Purple Epic!!
Ethan's eyes widened slightly, and his breathing hitched.
Looking at this evaluation, he was first stunned, then filled with immense joy!
It was not in vain that he had gone to such lengths and spent so much for this.
He had integrated everything to create this mural!
Ethan turned his head, and what met his eyes was a painting that occupied an entire wall!
An iron-black gate hung high above, and a stone-paved floor, depicted in yellow and gray, led into a deep, dark abyss.
A scent of ancient history assailed him, mixed with the smell of mold and grime, which was quite overwhelming.
Though it was a flat surface, upon closer inspection, his gaze could penetrate beyond the winding corridor, and his legs involuntarily drew him closer to it.
This is our Saen amusement park, truly joyful and delightful—do you have such a Saen amusement park?
[Saen Ancient City]
[Type: Mural]
[Grade: Tier 2 · Purple Epic]
[Description: Hidetaka Miyazaki's childhood path home]
[Effect: Allows people to truly enter it, experiencing torment and pain; unless the canvas is destroyed, it will exist forever; cannot be retrieved or transferred]
[Evaluation: You have replicated history]
[One of the conditions for Painting Skill Level 3 promotion has been met!]
[Condition 1: Draw a Tier 2 Purple Epic painting (Completed)]
[Condition 2: Hold a grand art exhibition for an entity that does not exist in this world]
[Condition 3: Unlocked]
[Soul Fusion increased by 1%]
[44% → 45%]
"Whoosh!" Ethan half-closed his eyes.
He felt the fatigue in his body vanish as his soul fusion increased.
His magic was replenished, like leveling up in an adventure game, his health bar refilled.
Comfortable! Not only that.
He had also met one of the conditions for advancing to Level 3 Painting Skill.
Thinking that his strength could be further improved, Ethan couldn't help but get excited.
He wished he could stuff a few more monsters into the ancient city.
Unfortunately, he hadn't developed any mimic chests this time.
Ethan hadn't found suitable contents.
Perhaps, it was time to let Hagrid proceed with the Blast-Ended Skrewt cross-breeding experiment ahead of schedule....
Presumably, that would surely bring more joy to the world.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, do you like this painting?"
Ethan asked sincerely, his eyes shining with pure light:
"Unless Hogwarts collapses, this mural will stand here forever, immortalized alongside it, an eternal legacy."
"Would you like to come in and play?"
Dumbledore: "...Thank you for your warm invitation, Mr. Vincent. But I think this old man should pass; let's leave the opportunity to the young ones."
As he spoke, Dumbledore himself chuckled.
It seemed another restricted area would be added to the school.
But for those perpetually restless young lions, the more they were forbidden from doing something, the more they would want to do it.
Like the Weasley Twins, who were always breaking school rules.
This ancient city, perhaps in the future, could truly become a great wonder of Hogwarts—no, its existence was already an incredible "wonder."
Dumbledore gazed at the magnificent mural he had witnessed being painted from scratch, bit by bit, with pigments, and his heart was deeply moved.
"...I am willing to offer five thousand Galleons as a commendation for your outstanding contribution to Hogwarts, what do you say, Mr. Vincent?"
Dumbledore winked at Ethan.
Five thousand Galleons!!!
Ethan immediately turned his head and squinted.
He felt as if the old Dumbledore in front of him suddenly began emitting dazzling golden light, making it difficult for him to look directly.
"I'm starting to respect you, Headmaster Dumbledore," Ethan said seriously.
Only now?
Dumbledore stiffened, a million words he wanted to say in his mind.
But in the end, he just shook his head and chuckled, "Thank you, Mr. Vincent. The best time to start something, besides the past, is now."
Dumbledore looked at the handsome, steady little boy in front of him with kind eyes.
He recalled an old friend.
...Very similar.
However, Ethan did not have a fanatical desire for power and authority; he was merely an innocent child who loved art—
Ethan: "Oh, by the way, Headmaster Dumbledore. I also want one more thing."
He looked up and asked sincerely, "Can you give me the Philosopher's Stone? I want greater power."
Then, Dumbledore's originally relaxed and gentle smile.
Froze.
The next day.
"Five thousand Galleons?!!!"
Ron's juice flowed like a river from his mouth.
He stared wide-eyed, disbelievingly at Ethan, who casually said, "I sold a painting for five thousand Galleons."
He felt as if the other party was already a superior being he couldn't look directly at.
Harry pushed up his glasses and added, "And it's just for the right to use it. To be precise, it's Headmaster Dumbledore's appreciation and sponsorship for Ethan."
Hermione thought: It's indeed part of the talent cultivation plan... How can I join this great plan?
Weasley Twins: "Ronnie, sweetie Go hug Ethan's leg"
"Hug with both hands—"
"Kneel and hug—"
Ron's face turned red, and he bristled with anger: "Shut up—"
"Shh!" the Weasley Twins suddenly said, excitedly squatting down to hide, "He's here!"
The "he" here referred to Professor Quirrell.
Professor Quirrell was seen trudging through the snow,
His figure was like a paper cutout, sallow and emaciated, as if the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts had drained all his vitality.
However, at this moment, his face glowed with an unconcealed ecstasy.
As if something he had been waiting for had finally arrived.
Until a "thump!"
The Weasley Twins threw a snowball, hitting Professor Quirrell on the back of his head, which was wrapped in a turban, and burst into laughter.
Ethan kindly handed them a snowball.
"Thanks, brother!"
The Weasley Twins took it and, with the skill of a Quidditch Beater, threw it forcefully at the back of Quirrell's head.
"Thump!"
With a dull thud, Quirrell fell backward directly.
From the turban on the back of his head, a dark red liquid slowly seeped out.
Weasley Twins: ???
They stopped their movements in a daze.
They looked down and peeled open the snowball Ethan had handed them—only to see a hard stone, the size of a palm, wrapped inside.
They turned their heads and saw Ethan meticulously wrapping stones in snow, like a chef making pies.
Weasley Twins: !!!
They just wanted to play a prank, not murder!
"Why didn't you stop Ethan?!" George and Fred looked at Harry, Ron, and Hermione in shock, "You guys just stood there and watched?"
Harry stammered in a daze, "I, I thought you guys had already discussed it..."
Hermione said profoundly, "Ethan must have his reasons for doing this."
Ron nodded vigorously beside her.
Weasley Twins: "..."
It's hopeless, let's ask Mom to restart a new account.
However, to their surprise, Quirrell did not pursue them.
Instead, after struggling to get up from the ground, he merely gave them a gloomy glare before quickly running away.
Ethan stood up and brushed the snow from his gloves.
Watching Quirrell's hurried back, he slowly spoke:
"Do you know? Headmaster Dumbledore isn't here today. He was called to the Ministry of Magic by a letter."
He turned, and in the gaze of Hermione, who suddenly frowned and seemed thoughtful, and the others, who looked bewildered, he raised the corner of his mouth:
"This means... tonight, we can have a very interesting big adventure."
That night.
Forbidden section on the fourth floor.
A harp played by itself, and Fluffy the three-headed dog was fast asleep beside it.
Quirrell bypassed the unconscious troll—a protective barrier he had set up himself—and leisurely walked forward.
His expression was cold and clear, completely devoid of his usual dull and stammering demeanor.
"Such simple protection, no difficulty at all... Now there's only that annoying dark bat's test left... Master, I'll get the Philosopher's Stone for you very soon!"
"But, when did a mural appear here...?"
Quirrell looked at the magnificent and grand ancient city mural, and a primal sense of fear and resentment arose in his heart.
"Ethan Vincent... That damned brat... When I get the Philosopher's Stone and revive the Master, I will definitely make you beg me to kill you...!"
Quirrell was immersed in his beautiful fantasy, unable to resist a wide grin.
But at this moment.
He found that the physical door that originally led to the next room had turned into a painted door.
"...What is this?"
Quirrell frowned, the overly familiar painting style causing cold sweat to break out on his forehead.
He tentatively reached out and pushed it.
Only to see a line of text appear—
[The door cannot be opened from this side.]
Quirrell: ???
The next second.
"Ah!"
He screamed and was sucked into the mural!
After a pungent smell of paint, he fell onto the cold, hard stone floor.
He looked up, and a giant iron gate with spikes, like a guillotine, stood above him.
Inside the iron gate, the dark and cold interior emitted a damp and putrid smell.
As if it were a long-abandoned cesspit full of filth.
Quirrell looked down in confusion and saw a line of advice written on the stone bricks in front of him:
[Welcome to Saen Ancient City]
[Philosopher's Stone ahead]
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