https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-698-This-Is-the-One-the-Dark-Lord-Wants/13685921/
Chapter 697: The Game World
Wade turned his head, pupils snapping wide.
The girl who had just struggled back to her feet suddenly collapsed again, letting out a pained whimper as her body rapidly shrank. In an instant, she was buried beneath a pile of clothing—only a dusty, downy head of hair remained visible.
“What’s going on?” Harry whispered, stunned. “She’s been shrunk!”
His face was etched with disbelief, as if his entire understanding of reality had just been rewritten—yet he didn’t once consider himself.
At this moment, Harry still had no awareness that he might be anything out of the ordinary.
Then, a dark green leopard erupted from nowhere, its gaze fixed on the fallen girl. Its expression flickered with something like shock.
Wade stared at the creature, equally stunned—Did such a color even exist in nature?
And those markings on its fur—why did they look more and more like plants?
The cheetah bared its teeth, advancing slowly toward the girl with a dangerous glint in its eyes. Before it could reach her, a blinding beam of light lanced out, piercing straight through its abdomen.
The beast roared in agony—but no blood spilled. Instead, a perfectly charred hole opened on both sides of its body.
Terrified, the creature leapt back with unnatural speed, vanishing into the courtyard in a blur.
Moments later, footsteps echoed through the stone hall, accompanied by two voices.
“Dangerous,” one said. “Someone actually ran in here. Didn’t that kid eliminate all the champions?”
“You’re slow. There’s still one survivor.”
“Fine. I thought the leopard would’ve finished her. My mistake.”
“Good thing we’ve got this golden mist. No matter how many wizards come, they can’t threaten us.”
“But that leopard escaped. Be careful—it might come back.”
“And if it does? Even if it’s a magic puppet, it’s still just a beast. Are we afraid of a beast?”
They didn’t bother hiding their voices. From behind a weathered stone pillar, two figures stepped into view.
One was a man with a hunched posture, a jagged scar running from his brow down to his jawline. In his hand he held a strange-looking gun—oddly childish in appearance, resembling a water pistol. Its body was bright and colorful, with a tiny dolphin dangling from the top, radiating pure whimsy.
Yet it was this very gun that had fired the beam that tore through the cheetah’s body.
The other was a woman with tattoos sprawled across her arms and neck. Her face was plain, her hair short and dark, her skin sun-kissed. But her fierce expression gave her an aura of raw, untamed power—making her ordinary features strangely magnetic.
She wore an arsenal of weapons strapped across her body, like a walking, living weapons depot. In one hand, she carried a golden water kettle. She kept her distance from the golden mist, then tossed the kettle toward the ground with a casual flick.
It landed稳稳, and almost instantly, the lid began to jump, emitting a bubbling gurgle. The long spout pulsed in and out, as if the kettle were swallowing something.
The golden mist twisted into a slender tornado, spiraling inward—then vanished completely, sucked into the kettle. The clearing was now utterly clear.
Wade clung to the stone, eyes locked onto the kettle. Every inch of it was burned into his mind.
If this thing shrunk them… could it reverse the effect?
He glanced around. The two figures stood perfectly positioned, blocking any escape route. It wasn’t just coincidence—this was deliberate.
They knew Harry and Wade were hiding here.
But they weren’t rushing to expose them.
Like cats toying with mice, they were waiting.
Or perhaps… they were afraid of something. That’s why they played it cool—pretending not to care, not daring to act.
Wade’s thoughts raced—then he glanced at Harry.
The boy was utterly mesmerized by the golden kettle, mouth agape, eyes wide with wonder. Yet every few seconds, his gaze flicked toward the small, motionless girl beneath the clothes. His face was etched with worry.
She lay still among the scattered garments, a trickle of red blood seeping slowly across the cracked stone floor.
“Enough chatter,” the scarred man said. “Was the live broadcast cut?”
“Of course. But that trick—using a tiny mirror to stream live? Brilliant.” The tattooed woman picked up the kettle, admiration clear in her voice. “And the trophy—get it back soon. Don’t want anyone following the trail.”
“You don’t need to tell me. As soon as the rabbit arrived, someone inside already retrieved it. And by the way—Communication Pea works perfectly.”
—Live broadcast? Communication Pea?
Wade had thought he understood the world he was in. But now, he felt utterly lost.
The boy beside him bore the name Harry Potter. Maybe it was just a coincidence—another player in some game, sharing a name by chance?
In the world he knew, there was no such thing as live broadcasting.
This place—this world—was beginning to feel less like a real magical realm, and more like a constructed simulation.
And those two figures? No names hovered above their heads.
Were they NPCs? Or high-level players?
As Wade’s mind spun into increasingly far-fetched theories, a sudden boom shattered the silence.
“Boom!”
Wade held his breath, peering through the gap between the stone pillars.
A gaunt man strode through the courtyard, clutching a golden trophy. He wore a tattered black robe, his hair matted and wild against his pale forehead. Sunken eyes stared blankly, his jaw twitching uncontrollably. There was a feverish madness in his expression.
Wade frowned. He despised people like this—those clearly unhinged.
Unlike the others, this man had a string of text floating above his head—his character name. But it was too far to read.
Then, an idea struck him. He pressed his thumb, index, and middle finger together, forming a makeshift frame. He squinted, focusing on the name above the man’s head.
Wade’s breath caught.
“Barty… Crouch…?”
His heart lurched. He nearly gasped aloud.
The appearance. The demeanor. The madness.
There was only one person this could be.
“Oh, you’re back,” the two figures said, turning toward him. Their tone was neither friendly nor hostile—just flat.
“We heard you’d been captured, Crouch.” The scarred man lifted his eyes. “You all right?”
It sounded like concern—but the coldness in his voice made it feel more like: How come you’re still alive?
“Cut the talk,” Little Barty Crouch growled, his voice raspy and strained. His eyes swept the courtyard like a predator. “Where’s the other one? We need to start the ritual—before Dumbledore shows up at the door.”
“Don’t worry,” the tattooed woman said, turning to the spot where Wade and Harry hid. She smiled, showing sharp teeth. “Those two little rabbits won’t get far. We’ve tested them. No matter how strong they were before, now—mind and soul—they’re just kids. Five or six years old.”
She tilted her head, eyes glinting.
“Two kids… How could they possibly escape us?”
(End of Chapter)
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