— — — — — —

Earlier, Voldemort had used Bellatrix as a distraction to quietly slip into the central courtyard.

But in the end, he still triggered the magic protecting the area. His supposedly flawless concealment was no longer flawless. The magical disturbance it caused was quickly noticed by the curse-breakers, who picked up on the traces almost immediately. That was why they had managed to break through with such perfect timing.

The people gathered there at the time were a complicated mix.

Like Gringotts Wizarding Bank, they held enormous influence in Africa, even going so far as to seize part of the Ministry of Magic’s authority.

But even so, they weren’t powerful enough to dominate the second-largest continent. And there was no way they would dare monopolize a massive ruin like this on their own—doing so would simply draw everyone’s hostility.

So the site wasn’t occupied by Gringotts curse-breakers alone. They had also hired mercenaries from the Astra Abyssum Guild as guards, along with a number of independent rogue wizards hoping to strike it rich.

Of course, the so-called rogue wizards allowed inside were no ordinary people either. At the very least, they were troublesome enough that Gringotts preferred not to provoke them.

Now this entire crowd stood in the courtyard facing Andros, all sharing the exact same thought.

Who the fuck is this guy?

Since when was there someone this arrogant in the world?

"Ahem... This gentleman," an elderly goblin stepped forward, anger simmering beneath his voice though he still tried to remain restrained, "Are you attempting to seize this place by force? If you wish to join the distribution, you are welcome to participate, but you must follow the rules we just established. Highest bidder wins."

"Rules?" Andros sneered with open contempt. "A lowly race like yours thinks it has the right to speak to me about rules? What are you supposed to be?"

That single sentence nearly made the old goblin and the Gringotts goblins behind him explode from rage, but Andros showed no sign of stopping. His gaze swept over the human wizards nearby, his tone equally disdainful.

"A bunch of wizards being ordered around by goblins. You people have no pride at all. I guess some people just love being slaves."

This wasn’t entirely deliberate provocation. Part of it was simply how Andros truly thought.

In his era, goblins had existed as well, along with many magical races that had long since vanished into history. But weak races like goblins had never dared act this arrogantly, much less control the economic lifeline of wizards. To him, it was nothing short of a disgrace.

Especially here in Africa, where goblins could even be considered the strongest force. He had fought many African wizards in the past, and there was nothing in their descendants that resembled what he was seeing now—just shameful decline.

"Goblins... you want to talk about rules? Fine."

Phantom images of eagle-beasts formed over both of Andros’s fists, condensed entirely from raw magic power.

"My fists are the rules. If any of you can beat them, then we, the Sun-Chasers, will give up everything here."

"ATTACK!" The old goblin reacted decisively. The moment he sensed Andros intended violence, he immediately shouted for his people to strike first.

The curse-breakers had already been furious from the insults anyway. Without hesitation, they began firing spells.

Weren’t they just working for a living? Trying to support their families? Did he really have to insult them like that?

The Astra Abyssum members hired for the job were equally enraged. A few hot-headed fighters joined in immediately. For a moment, streams of magic lit up the sky like a cascading rainbow waterfall crashing down toward Andros.

But before Andros’s iron fists, all of it was meaningless.

His right fist shot forward.

The eagle-headed phantom opened its beak in a silent roar, and massive amounts of magic transformed into razor-sharp wind blades that screamed through the air.

His left fist rose next.

Silver light condensed into a shield, and amid a rapid series of metallic clangs, every incoming spell was knocked away.

More than ten curse-breakers. Over a dozen mercenaries from Astra Abyssum. And the rogue wizards attempting sneak attacks from the shadows.

Any one of them would count as an elite wizard outside.

Yet at this moment, all of them felt the same crushing sense of helplessness.

Just look at that shield. Thick as hell.

And those wind blades? Massive.

Their spells were either blocked outright or shredded apart by the howling blades. Before they could even launch a hurried second wave of attacks, the battlefield had already fallen into chaos. Blood sprayed from torn palms, and cries of pain rang out one after another.

When it came to crushing weaker opponents, Andros was experienced. And he had no intention of killing anyone. This was just gathering hatred for the Sun-Chasers.

...

Andros shook his head. Then with a casual wave of his hand, chunks of broken stone rose from the ground, trapping the wizards in narrow spaces before pinning them firmly against the walls.

If Malfoy had been there, he probably would’ve burst into tears on the spot, trembling from PTSD. Back then... Tom had hung him up and beaten him exactly the same way.

Once everyone had been subdued, Andros casually gathered up the secret-art pottery fragments that had been brought out earlier and tucked them back into his robes.

"Returning them to their rightful owner."

Then he swept a cold gaze across the crowd and issued his warning.

"Remember this well. Anything the Sun-Chasers want, you either hand it over obediently... or get the hell out of the way. Next time, you won’t be this lucky."

After saying that, Andros strode toward the hidden mechanism leading to the temple core, making a show of entering the inner sanctum to claim the final treasure.

In reality, he had only taken six portions of the secret arts. The remaining six had been left behind as compensation for everyone’s medical bills.

Three hours later, the magic attached to the stones finally faded, and the trapped crowd crashed back onto the ground.

The goblins instantly broke down into miserable wails, feeling as though their hearts had been ripped away.

"Sun-Chasers! Sun-Chasers! I’m putting out a bounty! I’ll capture this Sun-Chasers and throw him into the Gringotts dungeon for life!"

"Augustus, are you an idiot?!" A red-haired young man finally snapped and cursed him out. It was none other than Bill Weasley.

"Sun-Chasers isn’t that man’s name! He was talking about his side! It’s obviously an organization."

"An organization?"

Not just the old goblin, but many of the surrounding wizards finally realized the truth.

So "Sun-Chasers" wasn’t the name of that terrifying man after all.

Fortunately for Andros, he had already left. Otherwise, hearing this conversation probably would’ve made cold sweat pour down his back.

He had gone through all the trouble of putting on an intimidating act and even tried redirecting the blame, only for the people he manipulated not to understand his identity at all.

Wouldn’t that mean the whole performance was for nothing?

Thank the Lord, there was still someone with a brain in the room.

...

..

Meanwhile, after making his escape, Andros didn’t stay idle.

Tom had also given him a list containing information on several pure-blood families. Every single one of them possessed treasures he wanted but they refused to sell.

After all, he was turning fifteen in a few months. Buying himself a birthday present wasn’t too much to ask, right?

Also, this time there won’t be much bullying—just beat them down, buy the treasures, and of course, pin the blame on the Sun-Chasers.

.

.

.