Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 455 Everyone's all sticky and gooey

Regulus took a step forward, and when he landed, he was already standing in front of the ruins.

He glanced at the Pwitt brothers first.

A few meters behind Moody, Fabian sat against a collapsed stone wall, while Gideon squatted beside him.

The two men were covered in dust and grime from head to toe, looking as if they had been pulled out of a fireplace chimney.

There was no visible damage on the surface. I scanned the magic from a distance earlier and found it to be disordered and unstable, but not injured.

In fact, the two brothers were in better condition before he saved them.

They had fought with Dolokhov's men and suffered considerable losses, being trapped for a while, but they didn't sustain any injuries.

As a result of his actions, the two of them were completely disoriented, and their magic cores shook.

Being surrounded by the enemy was fine, but being bombed by their own people made them feel weak.

He couldn't help but let his lips twitch slightly.

When it comes to saving lives, the process isn't important, as long as the result is right.

Perhaps this is the Death Eaters' strategy: not to kill them outright, but to hold them back, trap them, and wait for the Order of the Phoenix to come to their rescue, then launch an even bigger attack.

It's also possible that neither side has reached the point of no return and is holding back.

Prwitt is, after all, one of the Twenty-Eight Sacred Races, and both Fabian and Gideon are prominent figures in the pureblood community.

The pureblood circle is only so big. People who are fighting each other on the battlefield today may be nodding to each other while holding wine glasses in a banquet hall of a manor next month.

There's an unspoken understanding among nobles: leave room for maneuver in all matters, so that you can meet again in the future.

Moreover, the Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters haven't completely broken ties yet; they're maintaining a thin veneer of civility, and the Death Eaters won't just go and kill someone right away.

Encircle but don't kill, just surround but don't annihilate, keep them as bargaining chips or bait, anyway, the living are more useful than the dead.

The Death Eaters controlled the intensity of the conflict, taking people but not killing them, leaving themselves room to maneuver.

Needless to say, Dumbledore needs more time to maintain pressure without escalating the situation.

If things continue as they are, the Pwitt brothers will eventually die at the hands of Dolokhov.

But not today. Today, both sides are exercising restraint. The Death Eaters didn't kill, and Dumbledore didn't allow anyone to be killed.

The entire Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters are currently in a state of limbo, with neither side wanting to be the first to push things to the extreme.

Regulus withdrew his gaze and turned his attention to the person opposite him.

Antonin Dolokhov, one of Voldemort's earliest associates.

He was around fifty years old, with a pale, long face, high cheekbones, a pointed chin, and dark, almost black pupils. His dark hair was pulled back and was slightly disheveled by the blast wave.

That face itself was not a pleasant one; it was distorted, cold, and its eyes, like snakes, stared intently at people.

Tall and broad-shouldered, he stood before the ruins, and even with his tattered robes and blood-stained clothes, the sense of oppression was not diminished much.

A taciturn type, a seasoned Death Eater, a torture enthusiast, a top duelist, a master of silent magic, and a sadist, but he seems quite honest now.

As Regulus sized him up, Dolokhov was also sizing up Regulus.

Long, silver-white hair, amber vertical pupils, a rugged jawline, and the magic emanating from his body was so intense it seemed to distort the air itself.

A completely unfamiliar face, in his early twenties.

He couldn't name the explosive magic used; it had been standing over a hundred meters away just moments before, and now it was right in front of him.

In every respect, this person is not someone to be trifled with.

He glanced quickly in Moody's direction.

Moody remained standing at the edge of the battlefield, his wand hanging at his side, his grey-blue eyes fixed on this side, neither moving forward nor backward.

Then he turned his gaze back to the young wizard with white hair and vertical pupils.

The situation was dire. Of the ten of them, less than half were still standing. Three were buried under rubble, two were coughing up blood, and one was standing but completely dazed.

There are four on the other side: Moody is an old rival, the Pwitt brothers are in decent condition, and then there's this white-haired guy who just blew up the entire castle with that inexplicable spell.

He had never seen anyone use that level of magic before. If the other party attacked directly from the start, they would all be wiped out today.

But the other party didn't move; they just stood there, looking at him through the pile of rubble with a calm expression, neither provoking nor casting a spell.

Dolokhov understood; the other party was also restraining himself, just like him.

He sneered inwardly, thinking, "A bunch of people who only know how to wait."

But his face remained expressionless; his snake-like eyes were fixed on the white-haired wizard opposite him, his mind racing.

We cannot fight to the death.

If it's just Moody in good condition, we can try to take him down, but with this white-haired guy on top of him, the two of them together will definitely be finished.

He wasn't at his peak either; the injuries from the explosion were still churning in his chest, and every breath he took pulled at the muscles on his ribs, causing pain.

You can't just run away.

Ten people were mostly wiped out by a single spell, and the commander leading the team was the first to Apparate and run away.

How will I explain this to my master when I get back?

"The enemy has Dumbledore, and we are outnumbered. My subordinates judge that we cannot win and have ordered a retreat."

This was an organized retreat, which can be explained, but the other side didn't have Dumbledore.

"The explosion spell stunned us, and I abandoned my men and ran away."

This is a defeat. The master will make him kneel on the ground and repeat the sentence, and then give him a piercing pain.

Therefore, we must fight a battle before retreating, or at least fight until we are defeated and have to retreat, so that we can explain ourselves when we return.

The optimal solution is to stabilize the situation, have the subordinates dig out the people, administer medicine to restore them, and then retreat collectively, keeping casualties within a manageable range.

The other side is probably happy to see this, as neither the Order of the Phoenix nor the Death Eaters want to wage a full-scale war at this stage.

Dolokhov turned his head and gestured to the Death Eater behind him who was still standing but staring blankly. He drew his finger towards the pile of rubble and then tapped it on the ground.

The man paused for a moment, then realized what was happening, staggered around, and walked deeper into the ruins to start digging.

Dolokhov took two steps forward, blocking his subordinates, raised his wand, the tip of which glowed with a purple light, his movements slow and deliberate.

Regulus's lips curled slightly when he saw the purple light.

Dolokhov's symbol, the Purple Flame Spell, is cast silently and deals extremely heavy damage. In the future, a little girl was hit by this spell and it took her half a year to recover.

Sure enough, everyone clung to each other, and no one went all out.

Dolokhov's reaction was exactly what he expected, and he cooperated quite well.

Both sides are maintaining a tacit understanding: the Death Eaters cannot simply run away, and the Order of the Phoenix does not want to escalate the situation.

Let's have a fight, a fight where both sides clash, both suffer losses, and the Death Eaters retreat in an organized manner.

Regulus had no objection to the arrangement. Dumbledore had requested no upgrades, and Moody was squatting nearby to keep watch, so he just treated it as a way to get some exercise.

But this person is a rather important character; he's Voldemort's torture expert.

He was absolutely loyal to Voldemort, refused to betray him, refused to confess his sins, and would rather go to Azkaban than expose his comrades.

His heart was pure darkness, devoid of family warmth, friends, and vulnerabilities. He lived only for dark magic, for Voldemort, and for killing.

Speaking of which, once the Blake family officially takes center stage, he might still have to deal with this person.

They were on the same side, at the same table, Voldemort's right-hand man and the heir of a pure-blood family.

Dolokhov probably never dreamed that the white-haired wizard who blew up his stronghold would sit across from him a few years later wearing the black robes of the Black family.

Killing him wouldn't be necessary, but leaving a lasting impression would be acceptable.

The golden light flickered in his amber vertical pupils, and the curve of his lips became dangerous.

Dolokhov made the first move, unleashing a fist-sized purple fireball from the tip of his staff. The fireball shot straight towards him with a trail of flame, its trajectory flat and its speed slow.

Regulus dodged to the side, the purple fireball grazing his shoulder before crashing into the withered grass behind him, blasting open a pool of purple fire.

The flames spread along the ground and continued to burn, casting a purple glow that flickered across the ruins.

Regulus retaliated, flicking his wand lightly, unleashing a thunderous explosion as an orange-red orb blasted back directly.

Dolokhov ducked to avoid the attack, and at the same time, a deep red light shot straight at him.

Regulus unleashed the Shattering Spell, striking the trajectory of the incantation. The two magical forces collided in mid-air, blasting out a ring of spreading dust.

The exchange of blows continued for several rounds at a fast pace.

Dolokhov's spells involved no unnecessary movements; they were all cast silently.

The purple flame spell was mixed with several indistinct black magic spells, but he never moved forward, maintaining his distance and slowly retreating towards the pile of rubble while fighting.

Occasionally, he would turn his head and glance behind him. His men were still digging people out, and the rubble was being moved away piece by piece by magic, revealing the arms and legs that were being crushed underneath.

Regulus took a step forward, and Dolokhov took a step back.

Regulus moved to the left, and Dolokhov immediately adjusted his position, always facing the white-haired wizard.

Another round of intense exchanges.

Dolokhov fired two purple flames in quick succession, one to restrain the enemy from the front and the other to launch a sneak attack from the side.

Regulus deflected the frontal attack with his Ironclad Charm and the side attack with his Explosive Impact, taking a half-step forward.

Dolokhov has resigned again.

Regulus did not step forward again, but stood still, his wand hanging down, his posture relaxed.

Give him a chance to catch his breath.

Dolokhov also stopped, and they looked at each other across the ganley.

Regulus remained calm, Dolokhov was expressionless, and then the next round of gunfights began.

Behind Moody, the Pewter brothers sat at the foot of the stone wall, Fabian was looking down at the scrapes on his arm, and Gideon's self-light bounced back and forth between the white-haired wizard and Dolochoff.

Moody stood at the edge of the battlefield the entire time, his wand hanging at his side, his grey-blue eyes following the two without moving.

A Death Eater who had crawled out of the rubble looked up toward the battlefield and met Moody's gaze.

His grey-blue eyes were fixed on his face, cold and indifferent.

The Death Eater quickly looked away, lowered his head, and continued to feign death while lying in the rubble.

Moody ignored him.

Albus said he wouldn't upgrade, Geralt was controlling the pace, and Dolokhov was clearly stalling for time to wait for his men to recover. Both sides had their own agendas, but the outcome was already decided; it was just a matter of when the show would end.

All he had to do was stand there and prevent any of Dolokhov's men from having any other ideas.

In the next round of attacks, Regulus increased his intensity.

The thunderous explosion blasted towards Dolokhov's feet, the shockwave sending him stumbling back several steps, his heels slipping on the rubble.

The Shattering Curse followed closely, striking the ground two meters in front of him, sending dirt flying up and covering his face in dust.

Dolokhov wiped his face with his sleeve, the murderous intent in his dark eyes intensifying.

But he held back, glancing at it again out of the corner of his eye.

Two people have been dug out from under the rubble. They are being given medicine by the broken wall and are already able to sit up. The two who were lying on the ground coughing up blood have also been dragged together and medicine bottles are being stuffed into their mouths.

almost.

The last Death Eater who had been buried was pulled out, given a drug, and managed to stand up.

All three who were dug out, plus the two who coughed up blood and the one who was confused, have now basically regained their ability to move.

Dolohoff flicked his wand, unleashing three consecutive bursts of purple flame that forced Regulus back a step.

Then, he poked the tip of his staff at his feet, and a cloud of black smoke exploded, the dense smoke spreading rapidly and obscuring the entire area in front of the ruins.

A series of muffled, phantom-like sounds came from within the black smoke: thud, thud, thud.

The sounds varied in distance and frequency, some crisp and clear, others drawn out and muffled.

At the edge of the black smoke, Dolokhov stood at the back, making sure all his men had left, and then glanced at Regulus through the smoke.

The pale, distorted face was expressionless, and the dark eyes gleamed coldly in the afterglow of the purple flames.

I didn't say anything harsh, I just looked at him and remembered his face.

White hair, vertical pupils, scorching magic, and a combination magic capable of unleashing devastating explosions.

He'll recognize you the next time you meet.

Regulus watched as that gaze pierced through the smoke, cold, fierce, sinister, and like a snake.

impolite.

He grinned.

Just as Dolokhov raised his arm and his wand made the Apparition initiation gesture, his body twisted slightly.

The next instant, it appeared in front of Dolokhov.

Apply to the face in one step.