Unknown Month
The Minister of the Soviet Ministry of Magic, Konstantin Ilyich Romanov, staggered forward on the ice field, clutching his lower abdomen.
He looked at his watch. On the snow-covered dial, he could vaguely see the time. It was 12: 03 at night.
In the extreme daytime, the Arctic Circle at 12 o 'clock was still glaring. There was a blurry white sun in the sky.
The cold wind of minus 40 degrees whistled in the sky, and the snow fog was so thick that it was impossible to see anything.
Stepping on ice, the Minister of the Ministry of Magic, wearing a leather coat, fell on the ice field. He hissed in pain and spat out thick white fog.
He suddenly looked behind him in horror, as if an invisible ghost was following him. But there was nothing behind him except the wind and snow.
He looked up again.
On the vast and cold ice field, there was only a strange building in the distance that looked like a sunken ship. It was alone, as if it was isolated from the world.
Konstantin Ilich Romanov was a tall man who was nearly two meters tall. He was wearing a thick bearskin coat, and his wide face was pale. His pair of precious calfskin boots had been worn out during the long run, and he was left with only one pair of boots.
The five toes on his right foot were now frozen to two pitiful feet.
But none of this was important. What really hurt him was the wound on his lower abdomen.
He moved his palm with difficulty. Blood seeped through his fingers and froze into blood crystals before it fell to the ground. There was a huge gap where the squirming internal organs could be seen.
There was not much time left.
But his mission was not yet complete.
Thinking of the heavy responsibility on his shoulders, Konstantin struggled to get up from the snow and trudged desperately toward the sunken ship-like building.
Ten minutes later, he approached the building made entirely of marble. It was old, broken, and leaning.
But he could vaguely make out its former glory.
Konstantin struggled to the door, then waved his magic wand. An iron door half buried in the snow suddenly opened.
Konstantin fell into a ball and rolled into the ancient building.
As the cold iron door slammed down, Constantine sealed the entrance to this place.
He sank to the ground and began to pant painfully.
This was an empty building with at least a thousand years of history. It used to be a conference hall, and there were many broken stone chairs scattered around. The towering stone pillars on the walls were engraved with all kinds of creatures, including dragons, phoenixes, and even gods.
But Constantine was not in the mood to appreciate these things.
The cold had numbed the wound on his lower abdomen, but after entering this strange shipwreck, his blood flow began to return to normal, and the tearing pain came again.
He removed his trembling fingers and tried to heal the wound with his wand, but he found that there was a strange red light inside the wound that prevented the healing spell from working.
This was not a superficial wound. That powerful black magic had already damaged his internal organs. Constantine knew that it was impossible for him to be rescued in such a place.
Taking a deep breath, Constantine took out a small tin can from his chest with trembling hands. It was his vodka. He didn't like vodka, but at this time, he needed something to stimulate his spirit so that he could finish his work.
He had to pass down the final chain of secrets.
But just as he opened the cork, a chuckle came from the top of the building.
"Do you think that I will believe you just because you brought me here?"
Constantine suddenly looked up. In the wind and snow, in the gap at the top of the building, there was a man's head wearing a crown staring at him.
The head was very blurry in the wind and snow, but he could vaguely see that he had a pair of red eyes that were like searchlights in the wind and snow.
Clang!
The tin bottle fell to the ground and skidded far away.
Constantine's pale face turned even paler. He sat on the ground and kept retreating. He leaned against the stone wall and looked up.
He did not expect that the person who was chasing him was already waiting for him at the destination.
Thud.
The red-eyed man wearing a crown and a black suit jumped down from a height of more than ten meters. The soles of his shoes touched the frozen marble floor, making a crisp sound of metal colliding.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
He put his hands in his pockets and slowly walked toward Constantine. As he walked, he took off the crown on his head. It was a pale face, but his eyes were dazzlingly bright.
"You, you have found the place, what else do you want?" Constantine said hoarsely and tremblingly. His fingers touched his magic wand.
"Hehehe, the abandoned school site of Durmstrang, the last place where the forbidden spell was burned more than 1000 years ago. If I say that I have already looked for this place, would you believe me? "
The man in the suit casually walked closer. Constantine was about to grab the magic wand, but his wrist was stepped on by a leather boot.
There was a small silver bone claw at the tip of the boot.
The man in the suit kicked the magic wand out of his palm like he was kicking a piece of feces. He disdainfully and deftly kicked it away. The magic wand spun on the smooth ice for a long distance.
"Magic wand, a fool's weapon. Too inefficient. "
As he said that, the man in the suit slowly squatted down.
He smiled and said, "Tell me, where is the key?"
"Heh."
"Heh."
"Heh."
Constantine panted a few times.
Looking at the other party's red pupils, he showed a trace of a difficult smile. "Don't even think about it, you can't enter the library."
"Well, I see."
The man pondered for a moment. He suddenly stood up and put away the magic wand. "Oh right, I got a toy from Muggle, it's quite fun, do you want to try it?"
Constantine didn't know what the other party was talking about. Then, the man took out a silver pistol.
It was a revolver, a Colt Percussion Pistol, 9mm caliber.
The man in the suit seemed to be playing with this thing for the first time.
He turned the gun over and over in his hand, holding the muzzle to himself and looking into the barrel with one eye. It seemed that there was something fun in the muzzle.
"How do I dismantle it?"
"How do I dismantle it?"
Click.
The cartridge popped out, and the gun was dismantled.
"Ha!"
The man held the gun with a great sense of accomplishment.
"One, two, two, two, two something!"
He couldn't remember for a while, and then.
Bang!!
A loud sound echoed in the dilapidated building. The man played too much and the gun misfired.
"Oh wow!!"
The man holding the gun seemed to be shocked by the toy in his hand, and he shook twice before catching the gun.
After patting his chest for a long time, the man said with emotion, "Bullets, I remember now. It's amazing, it's a creation. If this continues, these Muggles will one day replace the wizards, don't you think so? "
"Shoot, you can't scare me." Constantine Romanov closed his eyes and said, "I'll say the same thing again, you should give up on entering the library."
The man in the suit's relaxed expression faded a little. He bent down, put the revolver under the man's chin, and said softly, "You don't have to worry about that.
"You don't have to worry about that. Tell me, where is the key?"
Constantine Romanov pursed his lips and didn't say anything.
"You're really stubborn."
The man in front of him smiled and said regretfully, "Goodbye."
He opened the safety and pulled the trigger bit by bit.
Constantine didn't move and gave up resistance.
Click.
The firing pin missed.
The revolver didn't react.
Constantine closed his eyes, and the expected scene of his head exploding didn't happen.
"Ha, I'm sorry." The man laughed.
He raised the silver revolver in his hand and looked at it.
"The gun is broken. It seems that God wants to give you another chance. "
So, he checked the gun. Then he put the muzzle to Constantine's head.
"Tell me, where is that thing?"
"You, you devil. Go to hell. "
"Go to hell? Yes. "
The man thought for a moment and decisively pointed the gun at his chin.
Click!
The firing pin missed again.
Oh, he raised his hand helplessly.
"God doesn't intend for me to die directly. It seems that I still have to run around for this damn secret."
With that, he pointed the gun at Constantine again.
"Sacrificing your precious life for the relics of a group of dead people. It's not worth it. Now tell me. Where is the key? "
Constantine closed his eyes and sneered. "Will you let me go if I tell you?"
"Hmm, of course, as long as you tell me, I won't kill you."
Constantine Ilyich Romanov nodded, opened his eyes, and said calmly, "I'll wait for you in hell."
The man in the suit froze for a moment. "What a pity."
He moved his finger down, and with a boom, blood spread out on the frozen marble floor.
The bullet, with inexplicable power, blasted a big hole in the other party's lower abdomen. Along with the hand that was covering his abdomen.
Constantine knelt down, holding his abdomen and touching the ground with his forehead, but his eyes were fixed on the other party.
The man in the suit shook his head. "Do you think I'll let you die directly? Sorry, enjoy the last minute of pain before your soul leaves your body. "
After that, he put away his weapon, put the crown on his head, kicked open the big iron door behind Constantine, and strode out into the wind and snow.
Constantine watched the ferocious and strange man leave from the corner of his eye. A large amount of blood mixed with an unknown liquid flowed out of his mouth.
His vision began to blur, and his thoughts began to become chaotic.
But the last thought was still firmly entrenched in his mind.
If he died, it didn't mean that the man would give up. On the contrary, he would never give up.
He had to do his best to protect that secret, the ancient secret that could shake the Sorcerer World.
Protect that secret.
There was still the last administrator. He had to remind him. Leave Europe quickly.
A trace of blue light appeared on his fingertip. He was stained with his own blood. Mixing it with his own magic, he drew a pentagram magic array on the ground and began to write with difficulty. He wanted to send out the last message.
Finally, he finished writing.
Just as he was about to activate the magic array.
A cold laugh came from behind him. "England, is it? I see."
Constantine turned around and screamed. He screamed completely. "You, you're not …"
He was incoherent. Using the last of his strength, he pounced on the magic secret letter on the ground. He punched the bloodstained words on the ground.
However, the man was faster. He kicked the Minister of Ministry of Magic of the Soviet Union away. He strode over and squatted down in front of the words.
French words were written messily on the ground.
[Be careful of thieves. Activate the guards. To England. Ho.]
Behind the words were blurry bloodstains. Nothing could be seen clearly.
The man turned his head again. The Minister of Ministry of Magic of the Soviet Union collapsed to the ground. His mouth was wide open, and his eyes were unfocused. He couldn't be more dead.
He tried his best, but in the end, it worked.
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