Nurmengard.
Hundreds of Saints had already gathered in the enormous stone square beneath the fortress, and more continued arriving with every passing minute. Black robes fluttered beneath the cold mountain winds, forming an ocean of dark figures that stretched from the castle gates all the way to the outer walls.
Despite the size of the crowd, the atmosphere remained strangely quiet.
Aside from the occasional whisper or cautious glance, most people simply waited in silence.
They were waiting for the young man who would determine the future of the Saint Group.
"The numbers are about right now, and there are quite a few Aurors hidden among them." Abernethy stood behind Lucien with a worried expression. "Are you absolutely certain you don't want to visit your foster father first?"
Lucien merely smiled faintly.
"Uncle Abernethy," he said calmly, "the moment I stepped into Nurmengard, the test had already begun."
"But—"
"Let's go." Lucien interrupted gently while adjusting his sleeve. "It's time to meet our old friends."
With a wave of his wand, the massive castle gates slowly opened.
Vinda Rosier remained silent as she followed behind him, though the look in her eyes carried unmistakable approval. Abernethy, on the other hand, still seemed uneasy. He glanced nervously toward the fortress tower in the distance before finally sighing and stepping forward as well.
The moment Lucien appeared, the square gradually quieted.
Years ago, whenever Gellert Grindelwald stepped before his followers, the world itself seemed to tremble beneath thunderous cheers and fanatic devotion. Compared to that era, today's reaction felt painfully cold.
Most of the gathered Saints simply watched silently.
A few elderly wizards even showed traces of impatience.
"Sir, should we move now?"
A young Auror hidden within the crowd quietly leaned toward the middle-aged man beside him.
The middle-aged wizard shook his head immediately.
"Not yet."
His eyes remained fixed firmly on the center of the square.
"This is Nurmengard. If we provoke the man inside that tower, nobody here can survive the consequences."
Another blond-haired Auror in his twenties sneered quietly.
"He's just a child. Eleven years old at most." His tone was filled with disdain. "Honestly, I think Grindelwald's finally gone senile if he plans to hand the Saint Group over to a kid."
"I hope you're right," the older Auror muttered grimly.
Meanwhile, Lucien walked steadily toward the center of the square.
Every step was calm and unhurried.
He stopped beneath the enormous black banners hanging overhead, raised his wand across his chest, and bowed slightly toward the crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began softly, "thank you for coming today."
His voice was not loud, yet it spread clearly throughout the entire square.
"For decades, we have wandered in hiding. We have lost homes, comrades, families, and friends." Lucien's eyes swept calmly across the gathered crowd. "The Saint Group survived only because of everyone standing here today."
"I thank all of you."
He bowed deeply.
Looking at the exhausted faces before him, Lucien felt genuine emotion rise in his chest. Once upon a time, the Saint Group had shaken the entire wizarding world. Thousands followed Grindelwald willingly across Europe.
Now only a few hundred remained.
Many were elderly.
Some were injured.
Others simply looked tired beyond words.
But Lucien did not feel disappointed.
After a brief silence, he slowly continued.
"I know why you came here today."
"I understand your dreams, your persistence, and the things you refuse to abandon."
"Many people call us sinners. They claim we brought chaos to the wizarding world." Lucien suddenly let out a quiet laugh. "But honestly…"
"That's nonsense."
The crowd stirred immediately.
Several furious voices shouted from different directions.
"They're fools!"
"They understand nothing!"
Lucien gently raised one hand.
Almost instantly, the voices quieted again.
"Back then, Gellert Grindelwald warned the wizarding world about the future." Lucien's tone became calm once more. "And in return, he spent decades imprisoned inside this fortress."
"Many people believe I should hate those responsible for that."
"But the truth is exactly the opposite."
Lucien's gaze remained steady.
"I do not hate them."
"Not even a little."
The crowd fell silent again.
"If possible," Lucien continued, "I would prefer peaceful coexistence with the rest of the wizarding world."
"We are not fighting because of hatred."
"The only difference between us… is our ideals."
Many of the older Saints suddenly looked dazed.
Quite a few among them had personally attended Grindelwald's rally at Père Lachaise Cemetery decades earlier. They still remembered the man who once stood before the world with unmatched confidence and charisma.
And now, as they stared at Lucien…
They almost felt as though that figure had returned.
The same blond hair.
The same blue eyes.
The same calm elegance that made people unconsciously want to follow him.
One elderly wizard trembled visibly as he stepped forward.
"Grindelwald…"
His voice shook with emotion.
For a brief moment, he genuinely believed the young man before him was Gellert Grindelwald himself.
"Wake up, Rowle!"
The wizard beside him grabbed his shoulder and shook him repeatedly until he finally regained his senses.
Everything happening below the stage was naturally noticed by Lucien.
He glanced toward Vinda Rosier beside him.
Without saying a word, she handed him a strange pipe carved from pale bone in the shape of a skull.
Lucien accepted it calmly.
"I may not possess the prophetic abilities of Gellert Grindelwald," he said slowly, "but I can still show everyone the reality of the world."
He inhaled deeply from the pipe.
Then exhaled.
An enormous cloud of smoke instantly spread across the square, swallowing the surroundings in pale grey mist.
The crowd stirred in confusion.
Then the smoke began to move.
Images formed within the air.
Tanks.
Warplanes.
Missiles.
Countless steel weapons flooded the vision of everyone present.
Explosions thundered through the illusion as massive mushroom clouds rose toward the sky.
The faces of many wizards instantly changed.
They could not imagine that Muggles—people without magic—could create such terrifying destructive power through technology alone.
Perhaps Albus Dumbledore could survive against one or two weapons.
But ordinary wizards?
How could they possibly resist such things?
Yet Lucien's display had only begun.
The illusion shifted again.
Satellites floated above the earth.
Spacecraft crossed the endless stars.
Countless machines and advanced technologies appeared one after another, each more unbelievable than the last.
Then suddenly, a beautiful blue planet emerged within the smoke.
The image zoomed downward rapidly.
Clouds passed.
Oceans appeared.
Islands became visible.
Finally, the perspective descended directly toward Nurmengard itself.
And the crowd saw themselves standing within the square.
Gasps erupted everywhere.
Then the smoke slowly dispersed.
The illusion vanished completely.
Silence dominated the square.
"Facts speak louder than words," Lucien said quietly.
"Muggle power is no longer weak."
"My father's warning was never wrong."
"And your choices back then were not wrong either."
His voice gradually grew firmer.
"The truth has always belonged to the few."
"It is not us who are wrong."
"It is this world."
Applause suddenly erupted from the crowd.
At first it was scattered.
Then it grew louder.
And louder.
Many elderly Saints had tears streaming down their faces as they stared toward Lucien with trembling expressions.
For decades, they had suffered exile, ridicule, and endless defeat. Even they had begun doubting whether their sacrifices truly meant anything.
But now someone finally stood before them and said the words they had waited half a lifetime to hear.
They were not wrong.
They had never been wrong.
They were the ones who understood the future.
Everything they sacrificed was for the survival of the wizarding world itself.
Lucien stood proudly beneath the dark banners while looking across the crowd.
"We are running out of time."
"Muggle weapons will eventually point toward the wizarding world."
His voice echoed throughout the square.
"So I ask all of you…"
"Will you continue hiding behind the Ministry of Magic like cowards?"
"NO!"
The response was uneven at first, though clearly louder than before.
"Will you allow your lives to remain under Muggle control?"
"NO!"
This time the roar was much stronger.
Many people had already clenched their fists tightly.
"Will you allow your families and friends to become slaves beneath Muggle feet?"
"NO!"
"NO!"
"NO!"
The crowd exploded instantly.
The roar of countless voices surged through the square like a tidal wave.
Even several hidden Aurors found themselves shouting unconsciously along with everyone else.
The middle-aged Auror leading the operation immediately turned and glared furiously at one of his subordinates. The younger Auror realized his mistake and hurriedly lowered his head in embarrassment.
But before anyone could recover, even more voices erupted behind them.
"NO!"
"NO!"
"NO!"
The cheers became deafening.
Many elderly wizards were openly crying now, yet their expressions burned with excitement and renewed purpose.
The Saint Group had finally found a new leader.
Lucien slowly raised his hand.
Almost instantly, silence returned.
His blue eyes swept calmly across every face present.
"After today," he said softly, "many people may die."
"If one day you see my corpse lying before you…" His expression remained utterly calm. "Do not mourn."
"Do not grieve."
"Pick up your wand."
"And continue fighting."
"We carry the responsibility of saving the wizarding world."
Lucien raised his wand toward the sky.
"For the Greater Good!"
"For the Greater Good!"
The crowd instantly descended into complete frenzy.
Countless voices roared the slogan Grindelwald himself once used to shake Europe.
Even old men in their seventies and eighties looked as though they had regained their youth.
Far away from the center of the square, one middle-aged Auror stood frozen in place.
"Roccas…" His voice trembled slightly. "Were we really wrong?"
Without realizing it, the wand in his hand slowly lowered.
"Snap out of it, Nies!"
The Head Auror grabbed his shoulder and shook him violently.
But Nies looked completely dazed.
"We're all part of the wizarding world…" he muttered. "We want the same future…"
"No. Calm yourself immediately!"
"He's worth following…"
"Nies!" The Head Auror stared at him in disbelief. "Have you lost your mind? You're an Auror!"
Nies slowly turned around.
"I am an Auror," he said quietly, "but I'm also a wizard."
Then he began walking toward the stage.
Like a pilgrim approaching his faith.
The Head Auror's expression finally darkened completely.
"Nies," he said coldly, gripping his wand tightly enough for veins to bulge across his hand, "you're forcing my hand."
Green light burst forward.
"Avada Kedavra!"