioned a "special circumstance."
Although Muggle hatred for wizards was real, Muggles in the Middle Ages were simply too weak compared to wizards.
Even a wizard who had just learned the Stunning Spell was sothing Muggles couldn't handle.
Could they truly hunt down so many wizards relying solely on cold weapons and sheer numbers?
Evans had always wondered about this, and similar viewpoints had appeared more than once in the wizarding world.
But without exception, none of these viewpoints received any explanation, all sinking into oblivion, with only a few manuscripts similar to those of the Bellance family surviving.
Only now did he glimpse a few clues with his own eyes.
But this only deepened his confusion.
What were those gray arcs?
Or rather, where did those Knights with deep-set eyes co from?
Why were there so many Knights in this period—just over three hundred years from modern tis—yet no trace of them could be found in the present day?
Plus, that magical rope that could seal magic...
"I need to find a way to talk to so local wizards who can communicate," he muttered to himself.
"And first, I need to get myself a wand."
Although the magic within his body was gradually recovering, the magical strength of this body was less than half of his original, and without a wand, his skill level would drop significantly.
The talents of various magical creatures were indeed useful, but many things were still more convenient with magic.
Moreover, the offensive talents he knew created too much commotion and were not very suitable for small-scale combat.
But where could he get a wand now? In this world, finding a wizarding settlent was not an easy task.
Wizards were very good at hiding themselves because those who weren't good at it had long since died out—especially in such a special period.
Furthermore, he didn't know his current location. He could only roughly infer that he was still in England from the language and architecture, but he didn't know the specific location.
Even if he wanted to find Diagon Alley of this era, he needed to know the exact coordinates.
Or... find a fireplace?
Walking down the street, Evans casually observed his surroundings.
Perhaps because of the execution today, there weren't many people in the town—only a few scattered townsfolk hurrying by. They looked at Evans, who was leisurely strolling and occasionally approaching them, with surprised expressions.
Then they quickened their pace, quickly leaving the street, causing Evans, who wanted to strike up a conversation, to retract his hand.
"Are people in this era all so cold? Do they just run away when a young person tries to talk to them on the street?" he wondered aloud.
What an inhumane era!
After failing to strike up a conversation for the fifth ti, Evans began to reflect on why this was happening.
Then he instinctively looked down at his attire.
It was coarse sackcloth, very simple in texture, and if he sniffed carefully, he could still sll a kerosene stench—which should be exclusive to execution victims.
Hmm... he probably understood why his attempts at conversation were rejected.
The street was now empty of pedestrians. Looking at the deserted street, Evans gave up on trying to talk to people and began to ponder the lines of text he had seen when he first entered.
The earlier parts introducing Kevin's background were probably not very useful. If this unlucky child hadn't been possessed by him, he would have been unable to escape the fate of execution—just an ordinary passerby character.
Roughly equivalent to a newly created account for a ga protagonist, as pure as a blank sheet of paper.
He didn't even inherit mories.
But his experience was indeed a bit frustrating. If there was an opportunity, he could help him get revenge.
Among those paragraphs of text, the most important should be the last two sentences.
"Destroy the night's judgnt ritual." It seed like it was telling him to raid the execution ground, but even now, he didn't even know where the execution ground was.
"As for changing their fate... who does 'they' refer to? Wizards? Or Muggles? Or specific people?"
"Or is it a resistance organization from the witch hunts?"
"By the way, can't it give auto-pathfinding? It doesn't even give hints for quests—am I supposed to just guess?"
"Hey! You on the street!"
A clear voice interrupted Evans's thoughts.
He turned back in confusion, only to see a sowhat dilapidated house suddenly appear in an alley nearby. It hadn't been there originally, as if it had squeezed out of thin air, pushing the houses on either side aside.
At the entrance of the house, a young girl who looked not much older was looking at Evans with a tense expression. She glanced left and right a few tis, then continuously waved at Evans, signaling him to co in quickly.
Looking at the houses that were pushed aside, Evans felt a sense of déjà vu—like encountering a fellow countryman in a foreign land—washing over him.
A hidden wizard, found so easily?
Without hesitation, Evans walked directly toward the suddenly appearing dilapidated house.
"Thank you for taking in."
After Evans entered the room, the girl slamd the door shut with a bang. Still a bit uneasy, she peered out through the crack in the door before slowly letting out a sigh of relief.
Then she placed her hands on her hips in annoyance and glared at Evans.
"Are you crazy? How dare you swagger around on the street like this on Judgnt Day? And without any disguise?"
"Such dazzling magic—any Judgnt Knight could easily discover you!"
After speaking, she even patted her chest, looking utterly terrified.
It was just a pity that there was nothing on her chest, making the gesture appear so natural.
After calming down, the girl looked at Evans exasperatedly.
"Where are you from? Why are you wandering around on the street?"
This question left Evans a bit unsure how to answer. After thinking for a long ti, he decided to tell the truth.
"Um... from the execution pyre?"
The girl's expression stiffened—she seed not to have expected such an answer.
Only then did she notice that the man in front of her was wearing a prisoner's uniform.
And this discovery made her eyes widen instantly, and she murmured incredulously.
After all, there was only one execution today, and a dozen minutes ago, she seed to have heard considerable commotion from the execution ground, but she didn't know what had happened.
But... was this man really an escapee from the execution ground?
"How is that possible? How could anyone escape after being tied with that rope?"
"Even Mr. Kannor was burned to death by those Muggles..."
After muttering for a while, the girl seed to rember sothing and stopped her self-talk. She looked at Evans, and a glimr of hope appeared in her eyes.
"Since you could escape from the execution pyre, your strength must be very great, right?"
She put away her previous displeased attitude and solemnly extended her hand.
"My na is Della—Della Ollivander. It's a pleasure to et you!"
[Chapter Complete]
***
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