Novel Full Chapter 1241 Headmaster Wulfric’s concern about Harry
Chapter 1241 Headmaster Wulfric’s concern about Harry
In a room cluttered with parchments, tables laden with various cauldrons, and the soft glow of lanterns casting shadows on the walls, Layla found herself seated comfortably. Her gaze was fixed on a white dragon, small in form, perched atop one of the lanterns, its scales shimmering in the dim light.
As the door creaked open, she turned to greet the newcomer, a kind old man with a white beard and hair, his eyes peering through glasses. “Headmaster Wulfric,” she greeted him with a warm smile.
“Ah, Layla,” Wulfric responded with equal warmth, closing the door gently behind him. “How is Harry doing at your home?”
“He’s a good boy, growing up faster than I’d ever expected,” Layla replied, a hint of pride in her voice.
Wulfric’s smile broadened, a soft sigh escaping him. “He’s a tough kid. His experiences… they’ll shape him into a great man.” Yet, as he spoke, Layla noticed a shadow of something else flicker in his eyes—something like turmoil.
“Why did you really ask me to come, Headmaster?” Layla inquired, her intuition sensing the undercurrent of concern beneath his composed exterior.
Wulfric, admiring her perceptiveness, took a moment before he spoke. “It’s about something… grave. A realm tear has appeared,” he revealed, the weight of his words hanging in the air.
Layla’s expression shifted from curiosity to shock, her previous concerns momentarily forgotten. “A realm tear? Here?” The concept was alarming, and the implications even more so.
“Yes,” Wulfric continued, his voice steady despite the seriousness of the topic. “It’s not just any tear. It’s one that could change the fabric of our world as we know it. I fear what might come through it… and what it means for us all, especially for Harry.”
The news hit Layla like a cold wave, her mind racing with the potential dangers such a tear could unleash upon their world. The revelation, delivered by Wulfric with a calmness that belied the severity of the situation, only served to heighten her concern.
As they sat amidst the clutter of scholarly endeavors, Wulfric delved deeper into the matter at hand, his voice tinged with a gravity that commanded attention. “The energy radiation leaking from the realm tear is… intense, unlike anything our world has ever encountered,” he explained, his brow furrowed in concern.
Layla, her mind already racing with possibilities, ventured, “What might have caused such a thing?” Despite the question, a gnawing feeling in her gut suggested it might be tied to Harry’s father, the Dark Lord whose name still sent shivers down the spine of the world, even after many believed him to be dead.
Wulfric, perceptive as always, caught the undercurrent of her thoughts. “I cannot say for certain what caused it,” he admitted with a calm that seemed to anchor the room. “But at this moment, our focus must be on what will come through, not what caused the tear.”
A heavy sigh escaped Layla as she braced herself for the answer to the question that loomed over them like a dark cloud. “What is it that will come through?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Adjusting his glasses as if to prepare himself for the impact of his words, Wulfric responded, “Something otherworldly. If my calculations hold true, we are to expect a hydra.”
The shock on Layla’s face was palpable, her eyes widening as she processed the revelation. “A hydra?” she echoed, disbelief mingling with a growing sense of dread.
“How can you be sure?” she pressed, seeking clarity amidst the swirling fears.
Wulfric, ever the scholar, answered with a meticulousness that betrayed his deep concern. “The energy radiation emanating from the realm tear shares remarkable similarities with the energy disturbances we’ve monitored around the Southern Continent. And we both know what resides within Stormville Mountain, causing such depletion.”
“Mugashuku,” Layla confirmed, the name falling from her lips like a stone into still water, its implications sending ripples through her already troubled mind.
The prospect of a hydra, a creature of myth and nightmare, tearing through the fabric of their reality was daunting enough. But the connection to Mugashuku, the source of the Southern Continent’s energy void, added a layer of complexity and urgency to the unfolding crisis.
“Another hydra,” Layla muttered under her breath, the words heavy with a sense of foreboding.
Wulfric nodded solemnly before adding, “We also know who else commands a hydra.” The room fell into an uneasy silence, the implication of his words hanging in the air like a dark cloud.
Breaking the silence, Layla voiced the name that had been on both their minds. “Ghost… the Dark Lord…” Her voice was a whisper, laden with apprehension and uncertainty.
“The God of Darkness,” Wulfric corrected gently, his tone devoid of fear or malice. Unlike the rest of the world, he did not regard the title with dread. His calm demeanor suggested a perspective not swayed by common belief, almost as if he never truly considered Ghost to be the embodiment of evil as others did.
“Are the rumors true, is he still alive?” Layla asked, her curiosity piqued. She had never fully believed the narrative that Noah had vanquished the Dark Lord, as widely accepted by the public. If the Dark Lord and the Dark Queen had truly met their end, Layla reasoned, the dark forces would have disintegrated, leaderless and aimless. Yet, she was no ordinary observer. Her connections in high places provided her with insights others lacked. Through them, she learned of the dark forces’ growing strength and their ever-expanding influence across the world—a feat that seemed impossible without formidable leadership.
Furthermore, whispers among the new gods hinted at the God of Darkness’s presence in the realm of gods. Layla understood that in any vast army or organization, complete secrecy was a myth. Some within the dark forces themselves had claimed that the Dark Lord and the Dark Queen were indeed alive.
I believe he’s still out there, alive, and fighting against the true forces of evil,” Wulfric leaned forward and, his voice firm in the belief that the Dark Lord was not the villain many painted him to be.
Layla sighed softly, nodding in agreement. Deep down, she too had never seen Ghost as the malevolent figure the world made him out to be. She understood that Ghost, unlike Noah, might not embody the archetype of a hero, but he was far from the embodiment of evil many claimed. Ghost was a figure of complexity, driven by his own moral code and principles, a realist navigating the shades of grey that defined their world.
As Layla pondered on Ghost’s true nature, Wulfric continued.
“The whole world, including the Skyhall, branded him as evil. Yet, when he was here, there was no war, nor were there new gods rampaging across the lands forcing people into worship or sowing terror wherever they went. And despite having the power to cause immense destruction, he chose creation. The River Town stands as a testament to his efforts to build, not destroy.” He paused for a moment, letting the significance of his words sink in. “They call him evil, but to the people of River Town, he is still their god. He transformed a humble fishing village into a thriving city. Their loyalty to him, despite the world’s opinion, is unwavering.”
Layla knew well that after the Skyhall had abolished the sects and attempted to suppress River Town for its loyalty to the Dark Lord, Noah, upon rebuilding the Guardian Guild and rising to power, chose not to suppress them. Thus, River Town thrived independently, a beacon of what Ghost had once envisioned.
Breaking the flow of their conversation, Layla interjected, “As much as I love talking about River Town, why am I really here? I doubt I can be of much help against a hydra.”
Wulfric took a deep breath, his expression turning grave. “There are forces working against us all, Layla. And I’m worried that these forces might use Harry to bring the Dark Lord back into this world to finish what they started.”
The room fell into a heavy silence, both Layla and Wulfric grappling with the enormity of the situation. The knowledge that Harry’s lineage was now common knowledge among their enemies filled Layla with a sense of dread. But after a while, Layla’s resolve hardened as she processed Wulfric’s words, her protective instincts for Harry surging to the forefront. “Whatever they are planning with Harry, I won’t let them succeed,” she declared with a fierce determination that brooked no argument. The thought of anyone using Harry, especially because of his lineage, ignited a fire within her that she had not felt before.
Wulfric nodded, appreciating her resolve but also recognizing the complexity of the situation. “The professors at Mazeroth Academy and I will do everything within our power to protect Harry,” he assured her, his voice steady and sincere. “But what he needs most from you, Layla, is protection from himself.”
Layla furrowed her brow, puzzled by Wulfric’s words, prompting him to elaborate. “Being the Dark Lord’s son will inevitably place Harry under a different light in the eyes of others. Some may treat him with fear, others with undue reverence, and some might seek to manipulate him for their own ends,” Wulfric explained, his concern for Harry’s well-being evident in his tone.
“He must learn to navigate these perceptions without losing sight of who he is. The weight of his heritage could easily sway him, shape him in ways we cannot predict. Your role, Layla, is to ensure that Harry remains grounded, that he understands his value does not lie in his lineage but in his actions and his heart.”
Layla listened intently, absorbing the gravity of Wulfric’s words. She understood now that protecting Harry would involve more than just shielding him from external threats. It would require guiding him through the turbulent waters of identity and self-perception, helping him to understand that he is not defined by the deeds of his father but by his own choices and character.
Understanding the depth of Wulfric’s advice, Layla felt a solemn vow forming within her. With a determined look in her eyes, Layla stood up. “I don’t care about the gods’ wars, their schemes, or the hydra that will come through the realm tear,” she stated firmly, her voice echoing with unwavering conviction in the now silent room.
Her eyes met Wulfric’s, leaving no room for doubt about the depth of her resolve. “What matters to me is my son. I will do anything to protect him from others and from himself, even if it costs me my life.”