Harry Potter: I am the Legend

In the dark tunnel, Anker held a torch as he cautiously descended. He kept one hand on the wall, moving with extreme care, terrified that one wrong step might send him plunging into an endless abyss.

At first, he tried counting the steps he took, but he quickly abandoned the idea. No matter how far he walked, the stairs seemed never-ending, as though they led to the other side of the earth.

Time passed indeterminately, and the torch in his hand began to flicker, its fuel nearly spent. The surrounding darkness loomed closer, an oppressive void filled with primal fear and the unknown.

Anker stopped, overwhelmed by a sensation that reminded him of his childhood—a memory of standing on a high mountain, legs trembling as he looked up.

He glanced back.

The entrance was no longer visible.

Gritting his teeth, he began stepping backward, one careful step at a time.

But after only two steps, he froze again.

His lips twitched in frustration, and a surge of unwillingness and shame exploded within him, clouding his thoughts.

Retreat?

Back to that cavern?

"You think this will scare me?"

The mocking gaze of a gray-haired boy flashed in his mind, his voice echoing in the tunnel like a serpent's hiss. With a sneer, Anker repeated aloud, "You think this will scare me?"

Raising his head, he suddenly roared, "Do you think this will scare me? Do you think I'm some mud-blooded Aldo? My father is the greatest capitalist in Germany, and my grandfather was Europe's most notorious slave trader. I, Anker von Kleist, have killed countless people over the last thirty years. The bodies of my enemies could dam the Rhine! You think mere darkness can terrify me? Impossible! I am the darkness!"

With a fierce exhale, he blew out the torch, smashing the stick against the stairs. The surroundings plunged into an abyss of pitch-black.

Undeterred, he strode forward boldly.

Initially, the lack of vision caused him to stumble and fall several times. But each time, he climbed back up, his anger fueling his descent.

As he walked, he sneered, muttering to himself, "Show me what you've got. Come on! Let me see your best!"

For ten minutes.

Twenty.

Thirty.

An hour.

Two hours.

Three hours.

Ten.

Fifteen.

Perhaps even longer.

The darkness offered no response.

Gradually, his defiance began to wane.

His steps remained firm, but his back was drenched in cold sweat.

He had no idea how far he had gone—perhaps to the Mohorovičić discontinuity, the Gutenberg boundary, or even through the mantle into the Earth's core.

Finally, exhaustion overcame him. Seething with frustration, he muttered, "Fine. You win this round. Let me rest a bit, and we'll see who endures longer—you or me!"

With that, he lay down on the cold, uneven stairs. Closing his eyes, he surrendered to the black void. The ground was hard and frigid, yet despite it, he somehow fell asleep.

Or perhaps, he awakened to another layer of darkness.

When he opened his eyes, the unchanging corridor greeted him once more. Rest and sleep had been mere illusions.

Panic gripped him completely.

The brief compromise and retreat had shattered his momentum. After a day of relentless determination, he finally acknowledged the possibility that this might truly be a bottomless abyss. Turning, he began climbing back up.

But the terrifying realization struck him—gravity no longer felt perceptible. Climbing upward felt no different than descending. With no reference points in the suffocating darkness, he had no idea whether he was ascending or plunging further downward.

The oppressive darkness gnawed at his nerves. Countless emotions surged and ebbed within him—regret for entering this abyss, hatred for the deal he made with Bach, disdain for Aldo's fear of insects, and fury at the cursed mission target, Lemay.

Everything about this tunnel, this dreamlike nightmare, infuriated him. The humiliation of being toyed with so thoroughly fueled his hatred. If he ever escaped, if he found the source of this nightmare, he swore to destroy it—no matter what it was. He prayed to any deity that would listen, willing to sacrifice his soul to escape this torment.

Then, a faint light appeared ahead.

Impossible!

Anker surged forward like a desert wanderer spotting an oasis. The light grew brighter and brighter.

His heart pounded wildly.

What would it be?

Would it be the real world, the source of the dream, or, at the very least, the cavern he had started in?

Reaching the light, he found himself in a hemispherical chamber.

The room was bizarrely furnished, piled with bones.

In the center stood a Whist card table, covered in colorful chips. Around the table sat four animals playing cards—a fox, a bear, an eagle, and a creamy-white dove.

"Oh, hi there!"

The fox, seated directly across from him, greeted him politely.

The other three animals turned to look at him simultaneously.

Faced with the sight of these animals with beastly heads, Anker's heart pounded uncontrollably. Chaos and disbelief took over.

Sensing his fear, Anker clenched his fists tightly in secret. He was a sorcerer. Others could fear him, but he had no reason to fear any monstrosity.

"You've come at the perfect time," said the fox. "I'm about to lose. Can you take over and win for me?"

Anker stared at the fox's smiling face, swallowing hard. A thousand questions churned in his mind, but not a single one escaped his lips.

Under the fox's unwavering gaze, his legs moved involuntarily toward the table. He picked up the cards the fox had set down.

"These cards are terrible," Anker muttered. "I can't possibly win."

"I believe in you," the fox replied.

The fox placed its furry paw on his shoulder.

"Once you've seen the cards, you have to play," said the eagle.

The bear and the rabbit stared at him intently.

Anker shivered slightly but picked up the lousy hand of cards and began playing.

In the first round, he racked his brain in a panic, meticulously cautious with every move, but ultimately, he lost.

The bear roared with laughter, and the eagle let out a piercing cry, extending its sharp talons from beneath the table to grab a heap of chips from the pile in front of the fox and drag them to its own side.

Anker looked at the fox with a face ashen with despair.

The fox spread its hands, smiled wryly, and said, "There's still a bit of chips left. Whether we can turn the tables now depends on you."

With that, the four animals resumed shuffling the cards. The clattering of cards being dealt filled the air as one after another landed before Anker. He had no idea what was going on.

When the dealing finished, the fox pushed the cards toward him with its furry paw. "This hand is better."

"What are you creatures?" he asked, his teeth chattering.

"We're gamblers," said the fox. "Come on, help me win this game. You must have played cards often; think of it as entertainment."

Entertainment? Anker thought about his younger days, when he frequently played cards in the most exclusive clubs among high society, smoking cigars and relaxing.

But here? In this place? How could he possibly relax or find any joy?

"I'll play the diamond," the bear said.

The second round began.

The cards were decent this time, and with his full concentration, Anker managed to narrowly win a round for the fox. However, the chips in front of the fox didn't increase.

"Best of five," the fox declared.

"Another round?" Anker asked, frustration evident. "What is this place? How do I leave?"

"Play this round first. Look at all these wonderful treasures—don't you want to win them?" The fox gestured at the chips on the table. "With these, you can do whatever you want."

"Even leave this place?"

"If that's what you wish." The fox's smiling words were drowned out by the sound of shuffling cards. The three animals prepared another game, placing the shuffled cards in front of him.

Could he really leave by winning?

In the next round, Anker's nerves were tightly strung as he poured his entire focus into the game.

The cards this time were even better than before, and he won again.

The bear pounded the table in frustration, the eagle angrily threw its cards, and the pigeon cooed incessantly.

The successive victories brought a strange sense of exhilaration to Anker. The thrill of winning under immense pressure was unlike the dull victories he had experienced before. It felt akin to walking a tightrope—a peculiar joy that sent shivers down his spine, reminiscent of the excitement of a first kiss at thirteen.

The fox had been right. Not only had he found enjoyment, but he also wanted to play more.

In the third round, he was in excellent form and won again.

The fox clapped its paws with delight. "See? I told you you could win, didn't I?" It grabbed a few chips from the other animals' piles and added them to its own.

"What are these chips?" Anker asked the fox curiously, feeling a rare sense of ease.

"These are time. The winner gets to take the loser's time. Look." The fox placed the chips in front of him. Examining them closely, Anker saw that each chip, a lustrous golden hue, had an image of a woman in the center. These women moved seductively, looking lifelike.

"Amazing, aren't they?" the fox asked. "With time, you can do anything you desire."

"Even leave this place?"

"Of course," the fox said with a grin.

"That's incredible," Anker muttered sincerely. He reached out to touch the chips, and when his finger brushed against the image of one of the women, she covered her chest and giggled shyly.

"Truly incredible," he repeated, laughing. "By the way, what happens if someone runs out of chips?"

"You can eat the players who lose all their chips."

The fox retracted its paw, smiling as it gestured toward the pile of bones in the room. "See? There used to be many players here, but now it's just us. If you eat enough players, you can gain endless time."

"Endless time?"

"Yes, unique and eternal immortality," the fox replied.

"That's fantastic." Anker looked at the remaining chips in front of the other animals and licked his lips. "I'm going to win."

He completely forgot his original purpose for being here, throwing himself wholeheartedly into the game. One round, two rounds, three rounds. The games were no longer as easy as the first two; winning became harder.

But it was this cycle of wins and losses that thrilled him. He kept playing, honing his card skills, and growing stronger. Time passed, and the pile of chips in front of him grew larger.

After an excruciatingly long game, the bear was the first to lose all its chips. It let out a wail and bolted away from the table.

The bear's cry triggered something primal within Anker. He leaped over the table like a beast, pinning the bear to the ground and sinking his teeth into its neck.

The bear's thick hide required all his strength to tear through, but when he finally did, its blood flowed like translucent amber, sweet as fine wine.

As the blood coursed through him, Anker felt a strange calm settle over him. For the first time, he was sure of his place at the top of the food chain. Closing his eyes, he sat on the floor and savored the bear as if it were a fine meal, leaving only its bones behind.

While he ate, the other three animals remained silent, like waiters in a high-end restaurant, making no sound at all.

When he finished, Anker sat back at the table, calmly surveying the remaining three animals.

"Aren't you afraid?" he asked.

The only response was the sound of shuffling cards.

"Good."

Anker smirked in satisfaction and resumed drawing cards.

The rules were increasingly familiar to him.

In less than twenty minutes, the pigeon lost all its chips. Before it could escape, he grabbed it, crushing the bird in his hand and biting off its head. He squeezed so hard the pigeon turned to pulp.

After finishing the pigeon, he spat out the feathers indifferently.

"Next."

The eagle, seated opposite him, suddenly tossed its cards aside.

"You've won. I surrender."

"Why?" Anker asked, surprised.

"You've become one with the rules. No one can defeat you."

"I see."

Anker shrugged nonchalantly. "Suit yourself. The outcome wouldn't have changed anyway."

He grabbed the eagle's wings and ripped it apart.

The blood splattered over him, but this time, it felt hollow. The eagle and pigeon had barely resisted.

"Not thrilling. Not exciting at all."

He frowned and scanned the room until his gaze landed on the grinning fox.

"I have an idea. You play with me."

The fox's smile froze.

"Me?"

(End of Chapter)

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