Ian felt like a balloon.
Stuffed full of things that didn't belong to him.
"I'm not clean anymore!"
A tide of murderous intent—vast and surging like the ocean—raged through his small head. Rational thought was nearly drowned out, and the overwhelming bloodlust inside him surged, desperate for release.
Maybe it was Professor Mara's guidance.
Maybe it was instinct.
But as her voice echoed in his ear, Ian didn't hesitate for a second.
"Avada Kedavra!"
It was practically a roar.
Never in his life had Ian imagined he would cast the Killing Curse like this.
And yet, as the incantation resonated,
Magic and murderous intent merged within him, flowing down to his fingertips, surging into that unknown wand. Green light burst forth—bright enough to bathe the entire castle in its glow.
Like a falling star.
Dazzling.
Blinding.
Devastating.
Unfortunately, the wand was pointed at nothing alive. Just a weathered, slightly mottled grayish wall.
A spell like this only worked on living beings, so the wall remained unharmed. Even so, the green light spread across its surface like a spiderweb, glowing and pulsing before slowly fading.
Only after that eruption of killing intent had fully dissipated did Ian's mind begin to regain clarity. Beside him, the witch looked quite pleased with the result.
"Looks like your dullness is limited to certain areas. At the very least, you've got more magical talent than most."
She didn't hold back the praise.
"Oh my god…"
Ian stared at the lingering green glow on the wall, hardly able to believe that he had cast that spell.
He—
A boy of eleven,
Who hadn't even started at Hogwarts yet—
Had just performed one of the most feared and forbidden curses in all of wizardkind.
The Killing Curse.
The first and foremost of the Three Unforgivable Curses. A spell so terrifying, it turned people pale at its mere mention.
And he'd learned it just like that?
Were there really people born for Azkaban the way others were born nobles or royals?
Of course, Ian knew the curse's power had been amplified by Professor Mara's injected killing intent. Everyone knew that Avada Kedavra depended heavily on the caster's malice.
Even so—
That didn't change the fact that he had learned the spell.
Name: Ian Prince
Class: Bloodline Warlock
Magic Power: Level 4
Skills:
Lumos (Level 1): 76/100
Levitation Charm (Level 1): 11/100
Avada Kedavra (Level 1): 7/100
The panel didn't lie.
With just one guided casting, he had achieved Level 1 mastery over the Killing Curse—along with seven whole proficiency points!
And what did Level 1 mean?
It meant that even without Professor Mara's assistance, he could now cast the most basic version of Avada Kedavra on his own. Its magical framework had already been etched into his mind as actual knowledge.
"Unforgivable Curse... Professor Mara, you called this a simple spell?" Ian was still stuck in shock, far from feeling any excitement about learning a powerful new curse.
"In my era, there were no such definitions."
The witch stepped toward the wall and brushed her fingers against it. The lingering green light and cracks vanished with a single touch.
"A wizard who can't cast the Killing Curse when traveling... is usually just someone else's prey."
Hard to argue with that, Ian thought.
Mara was clearly from before the Middle Ages—at the latest. For wizards of that time, learning the Killing Curse before stepping outside might... actually make a bit of sense?
"Remember how you felt today."
She turned to him, eyes sharp.
"This magic demands strong killing intent. You may not grow up to be a good person, but at your age, generating such malice isn't easy... I'd suggest starting by hunting animals. It'll help build the intent you need for this spell."
"Of course, it won't compare to murder—or hatred toward another human. If you ever kill someone yourself, you'll truly master this spell."
Her voice was calm, patient—even nurturing.
But there was an edge to her words. A quiet seduction.
Of course—
What kind of white witch teaches her student Avada Kedavra on day one?
Ian's first instincts about her had probably been right all along.
"Well, I guess I'll moonlight as a butcher…" Ian muttered. No way he was taking her advice seriously. He wasn't that desperate for power. He wasn't Voldemort.
And besides—
He had already learned the spell. He didn't need to generate any more killing intent just to unlock it.
But he wasn't going to tell her that.
Not because he was trying to hide a trump card—
What was the point of playing strategy in a place like the Limbo Mirage?
As far as Ian knew, no one else had ever interacted with the souls here. Even if his secrets got exposed, they wouldn't affect his real life at all.
The reason he didn't tell her was simple: her opinion of him was already bad enough. No need to give her more reason to believe he was some born dark wizard.
After all—
To be able to learn the Killing Curse in a single attempt, even with guidance, suggested a disturbing amount of natural talent for dark magic.
Yeah.
Even Voldemort might raise an eyebrow and nod in respect.
Looking at the seven proficiency points on his panel, Ian couldn't help wishing he could level up all his spells this quickly.
"Professor Mara, can you teach me another spell? Maybe one that's... less deadly?"
He figured the Killing Curse might have been a one-time fluke.
"Greedy."
Her voice turned cold.
But a moment later, she laughed.
"Still—greed for knowledge isn't a bad thing. It's not something that inspires disgust."
Clearly, Ian's "thirst for learning" was something she rather appreciated.
But just as he was getting excited—
The witch didn't cast or instruct. Instead, she smiled teasingly and said:
"Are you sure you have time to learn another spell?"
Maybe—
She had some ability to sense how long Ian could stay in the Limbo Mirage. Because almost as soon as she finished speaking, he felt the world begin to blur.
"Ah!?"
His body started fading.
Everything around him felt like it was pulling away... And as his soul began to retreat from this spiritual sanctuary, he vaguely saw Mara tear a corner off her dress.
She wrote something on it.
Then placed the cloth fragment in his hand.
"Consider it your homework."
"Don't disappoint me, dear apprentice…"
The mirage dissolved.
Reality returned.
When Ian opened his eyes and glanced at the clock,
The witch's soft, expectant voice still echoed in his ears.
He sat up.
Lifted his hand.
And there it was—crossing the boundary between life and death, a fragment of fabric bearing ancient knowledge, resting silently in his palm, glowing silver under the moonlight.
(End of Chapter)