"Can I do better than Vizet...?" Voldemort slowly repeated the words, and the playful smile on his face vanished in an instant, leaving only pure coldness.
"Very good... Herpo, your plan is excellent." His voice sank. "But within this plan, there exists a... variable that has ruined things again and again."
His eyes stared straight at Herpo. "I will not be like you, thinking I have devised a perfect plan and already have victory in my grasp... only to end up utterly defeated."
Herpo's face suddenly twisted, and the muscles in his cheeks twitched violently.
Without question, Voldemort's words were like an icy dagger, piercing the deepest wound in his heart with precision and forcing him to face reality.
The plan Morgan le Fay had painstakingly constructed had clearly seemed so flawless. Who could have imagined... that Vizet Lovegood would actually find its weakness and completely dismantle it?
And in a way even he could not understand, leaving him with no clue at all when he tried to find a countermeasure.
After all, the strongest countermeasure he could use had been an attack personally launched by The Master.
If even an attack launched by The Master had failed to take effect, then the very foundation of the Isaiah Society had already been shaken.
Not long ago, those core members had already begun to question The Master's mighty power.
This forced Herpo to carry out a brutal purge and bring resources, including the souls of core members, before Voldemort to seek cooperation.
Even when he had faced Alexander III back then, or Serena Pendragon over nearly the past century, he had never suffered such a crushing defeat.
It was precisely this unprecedented defeat that made the most terrifying thought surface in his mind again—what if even The Master could not defeat