Chapter 1120 - 207: Fifteen Minutes in the Studio

"I think you made a wrong decision, Mr. Nelson."

The young man looked at the shattered equipment, gasping painfullly: "Mr. Machioni will kill you."

Nelson's face was slightly pale, but he stubbornly said, "Go take a look at the ratings now! Maybe I'll even get a reward!"

Selena and Grim were both experienced Aurors, their spells precise and deadly, the chaotic flying spells had no chance of landing on either of them.

However, Selena's spellcasting level was clearly superior, her defense was impenetrable, her counterattacks swift as lightning, step by step forcing the increasingly clumsy Grim into a corner.

"You can't win, Grim!"

Selena shouted loudly: "Stop! Withdraw!"

As soon as the words fell, an extremely abrupt green light suddenly shot out from nowhere, hitting Selena squarely in the chest with no warning.

Immediately afterward, Grim's Disarming Spell also hit the suddenly motionless Selena, and her slender magic wand spiraled away.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still.

Selena slowly lowered her head, looking at her chest—

There was no blood, no wound, only a cold sensation rapidly spreading through her body, sapping all her strength, all her warmth.

Her pupils quickly dilated, all the light extinguished in an instant, without saying a word, her body collapsed softly.

"Bang!"

She was dead.

Avada Kedavra, the irredeemable Killing Curse.

The others all stopped, looking over here in shock.

"No—no—Selena—" Anderson screamed, lunging over, his hands trembling as he tried to lift his companion, crying out in grief: "Don't do this to me, don't die… Selena…."

"You killed her, Rex Grim!" Selena's other companion, Lopez, screamed, snapping her magic wand violently: "Confringo!"

"Boom!"

A loud explosion sent the stunned Grim flying backward, crashing heavily against the wall, his chest a bloody mess.

He struggled to prop himself up, tremblingly saying: "I… I didn't…."

At this moment, the heavy footsteps seemed to make the floor tremble, as a group of people appeared again at the studio door.

Laira Piqueley walked in, and behind her was a throng of people. Her gaze immediately landed on Selena's corpse, then jerked towards Grim:

"Rex Grim!"

Laira shouted in disbelief: "You… you actually did this! We just found out you were the mole the Scourers placed in the Congress, and you… you used the Killing Curse to murder Selena Goldstein!"

Grim jerked his head up to look at Laira, at this moment, his eyes were too complex to be described in words.

He wanted to explain, wanted to howl, wanted to point out that the real murderer was not him.

But suddenly, his throat couldn't produce any sound, he could only uselessly open his mouth, like a ridiculous, water-less fish.

Laira's men swarmed forward, roughly pinning him to the ground, then dragging him out.

Grim's blood-red eyes glared at Laira, watching as the woman walked quickly to Selena's body, then slowly knelt down.

She reached out, gently caressing Selena's now lifeless cheek, the gesture heartbreakingly tender.

"Selena… my dear friend…"

Laira choked out: "Why are you so foolish… why act alone… why spare him even at the end? If not for that, you wouldn't have…."

She couldn't continue, sobbing as she gently cradled Selena, like holding a sleeping child.

Her voice spread throughout the United States via Flow Mirror:

"I swear… your sacrifice will not be forgotten! We will be more united, more determined—purging the traitors, resisting the external enemies! The truth will come to light, we will avenge you! I swear!"

She lowered her head, burying her face into Selena's shoulder, her shoulders trembling slightly, as if suppressing great sorrow.

Inside and outside the broadcast, countless people were moved and began to sob softly.

Kobit, Hosone, Hughes, Perez, Goldstein, Grim… Recently, the high officials of the Magic Congress had faced issues one after another, either encountering accidents or betraying duties, the entire institution was like a tottering tower.

Though the deadly storm had not directly hit the general public, the people deeply felt piercing cold, uneasy and anxious.

At this moment, Laira's sobs were like a tonic, reinfusing hope and warmth into everyone's hearts.

She was a leader with warmth, who would tremble and shed tears, not so rigid, not so cold, and not aloof. She could empathize with others' pain, holding a cluster of inextinguishable firelight in the broken dark.

Yet outside the camera, at an angle no one could see, there was a faint, momentary upward curve at the corner of Laira's mouth.

Just for an instant.

Then she raised her head with that face full of grief and determination.

"Turn off the signal."

She said wearily and sadly: "I want to take Selena back… prepare a funeral for her…."

This time, under the cold stares of the Congress officials, Nelson dared not delay further, extending his hand to turn off the broadcast signal.

The Flow Mirror's surface ripples surged, the screen cut off, reverting to the deep blue standby state, then switched to the previously halted program.

In the studio, the sudden intrusion of Congress people exited just as abruptly as they came.

Only one official with a gloomy expression lingered behind, asking Nelson: "Did Goldstein say anything to you before the broadcast started?"

"N-no." Nelson sweated profusely, nervously saying: "Director Goldstein took out an authorization, said she needed fifteen minutes… she was very determined…."

The official's cold gaze roamed over Nelson's face, spotting the FMC logo on his hat, revealing a hint of fear in his expression.

"Good." The official coldly said: "You'd better remember this—today you know nothing!"

The last person also left.

Nelson instructed the staff to return to work, sitting himself down in the chaotic Studio No. 3, lowering his head in dejection.

He never expected that in the end, this matter would conclude with Selena's death.

If he could have foreseen this outcome, would he still have agreed to Selena's request?

Nelson glanced up at the surviving clock, discovering that from beginning to end, it had been exactly fifteen minutes.

He closed his eyes, unable to express his sadness.

"Mr. Nelson…"

At this moment, the young man sidled over hesitantly, cold sweat on his forehead, eyes nervously darting around, then stealthily pulled out a stack of papers from his coat.

"These were brought by Director Goldstein." The young man said in a whisper-like voice: "The Congress people didn't notice, I thought you might want to have a look…"

Nelson flipped through it, growing more shocked as he read, his hands began to shake violently, making the paper rustle lightly.

At the end, he felt a wave of dizziness, fear and anger entwined like two serpents around his heart.

He closed his eyes, pondering for a moment.

This time, no more acting on his own…

"Peter." Nelson took a deep breath and said: "Help me contact Mr. Machioni."