Harry Potter: Journey to Godhood

Medivh had now fully recovered. Lothar's next strike clashed against a shimmering blue energy shield. Sparks flew from the golden blade, but it failed to penetrate Medivh's defenses. 

Lothar tried slashing upwards, stabbing directly, cutting horizontally, and cleaving with all his might, yet every attempt was thwarted by the unyielding shield.

A savage thunderbolt roared down, striking the energy shield with force. Magic-infused lightning seemed to be more effective, but Medivh's magical power far surpassed that of his mother.

With a guttural roar, Medivh raised a claw-like hand. Boundless mana surged and danced in his palm.

The obsidian shackles imprisoning his legs shattered instantly. The wild lightning suddenly reversed course, forcing Aegwynn to shift her focus entirely to defense. 

Meanwhile, a shriek tore through the air as Lothar's clothes burst into flames, engulfing him in a fiery inferno.

Medivh gazed triumphantly at his handiwork before casually flinging Lothar's scorched body aside like discarded trash.

From the shadows, a green silhouette suddenly darted toward Medivh from the side—a half-orc rogue exploiting the brief moment Medivh was distracted.

In the next instant, Garona was sent flying backward with equal force. Medivh had clearly anticipated her ambush. 

His immense magical strength left her sprawled on the ground, covered in soot and dust.

"Useless! You feeble mortals will never defeat the Lord of Demons." 

The Astral Mage—or rather, the former Astral Mage—laughed thunderously. It was a deep, resonant laugh, one Aegwynn had heard before.

On the icy plains of the northern wastelands, during their last battle.

"Sargeras…" Aegwynn spat the name with venom.

Medivh's shadow shifted, rising and consuming him entirely. His form transformed into one of shadow and flame. 

His beard and hair ignited into blazing fire, revealing a pair of ebony horns protruding from his brow.

Seeing her mortal enemy's visage consume her son, Aegwynn's fury boiled over. 

When Medivh still bore his human form, she could restrain herself, but now, faced with Sargeras' horrifying transformation, she snapped.

She raised her hands and chanted a spell. Her voice, twisted by her overwhelming rage, sounded inhuman. 

A radiant beam of prismatic energy shot forward, striking Sargeras square in the chest.

The blow staggered him back a step, then another. But with a single hand, Sargeras grasped the energy beam. 

The acrid stench of burning flesh filled the room as smoke curled from his hand. 

With a bellow, he reversed the spell, hurling it back at Aegwynn, sending her crashing into the far wall. Alaric rushed to catch her.

"You're too reckless," Alaric said. "We should've waited for them. Stalled for time until they arrived."

Aegwynn nodded weakly, clutching her chest. The counterattack had left her gravely injured.

Sargeras sneered. "Futile… No one can save you. Death is your destiny!"

Before he could continue his taunt, a deafening crash interrupted him. Above them, the ceiling trembled violently, then collapsed. Everyone scrambled to avoid the falling debris.

A fierce wind swept through the chamber, scattering the dust and rubble. Even Sargeras was forced to shield himself from the sudden storm.

From above descended a massive golden dragon, its broad feathered wings stirring the air with powerful strokes. Its enormous body filled a third of the hall.

The dragon landed gracefully, its form shrinking rapidly. By the time it touched the ground, it had transformed into a high elf woman draped in robes of gold and white, exuding regal authority.

"You said no one could save them? How about me?" she declared haughtily.

Her words carried an undeniable arrogance, but in the face of a fallen titan, they felt perfectly justified.

"Tyranastrasz?! What are you doing here?" Sargeras growled, visibly unsettled.

"If you can stoop to hiding in the body of a mortal, why shouldn't I be here?" Tyranastrasz replied with a derisive eye roll, her tone mocking.

Her words cut deep. The mighty Lord of Demons, the Dark Titan who had destroyed countless worlds, was now forced to infiltrate a single world by inhabiting a mortal vessel. It was an undeniable humiliation.

To Tyranastrasz, Sargeras seemed less a lord of destruction and more a rat skulking in the shadows.

His fury ignited.

"I've been waiting for the chance to destroy you, Guardian Dragon," Sargeras snarled. "You and your kind are the only obstacle to my Burning Legion's conquest. 

But since you've come to me, I'll start with you. I'll obliterate each of you, one by one, and resurrect your remains to raze the lands you once swore to protect. It will be… poetic."

Before his vile proclamation could conclude, the floor erupted beneath them. The obsidian ground cracked and splintered as molten lava surged forth like a fountain.

Then, from the seething magma emerged another colossal figure—a red dragon nearly as large as the golden one. 

Lava cascaded from her form, revealing crimson scales that radiated intense heat. Her mere presence pulsed with vibrant life energy.

As the lava subsided, ripples spread through the void. A third dragon appeared, gliding through the air as if from nowhere. 

This green dragon, smaller than her counterparts yet still imposing, landed softly. Her eyes remained closed, an enigmatic calm radiating from her.

Like the golden dragon, the red and green dragons transformed. The red dragon took on the appearance of a high elf, while the green dragon's features mirrored the night elves'.

"I heard you wanted to find us one by one?" the red dragon murmured with a faint smile.

"There's no need to bother with that," the green dragon added coolly. "We've come to you instead, Lord of Demons."

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