Harry Potter: I am the Legend

On the other side, atop the gun turret, the first rays of dawn emerged. Hoffa's strength waned instantly—his swollen muscles deflated, his magic flow weakened, and his speed slowed.

"Dawn has arrived, Bach. The game is over."

Mans suddenly appeared behind Hoffa, at the very spot where he had been just a minute ago. Without hesitation, he pulled out a sharp dagger and aimed for Hoffa's temple.

Hoffa raised his hand, blocking Mans' dagger, and shoved him forcefully backward.

Tick. Zero-point-one seconds.

Time rewound. The recently separated Hoffa and Mans were drawn back together like two magnets snapping into place.

In the sunlight, Mans' previously rugged, masculine face now partially transformed into that of a woman. The bizarre sight churned Hoffa's stomach, but he suppressed the nausea and shoved Mans away again.

The moment he pushed him, time rewound again.

Push. Rewind. Push. Rewind.

Under the daylight, Hoffa's strength dwindled further, reducing him to the power of a normal adult. Eventually, he could no longer push Mans away, leaving them locked in a stalemate.

As they struggled, Mans sneered. "It's futile, Bach. I can see your past. The power of the Night God doesn't last into the day. You won't escape this time."

"Shut up, you selfish, despicable bastard!" Hoffa growled through gritted teeth. The dagger crept closer to his face, inch by inch. Exhausted and weakened, he finally faltered. The blade pierced his cheek, lodging into his cheekbone.

Suddenly, Mans' body wavered for a split second. In that brief moment of disorientation, the dagger slipped from Hoffa's face and clattered to the ground. Seizing the opportunity, Hoffa sprang up, performed a backflip, and delivered a solid kick to Mans' chest, sending him crashing into the wall.

Turning his head, Hoffa saw the vampire woman by Chloe's side. She had pulled a tube from Chloe's arm and was now curiously examining the blood dripping from it.

Perfect! Hoffa nearly wanted to kiss her in gratitude. Whatever her motives, her actions aligned perfectly with his needs. Mans' power came from Chloe, but he himself had no inherent abilities. Sever the connection between Chloe and Mans, and this temporal prison would collapse.

Hoffa lunged toward the iron chair where the nun was bound, intending to pull out all the tubes from her arms.

Realizing Hoffa's plan, Mans sneered. With a single gesture, he clenched his fist and yanked backward. Time distorted. Hoffa, mid-air, was forcibly dragged back. A second later, he was once again locked in the same stalemate with Mans.

In this loop, Mans raised the dagger, aiming for Hoffa's temple. But this time, Hoffa didn't waste his strength. Instead, he shouted toward the cornered vampire woman, "Quick, Bowman! Pull out the tubes!"

The vampire's gaze darted to the nun on the chair. She glanced at the two struggling men, hesitated for a heartbeat, then crawled toward Chloe.

"Don't even think about it!"

Another voice echoed from the hallway.

Hoffa's heart sank. He turned his head, only to see another identical Mans stride around the corner. Without a moment's pause, the second Mans lunged at the vampire woman, grabbing her by the back and hoisting her off the ground.

No time to ponder why there were now two identical Mans. Acting on instinct, Hoffa immediately released his grip and tilted his head aside.

The released Mans plunged the dagger into Hoffa's head. However, due to Hoffa's quick movement, the blade pierced through his mouth instead of his temple.

The sharp knife tore through his cheek as Hoffa bit down hard on the steel blade, even as his tongue was punctured. Falling to the ground under the impact, he managed to pick up a shard of metal and hurled it at the unconscious Chloe.

Clang!

The shard struck the nun's head, and she slowly opened her eyes.

"Do something!" Hoffa roared. "Fight back!"

"Fight... back?"

The groggy nun turned her vacant gaze toward him.

"Expecting a nun to fight back?" Mans jeered, pulling the dagger from Hoffa's mouth. "If she could resist, she wouldn't be a nun, would she?"

The blade loomed large in Hoffa's vision once again. The other Mans tightened his grip around the vampire woman's neck, choking her until her tongue lolled out.

In a desperate moment...

Tick.

Mans was suddenly flung backward, as if by an invisible force. Hoffa, too, was pulled up from the ground, and the vampire woman was released, retreating step by step. The sunlight on the walls dimmed as though someone had switched off the lights.

In the blink of an eye, day turned to night.

The moment moonlight streamed in, Hoffa inhaled deeply. With a powerful kick, he sent Mans flying like a cannonball into the wall. Mans' spine snapped audibly, his torso caved in, and jagged bones pierced through his back. The force of the impact shook the entire room.

Hoffa turned to see Chloe struggling to her feet. She stood unsteadily, one hand bound by chains, her gaze complicated as she looked at him.

"Go," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I can't hold him for long."

Before she finished speaking, she collapsed back into the chair. Mans, embedded in the wall, spat blood and slowly rose again. With his movements, the night quickly faded. The clock on the wall spun wildly forward.

Hoffa didn't hesitate. He grabbed the vampire woman and, without even sparing Chloe another glance, dashed toward the stairwell.

Bursting out of the accursed medical room, the oppressive power of Mans' temporal magic expanded outward. The last remnants of pre-dawn darkness vanished, and sunlight once again poured through the ship's round windows. Mans, without mercy, accelerated time to high noon.

The searing sunlight streaming through the windows instantly left burning red marks on the vampire woman's skin. She screamed in agony.

Without pause, Hoffa rammed through a steel wall and plunged down a shaft, dragging the vampire woman with him. Together, they tumbled to the ship's lower deck, finally escaping the punishing sunlight.

Beneath the deck, piles of wooden barrels filled with fresh water—used for the soldiers' daily tasks—were scattered. As they fell, both of them crashed through several barrels, coughing uncontrollably as water poured over them.

Jilia, the vampire, scrambled to her feet, shouting in utter disbelief, "What on earth was that thing? What just happened?"

"Shh! Quiet!"

Hoffa ignored his exhaustion and injuries, dragging Jilia to her feet and immediately activating his Phantom Walk ability. His entire body trembled, sweat dripping from his forehead to his chin. The vertigo and fatigue were overwhelming, making his eyelids feel impossibly heavy.

Adding to their misfortune, the sound of footsteps echoed down the stairs. Tap-tap-tap.

"Where are you, Bach?"

Mance's voice carried eerily through the space. His injuries had completely healed. Now, his face had become an unsettling blend of masculine and feminine features. Thin red tubes snaked from the back of his head, twitching grotesquely as he descended the stairs, a dagger spinning in his hand. His hunched form stalked into the supply room, filled with waterlogged barrels.

Silence.

There was no response.

Hoffa clamped a hand over Jilia's mouth, silencing her completely. He bit his lower lip and stayed on his toes, frozen in place.

"Don't bother hiding. Nothing escapes my sight," said Mance.

As he spoke, another Mance emerged from the staircase. This one looked identical, with the same hunched posture, twitching tubes, and dagger in hand.

"Time is the only constant, the inevitable fate you can never escape," the second Mance declared. He moved to another corner of the supply room. The tubes connecting each Mance to the ship's upper tower looked like strings controlling puppets.

Two identical figures stood in the room, speaking in overlapping voices. Hoffa's back was drenched in sweat. He swore this was the most nerve-wracking moment of his life. In desperation, he pinched his thigh hard, hoping it was all a nightmare. Perhaps the Nightmare God had come to collect rent again?

But the sharp pain reminded him this was no dream. This was reality—stranger and more terrifying than any nightmare.

"My motivations are simple: self-interest," Mance's voice shifted between masculine gruffness and feminine smoothness. "For greater value, I'll sacrifice everything. But I'm curious—what drives you to stand before me?"

As he spoke, a third Mance descended the stairs, joining the other two. He spoke as he walked, positioning himself in another corner of the room.

"Isn't everyone selfish? You've traveled far, met countless people—tell me, who isn't acting for themselves?"

A fourth Mance appeared, walking to the very spot where Hoffa and Jilia were hiding in their Phantom Walk.

More identical Mance figures filled the room. The overwhelming pressure was suffocating. Jilia trembled uncontrollably, and Hoffa was no better. Memories of Paris flooded his mind—back when Chloe's magic surge caused him to split into two versions of himself. But this? Mance had shamelessly created countless copies of himself without fear of the rules biting back.

"You call me selfish? Ha! Who isn't? The lives of others, the fall of empires—what does any of it matter to me?" The four Mance figures began to move simultaneously, circling the room in unison. "Some are born to be enslaved, others to enslave. And I— I want to be the one holding the chains. Don't tell me you don't."

As Phantom Walk faded, Hoffa's figure reappeared. The four Mances turned their twitching heads toward him in unison, grinning eerily.

"You must have your reasons too, Bach. Some unspeakable agenda."

They leaned forward, daggers raised in perfect synchronization.

Hoffa clasped his hands together, pouring out every last bit of magic he had.

CRASH!

A deafening explosion shook the supply room as every water barrel burst simultaneously. Water surged forward, flooding the entire chamber.

In a flash, the water solidified into a crystalline tide. The four Mances were frozen mid-strike, encased in clear, glistening crystal like insects trapped in amber.

Hoffa staggered backward, clutching his chest, his lungs burning as though filled with hot coals.

Jilia, staring at the crystal-encased figures, collapsed to the ground, utterly stunned.

Crack.

A fracture appeared in the crystal.

One of the Mances' eyes twitched.

Hoffa kicked Jilia sharply. "Don't just sit there! Move! My transformation won't hold for long!"

Scrambling to her feet, the vampire stumbled after him as they fled once more. After what felt like an eternity of running, they reached the warship's lavatory, a small room cluttered with brooms and cleaning supplies.

Hoffa slammed the iron door shut and collapsed against the sink, gasping for air. He was utterly spent. The pale, haggard face staring back at him from the mirror was barely recognizable, covered in cuts and bruises from the day's battles.

"Was it him?" Jilia's voice trembled. "The one who destroyed my family? Hiding an entire warship in my father's treasury?"

Hoffa glanced at her. The hatred in her eyes had been replaced with confusion and disbelief.

"Yes," he rasped. "With poison."

"But… but how? How are there four of him? Who even struck the blow? What is he?"

"He's human," Hoffa growled through gritted teeth. "Those were versions of himself from different timelines." He wiped blood from his lips. "That bastard brought his past and future selves into the fray."

"I don't understand!" Jilia exclaimed, overwhelmed.

"You don't need to understand," Hoffa snapped, catching his breath. "But I know this: the longer we wait, the more versions of him he'll summon—and none of them can die."

Jilia stood frozen, struggling to process the madness of it all. For a vampire whose life had been one of indulgence and simplicity, this was a nightmare beyond comprehension.

Hoffa pulled a glass orb from his belt, intending to ask it something. But he found he didn't even have the strength to speak. The creature inside the orb floated silently, its expressionless gaze fixed on him.

Another failure.

Even with the night's advantage, Hoffa couldn't suppress Mance. Once his transformation failed under the influence of time, Mance would return—and Hoffa wouldn't stand a chance.

The brutal reality made his head spin. He slumped against the tiled wall, his legs stretched out, and let out a long sigh. The glass orb rolled from his hand and clattered to the floor.

Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed up the staircase.

Hoffa and Jilia, now like startled prey, jumped to their feet, staring at the door in terror.

Bang!

The iron door burst open.

A battered, disheveled man stumbled into the room, collapsing face-first onto the floor. When he saw Hoffa and Jilia, he shouted frantically, "Run! Run! Riddle—he's gone insane!"

(End of Chapter)

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