Indeed, his return had been far too abrupt. He hadn't even managed to bring Riddle or Malfoy back with him, let alone the huge, ornate Mirror of Erised.
He could only wonder if Dumbledore had finally managed to retrieve Malfoy.
Faced with Ian's careful apology, Morgan merely rested her pale cheek on one hand and chuckled softly.
"Actually, you've already returned it to me." She didn't seem the least bit angry.
Ian blinked, then the realization hit him. So, when Morgan had once said, "return it to me at the right time," she had meant for her past self to receive the Mirror of Erised?
That kind of time loop made Ian suck in a sharp breath. It felt as if this dark witch's mind ran so deep that no one could guess her schemes until the very moment they unfolded.
"Right… Professor, you once mentioned that the Mirror of Erised contained a secret that haunted you for half your life." Ian held the small box in his hands, his expression puzzled.
He couldn't believe this small, unassuming thing was possibly that secret.
In response to Ian's confusion, Morgan's lashes lowered, her gaze dim and distant as she looked at him. She didn't answer his question. Instead, as if changing the subject entirely, she said quietly:
"The origin of the Mirror of Erised is also connected to Medivh."
"You'll discover that… the sixth time you meet my past self."
Morgan took the box from Ian's hands, clearly with no intention of explaining further.
Ian swallowed hard as he watched Morgan open the box.
Lying on the dark velvet inside was a metal heart, still beating with a faint, rhythmic pulse.
The lines Ian had once dismissed as mere decoration were actually intricate magical circuits, which now began to glow faintly as Morgan's slender fingers drew near. The heart's rhythm quickened, emitting a soft ticking sound like a clock, the mechanical workings within clearly audible, as if something deep within was about to be activated.
However, Morgan didn't touch it. She withdrew her hand, her expression calm, as though she had merely wanted to confirm something. Satisfied, she closed the box again, her interest seemingly fading.
"Professor, did you find the secret behind this heart?" Ian couldn't help but ask.
Morgan gave a small nod, then shook her head.
"The gods' authority will eventually be carried within it. Gather all the components, Ian."
When she pushed the box back into his hands, her fingers were icy cold, more like polished marble than warm flesh. Well, she wasn't exactly alive, after all.
"Uh…" Ian looked down at the box helplessly.
"But how many parts does this thing even have? And where are they?" He tried asking for a hint, half in jest. "You don't expect me to scour every mysterious ruin in the world, do you?"
It was, in truth, an impossible task. Not only would it require more effort than any mortal could manage, but Ian doubted he even had the lifespan to wander across every corner of the planet that might hide such relics.
Morgan chuckled softly. Her eyes gleamed with a faint, elusive meaning, as though she were hinting at something far beyond his understanding.
"You don't need to seek them out deliberately." Her voice carried quiet certainty.
"What do you mean?" Ian raised an eyebrow.
"They may exist anywhere," Morgan said, smiling mysteriously, "but in the end, they will all converge toward you. Among the principles of Creation, there exists one known as the Law of Extraordinary Matter Convergence."
Her lips curved into a secretive, knowing smile.
And when Ian heard her say that, his expression was truly priceless. He lowered his head to look at the box, his lips twitching. He wanted to say something, to complain, but didn't even know where to start.
There it was again, another obvious case of "fate déjà vu."
By now, Ian's grasp of the situation had become fairly clear. He knew of his three identities: one as the Raven, one as Medivh, and the third, his true self, as the Creator-Lord of Alchemy. Of course, according to the old Hogwarts transfer student's diary, even that identity had been established under the guise of the Raven.
Which meant, he more or less understood what Professor Morgan meant by the so-called Law of Extraordinary Matter Convergence. It was clearly one of the "fancy tricks" employed by the true Creator-Lord when constructing the so-called Artificial Gods, the grand vision of alchemical ascension itself.
Honestly, it made Ian feel even more exasperated than that ridiculous "knowledge is poisonous" concept.
"Still… I guess I've always had a soft spot for the mysterious," Ian sighed helplessly. He didn't really want to curse himself, but the sheer absurdity of it all, the convergence laws, the secret artifact, the poisonous knowledge, made him want to laugh and cry at once.
"That's enough." Morgan rubbed her temples. "I'm tired."
It sounded like she was dismissing him, though Ian couldn't tell if it was genuine exhaustion or a simple desire to be left alone. Sensing that his teacher wanted to rest, Ian tactfully prepared to take his leave, planning to head toward the small town where Ariana and Arthur (currently using the alias Pandero) were staying.
But just as he turned, his wand began to tremble violently at his hip.
The tip gleamed with a strange, growing light, a flickering brilliance that pulsed like a heartbeat, as if some mysterious power was awakening within.
"Hmm?" Morgan glanced over in surprise.
Then, fine threads of silver light burst from the wand's tip, dancing through the air like living things. They wove together rapidly, forming intricate patterns, as though trying to weave something into existence.
Ian could feel his magic power being pushed to its absolute limit.
"No!"
He realized what was happening too late. His face went pale, but he only had time for a single shout, his voice echoing through the silent space, before the magic completed itself.
Silvery radiance surged out from his wand in waves, fluid and alive. In the blink of an eye, it gathered midair and transformed into the figure of a young man holding a sword.
The youth stood tall and proud, clad in silver armor, radiating an icy aura. His long sword shimmered coldly in his grip, exuding a sharp and unstoppable intent.
"No!" Ian's horrified cry came too late.
Because the moment the youth took form, his eyes lit up with wild excitement. He raised his sword high and charged forward with unstoppable momentum, swinging it dozens of times in the span of a single heartbeat.
"Ian! I'm here to help you kill the monster!"
Ah yes, of all the martial arts in the world, speed is the ultimate power.
And the young King Arthur's spirit demonstrated that principle perfectly. At any other time, Ian might have even praised him for it, except that the person sitting directly in the direction Arthur was charging toward was none other than Morgan.
Dozens of sword strikes per second?!
Morgan didn't appear hurt; she blocked every blow in time.
But still----
"!!!!"
Every swing made Ian's scalp go numb and his heart leap into his throat. In the span of a single second, sweat poured from him like rain.
(End of Chapter)
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