Hogwarts: O Lorde das Trevas Tão Justo que é do Mal
O jovem biólogo Li Weide, inesperadamente, atravessou para o mundo de Harry Potter e chegou à era de Grindelwald, e ainda por cima sua idade física voltou a ser de onze anos. "Ding! Sistema de Mérito sendo vinculado ao hospedeiro. Basta praticar boas ações e acumular méritos para trocar por recompensas! Além disso, se o hospedeiro alcançar a conquista final de Lorde das Trevas, poderá se tornar um deus instantaneamente." Li Weide: ?? Anos depois... Dumbledore: Ele é um grande homem. Nesta era, poucos estariam dispostos a sacrificar os próprios interesses para ajudar os outros. Grindelwald: Absurdo! Esse sujeito, embora jovem, para atingir seus objetivos, não mede esforços. Claramente é alguém do nosso tipo! Newt: Aquele jovem parece mais feroz que um dragão de fogo enfurecido, mas... por que o Qilin é tão próximo dele? Tom: Quem te mandou ser Lorde das Trevas desse jeito? Às vezes eu até quero te chamar de santo! Li Weide: Santo? Seu sem nariz, que insulto sujo!
Hogwarts: O Lorde das Trevas Tão Justo que é do Mal
The sky over London was as gloomy as ever.
Woods Orphanage.
Room 201.
Thud!
A heavy wardrobe drifted gently down from the air and landed on the floor.
[Three hundred and fifty-eight manipulations completed. This fully proves one thing: the stronger my will, the more focused my mind, the greater and more precise the force I can control... Perhaps this power is a kind of idealistic force?]
Levit looked at the small notebook in his hand, its pages covered with his notes, then added another line with a battered pencil.
[Despite repeated experiments, I still cannot determine the source or scientific principle of this power, nor do I know if anyone else possesses such an ability.]
Levit closed the notebook and, together with the broken pencil, slipped it into his pocket.
“All right, that’s as far as the manipulation experiments can go for now. Next, the second phase: repair trials…” he said, pulling a cracked chair over from beside the bed.
Levit placed his hand on the chair and patted it softly. Instantly, the chair crumbled into pieces, scattering across the floor as if it had only ever been crudely glued together with poor-quality adhesive.
He gazed at the fragments, then solemnly extended his right hand, focusing his mind to the highest degree...
“Repair!”
No sooner had the word left his lips than the scattered pieces began to stir, slowly reassembling themselves as if a film were playing in reverse. Soon, the chair was whole again, though the cracks remained—albeit, at a glance, somewhat fewer t
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