HP/LOTM: Visionary - 393

Chapter 393: The Seventh — Distorted Order and Sealing

Aiden flicked his wand and sent a standard attack spell flying. His opponent raised one hand, almost lazily.

Chaos and madness descended together.

Corrosion. Reversion.

Aiden’s spell was broken down in an instant, reduced to raw magic, and absorbed.

“Bloody hell. How are we supposed to fight that?” Oliver froze on the spot.

Worse was yet to come. The being ripped its own arm open and scattered divine blood over the ground.

The ruins underfoot twisted and multiplied. An army of monsters rose up before them.

“Then there’s only one option left. Oliver, look after my family,” Aiden said quietly, glancing back over his shoulder.

“Oi, you’re not about to—”

Before Oliver could finish, Aiden flung him out into the dream labyrinth.

“Aiden Prewett! This is not over!” Oliver’s roar echoed back. Aiden’s lips curled in a slight smile.

He straightened. Dragon scales flowed across his face as his body swelled and stretched. Mind Dragon form fully manifested.

Around them, the lesser monsters began to warp just from looking at the sigils on Aiden’s hide. They twisted into half-draconic creatures and spun round to tear into their former allies.

“What’s one more thousand-year brawl? I know this game,” Aiden said.

Dreams around him shaped themselves into shells under his will, fusing into the mad, distorted torrent of magic.

No light. No heat. No thunderous detonation. Every element was arranged in perfect harmony by the Discerner, all of it feeding this one strike.

“Let the authority of fantasy unfold,” Aiden murmured.

His entire dragon form became a lance of white light and crashed into his opponent, forcing them out of the boundary between illusion and reality and driving them down into the Deep Realm.

A storm like a solar flare tore through that place, but the Deep Realm’s original masters were unlikely to complain.

Aiden shoved his foe downward, and Hogwarts Castle rose into being behind him. Its gates opened. Chains of order spilled out, ready to recreate the scene that had once sealed Chaos.

“No,” the system’s voice cut across his mind.

“What—” Aiden obeyed on reflex. The chains froze.

His foe reached out and seized them. The locks turned at once, binding Aiden instead. A pleased smile spread over the stranger’s face as they stepped up to him.

“Nice to meet you at last, Father. I am the seventh Deep Realm King… Distorted Order.”

The Seventh looked up, face now a perfect mirror of Aiden’s own.

Across the world, on the six Stone Slabs of Silence, a new name carved itself into being. Six different scripts, one shared meaning.

The Seventh. Distorted Order.

He gazed at Aiden with hungry fascination, fingertips brushing lightly along his cheek. “Ah. That face. That body. Perfect.”

“Voldemort, that… how did she even pull this off?” Aiden ground his teeth. Super-speed generation gap indeed.

“No. This was not her doing. The Deep Realm Kings who yearned for a new mind borrowed her body,” Distorted Order said, cupping his own face with both hands, heterochromatic eyes going hazy with delight. “Your appearance, Father, forced them to confront death. Under that pressure, I was born.”

He swayed in place, almost coquettish, then stretched out a hand and began to stain the surroundings.

“What?” Aiden’s eyes widened.

“A new king needs a territory, does he not?” Distorted Order gave him a sugar-sweet smile.

“Damn it.”

Aiden gathered every last scrap of dream he had stored, ready to blow them both apart and flee in the chaos.

“I told you, you cannot,” a gentle voice whispered, and the power he had been about to detonate smoothed itself out, settling back into him.

The pendant at his throat glowed softly. Everything within sight froze in place. Even the spread of Distorted Order’s corruption halted.

Aiden turned and saw a woman standing behind him. Her hair was white as fresh snow, her eyes a deep blue, her features so flawless and harmonious they seemed carved from marble.

“At last. I can see you again,” she said, and folded him into a hug.

He had seen that face a thousand times in old photographs, but standing in front of her for real, Aiden found he could not speak.

“M… Mother,” he managed, staring straight at her.

At Eleanor Prewett.

“Your face takes after mine. And you even have one of Gideon’s eyes as well. Tch,” Eleanor said, her expression twisting with distaste.

“You really hate him that much?” Aiden gave a strained laugh.

“Hmph. He never came home. Always running off like some adolescent hero to fight Voldemort. You were born, and he never came back to see you. Infuriating man,” Eleanor muttered.

She let out a breath. “All right. Time is short. This is the last conversation I can have with you using the mind power I left here.”

She drew him in tighter and stroked his hair. Even in hell, a mother’s embrace wrapped Aiden in a sense of safety that nothing else could match.

“In a moment, I will use the Final Protocol to seal him at the bottom of the Deep Realm. You must complete your advancement as quickly as possible and claim control of the Final Protocol,” Eleanor said, her tone turning serious.

“The Final Protocol… but the system is the only…” Aiden fell silent mid-sentence as he recalled just how many things about his advancement had failed to add up.

“Everything is rooted in the mind. Mind power is the most fundamental force in this world. The so-called Sequence levels are locks that the Protocol placed on you, and also reflections of your own mind. Each time you undo one layer, you gain more authority and become stronger,” Eleanor said, ruffling his hair again.

“And you?” Aiden looked up.

“I am just a little thief who found a loophole. If I had known how this would turn out, I would never have gotten involved. I could have watched you grow up. But Molly raised you well. You can charm girls. You can torment boys. Aiden, I am sorry I left your path so early. But I love you.”

She kissed his forehead lightly, then turned away toward Distorted Order. Time, which had been frozen, began to flow again.

“Father… wait, who are—” Distorted Order’s face twisted.

“Bold of you, Little Thirteen,” Eleanor said. Her deep blue eyes filled with silver.

“You… impossible. I destroyed you. Sixteen years ago, that night, you were erased. I am the end. I am the final one!” Distorted Order howled, staring at the faint glow pulsing in the gem at Aiden’s throat.

A crawling dread climbed up his spine. Instinct screamed one thing.

Call for help.

His power pierced the Deep Realm, searching for the other Kings.

But even fools know: if something has hurt you once, you do not stick your hand back in. He had just carved out their cores and broken his promise to release them. Now he wanted aid? With a straight face?

Silence answered him from all six layers of the Deep Realm.

“Clench your teeth, Little Thirteen,” Eleanor said.

She stepped forward. Her right hand blazed with silver fire as she raised it high and drove it forward.

One friendly, landscape-altering punch obliterated Distorted Order’s head. Silver radiance poured down, forging itself into a tomb that slammed shut around him.

The shining coffin fell through the Deep Realm like a meteor, slamming into the very bottom layer and pinning him there.