Harry Potter: Archmage of Another World

The night sky was silent, adorned with twinkling stars. A blood-red moon hung high above, its resplendent light cascading gently through the branches, illuminating the forest below with a serene glow.

The ancient treant relayed the information calmly, but even Hermione, hearing it for the first time, could not suppress the chill running through her fingers.

"Mammon?" Ron's face turned pale. Under the moonlight, his thin, frail body trembled slightly.

"You're saying it's Mammon, the archdemon of Hell who represents wealth?" Ron's voice faltered, barely audible, as if he couldn't believe what he'd heard.

"That's correct," the treant nodded calmly. "You must have entered this valley in search of your companions. If I am not mistaken, they are likely already prepared as sacrifices on the altar. Of course, the succubus that lured you here may not be satisfied with just a few individuals. I suspect its ultimate goal is to trap all of you."

The air turned icy. A suffocating chill surrounded Harry, and the heavy atmosphere pressed down like a thousand weights. At that moment, Voldemort almost seemed like a familiar, even lesser threat. Now, as a living sacrifice for the demons, Harry felt as though he'd been plunged into an abyss of ice.

"You're not telling us this just to see us panic, are you?" Hermione's steady gaze fixed on the ancient treant, her voice firm and decisive.

The treant had not expected such composure from the young girl before him. Despite her low magical level, she remained calm even after hearing such devastating news—an unusual display of courage.

A faint smile of appreciation appeared on the treant's gnarled face. "Indeed. With your current strength, even the weakest of the Abyss's low-ranking demons would be too much for you to handle."

Ron and Harry flushed red at this comment, embarrassment briefly flickering across their faces. Only Hermione remained expressionless, waiting for the treant to continue.

"However," the treant's tone shifted, "from my observations, there seem to be two mid-level mages in your group, are there not?"

Hermione nodded slightly, as if unsurprised. "Yes. Loki and Thor have progressed further in their studies than we have."

The treant's eyes glimmered with understanding. He sighed inwardly—these young humans varied so greatly in their talents. Such a disparity could not be attributed to mere 'giftedness' alone. Still, mid-level mages at their age were remarkable indeed. If it had been those two who entered the forest, the situation might be different. Yet even so, the girl before him was clearly no ordinary individual; her wisdom and maturity surpassed her years. Entrusting her with their plan seemed like a reasonable gamble.

"This place is indeed a realm forged by Mammon," the treant continued. "However, such realms are rarely visited by higher-level entities. The Abyssal gods have countless avatars, and sacrificial grounds like this exist across many planes. While the Tree of Life here holds significant value, it has yet to condense a World Crystal or give birth to a true World Tree. For now, it is not worth Mammon's full attention. Thus, the demons stationed here are mostly mid- and low-ranking foot soldiers. If your group's two mid-level mages were to act, dealing with these demons shouldn't be too difficult."

Hearing this, the three visibly relaxed. As long as they didn't have to face a god's avatar, everything else seemed manageable. The mere mention of a god, even an evil one, could drain a person of their will to fight.

"In that case, we can handle the situation ourselves. There's no need to trouble you further," Ron said quickly, eager to leave this place and reunite with Loki and Thor. Here, only strength could guarantee survival.

"True, defeating low-ranking demons may not be difficult for you. However, breaking this illusion and locating your missing companions will require my people's assistance," the treant replied with a faint smile.

"You mean that unless the illusion is dispelled, we won't be able to find our friends?" Hermione frowned slightly.

The treant nodded matter-of-factly. "Exactly. This realm was forged as a site of sacrifice to the Abyssal gods. Your companions are likely already waiting just outside the illusion, where the demons have placed them. After midnight, the demons will attempt to lure you in as well, trapping all of you and completing their ritual."

"In that case, we would appreciate your help in breaking this illusion. If there's anything we can do to help your people in return, we will not refuse," Harry said. Having lived under his aunt's roof for so long, Harry understood that favors rarely came for free. The treant obviously had its own needs, but mutual benefit was perfectly natural.

"Dispelling this illusion is not difficult," the treant explained calmly. "It requires the life source of my people to break the central anchor of this illusion—the heart of the altar itself. By using natural energy to counteract the demonic forces, we can achieve balance and shatter the realm."

"But wouldn't that destroy your entire race?" Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief. She could hardly imagine any life form willingly sacrificing its own people to save strangers.

A serene smile appeared on the treant's ancient face. "It is better for us to perish honorably than to live as nourishment for demons. By entrusting our future to you, we give our people a chance for true survival."

As he finished speaking, a translucent, emerald-colored orb, no larger than a goose egg, dropped gently from the treant's canopy. It was perfectly smooth, its surface glowing with a mystical green light.

Hermione picked up the orb and examined it closely. "What is this?"

"The Fruit of Life, the essence of the Tree of Life, and the hope of our people," the treant replied. "Our request is simple. After breaking this illusion and rescuing your companions, we ask that you plant this fruit in a safe place outside the valley, where it can grow freely."

The treant's gaze settled softly on the glowing fruit, as if looking at the dawn of new life. "Please honor this agreement. One hour from now, my people will help you destroy this illusion."

With those final words, the treant's ancient form began to fade into the shadows. The branches around them parted gently, revealing a forest path stretching out before them.

Hermione held the Fruit of Life in her hands. She exchanged silent glances with Harry and Ron. This task not only concerned their own survival but carried with it the heavy responsibility of an entire race's future. For the first time, they felt the weight of a deep and solemn trust placed upon their young shoulders.

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