Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 573 Even Giants' Language Must Be Learned

Heroga's features weren't ugly; among Titans, he would definitely be considered to have superior aesthetics, far more attractive than the blurry faces of ordinary Titans.

But to Geralt, or to Regulus, Herogia was at best not ugly.

Regulus Black, with the exquisite features inherited from the Black family, every line from his eyebrows to his jawline is the result of centuries of selection from pure-blooded noble lineage.

Geralt, in his Witcher persona, takes a different approach: rugged, tough, wild, with long silver hair, amber vertical pupils, and a masculine aura so strong it can be smelled from miles away.

No matter which standard of beauty you use to judge Gerroga, the conclusion is the same: she's alright.

However, the face peeking out from under the helmet on the other side was a completely different story.

Hilde noticed Geralt's gaze.

The icy gray eyes behind the visor lowered and peered at him through the gaps.

Geralt's mouth widened a little more as he laughed. After laughing for a while, he realized that Hilde was no longer looking at him.

Geralt looked at Dumbledore again, pondering a question.

So what exactly does the old man want to do?

Summon him to Norway and have him fight Hilde. Four matches, from being slapped into the sky by a dark purple pillar of light.

He had no doubt that the old man and Herogia had arranged all four fights together from beginning to end, with the timing, rhythm, opponents, and choices all under their control.

The game is over, so what's next?

He had thought a lot about the giants' magic in the fjord cabin: the fusion of magic and the body, the way giants exerted force in sync, and the path to physical enhancement.

He thought Dumbledore had summoned him so that he could see these things, see the correct path on the giants, and figure it out for himself.

He did indeed achieve some results, such as the experiment on synchronizing hand magic and the fusion of protection and burst, and these will not change because of the old man's purpose.

But he is indeed a little unsure now, and is not sure if he is overthinking things.

Perhaps the old man really wanted him to see how the giant's magic worked, perhaps the old man just wanted him to get to know Hilde, perhaps both, perhaps neither.

Judging from the old man's expression, he doesn't seem to be planning to say anything.

So he decided to stop guessing and turned his gaze to Dumbledore, asking directly, "So I met Hilde, fought, and fought several times, and then what?"

"So, how exactly does this social event work?"

He spoke in English, Dumbledore's blue eyes flashed behind his glasses, and then he spoke, but in Norwegian.

Geralt knew from the first word that the old man was deliberately making sure everyone in the room could understand him.

Herogia raised his large eyeballs slightly, and Hilde's icy gray eyes behind her visor also twitched.

"Hilde is almost an adult, and I talked to Herogia for a long time. I think she should go out and see the world."

Dumbledore turned his gaze to Herod, only to see the giant looking at him with silent eyes, offering no rebuttal.

The old man smiled and then turned his gaze to Hilde: "Young people should always take advantage of their youth to go out and see the world."

Hilde remained silent, while the old man turned his gaze to Geralt, a deep smile on his face: "Young people need companions. Walking alone is one way, walking with someone is another."

Geralt turned his head and glanced at the corner of the doorway, just in time to see Hilde look away from him.

He caught the tail that was moving, and his icy gray eyes turned a tiny angle through the gap in the visor.

Geralt grinned again.

Hilde stopped looking at him.

So this is how social gatherings work: two old guys get together, one has a daughter, and the other has a silver-haired adventurer they picked up from who-knows-where, and they become a couple. The young people are still young, so they go out together and can look after each other.

He didn't object to the arrangement.

Hilde is an incredibly fierce fighter. He has certainly seen people who are even fiercer than her, and frankly, he is one of them.

But the old man said she was underage. If she's this fierce even before she's an adult, what will she be like when she's an adult?

His gaze swept along the outline of the armor from top to bottom, so this head could still grow longer?

Hilde seemed to sense that he was being scrutinized, and her icy gray eyes behind her visor narrowed slightly.

Geralt grinned and stared, their eyes meeting.

He's younger, he's fiercer, and apart from his size, Regulus Black is no less formidable.

Also, once you're familiar with her, you can directly ask her what Dumbledore taught her.

They were taught by the same old man, so they don't make any mistakes when asked questions.

Besides, we've already come all this way, we've gotten to know each other, and we've already fought four times. If we can fight like this without ever exchanging a single word, what will happen when we get to know each other? We'll fight like crazy.

But there's a problem.

Geralt turned his gaze back to Dumbledore, his expression somewhat complicated, and asked in English, "So?"

"You want me to drop out of school?"

Herroga's large eyes flickered, moving from Dumbledore to Geralt, and then back to Dumbledore.

Hilde watched Geralt from the corner of the doorway.

She didn't understand what the sentence meant; the man was speaking English, and she could only catch the tone and rhythm. But her father's reaction to the sentence was stronger than before.

The professor was British, and this guy named Geralt also spoke English.

The professor always spoke Gigantic language when communicating with her and her father, and she only knew Gigantic language and Norwegian.

I'm almost an adult, it's time to learn a new language.

English.

Dumbledore's blue eyes, behind his half-moon spectacles, first glanced at Geralt with surprise, then his expression turned to one of utter bewilderment before he chuckled, "Of course not."

Then the blue eyes narrowed slightly.

Last semester, this kid transformed into Geralt and ran around, following him to several places. He quite liked having this kid by his side.

But the old man's tone suddenly became serious: "Don't even think about it!"

Geralt shrugged and spread his hands.

You're the principal, you're older, so you're the one who calls the shots.

"Her age is among the giants..." Dumbledore switched back to Norwegian and said to Geralt, "Only a little older than you. Time is enough for both of you."

Geralt glanced at Dumbledore's smiling face, then at Herogane's still silent figure sitting on the Great Stone Chair.

It turns out he was the companion these two old guys had arranged for Hilde; he'd been set up.

Geralt stood up from the green chair, and Herod's grey-green eyes followed him slowly, while Dumbledore's blue eyes watched him with a smile.

Geralt walked up to Hilde, looked up, and saw Hilde's leg armor. He continued looking upwards to see her waist armor, breastplate, shoulder armor, and visor.

He subtly moved his feet back, finding a distance where he could tilt his head back without much effort.

Then he raised his right hand high, straightened his arm, and opened his palm, facing Hilde.

As far as he knew, aside from the possibility of getting scratched if he reached out to a cat, reaching out was a friendly gesture to most intelligent species.

Hilde lowered her visor and saw the hand raised in the air through the gap. She remained silent for a moment.

Then she reached out and took off her helmet, placing it on a protruding ridge of the stone wall beside her.

A dark bronze braid cascaded down from under the helmet, falling onto the sides of the shoulder armor.

The face reappeared, with its delicate light gray skin and narrow, icy gray eyes, exposed to the air without any cover.

She looked down at Geralt.

Geralt tilted his head back, raised his hand, grinned, and the golden light in his amber vertical pupils danced.

After a short while, Hilde began to remove the armor from her right hand.

The metal parts clicked and clacked in the dim light as they were disassembled piece by piece.

The gauntlet loosened from the wrist, and the forearm plate came off, revealing the light gray skin underneath.

Finally, the nail covers were removed one by one, with the fingers pulled out from inside.

The movements weren't fast; Geralt disassembled the parts one by one, maintaining his raised hand gesture as he watched Hilde remove each piece.

After the dismemberment was completed, Hilde's right hand was revealed to be very large, with a broad palm, thick and long fingers, and distinct knuckles. The proportions of her fingers were the same as her face, with clear lines, unlike the blunt feel of ordinary giants.

She extended her right hand, which was wider than Geralt's entire upper body, and Geralt could see the intricate veins crisscrossing at her wrist.

Geralt's hand touched Hilde's hand, and his entire hand was completely enveloped by her palm.

Fingers, palms, wrists—all were concealed within Hilde's palms, disappearing from sight.

Geralt raised his gaze, looking up at Hilde's face. The close-up angle made her features appear even sharper.

Her icy gray eyes looked down at him, seemingly devoid of any emotion.

But at this close range, Geralt noticed a subtle change in her pale gray face; her eyelashes trembled very slightly, as if a tiny thought had just drifted through her mind.

Geralt's heart skipped a beat.

Hilde's fingers tightened slightly, and then she began to lift them upwards.

Geralt's arm was straightened, and his whole body was lifted upwards.

He had no idea.

Heels left the ground first, then toes, leaving the whole person suspended in the air.

Hilde lifted him up little by little, her movements slow and even.

Geralt's body was raised from her thigh level, past her waist armor, past her breastplate, all the way up to a position level with her eye level.

He was suspended in the air, one hand held above his head by Hilde, the other hand hanging at his side, his body swaying slightly, with three or four meters of air beneath his feet.

His expression froze on his face; the smile hadn't completely faded, but his eyebrows had already furrowed, and his mouth was slightly open, unsure whether to continue smiling or say something.

Two faces met, one small, one large, less than an arm's length apart.

Looking at Hilde's face from this distance, all the details are revealed.

The skin texture is very fine, light gray, and the skin quality is so delicate that it shouldn't exist in the world of Titans. The color of the eyebrows is half a shade lighter than the hair color, a dark copper color that leans towards light brown.

Her eyelashes were light brown, not very long, but very thick, and the thin layer of downy hair on her cheekbones shimmered with dark gold edges under the light of the mineral lamp.

Those long, narrow, icy gray eyes were right in front of him.

His magical perception is accurate down to the muscle fiber level. His amber vertical pupils can see ants a hundred meters away in the dark. At such close range, he can see the patterns on the ice-gray iris and the extremely subtle color changes at the edge of the pupil.

His facial expression remained completely unchanged, and there was no obvious fluctuation in his icy gray pupils.

But he could sense that beneath that silence, there was something youthful, vibrant, and appropriate for someone her age.

Then Hilde's lips moved, and a few syllables murmured from her thin lips.

Giants speak, tiny humans.

This was the first time Geralt had heard Hilde's voice.

The audio was lower and hoarser than he had expected, but it was definitely a woman's voice, with a heavy guttural tone and a slightly grating texture.

Geralt was suspended in mid-air, his two faces facing each other.

He didn't understand.

His smile returned to his face, and his lips parted in a wide grin.

It's time to learn the language of the Giants.