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Voldemort, himself, was just too honest. Whatever evil thing he was doing, he would openly tell others that it was evil, that it was underhanded and shameful.
Completely unlike Ian before him… clearly wanting to learn this extremely vile dark magic, yet able to cloak it in righteousness, presenting it as a noble, critical study.
That level of shamelessness was truly invincible!
Scratch Scratch Scratch~
The sound of writing filled the air.
Of course Riddle had secretly learned this magic. So, faced with Ian' request, he said nothing and instead used action to show his greatest sincerity.
"Here." Once finished, Riddle handed the parchment to Ian.
Ian took it and held it up toward the light in the dungeon.
"This magic really is quite evil."
After reading the knowledge Riddle had given him, Ian glanced at the skill that had instantly lit up on his personal panel, then raised his wand. A plume of black mist rose, giving Riddle a little taste of dark magic talent shock.
"How could you learn it that fast?!" Riddle was genuinely stunned. He quickly backed away several steps in alarm, as if afraid Ian would use him as a test subject on the spot.
"Because this magic is dark enough." Ian gave an honest answer.
"Huh!?" Riddle's face was full of confusion.
Ian, thinking Riddle hadn't understood, explained again with a sincere tone: "My talent tree is a bit skewed, the darker the magic, the faster I learn it."
"So just by looking at the speed at which I learn magic, you can determine which category it should be thrown into. I realized this about a year ago, when I was in Hogsmeade waiting for the first-years to start school. A good friend gave me a copy of Secrets of the Darkest Art."
"My teacher also taught me how to chew big melons (gossip), so life was quite fulfilling." His voice even carried a hint of nostalgia, as though reminiscing about the good old days.
"??????"
Hearing this, Riddle was completely dumbfounded. This was information he could never have gotten from anyone else at school.
In that moment, The young Dark Lord fully understood why Ian before him could live so comfortably in this era, and even buddy up with a god, it was simply because this was exactly the kind of wild age he was meant to live in.
Hogwarts?
That is far too small a stage for him.
Feeling somewhat wronged, Riddle was stifled with frustration. He simply couldn't understand how a student like this could still hop around freely in Hogwarts. Compared to this little wizard, his own research during his school days could practically be called pure and innocent!
"Well… you really are something…" Riddle forced out a smile uglier than crying, and gave Ian a heartfelt thumbs-up.
At that moment, he thought back to a conversation he had once overheard while in Malfoy's body, about him and Ian: Only a madman can deal with a madman. Voldemort is a madman, so we need an even crazier madman to deal with the one who hasn't died properly.
Back then, Riddle had scoffed at those words. But now, He felt that perhaps pure-blood families weren't all idiots after all.
"In truth, the person who invented this enslavement curse is the one who's truly incredible, a genius idea… In this magic, I feel like I've already glimpsed the true origin of Dementors!"
"Tom, I didn't expect you could make a real contribution to Hogwarts. I think, given some time, Hogwarts could have its very own Azkaban!"
"You, and the future you's leftover, still restless Death Eaters, are in luck. They'll get to live forever." Ian's talent for dark magic was clearly not limited to instant learning.
He could also draw inferences, Seeing potential future developments from this magic.
"…"
Hearing Ian speak so enthusiastically, Riddle stayed silent for a long time.
"Could you… maybe not be so evil…? Sorry, I'm really not used to this feeling." When he finally spoke, his tone was more sincere than ever before.
He'd spent his life being the evil one, And truly wasn't used to standing in a place where someone else seemed more evil than him. Yet no matter how hard he racked his brain, he couldn't figure out why this boy was Dumbledore's favorite.
"Just a reminder, you don't have much time left." Having finished her walnut, the "priestess" clapped the crumbs from her hands and abruptly cut in, speaking to Ian.
"What do you mean, 'not much time'?" Ian glanced at Riddle.
"Doesn't he still have seven days to live?"
He examined the changes in Riddle's skin.
"You have seventeen hours left." The "priestess" gave an answer that had nothing to do with his question.
It was obvious she was bound by some restriction and couldn't reveal too much.
Ian reacted quickly.
"Pompeii…"
The moment Ian thought of that prosperous city, and the little girl who saw him as a god, who would also perish in this disaster, he felt a tightness in his chest.
The biggest difference between him and Riddle was that he wasn't cold-blooded. Reading about this event in a history book was nothing compared to standing within it, truly feeling the tragedy.
"Since you know this, why can't you do something? This city worships you…" Ian couldn't help but glance at the "priestess," who seemed rather indifferent toward the coming catastrophe.
"The fixed point in time cannot be changed, at least, not for us." The "priestess" merely shook her head, expressing her own helplessness toward the disaster that was about to unfold.
"Then what's the point of worshipping gods?" Riddle couldn't help but spit out a sarcastic jab.
The "priestess" glanced at him, And in the next instant, The poor Dark Lord felt his whole body take a heavy blow, like a kite with its string cut, sent flying through the air before slamming hard into the stone wall, badly injured.
"This is the point." She spoke coldly to Riddle, then turned back to Ian. "Have you decided how to deal with Herpo?"
It was phrased like a question, but sounded more like a hint.
"Mm." Ian narrowed his eyes.
"You can't expect me to take on a legendary wizard, especially one who's supposedly ascended to an 'Angel' status, by myself. So, you need to go with me to deal with Herpo."
After speaking, He paused briefly.
"This is an order."
He stressed the words. The contract mark on the back of his hand surfaced.
At this, The "priestess" did not get angry.
"So it's an order… well, that can't be helped then." She also raised her hand to look at the matching contract mark on her own skin, her tone filled with amusement, the upward curve of her lips impossible to hide.
Clearly, This goddess was not exactly the obedient type.
"Cough, cough! You really hit hard!" Holding his chest, Riddle got up and wiped the corner of his mouth. Seeing this scene, the turmoil in his heart was far greater than the pain in his chest.
"Did I just see something I shouldn't have?" He looked at Ian and that terrifying deity in the distance, and couldn't help but feel a fresh wave of anxiety about his fate.
A god, taking orders from a mortal.
Was this really something a sixteen-year-old Dark Lord should be witnessing?
He knew it, Ian was not normal!
There is definitely something dirty going on here!
(End of Chapter)