Five Years in a Flash

Tom's whisper, like a pebble dropped into a still lake, sent ripples spreading through Ares' heart. The completion of the "Cornerstone of Trust" task brought not only rewards but a subtle shift in atmosphere. The invisible wall between them, though still towering and thick, seemed to have opened a tiny window, allowing a sliver of faint light and air to pass through.

Days passed, seasons changed, and the trees outside the Wood Orphanage windows turned green, then yellow, then bare. War clouds gathered over the European continent, but for this corner orphanage in London, the greatest war remained daily survival and the silent infighting within.

Yet for Ares and Tom, these five years—from 1932 to 1937—were not entirely bleak. Time, like a silent river, carried them along, quietly shaping something solid amid seemingly repetitive routines.

[Five-Year Growth Montage Loading...(′▽`???) Host, please check key milestones!]

Fragment One: A Bridge of Knowledge

After that "secret sharing," Tom's attitude toward Ares entered a new phase. He no longer merely observed and measured but began to "use" him to a limited extent. At first, it was words.

Tom discovered that Ares seemed extremely unfamiliar with English reading and writing (Ares: After all, I'm essentially a Chinese speaker!), while Tom himself, through eavesdropping on school lessons and self-study, had already surpassed his peers in literacy.

One day on the rooftop, Tom shoved a crumpled old primer into Ares' hands, his tone carrying his characteristic, alms-giving coldness: "If you can't even read this, how will you help me figure out those 'things' later?"

Ares paused, then took the book. He understood this wasn't pure kindness but Tom's utilitarian investment—an illiterate "kindred spirit" was of limited value to him. Still, it was an opportunity.

[Host!(★ ω ★) The target is teaching you to read! Though his motives aren't pure, this is huge progress!]

Thus, the starlit rooftop classroom occasionally became a literacy lesson. Tom was a harsh teacher—impatient, sharp-tongued—but Ares, with his adult comprehension and system assistance, learned quickly. When he haltingly read out a simple sentence, a faint, barely perceptible satisfaction would flicker in Tom's eyes, unnoticed even by himself.

Literacy opened a door to a broader world of knowledge. Tom began finding discarded books on mysticism, history, even basic science, from junkyards or library corners. Like greedy sponges, they secretly absorbed nutrients in unnoticed corners. Ares posed thought-provoking, era-transcending questions, while Tom, with his genius-level insight and logic, delved into deep analysis and memorization.

Fragment Two: Forging Power

Magic control training continued. Ares combined the system-transmitted "Basic Magic Stabilization Technique" and "Magic Perception Enhancement" with his own understanding of Runic script, guiding Tom in ways he could accept.

They no longer limited themselves to the rooftop—sometimes in the abandoned backyard corner, sometimes in the empty laundry room late at night. Ares demonstrated how to condense magic at his fingertips, making a single leaf float or causing ripples of a specific pattern on water. Tom learned incredibly fast; his magical nature leaned more toward control and influence than Ares' soothing resonance. He soon surpassed his teacher, not only stabilizing his own power but attempting finer operations—making a lock vibrate from a distance, or causing those who bullied him to trip mysteriously, all done more covertly, leaving almost no trace.

Ares didn't stop these small "revenge" acts. He knew they were part of Tom's way of venting and gaining control. He just ensured they wouldn't attract real trouble or get Tom fully branded a "monster." They formed a tacit division of labor: Ares was the "shield" and "brain," providing comfort, warnings, and strategy; Tom was the "spear" and "hand," executing actions requiring force and deterrence.

Fragment Three: Standing Together Against Outsiders

As they grew older, the power dynamics in the orphanage shifted. Albert's batch of children gradually left, but new troublemakers always emerged, trying to challenge Tom's "status." However, they soon found dealing with Tom Riddle wasn't as easy as before.

Once, several older newcomers tried to snatch a thick book on pyramids Tom had just obtained. Tom's eyes turned cold, and he was about to act, but Ares stepped forward first. Without using magic, he calmly and logically listed several violations of orphanage rules they had committed—like sneaking cigarettes, damaging property—and said if they didn't leave immediately, he wouldn't mind "reminding" Mrs. Cole.

The kids paled. They hadn't expected this quiet, seemingly frail boy with heterochromatic eyes to know so much incriminating information about them. They slunk away resentfully.

Tom hugged the book, looking at Ares with a complex expression. He was used to making people fear him through force; this was the first time someone had resolved a conflict with wisdom and information. He said nothing, but that night, he silently placed a rare piece of fruit candy he'd hidden by Ares' pillow.

[(???) Received a candy offering from the future Dark Lord! Host's sense of achievement is overflowing!]

Fragment Four: Silent Dependence

Year after year, they became a unique sight in the orphanage. Two equally outstanding, equally aloof boys, inseparable. They shared found books, divided limited food, and on cold winter nights, even had to squeeze into the same bed for "warmth," relying on each other's body heat and the magic flowing within to ward off the chill.

Tom still rarely showed emotion, but Ares could feel that the initial, purely utilitarian mindset had long since quietly transformed. When Ares fell ill with a fever due to his frail constitution, Tom would stay awake all night, clumsily using his immature magic to try to cool him down, his eyes filled with barely concealed anxiety. When new kids pointed fingers at Ares' heterochromatic eyes and markings, a single icy glare from Tom was enough to silence them.

They were each other's only driftwood in a dark ocean, the sole companions on a frozen island. This dependence and bond, born in a desperate environment, ran deeper than any flashy emotion.

Five years flowed by like water.

Ares grew from that pitiful child in the rain into a slender, increasingly refined and beautiful youth. The reddish-brown in his platinum hair became more pronounced, and the wisdom and compassion in his heterochromatic eyes deepened.

Tom shed some of his childish contours, revealing a young man's sharp, handsome features—jet-black hair, deep, unfathomable eyes, a beauty almost unreal—and became even more reserved and inscrutable.

They were still mired in the mud, but their hearts, through each other's presence and a vague awareness of the magical world, had already flown to entirely different places.

[Five-Year Montage Ended!(′▽`???) Host's bond level with the target has greatly increased! Current status: Unbreakable Symbiosis.]

Another evening, Ares and Tom sat side by side on a pile of bricks in the abandoned backyard, reading an old book on star myths. The setting sun stretched their shadows long.

Tom suddenly closed the book, raised his head, and looked toward the southeastern sky—the direction of central London. His eyes no longer held a child's confusion or mere longing, but a clear, sharp ambition and certainty.

"Soon," he said, seemingly out of nowhere.

Ares' heart leaped. He knew exactly what Tom meant. The system's calendar clearly showed—1937, summer, was coming.

That professor in the star-and-moon robes, with sharp blue eyes, was about to knock on the door of Wood Orphanage.

The storm was coming. And the "ark" they had built together for five years was about to face its first true voyage test.

Ares watched Tom's sculpted profile in the sunset, feeling the blood pact power resonating faintly with Tom's magic within him, and gently clenched his fist.

Five years of lying low were over. The real story was only beginning now.