Choice 5: [X] Rain Dragonfire from above, then Flow behind the formation and lay more dragon fire onto them from their rear while they are likely attacking the ceiling. Then flow and hide in one of the chimneys. Shinji will pause for a few seconds there to make a few ofuda (replacement flow ofuda and some Earth ofuda) and to observe the enemies reaction before launching another strike.
Choice 6: The dark wizards in the room came from many varied backgrounds. Some were former criminals, out of work and out of luck after serving their sentences, only to be offered a chance at redemption by one of the legends of Magical Europe - Gellert Grindelwald himself. Some were werewolves who had been cast out of wizarding society, only for a great revolutionary to offer them a chance to strike back at those who had hurt them, to take down Britain, one of the great - often thought unassailable - pillars of Magical Europe, and too, one of the great fonts of racism against their kind. And some - well, some were mercenaries being offered the job of a lifetime: the consequence-free capture and sack of a magical nation's capital - and its Ministry.
Given that said nation had coincidentally broken away from the ICW, and that the mercenaries weren't exactly stupid, it wasn't hard for them to guess what their employer - a man who called himself Grindelwald (a code name, no doubt, to cover up his association with the ICW) - wanted.
To make an example of Magical Britain, so that none would dare follow in its footsteps in breaking ranks from the Confederation.
While there was no joy for them in killing civilians, and the idea of working with former criminals made some of them turn their noses up, given that those tended to be rank amateurs at war, the very generous pay - and the fact that contact had promised to turn a blind eye to any looting they might do from the British Department of Mysteries or the Goblin Bank - helped them sleep better at night.
They'd done their best training the new recruits into something that wouldn't break in battle, though so far it hadn't been necessary, as there had been no organized resistance offered when their benefactor's shock troops began their assault in London.
No aurors. No "army." Not even the usual handful of unlawful combatants who insisted on fighting back.
Just helpless civilians running around as if the end of the world was nigh.
Perhaps Britain had well and truly been caught by surprise, never having expected any attackers to enter the country via non-magical means? Foolish, given the political situation of Europe as a whole, but then, the British had a bit of reputation for ignoring everything beyond their shores. Even then, the mercenaries had to admit that they'd expected something...but then maybe that was what awaited them in the Ministry itself.
This wasn't unheard of, but such a thing was more often the province of Dark Lords than Ministries, since ensuring the safety of their people and security of their borders were allegedly two of the functions of a proper government.
As such, they hadn't been entirely surprised when they appeared in the Atrium in groups of threes (supplemented by inferi), only to find that there was a thick, impenetrable darkness all around them.
"Night battle formation," Petrov, their leader, barked, with the troops scattering and hitting the ground, drawing their hands of glory as the inferi milled around them.
Which was when the dragon swooped down upon them from above, its flaming breath washing out in a line of death that essentially erased the strike leader and his squad from existence, their attempts to raise a shield against destruction proving fruitless.
"Dragon, a dragon! Anti-fire, now!" another barked, scanning the area as a third of them reached into their robes and jabbed themselves with a injection vial filled with a custom-made potion just for dealing with magical flames - since some Dark Lords loved using things like Fiendfyre.
The rest (non-mercenaries) were forced to make do with the flame-freezing charm, which wasn't exactly proof against magical fire, but would provide some token resistance at least - maybe buying a second or two.
Not that any of this meant much when the dragon appeared before them once more, this time in the middle of the room, releasing its flame against the horde of inferi, which unfortunately could not be shielded and almost...melted in the flames, with the sickly-sweet scent of burnt pork wafting through the air.
Still, this time, the dragon seemed to be still for a moment as it attacked, not swooping forward - a mistake it would regret, as five confringos at once slammed into its likely position with a satisfying chain of booms.
Not that this would be enough to kill a dragon, though they hoped they'd crippled its wings - especially as a roar of fury rent the air.
"Inferi forward - make for the gate. Wizards, decay curses on the inferi, then assume fortress Formation - we have a dragon to slay!"
Shinji retreats to one of the chimneys via flow-walking, his sides stinging from where he was thrown into the ground and clipped by shrapnel from the Fountain of Fair Brethren exploding beneath him. He growls as he pulls a long, jagged shard out of his posterior, noticing that the black stone was slick with blood.
His blood.
"You dare to lay your filthy hands on a dragon, wretch?," he snarls, his vision flashing red as his fingers began to sharpen into claws, and scales began to appear upon the surface of his skin. "I'll kill you. I'll kill you all!"
But how will he will kill them? (30 seconds elapsed, 29 minutes, 30 seconds remaining)
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