Apparating into a dark, unfamiliar primeval forest is never a wise decision.

Perhaps the Aurors of the Ministry of Magic wouldn't make such amateur mistakes as "fragmentation" or "spatial disorientation," but apparating beyond line of sight into the area with the densest wolf howls is still not much different from suicide—trees, rocks, mud... the forest is full of too many uncertain obstacles.

No one wants to become the laughingstock of all their European colleagues, especially with reporters in tow; such a threat is even more terrifying than death.

After all, social death in the wizarding world is much harsher than in the non-magical world, considering the wizarding population is already small.

Therefore, even though the direction of the wolf howls was exceptionally clear, Cornelius Fudge and his party still used multiple short-range apparitions to move through the Armenian forest—the furthest point they could see was their destination each time.

Hundreds of glowing wands painted a bright halo, like a swarm of fireflies flickering and darting forward.

If there was anything more wondrous, it might be that the leaping points of light gradually increased over time.

"Olezad, you despicable fellows—I knew the Azerbaijanis couldn't be trusted!"

"Trust? Take a good look at where we are; let's not cast stones at each other."

"There's no point in talking about that now..."

The head of the Auror Office of the Armenian Ministry of Magic frowned, his face gloomy as he looked into the dark forest ahead. "I just want to know which Ministry of Magic's friends are so impatient. If someone hadn't moved prematurely, we wouldn't be in such a passive position—"

"Who else could it be? The British—how could the Minister of Magic lead an expedition without scouts?"

"That's—it's slander! You're here too, Caster!"

Cornelius Fudge struggled to swallow the short, sharp Scottish phrase, glaring at the Minister of Magic of France, who had hurried over.

If it weren't for the *The Magical Truth* reporter with a camera beside this fellow, he would have retorted directly when the Frenchman started berating him for violating the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy by "smuggling" across the border—without a local "war correspondent" present, Cornelius Fudge had to be much more cautious in his response, and the British Ministry of Magic's numerical advantage was almost non-existent.

France, Turkey, Azerbaijan, Georgia, Armenia...

Including the British Ministry of Magic, they now had Aurors gathered from six different magical governments.

This obviously completely disrupted Cornelius's previous plan. In his script, the British Ministry of Magic should have taken the lead with a "blitz" advantage, arriving at the werewolves' settlement first and launching a surprise attack, instead of meandering through the Armenian forest at night with two or three hundred people like this.

More importantly, since the British Ministry of Magic didn't have a "reporter in tow," subsequent news reports would inevitably be at a disadvantage.

"Delacroix, how much longer until we reach the area with the densest wolf howls?"

Cornelius Fudge suppressed his annoyance and turned to the man with short, gray-white hair beside him.

In any case, the British Ministry of Magic had the largest number of people. Unless all the magical governments present joined forces to exclude them, even if other magical governments took the lead, they would still have an absolute advantage in "dividing the spoils" and "partitioning the battlefield."

As for... the British Ministry of Magic becoming the target of public criticism? That was almost impossible.

Cornelius Fudge might have been worried at first, but as more and more "coincidental" colleagues arrived, even Amelia Bones, known for her rigor and meticulousness, gradually relaxed—as the party that was "jumped the gun" on, the British Ministry of Magic and the surrounding magical government officials were naturally on the same side. Magical governments didn't even need to communicate; this was the most basic rule of political survival.

"Maybe another two or three apparitions—"

Delacroix looked up ahead, frowning as he estimated uncertainly.

"Two, maybe three apparitions, and we should reach the vicinity of the werewolf settlement. We'd better approach on foot afterward. After all, it seems like there's still fighting going on over there. The main thing is, we don't know which Ministry of Magic's gentlemen are there..."

"Belarus, Italy, Russia, India... who knows? Anyway, it's not our people."

Cornelius Fudge shrugged and casually rattled off a few names before turning back to look around.

As the highest-ranking magical official present, Cornelius knew very well how he should behave in this situation.

"Everyone, be vigilant, two apparitions! Then we'll proceed on foot together to the destination—hundreds of werewolves are lurking in the shadows ahead, and they may launch an attack at any moment." Cornelius Fudge glanced at the magical camera beside him and said righteously, "Werewolves are quite dangerous on a full moon. For safety reasons, I authorize Aurors to attack immediately upon spotting suspicious targets..."

Most mainstream news reports in the wizarding world still use text plus magical photos.

This meant that unless there was something more explosive happening on the scene, the reporter would likely prioritize photos from symbolically significant moments, such as a speech before action—Cornelius Fudge had learned a lot of important interviewing tips during the recent "Hogwarts Basilisk extermination," after all, he had spent a lot of effort communicating about "scene reshoots" at the time.

…………

A few minutes later, the group arrived at the end of the apparition range that Delacroix had mentioned.

Cornelius Fudge and the others drew their wands and finally began to take things seriously, probing forward little by little.

They heard sharp, piercing howls from the forest ahead, along with the roar of exploding spells. The surrounding mist was filled with a strange smell, a mixture of blood, iron filings, and charred wood. The residual waves of magic power could be faintly felt even from a distance.

The sky further away seemed to be burning, and through the gaps in the trees, they could see constantly flashing, dazzling red flames.

The ground and leaves trembled from time to time, with a continuous stream of light and shadow, howls, and impact sounds, as if a dozen giants were fighting on the other side of the forest.

"Quick, quick—"

Cornelius Fudge urged the Aurors anxiously.

The Aurors from other Ministries of Magic also quickened their pace, starting to run and walk.

However, even the most seasoned Aurors of the Ministry of Magic were not as fast as the reporters carrying magical cameras and notebooks. They began to sprint at full speed almost as soon as they landed. The editor-in-chief of *The Magical Age*, Locarna, rushed to the front, with the camera that should have been in the hands of the assistant photographer steadily floating in front of him. He nimbly stepped over vines and broken branches on the ground while manipulating the camera to capture shots.

"I'm the editor-in-chief of the Turkish *Magical Age*! Don't cast spells at me, we're here to help—"

Locarna said breathlessly, introducing himself loudly toward the intense battle ahead. He rushed out of the forest as quickly as possible.

Before he could see his surroundings clearly, a huge, furry, black figure "pounced" directly at the bald wizard. Fortunately, a red spell shot from behind, narrowly repelling the rushing werewolf.

"Stupefy! Are you crazy? Locarna, there are hundreds of werewolves here!"

Atif roughly grabbed Locarna's collar and roared angrily, spraying the poor editor with saliva.

Since his student days, this guy had never been easy to deal with. If his spell had been a few seconds slower, maybe there would have been one more name on tonight's "werewolf capture list"—werewolf infection is irreversible, a universally recognized cruel curse in the wizarding world.

"Str-strange—"

However, Locarna, grabbed by the collar, did not argue with him as usual.

The bald editor-in-chief looked past Atif, gazing at the "battlefield" behind him in confusion.

"The others—where are the others you mentioned, the people from other Ministries of Magic?" Locarna asked, panting.

"What are you talking about? Those guys are right—huh?!"

Atif frowned, answering as he turned his head to look in the direction of Locarna's gaze, his expression slightly stunned.

He thought Aurors from other Ministries of Magic had arrived before them, that they were fighting fiercely with the werewolves on this "battlefield."

However, looking around—

Besides the burning bonfire and a bunch of dark, gray, dusty beasts...

There wasn't a single wizard here?!

————

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Hooray!