"This..."
The barely perceptible imprint was reflected in his eyes, occupying Malfoy's body, but Riddle seemed unaware. He only felt some discomfort in his eye and raised his hand to rub it.
Seeing this.
The mysterious black-robed man merely curled his lips into a strange smile.
The dark divine hall seemed like a long-abandoned ruin.
As if forgotten by time for many years.
In the vast hall covering thousands of square meters, there were only two people: one occupying Malfoy's body, Riddle, and the other calling himself Helbo, the serpent-faced wizard.
He was tall, shrouded in a large black cloak, exuding a cold and powerful aura, somewhat in harmony with the surroundings.
The walls here were made of rough black stones, with mysterious vines crawling all over them, twisting slightly in the gloom, as if alive. The air was filled with a damp and decaying smell, mixed with a faint sulfur scent that made one sick — perhaps because it was near Mount Vesuvius, which few dared approach.
Although Riddle was greatly impacted mentally and faced an unexpected shock, he, after recovering, had been secretly investigating his surroundings.
After all, for someone destined to become the Black Demon King, he was quite composed under changes. Yet, even so, he was greatly startled by the identity reveal of the one who forcefully shifted him here.
"Helbo... Legendary Wizard Helbo... How could this be, Helbo shouldn't be a figure of this era." Riddle's mind was tumultuous, filled with doubts about the identity of the person before him.
He was highly suspicious by nature, never trusting others' words lightly.
"It seems you know history well."
Helbo's voice echoed in the hall.
His serpent-like face bore a slight smile, clearly this wizard, who seemed far from righteousness, had undergone extreme magical modifications to his body, much like the future Voldemort.
No.
Perhaps it should be said that Voldemort's magical modification methods likely inherited the experiences passed down by Helbo, which was why Riddle was shocked upon seeing Helbo's serpent face.
"You mentioned I am your apprentice, of course I would know my teacher well." Riddle refrained from further questioning, even though he still chose not to trust the mysterious wizard before him. Besides being highly suspicious, the young Tom Riddle also knew how to gauge the situation.
"Hahaha, indeed, you must have collected a lot of my circulated works." Helbo seemed in a good mood, potentially due to not having been flattered in a long time.
Of course.
This could also be Helbo's disguise to make Riddle relax, to close the distance between them. No one could guess the nature of a Dark Wizard of this level.
Even Riddle, who started to self-claim as the Black Demon King, found it hard to grasp.
He could only cautiously speak, "I believe you must have saved my life from those Night Watchers, but I'm unclear why you chose to rescue me."
"Is it simply because I am your future apprentice?" Riddle wasn't puzzled by Helbo knowing his origin; powerful wizards could detect any subtle differences in others.
Faced with Riddle's question.
Helbo's lips curled slightly.
"Is this reason not enough? My beloved apprentice, you are the most intelligent and gifted child I've seen; naturally, I should cherish such a rare successor."
His tone sounded quite sincere, as if speaking genuinely, yet Riddle felt increasingly heavy-hearted. This young, ambitious Black Demon King dared not trust even a punctuation mark from Helbo.
"But I come from many years later."
Riddle expressed his distrust in a very subtle way. His sweating hand clutched the magic wand tightly, as though only it could provide him some sense of security.
"Is this important? No, it's not, little one. When you reach my level, you'll realize the span of time is meaningless; what matters are heritage and kindred spirits."
Helbo turned to the divine hall's window; through the vine-covered window, he overlooked the ancient city of Pompeii below the volcano and several other cities.
"Tom Riddle, or... Voldemort." Helbo spoke softly, clearly having accessed Riddle's memory, which infuriated Riddle yet he dared not act out.
"We are alike, truly. We've both seen how to exploit historical loopholes, how to achieve our goals amidst calamity, perhaps the only difference being I was born earlier."
"Thus, I first realized the value of time and history, while you, today, can only be called a newcomer to this domain."
Helbo's voice was low, carrying undeniable arrogance and disdain. Hearing this, Riddle's eyes flashed with unwillingness, but he quickly suppressed his emotions.
Even with Helbo turned away from him, Riddle still clung tightly to his magic wand, avoiding another sneak attack—perhaps such restraint only a sixteen-year-old possesses. This restraint stemmed from fear; if it were another period's emotionless Voldemort here, no doubt he would have rushed into battle without hesitation.