The Master strolled through another high wall of the Soul Maze. Seeming to sense something, he slowly came to a stop.
"Such intense fear. You seem ashamed of it. Why?" There was not the slightest hint of mockery in his voice; he was merely stating a fact.
"You should feel honored. After all, you are clearly a being of a lower order, yet the magic you cast can genuinely impede my movements."
"The material making up these high walls..." He spread his palm as though feeling something. "Are they personal experiences?"
"A dazzling variety of experiences... rich, yet chaotic." He raised a hand and traced the air, as if leafing through an open book. "You connected yourself to many people in order to achieve this. It is indeed interesting."
This somewhat casual assessment, as though he were commenting on homework, made Voldemort feel even more horrified.
The Master's guess was entirely correct. As Voldemort had continually refined this Soul Maze, he had incorporated the memories of the Squib Legion's members into it.
It was precisely because he had improved the Soul Maze to such an extent that he was confident that, once he had the opportunity to touch Vizet's soul, he could crush Vizet's Soul Maze in one stroke.
As though he knew what Voldemort was thinking, the Master said in his usual indifferent tone, "You are wrong. I did not guess. The magic you cast is plainly visible to me."
"I was also the first to create this sort of magic for protecting Gnosis. The magic you used earlier was likewise based on prototypes I bestowed."
"Most of the extensions and improvements you have made have not departed from the framework I created. Still, your application of Gnosis surprised me."
His tone remained unchanged, as if he were merely