As the red light faded and the smoke cleared—
Pickle stared in shock.
Lewis stood there completely unharmed.
How… was that possible?
Someone taking a full-powered Reducto head-on and walking away without a scratch—
Even Lord Voldemort couldn't do that.
And this kid… how old was he?
Seeing the confusion on Pickle's face, Lewis let out a cold smile.
You know nothing about arcane magic.
In this world, aside from massive defensive wards like those protecting Hogwarts, there were almost no sustained defensive spells.
Most defenses—like Protego—required constant attention.
Wizards had to actively "raise their shields" whenever danger appeared.
Even masters like Albus Dumbledore or Voldemort were no exception.
But arcane magic was different.
There were spells like Frost Armor—
Long-lasting shields with fixed durability.
And others that reduced damage on every hit.
Once cast—
You could fight freely without worrying about defense for a while.
And Lewis, cautious as ever, always kept himself fully buffed before any outing.
Frost Armor.
Mage Armor.
These were practically permanent on him.
That Reducto earlier?
It had been reduced by Mage Armor—
Then completely absorbed by Frost Armor.
The price?
Frost Armor shattered.
Lewis remained untouched.
If Pickle had followed up immediately—even with something as simple as Expelliarmus—
Lewis might not have been able to defend.
But Pickle didn't get that chance.
Because while protected—
Lewis had already finished casting.
And Pickle—
Was still standing in the grease, his movement severely hindered.
"Scorching Ray!"
Another spell Pickle had never seen before burst into existence.
Not a projectile—
But a blazing orange-red beam of searing energy.
The moment it struck—
Pickle felt like he'd been dragged onto the surface of the sun.
"Protego!"
He forced himself to endure the heat and raised a shield.
And he almost succeeded.
The Shield Charm blocked the beam—
Saving him from a direct hit.
But he hadn't anticipated this:
Scorching Ray wasn't a single burst.
It was continuous damage.
Even if it only lasted a second—
That was enough.
Lewis had already predicted the block.
The moment he cast the spell—
He swept the beam downward.
And that was where Pickle's technique failed him.
Using precise deflection minimized energy cost—
But it also meant minimal coverage.
Against a single-point attack, that was fine.
But against a sweeping beam?
Fatal flaw.
From waist to thigh—
The unprotected areas were hit directly.
Burns.
Severe burns.
The flesh charred instantly, the smell of roasted meat filling the air.
And before Pickle could even scream—
It got worse.
The beam ignited the grease.
In an instant—
Flames erupted.
A sea of fire surrounded him.
Grease + fire—
The classic arcane combo.
And now, it shone brilliantly in the wizarding world.
Pickle howled in agony.
When he had slipped earlier, oil had already stained his body.
Now—
That oil became fuel.
Flames rose from the ground—
And from his own body.
He turned into a living torch.
Gone was his arrogance.
Now he howled like a wounded beast, scrambling wildly.
By the time he escaped the flames—
His body was covered in burns.
Charred black.
But Lewis didn't stop.
"Expelliarmus!"
A flash of red—
Pickle's wand flew into the air and landed in Lewis's hand.
The man himself was blasted back three meters.
With over ninety percent of his body burned—
And slammed to the ground—
Even a heavyweight fighter would be finished.
And without a wand—
There was no comeback.
Behind him, Tonks had just gotten back up—
And froze in disbelief.
"…Pickle, the leader of a major poacher group… defeated by a first-year student?"
She stared at Lewis, eyes wide.
"Incredible… your magic… it's unbelievable."
But this was where their inexperience showed.
One was a rookie Auror.
The other, a first-year student.
After such an intense battle—
They relaxed.
Neither checked the enemy properly.
Neither confirmed the kill.
Instead—
They started talking.
If Lewis had grown up in a warzone—
He would've put ten more hits into the body, just to be sure.
But he hadn't.
"See? I told you," Lewis grinned.
"You'll have to learn from me properly. Once you do, you'll dominate your Auror career."
"Yeah, yeah," Tonks teased.
"My little teacher."
Then suddenly—
Her expression changed.
"Behind you!!"
Lewis froze.
Weren't all the enemies already defeated?
What was there to watch out for?
Still, he turned—
Just in time to see—
A massive black wolf lunging at him.
Its fur was burned and patchy.
But its speed—
Unchanged.
Its jaws opened wide, fangs gleaming, saliva flying.
Lewis's Frost Armor was gone.
Only Mage Armor remained—
And he wasn't confident it could stop those teeth.
He dodged—
But too late.
The wolf missed its bite—
But slammed into his shoulder.
He was knocked to the ground.
His wand—
Flung away.
"…Damn it!"
Lewis's heart tightened.
Without his wand, his casting ability dropped sharply.
He was dragged into close combat.
That didn't mean he was helpless—
But it meant he'd have to take damage to win.
The wolf turned instantly—
And lunged again.
Lewis lay on the ground—
No mobility.
No wand.
Limited magic.
"Do I really have to punch a wolf in the mouth…?"
Absolutely not.
That was human instinct—
But also human weakness.
In that split second—
Lewis forced himself to act.
No wand.
No time.
Only one option.
"I can only use Knockback…"
Then—
A spark.
An idea.
He remembered something—
Hand seals.
A wandless casting method used in African and Eastern magical traditions.
"What if…"
"What if I replace wand and incantation with hand seals…"
"Strip the spell down to its simplest form…"
"And create something I can cast instantly—with just one gesture?"
The idea flashed through his mind—
At the exact moment death came rushing toward him.
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