Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 487 Encirclement and Reinforcements

Baruch perched on Regulus's shoulder, his eight eyes following the flight paths of the different spells.

Its left eye looked at the red hair, its right eye looked at the purple hair, and its two main eyes were fixed on the dark green light that was gathering in front of it, its chelicerae clicking and clacking.

Luc had already retreated behind the crowd and stood with Delacroix. He hadn't made a move the whole time. Seeing that the boy hadn't moved an inch and all the spells had been intercepted, his eye twitched violently.

His voice was almost a shout: "Surround them!"

The core team began to disperse, with the witch Colette Breya, who was chewing grass stems, being the first to make a move. She was short in stature but quick in her movements, hugging the gravel slope as she circled around to Regulus's right.

He chanted incantations as he ran, and a cloud of dark green mist shot out from the tip of his staff. After landing, the mist began to spread rapidly, creeping forward along the ground.

Where the mist passes, fine bubbles immediately rise from the surface of the gravel, and the dry grass stems turn black, curl, and crumble the moment they come into contact with the mist.

The old man Thierry Garnier walked around from the side, his left hand hanging at his side with his fingers slightly spread, palm down, his fingers trembling slightly, while his right hand, which was holding the wand, lifted up.

The gravel beneath Regulus's feet suddenly softened, and dirt squeezed up from the gaps between the stones.

In less than a second, the gravel and soil mixed into a semi-liquid swamp, thick, black, bubbling on the surface, and spreading towards his feet.

Several irregular rock ridges rose from the ground, cutting through the space for movement.

The young sorcerer Roman Fabre charged forward head-on, raising his wand to shoulder height. The purple light at the tip of the wand was even brighter than before, and purple sparks fell from the tip, sizzling as they landed on the gravel.

A dark purple spell shot out from the tip of the staff, its trajectory slightly curved to the left, bypassing the possible location of the diamond-shaped shield.

The others also adjusted their positions; some squatted in place, holding up their sticks for cover, while others crouched down and moved to the sides.

In the blink of an eye, the ten men spread out into a loose arc, surrounding Regulus in the middle.

Delacroix remained motionless behind him, and Luc stood beside him without moving either.

Regulus sidestepped the dark purple beam of light, the spell grazing the hem of his robe before crashing into the gravel slope behind him.

As the explosion rang out, the spell burst open, splitting into three thinner beams of purple light that bounced back towards Regulus from three different directions.

Regulus took in this small combo.

It's an interesting combination: the chain spell forces him to move, the swamp restricts his footing, and the poisonous fog compresses his movement space. If it were someone else, this combination would have been effective in the first round.

But he is no ordinary person.

Regulus lightly touched the ground with his foot and shifted his body to the right, his boots bouncing off the rubble before the swamp fully solidified.

While still in mid-air, he swung his wand downwards, unleashing a shattering spell that struck the center of the swamp. The mud exploded, and the impact sent rubble flying in all directions.

As he landed, his left foot landed on the rubble that was not yet covered by the mist, and at the same time, his right wand swept horizontally to the left, sending a blast spell crashing into the mist.

With a muffled boom, orange-red flames exploded, and the shockwave pushed outwards, tearing a large hole in the poisonous fog, which then rolled back outwards from the center.

Then the wand was pointed at the old man, and a diamond-shaped shield appeared in front of Garnier, directly blocking the next spell he was about to cast.

Without turning his head, three small diamond-shaped shields simultaneously materialized behind him, blocking the dark purple chain spells that shot towards him from different directions.

The young wizard Roman ran forward quickly, thrusting the tip of his staff forward with a sudden jerk. The air was compressed into a solid bullet, devoid of light and color, only producing a shrill sound as it tore through the air.

Regulus's diamond-shaped shield materialized in the direction of the sound source. A compressed air bullet struck the shield surface, producing a dull thud. The shield surface was dented by the impact before bouncing back to its original shape.

The other core members around also began to go all out. Someone released a deep red corrosive spell from a distance. When the spell hit an object, it directly corroded the stone or other objects into a sticky sludge.

Someone was trying to use Polymorph to alter the ground behind Regulus, hoping to turn the rubble into sharp spikes.

Someone focused on using Shattering Charms and Barrier Charms to suppress Regulus's movement, forcing him into the mist that the witch Colette had re-formed.

They coordinated quite well, knowing each other's spell range and rhythm, and no one blocked the other's trajectory.

Regulus's handling of these situations made Luc's brow furrow even more.

Small diamond-shaped shields continued to appear everywhere, each one precisely positioned in the path of the spells. Beam spells were blocked, and polymorph spells were blasted apart by explosive spells.

He moved, but only slightly, mostly just adjusting his feet by one or two steps, turning his body to the side, tilting his head, and dodging attacks that didn't require a direct block.

Luke watched from the back row, his mind racing with analysis.

His reaction speed far exceeds that of ordinary people, and his defense is predictive rather than reactive, meaning he can sense the direction and landing point of the spell.

The diamond-shaped shield is a variant of the Ironclad Spell, requiring extremely high precision in manipulating magic, to the point where defensive magic can be broken down into single-sided releases.

The movement is simple and efficient, without any unnecessary actions.

This can no longer be described as merely well-trained; it's combat talent.

Luc had seen people like this before, one or two at most, and they were the most troublesome opponents he had ever encountered in the French black market. But this child was only thirteen years old. Where did he get the experience?

He glanced at Delacroix, who was also looking at him, his face expressionless, his wand gripped tightly in his hand, neither tapping nor rubbing it, just frozen there.

Luc's throat was a little dry. He could tell, and Delacroix probably could too, that the boy wasn't taking it seriously at all.

Baruch swayed gently on Regulus's shoulder in rhythm, and every time Regulus shifted his weight, he made subtle adjustments with the joints of his eight legs to maintain his stability.

The spider's head moved from left to right, then from right to left, its eyes following each flying incantation.

It saw a deep red corrosive spell fly from its right, which Regulus's diamond-shaped shield blocked, and a fragment of the shattered shield floated in front of it.

It stretched out one of its front legs and gently touched the fading silvery-white fragments of light with the tip of its claw. After touching them, it retracted its claw with a click, looking quite pleased with itself.

Then, as if sensing something, it suddenly stuck its rear end up, and a clump of silvery-white spider silk shot out from the spinneret, faster than a spell, leaving a blurry white line in the night.

The spider silk precisely stuck to the tip of a magic wand, then wrapped around the wand.

Baruch pulled his buttocks back, the spider silk tightened, and all eight legs exerted force at the same time, pulling him back.

The wand slipped from the man's hand, trailing a spiderweb tail as it arced through the night wind before landing with a thud three steps away from Regulus's feet.

The core member looked down at his empty hand, his mouth agape, completely bewildered by what had happened.

Regulus glanced down at the wand trailing spider silk, then at Baruch on his shoulder.

Baruch's eight eyes were all fixed on him, its chelicerae opened and closed rapidly, clicking and clacking, its rear end sticking up high.

Regulus's lips curled up slightly: "Good spider."

Baruch's claws opened to their maximum extent, clicking and clattering in unison, and then he immediately began to look around, searching for the next target to retrieve the wand.

Delacroix saw all of this clearly, and his expression changed from blank to another kind of blankness.

This is wrong, this is completely wrong.

He had seen powerful wizards, true geniuses, and monsters who could single-handedly overpower a group of people on the battlefield.

But he had never seen a thirteen-year-old.

The way the boy swung his wand, the appearance and disappearance of the diamond-shaped shield, the incredibly precise interceptions, and the spider on his shoulder that had just disarmed someone.

He was deceived; the information the British woman gave him didn't include these details.

She provided the location of the weakest point in the defenses; she knew there were no armed patrols on the estate; she knew that Felix was the only one in charge of security.

But she didn't mention the heir's fighting prowess, which she couldn't possibly be unaware of.

She kept everything he couldn't find in her hands: the combat ability of a thirteen-year-old child, a monster who could stand still while fighting the core group.

She needs a group of people to die.

But we can't retreat now; retreating means defeat, and defeat means even faster death.

He still has a chance to fight. None of his core members have fallen yet, and the outer perimeter is still on the south slope. He has more people fighting against fewer people, so the advantage is on his side.

Colette released the poisonous mist again, pressing down on them head-on and forcing them back.

As Garnier exerted force with both hands simultaneously, the ground beneath Regulus's feet began to liquefy over a large area.

The entire scree slope within a radius of about twenty meters was sinking, and mud was churning out from between the scree, at a speed more than twice as fast as before.

Regulus swung his wand wildly, unleashing a fan-shaped blasting spell that sent orange-red flames crashing into it. With a deafening boom, the mist was torn apart from the middle.

The impact, still carrying the lingering flames, pushed outwards, blasting the entire cloud of poisonous fog back into wisps of smoke in the night wind.

Roman's chain spell shot from the front, its dark purple light dazzling in the night.

Three shots were fired in quick succession, each blocked by Regulus's diamond-shaped shield. Then each shot split into three and bounced off in different directions, with nine purple beams flying toward him from all angles.

Regulus increased the speed of his wand swings, and rhombus-shaped shields flashed in the air, deflecting the chain spell's splitting attacks—

Knock it off.

At the same time, he pressed down with his right hand, casting a Polymorph spell on the liquefied ground beneath his feet. The surface of the swamp solidified back into hard stone, revealing a different texture than before.

The swamp effect is a transformation spell. Regulus doesn't need to resist the transformation head-on; he only needs to change the material structure of the target itself, making the basis for the transformation nonexistent.

Two people were approaching Regulus's back from different directions. Baruch's spider head quickly turned between the two targets, then it aimed at the one on the left.

Its buttocks stick up, spider silk shoots out, sticks to the tip of the staff, and it pulls hard.

The man on the left lost his wand and flew out of his hand, while the man on the right raised his wand at the same instant, and a shattering spell shot from less than ten meters away toward Regulus's back.

Regulus even diverted his attention to sense the strength of the shattering curse behind him.

That's all. If he bumped into someone, he'd at most leave a scorch mark on his robe, not even scratch his skin. He wouldn't even bother to block it, but today he didn't want any spells to touch him.

Without turning his head, he flicked his wrist, pushing the magic directly outward from his palm. The spell collided with it, making a muffled sound, and shattered into pieces, disappearing.

Regulus turned around, grinned at the two people still hiding in the shadows of the gray rocks, and said, "That was a good move."

Then the wand flicked upwards, and a cutting spell slashed straight through, faster than any of the previous spells.

Luke instinctively activated his Iron Armor Spell, and a silver blade of light slashed through the barrier in an instant, so fast that Luke didn't even have time to react.

The blade grazed his shoulder, tearing his robe and causing blood to seep out.

He quickly stepped back, raised his hand to touch his shoulder, and found blood on his fingertips.

Regulus's attacks began to change rhythm. He had just been blocking and occasionally casting a basic spell, but now he was starting to counterattack.

The Piercing Spell shot out a thin white beam from the tip of the staff, piercing through the thigh of a sorcerer and pinning him to the ground. His scream drowned out all the explosions around him.

A thunderous explosion erupted, and an orange-red orb of light slammed into the rubble, bursting into flames. The shockwave knocked over two nearby witches simultaneously.

Pebbles flew everywhere, hitting them and leaving their robes covered in scorch marks. One of them had her eardrum bleed from the impact and lay on the ground for a long time, unable to get up.

The Oppression Curse, an invisible magical force, crashed down and struck a tall core member. The Ironclad Curse caved in from the top down, as if it had been flattened by an unseen foot.

The man's knees buckled, and he was forced to kneel down by the pressure. His knees smashed through two stones, and blood seeped from his trouser legs.

More and more core members are falling, getting injured, being overturned, or being pinned to the ground; the number of people still standing is decreasing.

Delacroix’s breathing became heavy behind the rock.

His core team was wiped out, but the young man never showed any signs of fatigue, never revealed any weakness, and never gave them a chance to win.

A hoarse voice came from the shadows: "Notify the rearguard on the north side to come over, and the outer perimeter of the south slope to retreat. All of you should gather here."

Luc immediately pulled out his wand and shot a signal into the sky.

Regulus's lips twitched upwards.