"Wizard Apprentice Daniel Fox, your trial in magical combat is complete. This time, your score is 32 points."
A calm, mechanical voice resonated through the dream world.
"Suggestion: Leverage your strengths. Melee combat is fighting, spellwork is fighting, and even potions can be a means of fighting. It's not your fault if you lack magical knowledge, but it's sheer foolishness to let yourself be deceived!"
As the fiery red orb of light burst into fragments, Daniel Fox materialized back into the dream world's staging area. Bella's dispassionate commentary still echoed in his ears.
A faint blush crept onto Fox's face. He replayed his earlier failure in his mind, an embarrassing spectacle that felt like a scene from a slapstick fairy tale. Those azure-blue elves had seemed so innocent at first, almost like characters from bedtime stories. Cute and friendly, or so he had thought.
His plan had been simple: approach them politely, introduce himself, and gather information. Initially, they'd responded warmly, their demeanor welcoming and amicable. But before he could get far, their behavior had taken a sudden and violent turn.
They'd yanked him by his ears, lifted him high into the sky, and then unceremoniously hurled him to his doom.
Fox winced at the memory and instinctively touched his ear. The phantom pain lingered, a reminder of the humiliating ordeal. For the first time, he had experienced the mortifying sensation of being grabbed by the ears and tossed around like a rag doll. It wasn't just painful—it was outright humiliating.
"Excuse me," he ventured hesitantly, snapping out of his reverie. "Can you tell me my current ranking? Am I at least in the top 2,000?"
Bella, the dream world's overseer, responded with her trademark calmness, her delicate face betraying no emotion. "Apologies, Daniel Fox, but the rankings are highly dynamic due to the number of participants. A precise ranking cannot be provided until the assessment is complete. However, I recommend attempting other trials to improve your overall score."
The disappointment was evident on Fox's face. He sighed but didn't argue. Instead, he began scanning the available trials, deliberating over his next choice.
Suddenly, a thought struck him, and he turned back to Bella with an inquisitive expression. "Hey, I just realized—I don't even know your name. What should I call you? And are you a wizard from Kamar-Taj as well?"
Bella's lips curled into a polite smile, though her expression remained unnervingly composed. "Of course, I am Kamar-Taj's most prized asset," she replied smoothly. "You may call me Bella. The dream world is my domain, and I am its spirit."
Her words gave Fox pause. The implications sank in, and his expression shifted into one of vague understanding mixed with mild disappointment.
Wait, did she just say she isn't human?
Somehow, this realization left him feeling a strange sense of regret. Bella was undeniably beautiful, with a serene elegance that had captivated him. But now, knowing she wasn't human, his interest faltered.
As if sensing his thoughts, Bella's polite smile grew colder, a flicker of disdain flashing briefly in her eyes.
Another hopeless case, she thought to herself. Pathetic.
"Mr. Daniel Fox," she interjected, her tone brisk, "may I ask which dream trial you wish to attempt next?"
Fox jolted back to attention, her sharp tone cutting through his wandering thoughts. He quickly pointed to a glowing green orb hovering nearby. "I'll try the magical creatures trial next. Yes, magical creatures."
Bella nodded wordlessly and waved her hand. In an instant, Fox disappeared from the staging area, leaving Bella alone.
As the dream spirit stood there, her serene façade faded. Her expression grew dull, almost lifeless, as she simultaneously processed the data of thousands of other participants—ordinary Muggles dabbling in the dream world's wonders. Despite her immense mental capacity, courtesy of the dream world's power, Bella despised inefficiency. To her, wasted effort was a shameful flaw. Maximizing productivity was an instinct woven into her very being.
Meanwhile, at the Ministry of Magic, inside the ornate and spacious office of the Minister, Cornelius Fudge sat at his desk, his expression as commanding as he could muster. Opposite him stood Dolores Umbridge, her ever-present pink coat and saccharine smile masking her cunning nature.
"Umbridge," Fudge began, his tone heavy with importance, "I have a task for you."
Umbridge's eyes widened in eager anticipation. "Of course, Minister. How can I assist you?"
"I need you to identify a Muggle-populated area covering at least 100 square kilometers with a minimum population of one million," Fudge said, his voice deliberate and firm. "The more people, the better. The higher the population density, the better."
Fudge leaned forward slightly, fixing Umbridge with a penetrating gaze. "Find such a place, and you'll be handsomely rewarded."
Umbridge blinked in surprise, but her ingrained Ministry instincts kicked in. One of the unwritten rules of climbing the Ministry's ranks was absolute compliance, no matter how outlandish the request. And Umbridge had long mastered the art of obedience.
"Rest assured, Minister," she replied with a sugary smile, "I will scour all of Britain to locate the most suitable location for your needs. It will meet every requirement you've outlined."
Her obsequious grin deepened, and Fudge nodded, clearly pleased. For all the talent among the Ministry's ranks, few matched Umbridge's unflinching loyalty. While others might boast skill or ambition, Umbridge's unwavering servility made her invaluable.
Before she could leave, Fudge added one more instruction. "Oh, and Umbridge, avoid London."
Though puzzled by the peculiar restriction, she didn't question it. With a quick nod and an emphatic assurance, she departed, visions of promotions and accolades dancing in her mind.
Once alone, Fudge retrieved his wand and waved it in the air. A shimmering blue dream seed materialized before him, its ethereal glow casting a surreal light across his office.
Fudge stared at the seed, his eyes alight with obsession and a glimmer of fanaticism.
Ms. Carter's words echoed in his mind: dream seeds required significant mental power to cultivate, but once nurtured, they grew into fully realized dream worlds. Beyond their practical uses for practice and combat, a dream world's existence amplified the power of its master. Even the smallest dream world could double a wizard's combat abilities.
To Fudge, this meant one thing: potential liberation from the precariousness of his political position. The wizarding world revered strength above all else, and for all his authority as Minister, Fudge knew his magical prowess left much to be desired.
The mere thought of the Dark Lord had once filled him with dread. He feared the day his title would no longer shield him, leaving him vulnerable to obscurity, threats, or even a quiet, ignoble death.
But with the dream world, everything could change.
Gripping the dream seed tightly, Fudge entertained a wild, almost audacious idea. If he could cultivate a dream world of his own, harness its power, and rise above his limitations, perhaps his position could remain unchallenged. Perhaps he could rule indefinitely—or ensure his successors would always be under his control.
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