The moment the broomstick collided with the Muggle fighter jet, time seemed to stand still at this moment.

In the blue-black night sky like a curtain, the broom was broken and branches and sawdust were flying. Hoffa was lying in the sky with his arms forward, like Adam in the oil painting Genesis, while Aglaia was head down, with silver hair flying on her face.

Out of fear, she also stretched out her hand and tried to hold Hoffa, but the two were just a little behind each other.

In the distance, there was a German BF-109 fighter jet that turned 180 degrees. It was spitting out tongues of fire and vowed to silence the two weirdos it saw.

Underneath the two men was a British Spitfire fighter jet that looked like a whale out to sea.

In a flash of lightning, Hoffa activated the only activation state he could use. He stretched out his arms and pulled Aglaia's arm dangerously.

He jumped off the broomstick that was completely scrapped. With his other hand, he slammed into the flying Spitfire like lightning.

Black nails penetrated the glass at the top of the cabin. Amid Aglaia's frantic screams, Hoffa led her to grab onto the vertical plane, like a master rock climber on a cliff.

The pilots in the British Spitfire were also dumbfounded.

He stared blankly at the young man in the sky who was buckled on the top deck of his plane. What happened in front of him was completely beyond his world view and outlook on life that he had accumulated for more than 20 years.

"hathell..."

Bang bang bang!!

His momentary absence was fatal.

The German pilot did not miss his opening, and the bullets in the air flew past like shining golden snakes.

The next second.

The absent-minded British pilot was directly beaten into a sieve by the German pilot in the distance. His brains were sprayed everywhere, and Hoffa's face was sprayed with blood.

The plane lost control. It was hit in multiple places and flipped over. With this flip, Hoffa, who was originally as vertical as a rock climber, hung upside down in the sky, like a bodybuilder grabbing a horizontal bar.

"What should I do!"

Among the various sounds, Aglaia's cry could not be heard clearly. She was held in Hoffa's hand, with an altitude of nearly a thousand meters under her feet, and above her head was a Muggle combat aircraft that had begun to smoke.

Hoffa glanced at Aglaia and decisively let go of her hand. She fell downwards.

"Ah! Bastard!!!"

The girl cried out in despair.

After falling half a meter, she stopped.

It turned out that it was Hoffa who clamped her with his legs. She looked up and saw Hoffa freeing his hands and inserting one hand into the aircraft booking buckle. Veins popped out in his arms and he suddenly opened the glass roof of the aircraft.

The pilot who was beaten into a sieve was like a rag doll, rubbing against the two of them and falling downwards under the influence of the earth's gravity.

At this moment, the plane had already broken through the clouds and was falling rapidly downwards. They had already left England, and below was the rough Atlantic Ocean.

At this height and speed, there is no difference between hitting the Atlantic Ocean and hitting the concrete ground.

Hoffa was extremely focused. He pulled the pop-up glass window and crawled into the plane, then pushed the plane's control column sharply.

The damaged aircraft flipped 180 degrees, from belly up to belly down.

The huge mechanical force threw Hoffa and Aglaia completely up.

Aglaia didn't dare to look at anything anymore. She covered her eyes and bit her mouth tightly.

Even though every step was as thrilling as walking a tightrope, Hoffa was surprisingly calm. The plane reversed, and he sat in the blood-filled cabin under the influence of gravity, throwing Aglaia aside.

Aglaia looked behind her and saw that the German plane chasing behind her was still there. She screamed: "That man is still chasing us!"

Hoffa said without looking back: "You are a wizard, show your skills!"

"What should I do?"

"Shield Charm!"

Hoffa stared at the densely packed operating panel in front of him that was completely incomprehensible. He grasped the joystick with his palm and pulled it up sharply.

The plane was pulled up suddenly at a height of ten meters above the sea. The bullets hit the sea with crackling sounds, causing two rows of high splashes.

Aglaia got the hint, she held up the shield with one hand, pulled out her wand with the other hand, and shouted at the plane behind her: "Crush everything!"

A blue light shot toward the BF-109 fighter plane.

The German pilot behind him didn't know what the blue light meant, but that didn't stop him from pulling the control stick, dodging the crushing spell, and flying into the clouds high in the sky.

There was a roar.

Two planes were going up and down.

Seeing the dangerous opponent appearing and disappearing in the dark sky, Aglaia asked Hoffa anxiously.

"Aren't you going to fight back?"

Her voice was very muffled in the strong wind.

"No, this plane is going to die soon!"

Hoffa pulled the control stick, and it became increasingly difficult to control the dilapidated aircraft. It was swaying in the sky like a drunkard, emitting black smoke and flames.

The colorful buttons on the operating panel were completely beyond Hoffa's ability to understand. He gritted his teeth, looked at the faint coastline in the distance, and made an immediate decision in his mind. He couldn't swim, and fighting back now would undoubtedly be courting death.

.

But if you fall into the Atlantic Ocean at this position, you don't know how you will die.

The only thing he could do now was to get as close to the coast as possible before the plane crashed into orbit.

But the opponent didn't give him much chance. The German BF-109 dived again, the M machine gun on the fighter plane spitting out tongues of flame.

Hoffa jerked the control stick, and the British Spitfire took off diagonally, trying to dodge the bullets.

But as a layman, he was no match for a professionally trained pilot. His escape route was instantly seen by the opponent. The German pilot skillfully activated the machine gun on the wing, and the tail of Hoffa's plane was instantly shot into pieces.

At this moment, the plane lost its balance and fell toward the sea. The burning belly of the plane had already touched the sea. Soon, the rough waves hit the propeller of the plane.

Hoffa stretched out his hand, and the shield in his hand flickered a few times, like an old-fashioned TV screen with poor signal. The effect of the anti-magic potion had not yet worn off.

Depend on!!

He took back his hand and pulled the joystick firmly.

I don't know if it was really effective or due to inertia, but the falling plane unexpectedly bounced up, as if it was as light as a swallow in an instant, and rose to a height of 15 feet again, colliding head-on with the cyclone in the sky.

But this is just a moment of reflection.

After taking off for the last time, the aircraft completely lost power and gradually lost altitude.

Hoffa looked up at the German plane in the sky. He had no intention of landing at all. He also did not carry out strafing attacks. He was just like a professional vulture, hanging not far or near, waiting for the destruction of his opponent.

.

Even hundreds of meters away in the sky, Hoffa could feel the coldness of the Muggle pilot in the BF-109 fighter plane. Could it be that he could not die in the hands of Silby, but had to be killed by an ordinary soldier?

Get rid of it, it’s really a shame among wizards...

The thought flashed past.

The plane hit the Atlantic Ocean.

A large wave more than one meter high hit us. Amid Aglaia's screams, the burning plane rolled and crashed into the sea.

It exploded violently.

boom!!

At the moment of the explosion, Hoffa's eyes flashed with light. Fortunately, the effect of the forbidden magic potion finally ended.

He regained the ability to use magic. A pair of huge wings spread out from his back. He hugged Aglaia tightly, and the wings wrapped the two of them together.

The flames and ocean engulfed the two of them. He held Aglaia with one hand and pinched his nose with the other, and fell downwards.

As the magic power passed, Hoffa's wings became harder and harder. Even so, he still felt like countless iron pieces were stuck into his wings.

The water was not deep, and after falling ten meters, he touched the seabed.

Bubbles surged, and the dull sound of water and rumbling explosions could be heard in his ears. Before he could relax a little, the propeller on the broken nose of the plane was churning sideways like a meat grinder. Hoffa's eyes widened and he pushed hard into the sea.

Bed, letting go of the terrible aftermath of the explosion.

The propeller buzzed as it hit the seabed, shaking up large grains of sand.

...

...

Seeing the plane exploding in the air, the German pilot felt relieved. He pulled up the plane and quickly and decisively disappeared into the sky.

Ten seconds after the roar of the plane disappeared, the firelight on the sea dimmed.

At the bottom of the sea, the firelight from the top gradually disappeared. Several frightened cod swam past Hoffa's eyes. He pinched his nose, looked at Aglaia, who had fallen into a coma, and spread his wings again behind his back.

He kicked off the ground and flew upwards.

Wow!

He broke through the water and emerged from the water holding Aglaia.

The night was dark. He still vaguely caught a glimpse of a dark thing flying eastward, its light faintly visible and gradually disappearing. It was a German fighter plane.
To be continued...