[Marvel's Hogwarts Professor] Chapter 676 - 680

Chapter 676: Battle for the Divine Soul

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Following Lockhart, Mephisto, and Dormammu, their souls leapt forth as streams of light, entering the brow of the god's soul.

After watching for a few seconds, Thor recalled Lockhart's earlier explanation. He grabbed Lockhart body and flew toward Ian, Wanda, and the others.

The battle between Ian, Wanda, and the others had not ceased. Those who had survived thus far possessed strong life-preserving abilities. Despite the fierce fighting, almost no sorcerer had perished.

When Strange and Grindelwald witnessed what Lockhart had just done, and saw Thor approaching with Lockhart's physical body, they immediately knew the final moment had arrived.

"Watch out for Thor!" Strange shouted. "All sorcerers, gather and form an array!"

With his position as leader David's confidant, Strange commanded a certain respect among the fallen wizards. Of course, Thor's imposing presence was an even more compelling motivator.

After hearing Strange's call, the fallen sorcerers quickly gathered at his location. As Strange waved his sling ring, information about a magic circle appeared in the minds of the fallen sorcerers.

Nullshift!

The spell required sacrificing part of one's body, soul, and spiritual power to transform oneself, jump beyond the world, escape through the cracks in the void, and flee from this realm.

At first glance, there seemed nothing wrong with the spell. The only concern was that activating this magic circle required sacrifice—not just pure magic or spiritual power, but true spirit as well.

Many fallen sorcerers hesitated. The price seemed too high, and an unsettling feeling crept into their hearts.

"We're barely holding our own against the Kamar-Taj wizards, not to mention Thor, the God of Thunder," Strange said urgently. "We can't hold on much longer. Those willing to leave the battlefield, come to me and join the array. If you don't want to, please stand aside."

An obvious impatience crossed Strange's face. Without waiting for any response from the other fallen sorcerers, he took the initiative, waving his sling ring and beginning to arrange the magic circle with himself at its core.

Beside him, Grindelwald and the faction of newer fallen sorcerers didn't hesitate. They simultaneously waved their sling rings, extended their magical energy, and joined the circle. Almost instantly, a mysterious wave emanated, carrying the essence of space, nothingness, and more.

Seeing Thor, the God of Thunder, approaching, the remaining fallen sorcerers had no time for further deliberation. Some immediately waved their sling rings and joined in.

Yet some still hesitated.

"Moro, hurry up! The price may be steep, but survival comes first!"

"Sasha, come quickly! Let's leave this troublesome place first and discuss other matters later. Against a god, we stand no chance!"

Those with closer relationships began persuading others. Under this pressure, more sorcerers joined the formation.

Only a handful—fewer than five—remained standing with uncertainty etched on their faces. They were all confident in their abilities, ranking among the most powerful. Their desires—whether to become gods themselves or to serve one—burned the brightest.

Strange's call to escape felt like a betrayal of their goals. Before them stood gods whom Lockhart, Mephisto, and Dormammu had tried every means to capture. So many had already been sacrificed. To flee at the first sign of danger seemed too cowardly.

The path to godhood was never meant to be easy—it was fraught with danger. If they feared danger, they might as well have remained at Kamar-Taj. Why betray their cause now?

The gods before them contained true divine essence. Acquiring even a fragment would more than double their chances of achieving godhood. David had been seduced by this very promise, wagering his body, soul, and spirit on this battle. Though his choice seemed foolish now that he was nearly dead, they couldn't help but admire his commitment.

David's actions, along with those of Mephisto and Dormammu, had inspired them. They didn't want to leave. Abandoning the fight would destroy half their progress toward godhood.

Seeing that these five fallen sorcerers remained motionless, Strange glanced at Grindelwald, who nodded slightly. Strange began exerting his power from his central position in the magic circle, linking and controlling every aspect of the current formation.

The sorcerers who had joined offered little resistance. They needed Strange to lead them away from this losing battle.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Almost instantly, a faint silver-gray mist rose around them. The mist contained elements of mystery, nothingness, corruption, space, and secrets.

The five holdouts still showed conflicted expressions, clearly struggling with abandoning their opportunity. However, their faces quickly settled into resolve. Having made their choice, they would fight to the end.

Looking at one another, they recognized the ruthless determination in each other's eyes. Without hesitation, the five figures moved and formed their own magic circle in mere seconds. Their souls leapt out as their bodies began to melt and burn, sacrificed to their cause. Each soul emitted a faint silver light as they flew high into the sky, sharing the same goal as Lockhart, Mephisto, and the others.

Their destination: the center of the god's brow, the depths of the divine soul, the birthplace of true spirit.

Together, they would gamble everything in this battle.

However...

As they flew toward the god's eyebrows, they looked down at Strange's original position. Suddenly, their eyes widened in shock. The silver-gray mist that was supposed to transport the others had vanished.

All the sorcerers present—except for Strange and Grindelwald—had disappeared.

"Don't worry, everyone. Cooperate well and we'll leave soon," Strange called out sharply as the magic circle began to activate. "Don't resist. If you feel uncomfortable, speak up. Don't let small mistakes create bigger ones that might delay our escape."

Everyone present felt a mysterious suction force. It seemed their souls were connecting, beginning to pull and consume one another. The sensation was deeply unsettling.

"This is part of the sacrifice," Strange quickly explained. "Once we have enough energy, I'll stop immediately. Cooperate—everyone should avoid resistance. What we need now is unity."

Hearing this, the sorcerers looked uncomfortable but didn't resist. After all, they had been warned about the necessary sacrifices. Escape was the priority, worth paying some price.

However...

"Strange, what's happening?"

"Why aren't you stopping?!"

"Tell me, Strange, what are you really doing?"

"AHHHH!"

"Let me go! Don't devour my soul, my true spirit!"

"Strange, please, I beg you!"

"I surrender, Strange, just let me go!"

Those who had chosen to flee perhaps lacked the strongest resolve—after all, would someone with unyielding determination choose to run?

Within the silver-gray mist, they realized the sacrificial circle wasn't stopping. It continued extracting their magical power, souls, and even true spirits. They tried to escape, but the circle bound them tightly.

They cursed Strange furiously. They called him shameless, faithless, cunning, devious...

Yet no matter how harsh their curses, Strange offered no reply. They could only feel the sacrificial circle accelerating, forcibly consuming the magic, souls, and true spirits within their bodies. They felt themselves weakening, powerless to stop it.

Their curses turned to prayers, then to pledges of loyalty. Still, there was only silence. Strange didn't respond, as if he had vanished.

But how could that be possible?

They realized that this "escape" spell had trapped them, continuously devouring everything they possessed. Their struggles and resistance proved futile. Finally, despair consumed them.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Time seemed to both crawl and race. As a gentle breeze blew, the silver-gray mist slowly dissipated.

Dozens of clan sorcerers had vanished. Only two figures remained, with a gray-black orb of true spiritual light hovering before them.

"Mr. Grindelwald!" Ian and Wanda exclaimed.

They had a general understanding of what Strange had done, but they never expected Grindelwald's involvement.

"Yes, it's me," Grindelwald smiled. "This Strange needs no introduction. He volunteered to become our undercover agent among the fallen sorcerers, delivering a wealth of valuable information. A truly remarkable contribution!"

With a few words, Grindelwald established a heroic image for Strange. Strange noticed the admiring looks from the Kamar-Taj masters, filling him with satisfaction.

He smiled reservedly at everyone, nodding, prepared to offer a few humble words. Before he could speak, however, Grindelwald interrupted.

"We'll discuss this later. Now, Lockhart has given us an important task."

Saying this, Grindelwald focused on the gray orb of true spiritual light before him. He hadn't forgotten Lockhart's request.

Taking the True Spirit Orb, he flew high into the sky.

The nameless fallen sorcerers, now transformed into soul form, witnessed this scene. Especially when they saw Strange and Grindelwald conversing amicably with the Kamar-Taj wizards, rage surged within them.

Betrayal! This was naked betrayal!

These sorcerers cared nothing for whether Strange was an undercover agent. They only knew that because of him, almost their entire army had been annihilated.

How could they not hate him? They longed to tear Strange's flesh and break every bone in his body to vent their hatred.

But they still recognized what was most important. As long as they won the battle for the god's true spirit, they would have power to overturn everything. If they failed, death awaited them regardless.

Without hesitation, they cast aside their distracting thoughts. Through their magic circle, the five souls merged into one and poured into the god's forehead, joining Mephisto, Lockhart, and the others in the arena.

They paid no attention to Grindelwald as he flew upward. Fighting him seemed pointless now, especially since their soul state limited their combat abilities.

From below, Grindelwald watched the fallen sorcerers' souls flying into the god's brow. With a sigh, he positioned himself before the divine eyebrows. He waved his wand, sending the gray true spirit—constructed through sacrifice and heavy with corruption—into the god's forehead.

Grindelwald himself descended slowly. He had no interest in participating in the battle deep within the soul.

Mephisto and the fallen sorcerers had restricted themselves to qualify for entry. Even Lockhart had maintained his body, asking Thor to protect it before entering. Did Grindelwald believe he alone could make a difference in the battlefield deep within the god's soul?

His eyes of destiny warned him: Danger! Danger! Still dangerous!

Entering the battlefield with only his soul would leave him vulnerable. Therefore, following Lockhart's request, he delivered the gray true spirit into the depths of the god's soul and withdrew.

He would quietly await the outcome of the battle within.

Deep within the god's soul, countless glowing threads of true spirit in different colors intertwined. Some tangled together, some collided, some even wore against each other.

Yet looking carefully, one could find a strange beauty in these intertwined, entangled, and colliding threads of true soul. From a distance, they formed a massive true spirit imprint.

The colors of this True Spirit Brand were extraordinarily complex—vibrant, varied, and ever-changing. They dazzled the eye and seemed to exert a corrupting influence on the observer, shifting constantly.

Though the colors changed, the structure of the True Spirit Brand remained generally intact. The outer regions were stable; only toward the core did it continue changing slowly.

Nevertheless, one could see that the core position of the True Spirit Brand had become fixed, no longer changing. The god's true spirit and self were awakening, becoming divine in the truest sense. The structure of the true spirit was gradually being perfected, mostly complete.

At this moment, suddenly...

Three streams of light appeared at the edge of the true spirit mark. One burned with red flame, while the other two glowed gray and black.

Lockhart, Mephisto, and Dormammu had arrived.

"Lockhart, you can't escape this time," Dormammu stared at Lockhart's soul, noticing something that filled his eyes with greed.

Chapter 677: Negotiation in the Divine Soul

Deep within the god's soul, the void pulsed with energy. Endless threads of true souls constantly intertwined, accompanied by streams of light in various colors, creating a dazzling spectacle.

Three distinct colors of light—one red, one gray, and one black—intersected and collided at speeds imperceptible to the naked eye.

"Lockhart, you are alone now. You will never escape," echoed a voice through the void.

"The true spirit of the gods is not something you can spy on."

"Surrender, and I'll spare your life!"

"By the way, the Supreme Sorcerer can't help you this time."

With each collision of the light streams, Dormammu and Mephisto's taunts and demands for surrender continued. Yet Lockhart seemed not to hear them at all, unperturbed by the two-against-one disadvantage.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

The red stream of light—Lockhart—darted through the void, seemingly evading pursuit, while the gray and black streams—Mephisto and Dormammu—followed closely behind. Despite appearing to be at a disadvantage, Lockhart remained remarkably calm, betraying no negative emotions.

"Lockhart, give up!" Dormammu called out.

"Spare your life and become my disciple. From now on, you will be inferior to one person and superior to ten thousand people."

"Lockhart, you only have one chance..."

Seeing that Lockhart remained uncooperative, Dormammu exchanged glances with Mephisto. However, there was still no reply from the fleeing red light.

This silent treatment made the two evil gods look irritated. But what could they do? They could only accelerate their pursuit.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

As the two evil gods seemed to catch up with Lockhart, he suddenly surprised them. Instead of continuing to flee, he spun around and charged directly toward them, initiating a head-on collision.

He showed no concern for the damage to his soul, committing fully to the direct confrontation.

Seeing Lockhart employ this tactic again, Mephisto and Dormammu had no choice but to dodge. Lockhart had only targeted one of them for the collision—leaving the evil gods to wonder which of them would be the unlucky recipient of his attack.

Even a single such collision, while not healing Lockhart, would inflict considerable damage upon whichever evil god failed to evade. This meant the luckier evil god would emerge with an advantage. While beneficial for that party, it created a problematic dynamic.

After all, Dormammu and Mephisto were not friends. If one weakened, the other would surely show no mercy.

There was only one treasure at stake, and even if there were two, each would still take everything given the opportunity.

Both souls—the black and the gray—suddenly halted their pursuit, watching as Lockhart darted away. They did not give chase again.

"Let's talk," Dormammu proposed. "The true spirit is about to coalesce, and we're wasting precious time on Lockhart."

Based on their recent experience, if they didn't coordinate properly, Lockhart would continue exploiting their divided attention.

Mephisto naturally understood this and nodded. "Of course. Our top priority must be dealing with Lockhart. If he persists, he'll remain a threat."

Dormammu nodded in agreement, then asked, "Mephisto, how do you propose we divide the god? The origin, true spirit, soul, body, and this divine realm—which do you want?"

Mephisto didn't hesitate to make his demands: "The inherited memories can be copied by each of us."

"The true spirit is mine, and the soul is yours."

"The body is mine, and the divine realm is yours."

"We split the origin in half."

Mephisto's proposal was self-serving. With the true spirit and body in his possession, combined with Dormammu's expertise with souls, he could forge a puppet with life-level combat power. Not to mention his share of the origin and inherited memories—he stood to gain considerably.

Obviously, Mephisto's request did not align with Dormammu's interests.

"Mephisto," Dormammu countered with dissatisfaction, "if you want the true spirit, then the body, soul, and origin must come to me."

"Of course, the divine realm would be yours."

"I believe it would add much color to your desolate hell dimension."

Mephisto frowned at this proposal. The divine realm might represent a dream opportunity for ordinary sorcerers—the foundation for their ascension to godhood. But for these two evil gods, each already possessing their own dimensional domains, the divine realm held less significance.

Moreover, the attributes of the divine realm directly opposed those of their respective dimensions. One teemed with life; the others thrived on chaos and bloodshed. Forcibly merging them would cause severe damage.

This divine realm, priceless to outsiders, seemed almost worthless to them. Yet it would be a shame to abandon it entirely.

"Dormammu, the divine realm suits you better. You can cultivate your followers there," Mephisto suggested with a smile.

The hell demons under his command had stubborn streaks in them. Even his son showed obvious rebelliousness—Mephisto only kept him in check through superior strength.

"I'll relinquish my claim to the god's origin and give it all to you. I don't want any of the inherited memories either."

"Just give me the true spirit, soul, and body. I ask for nothing else. And as compensation, I'll provide you with an additional hundred drops of dimensional origin power."

Mephisto believed he had made sufficient concessions.

Dormammu's mind raced as he considered the offer. He understood Mephisto's desire for a divine puppet with immense combat potential.

However, the complete divine origin, coupled with dimensional origin power, would be enough to restore Dormammu to his prime. And the divine realm, if utilized properly, could nurture a quasi-god-level fighting force.

Dormammu differed from Mephisto in fundamental ways. Mephisto's hell dimension overflowed with chaotic, murderous, and evil demons. Among such entities, concepts like loyalty or compatibility didn't exist—the strong simply took everything.

Dormammu, however, followed the path of an orthodox god with devoted believers beneath him.

"Very well," Dormammu agreed after brief contemplation. Dealing with Lockhart remained the immediate priority.

Then, a cruel smile spread across his face as he added viciously, "However, I have one request."

"I want Lockhart alive!"

"He has disrupted my plans repeatedly. I want him to exist in a state where he can neither live properly nor die."

Hearing this, Mephisto's smile faded. He glanced around cautiously and said, "We'll discuss this later. Someone might be listening."

"Let's capture him first, then negotiate the details."

Dormammu frowned at Mephisto's evasiveness. He had only become so talkative because of Lockhart.

Regardless of other considerations—even if he gained nothing else from the god—he wanted Lockhart.

"I want... Lockhart!" Dormammu insisted, his voice resonating through the divine soul.

Chapter 678: The System's Secret

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

A stream of red flame-colored light flashed rapidly through the void, weaving between threads of true spirit and circling around the true spirit brand. Lockhart darted back and forth through this realm where the gods' true spirits gathered.

He was carefully observing the condensation of the god's true spirit and its degree of... pollution!

Though Dormammu and Mephisto had temporarily halted their pursuit, Lockhart knew their next attack would be at least twice as difficult to handle. How could a unified front from two evil gods be easy to counter?

Therefore, he seized this precious time to quickly assess the true spirit's condition.

As Lockhart moved swiftly through the divine soul, an idea suddenly crystallized in his mind. He reached deep within himself and initiated communication.

"System, what are your thoughts on the true spirit of the gods?"

Since their last deal, Lockhart had come to view the system as an entity with its own agency, attempting to communicate more frequently to extract additional information.

The system, however, remained characteristically silent, as if it didn't exist at all.

Despite Lockhart's considerable abilities—which allowed him to repeatedly examine his own soul and true spirit—he couldn't detect any trace of the system. Were it not for the blue light screen that appeared whenever he summoned the system interface, he might have believed the entire thing was merely an illusion.

After posing his question, Lockhart expected more silence. But after half a minute of quiet...

"The contamination level of the god's true spirit has reached 40%. Its value is low."

"However, recycling is permitted."

"Reward for true spiritual transformation..."

Lockhart paid little attention to the mission rewards. What surprised him was that the system had actually responded to his inquiry.

What did this mean? The god's true spirit still held value to the system. Last time, it had been Mephisto's soul that triggered a system response.

"System, what's the key to acquiring the condensed true spirit of the gods?" Lockhart asked tentatively.

After another half-minute of silence, the system replied: "Host, please determine this yourself."

"Tip: When pollution levels reach 70%, the god's true spirit will no longer be worth recycling."

The pollution currently stood at 40%—still 30% away from the critical threshold.

The system's response left Lockhart deep in thought. If the system rejected true spirits with 70% contamination, did that mean the god's true spirit would be rendered completely useless at that level?

While pondering this, suddenly...

Lockhart's eyes narrowed as he detected streams of gray and black light approaching from the distance.

Mephisto and Dormammu had returned.

Upon seeing the two evil gods, Lockhart didn't flee. Curiously, Dormammu and Mephisto also slowed their approach.

What confused Lockhart, however, was the apparent tension between them. He had expected them to form a united front, but sensed an undercurrent of discord.

"Lockhart," Dormammu called out, "we're offering you a chance. Choose one of us and your life will be spared."

"What's more, we'll grant you the divine realm and origin when you ascend to godhood."

Dormammu emphasized specifically: "You can become my subordinate deity—inferior to one person, but superior to ten thousand."

His seductive tone made it clear that if Lockhart chose him, all these promises would be fulfilled.

Mephisto countered: "Lockhart, everything Dormammu says is true."

"You could even forgo serving under a god and become a new, independent deity."

"It all depends on your choice!"

After hearing their propositions, Lockhart was genuinely surprised. However, he maintained a calm exterior and asked evenly: "So, what exactly do you want from me?"

Did they want him to surrender the god's true spirit? Betray Kamar-Taj? Allow them to invade Earth or attack the Supreme Sorcerer? His mind raced with possibilities, unsure of their true intentions.

"It's simple," Dormammu stated coolly. "We want one thing from you."

"The treasure hidden deep within your soul!"

Now Lockhart understood. When Dormammu had attempted to negotiate with Mephisto earlier, treating Lockhart as merely an add-on to their deal, Mephisto had refused.

Mephisto had maintained his hard stance, even threatening to dissolve their partnership.

The moment Mephisto declined, Dormammu realized the truth: Mephisto must know just how special Lockhart was.

He wouldn't let go—even if it meant sacrificing the god's true spirit.

In that case... they could only cooperate to obtain what they both desired.

"Lockhart, what are your thoughts?" Dormammu pressed.

Dormammu's request left Lockhart genuinely stunned. Somehow, Dormammu and Mephisto had discovered traces of the system, while Lockhart himself—despite every effort—couldn't find any clues about its nature.

It was rather pathetic. Others had detected it, yet he remained ignorant about something residing within his own soul.

In this moment, Lockhart felt neither fear nor anxiety. Instead, a peculiar calm washed over him, accompanied by an urge to laugh at the irony, tinged with self-deprecation.

"What treasure?" Lockhart asked with convincing confusion. "At least give me a hint."

His eyes shone with apparent anticipation.

Dormammu scoffed: "Lockhart, no one will save you this time."

"When you swallowed my soul, Mephisto didn't escape your methods either."

"Don't pretend ignorance."

His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Mephisto remained silent, but his gaze never left Lockhart, tracking his every movement. Without the Supreme Sorcerer's interference, this represented a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Whether it was the god's true spirit or Lockhart's mysterious treasure—he wanted it all.

"Is that all you know?" Lockhart's voice carried a hint of disappointment.

He had momentarily believed that Dormammu and Mephisto had discovered something significant about the system. But their knowledge seemed limited to having detected something when their souls had been consumed.

What use was that?

Lockhart's reaction perplexed Mephisto, who was surprised by his continued nonchalance.

Then Lockhart sighed audibly. "Since you have no real insights, perhaps you can help me instead."

"Indeed—I want to meet it too!"

As his words faded into the void...

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Suddenly, a gray orb of true spiritual light exploded in the distance.

In an instant, tsunami-like vibrations rippled through the space, with gray waves flooding the true spirit realm.

The newly condensed True Spirit Brand suffered another violent impact!

Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!

Countless true spirit threads of various colors trembled, many snapping completely.

The True Spirit Brand, which had just achieved its complete form, began to distort.

Yet to Mephisto and Dormammu's eyes, though the true spirit mark appeared heavily impacted, the numerous gray true spirit ripples simultaneously worked to compensate and support it.

While it seemed severely damaged, the reality was less dire—the cohesion process had even accelerated.

The price? Further pollution of the god's true spirit!

As they processed this development, they heard Lockhart's calm words:

"Mephisto, Dormammu—you're both eager to uncover the secret deep within my soul."

"Then come with me and witness it firsthand!"

"Thank you both for your assistance!"

Almost simultaneously...

Click! Click! Click!

"Dream World Sacrifice!"

Chapter 679: Sacrifice and Revelation

In the vast expanse of the true spirit space, countless threads of true spirit intertwined with one another. Their varying colors created a dazzling spectacle that would overwhelm any ordinary observer.

Indeed, if an ordinary person entered this realm, their will would collapse within seconds, reducing them to a mindless husk. Every true spirit thread here carried its own powerful will. Even a few brief glances would stir up one's thoughts, as the external wills exerted their influence.

With such a multitude of threads crisscrossing in every direction, anyone lacking proper defenses would lose control of their will and soul entirely. The inevitable result: pollution, followed by the complete assimilation of one's soul and true spirit.

Yet now, gray ripples—like tsunami waves—continued to impact the true spirit threads throughout this realm. The threads of different colors vibrated under this assault, though most remained intact. Upon closer inspection, however, one would notice that many threads had acquired a faint gray coating.

They were being contaminated further!

If the system's assessment were to be updated, the pollution level of the true spirit had now reached 60%, dangerously approaching the 70% warning threshold it had previously established.

What would happen at 70%? Would the true spirit collapse completely? Would it lose all reason and devolve into a beast? The system had revealed only that it would have "no value" and would not be "recycled." The implications remained ominous.

Shortly after the gray ripples appeared, a low chant emerged from the surrounding void. Though faint, it carried with peculiar clarity to all who might hear it:

"Dream World... Sacrifice!"

BOOM!

Instantly, at the very center of the true spirit space where Lockhart stood, colorful rays of light began pouring forth like water from a broken dam. The flow accelerated with each passing moment, growing faster and more intense.

Every true spirit thread was bathed in this light; every corner of the space filled with colorful dream illumination. Or more precisely, it was the raw power of dreams being released.

The accumulated power of Lockhart's two dream worlds unleashed itself completely in this moment and place. Without reservation.

Had Lockhart wished to preserve this power, he would never have chosen sacrifice as his path.

"Are you mad?"

"Lockhart, this is the foundation of your ascension to godhood!"

"Do you realize that this action will forever earn you the disgust of the dream authorities? You'll lose any chance—"

Mephisto and Dormammu shouted in disbelief as they witnessed the scene unfold.

In their eyes, although Lockhart's power couldn't match their own, he was clearly destined for divinity. Most likely, he had been groomed by the Supreme Sorcerer for this very purpose.

The key evidence was, of course, his dream world. Every god possessed their own dimensional realm, and while Lockhart's dream world might seem somewhat illusory, it was complete in all essential aspects.

His command over the dream world enabled him to channel and even integrate the power of dreams into his being. From Mephisto and Dormammu's perspective, the Supreme Sorcerer had paved Lockhart's path by eliminating the Dream God who had stood among them. That god's origin had become the cornerstone of Lockhart's dream world—how else could it have developed so successfully?

To them, Lockhart had essentially consumed the Dream God and inherited his legacy. With the Supreme Sorcerer's support, his future seemed destined to place him on equal footing with them.

But now, what was Lockhart doing?

He had directly sacrificed his dream world and the primal power of dreams it contained.

What madness was this?

Destroying one's future in an act of incomprehensible folly!

After this sacrifice, not only would he lose his greatest power—the dream world—but he would forever be anathema to the forces of dreams. Consequently, every path to godhood related to dreams would be permanently closed to him.

Wasn't this just self-destruction born of desperation?

"The sparrow understands not the ambitions of the swan," Lockhart's calm voice replied.

Mephisto and Dormammu's expressions darkened. Both were gods who had lived for countless millennia. How could they fail to grasp the meaning behind Lockhart's words?

"You two wanted the treasure deep within my soul? Then come with me!"

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

In an instant, the colorful light intensified, sweeping over them like a wave and enveloping both Mephisto and Dormammu.

Neither resisted. They recognized that Lockhart, in his state of sacrificing the dream world, was nearly invincible at this moment and in this place.

They had initially considered resistance, but Lockhart's words had eliminated any such thoughts. Since he seemed determined to destroy himself anyway, they might as well uncover the secret behind his power.

Their curiosity was genuine. After all, they had perceived only vague hints of an opportunity to achieve eternal power.

Without resistance, the colorful light pushed them forward like a rushing current, bringing them before Lockhart.

What they saw, however, surprised them yet again.

Lockhart's entire form consisted of colorful light—neither a soul state nor a true spirit manifestation. Even Mephisto had never witnessed anything like it before.

"What are you...?" Dormammu hesitated, clearly bewildered.

Seeing uncertainty on their faces delighted Lockhart. It suggested that his plan's probability of success had risen significantly.

"You two sought to find the treasure deep in my soul," Lockhart said with a smile. "I'll let you meet it directly!"

His words carried an unmistakable confidence, as if unconcerned with these evil gods' thoughts or reactions.

Understandably so—after all, these were merely incarnations, not the actual gods themselves. After sacrificing his dream world, Lockhart now far exceeded the power of these divine avatars.

As he finished speaking, the surrounding colorful light transformed into chains that securely bound Mephisto and Dormammu.

Still, they offered no resistance and showed little concern. They could afford this one defeat. What mattered most was discovering Lockhart's secret.

Next time, they would ensure Lockhart had no hope of escape. As long as they survived this encounter, countless future opportunities would present themselves.

Lockhart, of course, understood their calculations but remained unconcerned. He possessed the means to sever the connection between these avatars and their divine selves.

The colorful chains bound Mephisto and Dormammu tightly, suppressing all their abilities. With a gentle wave of his hand, Lockhart summoned a dull-eyed soul to appear beside him.

"How can this be?"

"Who are you?!"

Mephisto and Dormammu were shocked by the sight before them.

For the soul Lockhart had summoned was... Lockhart himself.

With their divine perception, they could tell this soul was complete, including its true spirit, lacking nothing.

Yet if this was Lockhart's soul, then who—or what—stood before them now?

Lockhart had no intention of answering their questions. Instead, he spoke gently to the soul beside him:

"System, let's make another deal."

"These two evil gods will be given to you, along with their original power. Let's meet."

Chapter 680: Meeting the System

System?

What?

Could this be Lockhart's treasure?

After Lockhart finished speaking, doubt flickered through the minds of the imprisoned Mephisto and Dormammu. Their attention immediately fixed on Lockhart's dull-eyed soul.

Before them stood two Lockharts—one with vacant eyes, the familiar Lockhart in his soul state. The other, body radiating colorful light and gaze piercing to the core, was the Lockhart who had just spoken.

Mephisto had a vague theory about Lockhart's current state, but he couldn't be certain.

Lockhart stared intently at his other self. This time when he called the system, no light screen appeared before him. This likely confirmed that the system still existed within his original soul.

Lockhart's feelings toward the system were complicated.

When it came to gratitude, he certainly owed it thanks. Without the system's help in traveling between worlds, even his accomplishments in the Harry Potter world would have been limited by that reality's constraints. He could never have reached his current position.

After all, the Marvel world and the Harry Potter world were fundamentally different.

One encompassed the multiverse with countless powerful beings—some who had existed since the universe's birth and would persist even beyond its death.

The other merely featured more magical elements, with almost no true immortals. At best, wizards might live a few hundred years longer than normal, but death remained inevitable.

How could these worlds be compared?

In the Harry Potter world, no matter how talented Lockhart might be, the limitations of that reality meant he would eventually die.

This was the simple truth.

For this reason, Lockhart genuinely felt grateful to the system.

Yet simultaneously, he remained cautious. As the saying goes, nothing in this world comes for free.

When Lockhart made friends, created his own domain, and trained students like Ian and Wanda, he always had his own objectives.

He joined Kamar-Taj, obtained valuable magical resources, and developed his own power—all with purpose.

Students like Jean, Wanda, and Melamemi were developed through considerable investment of resources. What he wanted in return was their loyalty—the assurance that they would complete critical tasks even at the cost of their lives.

This was why he trained his students.

Since Lockhart himself operated this way, what then was the system's purpose in cultivating him?

It couldn't possibly be doing so without purpose. That would be absurd.

In fact, the system's extraordinary lottery ability suggested it could create formidable individuals at will—if it chose to do so. Of course, such powerful beings would merely be the system's puppets.

What the system could bestow, it could just as easily reclaim. There would be no true autonomy.

This was why Lockhart had tried his best to avoid becoming overly dependent on the system. When he had no choice but to rely on it, he endeavored to establish transactional relationships.

The evil god's soul, true spirit, original power—these were valuable to the system. There might even be a premium on what he was asking for, but Lockhart didn't mind. Consider it his expression of gratitude.

However, meeting the system face-to-face could reveal its true intentions. For Lockhart, this was crucial. It would determine whether their future relationship would be as allies or enemies.

Obviously, the system had previously concealed itself deep within Lockhart's soul, leaving no trace. If there was a breakdown in their relationship now, it would bode ill for Lockhart.

But he had made preparations and paid an enormous price. Finally, he had found an opportunity to meet the system while ensuring his own safety.

Silence!

After Lockhart finished speaking, his other soul remained silent, maintaining its dull state. This disappointed him.

He spoke again, this time with a subtle hint of menace in his voice:

"I'm only asking for a meeting."

"Having known me for so long, you should understand who I am and what I want."

"We've cooperated successfully before, and I hope we can continue to do so."

"As a gesture of sincerity, I offer you these two incarnations of evil gods and their original power."

Dormammu and Mephisto, hearing themselves treated as mere objects—greeting gifts to be handed over—seethed with rage. Yet they maintained their composure.

Lockhart wasn't hiding his intentions from them, probably expecting their demise. They realized that Lockhart knew little about the treasure within his soul—he couldn't even tell whether it was friend or foe.

Additionally, sacrificing an incarnation, while costly, remained within acceptable limits for them. So they suppressed their fury and waited for the coveted treasure to reveal itself, even if it meant their temporary defeat.

They believed that as long as they didn't truly die, opportunity would eventually come. After all, neither of them was a god who dominated the world.

And though Lockhart possessed the potential for godhood, he had just sacrificed his dream world, significantly diminishing his prospects. How could someone who had sabotaged his own future possibly keep such a treasure?

Suddenly—

Their eyes widened as a purple-gold light emerged from the center of Lockhart's soul. The light didn't assume human form, but instead coalesced into a luminous sphere.

A sigh emanated from it.

"Host, I'm curious."

"Why sacrifice your dream world?"

"It was not only your most powerful tool but had become your core foundation."

"Such opportunities are exceedingly rare."

Though the system's voice maintained its familiar mechanical quality, it now carried unmistakable curiosity.

"Was it merely to meet me?"

"You are indeed in a remarkable state now."

"Understanding your own identity and leveraging the concept of 'existence' to achieve condensation."

"Your level of sophistication has touched the edge of the Eternal!"

Before Lockhart could respond, Dormammu and Mephisto began breathing rapidly.

The Eternal One!

Was this a realm comparable to the creation gods of the multiverse?

Though they didn't fully comprehend it, merely hearing the name stirred something profound within them. They sensed its immense significance.

The system paid no attention to Dormammu and Mephisto's status. In its perception, they were merely sustenance.

What value did additional food have when one wasn't starving?

Its focus remained solely on Lockhart.

Lockhart's choice puzzled it deeply—as it did Dormammu and Mephisto.

Why would someone abandon godhood when it lay within reach?

It seemed utterly foolish!