Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

If you could only read one fantasy novel in your life, it would probably be "Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars".

Freya had been standing there ever since Regulus touched that thing.

Time is ambiguous here; she remained motionless, simply staring at him, unaware of how much time had passed.

Seeing that he finally made a move, her expression changed noticeably.

Her gaze lingered on his face, noticing his clear eyes, normal demeanor, and the familiar smile she was beginning to recognize.

Freya quietly breathed a sigh of relief, this time with a larger movement, her chest rising and falling noticeably.

Regulus looked at her and his heart stirred.

Whether it was for mission reasons or simply to see that he was alright, it was a sign of concern. She stood there waiting for who knows how long, just to make sure he was okay.

He smiled and nodded, then gestured with his eyes, "Give it a try?"

But deep down he didn't want Freya to come into contact with that thing; he didn't know if she had such a strong sense of self.

He himself didn't feel it was that difficult, not because he was particularly determined or unmoved by external things.

Seeing the clearly more powerful path, he was actually tempted.

But he was even more convinced that he could reach the same level, or even surpass it, on his own.

He simply believed in himself.

He firmly believed that he was on the right path, that this path would lead him to where he wanted to go, and that even if it was slower and less efficient, the scenery he would eventually reach would be no worse than anyone else's.

He couldn't say where this belief came from, but it was there, rooted in the deepest part of his consciousness, unshakable.

If defined by success or failure, Regulus didn't know whether he had succeeded or failed, since he hadn't gained any power from it.

If someone else comes here, touches it, receives guidance, or even directly gains some kind of fundamental power, the price is that they will no longer be their original self.

So, is it considered a success or a failure?

He quickly dismissed the thought, realizing it was pointless to dwell on it. He just needed to stay true to his own path; other people's business was none of his concern.

But if everyone who comes into contact with that thing will undergo the same test of reconstructing magic, he doesn't know how much of Freya's magic system is her own.

Can she be as steadfast in her own path as he is?

He didn't know if Freya could do it, so he didn't want her to try.

But he wouldn't make decisions for others; he could only be responsible for himself, and Freya, the only one who could be responsible for her was herself.

If Freya wants to go, he will tell her what she might encounter, and then she can decide for herself.

Freya saw Regulus's gaze and understood what he meant. She simply shook her head slightly, but the gesture was clear.

She didn't know exactly what that thing was, nor what she would encounter if she touched it, but she had a feeling that she shouldn't try.

Or rather, we shouldn't try it now.

The feeling was vague, not based on rational judgment, but more like an intuition.

From childhood to adulthood, she would occasionally have this feeling. That person said it was something in her blood, though it was far less clear than his, but it could be trusted in crucial moments.

Just like now, she trusts her intuition.

Regulus looked at her and his smile widened. He didn't say anything more, but simply nodded approvingly.

Freya rolled her eyes at his expression and muttered to herself, "What a brat."

The two turned around and returned along the same route.

As they walked across the glowing ground, the patterns beneath their feet lit up and then dimmed, as if bidding them farewell.

Regulus reached out to Freya from where he had just landed, raising his hand slightly.

Freya's eyes widened slightly, as if she wanted to glare at him, but she still reached out and grasped his hand.

Regulus cast a flight spell, carrying Freya upwards, and they re-entered the sea.

Once you pass through that invisible membrane, the mental pressure descends once more.

But contrary to the expected gradual increase in pressure, it started extremely light, like when you first descend, and the pressure gradually increased as you descended deeper.

He immediately understood.

It goes through one round from top to bottom, and another round from bottom to top. Regardless of the direction, it involves a complete process from light to heavy.

Regardless of seawater depth or actual pressure, this is the experience we must go through.

The oppression came like a tidal wave, but this time, it was no longer unbearable for Regulus.

The light of Betelgeuse shines steadily in the spiritual world, blue-white, gentle and stable.

The oppressive force surged forth, touching the light, and like the tide crashing against a reef, it naturally parted, flowing past on both sides.

The oppression remains, but it cannot shake him.

He even had the energy to feel it—its coldness, its vastness, and the sense of insignificance it evoked.

But now it's just that, it no longer poses a threat.

He looked at Freya, whose condition was also stable, with occasional flashes of blue light in her eyes, which were particularly clear in the dark seawater.

He looked at Freya, whose condition was also stable, with occasional flashes of blue light in her eyes, which were particularly clear in the dark seawater.

The two continued their ascent.

In the zone of mental oppression, the sense of time and space is blurred, and one cannot tell how much time has passed. The depth can only be judged by the intensity of the oppression.

Light couldn't penetrate, and the surroundings were gloomy. Occasionally, bioluminescent plankton would drift by, illuminating a small patch of seawater before fading into darkness again.

At this moment, Regulus suddenly stopped. He looked up and saw five figures diving down dozens of meters above him.

He recognized one of them, the island leader, whose dark red pattern on his mask was faintly visible even in the dim light.

He was accompanied by another person, the survivor who had escaped with him.

Behind them were three strangers.

Regulus's magical perception told him that the three people were stronger; their magic was thick and cold, unlike any of the masked people he had encountered before, like the difference between the deep sea and the shallow sea.

They should be core members of Whispers of the Abyss.

All five of them were adorned with Bubble Head Curse and Iron Armor Curse, with transparent bubbles covering their heads and semi-transparent barriers protecting their entire bodies.

Clearly, they didn't experience the psychological pressure zone; they were simply diving in the sea.

Regulus knew that they had not obtained the specific coordinates, nor the name "Sleeping Abyss," and did not know that the place they were searching for was on the seabed.

Or they might know, but knowing wouldn't help; all they could do was track them.

That's normal. The ocean is so vast and the sky is so high. From a distance and high above, as long as you determine the general location, it's not difficult to find the ship anchored on the sea.

Once the ship is found, we can locate where they dived.

But that zone of mental oppression requires permission to enter, and the information sealed in the documents is the key, which they do not possess.

Therefore, they were still under the Bubble Head Curse and the Iron Armor Curse, and could only dive into the sea like ordinary wizards.

Regulus and Freya dived a little higher, while the five people opposite them also dived a little lower. The two sides faced each other in the seawater, less than twenty meters apart.

The island leader's gaze fell on Regulus, and he subconsciously drifted back a little.

The unseen spell, the raging flames, the burning island—the memories are still fresh.

The survivors around him had the same reaction.

The other three didn't make any move, just floated there quietly, gently swaying with the seawater.

Now is not the time for war.

Judging from their magical perception, the worst of the three newcomers was about the same as Orion.

He and Freya were still in the mental pressure zone. Although they were in good condition, it would be unwise to fight an opponent of this level in the deep sea.

Especially since the enemy is skilled in naval warfare, they are likely to be equally adept at naval combat.

Regulus looked at Freya, and Freya looked at him. They didn't say anything, relying on their tacit understanding.

Apparition.

The two figures disappeared at the same time, leaving only two empty bubbles, which were filled with seawater and quickly dissipated.

When they reappeared, they landed on the bow of the ship.

The ship remained in the same spot. It was late at night, and the moonlight shone on the deck. The sea was calm and undisturbed.

Regulus cast a drying spell, and moisture rose from his body, bringing a warm sensation, as did Freya.

Before they could catch their breath, five figures appeared one after another on the sea ahead.

Those who whispered in the abyss, they apparated and followed.

The five people stood on the sea, as if they were standing on solid ground, but their bodies rose and fell with the waves. The moonlight shone on them, illuminating the bone masks covered with dense runes.

The man in the lead stepped forward, but he wasn't the island's leader; he was one of the three core members.

The runes on his mask were denser and deeper, gleaming dimly in the moonlight.

He looked up at the two people on the boat, his voice old and rough, as if he hadn't spoken in a long time: "Miss Eisenhart, Mr. Black."

His gaze swept over Regulus and Freya in turn, then landed on Regulus: "Good evening."

Regulus raised his eyebrows slightly.

He wasn't surprised that his name was called out. The person opposite him had strong magical energy feedback, clearly a leader, so naturally he would pay more attention to external information.

His Blake features were too obvious: slightly curly black hair, gray eyes, and his physical characteristics were hardly a secret, so it wasn't surprising that he was recognized.

Freya didn't speak. She waved her wand, and blue flames surged from her body, swirling and dancing, enveloping her and illuminating the sea in front of her.

She stood at the bow of the boat, looking down at the five people below with a stern expression.

Regulus glanced at her, then he activated Betelgeuse.

The image of guardianship rises in the spiritual world. The newly lit star emits a blue-white light, which merges with magic and seeps into the raging fire along the direction of the magic flow.

Orange-red flames also surged from his body.

In sync with the changes in his spirit and will, the flames also changed. His more resilient spirit allowed him to gain deeper control over the Fiery Blaze, and his more steadfast will allowed him to suppress it more effectively.

Fiendfire is still Fiendfire, its nature of expansion, devouring, violence, and destruction remains, but in Regulus's hands, it becomes increasingly tamed.

The orange-red flames swirled around him, now taking on a more subtle, almost defensive, tendency, as if they were shielding him from the force that was meant to strike him.

But unlike the passive barrier of the Ironclad Curse, it is more proactive, like a guardian.

They swirled and danced around his body, almost identical to Freya's blue flame, only in color.

Regulus looked down at himself, then at Freya.

Same flame design.

Freya glanced at him, her lips twitched, but she said nothing, continuing to look down with a stern expression.

Regulus looked down at the abyss opposite and whispered to the five people. The tip of his right wand glowed with a gray-green light, and the first form of the Disintegration Charm could be activated at any time.

His left hand was also preparing; the preparatory steps for the second form of the spell had been completed silently, with unseen ripples ready to spread at any moment.

The aged voice from below spoke again: "We just want to talk about what's down there."