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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.
"In that case, you should also know the motive behind the God of Death's actions?" Ian, watching Riddle's headless body bumping into walls, decided to stop his little prank and let the poor man be.
"Of course."
The "priestess" crossed one long leg over the other and let out a small laugh. "Everyone knows Its motive. Every action It takes, every arrangement It makes, every single thing It does has only one goal."
"And that is… to embrace this world, and to embrace the Creator, whether such a being exists or not." Her wording was extremely tactful, yet it still sent a chill through the young wizard's heart.
BOOOOM!
At that moment, A clap of thunder exploded, like some kind of warning, flashing in the skies above, yet the sound carried all the way into this deep underground place. The "priestess," calm only moments ago, visibly flinched.
"A warning," She muttered, a little regretful that she'd once again failed to keep her mouth shut.
"In any case, Herpo is indeed a troublesome one. Returning to this world in the form of the deceased, seeking to use disasters and his stolen nature to lay hands on the forbidden realm."
The "priestess" shifted the topic, her tone thoughtful, though she didn't seem overly concerned.
"You people shouldn't allow such a thing to happen, right?" Ian, sensing her attitude, looked at this member of the gods' ranks in puzzlement.
"If it is meant to happen, then it will happen. No one can stop fate." The "priestess" shook her head, her attitude one of complete detachment.
Just as the young wizard furrowed his brow and was about to speak, "My head won't go back on!"
Riddle, having finally found his head and tried to place it back on his neck, was now shouting in indignation when it refused to reattach.
"Ka-cha~"
The Priestess snapped her fingers and Riddle's head reattached to his neck.
"Considering that your filthy soul still has a shred of value…" The Priestess gave Riddle a look of disgust before turning her gaze back to Ian before her, who seemed lost in thought.
"Of course, if you don't stop him, perhaps Herpo really will change a great many things." It was obvious this was meant to impress upon Ian the consequences of leaving Herpo unchecked.
Merlin knew why she'd said it didn't matter one moment, only to offer such a warning the next.
"If Herpo has already done something like this in history, then even if we don't interfere, it's unlikely he could disrupt the future, right?"
"After all, to us, he already belongs to the past."
Ian was trying to piece his thoughts together.
"If you hadn't come to this era, that would be true. However, you have, and you've even delivered to him the person he desired. That is already creating a new future."
At these words, the Priestess shook her head.
Her tone was layered with meaning.
"What do you mean?"
Ian narrowed their eyes.
"He wants to become an Angel so he needs someone like himself, someone who also doesn't belong here, to become his Angel. Only then can he raise his divine throne, ignite the Divine Fire, and reach the heights he would otherwise have failed to attain at some destined moment."
The Priestess turned to look at Riddle, who was retching against a wall.
"In truth, Herpo didn't deceive you. He does intend to share his glory with you. However, it is as his Angel, as a part of himself, that you will share in that glory."
"You see, this is a common tactic of the most supremely evil beings: the sincerity they display is entirely genuine, yet the victim fails to realise that the sincerity they see is not the whole truth."
"The truth, in their mouths, always becomes a weapon."
Her slow, measured words made Riddle's entire body crawl, goosebumps rising on his skin.
Ian, on the other hand, could only give an awkward laugh.
He felt that this goddess was biased… but he didn't know how to refute her, and so, for once, he fell silent.
"Pardon me, I've been wanting to ask since earlier, just who are you? With such methods, such power, such knowledge, surely history would have recorded your name."
Riddle, swaying his head, which had just rolled dozens of times across the ground, felt a shiver of fear as he recalled his recent experience. The look he gave the Priestess was far from friendly, tinged heavily with irritation.
It was hard to say whether Riddle, at this moment, was already planning to remember this grudge for later.
The Priestess didn't care in the slightest.
Ian, however, found the perfect excuse to change the subject.
"She's one of the gods active in this era. Didn't you notice Priest Ryan has been kneeling there for half an hour?" Ian gestured to the completely forgotten Priest Ryan as he spoke.
Priest Ryan made a small noise to prove he wasn't dead. But Riddle didn't even glance at him, he was still feeling dizzy.
"Oh, so that's it. Just a god… Hmm, no wonder, " Riddle began with a tone of disdain, but halfway through, his groggy mind finally caught up.
His expression froze, and he hastily changed his words. Then, with a look uglier than crying, he turned to look at Ian.
"When can we go back? Or could you take me back first? I'm… actually starting to miss Azkaban. Really. Professor Dumbledore would surely give me the punishment I deserve."
Truth be told, the events since arriving in this era had gone far beyond not only Ian's expectations, but also those of the sixteen-year-old Voldemort, Tom Riddle himself.
He had never been this sincere before.
Compared to this era, Hogwarts, Dumbledore, even Azkaban, all of them felt worth longing for. At least there, there were no messy legendary wizards, no gods, no Angels.
He was only sixteen!
Even if he was the Dark Lord's past self, even if he was part of Voldemort, it was too much! Even if they pulled his future peak self here, the magic big shots of this place would still make him utterly ordinary!
Damn this savage age!
You could grab any random person here and they could be a more qualified Dark Lord than him, and even this little wizard chasing after him seemed more suited to this era than he was!
"You're not planning to leave me here without taking me back to face trial, are you?"
It was no wonder Riddle was uneasy. Looking at the little wizard before him, he couldn't help recalling how this kid enjoyed feeding other Voldemort fragments to an evil Phoenix.
That was hardly any less outrageous than Herpo's schemes.
If he'd had any other way out, he would never have walked right into the trap.
Now, Riddle could only hope that Hogwarts' "love and kindness" curriculum was still as dependable as ever.
(End Of This Chapter)