Ian, hearing this, only asked what might not even be an important question.
"He's under a Stupefy spell and can't wake up. Herpo tossed him into a locked room. But when I left, he was definitely still alive. I can sense that Herpo still has some other use for him."
Riddle gave his assessment, but seeing Ian's eyes still full of suspicion, he grew a little agitated. "I can let you view my memories."
"You've learned that magic, haven't you? I've gathered all the information about you." Riddle bent forward directly, pressing his temple right against the tip of Ian's wand.
"…"
Ian had dealt with Voldemort more than a few times, but he had truly never seen him like this before.
Watching Riddle leave his mind and soul completely unguarded, Ian became increasingly aware that the fear and panic in him might not be an act at all, Riddle had most likely encountered something that had genuinely terrified the Dark Lord to his core.
If not for that, Riddle would never have shown up on his own, nor would he be acting so open and honest right now.
"My mind's wide open, come on, look! Look at my memories!" Riddle even urged Ian, pushing his temple insistently against the tip of Ian's wand.
Most young wizards would be terrified their wand might scrape off a layer of dandruff.
"I think it would be safer if you read his mind instead. If these are forged memories or implanted ones, someone like you would definitely be able to tell."
Ian remained cautious. He turned his head toward the "priestess," who had been cracking walnuts the whole time, never saying a word, as though she were just watching a play.
"Me?" The priestess was caught off guard, looked a little dazed.
"Yes. I need you to do it." Ian spoke calmly.
He knew Her Highness the Goddess would find it difficult to disobey his order.
Sure enough, Though her face was full of reluctance, the "priestess" still tossed aside her walnuts and stood up. Without the slightest concern for her image, she wiped her oily hands on her clothing.
Well, It might not have actually been her clothing, but the clothing that belonged to the real priestess whose body she had borrowed. Possessing a body only to have to ruin its clothes, it had to be said that being a divine official wasn't exactly easy. The "priestess" sized up Riddle, walked toward the soul from the future, and did so with clear disdain.
"I'll tell you now, this is definitely not a wise idea. There's a reason we can't interfere too much in the mortal world. The more we meddle in mortal affairs, the faster the Twilight of the Gods will come."
"That would be the real disaster." Even as she gave Ian a brief lesson on hidden divine rules, the "priestess" still raised her hands, ready to press both index fingers to Riddle's temples.
Perhaps noticing walnut crumbs still on her fingers, the "priestess" casually popped them into her mouth and sucked them clean. This made Riddle recoil immediately, avoiding her hands with visible distaste.
"I don't want to catch some messy ancient disease. Sorry, it's not that I look down on you people, but I really am a clean freak. I've observed that most of you here don't even bathe once a month. That's absolutely not a healthy---" Riddle began to speak in open contempt, his tone finally regaining its usual arrogance.
However, He hadn't even finished his whining before the "priestess" rolled her eyes, crooked a finger, and Riddle's head promptly flew off his neck of its own accord.
Yes, His head and body separated completely, yet not a single drop of blood spilled. His facial expression remained active, while his body, still standing in place, flailed about in panic.
"What is happening?!" Riddle screamed in terror as his head landed in the "priestess's" hands. His eyes rolled wildly, and drool began to drip from the corner of his mouth.
It was obvious this "goddess" had a very rough way of reading memories. Given Riddle's earlier disdain, Ian, who was well aware of the black-robed skeleton's vengeful nature, immediately understood that this was simply the goddess's way of getting back at him.
About a minute later,
"He's not lying. He really did encounter Herpo… I remember that man, an astonishingly talented wizard who created a way to escape the God of Death, yet didn't even live as long as an average wizard should."
"Quite the unlucky fellow. Though… after he died, he seems to have had a stroke of incredible luck." After viewing Riddle's memories, the "priestess" turned to Ian and spoke with a tone of genuine reflection.
Her words effectively served as an endorsement for Riddle. After speaking, the goddess tossed Riddle's head back as though throwing away trash.
Only, she didn't return it to his neck, instead, she dropped it to the ground in front of his body. Perhaps out of pure mischief, she watched with great interest as Riddle scrambled around on the floor, searching for his head.
"Becoming what you call an Angel… the deceased returning?" Ian frowned, his face full of surprise. He hadn't expected Riddle to actually be honest for once.
This might also mean that Riddle truly had encountered a problem he couldn't possibly solve.
"I'd rather call it a stroke of luck. As everyone knows, the God of Death is unlike any other god you're familiar with. Even Hela and Hades don't dare to call themselves the God of Death."
"It is a pure embodiment of rules themselves, so it has no need for Angels. However, Herpo's soul truly did return to the mortal realm through the God of Death's power."
"Once, in the world of the deceased, there was a great war. The God of Death was defeated and shattered by the ruler of the land of the dead, and Herpo just happened to find a fragment of the God of Death's scattered power."
"You can think of this fragment as divine law. Of course, it's also possible that Herpo's discovery of it was part of the God of Death's own calculation and design."
"No one can say for sure…"
Faced with Ian's questions, the "priestess" was not speaking in riddles this time. However, the amount of information she revealed was still limited, and it didn't completely dispel the confusion in the young wizard's heart.
"I've heard more than once people speak of the God of Death like this." Many fragments of memory flashed through Ian's mind as he spoke. At the same time, he quietly used magic to make Riddle's head roll across the floor, before looking back toward the "priestess."
"But if, as you say, the God of Death is the embodiment of rules, then why would It do such things? And what about the mortal tale of the Three Hallows? That also involves Its shadow."
"You people in this era should have also heard the story of the Three Hallows and the three brothers?" Ian wasn't entirely sure about this point. He had studied the Hallows, but had never been able to find an exact historical date.
"You're underestimating me. Just because something hasn't happened yet doesn't mean I don't know it will happen. As long as I don't look toward my own endpoint, I can see every detail of history."
The "priestess," now seated once more and pulling out some walnuts, spoke in a light, casual tone, but her words made Ian look at her several times in deep thought.
(To Be Continued…)
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