Chapter 1721 (1/2)
I don't know how long it is before dawn, but the dense rain almost occupies every inch of the sky. These silver bright lines sew the sky and earth together, and the horizon in the distance is almost invisible.
Voldemort held on to his wand, and all his followers were gone, except for the dwarfs turning into mice.
They were either killed in anger by the leaky Dark Lord or dragged into the darkness by the undead, but now Voldemort has become a loner.
The rain diluted the bloodstains on the ground, trickling down the stone steps of the luxury mausoleum into the grass, and the soil under the grass seemed to become darker.
The Voldemort leaned wearily against the porch post of the tomb, panting, but his face was whiter than before, breathing in from above and coming out from below.
Abdominal colic like the tide hit, and the cold surrounding magnified the feeling. The chill was like getting into his new body through his pores, then rolling around and finally into his stomach.
”Poof!”
”Pooch!”
”Yip ~ ~ ~ PA!”
Similar sounds continue to ring, and the movement behind him is like setting off firecrackers, and the black robe is as calm as the ebb and flow.
But the loss of his men also brought another benefit, that is, Voldemort can finally be unscrupulous to his heart's content, and his face was intoxicated at this time, completely forgetting to relax.
In fact, it's not. He's just in a trance with a stomachache, and just now it's really the water that has burst out of the gas...
now he doesn't dare to speak up or move, otherwise he doubts whether his intestines will run out. This hardly needs the brain to think about it, but the biological instinct tells him so.
”Voldemort!”
The panting Dark Lord heard someone calling his name. He turned his head hard and saw a luminous body in the shape of a human coming towards him.
It's too dazzling. In the dark, it seems that only that is the only light source. Everything in the cemetery around is shrouded in colorful light, becoming hazy and fuzzy. Even the rain and water are like gossamer, with faint illusory light.
What kind of creature is it? Angels?
As a half Muggle, although he hated all Muggles, but in the orphanage, how much or contact Muggle people's faith, that ridiculous God.
Like Santa Claus, it's all fake. Everyone's lying to him. He hates the world.
Voldemort's mind is blank. In fact, his tolerance for pain is not strong. His willpower is extremely weak because he has split the Horcrux many times. Where can a man with a riddled soul have any willpower?
But he also probably guessed that the other party certainly did not come to take him to some Muggle paradise, but wanted him to die.
He shook his body and stood up with the stone pillar beside him. On the night of heavy rain, there was a layer of greasy moisture on the stone, which made him stagger for a moment.
”I don't know you, but you are the one who came to take my life?” Voldemort couldn't look directly at the figure. His eyes couldn't bear such brilliance. But he blocked his eyes with one hand and held up his wand with the other hand: ”I didn't expect that I would die in a place like this, but I'll come back one day!”
”I can't come back.” The other party answered him in a pleasant voice. It was a young girl's voice, and even the trace of puberty voice change: ”your Horcrux has been destroyed by me, this is a farewell.”
Voldemort's hand trembled, and he clamped something in his body. He couldn't allow himself to have diarrhea when talking to the enemy!
When he reached the end of his bathtub with a wet mixture, the water began to flow.
He could see the vague white shadow as if he had stepped back a few steps, and his face was full of disgust, which made Voldemort angry.
”AVA...”
”boom!”
A thunder like sound was heard at close range, and Voldemort felt a sudden weight in his abdomen, and the whole man rose uncontrollably into the air and fell on the stone steps.
There was a lot of blood flowing everywhere with the visceral debris, and he was defeated before he knew what was going on.