22: Talent! And a Gift!

Ian felt as though he were a balloon—filled to the brim with things that did not belong to him.

"I am no longer clean!"

A surging, oceanic wave of murderous intent churned within Ian’s small head. His reason was almost entirely suppressed, and the boundless killing intent felt like a flood in desperate need of an outlet. Perhaps it was Teacher Mara guiding him; perhaps it was mere biological instinct.

Upon hearing Teacher Mara’s instruction, Ian cast the incantation without a shred of hesitation.

"Avada Kedavra!"

It was almost a roar. Ian had never imagined he would cast the Killing Curse under such circumstances. As the incantation resonated, his magical power and murderous intent converged, flowing toward his fingertips and into that nameless wand. The green light illuminated the entire castle, shining like a meteor—dazzling, brilliant, and devastatingly powerful.

It was a pity that the area at which Ian’s wand was aimed contained neither living creature nor soul; there was only a weathered, mottled, grey-blue wall. Since the spell only affected living beings, it naturally did not damage the texture of the wall. Even so, the green light spread across the stone like a spiderweb, flickering for a long moment before gradually dissipating.

As the murderous intent instilled by Teacher Mara was released, Ian’s reason regained its footing. Beside him, the witch appeared quite satisfied with the result.

"It seems your dullness is limited to certain areas. At the very least, you possess a talent for magic that surpasses many," the witch remarked, offering praise without reservation.

"My goodness!"

Ian stared at the fading green light on the wall, unable to believe he had cast such a spell. He, an eleven-year-old wizard who had not even stepped foot into Hogwarts to begin his studies, how could he have possibly cast such a wicked and terrifying curse? The Killing Curse! The first of the three Unforgivable Curses! A spell that made countless people turn pale at the mere mention of it!

Had he really learned it so easily? If there were such things as born kings and generals, could it be that there were also born prisoners of Azkaban? Ian knew, of course, that the primary reason his Killing Curse had such power was the murderous intent Mara had poured into him; everyone knew the potency of the curse was inextricably linked to that intent.

However, even with that factor, it did not change the fact that he had indeed mastered the Killing Curse.

Name: Ian Prince
Occupation: Blood Warlock
Magic: Level 4
Skills: [Lumos (Level 1): 76/100], [Wingardium Leviosa (Level 1): 11/100], [Avada Kedavra (Level 1): 7/100]...

The interface did not lie. After just one casting under Teacher Mara’s guidance, Ian had directly mastered a Level 1 Killing Curse and even gained seven points of proficiency! What did Level 1 represent? It meant that even without his teacher’s assistance, he could now cast the most basic form of the curse, and the profound insights into the spell had become knowledge stored within his mind.

"An Unforgivable Curse? Teacher Mara, you call this a simpler spell?" Ian remained immersed in shock and mental paralysis, feeling little of the joy one usually experiences when learning a new spell.

"In my day, your definitions did not exist." The witch walked to the wall and stroked it gently, causing the lingering green light and the slight cracks to vanish entirely. "Out in the world, a wizard who cannot even cast the Killing Curse is typically nothing more than a lamb for the slaughter." Her explanation was unexpectedly difficult to refute.

In Ian’s view, Teacher Mara was, at the very least, a witch from before the Middle Ages. For a wizard of that era, learning a few Killing Curses before heading out did seem to have some... logic to it?

"Remember how this feels," the witch said, turning to admonish him. "This magic requires intense murderous intent. Though you don't look like the type to grow up to be a good person, it is not easy for a wizard of your age to possess such intense malice. I suggest you try hunting some animals; that can also help you accumulate the intent needed for the spell."

"Of course, it cannot compare to killing a human, or the malice directed at one's own kind. If you could kill a person with your own hands, perhaps you would truly master this magic."

The witch clearly had not grasped Ian’s learning progress, and her patient instruction carried a hint of seduction. As expected, a witch who would teach her apprentice the Killing Curse right out of the gate could hardly be a kind, white witch. Ian’s previous intuition about this teacher had likely been correct.

"Very well, I shall take up a part-time job as an animal butcher..." Ian, of course, would not adopt her final, offhand suggestion. He was no Voldemort, willing to stop at nothing for power. Besides, he had already mastered the spell; he did not need to accumulate further malice to cross that threshold. However, he felt he shouldn't tell the witch this.

It wasn't a matter of keeping a hidden card. Why consider such complex problems in the Phantom Realm? Aside from Ian, he had never heard of anyone who could communicate with the souls of the Phantom Realm. Even if any secrets were exposed here, it would have no impact on his life in the real world. He simply didn't want to tell the witch this startling fact because her opinion of him was already poor enough; he didn't want to reinforce her belief that he "didn't look like a good person."

After all, even with the witch's unique teaching methods, a wizard who could learn the Killing Curse on the first try would surely be considered exceptionally gifted in Dark Magic, would they not?

Hmm. If Voldemort were here, might he even call him an expert?

Looking at the seven points of proficiency on his interface, Ian wished he could make such rapid,千里-like progress in his other magical studies.

"Teacher Mara, could you teach me another spell? One that is slightly less dangerous..." Ian felt the progress of the Killing Curse might have been a special exception.

"Greed," the witch replied in a cold tone. However, the next moment, she suddenly let out a soft laugh. "But greed for knowledge is not a bad thing, nor is it something that invites disgust." Clearly, Ian’s "thirst for knowledge" happened to be the kind the witch greatly admired.

Yet, faced with Ian’s joyful gaze, the witch did not begin a new lesson. Instead, she smiled brightly and spoke in a teasing tone. "Are you sure you still have enough time to learn a new spell?"

Perhaps this teacher possessed some means to perceive how long Ian could remain in the Phantom Realm. Almost as soon as she finished speaking, Ian began to feel the surroundings blurring.

"Ah!?"

Ian’s figure began to fade. Everything around him seemed to be drifting away. At the moment his soul was about to depart from this sanctuary, he saw, through a blur, the witch tear a corner from her gown. She inscribed something onto it with her finger and placed it into Ian’s hand.

"Consider it homework."

"My dear apprentice, do not let me down..."

The phantom realm vanished. Reality returned. When Ian opened his eyes and looked at the clock, the witch’s expectant whisper seemed to still echo in his ears.

He sat up and raised his hand. Having crossed the boundary between life and death, the fragment of the gown, bearing ancient knowledge, lay quietly in his palm, shimmering with a brilliant, silver luster under the moonlight.