Morris didn't want to play with Tom and the Basilisk anymore.
He said calmly, " Tom, it's not too late to surrender now. If I'm in a good mood, I might let you go and let you disappear comfortably."
Tom gave a cold laugh.
dissipate?
This cannot be described as "letting them go".
What could be a worse ending?
"Keep attacking!" he roared. "Tear him apart! Crush him! Use your venom to make the enemy experience true pain!"
As if sensing its master's emotions, the Basilisk became even more ferocious.
Without hesitation, it flicked its tongue and pounced toward Morris.
Morris shook his head.
Alas, it seems the Basilisk's intact corpse is unlikely to be preserved.
What a pity.
To deal with a behemoth of this size, another colossal creature is naturally needed.
Coincidentally, there happened to be a matching undead creature within Morris's magic circle.
He waved the hem of his robe.
"Boom--!
A muffled thud.
The Bone Dragon's massive body, like a meteorite falling from the sky, slammed solidly into the Basilisk.
A terrifying force erupted instantly, crushing the Basilisk's head and slamming it heavily onto the hard floor. Dark red blood mixed with slime splattered, staining a large area of the ground red.
Seeing this, Tom showed a flustered expression for the first time in front of Morris.
"You... what is this? How could you possibly possess such power?"
Morris, clad in bone armor, stood silently beside the Bone Dragon, saying nothing.
While the Basilisk is powerful and large, it is still slightly inferior to the strength of the Bone Dragon.
That last blow has already caused it enormous damage.
The Bone Dragon gave the Basilisk no chance to catch its breath or recover.
After landing its blow, it adjusted its posture, its ferocious tail suddenly rising and tearing through the air as it slammed down hard on the Basilisk's head.
"Bang!"
Another loud bang, mixed with the sound of something shattering.
The Basilisk's head caved in.
"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Its tail, like a meteor hammer, pounded down on the Basilisk.
Finally, the Basilisk stopped struggling and fell completely silent.
The monsters within the Chamber of Secrets were utterly and violently ended by the Bone Dragon in the most direct and brutal way.
The entire hall fell into a deathly silence.
Only the nauseating smell of blood lingered in the air.
Tom Riddle's phantom image, as if Petrificus Totalus, froze completely in mid-air.
He stared intently at the gruesome corpse of the Basilisk below, his face filled with disbelief.
He's dead...
The Basilisk died just like that?
This wasn't even a proper battle.
absurd.
Utterly absurd.
He slowly turned his neck and looked at the figure wearing bone armor next to the Bone Dragon.
Morris Black.
Just who is this second-year Ravenclaw student in front of me?
Is this their source of confidence?
He felt that even if he had a physical body, he might not be able to defeat his opponent.
After all, if he were to personally deal with the Basilisk, it would likely take considerable effort and even a significant price to win.
Morris sighed again when he saw the Basilisk's miserable state.
Well, this corpse doesn't look like it could have successfully transformed into an undead creature.
It's all turned into a lump.
Tom's movements became increasingly unsteady, and his scarlet eyes dimmed considerably.
When Morris's gaze fell upon him, he leaned against the stone pillar as if he had used up his last bit of strength.
"What do you intend to do with me?" Tom's voice was soft and calm. "If you're going to kill me, I'll accept it."
Resistance? Completely pointless.
Begging for mercy will only bring more shame.
As Morris cast Scourgify on the Bone Dragon's body, he asked, "Aren't you going to struggle a little longer, Tom?"
"Destroy me," Tom said expressionlessly. "Let me vanish completely. Then, one day, another me will come back to take revenge on you."
After cleaning the Bone Dragon, Morris put it back into the magic circle.
"Revenge?" He looked at Tom, smiled slightly, and said with a hint of amusement, "You probably don't have the chance. Remember what I said before? I won't let you disappear so easily."
Tom reopened his eyes, frowned, and asked, "What do you mean?"
Morris stepped forward and grabbed Tom's true form—the black notebook—which was floating in the air.
Tom's body trembled violently.
He suddenly felt a strong sense of unease.
Morris slowly walked up to Tom, waving the notebook in his hand. "If I'm not mistaken, you've probably separated a part of your soul and sealed it inside this diary, haven't you?"
"So what if it is?" Tom tried his best to remain calm.
He was already prepared to disappear, so it didn't matter even if the secret of the Horcrux was revealed.
Morris did not answer immediately, but instead examined the notebook repeatedly.
"I don't know why you chose to split your soul," he shook his head. "Ah, a foolish act, so foolish I don't even know how to describe it."
Tom scoffed, "What exactly do you want?"
Morris wasn't in a hurry. He weighed the notebook in his hand. "I'm curious, Tom, how can a fragment of a soul, separated and existing independently, be stored so unprotected in a... well... tattered book? What are you thinking?"
His tone was sarcastic.
A flicker of offended annoyance crossed Tom's eyes.
Horcrux —these are the abilities that grant him immortality.
It's the pinnacle of Dark Magic! It's an art that transcends death!
To be called stupid by the other party?
But Tom quickly calmed down, realizing that arguing was pointless.
He closed his eyes, preparing to face utter annihilation.
Seeing that the other party did not answer, Morris shook his head regretfully. "Since you don't want to chat, then I'll say one last thing: I'll accept your soul. Oh, that description doesn't seem quite accurate."
Tom opened his eyes abruptly, staring at him warily. "What does this mean?"
"Literally," Morris squinted, "I'm just going to stamp your soul; it won't hurt."
"After that, we were on the same side!"
How could a necromancer not know about spells involving souls?
Just recently, a new Enslavement Mark appeared in the Book of the Mage.
By imprinting this mark on someone else's soul, you can make that soul completely obedient to you.
Pretty impressive, right?
Of course, such powerful magic must have conditions for use, and those conditions are extremely stringent.
First, the object of use must be an independent soul, not attached to a physical body, nor protected by anything.
Secondly, the target's soul strength must be weaker than the caster's.
Isn't that a coincidence?
This fragment of Voldemort's soul perfectly fits this requirement.
This magic seemed tailor-made for him.