Professor Vampire.

Chapter 151: Chapter 151 The real reason for the decline of this place

"Wait a minute!" Helpo suddenly shouted out, "Sir Dracula, I think there should be more room for us to cooperate."

"What room for cooperation can I have with you?" Dracula glanced at him tantalizingly.

With that, he gently shook his wand and summoned a bright red river.

The water meandered and coiled, gradually condensing into a blood-colored ball of water that firmly imprisoned Helpo's body.

After being confined in this secret realm by Andros, it was naturally impossible for Helpo to obtain a new body, and the state he was in now was just like Voldemort's soul state.

In response to Helbo's soul state, Dracula naturally adopted the magic of the Scarlet Water Prison.

This magic had been successfully experimented several times on Voldemort's soul body, and it worked very well!

Helpo's face really changed, and his expression became eager.

"Dracula, don't you have any interest in how I absorbed the power of the Dementors?" He shouted in a hoarse voice.

The speed of the blood-colored water prison's contraction slowed down a little.

"Quite curious indeed." Dracula chuckled softly, "Then I'll give you ten seconds to tell me carefully how you absorbed the Dementor power obliterated from the outside world into this place?"

"You have to promise to cooperate with me first and help me get out of this cage. Otherwise I won't tell you." Helpo laughed out deviously, "Don't think I don't know that you want to get something for nothing."

"But you have no room to bargain before me."

Dracula wasn't going to spoil him. The blood-colored water dungeon spun up once more, contracting at an accelerated rate.

"Dracula, your magic doesn't threaten me!" Helpo said hoarsely, "The big deal for me is that I'll just die again, as long as my Horcruxes aren't destroyed, I can never truly die!"

"But if you really disregard the friendship between our dark camp and insist on striking out at me - then you will never know my secret, and you will never know how I absorbed the power of the Dementors!"

Dracula's eyes moved slightly as he watched Helpo's expression of conviction.

He suddenly waved his wand, waving away the binding of the blood-colored water prison on Helpo, leaving behind only a ring of blood-colored ropes as crystalline as carnelian, and then lifted his foot and took two steps forward.

"A wise choice, Sir Dracula." Helpo revealed a smile and slowly nodded, "You won't regret helping me."

However, Andros, who stood next to Dracula, did not show any hint of anxiety.

Andros glanced at Dracula, and seeing the smirk on his face, he couldn't help but look at Helpo with an expression of pity.

Poorly, this Herald of the Dark Sorcerer still maintained his confident demeanor, believing that the unraveling of the Scarlet Water Dungeon meant that Dracula was ready to regain his identity as a member of the dark camp and start a cooperation with him.

In Helpo's opinion, no matter how strong Andros was in the past, he was just like himself, just a broken soul without a corresponding body, naturally he could not be the opponent of Dracula who had a complete body.

Therefore, as long as Dracula and himself agreed to cooperate, the two of them could easily get rid of the blockade of this secret realm, and even in turn trap Andros in this prison.

Thinking of this, a self-satisfied smile unconsciously hung on Helpo's face.

However, right at this moment, a burning sensation that pierced his soul suddenly surfaced from the depths of Helpo's soul.

He lowered his head in shock, only to find that the blood-colored ropes wrapped around his body were burning with a morose-white flame everywhere without exception.

This kind of flame seemed to have no temperature, yet it seemed to be able to burn to the soul, desiring to scorch one to ashes.

"Dracula, what are you doing?!" Helpo cried out in shock.

Looking at the look in front of him that was full of pleasant smiles, Helpo then realized that Dracula never intended to cooperate with himself. On the contrary, Dracula didn't even want him to die too easily.

"Helpo, are you worthy of threatening me with just you?" Dracula hooked up the corners of his mouth and smiled wilfully, "Since you don't want to say it, then it's fine. Sooner or later, I'll be able to find out your secret, there's no rush."

"Trust me, Dracula. You will regret today's move!"

Seeing that Dracula was soft and hard, Helpo also finally stopped expecting to cooperate with him, and just stared at him with a deadly stare, coldly letting out harsh words.

"You can also rest assured, I have a long life, but there are really not many things that can make me regret." Dracula said with a light smile.

Just like this, in the middle of Dracula and Helpo's two people's stares, the old man with a lewd face was continuously burned by the mori white flames, gradually becoming illusory and transparent.

Helpo was burned by the flames, twitching the corners of his mouth from time to time, but always insisted on tightly closing his lips, not letting out a single roar of pain, maintaining his last decency.

Finally, Helpo's soul body cauterized away, and the doorway of the replica version of the Parthenon in front of him became empty, with only some silver-white rays representing the daemon still quietly fluttering.

"It's really thanks to you today, my old friend, or I might still be playing hide and seek with him for years before I catch him." Andros stepped forward and patted Dracula on the shoulder.

Dracula took a step to the side without a trace, avoiding Andros' patted hand.

"Actually, I've been a bit bored lately, so I sort of came over to see you on a whim, and I didn't realize that I just happened to run into such a thing." Dracula said to Andros, "And after all, it was me who eliminated the Dementors that caused Helpo's power to increase, it's only right to take care of this guy for you."

"It's been quite a strange year to say the least." Andros stretched out his hand and somewhat fretfully stroked his comical beard, "This Helpo fellow doesn't know why, but instead of weakening, his soul power has become stronger and stronger over the years."

"I can only keep using a special method to strengthen my daemon, which is barely enough to fight against Helpo."

He pointed at the giant daemon that seemed to be as tall as a mountain, "Look, isn't my daemon quite a bit bigger than it was back then?"

"It is indeed obvious." Dracula nodded in approval, "I was still amazed when I first came here. How is it that two thousand years have passed and you still manage to maintain such a see-through mindset that your daemon has risen instead of shrinking?"

"That can't be helped, I do have a good mindset, you can't compare!" Andros proudly patted his chest, "You also don't look at who taught you your daemon spell!"

The corners of Dracula's mouth twitched viciously twice.

He took a deep breath before barely suppressing the urge to beat this bastard up, and gritted his teeth, "Don't tell me that just keeping your mind can amplify the daemon to such an extent ..."

"Alas ... that is certainly not so." Andros sighed and explained to Dracula, "I still don't know if what I've been doing all these years is right or wrong in order to limit a Helpo."

"In fact, I squeezed the magical potential of this area ahead of time!" He said slowly.

Dracula paused in his tracks.

"So this is the real reason why the Greek magic scene is gradually going into decline?" He asked softly, furrowing his brows.

"I can't think of any other reason that could have caused a magical community to decline to such an extent." Andros smiled to himself, "Gambling the future of a magical community for the sake of one person, who knows if you've earned it or lost it?"

"But how did you do it again?" Dracula once again took a step to keep up with Andros, "I've never heard of this kind of magic that can squeeze the potential of a region in all the time I've lived."

"This kind of magic with powerful effects, if it falls into the hands of those black wizards with bad intentions, won't they use the well-being of a magical community to pave the way for their own power advancement?"

"It's not that simple ... " Andros gently shook his head, "The conditions for this kind of magic to take effect are actually too harsh - "

This magic that had squeezed the potential of the Greek magic community could be traced all the way back to the birth of the secret realm at the top of Mount Olympus.

In the fourth or fifth century B.C. during the Ancient Greek period, Andros, in order to completely imprison the unkillable Helbo, specially led the entire prosperous Greek magic community to build a huge secret realm-

That is, the secret realm at the top of Mount Olympus.

In this secret realm, countless buildings that the Greek people had spent a lot of manpower, material and financial resources to build were duplicated by the wizards in the secret realm.

These buildings were not so much copies of the buildings in the outside world as they were spiritual projections of the buildings and spirits in the outside world.

This was also the origin of this magnificent cluster of buildings in the middle of the secret realm.

Most of these buildings were ancient Greek temples, which contained the faith of countless human beings in the gods, as well as the most ardent expectations of the wizards and civilians in the magic world for Andros to defeat Helbo.

One building after another served as the foundation of the formation, and together they were arranged into a magic array with rich magical power, sealing Helbo's soul in the middle of this powerful array.

At the center of the formation was the Giant Guardian God in the form of Andros!

In the course of Andros's two thousand years of fighting against Helbo, Andros's power slowly weakened over time, but Helbo's soul power was somehow growing.

Gradually, Andros was unable to suppress Helbo.

In order to do so, he borrowed the power of that building's projection, and used the little power he had left to communicate with the original building in the outside world, connecting with the beliefs of the ordinary wizards in this land.

In the end, through the faith of the people in the outside world, Andros once again gained the power to rival Helbo.

However, people's faith was not endless.

As time passed, the power of this faith became weaker and weaker, until when this faith could no longer support Andros' confrontation with Helbo, the formation automatically drew on the foundation of the Greek magic world-- the escaping magic!

the magic power that had escaped!

As a result, the total amount of magic power in the Greek magic world became less and less, and the wizards born here became weaker and weaker, and even the local magic schools could only teach in the thin magic power, and could no longer cultivate the same outstanding talents as before.

This is the root cause of the decline of the Greek magic world.

"So, the method of absorbing the power of the Dementors that Helpo was trying to tell me just now is the same reason why his soul power keeps growing over time?" Dracula asked, frowning.

"Quite possibly." Andros nodded helplessly.

"Then why didn't you just stop me from killing him?" Dracula glared at Andros, "If you could have extracted his words, there might have been a solution to the problem, and you wouldn't have to continue to squeeze the potential of the Greek magic community."

"Don't worry, I've been fighting with Helpo for at least two thousand years, I know him." Andros shook his head instead, "There's no way that dog could honestly tell you what he said. Even if he did tell you his secrets, nine times out of ten, he'd be wrong, or at least hiding something."

"If you ask me ... instead of going to listen to and believe Helpo's bullshit, you should think of a solution yourself!" He smiled relievedly, not seeming to feel the slightest hint of regret.

"Now I have to admit that your mindset is truly outstanding." Dracula exclaimed in admiration, "No wonder you were able to cast the world's largest-sized Guardian God spell."

"Hahaha, it's a pity that the size of a daemon spell doesn't necessarily correlate with strength either." Andros laughed, "Haven't you always mocked me with this? I don't know if I'm invincible, but I know I'm happy anyway."

"I'm more interested now in how you're going to explain that to the Greek Minister of Magic." Dracula gloated, the corners of his mouth quirked up, "Abbottel is so worried about the magical community that he's gone bald, I'm curious how you'll face him."

He gestured forward, pointing the middle-aged man standing with Newt with a bald head to Andros.

Andros' smile froze on his face.

"Honestly, I don't want to lie to him." After a long silence, he sighed deeply, "I'm prepared to tell him the truth. If this minister resents me, I'll admit it."

Andros smiled to himself and walked straight in the direction of Abattoir.

"One more question, do you speak modern Greek?" Dracula suddenly called out behind him.

"Of course I speak it." Andros gave a thumbs up behind him, "Anyways, I've always had communication to the various temples in the outside world, it's not that complicated to learn the language of a descendant."

Dracula shrugged and watched from afar as Andros pulled Abbottel, the current Minister of Greek Magic, away from Newt and talked to him about something off to the side by a low wall.

Abbottel at first looked at the ancient Greek hero with a look of adoration, and then without knowing what Andros said, Abbottel began to become righteously indignant.

After some more conversation, Abner sat down in a state of disrepute and agonizingly scratched his fingers through what little hair he had left.

Finally, Abbottel sat lifelessly against the low wall, sitting on the watery ground, unresponsive to any calls.

"Professor Dracula, what's wrong with Abner?" Newt asked with a worried face as he walked next to Dracula.

"Maybe it's a collapse of faith?" Dracula sighed softly.

"Let him sit alone for a while, this kind of thing still needs to be seen through by him."