— — — — — —
[Congratulations, Host. Private Tutor's Favorability has reached 100%.]
[You've earned 100 Achievement Points and one Super Talent Extraction Gacha.]
[First time reaching 100% Favorability with a Private Tutor. Processing bonus reward...]
[Detected: Private Tutor possesses Mythological Attributes. Scanning mythic signature... Scan complete.]
[Congratulations, Host. You have unlocked The Twelve Trials (Custom Edition).]
A wall of notifications hit Tom just as he was about to speak to Andros, leaving him completely frozen in place.
Andros picked up on his sudden stillness and tilted his head. "Tom? You alright?"
Tom didn't answer right away. He stood there, wide-eyed for a beat… and then a slow grin stretched across his face—wider and wider—until he burst out laughing.
"HA! Andros, you won't believe this—my talent just evolved! And guess what? You're about to get a new colleague to keep you company!"
Double win. That's what they call a double win.
Including the new hundred points, his Achievement total had finally passed the 1,000 mark.
And the usual Talent Gacha had been upgraded into something... much, much bigger.
His bonus reward was shaped by Andros' mythology—which could only mean one thing.
...
Inside the Study space, Andros was speechless.
Andros felt like Tom was already overpowered. A private learning space immune to interference, him as a personal tutor—the greatest warrior of his era—plus a few of his talents, and the ability to lend Tom strength in times of crisis?
He had it all: potential, growth, security, magical foundation. The full package.
And now there was more?
Was he about to witness the birth of a true legend?
Or was this the moment the legend began?
"Tom," Andros said, visibly excited, "summon him. Let's meet another SS tier guy!"
Even in death, even as a proud warrior from another age, Andros couldn't help his curiosity.
"Hang on," Tom said, eyes still locked on the system screen. "Let me digest this first."
Andros zipped his mouth shut, not wanting to interrupt.
Tom focused on the new reward:
[The Twelve Trials: Even destiny can be pierced with wisdom and strength. Heracles, a mortal (half-blood) man, completed twelve epic tasks. These feats now take shape within myth and manifest as stepping stones on your magical path.]
[Effect: Complete trials to earn corresponding rewards. Once all twelve are completed, the host undergoes full-body Booster—upgrading all talents and bloodlines by one tier.]
[Trial One – The Dragon: Slay a fire dragon in direct combat. No outside help (wand allowed). Bathe in dragon's blood. Rebirth through death.]
[Reward: Perfect fusion with dragon bloodline. Massive boost to vitality and magical power.]
[Note: 12-month time limit. If not completed, a new challenge will be assigned at random. No penalty for failure.]
Tom just stared at the screen.
He blinked.
One full minute passed before he finally shook off the daze.
Each trial had its own reward. Complete them all, and his entire foundation—talents, body, bloodline—would reach a new level.
And these weren't minor boosts, either.
Just look at Trial One: Kill a fire dragon—alone—and you get a dragon bloodline? That was insane.
There were always rumors about the origins of wizardkind. Some believed humans and magical creatures had once interbred, granting wizards their unique power.
This theory claimed that in prehistoric times—before modern humans existed—only magical beasts roamed the earth. When humans emerged and mixed with them, bloodlines and magical traits were passed down.
Others even argued that goblins, humans, centaurs, and house-elves might share a common ancestor—just different evolutionary branches.
Of course, most mainstream wizards scoffed at this and labeled it fringe nonsense. After all, it threatened the idea of wizards as the rightful rulers of the magical world.
Still, there were whispers.
Some believed the Dumbledore family carried phoenix blood, which would explain why one just so happened to pop up in their line every few generations.
And Tom? He suspected Voldemort's hideous transformation wasn't just the result of dark magic. The man might've mixed in magical creature blood too.
If this first reward was dragon blood, then the rest of the trials must be just as mythical.
Tom was pumped. He wanted to find a dragon right now and throw down.
...But reality had other plans.
One: Dragons weren't easy to find.
Two: Dragons weren't easy to kill.
Everyone in the magical world knew how dangerous they were—armored scales, burning breath, claws like swords. Every part of them could end you.
It usually took at least ten well-trained Dragon Handlers, working in sync, to subdue one without casualties.
Killing one? That was an even taller order. And there was always the threat of a dying dragon's last-ditch counterattack.
How great would it be if he could just poison one...Snape's notebook did have some impressive toxin recipes...
Tom took a deep breath and calmed himself down, then stepped back into his learning space.
"Andros," he asked without preamble, "have you ever killed a fire dragon?"
Andros blinked at the question. Weren't they just talking about talent evolution? Why the sudden dragon talk?
Still, he nodded. "Dragons? Yeah, I've taken down two. One was a black dragon, the other a longhorn. I was broke both times."
Back in Andros' day, there were no dragon protection laws. You saw one? You killed it. Simple as that.
Dragons back then were pack hunters. They'd claim fertile mountains and islands, building up huge nests.
If you wanted to slay a dragon, the process was… straightforward:
Step one: Charge into the dragon's den.
Step two: Fight through a swarm of fire-breathing beasts—ten, maybe twenty of them. Then kill the dragon.
Step three: Walk away like a boss.
Simple. Clean. Brutal.
"What do you think about me?" Tom asked eagerly. "Do you think I could kill a fire dragon?"
Andros gave him a strange look. "You? Kill a dragon?"
Tom rushed to explain, "Not the way you would—charging in all brute force. I mean a fair fight. One-on-one. A lone dragon."
"Oh…" Andros visibly relaxed. For a second, he'd thought Tom had lost his mind.
"Well, it's still gonna be tough."
Andros didn't sugarcoat it. "They might be dumb as bricks, but dragons are tanks. Thick hides, monstrous endurance. And you've mostly trained in light magic—it's stable, sure, and it scales well with power and understanding, but it's not exactly lethal. Works great on humans—we're all just meatbags, after all—but against a dragon? You're still not ready."
"And don't forget, those things can fly. The second it senses it's in danger, it'll take off. And you? You won't be able to stop it."
Tom was just about to say, "I'll just chase it on a broom then," when he suddenly remembered the system's rules: no external tools allowed—not even a broomstick. Just him and his wand.
...Damn it.
"Then what about Dark Magic?" Tom asked, not ready to give up.
Andros scratched the back of his neck, looking embarrassed. "Dark Arts… yeah, not exactly my area of expertise. Didn't really study that stuff, and I've got no clue what your generation's cooked up. But—maybe? There's gotta be some way."
Andros, the literal embodiment of noble magic—the Patronus legend himself—was not the guy to ask about forbidden curses.
Tom sighed.
This was one of those moments where you really regretted not studying enough. Or in his case, pretending to be a model student just to keep Dumbledore off his back. He'd spent so much effort maintaining that image, he hadn't even learned decent dark magic yet.
Wait a second...
Tom's eyes lit up.
He'd been so focused on the Twelve Trials that he'd almost forgotten—he could still recruit another teacher.
All he needed was a Dark Arts expert. Someone who truly understood how to hurt something as tough as a dragon.
"Andros," Tom said, grinning. "I'm summoning your new colleague. You might not know him, but trust me—he's just as powerful as you are. Another SS-tier."
Andros nodded so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. Being stuck in the study space all day was boring as hell. Sure, he could sleep, but what was the point of a second life if you were just going to nap through it?
Finally—someone to talk to.
Tom focused. 'System, spend 1,000 achievement points. Summon a new Century King-level teacher.'
The system responded immediately. A thousand points vanished from his interface, transforming into a golden beam of light that shot from his body and disappeared into the misty void.
BOOM.
Thick white fog swirled, and the already Quidditch-field-sized space doubled in size within seconds.
Tom and Andros stood there, staring at the spot where the mist boiled most violently, waiting for the newcomer to arrive.
— — —
Meanwhile, somewhere far away…
At the top floor of Nurmengard Tower in Austria, an old man in tattered prison robes—his hair long and silver—suddenly froze, eyes wide with disbelief. A moment later, that shock gave way to curiosity.
---
Back in the learning space, Tom and Andros frowned at the figure emerging from the mist.
"…Is he wearing a prison uniform?" Tom asked.
Andros raised a brow. "A Century King… in prison?"
From experience, Andros knew what it meant to be someone at that level. You could lose, be defeated—even die—but imprisoned? That was almost unthinkable.
To wield that kind of power, your will had to be like iron. If you could be locked up… then maybe you weren't really an SS-tier.
"Did something go wrong with the system?" Andros began to worry. He'd come to care for Tom. That 100% Favorability wasn't just a number—it meant he saw Tom as his own student, someone to protect.
Tom finally broke the silence.
"…Sir? Mind introducing yourself?"
The man in the prison robes hadn't said a word. He just looked at Tom, then Andros, expression unreadable.
"Useless system," Tom thought. "Would've been nice to get some info ahead of time…"
Then the man finally smiled.
"I'm Gellert Grindelwald. Your second teacher."
WHAT?!
Tom's jaw dropped. "You're Grindelwald?!"
Andros racked his brain, digging through both ancient memories and the books he'd read since being resurrected. Finally, he made the connection.
"You're the dark wizard who lost to Dumbledore, right? Wait—weren't you supposed to be locked up? Are you… dead?"
At the mention of Dumbledore, Grindelwald's eyes narrowed slightly—but the look faded quickly. He chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Afraid not. This failure of a man is still very much alive, wasting away in the top floor of Nurmengard Tower."
Then his gaze shifted to Andros, and his smile deepened. "But you, sir—you're a legend. Even thousands of years later, your name lives on. When people talk about the Patronus Charm, you're the first name they mention."
Andros laughed. "Ah, you flatter me."
Tom, meanwhile, had taken this moment to mentally scream at the system.
"System, what the hell?! Why did you summon Grindelwald of all people?!"
[System self-check complete. No errors found.]
[Reminder: Teachers do not have to be deceased. Gellert Grindelwald meets power criteria and was a valid selection.]
Tom panicked.
"But what if he leaks my secrets?! What if I summon Voldemort one day—how the hell am I supposed to kill him if he knows everything?!"
He'd always assumed his teachers would be long-dead legends—maybe even mythical figures. The idea of pulling in living, breathing contemporaries had never crossed his mind.
[The system's top priority is protecting the Host. All functions serve that goal.]
[Grindelwald has signed a learning-space contract. He is bound by all system rules. Once his soul returns to his body, he will be unable to speak of the Host or anything learned here.]
Only then did Tom breathe a sigh of relief.
So even after Grindelwald left the space, he'd be magically gagged. No chance of him spilling secrets to Dumbledore.
Still, Tom grumbled, "Grindelwald is bad enough… what happens if Voldemort shows up next?"
As much as he hated the guy, Tom couldn't deny it—Voldemort had power. If the system summoned him…
[Detected]
[Host has strong aversion to current-generation magic users. Once second teacher reaches 100% Favorability, optimization will be triggered. Modern-era teachers will no longer be eligible for summoning.]
Finally. That put Tom at ease.
So no Voldemort. No Dumbledore. No more magical weirdos from his time.
He turned toward the two men—who had finally stopped exchanging pleasantries—and gave a polite smile.
"Mr. Grindelwald… I'm Tom Riddle. It's an honor to meet you."
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PS: Drop ur stones for bonus chapter