Chapter 623: Alan Stormborn - No Man, No Myth, No Legend!
Wild winds wreaked havoc.
Craters had replaced the hilly topography of this region, yellow-black and hazel bolts of lightning snaking here and there.
Sprawled in one of those craters was Black, his eyes rolled back into his head.
Standing on top of him, Alan put a hand on the Sorting Hat, preventing the stormy gusts of wind from taking it away with them.
"Calling your father a bastard..." he mumbled, his breath steady. "Spoiled brat!"
He bent, held Black by the collars, and pulled him up.
Black's head was twisted beyond recognition. A fist's impression covered his face, flesh squirming, trying to remember what the shape.
"I think I overdid it a bit..." Alan sighed, flicking the rim of his hat.
The Sorting Hat rolled his upper folds like eyes. "Don't even get me started..."
Alan made Black sit as if he were a mere puppet. He slapped the twisting face many times, helping it regain its shape.
When Black came to his senses, he blinked several times, trying to remember what had happened. He failed. Not even the Ad Infinitum could bring up the memories as if someone or something had deleted them from the hard disk before he could access them.