Lightning rolls on the owl's feathers, and black and white soar through the sky.

Thunder and lightning shrouded over Newmengard like a giant birdcage, enveloping the tower, from which it could not be escaped.

Unable to flee, the cowards were forced to become new martyrs.

"Is that your handiwork?"

The white-haired man on the tower was in front of the gorgeous glass, looking at the birds that were flying together.

"You have created much, Joel."

Grindelwald turned slowly, his long cut gown was elegant, his silver-white hair and heterochromatic eyes were crazy.

Like an orchestra conductor who should be in the Golden Music Palace, and like a revolutionary who is crazy about ideals.

There he was, the strange colors of lightning and magic spells leaving a hallucinatory trail on his face.

The evil smile is full of demagogic charm.

This is a careerist.

He was a revolutionary until his ambition was unleashed.

Ambition bewitches anyone who is crazy about him, putting on the ideal cloak for ambition.

Deception, temptation.

Anything that can unleash his ambitions will create the craziest Dark Lord in history.

He affectionately called John's name, Joel.

What a gracious name.

In Godric's Valley, blonde and white hair meet.

After two months of getting along, the careerist whose ambition is beginning to appear, and the down-and-out king.

The blue eyes are not there, and neither are the white hairs.

After re-meeting, the Dark Lord and the Second King.

The Elder Wand and the Resurrection Stone.

John looked at Grindelwald quietly and said calmly, "Some fusion of bloodlines, plus a miracle called magic."

"You've been a surprise, even now." Grindelwald wasn't afraid that John would sneak up on his back.

He turned to look at it with obsession in his eyes.

What he once longed for, flying and soaring under the sky together.

Full of ambition, he once thought the world was under his control.

But reality doesn't care who you are, even the most terrifying Dark Lord in history has been educated by reality.

A battle of three people leads to the death of a fourth.

The fifth person watched from the wall.

"We're all old after all," the envy in his eyes was the Dark Lord's true feelings, and the freedom he longed for could not appear, "and you're young, Joel."

"You can do anything, just as you can undo all your regrets."

"You're willing to let people follow you, it's different from me." He said slowly, turning around.

"I don't remember saying anything about making magic great again." John walked forward, stopping in front of Grindelwald.

The boy who was once tall has now been overtaken.

John said word for word, "Tell me why you killed him."

"He?" Grindelwald thought and said, "Barty Crouch?"

"With your values, he doesn't deserve to die." John's brow furrowed.

"Yes, at my worth." Grindelwald laughed, "But what if it's you, dear Joel?"

He grinned, his hands behind his back, like the naughty boy he had been.

"He's a good Minister of Magic, but he's not very good."

Grindelwald walked over to the table and picked up the frame.

"You're a good friend, Joel." His fingers greedily rubbed against the golden edges of the frame, the uneven lines marking the fingertips.

"You don't covet your friends' things, and Crouch, like me, is old, stubborn and wizarding arrogance etched in his bones."

"You said power."

He tilted his head slightly, landed on John with his afterglow, and whispered in the most demagogic magnetic voice, "He is not dead, and you will not want to be the king of this world."

"So I settled him for you, with your values." With the picture frame in his left hand, he walked over to John, "The ones out there."

"It's a sacrifice."

"A great sacrifice, my own opinion, as willful as you did without saying goodbye."

John stared at him, at the pair of eyes.

His voice was low, and he was suppressing the killing intent that was about to pour out.

"You know, I'm going to kill you, right?"

"Yes." Grindelwald nodded and chuckled, "What's the difference between me and death?"

"See this?"

Grindelwald raised his hands and walked to the middle for a spin, his voice becoming high.

"I've been here for half a century."

"I thought a lot, I thought about my failures, I thought about my time in Godric's Hollow, I thought about my aunt."

"You know what, Joel," Grindelwald said, "I went back again after I left."

"When I saw Bathilda Bashak's life of completely forgotten Joel, I realized that you were so gentle."

"I went to Al's house again, and I saw that the place was empty, and I saw the grave."

"It's amazing, the flowers there are growing so much, I've looked up a lot, and I've gotten the name of the Horcrux from a book."

"I know, I know everything."

Grindelwald looked a little crazy, "You didn't do anything, you did everything."

"You are so selfish, Joel," he said, his voice high, "you keep all your kindness by your side, and selfishly refuse to leave those people."

"Do you know how surprised I was when I met you in Paris?"

"Your looks, your youth, you are a man who plays with taboos, and great miracles are born in taboos."

Grindelwald held the frame up, "You've done wonders for everything."

"Someone who should be dead, someone who should be lonely, someone who should be sad!"

"So when I saw failure, I gave up everything," Grindelwald's voice gradually flattened, "that you once showed me that those Muggles were so powerful that wizards could not succeed."

"I choose another path and sprinkle seeds in this world."

"As Grindelwald's epilogue approached, I met with a guy."

"I give him magic to make him crazy, and I'm there to spread your ideas."

"Strength reigns supreme," Grindelwald was no more than an arm's length away from John, and he held out his finger to it, "only strong can lead."

"Change these, make them crazier, just like you once influenced me!"

Grindelwald's voice stopped.

John's fingers let go and clenched again.

"It's mad to use the lives of those people as a foreshadowing," John muttered, "and you were prepared to let them die from the beginning."

"No, if you don't stand up to these suffocating trials," Grindelwald chuckled, "the world can't survive Muggle technology."

"It's better for me to let this world be destroyed in advance."

"Majority vs. minority," John sighed, "don't hesitate to destroy the minority, you're really crazy."

"I am you, Joel." Grindelwald's strange eyes stared at John, "I'm acting on Joel's side."

"The madness hidden in your heart, you have never seen it yourself."

"Why not Dumbledore?" John asked.

"He's too naïve, isn't he?" Grindelwald shook his head and said, "He's as old as I am, but he's kind."

"You won't, just and right, you will choose right."

Grindelwald saw John through.

It was during that time when Joel disappeared and John Wick began to make a name for himself at Hogwarts.

He had been watching John, and Dumbledore's correspondence with him contained something about John Wick.

Therefore, the one who knows John best has always been Grindelwald.

It wasn't until the Holy Grail that could burn him again appeared that he knew his chance had come.

"You know me well," John raised his eyes slightly, "so you should know what kind of things are going to happen to you now."

"You're going to die, Grindelwald, to die in this place."

"Die in what you call ideals and sacrifices."

"You know I won't have mercy on you."

"Self-proclaimed sacrifice, madness at all costs."

"Barty Crouch's death."

"All this will be a eulogy for your death, and your soul will not be relieved."

Grindelwald smiled.

Yes, he understands John.

Know better than anyone else.

He stepped back.

And John had already drawn his wand.

The silver ring covers the right hand, and the void holds the sword.

The ten trials on the sword of Silver Wick appeared in his hand.

The edge that can cut through everything has hung over Grindelwald like the sword of Damocles.

Grindelwald curled his lips and smiled evilly, and bowed slightly with his right hand on his heart.

"You're going to kill me, John Wick."

Grindelwald laughed, "I told you, I know you too well."

He let go of the frame in his hand and smiled, "So I know why you're listening to me so much."

"You're waiting for a one-hit kill, but I'm waiting too."

The frame fell to the ground, fragile as charcoal.

Shattered.

Grindelwald's body twisted.

John's pupils contracted into vertical pupils, and without hesitation, he slashed out with a sword.

The tower of Numungard glowed with golden light, turning into layers of runic script in front of Grindelwald.

...