Harry Potter: BE a GOD

Before the launch of the three interstellar missiles, Arkaim.

Sofia suddenly woke from a dream, momentarily unsure of her whereabouts.

It was dawn outside. She sat on the bed for a while, then stood up.

"It's time to decide," she said to herself.

Leaving the sleeping chamber, Lady Yaga was waiting for her. "The Guardian Shaman has come. He says it's urgent and must see you."

She met Murphy in the reception room, his expression grave. Upon seeing her, he said, "There's no time to go into detail. My predictions were slightly off. Arkaim will be struck in about ten hours. Sofia, did you anticipate this?"

"Ten hours from now?" Sofia looked at Murphy, her expression revealing realization. "Are you from that time? What happened?"

"The gods attacked Arkaim," Murphy stated succinctly. "And you stopped them, in a way I don't understand, but at a cost..."

He sighed, "But that's already happened, observed and collapsed events I can't prevent. I'm here to complete the puzzle, to prevent things from worsening."

"What do you want me to do?" Sofia asked.

"First, I need to connect the Holy Wall and Arkaim's magic network. The Holy Wall's defense is strong but not enduring enough. It must draw power from the entire magic network to withstand that strike."

"Secondly, I need to understand something," Murphy looked at the empress, "The sleeping sickness, it's not a result of vampire aftermath, right?"

Sofia shook her head. "No."

"So, is Milian truly being resurrected through you? Is the sleeping sickness because her memories are taking over you?"

Sofia shook her head again. "No, I'm the one taking over her."

Murphy frowned. "What exactly did you and Milian do? How can you defeat a god?"

Sofia looked at him. "The source of this power is actually your arrangement, but you haven't met her yet. When the time comes, you'll understand everything."

"And you can't tell me now because you're worried it will disrupt my actions, thus preventing the destined fate from occurring?" Murphy asked.

The empress shook her head. "It's just that I also don't know what you might do. The ultimate secret is known only to you."

"So, we're in a predetermined history, moving along a set trajectory," Murphy said.

"Observed facts will happen, but the future that hasn't occurred still has infinite possibilities. The universe's past is deterministic, but its future is a quantum field," the empress smiled. "You told me this."

"I don't remember telling you that," Murphy frowned, then understood. "The future me, right?"

He stood up, sighed, "I know it's impossible, because I've already seen the outcome. But I still want to tell you, if you feel it's too much, you don't have to bear that so-called fate."

However, the empress smiled. "Mr. Murphy, the one bearing the heaviest fate is you."

After Murphy left, the moment the reception room door closed, Sofia suddenly felt a profound sense of loss.

Ten hours.

Perhaps, this was her last time.

She had so much to say, so many things undone, and she hadn't even heard that response.

But now, he had too much to do.

An entire world needed his salvation; his energies need not be wasted on such trifles.

As she thought this, the door suddenly opened again.

...

After the three missiles entered lunar orbit, the ground control room lost signal.

In the final stages of the battle, intense resistance was expected, whether due to the frequent use of illusionary transposition by the missiles or the gods' defensive measures, leading to loss of signal.

This was expected; all that remained was to wait.

Judging the outcome was simple. Monitor for any minor magical fluctuations with the lunar magic radar. If the operation succeeded, the magical fluctuations from the far side of the moon, if not immediately erased, would at least decrease significantly.

Murphy was restless. Although this was the strongest offensive measure he could devise, he remained uneasy, pondering what might have been overlooked. Then, a report came through the mental network.

The report was from the Magic Research Institute. Jim Best sent him a message, "Director, the magic barrier will activate in ten seconds, as per your instructions."

Hmm?

Murphy was puzzled. When did I issue such instructions?

And what is the magic barrier?

Before he could clear his confusion, another message from the Ministry of Magic arrived, Bartemius Crouch showed him a letter, "A missive from Arkaim, they claim you, as the Empress's fiancé, automatically become the first in line for the Arkaim throne. Is this true?"

Then, a message from the Siberian wilderness silenced him.

Someone had sent a launch command to the "Binary Tree" supercomputer with the highest administrative authority, drawing tens of thousands of unmanned weapons to a single location for assembly.

Murphy frowned, his mind racing with possibilities. He then looked at the radar signal on the big screen.

Suddenly, a screen showed that the electronic signal radar received strong electromagnetic pulses, twice, indicating at least two missiles had exploded.

But in the magic signal detection, there was no significant fluctuation. In fact, the detected magical fluctuations had increased by an order of magnitude.

The operation had failed.

...

In space, the red spear, like a shooting star, headed towards Earth. As it entered the atmosphere, it split into three, drawing three bright trails across the sky like falling meteorites, breaking through the clouds and striking down in three different locations.

The central spear, with the tip transformed, carried an immense force, crossing thousands of kilometers in an instant, targeting the South Ural region, directly aiming for the Soviet wizarding city of Arkaim.

As the spear was about to land in the city, a barrier suddenly manifested.

"Bang!" The ground trembled, the shockwave blowing away the soil and rocks outside the barrier, creating a dust cloud tens of meters high.

However, the spear remained firmly against the barrier, sparks flying but unable to pierce through for a moment.

Another spear, transforming midsection and veering off by thousands of kilometers, targeted London.

But as the spear fell, a similar barrier rose, blocking its descent.

The last spear fell towards the Central Siberian Plateau.

Hundreds of kilometers west of Lake Baikal, near the Tunguska River, a huge crater existed.

As the spear descended, the crater erupted with soil and stones, streams of blood weaving into a humanoid form. The rocks clung to it, twisted by the bloodlines into muscles and bones. In just a few moments, a nearly ten-meter-tall giant, as if forged from steel, appeared in the center of the crater.

He leaped up, catching the falling spear in his hand, then slammed it back into the ground. Electrical sparks from the spear entered the giant's body, gradually covering him with lightning, his appearance shifting from stone to an imposing old man with long hair and a beard.

The old man stood, lightning dancing in his single eye. He caressed the spear in his hand, runes like those of the Norse flickering and branding onto the spear's shaft.

"Gungnir."

The Spear of Eternity.

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