How Do You Want to Compete?

Hermes nodded and did not ask any further questions.

He could tell that Regulus didn't want to say more, and he guessed that some things were too complicated. As for why Regulus knew, he wasn't puzzled.

The silence lasted for a few more seconds.

Avery glanced at Hermes, then at Regulus, and tapped his fingers on the armrest of his chair.

Alex remained standing by the window, his body turned to the side, his gaze fixed on the center of the Dormitory.

Regulus could sense the change in Hermes.

He used to be gloomy, a loner, with a certain disdain for everything around him in his eyes.

The contempt and indifference of the past have been replaced by something more complex: gratitude, vigilance, and something else entirely.

But Hermes is Hermes after all, a wizard from the Mulciber family who was exposed to Dark Arts from a young age and has an inherent obsession with power and pride.

That kind of pride is different from Avery's.

Avery is proud of his family lineage, his Pure-bloods status, and the status that the Cuthbert surname represents.

Hermes was proud of the power he wielded, of the Dark Arts that could truly harm and kill, and of the things passed down in his family that were feared by most wizards.

Regulus could probably guess what Hermes was thinking.

He felt he possessed true power and believed that in an unrestrained life-or-death duel, he might have a chance to win with his Dark Arts.

Abros Mulciber probably told his son to follow Regulus Black to school.

But Hermes himself must verify whether Regulus is truly worthy of following.

So when Hermes raised his head, stared at Regulus, and uttered those words, Regulus was not surprised.

I want to fight you again.

Avery sat bolt upright, his eyes lighting up and a wide grin spreading across his face.

Alex turned his head, his brows furrowed, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but he didn't utter a sound, only looking at Regulus.

Regulus looked at Hermes.

His face was pale, but his eyes were resolute. His fingers trembled slightly at his sides, and Regulus could tell that it wasn't fear.

Hermes was excited; even wizards get adrenaline.

"Why?" Regulus asked calmly.

"Do I need a reason?" Hermes retorted, his voice somewhat cold and hard. "I want to know how strong you are. Last semester doesn't count; I wasn't prepared, and you weren't serious either."

Regulus understood what he was trying to say.

Hermes needs either a crushing defeat or an unexpected victory to confirm his position.

He wasn't completely convinced yet; he still felt he had a trump card and a chance.

"Okay." Regulus nodded.

Avery nearly jumped out of his chair, Alex muttered something under his breath, but no one paid him any attention.

"Not in the Dormitory," Regulus added, "You won't be able to move freely there."

He turned and walked towards the door, glancing back as he gripped the doorknob.

Hermes had already stood up, Avery quickly followed, and Alex hesitated for a second before catching up as well.

The four left the Slytherin common room and walked up the underground Corridor.

They encountered several older students on the way, who cast curious glances at them upon seeing their actions, but no one asked any questions.

Regulus walked ahead, and he agreed to the contest for only one reason.

Hermes needs to be thoroughly convinced; verbal persuasion is useless, and binding him with shared interests is insufficient. He must personally experience the difference in their abilities.

Experience that feeling of powerlessness, even the despair of not being able to see the gap between you and the world.

Only in this way will Hermes truly set aside his pride and seriously consider following her.

Seventh Floor, opposite the Tapestry.

Regulus paced back and forth in the Corridor three times, silently thinking that he needed a large enough dueling arena.

A wooden door appeared, and he pushed it open.

Inside is a standard Dueling Training Ground.

Avery was the first to go in, his footsteps making a dull thud on the wooden planks.

He looked around, his eyes widening. "The Room of Requirement... it really exists!"

Alex followed him in, carefully stepping on the floor as if to check if it was solid.

He looked up at the ceiling, then at the wall, his lips slightly parted.

Hermes the last to enter.

He wasn't particularly interested in the venue itself, but quickly glanced at the layout; it was open, unobstructed, and suitable for movement and spellcasting.

His attention was entirely on Regulus; he had already raised his wand halfway, but then forced himself to lower it.

"Rules?" Hermes asked, his voice echoing slightly in the empty Training Ground.

"You decide," Regulus said, walking to the center of the field and turning to face him.

Avery and Alex consciously retreated to the wall and stood close to the corner.

Avery crossed his arms and raised his chin slightly, looking like he was about to watch a good show.

Alex stood a little further away, his body tense, his eyes darting back and forth between the two men.

Hermes stopped ten meters away from Regulus, took a deep breath, his chest heaving, and steadied his hand holding the wand.

"I want to know the real gap," he said firmly, "So..."

He hadn't finished speaking.

Regulus raised his right hand slightly, his fingers merely flicking, causing ripples to appear in the air.

Hermes felt a sharp pain in his throat.

A Stone Spike appeared out of nowhere, its tip pressed against half a centimeter below his Adam's apple, just enough to pierce his skin and draw out a drop of blood.

The Stone Spike hung there, motionless, as if it were meant to be in that position.

Hermes froze.

He didn't see how the Stone Spike came to be, nor did he see the flash of the spell, nor did he sense any signs of a spell being cast.

One second the air was empty, the next a deadly object appeared.

Alex gasped, Avery's eyes widened as he leaned forward, trying to see every detail clearly.

Regulus stood still, without even taking out his wand.

He just stared at Hermes, his expression as calm as if he had simply waved a duster off his sleeve.

Hermes' throat moved, and the swallowing motion caused the tip of the Stone Spike to penetrate half a millimeter deeper into his skin.

He could feel warm blood flowing down his neck, soaking his collar.

He slowly backed away, his steps light and cautious.

The Stone Spike didn't follow; it remained suspended in place, its tip still stained with his blood.

After retreating two meters, Hermes dared to raise his hand to touch his neck. The wet, sticky sensation as his fingers touched the wound made his heart pound.

He stared at the Stone Spike, and only now could he see it clearly: it was about fifteen centimeters long, as thick as a magic wand, with a rough surface and a sharp tip.

It just hung there in the air, neither floating nor moving, as if it were nailed there by invisible nails.

Just as he was about to breathe a sigh of relief, the Stone Spike began to spin.

At first, the trajectory of each circle was still visible to the naked eye, then it accelerated, getting faster and faster, until it became a blurry gray shadow.

The spinning motion created a whooshing sound that was particularly clear in the empty Training Ground.

Accelerate again.

The surface of the Stone Spike began to turn red, and the high-speed rotation and friction with the air generated heat, raising the temperature to the point that the stone emitted a red glow.

The air was heated, creating distorted heat waves around the Stone Spike. As light passed through, it refracted, making the red shadow appear to pulsate.

The sound changed from the wind to a sharp screech.

Avery stared, forgetting to breathe, while Alex took a half-step back, his back pressed against the wall.

Hermes stared at the red, hissing, rapidly spinning Stone Spike.

The scene from last semester in the Dormitory flashed through his mind: Regulus made the air malfunction, and he suffocated and collapsed.

When I got home, I asked my father, and he said it was an advanced application of Transfiguration.

He didn't believe it at the time, but when he experienced that suffocating feeling again, he believed it.

What tactic will they use this time?

Or is it Transfiguration?

What did it transform from?

He glanced at the entire Training Ground out of the corner of his eye; it was spacious and the ground was spotless, not even dusty.

Regulus certainly didn't intend to kill him; if he had, the Stone Spike would have pierced his throat when they appeared.

Or, you could accelerate to a speed that could heat a stone red-hot, and with a casual flick, you could smash his head open.

He was simply demonstrating his power.

I can take your life anytime, without a wand, without a spell, and without even letting you see how I do it.

The next moment, the Stone Spike stopped spinning.

The process of going from high speed to stillness is so abrupt that it violates the laws of physics. One second it is still hissing and glowing, and the next second it is frozen in the air, without even any inertia.

The red light faded quickly, the stone cooled, and returned to its original grayish-white color.

Then the Stone Spike dissipated, like sand being blown away by the wind; the particles drifted in the air and disappeared after a few seconds.

The Training Ground fell silent again.

Hermes remained standing there, the blood on his neck no longer flowing, only the stinging pain of the wound reminding him of what had just happened.

His throat was dry; he wanted to speak, but no sound came out.

Regulus looked at him, waited a few seconds, and then spoke again, "Now, how do you want to compete?"

Hermes took ten seconds to adjust his breathing.

He raised his hand to wipe the blood from his neck, his fingers pausing briefly at the wound. It was very shallow, just a superficial injury, requiring no healing spell.

What he just witnessed shattered all his preconceived notions.