Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 338 The Wronged Baruch and the Magic Seed

Baruch paced around the doorway, never stopping for a moment.

A two-meter-long, eight-eyed giant spider squatted in front of the stone hut, its eight eyes staring at the 1.2-meter-wide door frame. It raised its front legs to measure the width, then lowered them, and measured the width again.

Then I confirmed it, but I still couldn't get in.

It moved to the side, intending to try the window.

The window was narrower than the door frame, and it peered in through its head, its eight eyes lined up side by side.

The two in the very center show Regulus sitting at the table, while the two on the far sides are completely obscured by the window frame, with only a blurry stone wall visible.

It turned its head to the side, pressed its left two eyes against it, but still couldn't see the whole thing. Then it turned to the right and this time it saw Regulus's profile.

Then Regulus stood up and went to the other side of the desk to get something. Its view was blocked by the wall, so it turned its head back to the left. Regulus had already gone back.

It retreated again, lay down at the doorway, tucked its eight legs in, and stared at the fireplace firelight shining through the door frame with its two main eyes.

It used to be the size of a palm, and the door frame was as wide as a city gate to it, allowing it to enter however it wanted. Now that it has returned to its original size, the door frame has become an insurmountable obstacle.

It wasn't really in a hurry, but it was definitely feeling a bit aggrieved.

Since it came with Regulus, it has never spent a night outside by itself.

It has a place in every corner of Hogwarts—in the desk drawer, on the corner of Grimmauld Place, on the roof, next to the pillow in Cornish cottages.

It's outside now, and Regulus is inside.

Baruch stood up again and walked around the hut, his footsteps making a thumping sound.

The stone walls, with their rough joints, were climbable, but the roof only had a chimney, so even if you climbed up, you couldn't get inside.

It circled back, lay down at the door, and pawed at the ground with its front paws, creating two shallow furrows.

Then it stood up again, circled in the opposite direction, continued circling, returned to the doorway, and lay down again.

It lay sprawled on the cold stone floor, its eight legs outstretched, its two main eyes fixed on the crack in the door. The firelight from the fireplace shone through the crack, drawing a thin orange line on its head.

It pressed its head against the crack in the door, its eight eyes half-closed, its chelicerae opening and closing occasionally, and then it remained still.

Lying here and lying inside are separated only by a door panel, but this door panel makes it feel like it has become wild again.

Regulus was inside, ignoring Baruch's commotion outside. On the table sat a fireproof stone box.

The inner walls of the stone box were glowing red from the fire, and the bottom was covered with a layer of charcoal. Several salamanders lay on the charcoal, their orange-red bodies almost blending into the embers in the firelight.

Adult salamanders are six to eight inches long, with a flat body, short and thick limbs, a round and blunt head, and a tail that accounts for one-third of their body length.

Dark gray scales are densely arranged on the body and limbs, and orange-red spots of varying sizes are scattered on the back from the shoulder blades to the tail root, with a bright color.

At high temperatures, these spots emit a faint light, like tiny lamps embedded in scales.

The scales on the abdomen are lighter, more yellowish-white, and so thin that you can vaguely see the pulsating blood vessels underneath.

The eyes have vertical pupils, orange-yellow irises, and the pupils shrink to a slit in the firelight.

They looked very comfortable lying on the embers, their limbs outstretched, their chins resting on the embers, and their tails patting the flames intermittently.

Occasionally, one of them would roll over, belly up, and roast itself for a bit, kicking its four short legs a few times in the air before rolling back over.

This thing isn't rare, it's easy to keep, easy to care for, and even easier to use.

The magical world has a long history of using fire lizards, most commonly for skinning them to make fireproof gloves.

Gloves made of salamander skin allow wizards to handle scalding cauldrons with their bare hands, making them standard equipment for alchemists and potion makers.

In the high-temperature alchemy workshop, the first thing an apprentice does is receive a pair of salamander skin gloves. Once the leather is worn through, they are ready to go out and earn money.

Salamander blood also has its uses; it's an essential ingredient in over a dozen high-level potions, especially those involving fire attributes.

The Ollivander family's wand care oil contains a trace amount of salamander blood, which is said to help the wand maintain stable performance in high-temperature environments.

The cost of raising them is extremely low, and the breeding environment is very easy to replicate. All you need is an iron pot, a pile of charcoal, and occasionally a few moths thrown in as food, and the salamanders can thrive.

The fireplace in any wizarding family can be used as a breeding ground, but the most valuable part of the industry chain is actually herd management.

Wild fire lizards have a fire affinity that is 10% to 20% stronger than those that are artificially bred. The wild populations near the Fire Dragon Reserve are being watched by major potion merchants, and harvesting permits are being sold for hundreds of gallons each.

Regulus opened the stone box, took one out, and placed it on the table.

The salamander left the charcoal fire, looking rather unhappy. The orange-red spots on its scales dimmed, and it began to crawl all over the table, its four short legs stomping on the wood as it turned its head to look for a heat source.

It climbed to the edge of the table, peeked out to feel the temperature outside, and then withdrew.

He placed his palm on it, and natural magic was released, enveloping the fire lizard.

The connection was established with almost no resistance. Salamanders are small, low-intelligence magical creatures with low total magical power, simple structure, and little sense of defense, so the magical power was easily connected upon contact.

He deepened his perception of magic.

The magical structure of the fire salamander is extremely simple.

He had seen seven and a half circles of mandrake, two and a half circles of willow, and the fire lizard's circle wasn't even a circle; it was more like a straight line, with only one tendency operating within it from beginning to end.

Flame affinity.

This magical power tends to permeate its entire body, from its scales to its blood, internal organs, and bones; wherever it flows, it becomes immune to fire.

It is neither heat-insulating nor heat-resistant; magic itself has this property, and flames lose their ability to cause damage when they come into contact with this magic.

The decomposition tendency of mandrake and the vibrational conduction of willow are the same thing. The magic of magical creatures naturally carries a certain tendency, which is their way of existence.

But apart from being immune to fire, fire lizards have no other magical abilities. They can't run fast, can't bite, and their skin isn't very thick. They can't even escape when an owl snatches them away.

With a simple structure and a pure function, the entire species' magic serves only one purpose: to prevent flames from harming it.

Its fire affinity is very strong; an adult salamander can lie in a hot coal fire and its scales will not change color at all, but it can do nothing else.

The Bowtruckle can communicate with plants, but it only excels in a single attribute: its magic can sense the emotions and state of trees, but that's all it can do.

Pu Rongrong's magic was so weak that it was almost imperceptible; it was merely alive and had no noteworthy magical tendencies.

Some magical creatures are much more complex.

The fire dragon possesses flame-breathing, hardened scales, lift for flight, and high-temperature resistance.

Its magical structure is a multi-layered and intersecting complex system, where each loop works independently yet collaboratively with the others.

The bird-snake can freely scale its body according to the size of the space. This ability involves spatial perception and real-time adjustment of its own magical structure, making it far more complex than single-attribute creatures.

Thestrals' spatial perception is an extremely advanced magical tendency that allows space to recede. This is a complex and coordinated combination of multiple magical powers, and the entire magical system is frighteningly precise.

Needless to say, the phoenix is ​​reborn from the ashes, possesses healing tears, can fly with its weight, can penetrate any magical barrier, and is in an immortal cycle.

It is not just a collection of various abilities; each magical circuit supports the others, making it a magical system where the whole is far greater than the sum of its parts.

This difference is not about degree; it is the magical structure that species have been shaped in the course of evolution that determines their upper limit.

The Salamence's maximum potential is fire resistance; it doesn't need to do anything else. Evolution has given it a magical structure just enough to survive in flames.

The phoenix's potential far surpasses that of any other creature of its kind; its magical structure is a complex system of nested layers, where each loop works in conjunction with the others.

Simple things may be focused and efficient, but complex things are needed to cope with changing environments.

This has nothing to do with strength or weakness; it's a difference in survival strategies.

But simplicity does not equate to weakness; the salamander's ability to survive in flames is unmatched by most other magical creatures.

If given the chance, he would like to examine the magical structures of those magical creatures one by one.

How does the Thestral's spatial travel allow space to regress? How does the Phoenix's life reignite from the ashes?

How does the bird-snake's scaling ability link its spatial perception with its own magical structure in real time?

Do the fire dragon's flamethrower and the fire salamander's fire affinity share any common underlying structure?

"We'll talk about these issues later," Regulus said, pulling himself out of his thoughts and getting back to work.

He immersed his magical perception into the fire lizard's body, found the flame-friendly magic, and began to extract it.

Natural magic enveloped the fire lizard's magic and drew it outwards, condensing into a small ball of orange-red light at the fingertips. The light was not very bright, and there were extremely fine lines flowing on the surface. It felt slightly warm when held in the palm of the hand.

He held the ball of light in his palm, closed his eyes, and began to replicate it in his consciousness.

The fire lizard's magical structure is a node that is activated when it senses flames. Its magical tendency switches from the normal state to a flame affinity, and its entire magical power instantly takes on this attribute.

The structure was clear, and it took less than half a minute to complete a precise replication in the consciousness space. There were no branches or levels; it was just a single point.

The Magic Seed is the material embodiment of the fact that the Salamander is not afraid of fire.

The salamander that had been extracted lay motionless on the table.

The orange-red spots on its scales all darkened, turning into a dull, earthy brown. Its four legs lay limply on the table, and it stopped flapping its tail.

Its eyes were half-closed, its vertical pupils were dilated, its reactions became sluggish, and it no longer looked for heat sources.

He didn't die, but he was severely weakened.

Having its magic seed removed is equivalent to uprooting a large portion of its core abilities.

But as long as they are not purged all at once, they will not die, they will just languish for a period of time.

Whether they can recover depends on their own fate.

Regulus put it back on the embers of the stone box and let it roast on its own.

When the salamander encountered a heat source, it instinctively pressed itself against the charcoal, gave a slight kick with its four legs, and then remained still.

To be on the safe side, he took two more adult fire lizards, extracted a portion of magic from each, and fused the three portions of magic seeds together.

The larvae escaped unscathed; they were too small and lacked the magic to be suitable for sample extraction.

Three adult salamanders lay motionless on the embers, their scales dull gray.

He glanced at them but didn't pay them any more attention.

He doesn't care whether he can recover to his previous level.

When we need to use rare and high-end magical creatures like bird-snakes or invisible beasts in the future, we will study in detail how to minimize losses during extraction.

Salamanders aren't worth the effort.

Next up is Baruch.