"Hmph. You want a show? I'll give you a show." The thought flashed through his mind.
Basil stepped forward, raising his wand above his brow.
A dark red, turbid current swirled around the surface of his wand.
His Magic Field began to rotate in sync.
The Troll had already reached the door.
The "Killing Intent"—clear as the sky, as Riddle had envisioned—was now fully realized within Basil.
Hidden beneath that turbid current.
He closed his eyes briefly.
Snapshot taken.
The image of the clumsy Troll, peering around with its club raised, surfaced in the [Magic Book].
Cha-ching!
Gems: 27,261.985 (-2000)
Inscription complete.
Summon Card [Troll] created.
This also signaled its imminent death.
Less than a second had passed.
ignoring the card details and the stream of information in his mind...
Using the 3D map of Hogwarts in his head, the wooden door seemed to vanish, and the Troll's tiny, bald head appeared right in front of him.
If he relied solely on a [Basic Attack], his single-hit damage was only 13.
Without using [Veritaserum Connoisseur] and its 50% True Damage...
Against a Troll with rock-hard skin and high Health Points, that probably wouldn't amount to much.
Even hitting a weak point like the head would likely yield the same result.
But right now, in this exact moment.
Killing Intent was buried deep in his heart. As his 'Mana' surged and spread to his nerve endings...
A baseless certainty and confidence welled up inside him.
He took a step forward and swung his right arm.
BOOM!
A massive hole was blasted through the wooden door, the edges charred and sparking.
Gray, white, green, and red paste, mixed with steaming chunks of flesh, splattered against the wall.
Filling the air with a stench of blood mixed with the aroma of roasted meat.
The wooden club and the headless Troll crashed to the ground with a thunderous thud.
The entire floor seemed to shake slightly.
In the Headmaster's office, a voice spoke from the silver mirror. "Decisive. It's a pity he didn't use that Devil's Snare. Rumor has it he used one to kill a werewolf?"
Dumbledore adjusted his glasses. "No, it was an ancient, powerful Sequoia that dealt the killing blow. It was originally ordinary, but it gained magic. If Muggles could also..."
His voice trailed off into a whisper.
Even Nicolas Flamel, using a superior Two-Way Mirror, couldn't hear the rest.
"What did you say?"
Dumbledore smiled. "I was saying, that boy's Magic Field just shifted. He didn't use the magic power of a Grand Wizard. Instead, he converted what ordinary wizards call 'magic power' into a more heterogeneous, conceptual existence. It wasn't a spell that blew the Troll's head off. He simply swung his arm, wielding that conceptual existence like a blade."
He closed his eyes. A holy, benevolent Magic Field, like a phoenix rising from the ashes, began to emerge on his body.
It felt as if a truly great and sacred phoenix had descended into the room.
Fawkes let out a melodious cry from his golden perch.
Zzzzt!
The image in the Mist Condenser began to blur.
The signal from the highly stable Two-Way Mirror, crafted by the greatest alchemist, Nicolas Flamel, began to fluctuate.
In an instant, all the delicate silver instruments in the office stopped working.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
Sparks exploded all over Dumbledore's body.
The tips of his silver-white beard and hair curled up mischievously.
Finally, the silver instruments in the room resumed their whirring and puffing.
The voice from the Two-Way Mirror became clear again, filled with curiosity.
"You failed just now?"
Dumbledore didn't bother fixing his appearance.
He didn't lose his composure; he accepted his failure calmly.
"Yes. It was clearly the same. But I got stuck at the final step. What exactly was it?"
As he spoke, he stood up.
Without waving his wand, the Mist Condenser turned off automatically, and the silver mirror drifted lazily back toward the cabinet.
His curled beard and hair straightened themselves out as he walked toward the office door.
Just as the silver mirror was about to enter the cabinet, he finished speaking.
"I must go. I am the Headmaster, and a major incident has occurred."
Finally, the cabinet and the door slammed shut simultaneously, creating a single, heavy thud that sounded like a fist pounding on a table.
Back in the bathroom.
Ron was clutching half a chicken leg, vomit all over the floor.
Harry was covering his nose.
Hermione was gripping the hem of Basil's robe, her face turned away, trembling slightly.
Basil stared at the wand in his hand, unable to believe he had just blown a Troll's head off with a single hit.
Especially when combined with the data of the Summon Card [Troll] now floating in his mind.
> [Magical Creature: Mountain Troll · Polymorphed]
> [Mana Cost: 6]
> [Level: 1]
> [Summons a slow-moving, polymorphed Mountain Troll with high Magic Resistance. When an enemy unit appears within sight, the Troll will attack by swinging its wooden club.]
> [Rock Armor (Body): 10]
> Note: Ignores damage below 3. Damage of 4 and above is reduced by the armor value.
> [Rock Armor (Head): 3]
> [Health Points: 30]
> [Magic Resistance: 7]
> [Single Swing Damage: 27]
> [Movement Speed: Slow]
> [Magic Book Level: 3 (1100/400)]
Aside from the rare mention of "Magic Resistance," this card explicitly displayed "Armor," or Physical Defense.
The System's Health Points calculation factored in physiological structure.
So, even though he attacked the head—the Troll's weak point—the damage required to take its life should have been at least 3 (Armor) + 30 (HP).
If it were pure Magic Damage, he'd have to account for Magic Resistance too, bringing the total to 40.
Unless Basil used the Killing Curse, which attacks the Health Bar directly.
Moreover, he didn't just take the Troll's life; he exploded its head.
The damage clearly overflowed.
Although Basil used [Dragon Knight].
The Troll wasn't a dragon, so he didn't get the 150% boost against it.
"So, was it a Critical Hit plus Critical Damage boost? 'Your spells will be filled with the power of the Red Dragon, blazing explosive force!' Does that include Attack Power too?"
Basil didn't think too much about it.
He could just ask the System Spirit later.
And suddenly!
BANG!
A violent crashing sound against the doorframe and loud footsteps approached.
The four people in the room looked up.
It was Professor McGonagall, closely followed by Snape and Quirrell.
They appeared beside the shattered wooden door and the headless corpse of the Troll.
"What on earth were you playing at?" Professor McGonagall said, her voice laced with cold fury.
Her lips were white, and her body was trembling.
Snape crouched down with interest, unhesitatingly examining the massive wound on the Troll's neck.
Quirrell narrowed his eyes, looking Basil up and down.
But his eyes were filled with pity and a sense of empathy.
And a hint of fear.
Clearly, he seemed to view Basil as a kindred spirit—another poor soul targeted by Voldemort, unable to escape, who had gained power far exceeding their previous capabilities.
The young Dark Lord is this strong... what am I supposed to do?
Unlike Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were rendered speechless...
Basil was incredibly self-righteous.
He even acted a bit angry. "Isn't Hogwarts supposed to be the safest place? Why is there a Troll inside? Hermione has been in the bathroom this whole time! Did none of you professors notice?"
He got more worked up as he spoke.
"Everyone knew she was here this afternoon!"
"But the moment there's danger, you all forgot about her!"
He squeezed out a few crocodile tears. "If... if we hadn't thought to bring Hermione some food, maybe... maybe she would be the one without a head right now!"