That night.
In the Ravenclaw common room.
Snap.
Ethan closed his textbook.
He glanced at the time, let out a soft breath, and tamped down his bubbling excitement and anticipation.
He stood up and headed for the door.
It was time to deliver a little surprise to Hogwarts!
Surprises always arrived with such understated flair.
The common room was quiet and serene at night.
Students clustered in small groups, either reading or murmuring over bizarre riddles, scattering cracked eggshells across the floor.
They had no inkling of what was about to unfold.
When they saw Ethan leave, they merely flicked a glance his way and ignored him.
What?
You say the school rules demand students go out in groups?
Please—that's Ethan Vincent.
Ethan did whatever he pleased.
Still, one figure immediately rose and trailed after him.
It was Arthur.
Right now, his face was even paler than it had been at the start of term.
His eyes were shadowed with fatigue, and a glint of madness lurked in their hollow depths.
Everyone else claimed he was fixated on unmasking the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets.
Now, he'd even set his sights on the blameless Ethan.
Student A said, "I've learned more from Ethan's society training than from all my Defense Against the Dark Arts classes combined over the past few years! And I even got a bonus!"
"Round Table Council? Never heard of it, no idea."
Student B: "The Round Table Council is just garbage—not even worth a single hair from the Enlightenment Society."
Arthur paid no heed to these whispers.
He was convinced that if he caught the one opening the Chamber of Secrets, the Round Table Council would reclaim its glory!
And now.
Arthur fixed his gaze on Ethan's receding back, a powerful hunch stirring in his chest:
Tonight, he might uncover clues about the culprit!
Heh, maybe Ethan would be so careless that this time he'd get ambushed—
Arthur's lips twisted into a malicious smirk.
He didn't realize his thoughts were veering toward the extreme.
Up ahead.
Gurgle.
The eyeball concealed in Ethan's hair at the nape of his neck rolled around.
It spotted the figure who'd stealthily followed, cloaked in a Disillusionment Charm.
The corners of his mouth quirked up.
Coming along, little brother?
Shhh—watch your step.
The road to hell was unfurling slowly beneath his feet.
Just one more stride.
To test if his protective painting could hold up against the Basilisk's curse.
In the Chamber of Secrets.
"Ergani skirt."
Ethan whispered.
A thin white veil materialized over his head.
The pure white scales gleamed with a faint glow, shrouding his eyes without blocking his sight at all.
Whoosh. Ethan stood in the expansive Chamber of Secrets, drew a deep breath, closed his eyes, and blew into the snake flute.
A rasping trill echoed out.
The sound of scales scraping together emerged from the depths.
Growing louder bit by bit, drawing nearer.
Until Ethan's hand brushed against the cold, slick, enormous serpent's body.
"Hiss, hiss—"
The flicking tongue sounded right above his head.
Thump! Thump!
His heart hammered fiercely.
Ethan's lips curved, and he tilted his head up, slowly opening his eyes.
A pair of radiant, mesmerizing golden-yellow eyes entered his view.
The slit pupils contracted like needles, sharp as blades, stabbing straight into the gaze of anyone who dared meet them!
"Hiss hiss hiss!"
The Basilisk thrashed its head wildly and squeezed its eyes shut.
It couldn't fathom why its little master had suddenly opened his eyes.
After all, any creature that locked eyes with it would perish!
Yet.
A gentle chuckle rang out.
"Heh, no need to close your eyes, little snake."
"I no longer fear your stare!"
The Basilisk complied, opening its eyes in astonishment.
It met a pair of serene, profound, drill-blue eyes.
They gazed back unflinchingly, a brilliant spark dancing in their depths.
It stirred in the Basilisk a memory of a night sky it had nearly forgotten, from ages long past.
Back then, it hadn't been confined to the Chamber of Secrets.
It was still a young serpent.
It had journeyed over mountains and rivers with its great first master, Salazar Slytherin.
—So this is what its little master's eyes looked like.
They were truly stunning.
The Basilisk flicked its tongue joyfully and gingerly nudged Ethan's nose.
"Hahahaha."
Ethan couldn't help but burst into laughter.
He stared at those golden-yellow eyes with rapt fascination and pride, like a traveler who'd finally scaled a towering peak, or a warrior who'd at last vanquished a ferocious dragon.
He'd done it!
This painting, woven with a Guardian Spell, was potent enough to defy the Basilisk's curse!
Inspiration struck!
Ethan waved his hand, and the massive snakeskin canvas rose before him, his wand morphing into a paintbrush!
He looked up at the vacant eyes in the inky-black snake head.
With his other hand, he drew out the extraordinary material—radiance—as if plucking a tiny sun, instantly bathing the gloomy Chamber of Secrets in light.
The brush tip dipped into it, merging with magic.
Infusing the pristine white of the radiance with a vibrant golden yellow.
No hesitation required, for those golden eyes were already seared into Ethan's mind!
Snap!
The brush tip pressed firmly into the snake statue's eye socket.
He began to paint and outline swiftly!
Without a moment's pause.
In that instant, Ethan heard nothing else.
In his eyes, there was only the increasingly vivid, increasingly lifelike inky-black great serpent staring back at him!
In one fluid stroke!
Ethan halted with a flourish.
He panted and stepped back.
Gazing up at the golden eyes hovering in the inky-black haze!
The eyes were dotted!
In a flash.
An overwhelmingly malevolent aura erupted from the painting.
The air froze, turning thick and humid like sludge, making every breath a struggle.
"Hiss—"
Accompanied by a low, raspy tongue flick, the colossal snake head on the painting began to writhe slowly.
Inky-black scales slithered across the snakeskin canvas, as if emerging newborn from it.
Those eyes... those radiant and dazzling golden eyes!
They shone like a lantern ignited in the void, or a flame drawing moths to their doom.
Gleaming as brilliantly as gold, exquisitely beautiful.
But the creatures enticed by them remained oblivious.
What lay ahead was an even profounder abyss.
It was the abyss incarnate.
[Basilisk Painting Part One: Head]
[Grade: First Order · golden legend]
[Type: Living Painting]
[Description: One-fifth of the complete painting, the most crucial part]
[Effect: When existing alone, creatures gazed upon by its eyes will fall into a strong illusion, forced to undergo a sanity check; if failed, they will descend into madness; can leap out of the canvas as an attack method]
[When the five paintings are combined, the effect and grade will undergo earth-shattering changes]
[Warning! Current magic is insufficient to support the combination of five paintings! Please complete the promotion conditions first!]
Off to the side.
The original Basilisk coiled into a quivering ball, eyeing this gigantic creature that mirrored it.
Yet, it couldn't regard it as kin.
What... what manner of monster was this? Hiss, how could its little master be even more unhinged than the original master!!
The Basilisk regarded Ethan with reverence.
"Confirmed by the eyes, he is the true heir of Salazar Slytherin."
"Phew—insufficient magic—"
Ethan breathed heavily.
Truth be told, even without the system prompt, Ethan could sense it plainly.
His current magic was utterly inadequate for the ultimate grand scheme.
But no matter.
One of the promotion conditions—to host a grand art exhibition for someone not of this world.
It was already in place.
Creak.
A faint noise echoed from behind him.
Ethan's lips curled.
He waved his hand first, causing the snake in the painting to shut its eyes.
Then he blew the snake flute, commanding the original Basilisk:
"Retreat—"
A scraping trill.
The Basilisk obediently slithered back into the depths of its den, only hissing softly:
"Little master, be careful—"
Then.
Ethan turned and beheld the anticipated figure—Arthur, president of the Round Table Council!
At that moment, his face was as rigid as marble, etched with disbelief.
He stared at Ethan, as if witnessing the impossible, and muttered:
"Why are you here? This... this is the Chamber of Secrets?"
It was as though his mind had knotted itself up.
Ethan smiled at him, waiting for him to untangle his thoughts.
After a few seconds.
Arthur's eyes widened gradually, a ridiculous look of dawning comprehension spreading across his face.
Even if Headmaster Dumbledore performed a striptease right in front of him, it wouldn't shock him more than this!!
"You, you're the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets, the mastermind behind all of this?!"
"It's you—Ethan Vincent?!!"
His stunned cry reverberated through the vacant Chamber of Secrets.
Snap!
Ethan snapped his fingers crisply, nonchalantly transfiguring a button into a top hat, sweeping it to his chest, and bowing with playful elegance.
He looked up and grinned:
"Indeed, it is I."
Arthur was utterly dumbfounded.
He even wondered if everything before him was a hallucination.
That Ethan was toying with him!
How could this be?
How could Ethan Vincent be the one opening the Chamber of Secrets!
How could he be the architect of one horrifying incident after another?!
He was only in his second year!!
Arthur felt the world spin.
Then, he grasped a grave issue:
If Ethan was permitted to mature unchecked, he'd become an incalculably powerful adversary in the future.
And if.
He captured him now.
Not only could he shatter Ethan's prospects in an instant, but he could elevate his own standing.
Arthur steadied himself, a ravenous greed flashing in his eyes.
He clenched his wand tighter.
Ethan regarded this exemplary Ravenclaw student and said:
"Mr. Arthur, what if I told you that everything I'm doing is solely in pursuit of ultimate knowledge? And that no one will suffer any real harm."
At the last part, Arthur nearly lost control.
He thought of the heap of people still languishing in the infirmary; you've stripped them of their humanity, haven't you?
Ethan believed he hadn't misspoke.
After all, he'd merely used the radiance of light to cleanse the wicked thoughts from these people's hearts.
And it could aid them in becoming better individuals.
Wasn't that superior to the reckless slaughter in the original tale?
This was justice in action.
Ethan: "I respect the traditions of the Round Table Council. And I don't coerce students into joining my society."
"Given all that, do you really still want to make an enemy of me?"
Arthur sneered: "Are you begging for mercy? Not a chance!"
You'll become my crowning triumph!
Ethan didn't reply.
His eyes traced the thickening shroud of dark magic coiling around Arthur.
He said:
"Finally, I have one last question for you. Think it over carefully before you answer!"
Ethan's voice abruptly deepened.
The commanding weight in it made Arthur, who was itching to act, halt involuntarily.
Dimly, he even glimpsed a shadow of Headmaster Dumbledore in Ethan.
No.
It was more akin to—the Dark Lord, Grindelwald.
Ethan: "Did you come here, standing before me now, of your own free will?"
Of his own free will?
Arthur faltered.
Yes, but why had he become so fixated on Ethan?
The question flickered through his mind.
Arthur swiftly found the response.
Because he had to surpass Ethan.
By any means, he couldn't let Ethan—or the Enlightenment Society—flourish and seize the lead!
Arthur declared without a second thought: "Of course. Stop stalling!"
"Very well."
Ethan nodded slowly.
A cold, appraising glint entered his eyes as he regarded Arthur. "In that case, I won't hold back."
Ethan lifted his hand and gestured toward the closed-eyed snake head.
The snake's eyes opened.
The next instant.
Two blinding, unbearable beams of light, like the dawn of creation itself, erupted from the inky-black "mountain."
They blazed forth.