Supreme, Supreme, Dark Lord!

Voldemort told Grindelwald part of the secret about the resurrection.

He told Grindelwald that the sacred relics that the old devil had been looking for all along could not really resurrect the dead. Only the soul was brought back, and it was an illusory and distant soul of the dead that was difficult to reach and unable to communicate with the living.

Regarding what he heard, the man with a beautiful appearance like an angel but a deep heart, a cruel heart, and a dark belly frowned disappointedly, but after looking into Voldemort's magnificent and calm pupils like rubies, his eyes lit up with a smile again, Grindel Wo slowly sank his tall body into the soft sofa, put his hands behind his back, relaxed his whole body and murmured carelessly, "...you won't say useless words, I believe you must have a way."

"..." The old devil king obviously cared so much that he pretended to be irrelevant to himself that Voldemort wanted to complain, he snorted coldly, his vermilion eyes showed a bit of obscure displeasure, and his teeth itched for a long time. Muttered listlessly, "That's why I want to collect all those things, the Calamity Tablet I took from you last time, the Elder Wand made of elderberry branches, the Resurrection Stone of the Deathly Hallows, and the founding stone of Hogwarts. The four representatives of human beings... as long as you collect all these things, you can trade with a being."

"Oh──collecting seven treasures can make your wish come true?" Grindelwald caressed his clean and unshaven chin thoughtfully, narrowed his eyes narrowly and suspiciously, and curved his lips to reveal a streak With a mocking smile, "So any wish can come true?"

"Not... only limited to the soul, power, and body." Frowning, Voldemort seemed to be in the mode of answering every question, and Voldemort looked a little impatient, perhaps because he and Grindelwald nestled comfortably on the sofa to stretch. The reason was related. Somewhat annoyed that he was easily teased, Voldemort rubbed the center of his brows irritably, and murmured hoarsely, "I am the only one who can summon that existence. Even if you know the ritual method, it is useless."

"Heh... your tone is really provocative." The old devil, who seemed to be in a relaxed mood, squinted his eyes, his deep blue eyes like the Aegean Sea shone with dangerous waves, although his face was as handsome as a god. He smiled gently and pleasantly, but the extremely radiant light highlighted the shadows under his eyes. He raised his thin lips, pinched Voldemort's chin and whispered softly, "Unfortunately, although I'm a little old , but still retains the viciousness of a young man..."

"You..." For Voldemort with strong self-esteem, this condescending and restrained state would only make him feel more humiliated, he clenched his teeth angrily, and the suppressed anger burned in his red eyes again, But Grindelwald just shook his head regretfully and sighing, and taunted the corners of his mouth cruelly and happily, "There is no body temperature and almost no heartbeat, and you need to rely on magical blood to survive...Look at your current appearance, Voldemort, Do you remember standing in front of me and saying that victory is only yours?"

"...How do you know that this is not my plan." He closed his eyes angrily, Voldemort could only maintain his superficial pride in front of this veteran demon king who almost saw through him, he took a deep breath, and regained his confidence The state of mind returned to Gujing, and after calming down his angry mood, he slowly opened his eyes, staring at Grindelwald with an indifferent expression, "...I'm hungry."

The proud Voldemort is still arrogant like an emperor even if he is reduced to a prisoner, so even if he is downcast, he still has to maintain his noble and reserved performance to amuse the wicked old devil king. If it wasn't for the fact that Voldemort's body was trembling faintly due to the lack of blood heat , then Grindelwald may continue to mock with evil intentions.

But now Grindelwald just took out a silver knife, gently cut open his own blood vessels, and put his wrist close to the young man's lips for him to suck.

Dark red blood gushes out from the white wrist along with the wound. The magical color is like a jewel, and then it is slowly absorbed by the young man's thin lips lacking in blood. The cold tip of the tongue licks the wound lightly with a slight tingling pain. Immediately, even more tingling pleasure surged...Grindelwald didn't give Voldemort a chance to eat, he pushed away the bloodthirsty youth before he could indulge in that sense of depravity, and then stared at Voldemort licking the corner of his mouth The look, the eyes became complicated again.

Grindelwald has always felt that Voldemort is very similar to himself, whether it is character, the degree of pursuit of power, and the experience of losing important things for the sake of power.

It's just that he still has a chance to recover, but Voldemort has fallen into a creature that relies on magical blood to survive...

...the divider for the moon...

Tom has been in a very bad mood lately.

Manic, gloomy, with either a stinky face or a deadpan expression.

His already handsome face was livid, and his increasingly mature appearance and evil temperament made him look like an angry dark demon king who was not very upright.

For those who don't know why, this is a gunpowder bomb. His gloomy anger also affects other people. The crowd who used to hug each other in the academy disappeared. No one wants to be with that poor eyesight The half-giant was hit by the curse, and more people were afraid or timid and kept a safe viewing distance. Even Dumbledore, who should be closest to Tom in the academy, didn't make him change.

The young man's eyes are as sharp as knives, and his dark pupils reveal emptiness and indifference. They are so sharp that they can't hide their bad mood. Once they bump into him, they will feel panic, and the people who walk around him are even more uncommon. .

Although Dumbledore was worried about Tom like this, he could only sigh helplessly when he saw Tom's attitude of refusing to care about anything and the urgency of the German Death Crusaders' invasion. He believed that as long as Tom was given time, the child would come out .

But... did he really come out?

The headache in his head was like a radio with bad signal. Tom pressed his temples and frowned in frustration. Since he used Voldemort as a fantasy that night, his connection with Voldemort has been weak and sporadic.

Tom didn't know where the man was, what he was planning, or what he was trying to do, and he couldn't even find a thread in his well-protected head. In desperation, Tom turned into Voldemort's locked room, trying to find any clues , when he walked into the spacious study room decorated with silver and green basement, the four walls including the books behind the door dazzled the young man.

Should... not hide things here?

Although he knows the truth that if you want to hide a leaf, you have to hide in the woods, but looking at the dazzling array of books in front of you, Tom still feels that his head is not enough. He blankly simulated that his guardian's height might be easier to access. He tried to hug a few books, but when he carried the books to the desk, he kicked the foot of the desk.

The unexpected pain made Tom look down in annoyance, but at that moment, his gaze was focused, because under the seemingly flat flower-shaped coffee table covered with the gorgeous Snake Court badge doily, it was seamlessly stitched. Resting on a slate... Slytherin is the house with the strongest aesthetics and the most perfectionism. In this world where magic can meet all needs, including breathing, why does that proud person need to wrong himself to set up a table?

Pulling out the slate engraved with obscure words from under the table, Tom, staring at the spoils of war, turned his gaze into deep thought, because when he touched the slate, he felt that the slate could only be awakened by war and boundless blood...

He found it, one of the fragments of the man's secret.

Pulling out the chair, he studied the stone slab that Voldemort had casually padded on the table legs. Tom thoughtfully caressed the seal on his neck that was taken from the guardian's fingertips. Use it as a pendant, but this cannot hide the value of this ring.

──value?

Yes, this ring is not as simple as a proof of power. The black inlay on it has a name that has been resounding in fairy tales of wizards all over the world for thousands of years: "Returning Soul Stone".

...Has Voldemort already obtained the Soul Resurrection Stone at this time?

But now, it's his stuff.

Enduring the annoying throbbing pain, Tom stared blankly at the dark and inconspicuous interface, his black pupils reflecting the flickering candlelight on the wall.

...Slicing...Lingchi Soul...

Take the pain you endure as a price, trade with power

Making Horcruxes is the most wrong and right thing the Dark Lord has ever done. His great power comes from them, but his failure also comes from them. Live because of them...die because of them...live...

If you had another chance to choose, would you do it?

And... What if Tom of this era was given a chance to choose?

In this life, Tom Marvolo didn't kill his father, but he also took the soul-returning stone from his other father.