"Tom Riddle, Voldemort, the Dark Lord who conquered death, the sole heir of Salazar Slytherin—"

"We have generously granted you a second life, but before you celebrate your rebirth and freedom, you must play a little game with us."

"Soon, you will awaken in the manor of one of your followers and experience a hunt that you have been absent from for over a decade. You may choose to kill the hunters or... be killed."

"So, now, please look up ahead and try to find a comfortable position to greet your slumber—"

"Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!"

Blinding red spells shot from all directions.

After the intense impact came the endless darkness.

He felt like a pitiful fly caught in a blood-red web, unable to struggle, at the mercy of the dark hands lurking in the shadows.

Damn it—

What the hell is going on?!

Voldemort rolled clumsily on the ground, once again dodging the scorching fire whip that clung to him like a maggot.

In his memory, the existence of Horcruxes should have been an absolute secret.

Even the most loyal Death Eaters were only qualified to safeguard them, but he had never told anyone about Horcruxes, or the division of his soul.

However, judging from the current situation, something extremely terrible had quietly emerged in the past decade and evolved into a terrifying shadow looming in the dark.

His previously celebrated achievement of conquering death was now undergoing the most despicable and vicious trampling—those mysterious wizards were even using his resurrection as a pawn and a puppet, throwing him in front of Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic to serve as a consumable prop in a gladiatorial show. Even worse, he still didn't know what role he was playing, or why he had died and been resurrected.

Everything depended on whether he could successfully escape this ridiculous "game," or defeat Albus Dumbledore.

Voldemort waved his wand forcefully, roaring with a shrill voice.

"Die, Dumbledore! *Avada Kedavra*—"

As a qualified wizard, he could theoretically use any branch as a wand to cast spells.

However, compared to those items without any magical crafting, wands crafted with modern wand-making techniques were obviously much stronger in terms of stability and power.

Even though this black walnut wand in his hand restricted most of his magical power, it was still a real wand after all.

" *Crucio*! *Incendio*! *Avada*—*Kedavra*!!"

With the aid of spells and casting gestures, Voldemort could still accurately and completely unleash his magic, and this was his last hope.

Voldemort seemed to have returned to his days at Hogwarts, meticulously repeating the methods he had long abandoned, struggling to deal with the professors.

The only difference was that, in this special "impromptu duel," the price of failure was not just embarrassment or losing points. He would face death, and even something more terrifying than death.

"Dumbledore, you foolish old fool, you have no idea what you're doing!"

Voldemort raised his wand high above his head, and the surrounding windows shattered as if destroyed by an explosion, turning into countless tiny shards of glass.

Then, all the shattered glass fragments stirred and floated in a vortex of magic, trembling forward like sharp daggers.

"You want me to surrender? The Aurors are on their way? Then try it—Albus Dumbledore, I don't believe you aren't even a little afraid of a mutually destructive outcome!"

Voldemort's pale, hideous snake face contracted rapidly, his crimson eyes radiating a terrifying light, his hands holding the wand as if grasping daggers, pointing towards Dumbledore.

*Clatter, buzz—*

Accompanied by the sound of countless tiny glass shards colliding, those window glass fragments trembled violently.

The next moment, dazzling, sharp glass shards roared towards the two old wizards at the door like a school of fish chasing ocean currents.

In Voldemort's past memories, Dumbledore might occasionally have moments of madness or eccentricity, but the teacher he feared the most had never lied.

This was not surprising. With Albus Dumbledore's status, there was no one in this world worth lying to—not even him, Dumbledore would not deign to deceive with lies.

Therefore, last night, someone "impersonating Voldemort" had definitely invaded the Ministry of Magic. If he guessed correctly, those guys disguised as him and Death Eaters, those "mysterious" informants who notified Dumbledore and others to come here to intercept him, and even the bastard game designer who forcibly resurrected him and dragged him into this "gladiatorial arena" were most likely different masks of the same group of people.

This was an incredibly clumsy trap, designed to take his life, or Dumbledore's...

And the most crucial thing was that he still didn't know what was happening "outside."

"When you actually catch me, you'll realize you've been played—"

Voldemort said viciously, taking advantage of the gap while Dumbledore dealt with the glass tide, and fired a Killing Curse at Dumbledore again.

However, as before, he failed to penetrate the flying carpets. The old wizard standing behind Dumbledore blocked all the spells like a loyal servant.

At the same time, Dumbledore seemed to have finally lost his patience. He waved his wand from top to bottom and whispered an incantation.

Although it was unknown what spell it was, its power clearly far exceeded the previously imposing golden-red fire whip. A suppressed sound like a blunt object cutting through the air appeared, and Voldemort's pupils suddenly contracted. The words in his mouth directly turned into his most familiar defensive spell—"Silver Shield Guardian!"—Voldemort shrieked.

In the air in front of him, a shining silver shield appeared out of nowhere, engraved with exquisite reliefs of entwined snakes.

Dumbledore's spell had no brilliance, and it didn't seem to have caused any damage to the silver shield.

However, the next second, the silver shield suddenly emitted a low, gong-like vibration. In that strange, eerie tremor, the silver shield began to flicker.

"You don't want my life, do you, Dumbledore?" Voldemort said loudly, squinting his blood-red eyes at the silver shield. "You've never deigned to do anything so cruel, have you? Hmm?"

"We all know there are many ways to destroy a person, Tom."

Dumbledore said calmly, stepping forward slowly towards Voldemort, as if he were merely giving a routine lecture in class.

"I admit, merely taking your life would not satisfy me... I have made many mistakes, and I always thought time would allow me to find a better way.

"Unfortunately, reality tells me that time is not on my side. Before you cause an even greater, more terrible disaster, I must stop you. If death is the way, then I don't mind using it. But in my opinion, if we are to end all this, perhaps we need to seriously discuss things worse than death—"

"Nothing is worse than death, Dumbledore!"

Voldemort said viciously, his blood-red eyes fixed on Dumbledore.

He stopped casting spells. After the previous rounds of engagement, he was well aware that he was no match for Dumbledore.

Perhaps with the aid of a powerful, handy wand, he would still have a chance to fight back, but in this duel with his hands tied, he had no chance of winning.

"Oh, you're wrong about that."

Dumbledore said, stopping about three meters away from Voldemort, speaking in a relaxed and casual tone, as if they were chatting.

"Yes, all along, your greatest weakness has been your inability to understand that some things are worse than death—"

"You're the one who doesn't understand anything! Dumbledore, you've been deceived!"

Voldemort began to retreat slowly towards the wall, his wand waving again, sending out streaks of green light.

The two cut-up dining tables twisted and deformed, appearing in front of Dumbledore like burning oak guards, easily blocking the weak Killing Curses.

Dumbledore casually retracted his wand, and walked forward under the protection of the two oak guards.

"Since I returned to Hogwarts Castle, for more than half a century, you were involved in a few of the times I've been deceived, Tom..."

The old man radiated a powerful energy that was difficult to look at directly, his azure eyes peering through the half-moon spectacles on his twisted nose, staring at the man in front of him with a complex expression.

"Secretly murdering innocent civilians, disrupting the politics of the non-magical world, plotting to subvert the magical society's economy, bewitching half of Europe's werewolves, raiding more than a dozen Ministry of Magic offices overnight..."

"In the ten years you feigned death and lay dormant, how many more insane things have you done?! But no matter what plans you have in the future, I will stake my life today to completely extinguish your ambition here! Tom, you've really gone too far this time! Perhaps you can be resurrected countless times, but as long as I'm alive, I will never let you succeed!"

"...Uh. Hmm? Uh—"

A hint of confusion flashed in Voldemort's fierce and sinister eyes, and those confrontational words suddenly got stuck in his throat.

What is this old fellow talking about?

Apart from the murder being somewhat relevant, do the other things sound a bit too outrageous?

"Wait, wait, Dumbledore, what you just said, I—"

*Boom!*

A crimson beam of light grazed Voldemort's cheek and hit the wall behind him, blasting out a huge hole.

At the same time, an aged, somber voice, seemingly containing countless anger and hatred, rang out not far away.

"Mr. Dumbledore, if you can't bring yourself to do it, then let me—"

Voldemort raised his head and saw the old wizard who had entered the room with Dumbledore staring at him intently.

Although this old wizard seemed to be slightly inferior to Dumbledore in strength, if he also joined the battle, then it might be difficult for him to hold on. As for the old man's angry and desperate gaze, Voldemort didn't find it unfamiliar at all.

Decades ago, when he ravaged the British magical world, he had tasted too much of this delightful powerless anger.

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Yay!