Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

The area suddenly fell silent, and the sound of waves crashing against the rocks became clear again.

Freya and the other two masked men stopped fighting almost simultaneously and looked this way.

But all they saw was a wisp of ash blown away by the sea breeze, drifting down into the night and disappearing into the crevices of the rocks.

The two masked men stood still, without moving.

Freya remained standing still.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then Regulus noticed a change in Freya's expression.

Her eyes were wider than usual, her pupils slightly contracted, and her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something but didn't.

consternation.

Her reaction to a twelve-year-old child turning a living person into ashes with a spell was normal, but it still amused him.

Regulus raised the corners of his mouth slightly, the Disintegration Spell had been perfectly executed, and he was satisfied.

This spell cost three thousand Galleons to develop, plus ten days of his research, countless failures, and the last few days when he pushed himself to his limit.

The cost is indeed not low, but the effect is worth the price.

This was the first enemy to die at his hands, so cleanly and decisively, leaving nothing behind.

A thought flashed through Regulus's mind: this must be the most environmentally friendly spell ever.

No need to dispose of the body, no need to clean up the scene, no need to consider any follow-up troubles. The ashes are blown away by the sea breeze, blending into the sea and the rocks, and no one can find out.

He quickly composed himself; the battle was still ongoing.

Freya and the two masked men started fighting again, the light of spells crisscrossing in the night, the air filled with the vibrations of colliding magic.

The two masked men took a few steps back, distancing themselves from Freya.

Regulus moved closer to Freya, his eyes fixed on the two masked men opposite him.

The other party showed absolutely no emotional fluctuation due to their companion's death. From beginning to end, they never relaxed their guard or communicated.

The existence and disappearance of that companion seemed to have no meaning to them, like a wave rolling away on the sea, nothing changed.

But Regulus could sense that they were thinking of retreating.

As he approached, the two masked men began to change their movements. They stopped trying to attack and instead focused more on moving around, covering each other, and moving closer to the edge of the cliff.

Whatever their purpose in coming here, given the current situation, they are incapable of accomplishing it.

With their companions instantly eliminated and the opponent's strength exceeding expectations, continuing the fight would only increase the losses.

Regulus didn't rush to make a move; he simply pointed his wand at the masked man in the lead, the gray-green light at the tip of the wand subtly concealed, ready to be activated at any moment.

As a threat, this is very effective.

The masked man at the head of the group immediately noticed this, and his movements became extremely fast, with his feet frequently changing direction, leaving afterimages in the night.

He was dodging Regulus's wand, already knowing the consequences of being targeted by that grey-green spell.

Freya clearly felt the pressure decrease, she raised her wand high and recited a difficult incantation.

As soon as the syllable ended, a bolt of lightning struck down from the night sky, its silvery-white light instantly illuminating the entire reef area.

Lightning struck the spot where one of them had just been standing, shattering the rocks and sending debris flying.

During a break in her spellcasting, she glanced at Regulus.

Because of the battle, her gaze was focused and sharp, but when it fell on Regulus, something flashed across her face quickly.

Then, she rolled her eyes briefly, almost instantly.

On the battlefield where life and death were at stake, this valiant and aloof German witch, standing at 1.88 meters tall, rolled her eyes at him.

Regulus wasn't sure if he'd seen it wrong, but that moment definitely happened.

He found it somewhat interesting, and even thought that Freya was kind of cute in this way.

Of course, Regulus wouldn't use the word "cute" to describe her; he felt "vivid" was a more appropriate word.

The contrast between this expression and that of a powerful and efficient witch is indeed interesting.

Then he noticed Freya's spell, which was quite unique.

Or rather, it has a very strong personal style.

Freya chanted the spell in a very low voice, but at an extremely fast pace. The syllables of the spell seemed to be connected in one continuous stream, making it impossible to hear the specific pronunciations. She also waved her wand with a small amplitude, just a slight flick of her wrist.

But the power of a lightning strike is immense.

A silvery-white bolt of lightning exploded in the night, shattering the rocks into pieces. The remaining lightning streaked across the ground, crackling and hissing.

This was just one attack; she cast it three times in a row, with each attack less than half a second apart.

Regulus had never seen this method of casting spells before.

The lightning spell cast by an ordinary wizard usually summons a blinding bright white lightning bolt with a straight trajectory. When it falls, it explodes into tree-like arcs of electricity, creating a powerful impact, but its range is difficult to control.

Freya's lightning spell is different.

Her lightning was silvery-white with a faint blue halo around the edges, and its trajectory as it fell had a subtle arc, as if guided by an invisible hand.

It strikes the target precisely, does not disperse upon impact, and concentrates its energy, leaving a small, charred crater on the ground with clean edges.

It is efficient, precise, and carries a certain emphasis on pragmatism.

Furthermore, the rhythm of casting spells, the form of magical bursts, and even the texture of the spell's light effects all exude a unique personal touch.

She cast her spells with elegance and composure, as if conducting a symphony rather than engaging in battle.

A thought flashed through his mind: Where had he seen this style described before?

There was no time to think it through; the two masked men on the other side began to cooperate.

The one in the lead retreated while dodging Regulus's wand.

Another one stood in front of him, no longer attacking proactively, but instead using various defensive spells to cover his movements.

Ironclad Curse, Deflection Curse, Barrier Curse, and some others I'd never seen before—the incantations intertwined around them, forming a defensive line.

The masked man at the head began chanting incantations in a low, slow voice, with a sticky, gooey quality that seemed to be drilling directly into the brain.

The syllables of the incantation are not like human language, but more like the sounds of the deep sea, dull, oppressive, spreading outwards in waves.

Regulus could sense that the surrounding magical environment was beginning to change.

But it wasn't just a fluctuation of magic; there was something else involved, something that was spreading, silently like mist.

It has no color, no shape, no temperature, but it exists.

It touched the reef, but the reef remained a reef; it touched the waves, but the waves remained waves; it touched the very edge of his perception—

A chill rose from the depths of my consciousness, originating from the spiritual realm.

Regulus narrowed his eyes slightly. He knew that this was mental corruption, the kind of thing Freya had mentioned.

But then he noticed that Freya's fighting rhythm hadn't changed.

She continued casting spells and confronting another masked man, seemingly oblivious to the spreading, eerie fluctuations, or perhaps aware of them but utterly unconcerned.

She didn't even deliberately stop the masked man in the lead from chanting the incantation.

Regulus was puzzled.

What is Freya trying to do? What is she hiding? Or what is her purpose?

She clearly knew that Whispers of the Abyss was adept at mental corruption and knew that kind of magic was dangerous, but instead of stopping it, she let the other party cast the spell.

This doesn't make sense unless she wants to use the other person to test something, or she wants him to experience that kind of attack firsthand.

Regulus stopped looking at Freya and just stared at the masked man at the head, without making any move.

Regulus had many questions, but he didn't intend to stop it.

He also wanted to see what this mental erosion was all about, and what Freya was up to.

But all of this is predicated on the premise that you don't mess things up.

Regulus took a deep breath, magic flowed through his body, and a mental barrier was instantly erected.

The brain-sealing technique was activated, and he constructed a complex maze structure around his thoughts, nested layer upon layer, making it difficult to distinguish between truth and falsehood.

Any external consciousness that wants to reach the core must first pass through these labyrinths, and the labyrinths themselves are constantly changing, with the paths constantly being adjusted.

The fourth and a half stars of Orion shine brightly in the spiritual world, their light stable and intense, forming a solid anchor.

The magic circulates along the trajectory of the stars, and with each cycle, the mental barrier is strengthened.

He incorporated the imagery of the starry sky into the barrier.

The solid texture of stars, the order of their orbits, the eternity of their existence—all these things, honed through countless meditations, now become part of my mental defense.

The barrier is no longer a hard shell; it seems to have come alive. It flows, it breathes, and it can sense the intruder's intentions.

Regulus placed his core self-awareness at the center of his spiritual world, surrounded by the orbits of the stars, the labyrinth constructed by the Occupational Therapy, and layers upon layers of barriers.

He was ready, and the masked man on the other side had also completed his incantation.