I finally understood something crucial.
I was no longer just powerful.
I was alone.
In this wild, demon-infested world, I was the only wizard to ever exist.
No spellcraft traditions.No magical institutions.No rivals who understood what I was.
In the Demon Slayer world, strength came from muscles honed through hell and Breathing Styles passed down through bloodlines. But magic?
Magic was alien.
Dangerous.
Uncontested.
I was the sole master of it.
That realization should have made me feel invincible.
Instead, it terrified me.
I exhaled slowly, steadying myself as the weight of Tom Riddle's memories continued to settle into my mind. I could survive almost anything with my wizard's physique alone—enhanced by magic, reinforced by decades of combat instincts. Given time, I could probably live for two hundred years without issue.
But that wasn't enough.
Two hundred years still ended in death.
And death… death terrified me.
That fear wasn't new. It wasn't sudden.
It was inherited.
Tom Riddle's obsession burned inside me like a second heart—cold, calculating, relentless. The fear of ceasing to exist. Of fading. Of becoming nothing.
Immortality wasn't a desire.
It was a necessity.
My thoughts drifted, inevitably, to Horcruxes.
I scoffed quietly.
"No," I muttered. "Absolutely not."
I had his memories now. All of them. I'd lived through the consequences.
Splitting the soul wasn't brilliance—it was insanity.
I watched it happen from the inside. A charming, terrifyingly intelligent genius slowly degrading into something lesser. Reckless. Paranoid. Sloppy. A man who once planned decades ahead reduced to impulsive cruelty and theatrical stupidity.
And the body…
I clenched my jaw.
The snake-like face.The loss of humanity.The grotesque mockery of what he once was.
All for a method of immortality that didn't even guarantee sanity.
I refused to walk that path.
I needed something better.
Something cleaner.
Something that preserved me.
My gaze drifted downward, catching my reflection in a still pond nearby.
For a moment, I simply stared.
I looked… human.
More than that—I looked exactly like Tom Riddle in his prime.
Handsome.Sharp features.Dark, intelligent eyes that missed nothing.An expression that naturally commanded attention.
A face that inspired trust before fear.
Good.
Very good.
At least I hadn't inherited the worst of his physical mistakes.
I straightened slowly, rolling my shoulders as I assessed my surroundings again. Dense forest. No signs of civilization. No immediate threats—but that meant nothing in this world.
I needed information.
This era.This region.The current state of the Demon Slayer Corps.The presence—or absence—of Hashira nearby.
Power without knowledge was how people died stupid deaths.
And I would not die.
I turned in the direction where the forest thinned, magic humming quietly beneath my skin, Elder Wand warm in my grip.
"Looks like I need a town," I murmured.
With one last glance at the trees behind me, I stepped forward—toward civilization, secrets, and the first pieces of a far greater plan.