Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Old Luo'er had several broken ribs propping him up crookedly in his chest cavity. The cane squeezed into the gap between two broken ribs, and the bone fragments scraped against the cane, making a grinding sound that made your teeth ache.

The tip of the cane pierced deep into the chest cavity, where the heart is located.

The wand was inanimate, but the heart was alive. The two things resonated strangely the moment they came into contact, producing a muffled hum from the chest cavity.

Old Raoul's body shuddered, and then the wand continued to sink in, piercing through the heart, through the tissue behind the heart, until the entire wand disappeared into his chest, and finally even the handle sank in.

The hole in his chest closed up from both sides, the charred flesh squeezed together, sealing the hole back in place, leaving only a shallow indentation.

Regulus raised an eyebrow as he watched the action complete.

I've seen wands stab into the ground, I've seen wands stab into enemies, but this is the first time I've seen one stab into my own chest.

He raised his wand and unleashed a shattering spell. A white beam of light traveled forty or fifty meters and struck him squarely in the chest.

Old Luo was knocked backward by the blow, but he was still standing.

He glanced down; the sealed opening hadn't reopened. He then raised his head, his brown eyes piercing the darkness as he stared at Regulus.

From Old Luo's perspective, the scene before him was almost completely shattered: wasteland, ruins, and that silvery-white light all looked like they were being viewed through a layer of molten glass.

Every part of his body ached, but the pain had become so distant that it didn't feel like it was coming from him anymore.

His mind, on the contrary, remained very calm.

The plan was to hold the manor until the fourth day, and then launch an attack, but that plan fell through.

At midnight on the first day, the manor was wiped out by a spell that fell from the sky; the five layers of defense couldn't even last half a second.

More than a dozen vassals died, and most of the rest were wiped out by the Black family. He himself ate a few of them to recover to his full strength.

Then, after a few minutes of head-on confrontation, it was reduced to its current state by that method of exploding from all directions simultaneously.

The body is still there, but it's empty inside. There are no living people to replenish it, and even the corpse is too broken to eat anymore.

His survival instinct told him he couldn't go on living, while his violent instinct told him to take this person away.

He lived by violence for the first half of his life, and he survived by violence for the second half.

At this point, survival is no longer important; what matters is letting the other person know how the last member of the Luo family died.

He could disregard humanity, he could disregard himself, as long as he could exchange his life for one last stab in Regulus Black's body.

Without the slightest hesitation, in this situation, any words would be superfluous.

His magic collapsed.

Regulus's magical senses detected the change immediately.

The signals that had been maintaining the characteristics of human magical structure within Old Raoul's body were disintegrating, an absolutely proactive structural collapse that had nothing to do with exhaustion or dissipation.

The various components within the signal were being shattered from the inside by some force, and the magical framework that had been stable for decades collapsed in seconds.

The form of magic collapses from the human structure into a more primitive and chaotic state, first shrinking into a point, and then expanding outward from that point.

As external changes occurred simultaneously, Old Raoul's body began to break down.

The skin began to crack from the sealed area at the chest. The cracks were very fine, initially just a few, but then more and more cracks appeared, becoming wider and wider, spreading outwards.

The skin and flesh peeled off the charred shell, revealing the meat inside shrouded in black smoke. Chunks of the charred outer shell fell off and smashed into powder on the ground.

The substance gushing from the cracks was black and thick, steaming, like melted wax or living mud, gushing out from every opening.

His skeleton was dissolving, starting from his fingers; the finger bones turned into black liquid within his flesh, flowing down his palms.

Then the bones of the forearm, upper arm, shoulder, and two legs soften from the inside out, and the whole person begins to sag.

The muscles slip off the bones, and the fascia loses its restraint, like bundles of loosened ropes.

The person's physical form disintegrated from the inside, the human shape was disappearing, and the outer skin and flesh fell off piece by piece, turning into a pool of black water on the ground and flowing out in all directions.

Black matter surged outwards from the body; it retained its shape, but its edges were flowing, spreading out, and losing their definition.

Its size began to expand rapidly, five meters, ten meters, twenty meters, its surface was churning and undulating, with the fluidity of a liquid and the density and weight of a solid, floating with dirty light of different colors.

Gray-green, dark red, deep purple, burnt yellow, dark cyan, gray-brown, dark purple, lead gray—each color carries a different kind of dark magic.

Rot, twisting, pollution, corrosion, ulceration, depletion, decay, and decay—all accumulated in his body over decades—are now mixed together.

The gravel that gets near it first turns black, then becomes brittle, and then crumbles into powder.

Space begins to warp at its edges, and spatial perception can clearly see the concavity of the spatial structure, with the density gradient of space deforming violently around it.

The changes continued to expand, but at a certain point they suddenly stopped.

The black fluid surged and churned, but no longer expanded; it would swell briefly, then shrink back, swell again, and shrink back again.

The surface tumbling is accelerating, and the frequency of the various colored dirty lights flashing is increasing, but the overall volume is stuck at an upper limit, and it can't be broken through no matter what.

Regulus stopped the second spell he was about to cast. He could see, of course, that the thing was not yet finished and that old Raul's life force was making its last struggle.

His senses probed into the deepest part of that mass, where there was still a person, faint, intact, and still functioning.

Old Raoul's consciousness, memories, experience, judgment, and all the order that belongs to human beings.

The human spirit has order, logic, structure, and the instinct for self-preservation. This order contradicts the pure chaos that this black matter is pursuing.

The body had been sacrificed; bones, muscles, organs, and blood had all dissolved into this lump.

But the spirit is still holding on; the order of the spirit is dragging back the final collapse, preventing it from crossing that threshold, and is still trying to maintain the structure of a person.

Regulus witnessed the tug-of-war: on one side was the black substance that devoured everything, and on the other was a person who refused to completely disappear.

Old Raoul's consciousness was using its last vestiges of existence to stop it, perhaps out of instinct, or perhaps as a last-ditch effort by a remaining self-preservation mechanism.

Regulus couldn't say whether it was tenacity or stubbornness, but he felt that this thing suited old Raoul very well.

He looked at the mass of matter stuck at the critical point and decided not to act yet, keeping his wand at a defensive angle.

He wanted to see what kind of person Old Luo would eventually turn him into. At this point, there was nothing wrong with waiting. He should take precautions, prepare for what he needed to prepare, and still watch what he needed to watch.

I'm a little curious.

Dag Roll made his last conscious decision as a human being.

In Regulus's perception, the faint but complete mental signal began to shatter, and from the inside out, the various parts of the signal were consciously severed.

He seemed to see old Luo Er standing in a small room with blackened walls and paintings hanging on them. The objects in the paintings were indistinct, and he could only make out some blurry human figures.

Old Luo took a painting off the wall, didn't even look at it, and smashed it on the ground. The frame shattered, and shards of glass were scattered all over the floor.

He went to get the second and third paintings, each time faster than the last, his face remaining expressionless the entire time.

After smashing the painting, he started smashing the wall. The first blow was with his fist, which dented the wall. The second blow was with his elbow, and the third blow was with his knee, which cracked the wall.

He picked up a piece of wood that had fallen from the picture frame and smashed it against the wall piece by piece until the entire wall collapsed.

He went to the next room, which was smaller than this one, and had a table with a stack of letters on it.

He pushed all the letters to the ground, then crushed them under his foot. The letters crumbled beneath his feet, turning into wisps of dust that drifted away.

Then he went to the last room.

The room had no windows, only a bed, and a person was sleeping on the bed who looked exactly like himself.

Old Rohr went over and watched for a while, then reached out and grabbed the man by the neck.

The man didn't struggle; his eyes were closed, and a faint smile played on his lips. When Old Luo let go, the bed was empty.

The last room also collapsed.

Memory, experience, judgment, personality—all shattered.

Everything about the Rohr family—the layout of the manor, the names of the vassals, the family history, the things hidden in the cellar, everything about himself—his name, his age, the path he had walked over the decades, the people he had killed, the wounds he had suffered, everything about magic, the skills and intuition he had accumulated over decades of magical careers—was all crushed by his own hands.

He tore himself apart.

In the center of his own spiritual world, a person smashes every door, breaks every window, knocks down every wall, digs up the foundation, and turns over the soil beneath it until nothing is left, leaving only one thing in the end.

A self-imposed command, etched into the deepest layer after all magic and spirit have collapsed.

Kill Regulus Black, and that's all.

At the very instant the mental signal shattered, the threshold was exceeded, and the mass of black matter exploded, expanded, boiled, and completed its transformation.

The surface turbulence changed from ripples to eruptions, with black foam bulging and bursting on the surface, each burst spewing out a cloud of dirty light of various colors and black mist.

Its size increased dramatically from 20 meters to 40 meters, then 60 meters, and its height rose from close to the ground to over 10 meters.

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A massive, black, misty entity took shape at the core of the ruins, resembling a smoking black mountain that was expanding in all directions.

The wand that had been completely embedded in old Raoul's body was now wrapped inside this mass of black matter, appearing and disappearing intermittently as it tumbled in the surging black mist.

It was in operation, spewing spells out from various points on this black mass.

Green light shot out from above the object, scarlet light emerged from the bottom, dark yellow light pierced the night sky at an angle, blue-black light exploded on the surface of the fog, cyan-purple light shot out from the center of the object to the rear, gray-brown light swept out along the ground, dark purple light flew out in an irregular arc, and there were some colors that I couldn't even name, shooting out from any possible angle without any pattern.

The surface of the black substance exudes a tangible mist, heating the air to a scorching temperature. A foul stench from the burning permeates the air, leaving craters in the ground wherever it passes.

Space around it was distorted to the point of discontinuity, the structure was broken, and the continuity was torn apart in several places.

The man is gone, Dag Roll is gone.

What remained was a mass formed from the sacrifice, a person's body, magic, spirit, and soul all contained within it.

It has no thought, no memory, no personality, no fear, no pain, and no characteristics that belong to human beings.

It has only one underlying command: kill Regulus Black.

An uproar erupted on the hill, with the murmurs among the crowd turning into screams.

"What the hell is that—"

"The Obscurus?" someone's voice was shrill and piercing. "Is that the Obscurus?"