— — — — — —
[Basic Gacha Draw: mundane items, everyday valuables, and quality alchemical tools]
[Intermediate Draw: An elite wizard, with a small chance of yielding a Century King level reward]
[High Draw: Century King, with a small chance of yielding a Legend]
[Legendary Draw: Legend, with a small chance of yielding a Wizard King]
[Mythical Draw: Wizard King, with a very small chance of yielding a God of Magic]
Wizards at the Legendary level, Ravenclaw's tier, were useful to him, but having one Ravenclaw felt sufficient for now.
Even if he summoned Slytherin or Gryffindor, at best he'd learn some of their signature techniques. In terms of sheer magical breadth, neither could surpass Ravenclaw.
Spending five thousand points on that felt like a bad deal.
Wizard King costs ten thousand achievement points. God of Magic costs thirty thousand.
And thanks to the system update compensation, the first summon of a Wizard King only required seven thousand points. Tom decided to save up. He wanted to see who the system classified as a Wizard King.
Still… he was poor.
If he had thirty thousand points, he'd summon a god without hesitation.
With a sigh, he decided to use the legendary gacha draw.
Having made up his mind, Tom stopped staring at his achievement points and turned his attention elsewhere.
A legendary gacha draw corresponded to rewards ranging from legend-tier to Wizard King-tier.
But to be honest, Tom felt like he'd taken a serious hit with this update—a massive one. Usaki's level was far beyond what a legendary draw could produce, and he'd gotten it from nothing more than a high-tier gacha. As for Hakuna Matata… that was in a league of its own. Maybe a God-of-Magic–level reward.
The fact that something like that could be drawn from a single legendary gacha made even Tom feel incredulous. The system had probably bled badly this time and, nursing its pain, pushed out an update to rebalance things.
Still, Tom wasn't particularly upset. Having a cheat at all was already a blessing. He'd exploited it twice. If it became harder to use later, so be it. As long as things were fair from here on out, what was there to complain about?
He'd always had a good mindset.
[Reward obtained: "The Wisdom of Solomon, King of Magecraft." (Wizard King-tier Reward)]
King of Magecraft?
Tom froze for a moment, then immediately guessed its origin.
There was only one Solomon worthy of that title. The Grand Caster of the Nasuverse, bearer of the Ten Rings. Solomon.
Tom accepted the reward without hesitation. The system had clearly marked it as a Wizard King-tier ability, a full tier above Ravenclaw and the others.
"That's surprising. It's a skill?"
Tom raised an eyebrow. He'd expected a passive talent. Instead, it was an active skill.
He activated it experimentally.
From the outside, nothing seemed to change. His appearance was the same, his aura unchanged. Only his eyes grew deeper, as if something vast had settled within them.
Inside his body, however, his enormous magical reserves began to drain at a terrifying rate, like a floodgate thrown wide open.
Tom was no stranger to methods that boosted intelligence and comprehension. The effect of Solomon's Wisdom resembled his turbo mode in some ways, but the differences were far more striking.
System skills excavated his own potential, pushing his thoughts to a speed that made time itself feel slowed.
Solomon's Wisdom was different.
It directly overlaid Solomon's own level of insight onto him.
It was as if he were using Solomon's mind as a CPU, processing his own problems through it.
And the truly terrifying part?
It could stack with his system modes.
Tom activated his turbo mode. Starlight flickered in his eyes, drifting down into his hands and taking shape as that magic book that struck fear into the hearts of countless wizards.
This time, the book formed far faster than before.
The spell 'Magical Library' was still not fully perfected. It was only a semi-finished product. But now, with Tom's inspiration surging, its completion rate skyrocketed as if strapped to a rocket.
By the time the state ended, it was basically done.
Of course, magic had no true endpoint. There was no such thing as a perfect spell. As Tom's foundations deepened in the future, the power of Magical Library would continue to grow.
"Good stuff," Tom murmured, delight flashing in his eyes. "Just a bit rough on the body."
Feeling his magic drain so violently still made him uncomfortable.
Not long ago, he'd thought his reserves were more than enough—he even called it an infinity mana bar. Less than half a day later, reality had come crashing down on him.
He did a rough calculation. At this rate, using Solomon's Wisdom for about an hour and a half would completely empty his magic. He wouldn't even make it to two hours. Pathetic.
As for his Mind Avatar, that was completely off the table. It would collapse in just a few minutes.
Still, there was no need to panic. Fourth year was a turning point for young wizards, when their bodies rapidly matured and their magic began to grow faster. At Hogwarts, reaching fourth year already counted as entering the upper years.
Even if he gained nothing else, by graduation his total magic would be at least double what it was now.
All in all, Tom was in a great mood. Today's gains were an unexpected bonus.
...
Dawn crept in through the sky, and Lady Greengrass had already started swearing loudly, cursing a certain in-laws family that didn't even exist.
The Transportation Department had moved its offices from the Ministry to the camp's commercial street. Even before sunrise, wizards had begun lining up to receive Portkeys home.
By eight in the morning, the queue stretched for several kilometers and was still growing.
Making Portkeys wasn't particularly difficult. Many wizards knew the spell. But private production was illegal. More importantly, the wizards still here came from all over the world.
Creating a short-range Portkey was one thing.
Crossing oceans was another matter entirely.
That kind of work was best left to professionals. The Transportation Department had several Portkey experts working nonstop since midnight. Their hands were cramping badly, yet the line showed no signs of shrinking.
Ministry employees technically had the home-field advantage and could Apparate back directly, but every single one of them was kept behind to maintain order.
If anything went wrong with this crowd, Fudge really would have to resign in disgrace.
The commercial street that had been packed with people just yesterday now looked desolate. Very few shops were open. Aside from stores selling daily necessities and snacks, there was almost no foot traffic.
Tom generously refunded the rent, easing the merchants' losses.
They were grateful to him, and at the same time furious at yesterday's troublemakers. If not for the riot, they could have made a lot of money.
Meanwhile, the Guild showed just how much talent they had. Ikaros brought in several wizards skilled at Portkey crafting to help out, relieving a great deal of Lady Greengrass's burden.
Watching the pink-haired, expressionless girl work efficiently, Lady Greengrass was seriously tempted to adopt another goddaughter.
Ikaros was just too sensible. Nothing like the living menace in her own house.
Well... sometimes, people really do summon trouble just by thinking about it.
After hearing from Astoria that she'd missed an incredible show, the eldest young lady finally arrived. Not getting to witness Tom going all-out had Daphne furious. She threw a proper tantrum that lasted quite a while.
"That bastard…"
Fleur, who had only just arrived herself, narrowed her eyes.
With Veela blood in her veins, she was unusually sensitive on a mental level. She could clearly sense that something about Daphne had changed, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it.
Pressure?
No… not exactly.
Then what was this strange sense of oppression?
In Fleur's eyes, Daphne's greatest defining trait had always been her absurd luck. Born into a pure-blood family with deep roots, she'd met Tom almost as soon as she started school. Back then, Tom hadn't shown anything extraordinary at all, yet Daphne had latched onto him without hesitation.
Fleur and the others all knew this much. In Tom's heart, Daphne was different from the rest of them.
Fleur suspected that if Daphne ever asked for the stars, Tom would seriously consider how to get them for her.
This spoiled girl had never faced any setbacks in her life. Her backing only grew stronger by the day. She'd evolved from carefree into something closer to shamelessly fearless.
And yet now, Daphne was somehow making Fleur feel pressured.
Just what kind of miracle drug had Tom fed her?
Fleur couldn't figure it out. She glanced around the room and looked at Hermione. "Where's Tom?"
"No idea," Hermione shook her head. "He went out early this morning. He'll probably be busy all day."
Fleur nodded in understanding. Ikaros might have been responsible for arresting people, but cleaning up afterward was the real headache.
"Let's go!" Daphne suddenly declared after venting enough, grabbing Astoria by the hand and dragging her toward the door.
"Huh? Sis, where are you going?"
"I'm going to make some Portkeys and sell them. Earn a little pocket money!"
Making money wasn't the point. The important thing was that she finally had a day off, and she refused to waste it without finding some fun.
Seeing how fired up her sister looked, Astoria worried Daphne might cause trouble. Still, she obediently followed along.
The two girls dashed out, mounted their brooms, and flew toward the commercial street. Up in the clouds, a shadow flickered in and out of sight, silently tailing them.
---
Camp Three, inside a tent—
Tom sat sprawled in his chair, posture relaxed but imposing, his indifferent gaze sweeping over the line of people standing before him. They were all dressed in black robes, and they even dared to look him straight in the eye.
These were the Death Eaters who had caused trouble the night before.
"Well, this is unexpected…"
The boy lowered his head and slowly sipped his hot tea, blowing lightly across the surface. "Gentlemen, by rights you're all my seniors. We're all Slytherins. Your sons and daughters are even my classmates at school."
"If you think about it, there's no real conflict between us. We even have a decent relationship. Don't you agree, Lucius?"
Lucius Malfoy forced a smile that looked worse than crying. "Mr. Riddle, you've misunderstood. We're not—"
"Not what?" Tom cut him off. "I don't care what you were thinking. The facts are right here. This was my event. You wrecked it, and you even fired the Dark Mark. What was that supposed to mean? Missing another Tom Riddle?"
Lucius shuddered and hurried to explain. "We've been wronged. Truly wronged!"
"That Dark Mark had nothing to do with us! It activated on its own, completely by itself!"
The others nodded frantically in agreement.
'Of course it wasn't you.' Tom thought coldly.
These people were the ones who least wanted Voldemort to return. The truly loyal were either rotting in Azkaban or already dead. Fence-sitters like Lucius were the only ones still jumping around freely.
But right now, Tom was passing the blame. He was looking for an excuse. The truth didn't matter.
"If it wasn't you," Tom said lightly, "then was it me?"
He leaned forward slightly, and an overwhelming pressure exploded outward. Lucius and the others nearly suffocated on the spot.
"You smash my venue and throw up your boss's mark. That's not just disrespecting me. That's slapping me in the face. Look at me! My cheeks are swollen because of you!"
"Now, I'll give you two choices."
"Either kneel and live."
"Or kneel and die."
Lucius, Selwyn, and the others were completely stunned.
Wait… hold on.
Why were both options kneeling?
And who in their right mind would kneel before dying at your hands? That's just arrogant.
Somehow… they all think the same way, 'Tom Riddles really are all alike.'
And somehow, again, they had the same thought, 'my next descendant will be named Tom Riddle.'
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