On the system panel, Demeter's Ritual Magic text was flashing wildly at an incomprehensible speed. Originally still short of reaching Silver level, but in just the blink of an eye, silver lustre had already spread completely across the display.
Even brilliant golden radiance then replaced it entirely. Silver level, Gold level. At this speed, even the Platinum level seemed easily breakable.
This thought had just emerged in Ciel's mind when, in mere seconds, all golden radiance on Demeter's Ritual Magic had transformed into platinum lustre. And this still showed no signs of stopping.
His heartbeat accelerated wildly. This was absolutely insane!
Previously, so many trolls had contributed faith power to him, yet it couldn't cause such massive changes to Demeter's Ritual Magic. But now, from the professors, especially that pale golden thread from Dumbledore, Demeter's Ritual Magic was ascending like a rocket.
"The faith power they're contributing certainly isn't fanatic devotion. It should just be being moved by me in this moment, like when I led Hufflepuff to Quidditch victory and the little badgers contributed some faith power."
"But even such shallow faith has such strong effects. Is it because the professors are extremely powerful, incomparable to ordinary wizards? And Dumbledore is an existence approaching mythical level?"
"No wonder in legends, Olympian-era beings worshipped as deities valued faith so much, especially heroes' faith. Some heroes in their magnificent epic careers could repeatedly receive divine assistance, even being guided to Olympus after death."
"Perhaps because the faith power they could provide was truly on a different level from ordinary people."
Now he showed anticipation. "Wonder what level Demeter's Ritual Magic will advance to this time, and what benefits it'll bring me?"
The previous advancement, Demeter's Blessing, had benefited him tremendously. This time might yield even more remarkable rewards.
Just then, as Demeter's Ritual Magic's lustre continued flashing rapidly, his sixth sense began producing a peculiar tingling sensation. Strange images appeared before his eyes, with distant sounds seeming to reach his ears.
He shook his head, thinking the mental strain from earlier had caused hallucinations now that he'd suddenly relaxed, combined with joy from Demeter's Ritual Magic's rapid growth.
But after activating Occlumency, the visions and auditory hallucinations didn't weaken at all. Instead, they became clearer with time.
Now his odd head-shaking drew tension from the newly arrived professors and Dumbledore. Professor Sprout's voice was hoarse with unprecedented anxiety:
"Ciel? Ciel?! What's wrong? Are you under some dark magic? Severus! Albus!"
As Professor Sprout sought help from Snape and Dumbledore, he wanted to tell her he should be fine. But then clear diamond radiance suddenly blazed on Demeter's Ritual Magic.
Instantly, Professor Sprout's concerned, anxious face slowly dimmed before his eyes. This dark underground Forbidden Forest also vanished from his senses.
Replacing it was an unknown place of deathly silence. Here, barren earth showed pale colouration, devoid of any life, as if shrouded by death itself. At the centre stood a towering, majestic but ruined temple.
Seeing the temple instantly reminded him of his Delia Island encounter. Though unsure how he'd mysteriously arrived here, he instinctively raised his vigilance to maximum. His Occlumency operated flawlessly, constantly guarding against powerful temptations like those from Delia Island's temple.
But soon he relaxed slightly. This temple's aura differed from Delia Island's eerie temple, lacking that spine-chilling feeling. Moreover, the temple's ruins bore no strange, intricate patterns that would inject forbidden knowledge into viewers' minds. Just damaged murals.
But seeing the murals' content made him raise an eyebrow. He'd seen these paintings many times before.
"These record the mythology of fertility goddess Demeter. Demeter's temple walls recorded her great achievements. The few surviving examples closely resemble these. So am I seeing Demeter's temple?!"
He showed a thoughtful expression. If so, this is related to Demeter's Ritual Magic's rapid advancement. Combined with his sixth sense's earlier tingling, he considered one possibility.
In more ancient times, those with a strong sixth sense were often considered specially gifted. Major temples' priests were typically such people. Under specific circumstances, they could hear divine oracles from Olympus.
These "specific circumstances" usually involved grand, solemn rituals. Perhaps his ritual magic's rapid advancement had met certain conditions, allowing him to receive "oracles"?
This was the only possibility he could think of. Then he glanced around, finding no system panel visible. This actually relieved him further. At least proving this wasn't reality but illusion-like, similar to the system's previous insight infusions. He wouldn't truly die if he encountered danger here.
So after brief hesitation, he began walking across this deathly pale land toward the temple. Growing confusion filled his heart. This was his second mysterious temple encounter. What did this represent?
Weren't Demeter temples still preserved in modern Greece? Where was this one?
Moreover, legendary Demeter was the fertility goddess. Lands near her temples should be incredibly fertile. Year-round flowers that never withered, fragrant fruits even deities would covet.
But this Demeter temple, ruined aside, how did the surrounding land relate to fertility? He carefully crouched down, gathering some soil. The sensation was even colder and more lifeless than it appeared.
In both lives, he had never encountered such soil. No warmth, no life, seemingly lacking even insects or microorganisms. Thoroughly dead earth.
It's hard to imagine such soil surrounding Demeter's temple. He even felt absurdly that this was "like a prison for the fertility goddess. Or perhaps, an instrument of torture?"
His thoughts grew increasingly scattered. He quickly shook his head, dismissing these groundless speculations. Regardless of truth, this clearly exceeded his current level of access. What good would knowing do?
Past experience taught him that learning too much about powerful beings' affairs was inadvisable. Thinking this, he even stopped approaching the temple out of subconscious curiosity, slowly backing to his original position.
Having just survived the most troublesome first year, with relatively peaceful years ahead, there is no need to worry about encountering noseless monsters while tending his greenhouse at night. He didn't want mysterious complications now.
Even confirming this was an incredibly realistic illusion, he chose caution. But as he retreated, the voice from his earlier auditory hallucinations returned.
This time from within the temple, no longer distant and unclear but thunderous, shaking earth and air. He showed a startled expression. He recognised it as a female voice. An anxious female voice.
Mere speech like thunder? What was this, mythical level? Was Demeter alive inside the temple?
When he paused without responding, the female voice emerged again from the temple. He was first shaken physically, then showed a helpless expression.
This language was obviously powerful, magically imbued speech. Like the current magical world's Draconic, Mermish, or Parseltongue, all are considered uniquely magical. This female voice's language was probably far more advanced than Draconic.
But he couldn't understand it! The speaking entity seemed to realise this from his reaction. After a brief silence, she switched languages. He stood bewildered.
After a longer silence, she used another more primitive language, its magical content drastically reduced compared to the first. Clearly, the speaking entity was really trying to accommodate downward.
This made him feel somewhat embarrassed. He stammered some ancient Hebrew. Now it was the temple entity's turn for silence.
Long after, a lengthy, powerless sigh emerged, filled with unmistakable exhaustion. He awkwardly rubbed his nose:
"Um, I roughly remembered the characteristics of your earlier languages. After leaving, I'll study them. Next time there's an opportunity, let's communicate then."
Then he added: "For now, could you let me leave here? I have family and friends waiting for me. If I stay too long, they'll worry terribly."
The temple fell silent. Just as his heart sank, considering escape methods, a weak emerald light flew from the temple, settling on him.
He was initially startled but soon felt a vigorous life force spreading within him. Though this life force was minor compared to his post-sublimation Legendary Life total, its level was actually higher?
It gave him a warm, spring-like soaking sensation and secure feeling of earth's embrace. The continuous days of pressure and tension from condensing the World Tree Patronus and the earlier Forbidden Forest trial's deadly combat all gradually eased and calmed.
Though unsure what this power was or why it worked in illusions, he sensed no problems. At least he could confirm the temple entity bore no malice.
Regardless of whether she understood, he softly said: "Thank you."
Now the temple entity seemed to sense something. Her previously subdued voice suddenly rose high, even crying and laughing while speaking lengthy words he completely couldn't understand.
But soon, this strange scene, including the temple, began dimming and dispersing. Familiar sights returned to his view. Hogwarts' hospital wing. He lay on a bed here.
The sounds reaching his ears were no longer the temple's thunderous, incomprehensible words but Professor Sprout's concerned calls: "Ciel. Ciel..."
When his gaze met Professor Sprout's bloodshot, exhausted eyes, she nearly wept with joy: "Thank heavens. Merlin above. Three days, three whole days, you've finally awakened!"
He noticed Professor Sprout's voice was hoarse beyond recognition. Warm currents surged in his heart. So three days had passed since receiving the "oracle"?
During these three days, he probably appeared completely unconscious to others. Had his aunt been calling to him all this time, trying to wake him?
He reached out, wiping tears from Professor Sprout's eyes. Then his hand was gripped tightly by her, as if she had lingering fears:
"Ciel, promise me, never do such dangerous things again."
Without hesitation, he nodded seriously: "Don't worry, Aunt. Never again."
He silently added: "Except the final time, killing Anthony Dolohov." But by then, it probably wouldn't count as dangerous.
After Professor Sprout's emotions somewhat recovered, he asked: "What about the other little badgers? And other students? Are they alright?"
Professor Sprout nodded: "Besides shock and some scrapes and bruises, no further harm. Most seriously injured might be Harry. He did something very risky and is still unconscious, but not life-threatening."
Hearing the students were fine, he finally completely relaxed. As for Harry, the Philosopher's Stone, and the two-faced man, he asked nothing.
He knew well: the more questions asked, the more interest shown, the deeper one sank. Only complete disinterest ensured staying truly uninvolved.
Let Dumbledore and the saviour handle these matters. None of his business. Moreover, if after causing such chaos at Hogwarts, Dumbledore still let the two-faced man escape with the Stone, what kind of Light Lord would he be?
Might as well find some tofu and bash his head against it! He didn't mention these things, nor did Professor Sprout. She truly didn't want him recalling these events.
After all, many students who experienced this were still trembling in nightmares. Hogwarts was filled with a panicked atmosphere. This was an encounter that could leave lifelong trauma.
To avoid affecting students' psychology, professors had spent three days mostly casting Memory Charms, temporarily making students forget these memories. But the accompanying panic emotions probably couldn't be quickly processed.
Fortunately, Dumbledore finally did something decent, promising to find an excellent wizard skilled in Memory Charms and Dark Arts defence next term. After another school year's reinforcement, this incident's effects should completely fade from students.
Thinking this, Professor Sprout's anger and resentment toward Dumbledore finally calmed somewhat. But just then, coincidentally, a tall figure appeared at the ward entrance.
It was Dumbledore. His face was frighteningly haggard. Seeing Ciel, he managed a slight smile. But before speaking, Dumbledore saw Professor Sprout's stimulated, furious expression:
"You still want to discuss this matter? Don't even think about it! Get out!"
Dumbledore paused, smiled bitterly, then after a moment nodded: "Alright. I'll wait outside."