Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 559 You two handle this yourselves

Geralt licked his lips and raised his right hand to rub his mouth with his thumb.

The first half of his rant was planned, but the second half was a bit uncontrollable. He didn't intend to stop, and the words just kept coming out of his mouth without any pause. He finished it in one breath, and his throat was a little dry.

Those are words that one wouldn't normally say, or words that are polite, proper, and appropriate to one's status.

Regulus Black would never publicly denounce the Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix as two groups of goblins fighting over territory, nor would he say that those who wear black robes and those who wear white robes are not much different except for their color.

But Geralt didn't care. Nobody knew where Geralt came from, so he could say whatever he wanted, however he wanted, and he didn't need to smooth things over or make amends after he finished cursing.

To be honest, the criticism wasn't entirely made up on the spot; it contained some genuine thoughts, opinions on the styles of both sides, and impressions of the overall behavior of the wizarding community.

It was quite satisfying to have Geralt speak for him. He didn't care how much Herogane understood; as long as he grasped the general meaning, it didn't matter if he didn't understand the specific words.

Fabian stood behind, his mouth finally shut, his expression too complicated. He didn't know whether to first understand Geralt's intentions or to think about how he, as a member of the Order of the Phoenix, had been insulted to his face.

How are the Order of the Phoenix perceived in the public eye? Are they seen as guardians of justice, or just another group of wizards recruiting and fighting?

Herogia hadn't moved since Gerald finished cursing, his grey-green eyes still fixed on him.

Then his expression began to slowly change. Before, at the door, he was a silent stone, showing no emotion whatsoever, and even his responses were stingy.

At this moment, his thick eyebrows moved slightly towards the middle, the curve of his thick lips drooped slightly, and his facial features became more focused, shifting from looking to thinking.

The clanging of metal from the forging area rang out twice more, echoing through several stone walls.

Heroga remained silent for a long time before slowly speaking, in that same slow, low tone: "You want..."

Learn, what do you give?

Geralt's heart skipped a beat.

He wanted to learn the giants' magical properties, which he had just told Heroga about, and Heroga asked him what he would give in exchange.

If the giants' magical traits are purely bloodline-based, innate, and inherent from birth, then there's no such thing as exchanging them; they can't learn them, and exchanging them for anything is pointless.

But the fact that Herogia asked this question indicates that this thing can be exchanged, learned, or given to others.

Therefore, it is not just bloodline, not just innate racial characteristics, but also a kind of knowledge or memory that can be passed on.

He looked at Herogia, his amber vertical pupils gleaming with golden light: "Of course, I brought something with me."

He pulled a fist-sized cloth bag from his vest pocket, reached inside, pulled out the two-meter square copper-silver alloy plate, and threw it directly on the ground.

A crisp impact rang out in the stone house. The sound of metal hitting rammed earth was amplified in the empty room, then quickly absorbed by the stone walls.

The surface of the board is dark gold, and under the dim indoor light, it gleams with a fine silver sheen. The fine lines intertwine and nest, spreading outwards from the center and ending in a closed loop at the edge.

Heroga's gaze fell on the metal plate, starting from the top left corner and slowly moving to the right along the silver patterns, a look that lasted for nearly half a minute.

Geralt crouched beside the metal plate, looking up at him: "There are some images stored inside, interesting stories. You can see them by putting your magic in."

Heroga didn't act immediately. He looked around for a while before lifting his right hand off the armrest and then slamming it down again.

Geralt's perception switched from passive to active in an instant, and he caught the change the moment Herogia's palm fell down again.

The magic within him was originally diffused and evenly distributed throughout his body, but the moment his palm pressed down, all the magic began to flow in one direction.

It flows from all parts of the body toward the right arm, past the shoulder, past the elbow, past the wrist, and converges on the plane where the palm touches the armrest, with a distinct fluid texture.

The density of magic instantly increased in that small area, changing from a diffuse state to a focused state, and then began to be output.

The flow from Heroga's palm into the armrest of the stone chair, down the armrest, across the entire granite block, and into the rammed earth of the ground, was smooth and definite, without the slightest hesitation or trial and error, and the direction was precise.

Geralt's amber vertical pupils narrowed slightly as he focused all his attention and perception, concentrating entirely on that path.

Magic travels more slowly through stone and soil than through air, and has a heavier granular feel; every inch of the medium along the path alters the texture of the magic.

Heroglia's magic was filtered through the granite by its mineral components and stained by the iron minerals within it. By the time it reached the alchemical plate along the rammed earth, it bore the mark of the land beneath the stone house.

Geralt perceived everything and confirmed that the intelligent giant could actively call upon its own magic, could gather it, could output it, could control its direction and path, and could act on external carriers.

really.

Almost at the same time, the metal plate lit up.

From the upper left corner of the panel, the silver spiral patterns lit up one after another, spreading out along the carved grooves at a uniform speed.

The shimmering patterns changed from silver to gold, flowing across the dark gold surface, covering an increasingly larger and denser area.

Gold and silver threads intertwine, light travels between the loops, and a light curtain rises above the panel, creating a three-dimensional light and shadow image that floats half a meter high.

Herogia lowered his chin slightly, his gaze fixed on the light screen. He watched intently, without judgment, preparation, or even prior understanding; he was simply observing.

The first story begins with two armies facing off outside a valley. Messengers arrive at the valley entrance, where the giant leader sits on a stone chair, and two messengers stand before him.

The scene switches to the first version, where the giants take sides, rush out of the valley, and win. Then the lord demands that they move away, and Herogia's expression remains unchanged.

The scene switches to the second version, where the Titans don't help either side, and both armies are wounded in the end. The victor turns to negotiate, and the Titans state their demands. Heroga's eyes twitch slightly.

The second set of images lit up. "Take action only if you see it, don't move if you don't." Heroga's brows furrowed slightly, and his two thick eyebrows twisted a little in the middle.

In the middle groups, they waited at the mountain pass until the enemy was exhausted before attacking, sat on the hilltop watching two tribes fight each other, and formed alliances with distant neighbors as a deterrent. Heroga's brows furrowed deeper and deeper, showing signs of deep thought beyond his focus.

In the last group, two huge forces used different colored flags to win over the giant tribes. The tribes that took sides lived worse than before, while only one tribe that did not take sides maintained its original size, and both sides treated it with courtesy.

Neutrality is the most expensive bargaining chip.

From the beginning to the end of the screen, Heroga's gaze remained fixed on the same spot, even after the screen went dark and the image disappeared.

After the eight sets of images were played, the stone house went dark again.

Heroga withdrew his magic, walked back along the rammed earth, returned to his palm, and then diffused it back into his body, the whole process as smooth and certain as when he released it.

Then he fell silent.

Geralt stood opposite him, hands in his pockets, waiting. Phoebe and Gideon stood behind him, also silent. The stone house was so quiet that the muffled footsteps of the giants could be heard in the distance.

Herodka lifted his gaze from the board and landed on Geralt's face: "Your reason is right."

Geralt twitched the corner of his mouth and tilted his head.

The reasoning is certainly correct. It applies to giants, it applies to humans, and it applies to any race that needs to make a choice to survive.

They stand up to scrutiny and are simple in themselves.

See it before you fight; not fighting means you'll live longer than fighting. Before choosing a side, make sure you understand the situation. Don't be the first to rush out, and don't rush in when everyone else is anxious. Wait until others are tired before you leave.

It's something everyone can understand. Giants can understand it, wizards can understand it, and even fairies, centaurs, and merfolk can understand it. Even Sirius Black can understand it.

But a simple truth can transcend race and language, and be accepted by a giant leader within minutes, precisely because it is so true.

Thousands of years of war, alliances, and bloodshed have yielded experiences that can be distilled down to just a few words.

These words hold true in any world, any situation, any era, and any conflict.

The strategic wisdom that humanity has accumulated over thousands of years is something that even Dumbledore, when he saw it, was not unmoved, let alone the giant before him.

Heroga then said, "So, Ineed, See."

Geralt's right eyelid twitched, and his expression became somewhat subtle.

The second set of stories, the principle of "see it before you act, don't act if you don't see it," was engraved in his own mind, and Heroga used it against him.

He told the giant to take a look before making a decision, and the giant actually did look. After looking, he decided not to make a decision yet, but to go out and take a look first.

Geralt shrugged, glanced down at the board on the ground, then looked up at Herroga.

Fabian secretly poked Gideon in the waist from behind, but Gideon stepped aside and didn't get poked.

Heroga continued, "I, send someone, go see, outside, if, like you say."

A thought instantly popped into Geralt's mind: by following the person who went out, he could observe the giant's magical properties up close.

He had initially thought he would learn, that the other person would teach him, but he wasn't sure how the giant's magic was transmitted—verbal instruction? Demonstration? Or did he need to observe closely for a long time to figure it out?

If Heroga sent someone to accompany him, he would have time to observe, compare, and record the giant's magic under different conditions.

Then a second thought popped into his head: if Herod sent someone out to check, that wouldn't conflict with Dumbledore's purpose in sending him here.

Heroga wanted to observe the entire process before making a decision. During this time, the tribe remained neutral, allowing him to both focus on his work and gain an opportunity for observation and research.

Once you've had your fill of looking, just send them to Dumbledore's side. You can do both the mission and the side job at the same time, and you won't lose out either way.

He patted his chest and nodded: "I'll bring your people with me, so you can see for yourself along the way."

"You want to take, my people; you want to learn, my power," Herroga's voice rang out again: "You, two, handle."

You want to take my people away, you want to learn my power, you two settle it yourselves.

After saying this, Herogia moved away from Geralt and landed in a corner of the stone house, ignoring everyone.

His expression shifted from focused concentration to a silent state, as if he hadn't cared about anything since entering the room.

Suddenly, a figure blocked most of the light outside the doorway. Hilde had moved from the left side of the stone house to the front door at some point, facing away from the light.

Geralt turned around, and Fabian and Gideon turned around almost simultaneously.

Hilde took a step inside from the doorway, her metal boots making a short, dull thud on the rammed earth.

Sunlight spilled out from the edges of the armor, outlining his figure as a dark silhouette. A sliver of light reflected from the gaps in the visor, revealing a pair of eyes that could be vaguely seen inside.

The two-handed battle axe was lifted from the ground, the handle was turned in Hilde's hand, the blade facing down, resting on her side, the weight of the axe causing a slight metallic squeaking sound from the joints of the armor on that arm.

He walked step by step toward Geralt, and with each step he took, the ground vibrated from his feet to his knees.

Hilde stopped about four or five steps in front of Geralt, her icy gray eyes behind her visor looking down at him through a narrow slit, her pupils still and devoid of emotion.

He raised the battle axe with one hand, the handle vertical and the blade upward, then flipped his wrist so the blade was downward and slammed it into the ground.

boom!

A loud bang exploded in the stone house, and cracks spread outward from the spot where the axe blade struck, following the texture of the rammed earth surface. The cracks extended left and right, with the two longest ones reaching all the way to Fabian's feet before stopping.

The ground jolted violently, with a tremor of at least magnitude seven or eight.

Geralt remained firmly planted on his feet. He glanced at Fabian and Gideon out of the corner of his eye and saw that their heels were almost off the ground. He tapped twice with his right index finger, and two deceleration and shock-absorbing effects landed on them. Their feet immediately landed firmly, and they regained their footing.

Hilde released her grip, leaving the battle axe standing upright in the middle of the rammed earth, handle facing upwards, blade embedded in the ground.

He stepped aside, tilted his head, and turned his visor toward the door, his mask facing Geralt.

Geralt met his icy gray eyes, and the corners of his mouth began to turn upwards.

So that's what it means to handle it yourself.

Several giants turned their heads in the distance, the clanging sounds from the forging area stopped, and several giants who were working in the open space between the stone houses straightened up and walked towards the central stone house.

Geralt stood before the battle axe, his eyes gleaming with golden light.

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