Chapter 68 1. The First Martyr

1939

unknown month

siberia

Konstantin Ilyich Romanov, Minister of Magic of the Soviet Union, staggered forward on the ice sheet, clutching his stomach.

He looked at his watch. On the snow-covered dial, he could vaguely see the time, which was twelve past three at night.

The extremely daytime weather makes the Arctic Circle at 12 o'clock still dazzling, and there is a round of blurred daylight in the sky.

The cold wind of more than forty degrees below zero howled in the sky, and the snow and fog were so thick that it was impossible to see anything at all.

Stepping on a block of ice, the Minister of Magic in a fur coat collapsed on the ice sheet, hissing in pain and spewing thick white mist.

He suddenly looked back in horror, as if an invisible ghost was following him. However, there was nothing behind him except the wind and snow.

He looked up again.

On the vast and icy ice field, there is only a strange building that looks like a sunken ship in the distance. It is alone, as if isolated from the world.

Konstantin Ilyich Romanov was a tall man nearly two meters tall. He was wearing a thick bearskin coat, with a broad face and a pale face. A pair of precious calfskin boots had already been running for a long distance, and only There is only one under.

The five toes on his right foot are now so cold that only two are left.

However, these are not important, what really makes him painful, and fatal, is the wound on his lower abdomen.

He reluctantly moved his palm away, blood seeped from his fingers and froze into blood crystals before it hit the ground. There is a huge gap where the squirming internal organs can be seen.

There is not much time left.

Thinking of the heavy responsibilities on his shoulders, Constantine struggled to get up from the snow, and trudged desperately towards the shipwreck-like building.

Ten minutes later, he approached the building, made entirely of marble, old, dilapidated, and leaning.

But the former glory can be vaguely recognized.

Constantine rushed towards the door with difficulty, then waved his wand, and an iron door half buried under the snow burst open.

Constantine fell into a heap and rolled into the ancient building.

Following the slamming of the cold iron door, Constantine sealed the entrance to this place.

He collapsed to the ground and began to gasp in pain.

This is an empty building with a history of at least a thousand years. It used to be a conference hall. There are many broken stone chairs scattered around. The towering stone pillars on the walls are carved with various creatures, including dragons, phoenixes, and even And gods.

But these things Constantine had no heart to appreciate.

The cold used to numb the wound on his lower abdomen, but after entering this strange shipwreck-like building, his blood flow rate began to return to normal, and the tearing pain came again.

He moved his fingers tremblingly, this was not a skin injury, the bullet had penetrated his internal organs. Constantine knew that in such a place, it was impossible for him to be rescued.

Taking a deep breath, Konstantin took out a small tin can from his chest with trembling hands. It was his vodka, he didn't like to drink vodka, but at this time, he needed something to stimulate his spirits so that he could get his work done.

However, at the moment when he opened the cork, there was a chuckle from the height of the building.

"Do you think that if you bring me here, I will believe it?"

Constantine raised his head suddenly, and in the snowstorm, in the gap at the top of the building, there was actually a head of a man wearing a crown staring at him.

That head was very blurred in the snowstorm, but one could vaguely see that he had a pair of red eyes like searchlights in the snowstorm.

Bang!

The tin wine bottle fell to the ground and was drawn far away.

Constantine's already pale face turned even paler in an instant. He sat down on the ground and backed away continuously. Leaning against the stone wall, looking at the height.

He didn't expect that the person chasing him was already waiting for him at his destination.

tread.

The man with red eyes, wearing a crown and a black suit jumped down from a height of more than ten meters. The soles of his shoes touched the frozen marble floor, making a crisp sound of metal collision.

tread.

tread.

tread.

With his hands in his pockets, he walked slowly towards Constantine. While walking, it took off the crown on its head. It was a pale face, but its eyes were dazzling.

"You've already found the place, what more?" Constantine trembled hoarsely, touching his wand with his fingers.

"Hehehe, the abandoned school site of Durmstrang, the last place where forbidden arts were burned more than 1,000 years ago. Who else knows the lies of history better than me?"

The man in the suit approached casually, and just as Constantine was about to grab his wand, his wrist was stepped on by a cowhide boot.

The wand hooked out of his palm and was kicked away. On the slippery ice, it spins and slides far away.

"A wand, a fool's weapon. Too ineffective."

With that said, the man in the suit squatted down slowly.

He smiled and said, "Tell me, where is the last key?"

"ho"

"ho"

"ho"

Constantine took a few breaths.

Looking at the other party's red pupils, he showed a difficult smile. "Don't even think about it, you can't get into the library."

"Well, that's it."

The man pondered for a moment. He stood up suddenly and put away his wand. "By the way, I got a toy from a Muggle, it's quite fun, do you want to try it?"

Constantine didn't know what the other person was talking about, and then the man took out a silver pistol.

It's a revolver, a Colt Sniper, 9mm.

The man in the suit seemed to be playing with this thing for the first time.

He tossed the gun in his hand, holding the muzzle to himself, squinting one eye into the barrel. It seems that there is something funny in the muzzle of that gun.

"How to dismantle it?"

"How to dismantle it?"

Slap.

The cylinder is ejected and the gun is taken apart

"ha!"

The man held the gun with great accomplishment.

"One, two, two, two what?"

He will not remember it for a while, and then

boom! !

A loud bang echoed in the dilapidated building, and the man played too far, and the gun went off.

"Oh wow!!"

The man with the gun seemed to be taken aback by the toy in his hand, and he shook it twice before catching the gun.

After patting his chest for a long time, the man said with emotion: "Bullet, I remembered it. It's a remarkable creation. If this continues, these Muggles will replace the status of wizards one day, are you right?"

"Shoot, you can't scare me." Konstantin Romanov closed his eyes and said, "It's still the same sentence, you don't want to go into the library."

The relaxed expression of the man in the suit restrained a little. He bent down, pressed the revolver against the man's chin, and said softly:

"You don't need to worry about that. Tell me, where is the key?"

Konstantin Romanov pursed his lips and remained silent.

"It's really stubborn."

The man in front of him smiled slightly and said regretfully, "Goodbye."

He released the safety and squeezed the trigger slightly.

Konstantin remained motionless, giving up resistance.

Slap.

The firing pin misses.

The revolver does nothing.

Constantine closed his eyes tightly, and the expected scene of his head bursting did not appear.

"Ha, sorry." The man smiled.

He raised the silver revolver in his hand and looked.

"The gun is broken. It seems like God is going to give you another chance."

So he checked the gun. Then he put the muzzle of the gun on Constantine's head again.

"Say, where is that thing?"

"You you devil. Go to hell."

"Die? Hmm."

The man thought for a moment, and pointed the gun at his chin decisively.

Click!

The firing pin missed again.

Oops, he raised his hand helplessly.

"God didn't intend for me to die directly, I still have a chance to live on."

After speaking, he aimed his gun at Constantine again.

"It's not worth giving up your precious life for the orders of a group of dead people. Tell me now. Where is the key?"

Constantine closed his eyes and sneered, "If you tell me, you will let me go?"

"Well, of course, as long as you say so, I won't kill you."

Konstantin Ilyich Romanov nodded, opened his eyes and said calmly, "I'll wait for you in hell."

The man in the suit froze for a moment: "What a pity."

He moved his finger down, and there was a loud bang, and blood pooled on the frozen marble floor.

Under the inexplicable power, the bullet directly blasted a big hole in the opponent's lower abdomen. Together with the palm of his hand covering his abdomen.

Konstantin fell to his knees covering his abdomen, his forehead touched the ground, and his eyes were fixed on the other party.

The man in the suit shook his head: "You think I'll let you die right away? Sorry, just enjoy the last minute of pain before your soul leaves your body."

After speaking, he put away his weapon, put the crown on his forehead, kicked open the big iron gate behind Constantine, and disappeared into the snow with great strides.

From the corner of the eye, he watched the ferocious and weird man leave, and large streams of blood mixed with an unknown liquid spilled out of Constantine's mouth.

His vision began to blur and his thinking began to become confused.

But the last thought was still firmly entrenched in his mind.

If he dies, it doesn't mean that man will give up, on the contrary, he will never give up.

And the last administrator, he must be reminded. get out of europe

A trace of blue light appeared on his fingertips, and he was stained with his own blood. Mixing his magic power, he drew a five-pointed star magic circle on the ground, and began to write with difficulty. He wanted to pass on the final message.

Finally, he finished writing the text.

Just when he finally wanted to activate the magic circle.

A cold laugh came from behind: "Is Britain, I understand."

Constantine looked back and screamed, totally screamed. "Aren't you...!?"

He spoke incoherently, exhausted his last strength, and threw himself at the secret magic letter on the ground. He punched the blood-stained text on the ground.

The man was faster, however, and kicked the Soviet Minister of Magic away with a hard kick. He strode forward and squatted down in front of the text.

French was written messily on the ground.

【He's back, to England, Huo.】

There was a blurry bloodstain behind it, and I couldn't see anything clearly.

The man turned his head again, and the Minister of Magic of the Soviet Union collapsed on the ground, his mouth was wide open, his eyes were loose, and he was already too dead to die.