"Such knowledge will corrode the soul of those with an unsteady mind." He wasn't trying to scare people, but Dark Arts indeed have the power to affect those who come into contact with it.
Of course.
It pales in comparison to the pollution of Cthulhu.
"My mind is quite steady. I believe that only I can influence Dark Arts, not the other way around." Ririm dismissed Ian's warning.
"Alright, alright, you act as the Fourth Black Demon King then." Ian listened to Ririm's dismissive words and felt he might have discovered a hidden talent within Hogwarts.
"Who's the third? Is it you?"
Ririm seemed mildly interested.
"The Third Black Demon King is obviously the Third Black Demon King. You'll know who it is when they reveal themselves." Ian felt he shouldn't tarnish his uncle's reputation prematurely.
He glanced at the writing on the wall and began to shift the conversation.
"Do you think we should disturb the professors' peaceful sleep over this?" This clearly suggestive remark was immediately grasped by Ririm.
He promptly shook his head.
"If you don't want to be investigated, doubted, and burdened with rumors, the best course is to pretend you didn't see it. I think the professors will also notice the anomaly here by tomorrow."
"Whether they see it as a prank or something else, it doesn't concern us students." Ririm and Ian exchanged a knowing glance.
Their tacit understanding was unspoken.
"Exactly, exactly, I can't afford more rumors, let the professors handle it instead of us. Whoever left these words here certainly doesn't have the ability to cause a great stir right now." Ian's judgment was not without reason; only those who bluff would do such intimidating acts.
True hard-core individuals.
Would never give any warning or premonition before committing heinous acts.
"I have business to attend to, you continue standing here, have a chat with our door knocker when you get back, it'll be good for you." After taking a photo of the wall, Ian prepared to leave.
He felt Ririm might have favorable looks, so he hoped Ririm could bond with the door knocker. In doing so, perhaps the neurotic bronze eagle head might switch its affections.
"No problem."
Ririm hadn't expected Ian's "malicious" intentions.
He watched Ian prepare to leave.
"You don't seem interested in becoming the Black Demon King, nor do you care much for the pure-blood clan's support, I think you're aware of what position our families wish to push you toward."
The blond boy suddenly spoke to Ian, showing a judgment and mindset beyond his age, which should be the maturity a descendant of Pure-blood Nobility should possess.
"Please elaborate?"
Ian halted, the heavy rain outside continued to pelt down as he turned to look at Ririm standing afar, his eyes with traces of theatrical confusion.
Ririm wasn't fooled by Ian's feigned ignorance.
"You know it, you've always known… Wizards desire a king, and you are their new choice, but while you accept their goodwill, you seem unwilling to bear this responsibility."
"Believe me, this is not good. There's no free lunch; if you can't give them the future they want, the more they exalt you now, the more they'll oppose you later."
Ririm appeared to be advising and cautioning Ian.
But.
The Little Wizard paid no heed.
"My dear junior, you're talking about things at your age you shouldn't be discussing; knowing things at your age you shouldn't.…"
Ian first gave Ririm a long look.
Offering an evaluation from the bottom of his heart.
Then he shifted his tone and began to respond to Ririm's inquiry.
"Of course, I know that gaining something requires paying a price; I just don't want to become the person you expect, but, this doesn't mean I can't fulfill your wishes." Ian wouldn't normally discuss such matters with peers, but he had realized Ririm's slight uniqueness.
"What do you mean?"
Ririm raised his eyebrows, his eyes flickering slightly upon hearing the Little Wizard's answer.
"Very simple, I indeed don't want to be arranged by you, but I also admit I'm very willing to accept the benefits you offer, so I've come up with a good win-win-win solution."
Bathed in the glow of firelight, Ian's smile appeared somewhat disingenuous.
"Oh?"
Ririm showed an expression of surprise.
As if using his golden eyes to curiously inquire.
"You want a king, so I'll provide you with one, but that king doesn't have to be me… this way, everyone wins, everyone gets what they want." Ian's expressions were not spur-of-the-moment revelations of thoughts; he had long harbored this idea.
"Give us a king…"
Ririm's eyes narrowed slightly at these words.
However.
The somewhat profound expression faded quickly.
"Shouldn't this just be called a win-win? Who else wins?" He seemed somewhat distracted after coming to his senses, his puzzled tone full of curiosity.
The Little Wizard immediately smiled brightly.
"No, it's a win-win-win; whether or not I find a place to win, I'm bound to win twice anyways." Ian's response left Ririm with his mouth agape, unable to speak for a long time.
He truly didn't know what to say; how could there be such absurd people in this world? Just as Ririm seemed to have formed a new understanding of Ian again.
"Alright, it's getting late; I have to study now." Ian waved at him, lifted his foot, winding down the corridor towards the Professor of Alchemy's office.
His silhouette vanished into the night where lightning and fire blended.
Moments later.
"What does it mean to give all wizards a king? That guy is truly arrogant." A multicolored nightingale slipped silently out of Ririm's embrace.
Its tone was somewhat displeased.
Evidently, it had listened to the entire conversation between Ian and Ririm.
"I don't find anything wrong; it's just unexpected… Hmm, maybe this is normal; subconscious recognition is still influencing him."
Ririm's gaze remained fixed on the spot where Ian departed.
His thoughtful voice bewildered Little Nightingale.
"What subconscious recognition? Heard ghost stories about the Wizard King as a child?" Admittedly, this little bird with a tender voice had a rather eccentric way of thinking.
Its complaint didn't receive an immediate response from Ririm.
The blond boy turned to look out the window—the corridor lighting was dim and warm, contrasting boldly with the outside world. Outside, the sky seemed torn apart in anger; thunder, rain intertwined; strong winds wreaked havoc; raindrops beat against windows and rooftops like dense drumbeats, creating urgent, powerful sounds.
"The subconscious is a very interesting thing; it can be even more persistent than memories; my 'senior' is probably subconsciously resisting becoming the king of all wizards."
"His words, his thoughts, they're confirming this; he doesn't want to bear the duties of a king but is quite willing to exercise what most people wouldn't dare to wish for."
A bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, like the sword of a deity, splitting the darkness, illuminating the entire world, and highlighting Ririm's furrowed brow and deep eyes.
"Huh? What the hell does that mean? Speak plainly! No! Say something the bird can understand!" Nightingale felt as though her little brain wasn't quite up to task; she just sensed the blond boy's voice carried a certain tone of reflection.
"Don't understand yet? My friend."
Ririm's eyes reflected the arc of lightning in the sky.
"This called, kingly wealth cannot rival… divine right."
The thunder rolled.
Amidst the rumble.
The blond boy whispered softly, sharing his innermost views.
...