"That's about enough, Morry." Fontana slapped the table and said angrily, "If you keep showing off, don't blame me for telling all your old embarrassments to your students one by one!"
Professor Morry fell silent for a moment, then said in a low voice, "Jealousy has distorted you, Agilbert!"
The people around them were all laughing.
The atmosphere at the judges' table was very relaxed, because the competition was nearing its end. The second-to-last contestant's work was completely unremarkable, and the last one had chosen to make a Poppet, which looked like it would end in mediocrity as well.
Just then, the final contestant slowly took the stage. The Poppet following behind her looked like a somewhat lumpy ball, rolling along the ground.
"A spherical Poppet? That's actually a clever choice." Silas Hawthorne said, propping his chin on his hand. "At least that way there's no trouble of it not being able to get back up after it falls over."
As soon as he finished speaking, a collective hiss of inhaled breath rose from the stands.
Because when it reached the front of the judges' table, that ball-shaped Poppet suddenly unfolded and stretched out, like a rapidly growing tree, shooting up until it was more than three meters tall.
It hunched its back slightly, its long, thin arms hanging down, ending in metal claws glinting with a cold light; its hind legs were much more robust than its forelimbs, bent in a way that made you feel they could easily stomp the ground to pieces and anchor the body like a ship's anchor.
Although the thing's exterior looked as if it were pieced together from the simplest plates, with no surface detailing at all, not even crude features "drawn" on it, the moment the audience saw it they immediately understood—this was a Werewolf Poppet!
And not the harmless sort of werewolf from daily life, but one that had fully completed its Transfiguration, a savage and brutal Assassin!
The venue, which had been filled with relaxed chatter and laughter, instantly fell into a dead silence of shock and terror.
Time seemed to freeze for a second.
Then…
"Aaaah——!"
A shrill scream ripped through the silence, and like a signal, it instantly detonated the panic in the stands!
The spectators in the front rows were scared out of their wits; chairs were shoved over in haste, people fled in blind panic, and someone, in their terror and confusion, almost tumbled off the floating platform!
At the same time, some of the Magic Congress staff turned and ran, some rushed toward the judges' table, and others, very dutifully, watched the stands, ready to catch anyone who might fall.
"Calm down! Calm down—!"
Fontana pointed his Magic Wand at his own throat, his voice booming so loudly that loose stones on the inner walls of the sinkhole began to crumble and fall.
"Calm down, this is only an Alchemy Product! Do not panic, return to your seats!"
He shouted at the top of his lungs, the powerful sound waves making people's heads buzz. The audience hesitated and began to slow down.
Just then, they heard a wail:
"Mum——"
A child of about seven or eight was dangling in midair, clinging to the edge of a higher floating platform, on the verge of falling.
The nearby adults hurriedly waved their Magic Wands and rescued the child.
Once the panicked spectators had more or less regained order, Fontana turned and looked at the Werewolf Poppet and its creator standing before it, his eyes full of vigilance and scrutiny.
The Aurors in charge of security were just as tense, drawing their Magic Wands one after another, maintaining order while keeping a wary eye on the Poppet in case it went berserk.
Everyone understood that it was only an Alchemy Creation under someone's control, and that its master, as a contestant, was unlikely to be so deranged as to start a massacre here…
Even so, faced with that steel giant exuding a terrifying presence, even seasoned adult Wizards couldn't help showing fear on their faces.
In the front-row box, Moody's lips twitched. Harry, who was closest, faintly caught his mutter:
"That fellow Vid, making something this awful… Has he thought about what kind of catastrophic situation this power might lead to in someone else's hands? That brat…"
The retired Old Auror clenched his back teeth, suppressing a sudden impulse rising from within him… an impulse… to take down that contestant who had created the Werewolf Poppet right on the spot.
Back then, weren't these Poppets just toys? Just toys of the same sort as Wizard's Chess pieces—when did they become something this dangerous?
He looked again at that contestant—
A man with red hair, wearing a traditional black Robe edged with a line of red. A calm, unhurried smile rested on his face. As he watched the scene of chaos, he not only showed no guilt, but even seemed to be savoring it, a trace of pride in his expression.
When the commotion had finally died down, the man clicked his tongue softly and gave the judges a slight bow.
"Honorable judges, good evening. I am Modis Graves, and my work is—a Poppet, the 'Hound'!"
His smile deepened a little. "As you can all see, its appearance is based on the werewolf, because I believe the strength of a werewolf after Transfiguration is tremendous. I do apologize for giving everyone such a poor first impression."
At the judges' table, Vid narrowed his eyes slightly; beneath his long lashes, there seemed to be golden symbols faintly flowing.
His gaze passed over the rough, terrifying exterior of the werewolf form, carefully examining the Magic Power flowing within the Poppet and the structure of the runes, observing the Spells used on it and the deeply nested Magic Array Pattern.
A moment later, an enigmatic expression appeared on Vid's face.
The red-haired man, Modis Graves, just like the previous contestants, gave a brief introduction of the materials and Spells he had used. Without wasting words, he went straight to the demonstration.
He swung his Magic Wand, and a series of Spells shot precisely at the Poppet "Hound".
A stream of icy white cold struck its torso, making it shudder slightly. A layer of frost instantly coated the Poppet's surface, yet its movements did not slow in the slightest.
After being frozen for quite some time, the "Hound" could still easily leap out; with a swipe of its claw, it sliced open the workbench of the contestant next to it.
Next, a liquid giving off a pungent smell was splashed over the Poppet, the corrosive fluid sizzling on its surface. The rock beneath its feet visibly showed signs of being eaten away, yet the Poppet merely shook its body, making no other response.
Immediately after, a huge bubble enveloped the Poppet, just like the Bubble Head Charm the Champions had used underwater before.
Only this time, the bubble's purpose was not to provide air for the "Hound" to breathe, but to suck all the gas from around it away.
A vacuum was even easier for a Poppet to handle; they had no need to breathe whatsoever. Thus, the Poppet continued to stand rigidly in place, those lifeless glass eyes staring blankly ahead.
After a while, Modis Graves dispelled the magic. With a soft "pop", the surrounding air rushed back against the "Hound's" face, making its body sway twice more.
Modis Graves gave the judges another slight bow. "That concludes my demonstration."
After a good long moment, Silas Hawthorne slowly began to applaud:
"Pa… pa, pa, pa…"
The applause spread in waves. The spectators, now that the fright had passed, felt even greater admiration as they thought back on it.
"Exceptionally good, absolutely splendid." Hawthorne said with a broad smile. "This is the most complete Poppet I've seen today! At the very least, it can handle three kinds of extreme environments. Not bad, not bad at all!"
He looked at the others. "I think today's Champion has already appeared."
Ms. Picquery nodded slightly, but then she said softly, "I do have a question. I wonder if contestant Graves can answer it for me?"
"Of course, madam." Graves replied politely. "Please, go ahead."
"Your Poppet is very powerful, but it feels utterly lifeless."
Ms. Picquery said, "It does not shrink from the cold, it does not complain when covered in acid, and it shows no discomfort in a vacuum… It is stiff, like a cold tool, with no vitality at all… Why is that?"
Graves seemed a little puzzled. He blinked, then gave a faintly bemused smile:
"But madam… Poppets are tools to begin with, aren't they?"