Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 434 New Combat Methods

With the appearance sorted out, the next step is magic; a new face alone isn't enough.

A wizard with a keen sense of magic can capture the essence of a person's magic with just a glance.

The appearance has changed, but the magic remains the same; experienced people can still remember the feeling.

No matter where I am in the future, I will inevitably have to deal with this type of person.

You might not recognize who he is, but you'll remember what he looks like.

Once someone is remembered, the next time you encounter them, you'll recognize them just by their magical aura; any attempt to disguise it will be futile.

So we have to change the way magic works too.

His original magical characteristics are very clear.

Calm, restrained, precise, the magic was compressed within his body, flowing smoothly with minimal fluctuations. The edges of each spell were neatly trimmed, with no excess spilling out.

If a perceptive person were to probe closer, they would only encounter an extremely thin and smooth shell, devoid of excess heat or any outward sharpness. Everything is inside; there is nothing on the outside.

His magic was always like this; it was innate and didn't need to be controlled to become like this.

This is his trademark, and it's also his consistent style.

Now we need to reverse the approach, switching from a calm, restrained, and precise style to an outward-looking, aggressive style.

The magic must leak out, overflow, and form a scorching, restless, and aggressive aura on the body's surface.

Light leaking out isn't enough; simply losing control will cause magic to dissipate like a shapeless fog.

A true sense of oppression needs direction, it needs texture, it needs to make people feel that this magic is about to explode at any moment, but the direction of the explosion must be towards oneself.

He closed his eyes, his consciousness sank into the depths of his mind, and summoned the explosive imagery of Betelgeuse.

A red supergiant star, located on the left shoulder of Orion, with a mass dozens of times that of the Sun.

The surface temperature is much lower than that of a main sequence star, all the energy is churning inside, and the outer layer of matter is constantly expanding and contracting, and may collapse into a supernova at any time.

Flames, expanding, releasing outwards, unstable, scorching, ready to explode at any moment—from the day they were lit, they became the anchor of explosive power.

He took just a tiny bit, enough to give the magic a restless quality.

The image of Betelgeuse seeped outward along the magical circulation, intertwined with his magic, and then overflowed from the body's surface, forming a scorching aura around the body.

The magic took on the explosive feel of Betelgeuse, its edges became rough, and it began to surge outward, possessing sharpness, warmth, and aggression.

If a highly perceptive wizard were standing next to him right now, what he would touch would be a raging fire, its surface churning, heat waves radiating outwards, its magic restless and ready to explode at any moment.

This doesn't match Regulus Black's cold and restrained image at all.

It is harder to manufacture the imprecise with precision than to manufacture the truly precise.

His magical instincts always tend to be withdrawn, the more steadily he suppresses them, the better.

Now you need to suppress this instinct, actively let the magic leak out, and at the same time maintain the shape and direction of the leak.

Left-handed people can force themselves to write with their right hand, but it requires sustained concentration.

Fortunately, after the imagery of Betelgeuse was infused with magic, the leakage became a new state of equilibrium.

His mental strength had been repeatedly honed through the Star Orbit Meditation over the past two years. Maintaining an extra layer of imagery output was more difficult than it was to recover, so this burden could be completely ignored.

After a few tries, it stabilized.

The person in the water mirror stood under the sphere of light, with long silver hair draped over his shoulders, amber vertical pupils gleaming with golden light, and a layer of oppressive heat emanating from his strong features.

Magic emanated from his body, causing the air around him to distort slightly and light to bend as it passed through.

The combat style also needs to be changed accordingly.

Logically speaking, he went to chat with Dumbledore, so there shouldn't have been any fighting.

But Dumbledore's movements wouldn't stop at safe outposts; the things the old man was busy with outside meant frequent travel.

Some areas are too close to Voldemort's core territory, disputed areas, gray areas where both sides are infiltrating, and Death Eaters are also searching for them.

Following him means sharing the route and all the unexpected events that may occur along the way.

Of course, the old man was safe in his own right.

Even if Voldemort himself were to appear, Dumbledore's power would be sufficient to protect him.

In any other situation, whether it's being surrounded by Death Eaters or encountering danger during an investigation, the old man could probably solve it with just one finger.

But he didn't want to be someone who needed to be taken care of, someone who was an equal, not a burden to others.

Dumbledore probably wouldn't think that way. The old man probably felt that he was still a child who needed protection, and that taking care of him only required a little attention.

That's the old man's problem; he doesn't think that way, nor does he accept it.

He went to see Dumbledore to discuss the issues; he went there with his own thoughts and strength.

He is not a little wizard who needs to be protected.

In fact, he wasn't that fragile.

Most of the wizards in Dumbledore's camp might not be as good as him in a real fight.

The Order of the Phoenix certainly has elites, but not that many.

Most of them only know a few standard combat spells. They rely on numbers and courage to fight Death Eaters. In a one-on-one fight, not many of them can hold their own against Bella.

He doesn't need anyone to protect him; he can take care of himself and solve problems in any emergency without Dumbledore's intervention or anyone remembering someone who shouldn't exist.

Moreover, the new identity is not just for following the old man as an accessory.

The appearance has been changed, the magical texture has been adjusted, it's like creating a completely new person from head to toe. It would be a waste to use this disguise only for standing and chatting.

There are places Regulus Black can never reach.

Close to Dumbledore's position, close to the edge of the clash between the Death Eaters and the Phoenix Society, close to certain people who shouldn't be around Dumbledore.

But with a different face and a different playing style, they can get in and have a go.

Let's see how far Voldemort's influence has extended, what kind of wizards are operating in the shadows, and whether the anchor points planted in the werewolf camp have changed.

It's more interesting to see for yourself than to wait for an unexpected event to happen to you.

He was never used to passively accepting things. Whether an accident would happen or not was an accident, but going out to find it himself was another matter. Having the opportunity to see the world was better than just following the old man around.

If there's a road ahead, but you don't know where it leads, then go and see for yourself. It's a rare opportunity, and it would be a waste not to take advantage of it.

Regulus jumped off Baruch's back and landed in the middle of the open space.

The orb of light still hung overhead, illuminating the entire open space.

He flexed his wrists and began the test.

The previous strategy was to control the field precisely from a distance, standing at a distance and accurately casting spells.

Each move was calculated with precise trajectory and timing, gradually compressing the opponent's space and crushing them without giving them any chance to get close.

That was the calm and composed Regulus; now it's the other way around.

Switch to a close-quarters pressure approach, shorten the combat distance, get close to fight, use body movement in conjunction with close-range spellcasting, and end the battle before the opponent can react.

The body I had honed through nearly two years of Star Orbit Meditation came in handy. My reaction speed was fast enough, my bones were strong enough, and my muscles were powerful enough to support high-speed close-range movement.

The Swiftness and Sprint spells in the ground chicken tactic were previously used to create distance, but now they are used in reverse to rush in, get close, and force the opponent to break down in your rhythm.

He crouched down in the open space, feet apart, lowering his center of gravity, wand in his right hand, and his left hand resting lightly on the ground.

He activated both the Swiftness and Sprint spells simultaneously, channeling magic into his legs before leaping forward and blasting through the air in front of him.

There was almost no transition from stillness to full speed. With one step, his figure stretched into a streak of light and shadow, rushing out close to the ground, with dirt and fallen leaves exploding on the soles of his boots.

The wind pressed against my eardrums, and the shadows of the trees on both sides stretched into blurry lines.

He rushed to a dead tree thirty meters away, stopped abruptly at the last moment of his charge, and swung his wand across the tree trunk with his right hand.

Magic surged from the tip of the staff, and the explosive power of Betelgeuse was fully released in that instant. The scorching magic exploded on the tree trunk, not penetrating, but shattering directly.

The dead tree broke in half, the upper half flying backward in the blast wave, while the lower half was charred black, with sparks still flying from the edges.

After a sudden stop, he immediately changed direction, swerved to the right, glided low over another tree, braced himself with his left hand, and used the momentum to flip over. During the flip, the tip of his stick was aimed at a rock ten meters away.

Another burst of scorching magic was unleashed, creating a crater the size of a washbasin on the rock surface. Debris flew everywhere, and the heat wave bent the surrounding bushes.

Released the instant it gets close; the closer the distance, the more concentrated the explosion effect and the greater the destructive power.

Avoid broad coverage; target the enemy precisely and resolve the problem with a single strike.

He moved swiftly through the forest clearing, shifting left and right with lightning speed, his boots leaving irregular tracks in the mud.

Each approach to the target takes a different route, sometimes fast, sometimes slow.

Sometimes I sprint at full speed to get right up to you and explode, sometimes I suddenly slow down and change direction to flank you and then attack, and sometimes I cast a suppression spell from a distance and then rush in along the direction of movement to finish you off.

The oppressive aura created by the outward release of magic was amplified several times when it got close. The moment it touched the target, scorching magic surged outward from the body, and the air itself trembled.

If you were standing in front of someone, the sheer pressure would be enough to make your opponent lose their balance and retreat, and that one step back would be fatal.

Swift, fierce, oppressive, and completely unrestrained.

The open space was a mess. Broken, dead trees lay on the ground, smoking, rock fragments were scattered everywhere, several clumps of bushes had been uprooted, and boot prints and scorch marks of varying depths were left on the ground.

He stood in the middle of the open space, took a breath, and withdrew his magic.

The violent aura of Betelgeuse receded from its surface, the oppressive aura dissipated, the air stopped distorting, and the surrounding temperature slowly returned to normal.

That's about it; this strategy is effective.

Appearance, magic, fighting style—three layers of disguise are enough.

Unless Voldemort were standing right in front of him, it would be hard to associate this young wizard with long silver hair, amber vertical pupils, and a fierce fighting style with Regulus Black.

Of course, we cannot be careless.

The magical world is too vast and its methods too diverse. What he knows is probably nothing in the entire history of the magical world.

Who knows what ancient spells, obscure traditions, or unheard-of detection methods might be hidden somewhere, capable of directly seeing through human transformations, touching the very essence of magic, and stripping away all pretense.

I wouldn't dare say it's foolproof.

However, this isn't really a big problem.

If it really comes to that, whoever discovers his identity will be dealt with.

If you can't beat them head-on, try the side; if a direct confrontation doesn't work, switch to a softer approach.

He has many methods, and many of them are not very reasonable, making him a perfect fit for a non-existent stranger.

The moment the Disintegration Curse touches something, the level of existence is directly disrupted. Forget about seeing through it or not; even if you do see through it, there's no time to say it.

Regulus de-transformed.

The silver-white hair began to fade from the ends, the white sinking down and the black rising up, the color spreading upwards from the ends.

In the amber iris, the golden pigment slowly melts away, the vertical pupil returns to a circle, and gray covers it again.

The strong facial contours have become more refined, the jawline has narrowed, the curve of the jawline has softened, and the sharp angles of the bridge of the nose have diminished.

His height gradually shrank back to its original level, his shoulder line narrowed, and his physique changed from the robust build of a young man back to the slender build of a teenager.

A moment later, the person in the water mirror returned to being a quiet, black-haired boy with gray eyes and delicate features.

He waved his hand, scattering the water mirror and the ball of light, and the surroundings darkened again. Moonlight shone through the gaps in the tree canopy, illuminating the mess on the clearing.

Baruch crouched at the edge of the clearing, eight eyes gleaming in the moonlight, watching him.

Regulus walked over and patted its carapace.

It pushed itself up from the ground and rubbed its spider head against his shoulder.

I'm not taking it with me on this long trip.

I've been trying to appease it for days because of this sentence. It went from being unhappy to very unhappy to puffing up to reluctantly accepting it, and in between, it agreed to a lot of conditions.

After we get back, we'll take it for a spin at the bottom of Black Lake, replace the dragon meat with a larger piece, and then let it stay in the Forbidden Forest for a while. We'll also make sure to take it with us on our next trip.

Baruch finally raised his chelicerae again, making two clicking sounds.

Then, with all eight legs, it took two steps backward and buried its entire body in the pile of decaying leaves, resting its head on its front legs, its amber eyes still staring at him.

Regulus patted its carapace again, took a half step back, and Apparated.

With a snap, it disappeared.

At the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the silhouette of the castle stood in the distance in the night, with lights twinkling in the windows.

He gathered his robes and flew toward the castle.

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