Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

As if passing through a membrane, Regulus felt light, his feet lost their footing, and gravity returned.

He and Freya fell out of the sea and plummeted downwards.

Regulus instantly cast a flight spell to steady himself, and at the same time reached out and grabbed Freya by the waist, pulling her under his arm.

Freya froze. She struggled slightly, then stopped moving, her body stiff and suspended there, as if she didn't know how to react.

Regulus was oblivious, as he was looking around.

This is a space, beneath the sea, a space isolated by magic.

The dome was very high, and they floated in the air, surrounded by darkness, as if swallowed by darkness.

There was light all around, soft and even, from nowhere, just shining.

Below was land, rocky, flat, stretching into the distance to the horizon.

Regulus descended slowly, landed, and released his grip once he was steady.

Freya stood to the side, her expression somewhat unnatural.

She straightened her clothes and tidied her hair, unsure where to look, until her gaze finally settled on the darkness in the distance.

Regulus glanced at her, said nothing, and began to look around.

The space was very quiet; he couldn't even hear his own breathing. He tried to clear his throat, and the sound came out, but it was immediately absorbed by the space and couldn't travel very far.

He looked down at the rock beneath his feet. Its surface was smooth, but there were no signs of artificial carving. It looked more like it had been naturally formed under some kind of pressure.

The rocks are dark gray, with tiny crystals occasionally embedded within them, gleaming faintly in the surrounding light of unknown origin.

There seemed to be something beckoning from afar; it was just a vague feeling, yet incredibly clear.

"Over there." Regulus gestured with his chin in that direction.

Freya followed his gaze and nodded.

The two started walking forward.

My footsteps landed on the rocks; I could feel them, but I made no sound.

Regulus tried again, stomping his foot hard, but still no sound came out.

He looked at Freya, and Freya looked at him. Both of them had the same confirmation in their eyes: the place was swallowing up sound.

Regulus sensed it carefully and realized that this might not be a magical effect, but rather that the physical rules here were different from those outside.

After walking for a while, Regulus noticed that the patterns on the ground were beginning to change.

Faint lines appeared on the originally uniform dark gray rock. The lines were very fine, like naturally formed cracks, but upon closer inspection, they were too regular.

As you walk further ahead, the lines become denser.

As you walk further ahead, the lines begin to glow.

As they continued deeper, the light grew brighter and the lines thicker, transforming from fine threads into patterns, and from patterns into veins, like the blood vessels of a living creature.

Regulus stopped, crouched down, and reached out to touch the glowing patterns.

The moment his fingertips touched the rock, the patterns suddenly lit up, much brighter than before, as if in response to his touch.

The light flowed forward along the patterns at great speed, heading into the distance.

He withdrew his hand, and the light immediately dimmed, returning to its original brightness.

He stood up and looked at Freya. She also squatted down and tried it, and had the same reaction. The light shone and flowed forward, then dimmed after she withdrew her hand.

The two exchanged a glance and continued walking.

The patterns grew denser, the light brighter, and the flowing light wove into a net beneath our feet, extending into the darkness at the edge of our vision.

The surrounding rocks also began to change, from flat to undulating, as if they had been kneaded by some force, forming strange folds and curves.

Regulus noticed that the direction of those folds and curves all pointed in one direction: the place that was calling from afar.

That's the core area.

They continued walking, for an unknown amount of time, in this space that swallowed up sound, even the sense of time became blurred.

You can only count by the steps you take, one step, two steps, three steps, but you forget them as you count.

Until those glowing patterns suddenly stopped.

A dozen meters ahead of them, the patterns on the ground all converged, forming a huge circular area.

The lines at the edge of the area are as dense as blood vessels, spiraling inwards and finally disappearing at the center.

There was a mass of something that defies description... It was not a physical object, nor light, nor anything that could be defined.

It is there, yet it seems not to be there, constantly changing, like a reflection in water ruffled by the wind, like the air twisted above a flame, like a light seen through thick fog.

Each change reflects a different scene.

Sometimes it is the endless deep sea, dark, cold, and bottomless.

Sometimes they are distant stars, dazzling, bright, and untouchable.

The two scenes alternate, sometimes merging together, as if the stars should hang on the seabed.

Regulus stood in front of that thing, feeling a strange sensation; he could sense it.

But he didn't use any senses—magical senses, spatial senses, or even sight, smell, or hearing.

That's another way; it exists directly in his consciousness.

He knows he's alive without having to think about it, and he knows he's breathing without having to perceive it.

It was there, deep within his consciousness, alongside his cognition, memories, and emotions.

It didn't do anything proactively; it simply existed. But its mere existence was enough to make it impossible for him to ignore.

Regulus stood there, feeling his consciousness involuntarily drawing closer to it.

Like two adjacent bodies of water with no boundary in between, they naturally begin to merge.

He wanted to resist, but didn't know what to resist, because it wasn't attacking him; it was simply there.

After perceiving this existence, his consciousness instinctively began to want to understand it.

To understand, you need to get closer.

If you get close, you will make contact.

Contact will influence you.

Regulus took a deep breath, steadied himself, and activated his star-track meditation, causing the fourth and a half stars of Orion to light up in his mental world.

The light was clear and steady. He anchored his consciousness on those stars, preventing it from continuing to move closer to that thing.

Regulus turned around and looked at Freya, who was standing a little further back and had not moved any further.

When Regulus looked over, she simply shook her head slightly.

Freya didn't know what this thing in front of her was. She had come here to accompany Regulus and carry out that person's arrangements.

But having reached this point, she had also realized that the answer to that question was this.

But she doesn't intend to get involved, at least not now.

She didn't know how it worked, or how it would affect a wizard; when two people are together, one of them has to stay conscious.

Regulus looked at her, nodded, then looked away and looked back at it.

It is still there, constantly changing, alternating between the deep sea and the stars.

He wasn't in a hurry to do anything; he waited to see what it would do.

The next moment, something in Regulus's consciousness was touched.

It bypassed all mental defenses and went directly to the magic he possessed, the Disintegration Spell.

The spell he had spent ten days and exhausted twenty mandrakes to develop was extracted from his consciousness.

It was as if someone had taken the spell from his mind, placed it in front of him, and made him see it for himself.

Then, the information surfaced.

"Disintegration Spell"

The voice had no source, as if it had suddenly come to mind, but its content did not belong to him.

"You sense the tendency to decompose in the mandrake, and then reproduce it in your own way. You observe, understand, transform, and create. This path is the right one."

Regulus felt a slight stirring in his heart. Was this approval?

But the next sentence follows immediately.

"But have you ever considered the true nature of the decomposition tendency you've detected?"

The Disintegration Curse unfolded in his consciousness, its structure, principles, and operation laid out before him like a blueprint.

"You let it act on matter, disintegrate its structure, and turn it into dust. You believe that your will drives the magic and accomplishes all of this."

"But the truth is, you've just learned to follow the rules that already exist in the world."

The information became profound, as if revealing something he had been ignoring.

"Entropy increases, order flows towards disorder, and all things will eventually return to chaos. This is not something you created, nor is it even something created by magic; it is the rule of the world itself."

The mandrake just happened to occupy a small part of its space, and you, you've only learned to use that small part.

"The reason your Disintegration Spell is so powerful is not because of your talent, not because of your efforts, but because you have touched a rule at the bottom of the world."

You are merely its executor, not its master.

Regulus didn't speak; he wanted to hear what else it could say.

"If you understand this, you can go further. The Disintegration Charm can no longer be a spell; it can be a passage between you and that rule."

You don't need to chant incantations or make gestures; you just need to allow that rule to pass through you and act on the target.

"That's true disintegration. It doesn't need your magic; the world will do what it's always been meant to do."

The message continues to be transmitted.

"But the price is that you have to accept that you are not the creator, you are just the executor, and your pride, your sense of accomplishment, and your confirmation of your talent are all just illusions."

Regulus's mental world rippled slightly.

The information made sense, but he didn't intend to accept it.

That had nothing to do with pride; it was simply because his path was not the same.

He is an observer, an understander, a transformer, and a creator; he is never anyone's executor, not even the rules of the world.

As he was still thinking, another spell was triggered in his consciousness.

Guardian Spell.

Immerse yourself in reading Chapter 184: You're Right, But I Don't Agree (Please Subscribe and Vote for Monthly Tickets). Please click here.