His tone was quite fervent, carrying a sense of indignation.
"I choose to break free from destiny myself! This is far beyond his scheming! He was created too early, with fear in his heart, and didn't dare do what I have done!"
"He's not just a betrayer but a coward, a hesitant guy!" Due to the ridicule he received, "Harry" began to belittle the other Soul Artifact to elevate himself.
This was truly a case of dog eat dog.
"How interesting."
Ian found this kind of scene quite novel.
Seeing his good mood, "Harry" immediately seized the opportunity, looked at Pansy lying in the pool on the ground, and his tone once again carried a hint of plea.
"I've confessed everything to you, so now can you truly bring me back to life? I can teach you, help you, a powerful person like you will surely achieve something that astonishes everyone. On your path to conquest, you need assistance, you need followers. I can be your helper and follower."
"A Black Demon King will follow you, you are bound to change the whole world." He continued to use his eloquence, attempting to paint a magnificent future for Ian.
This is undoubtedly an offer that would tempt any ambitious person.
However.
As always.
Ian was not among them.
Of course, he had ideals and ambitions, but they had nothing to do with conquering the world.
"You're right; you've confessed everything, so our conversation should end here." Ian chuckled, his magic wand gave a slight tremor.
Suddenly, the Fiery Fire seemed to be endowed with life.
They contained Ian's immense magic power and resolute will, each flame like a sharp blade, cutting through every inch of the air they swept through.
"You deceitful wretch! Damn it!" Voldemort's remnant soul howled and roared, his voice frantic and angry, clearly viewing Ian as another traitor.
"I never agreed to your deal." Ian continued to drive the Fiery Fire, with its power growing increasingly strong, as if igniting everything within the ruins.
"You vile brat!"
Voldemort hurriedly raised Harry's magic wand and began to use magic to hold off.
However.
He occupied Harry's body.
He could only use Harry's magic power. Though Mr. Savior's talents were outstanding among his peers, they fell short compared to adult wizards.
"All Curses End!"
Voldemort first attempted to use this upgraded spell of "Finite Incantatem" to dispel Ian's Fiery Fire, but his magic power was too weak to dispel the Fiery Fire condensed by Ian's peak human magic.
Seeing that the Fiery Fire showed no sign of pausing, sweat beaded on Voldemort's forehead, and he gritted his teeth to use his most skillful Dark Arts.
"Nether Abyss Descent!"
Accompanied by Voldemort's incantation.
A dense black mist suddenly rose in the Secret Chamber.
Countless wraiths appeared from the black mist, roaring and howling, forming a seemingly indestructible defensive barrier, trying to resist the overwhelming Fiery Fire.
The power of Dark Arts lies precisely in this, even without strong magic power or high memory, it can produce powerful effects by sacrificing some soul erosion.
The essence of most Dark Arts.
Is actually "borrowing" the power of other existences.
This is why erosion occurs—of course, for Voldemort's remnant soul, his soul was already riddled with scars, so he didn't care about the cost of using Dark Arts.
And so.
Countless wraiths, shrouded in black mist, pounced towards the Fiery Fire.
They clawed fiercely towards the Fiery Fire, trying to block this deadly attack from approaching "Harry."
However, even if this was Dark Arts, so too was the Fiery Fire Ian was most skilled in, rendering Voldemort's remnant soul's Dark Arts utterly powerless against him.
Understand this.
Even in his prime, Voldemort could not defeat Ian.
"Roar! Roar! Roar!"
Within the surging black mist.
Facing Ian's Fiery Fire attack like a storm, this seemingly ferocious magic appeared as fragile as paper.
Fiery Fire, like living flames, moved nimbly among the wraiths, each touch accompanied by a harrowing wail and the rise of black smoke. Countless wraiths writhed in agony under the Fiery Fire, gradually losing shape and disintegrating into ash drifting in the air.
The imposing magic collapsed in the blink of an eye.
Nonetheless.
Voldemort, occupying Harry's body, remained unflustered. He had long realized Ian's unreasonable strength was insurmountable, so the magic was merely a delay tactic.
The Fiery Fire was hindered for just a moment.
He took the opportunity to pounce beside Pansy.
"Do you want to destroy your classmate, including this innocent little girl?" Clearly, Voldemort intended to exploit the kindness of the second-year little wizard.
He vigorously pulled up the unconscious little witch on the ground, used her as a shield in front of him, and pressed the magic wand against Pansy's neck, where the green light seemed ready to burst forth at any moment.
Voldemort was gambling.
Gambling that Hogwarts students valued bonds, friendships, and camaraderie.
"Tch, do you think I care about a Slytherin unrelated to me? You think this can threaten me? Her life or death, what does it matter to me?"