"My Lord" came back to his senses and suddenly realized something. Why was it that every time Wizet spoke, he answered so perfectly, resolving whatever doubt had arisen in his mind at that very moment?
He did not dare think too deeply about it, yet even that fleeting thought filled him with terror. The flames in his eye sockets flickered violently.
Wizet turned his head, looked at the violently dancing flames in "My Lord's" eye sockets, and smiled. "Mr. Mictlantecuhtli, you have already thought of the answer, haven't you?"
"My Lord's" voice was somewhat dry as he asked probingly, "You... what are you trying to say?"
"Perhaps I should ask you instead..." Wizet said. "Mr. Mictlantecuhtli, what exactly did you just think of?"
"You..." Even "My Lord's" voice began to tremble. "You really..."
"This should not be difficult." Wizet nodded. "Or perhaps I should put it more precisely..."
"For me, this is not difficult. After all, I understand my own uniqueness. What I can accomplish is not necessarily something others can accomplish."
"Of course! I can also use some method to spread this 'uniqueness,' allowing more people to break free from their restraints."
Wizet's words made Voldemort realize something instead, and his heart seemed to skip a beat.
Like "My Lord," a thought flashed through his mind.
He did not dare examine it too closely either. It was as though, if he pursued that thought further, he might... personally destroy his own "path of magic"!
"I know what you want to know." Wizet continued. "You desperately want to understand one thing: why is it that every answer I give happens to address the exact 'why' you most want to know?"
"The reason is actually very simple—so simple that it is almost excessive. But just like Herpo's trick, which made Selina