novelcrest Chapter 607 Voldemort vs. Riddle
Chapter 607 Voldemort vs. Riddle
Chapter 603 Voldemort vs. Riddle
Voldemort considered many possibilities.
Someone who looks like him?
Did he drink the compound decoction and impersonate him?
Or is it some kind of sophisticated illusion?
But these thoughts flashed through his mind and were quickly dismissed by him.
No, that's not an aura that can be faked.
That aura, that look in your eyes, cannot be replicated by disguise.
Even compound decoctions can only mimic appearance, not one's own temperament.
Voldemort's eyes turned cold, his mind raced, and in an instant, he understood everything.
It's not a stand-in, it's not an illusion.
The most likely scenario is that the other party is him.
To be precise, it was him in the past.
He still retains the name "Tom Riddle".
He gazed at "Riddle" on the stage, a complex and inexplicable emotion passing through his mind.
"When were you me?" he asked.
"I am you from the future," Riddle said.
This statement doesn't actually mean Riddle comes from the future, but rather that he will replace Voldemort as the future.
It's an irony, isn't it?
Voldemort never imagined that one day, the enemy standing opposite him would be himself.
However, this also served as a wake-up call for him.
Only you can understand how terrible you are; you are also your own greatest enemy.
He smiled coldly, letting his actions speak for themselves.
The air suddenly froze.
A roaring, explosive force erupted from his wand—a variant of the Crucifixion Curse:
It can crush a person's nerves as if they were uprooted.
His first move was a deadly strike.
Riddle, however, remained unfazed.
Almost simultaneously, he raised his wand and lightly waved a Killing Curse!
The two incantations collided in mid-air, causing the green and red beams of light to twist violently and entangle into a turbulent current, like the whips of a god lashing at reality.
boom!!
The explosion was deafening, the shockwave spread outwards, the ground cracked inch by inch, and debris flew up.
Even the dark wizard was shaken and stumbled.
This is not a back-and-forth test.
These are two dark lords, both determined to kill, clashing head-on with the purest and deadliest curses.
Voldemort narrowed his eyes coldly and raised his wand once more.
"Extremely painful and agonizing."
This spell was Voldemort's favorite, as it best conveyed the pleasure of "domination and pain".
A streak of blood-red demonic light roared out.
It coiled and twisted like a venomous snake, heading straight for Riddle's chest.
Riddle, however, did not retreat.
He simply stood there quietly, waiting for the red light to reach him, then suddenly swung his sword, shouting "Avada Kedavra—!"
No nonsense.
The green beam of light burst forth instantly, colliding head-on with the red light.
Then, an explosion.
Boom!
A huge hole exploded in mid-air, clouds churned, and smoke billowed like the gates of hell opened. Voldemort and Riddle's figures were instantly engulfed in the storm of ash and energy.
The next second—
Voldemort burst out of the smoke, his eyes bloodshot, his wand drawing an arc in the air.
He roared, "Avada Kedavra—!!"
A green flame shot straight at his face!
But what he saw was a cold smile appearing on Riddle's lips.
"It's too late."
Riddle swept past him, a chilling curse exploding close to his ear: "Heart-crushing curse."
Both sides are taught entirely with forehand and backhand techniques.
Perhaps it was a coincidence, or perhaps it was—
If a person's soul were torn into seven pieces, Voldemort's main body would only have one-seventh of his own soul.
Even with a buff, the maximum benefit is only one-sixth.
It was also far inferior to Riddle, who had absorbed several of his own kind.
Besides—Sean has given Riddle plenty of potions on a regular basis.
Judging from the current outcome of this battle, Voldemort is slightly inferior in this forehand and backhand instruction session.
Voldemort's body trembled suddenly as a thousand steel needles pierced out of his body.
He didn't scream; he gritted his teeth and endured the pain, but knelt down on the ground.
He had never experienced it—
The feeling of the Crucible Curse falling on oneself.
Pain churned and spread through every nerve, tearing out his deep-seated fear and humiliation.
He wanted to break free—
But at that very moment, another "death curse" came crashing down.
Voldemort gritted his teeth and fought back, raising his wand with great effort. A Killing Curse was released at the last moment, canceling out the Killing Curse.
He stumbled back a few steps, his breathing disordered.
Now—he has one last trick up his sleeve.
He was reluctant to use this tactic lightly.
It signifies humiliation, the collapse of authority, and the public tearing of the "great" Dark Lord into a pathetic figure begging for help.
But losing face is always better than losing your life.
He gritted his teeth and roared, "I am Voldemort!!!"
"Bella! Lucius!! Where are you?! Come help me!!!"
The sound exploded in the valley, the echoes rolling away like lingering thunder.
This was the first time Voldemort had uttered such a terrified cry in front of everyone.
but----
The crowd fell silent; there was no response.