Forbidden Magic Domain.
Few wizards can handle an exceptional swordsman in such an area.
"Fortunately, I have a contingency plan for this situation."
Most wizards can't use magic and might panic against an incoming swordsman, but Ian isn't one of them. The young wizard swiftly reached into his money bag. Just as Albus Dumbledore could draw out a longsword, Ian could certainly make use of his bag filled with hidden cards.
Failing to ban all alchemical creations was undoubtedly young Albus Dumbledore's biggest mistake. Of course, this could also be because they were currently in the Room of Requirent.
Albus Dumbledore chose not to completely ban magic.
"My future professor! Tis have changed!"
He shouted.
Ian pulled out a self-made Gatling gun. While he couldn't infuse magic power into it, in manual mode, it still had the weapon's structure to unleash all its bullets within a minute.
The gun was entirely black, emitting a chilly tallic sheen, and its massive body starkly contrasted his slender fra, yet it didn't diminish its intimidating presence.
"!!!????"
Look.
The young Albus Dumbledore was intimidated. His fierce steps suddenly halted, and the longsword he was about to swing stopped stiffly in mid-air.
He was perhaps only a few dozen steps away from Ian.
However.
His proud house didn't seem to give him the courage to charge forward — after all, Albus Dumbledore, knowledgeable about Muggles, was a discerning individual.
"What... what are you doing."
The dashing young man showed a terrified expression for the first ti, his voice stamring.
"Three thousand six hundred rotations per minute, the great rcy saving lives, my future professor, I'm telling you, in front of this thing, without magic, we're all just ordinary mortals as you say..." Ian pressed the trigger, and the Gatling gun began to spin its barrels under the simulated sunlight of the Room of Requirent, reflecting dazzling light.
"Bloody hell!"
The young Albus Dumbledore's pupils shrank violently; it might have been his first ti cursing, sweat trickling down his forehead as he decisively threw the longsword in his hand.
The target wasn't Ian.
But the endless magic runes on the ground.
anwhile.
"Da-da-da-da~"
Blue flas had ignited.
The rotating barrels of the Gatling gun erupted with a deafening roar, like an angry beast roaring. Countless bullets poured out like a dense barrage.
They tore through the air, leaving trails of intense heat.
"By rlin's Beard!"
The young Albus Dumbledore dodged frantically on the ground, and luckily, after several rolls, his thrown longsword cut the magic runes he had set.
Magic power beca active again.
"Armor protection! Armor protection! Armor protection!" The young Albus Dumbledore frantically chanted spells, so fast that his lips were almost tripping over each other.
The "bullets" pouring out were finally blocked by invisible "shields," giving the young Albus Dumbledore a mont to catch his breath.
"Expelliarmus!"
He seized the opportunity to cast a spell on Ian.
Knocking the Gatling gun out of Ian's hands.
Seeing the "big killer" finally dealt with.
The young Albus Dumbledore finally let out a sigh of relief. However, the next mont, he felt dizzy, unable to stop himself from half-kneeling to the ground.
Not only was his body weak.
Even his brain was too heavy to function.
"What's in this..."
He struggled to look down at his own body, seeing at least a dozen syringes sticking out, clearly showing that his elaborate evasive rolls hadn't been very effective.
"It's my over-brewed life and death potion."
The young wizard blinked, answering truthfully. Of course, he wouldn't kill his future headmaster; the Gatling Gun he took out was specifically designed for the possible "Slytherin Rebellion."
As ntioned before, Ian had a strong sense of crisis. But dealing with his classmates alone, he wouldn't use a real killer weapon.
They didn't deserve that.
"..."
Hearing Ian's answer.
The young Albus Dumbledore felt incredibly aggrieved. He knew the brat in front of him was cunning but didn't expect him to be this cunning.
"I certainly couldn't teach you these things, impossible... absolutely impossible." The young Albus Dumbledore's voice was filled with incredulous stubbornness.
"You're not my apprentice! Damn it! Why is this life and death potion so potent!"
He slowly pulled out all the needles, shook his head a few tis, and then laboriously lifted his head, strenuously keeping his eyes open, staring intently at Ian.
"Yes, you didn't take
as an apprentice, but Professor Grindelwald always said I was his apprentice." Ian continued to speak the truth, but not the whole truth.
He couldn't betray his good uncle.
"Grindelwald... Grindelwald… this is really... damn cunning..." The young Albus Dumbledore kept repeating the na.
He seed determined to rember this na firmly.
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