Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Regulus wandered around the wasteland for nearly half an hour, accompanied by the black mist.

The black mist chased him across the entire wilderness, running from the ruins all the way to the foot of the hills, and then turned back.

The ground along the way had been turned over, all the grass was gone, revealing the black soil and rocks underneath.

Several explosive spells he unleashed struck the side of the low hill, tearing off half of the slope, sending clods of earth and rocks rolling dozens of meters away.

The black mist swept past, swallowing up the stones that had rolled halfway and never reappearing.

Most of the spectators on the hill had already run away, and the onlookers had long since dispersed. One person had transformed into a cloud of black mist that devoured everything, chasing another person across the wasteland. This scene had gone beyond the realm of mere entertainment.

The remaining three or four hundred men were all brave; they were scattered across several high grounds, each setting up their own defensive measures.

Hundreds of eyes followed the two moving white figures on the wasteland, one silvery white and the other a chaotic black mess.

Half an hour of high-speed maneuvering and continuous output caused Regulus's condition to drop steadily.

He still has the stamina to hold up. The foundation of the "free-range chicken" tactic is legwork, and his physical condition is sufficient to support high-speed movement for a long time.

However, the consumption of magic power is a bit too much. The Disintegration Spell had already drained most of the magic power. After recovering to 60%, I fought for several minutes of stationary bombardment and spatial network ammunition tilting. In addition, I fought while running for half an hour. The reserves of magic core are continuously decreasing. The recovery speed of Star Orbit Meditation cannot keep up with the rate of consumption.

The black mist actually grew larger after it moved for a long time.

As it rolls across the ground, it devours everything, and all matter along its path mixes into the fog, where it is then churned into new mass by the chaotic internal structure.

The speed and frequency of spellcasting were both increasing. Old Raul was sacrificing not only his body and spirit, but also all the magical reserves he had accumulated over decades.

All that magic is within this chaos, constantly releasing more energy as it reacts to and devours each other.

This is a long time.

At one point, the black mist spread faster than he could create distance, and its left and right wings began to close, tightening the encirclement arc.

Regulus didn't need to turn around; his spatial awareness told him that the edge of the Blackwing was approaching from twelve meters to the left and fifteen meters to the right, and the passage ahead was narrowing.

He sprinted forward, channeling all his power into the Sprint spell. The force of his feet pounding the ground shattered the soil and rocks, and his figure shot out as a streak of silver-white light.

But the black fog was also accelerating. It was too big. Its front, which was tens of meters wide, was expanding to both sides at the same time, and the rate at which its coverage area was growing was faster than the speed at which it was running in a straight line.

The black mist closed in from all sides at the same time, and he was surrounded.

Visibility instantly darkened as black mist surged in from all directions, solid and heavy, pressing down on people as if they were buried in a rotting sponge.

Regulus expanded his armor, channeling the protective will of Betelgeuse into it. A silver-white shield emerged from his body, expanding into a sphere, thicker than before, with a faint blue pattern on its surface.

The black mist lunged forward to bite, making a series of fine, sizzling corrosion sounds. Countless burn marks appeared on the surface of the barrier, which were then repaired layer by layer by magic.

The air was toxic. As the black fog closed in, the putrid smell turned into a real corrosive effect, and the air in the entire enclosed space changed color.

Regulus instantly adjusted the structure of the Ironclad Charm, activating the sieve mode.

When the incoming air passes through the barrier, it is filtered, and the burnt particles and toxic residues are all blocked outside, leaving only the part that can be inhaled.

The spells began to rain down from all directions.

A green beam of light shot down from above. Regulus leaned to the left, and the green beam passed by his right shoulder, striking the ground beneath his feet.

A crimson Crusher spell flew from his left rear. He turned around and raised his hand, sending a small diamond-shaped shield crashing into it. The two spells met in mid-air and exploded into a shower of red shards.

The dark yellow Exhaustion Curse drilled upwards from below. He stepped on it and jumped half a meter high, the Exhaustion Curse grazing past his feet.

A gray-green rotting curse lunged at him from the front, accompanied by a large cloud of gray mist. He flicked his wand forward, and an explosion curse shattered the gray mist head-on. An orange-red explosion flashed briefly in the blackness of his vision.

A dark purple beam of light flew from the right, and grayish-white bone fragments and flesh slammed down from above. Something of indescribable color emerged from behind, shattering the air it passed through and leaving a blackened crack.

Within the cramped space of black mist, incantations spewed out from all directions and angles, without any pattern or interval, pure chaos and violence.

Regulus blocked the attacks while moving in small areas, waving his wand to intercept spells coming from all directions.

Visibility was extremely poor within the black fog; the light emanating from his body couldn't reach very far, and the ground beneath his feet was being corroded, feeling both soft and hard underfoot.

Block the one in front, dodge the one above your head, smash the one under your feet, sidestep the Cruciatus Curse to the left and behind, and disperse the Rotting Mist Blast Curse in front.

He swung his wand faster and faster, the Ironclad Charm was being gnawed away, and as soon as one hole was filled in the barrier, another one appeared.

The black mist's incantation had no intervals, and now its density was increasing; as soon as one was blocked, the next one was already right in front of you.

The Ironclad Curse's replenishment began to fall behind its consumption, and tiny cracks appeared on the surface of the barrier. The light of Betelgeuse flowed through the cracks, pressing them down one by one.

But it's always just a little bit short; the gap keeps accumulating.

The black mist is squeezing towards the center, and the space he can move in is getting smaller. When he was first enveloped, the internal diameter was about twenty meters, but now it has shrunk to ten meters and is still shrinking.

Regulus held on inside for nearly two minutes. The barrier's color changed from bright white to grayish-white, and then from grayish-white to a very thin silver-gray, as its consumption continued to accelerate.

His mind was constantly calculating; he knew how much of his reserves remained, at what rate they were being depleted, and how long his will to protect could last.

He was confident that Xingkongyuan could leave at any time, but he didn't want to leave, and he couldn't afford to waste time like this; he had to get out.

He used his spatial perception to perform a full-scale scan inside the black fog and found the thinnest spot.

The black fog in that direction was only half the thickness of that elsewhere, and outside was a clean, open space.

He maximized his frontal defense, increased the magic output of the Ironclad Spell to its maximum, and concentrated all defensive resources within a two-meter radius around his body, causing the spherical barrier to light up instantly.

The spells came from all directions, but were all blocked by the barrier.

The explosive will of Betelgeuse was pressed into the magical structure of the spell, and the magic began to accumulate. A scorching red light seeped out from the tip of the staff, adding an orange-red halo to the blue and white light of the Ironclad Spell.

The temperature at the tip of the staff was rising, the magic was being compressed, condensed, and was waiting to be released.

One second, two seconds later, the Ironclad Curse was being attacked by both the black mist and the incantation, and the rate at which it was being eaten away was accelerating.

In three seconds, the outer layer of the Ironclad Curse shattered. The inner layer, supported by the will of protection, remained, but it was so thin that it was translucent. The color of the black mist shone in from the outside, and one could see the surface of the Ironclad Curse peeling away piece by piece.

In the fourth second, having gathered enough strength, he released the Ironclad Spell.

He swung his wand violently, unleashing a spell.

A thick, crimson beam of light burst forth from the tip of the staff, filled with intense heat and explosive force, and slammed into the black mist.

The explosion was so loud that it shook the entire wasteland.

The high temperature burned a hole in the black mist, with an opening four or five meters in diameter, which rolled out from the inside, its edges turning white and shiny.

The black mist tried to close in, but Regulus pressed his will against it, preventing it from sealing off.

The magical impact of the Explosion Spell is a one-time event, but the will infused by Betelgeuse formed a scorching barrier at the edge of the cave entrance.

Two forces are clashing: one wants to close in, the other wants to push apart.

Regulus charged straight out, activating both the Swiftness Charm and the Sprint Charm simultaneously. His body stretched into a line within the blasted hole, a dazzling trail of silver light tracing through the black mist.

He rushed through the last meter of the cave entrance, most of his body already outside—his head, shoulders, chest, and right hand were all in the moonlight, the air changing from scorching and acrid to frigid.

The moment his entire body left the black mist, he felt a tearing sensation in his left rib area.

The black mist relinquished its last position against the will to resist, and the mass of matter made a choice between the blasted hole and the contracting flanks.

It moved all the opposing forces blocking the cave entrance to the position Regulus would inevitably pass through to break out.

The black mist's sole command was to kill Regulus Black. When Regulus's will held the exit open, the black mist voluntarily abandoned its upward thrust in that direction, concentrating its power on the flanks, forming an extremely thin black blade at the edge of the thinnest layer of the black mist.

The blade was positioned diagonally behind him, at a very precise angle.

Regulus's spatial senses only caught up with its location at the last moment. His body had already rushed out of the hole, but the hole was too narrow to turn around in time.

The black blade sliced ​​across his left rib, tearing through the Constant Iron Armor Curse, cutting between his two ribs, creating a horizontal gash, before being pulled out by the momentum of his forward thrust.

The heat and corrosion simultaneously burst open from the left rib area.

The burning sensation turned outwards, like someone pressing a red-hot iron bar against my ribs; the corrosive sensation drilled inwards, like a cold, thin worm gnawing deeper into the wound.

Two things went in through the same opening; one burned upwards, and the other went downwards.

For a moment, Regulus's mind was filled with only these two feelings, and nothing else could squeeze in.

The next moment, the Star Orbit Meditation started operating on its own, and six stars lit up simultaneously in the depths of the mind. A grand image pressed down, and the pain was pushed away.

My mind cleared up again.

Regulus ran several dozen meters further before stopping and turning around.

The black mist churned in place, unable to catch up. The black spike had already melted back into itself, and the cave entrance quickly closed after Betelgeuse's will dissipated.

He rushed out, the moonlight shining on him, and beneath his feet was the still-untouched heather grass in the wasteland, gleaming in the moonlight.

There was a cut on my left rib, about six or seven centimeters long, deep enough to see the dark muscle texture underneath.

Blood flowed from the wound, soaking up the fabric along the inside of the robe before trickling down the belt and dripping onto the grass at his feet, splashing up a small blood flower.

The wound was black, and a wisp of black energy was spreading slowly but clearly from the edge of the wound.

His magic had automatically converged on the wound, pressing against the edge of the black mist, trying to stop it.

The two forces collided within his flesh, and his magic was being eroded layer by layer. The speed at which it could be replenished was almost too fast. He managed to block some of it, but not much.

This is the first time I've ever been injured in my life.

It needs to be addressed.

He looked up, and the black mist was still expanding and contracting in place, like a living creature gathering strength.