nownovels Chapter 566-575: The Prelude to the Deep Space Descent 4
Chapter 566-575: The Prelude to the Deep Space Descent 4
Chapter 566-575: The Prelude to the Deep Space Descent 4
The next few hours.
The study has been transformed into a bustling alchemy workshop.
Nicolas Flamel rummaged through every nook and cranny, unearthing countless strange tools and materials—some Ian recognized, others he'd never seen before. Dumbledore and Grindelwald were also busy, running around at Nico's beck and call, handing him this and fetching that.
"Albus! Bring me that bottle of dragon blood—not that one, but the one on the left, yes, that one!"
"Mr. Grindelwald, I've heard you have some knowledge of spatial magic? Come and take a look at the meshing of this gear. Its spatial coordinates seem to be off by 0.3 milliseconds. Can you correct it?"
"Perenel! Darling, we need more Phoenix Flames, the more the better!"
Ian watched from the side, a smile involuntarily creeping onto his face. This alchemy master, who had lived for over six hundred years, was like a child who had found a new toy, excitedly waving his arms and legs. Yet his hands remained as steady as the most precise instruments, each movement accurate to the millimeter.
"This rune—" Nico pointed to an extremely complex rune engraved on the core component of the time machine, "Do you see the problem?"
Ian leaned closer, examined it carefully for a moment, and then nodded: "It's worn. The lines at the edges aren't clear enough, causing poor magic transmission."
"Yes!" Nico nodded in satisfaction. "And you see, the original design of this rune used the Titan rune system, which is different from the one we use now. To repair it, we can't simply copy it; we have to—"
He hesitated for a moment, then took a carving knife as thin as a hair from the pile of tools and handed it to Ian: "You give it a try."
Ian paused for a moment, took the carving knife, but didn't start carving immediately. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let his consciousness sink into the runes.
A few seconds later, he opened his eyes, and the carving knife fell.
His hands were as steady as a rock, each cut precise to the extreme. Under his control, the carving knife moved across the runes like a living thing, repairing the worn lines little by little, and clarifying the blurred outlines bit by bit.
Nico watched from the side, his expression growing increasingly interesting.
It wasn't surprise, but rather—familiarity.
The technique, the rhythm, the unique understanding of runes—every detail felt incredibly familiar to him.
That's his technique.
That was his unique alchemical technique, created by Nicolas Flamel.
Ian finished the last stroke, put down his carving knife, and let out a long sigh. He looked up and saw Nicole's complex gaze, and paused slightly, "What's wrong?"
Nico was silent for a few seconds, then slowly spoke, his voice hoarse and low: "Child, who taught you alchemy?"
Ian paused for a moment, then understood. He looked down at the newly repaired rune, remained silent for a moment, and then said softly, "An old man who has lived for over six hundred years."
Nico's eyes widened slightly.
"He liked to drink a cup of hot tea in the morning and then sit in his study studying ancient books. He liked to take walks with his wife in the evening and look at the stars. He liked to—" Ian paused, a slight smile playing on his lips, "to brag to people about how many strange and wonderful things he had seen."
Nico's hands trembled slightly.
"He told me that the essence of alchemy is not turning lead into gold, nor is it immortality, but rather—" Ian looked up at Nico, a warm light shining in his deep eyes, "...understanding the essence of the world."
Nico's lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but he found that he couldn't make a sound.
He certainly understood what this meant.
The child before me, this "raven" from the future, the embodiment of destiny—his alchemy was taught to him by himself.
In some future timeline, I took this child in as my student.
Nicolas Flamel, who lived for over six hundred years, taught very few students. Each one was a carefully selected successor, whom he regarded as his own son. And this one before him—
Nico suddenly smiled. The smile on his aged face was as radiant as the warm spring sun, so dazzling that it was impossible to look away.
"Excellent, excellent!" His voice was filled with barely suppressed pride. "Even ravens are coming to me to learn alchemy! I, Nicolas Flamel, have lived a truly fulfilling life!"
Dumbledore watched from the side, a smile involuntarily creeping onto his lips. He knew his old friend's character; it was rare for something to make Nico so proud.
Grindelwald looked at Ian thoughtfully, a complex light flickering in his heterochromatic eyes. Who exactly was this child? Even Nicolas Flamel had become his teacher—
Perenel peeked out from the kitchen and, seeing her husband's smug expression, couldn't help but laugh: "Looking smug again?"
Nico laughed heartily and waved his hand, "That's right! Honey, you don't know, this kid is my apprentice! My future apprentice! Raven is my apprentice!"
Perenel paused for a moment, then smiled. She looked at Ian, her eyes full of kindness: "Child, come here and let me see you."
Ian walked up to her. Perenel studied his face carefully, then gently patted his head. "You've lost some weight. I'll cook you something delicious once this machine is fixed."
Ian paused for a moment, then smiled. The smile on his youthful face was exceptionally warm and sincere: "Thank you, Madam."
The words "teacher's wife" made Perenel smile even more brightly.
The repair work proceeded exceptionally smoothly over the next few hours.
With Nicole's help, the problems that had previously stumped Ian were solved one by one. Dumbledore and Grindelwald also used their expertise—Dumbledore's profound understanding of magical runes and Grindelwald's superb skills in spatial magic—to become indispensable parts of the restoration work.
When the last gear was installed, when the last rune was activated, when the time machine finally emitted a steady...
-
When the soft, silvery-white light shines—
Everyone stopped what they were doing and watched it silently.
The light shone with an air of mystery and beauty in the dim lamplight of the study. The gears turned slowly, emitting a rhythmic ticking sound like that of an ancient clock. Each tick seemed to beat the pulse of time itself.
"It's fixed," Ian said softly, his voice tinged with barely suppressed excitement.
Nico looked at him, his eyes filled with satisfaction and pride. He patted Ian on the shoulder, saying nothing, but the gesture itself was enough.
Dumbledore stepped forward and examined the time machine closely. His gaze was deep and complex, as if he were looking at something beyond comprehension: "This is—something that can travel through time?"
Ian nodded. "Now you can."
Grindelwald walked over, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming with curiosity: "How do you use it?"
Ian didn't answer immediately. Instead, he looked at the time machine, remained silent for a few seconds, then looked up at the three of them: "You guys—want to give it a try?"
Dumbledore paused for a moment, then shook his head. "No, son. You brought this. Its first use should be your decision."
Grindelwald nodded. "Besides, we have more important things to do. Voldemort is still waiting outside."
Ian was silent for a few seconds, then nodded: "You're right."
He reached out and gently touched the time machine. The light instantly brightened, enveloping him completely. A few seconds later, the light subsided, and the time machine returned to his palm, reverting to its original size.
He carefully put the time machine away, then turned to Nico: "Mr. Nico, thank you. Without you, I might never have been able to fix it."
Nico waved his hand, a smug smile on his face: "Don't mention it, kid. You're my apprentice—my future apprentice—so you're still my apprentice! Helping your own apprentice is only natural!"
He paused, then suddenly remembered something and asked, "By the way, what do you need this for? Time travel? To the future? Or—"
He looked at Ian, then at Dumbledore and Grindelwald, his eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and concern: "Children, what do you want to do with the time machine?"
These words were spoken.
Neither Grindelwald nor Dumbledore knew how to answer.
For the sake of the plan.
They cannot disclose information.
In this regard.
Ian was silent for a few seconds. His gaze swept over Dumbledore, over Grindelwald, and finally landed on Nico's wrinkled but still energetic face.
Voldemort's plans, the traps of the bait, the impending final battle—all of these required absolute secrecy. Even for Nicolas Flamel, the less he knew, the safer he was.
Then he smiled slightly, a smile that seemed particularly mysterious on his youthful face: "Go and witness history."
Nico raised an eyebrow slightly: "Witness history?"
Ian nodded, offering no further explanation. He turned to Dumbledore and Grindelwald, a resolute glint in his deep eyes: "Ready?"
Dumbledore and Grindelwald exchanged a glance, then nodded simultaneously.
"Let's go then."
Ian took the newly repaired time machine from his pocket. The intricate device slowly rotated in his palm, its silvery-white light flowing like liquid moonlight in the dimly lit study. The ticking of the gears grew faster and more frequent, eventually merging into a continuous hum.
"Stand closer," Ian said.
Dumbledore and Grindelwald walked to his side as instructed, the three of them almost touching. Ian looked up at the two old men—one was the headmaster of Hogwarts, the greatest white wizard in the wizarding world; the other was the Dark Lord who had once stirred up storms in Europe, a figure feared throughout the entire wizarding world. At this moment, their eyes both shone with the same light—expectation.
"Hold on tight," Ian said.
Dumbledore gently placed his hand on Ian's shoulder. Grindelwald hesitated for a second, then reached out and placed his hand on Ian's other shoulder as well.
The scene was somewhat comical—a twelve-year-old child being surrounded by two centenarians, as if he were some important figure at the center. But at that moment, no one found it funny.
Ian took a deep breath and channeled his magic into the time machine.
The silvery-white light surged instantly, completely engulfing the three of them!
In the light, everything became blurred. Time lost its meaning, space lost its coordinates, and only endless, flowing light, like a river, roared past them. Dumbledore felt his body being stretched, compressed, twisted, and then reformed. Grindelwald's feelings were more complex—he already possessed the ability to foresee time, but at this moment, that feeling was stronger and more real than ever before.
Ian's voice rang in their ears, piercing through the endless torrent of time: "Don't resist, relax. Let the time machine take us where we're meant to be."
I don't know how much time passed—maybe a moment, maybe ten thousand years—the light suddenly vanished.
A solid feel came from beneath my feet.
The three of them opened their eyes.
They stood on a vast grassland.
The sky was a pure, almost transparent blue, clearer than any sky they had ever seen. The sun was larger than they were used to, its rays more intense, yet not blinding. The air was filled with an unfamiliar fragrance, a blend of the scents of grass and...
The scent of wildflowers and a certain ancient aroma—a pure, natural scent untouched by human civilization.
In the distance, a mountain range rose on the horizon, its peaks soaring into the clouds and capped with snow. At its foot lay an endless primeval forest, the trees incredibly tall—even the shortest were at least ten times the height of the largest ancient trees in the world they knew.
Dumbledore took a deep breath, sensing the magical fluctuations around him. His pupils contracted slightly: "The magical concentration here—is at least ten times that of our time."
Grindelwald nodded, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming with excitement: "This is the world ten thousand years ago? No wonder legends could be born in that era—it would be strange if they didn't become legends in such an environment."
Ian took the time machine from his pocket, confirmed it was intact, and carefully put it away. He turned to the two old men, a slightly upturned smile playing on his lips—a smile that seemed completely out of character for his age, brimming with a sense of challenge: "Gentlemen, are you ready to slay the dragon?"
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow slightly: "Dragon slaying?"
A knowing glint flashed in Grindelwald's eyes: "You mean—ancient dragons?"
Ian nodded: "The best way to become a legend is to defeat a legendary being. And ten thousand years ago, the most powerful legendary being on this continent was the ancient dragon."
He paused, then pointed to the primeval forest in the distance: "Deep within that forest live ancient dragons, larger and more powerful than any dragon you will ever see. Their power is enough to tear mountains apart, to incinerate the sky, and to turn any wizard who dares to challenge them to ashes."
He looked at the two of them, a serious glint in his deep eyes: "Are you afraid?"
Dumbledore smiled. The smile, on his aged face, seemed exceptionally gentle and composed: "Afraid? No, child. I was just thinking—"
'
He looked at Grindelwald, a mischievous glint in his azure eyes: "Gellert, how about we see who takes one down first?"
Grindelwald paused for a moment, then laughed. His laughter was deep and provocative, carrying the arrogance of the former Dark Lord: "Albus, you're humiliating yourself."
Ian looked at them, his smile deepening. He knew that beneath the calm exteriors of these two old men lay a burning fighting spirit.
"Let's go then."
Ian was preparing to film the two old men looking disheveled.
I was secretly delighted.
They headed towards the forest first.