The elegant, silver-haired woman with straight hair was Linda's great-aunt—Arwen Selwyn. And the brown-haired man confronting her was none other than Ogadis.
As an elf, Linda's keen senses quickly picked up on what had happened here. The air was still filled with the restless residue of magic from a recent battle.
Arwen's green eyes locked tightly onto Ogadis. After their brief clash, she had already realized just how dangerous he was. In her memory, no human wizard should possess such overwhelming magical power.
"So the direct descendant of Selwyn… has it really come down to this level?" Ogadis said casually. "You don't even seem as strong as that old British wizard from a few days ago."
"Who are you? How did you find the elves' hidden settlement?" Arwen asked coldly, her gaze filled with hostility.
Ogadis noticed her unfriendly expression and let out a faint laugh. "Haven't you always lived here? I was worried you might've moved."
Arwen's expression remained calm, but inwardly she was shaken. From his words, it was clear that he knew a great deal about the elves—especially when he mentioned "Selwyn's direct descendant."
"Who exactly are you?" Arwen's tone carried a trace of anger.
"The last pure-blood wizard on Earth," Ogadis said solemnly. "The elves… are nothing special after all. Well then, goodbye."
Without another word, Ogadis turned and flew away.
Arwen watched him leave, her expression grave. Memories buried deep within her mind began to resurface.
Legend had it that the ancestor of the elves was named Selwyn. Long ago, Selwyn and several human wizard companions had committed an unspeakable act. After that, they secluded themselves within the forests of Norway. The elves had remained there ever since, never relocating for thousands of years.
According to ancient tales, the ancestors of human wizards were those very companions of Selwyn. These secrets were long lost to the outside world, preserved only by isolated races like the elves.
"Great-aunt!" Linda called out.
Arwen turned toward her and gracefully descended from the sky. Adjusting her fur coat, she asked, "You went to the town again?"
Linda nodded sheepishly, then quickly asked, "Great-aunt, who was that man? His magical power was overwhelming."
Arwen fell silent. Even she couldn't fully determine Ogadis's origins. But from what he had said, he seemed closely tied to the ancient wizards.
Seeing no answer, Linda changed the subject. "Great-aunt, two wizards from Britain are looking for you. One of them, an old wizard named Dumbledore, says he's your friend."
"Dumbledore? Why would he be here? Where did you meet him?" Arwen asked in surprise.
"At the pizza shop in town. You know him? He seems to need help."
Linda's sensitivity to magic was among the best of her kind. When she approached Dumbledore earlier, she had immediately sensed that his magic was unstable—there was a clear disharmony within him.
"Let's go meet this old friend," Arwen said. Together, she and Linda flew toward the town.
Back at the pizza shop, Sean had waited from day until night and was already considering giving up. Dumbledore appeared calm, but even he was beginning to suspect Arwen might not come.
"Professor, it's so late. She probably doesn't want to see us," Sean said.
Suddenly, Dumbledore looked toward the window. The street outside was empty and dark.
Sensing something off, Sean activated his Magic vision.
There was nothing unusual on the street—but in the sky, two bright streaks of light descended like falling stars. They were magical signatures.
Linda and Arwen landed gracefully, like celestial beings descending from the heavens. Dumbledore stood up immediately. From his reaction, Sean knew—Arwen had arrived.
The bell above the door rang as the two entered. The shop owner was about to speak, but Arwen casually waved her hand. A sleeping spell struck him instantly, and he collapsed onto the counter.
"Long time no see, Dumbledore. You've aged quite a bit," Arwen said first.
Dumbledore smiled. "Arwen, you're still as young and beautiful as ever."
Sean studied her closely. Compared to Linda, Arwen looked far more like a true elf—especially because of her ears.
Her ears were long and pointed, the unmistakable trait of elves. Linda's ears, by contrast, looked almost human.
"She looks like she's only in her thirties, yet she knew Dumbledore thirty years ago… her real age must be far greater," Sean thought.
A woman's age was hard to guess. An elf's age was even harder.
"You don't look well," Arwen said, immediately seeing through Dumbledore's condition.
Though Dumbledore had remained composed throughout the journey, Sean knew how painful it must be to have foreign magic invading one's body—and Dumbledore had endured it silently.
"A few days ago, a mysterious young man challenged me to a duel. I lost. His magic is now invading my own," Dumbledore explained.
Arwen's eyes flickered. She immediately recalled Ogadis's words about fighting an old British wizard. That wizard must have been Dumbledore.
"Is that young man called Ogadis?" she asked.
Dumbledore's expression changed. "How do you know?"
"He found our hidden settlement earlier today. I had a brief clash with him. He's… a terrifying opponent."
Hearing this, Sean felt even more confused about Ogadis. "Is he some kind of peerless warrior obsessed with defeating the strongest?" he thought.
"I can treat your condition," Arwen said. "But it will take time."
Meanwhile, after entering Nicolas Flamel's castle, Haerpo quickly defeated the alchemical constructs. Looking at the broken remains, he sneered. "Is this all the skill of a great alchemist?"
On the top floor, Nicolas Flamel and his wife calmly awaited Haerpo's arrival, enjoying tea and pastries as if nothing were wrong. Under Nicolas's persuasion, Hoff had already escaped through a hidden passage.
The castle's defenses proved ineffective against Haerpo. It didn't take long for him to reach their room.
Inside, the two elderly figures sat peacefully, sipping tea.
"Nicolas Flamel, I'm interested in your Philosopher's Stone. Hand it over, and I may spare your life," Haerpo declared arrogantly.
"The Stone has already been destroyed. Didn't the French Ministry announce it?" Nicolas asked calmly, lifting his teacup.
"I believe they did. It was headline news that day," his wife added.
"Is that so? What a pity. Then you can give me the method to create it," Haerpo said.
"I'm afraid that's impossible. All records of the Philosopher's Stone have been destroyed. Even parts of my memory have been erased," Nicolas replied.
He had no intention of resisting. Though he had lived for over six hundred years, the Elixir of Life had only extended his lifespan—it granted nothing more.
Over those centuries, his magical power had not grown. He had used his wand less and less. His magical abilities had long since declined.
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