Witcher at Hogwarts

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Rasputin watched half of his beard fall to the ground, anger flashing briefly in his eyes.

"I'm going to break you!" he growled, glaring at Ethan.

With a swift, sharp wave of his hand, the giant tree began to tremble violently. Outside, leaves cascaded from the branches, falling like heavy rain around the tree hollow.

Suddenly, thick, root-like blood vessels buried themselves into the tree, surging with a strange vitality.

They absorbed a faint green light emanating from deep within the tree, steadily draining its life force.

Ethan noticed the tree's vitality fading with each pulse of the blood-root veins. More disturbingly, Rasputin's severed beard lay on the ground, quickly turning gray and then crumbling to dust.

This sight confirmed it: Rasputin wasn't truly alive. He was clinging to some dark art to sustain his current form.

Without giving Rasputin another moment, Ethan launched forward, closing the distance in a swift, calculated charge.

Rasputin watched him with a twisted smile, making no move to defend himself.

Ethan's approach was unhindered, and he sprinted right up to Rasputin, drawing back like a coiled spring. In one motion, he thrust the Lady of the Lake's sword toward Rasputin's chest, swift and sharp as a striking snake.

But Rasputin merely looked at him with an air of amusement, unfazed. Then, unexpectedly, he caught the blade in his bare hand.

Ethan felt his sword halt, unable to pierce any further. Rasputin's strength was inhuman, far beyond that of a mortal man.

"Witcher, your feeble attack won't even scratch me!" Rasputin sneered.

"Oh? Then why are you bleeding?" Ethan replied with a sly smile, his gaze fixed on Rasputin's hand.

Startled, Rasputin looked down, noticing blood—no, a dark, foul-smelling liquid—dripping steadily from his palm. The same liquid flowed through the monstrous vines, though darker and pungent.

It took him a moment to process: this body, which he had painstakingly transformed to be indestructible, had been injured. He couldn't remember the last time anything had harmed him.

Suddenly, with a flick of his fingers, a vine shot out, coiling around Ethan's waist and flinging him back against the distant tree wall.

"How does your sword work against me?" Rasputin demanded, fury blazing in his eyes.

Just then, he felt a strange prickling in his hand—a sensation like thousands of ants biting into his skin. With horror, he realized that his hand had turned a sickly shade of blue and was swelling grotesquely.

"You poisoned the blade," Rasputin spat, his voice trembling with rage.

Ethan watched calmly, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. The battle had only just begun.

With a swift, forceful motion, he flung the Lady of the Lake's sword, embedding it into the tree wall opposite them.

For a moment, slender vines wrapped around Rasputin's injured hand, glowing with an eerie green energy that pulsed into his wound as the green light surged through him, the damage to Rasputin's hand healed at an unnaturally rapid pace, skin and bone re-forming visibly.

"Impressive," Rasputin said with a cold grin, flexing his now fully restored hand.

"That was the first drop of blood I've spilled since returning to this world."

His gaze shifted to the sword, studying it carefully before a knowing look dawned in his eyes.

"Steel of the lake fairy," he sneered.

"I don't know how you got this blade, but when I'm done with you, I'll have a reckoning with that lake fairy."

Purple flames erupted in Rasputin's hand, emanating a fierce, destructive energy that even Ethan could feel from a distance.

Yet, Ethan showed no sign of alarm; his gaze was fixed with interest on Rasputin's feet instead.

"First, you'll have to make sure you get out alive," Ethan replied, a strange smile on his lips.

Rasputin's expression wavered as he followed Ethan's gaze down to his feet. There, a small, smoking orb had appeared, radiating a deadly energy that made his pupils contract.

Before he could react, the orb exploded silently, filling the cave with a blinding light that forced Ethan and his ally, Gaga, to shield their eyes.

When they reopened them, the air around Rasputin had drastically changed. Ripples shimmered through the space as if the blast had distorted reality itself. A swarm of sharp, metallic fragments hovered, suspended mid-air, slowly inching toward Rasputin.

The fragments began to cling to him, attracted by some unseen force. Gaga's red eyes flickered with alarm, and he dashed toward Ethan, seeking cover.

Terror flashed across Rasputin's face for the first time as he felt his formidable magic failing him. He heard a strange crackling sound, so close it was almost in his ear. In a moment of horrified realization, he looked down at his left hand and watched it begin to fracture, hairline cracks spreading like a web across his skin.

Piece by piece, his body crumbled, splintering as if it were made of fragile porcelain. Flesh, blood, and bone scattered with each crack, the disintegration spreading up his arm, across his chest, and down his thigh.

Frantically, Rasputin tried to halt the process with his remaining hand, but his touch only quickened the breakdown. He gasped for air, inhaling the metallic dust released by the blast, and felt it burn as it entered his lungs. A searing pain raced down his throat and into his chest, igniting a raw, internal fire.

Blackened blood spurted from his mouth and nose, and as Rasputin's vision began to blur, he felt the dreadful sensation of powerlessness and, for the first time, a looming fear of death.