A Textbook Performance

"Glory?" Sirius suddenly stood up, his chair sliding backward as he did so.

"Look closely at what that is! Black energy is seeping out of that box! Bellatrix, wasn't it enough that Voldemort drove you mad? Now you want to Regulus down with you?"

Bellatrix abruptly turned her head towards him, her tone icy cold. "Shut up, traitors have no right to speak here, and you dare to comment on that Dark Lord's gift?"

Regulus had no doubt that if they weren't at the Black family, Bellatrix would have attacked Sirius directly with the most vicious curse.

Sirius's face flushed red instantly, and he clenched his fists.

"I'm trash? Then what are you? Voldemort's mad dog? The one that chases after people and licks their heels--"

"Enough." Orion's voice wasn't loud, but it silenced everyone.

Orion braced himself on the edge of the table, stood up, and his gaze first swept over Sirius, then fell on Bellatrix's face, and finally settled on Regulus.

Regulus didn't look up; his face was expressionless, and he didn't look at him.

He already knew what was going on.

"The gift," Orion said calmly, without any emotional fluctuation, "Is for Regulus to accept."

Walburga breathed a sigh of relief and a smile appeared on his face.

Sirius opened his mouth as if to say something, but a glance from Orion made him grit his teeth and swallow his words, his chest heaving violently.

Bellatrix turned back to Regulus, her face regaining that eerie, eager smile.

"That's more like it." She pushed the Bone Box forward again. "Take it, let that Dark Lord see that the Heir of the Black family deserves this gift."

Regulus looked at the Bone Box in front of him.

All eyes in the restaurant were on him.

Walburga's expectations, Bellatrix's coercion, Sirius's anger, and Orion's silence.

He quickly went through the options in his mind.

Refusing was definitely out of the question; the Black family did not refuse Voldemort's power.

Bellatrix is dangerous and insane, but Regulus doesn't care; killing Bellatrix wouldn't be difficult.

But Bellatrix came representing Voldemort, and her presence here represents Voldemort's attitude.

No refusal allowed.

Acceptance is the only viable path, but how to accept it requires careful consideration.

What did Voldemort want to see?

A Black family heir drawn to dark forces, becoming addicted to them, and gradually falling into depravity?

Or is he a Pure-bloods genius who can easily control the darkness?

Neither.

He needed a middle ground: to be shocked, attracted, and struggle against temptation before finally managing to achieve initial success.

A young wizard with immense potential, but still under control.

Regulus raised his hand, first touching the edge of the Bone Box, his fingertips feeling a chill belonging to a collective of negative energy.

The Rune lit up the moment they made contact, turning from dark gold to dark purple. However, the light did not radiate outwards; instead, it converged inwards and was absorbed.

He gripped the Bone Box.

Then all sound disappeared; it was a stripping away of perception.

The way Walburga opened his mouth to speak, Bellatrix's widening smile, Orion's suddenly contracting pupils, and Sirius's forward lunge.

All of this becomes a slow-motion pantomime, the colors fade, leaving only black, white, and gray outlines.

The contents of the Bone Box came to life.

It burrowed into the skin along the point of contact, but it had no physical form, nor was it Magic Power; it was more like a living concept.

Darkness, pain, temptation, madness—these abstract words have taken on concrete form at this moment.

Thick ink seeped into my veins, countless voices whispered in my ears, and fragmented illusions exploded before my eyes.

Regulus saw a ruin.

It was a cluster of buildings with an exotic style, a city, burning under a blood-red sky, completely unfamiliar, and of an unknown era.

The air was filled with a strong smell of sulfur and the putrid odor of a large number of dead bodies, but it didn't smell bad; instead, it had a strange fragrance.

He saw a figure standing in the middle of the ruins, with his back to him, his black robe billowing in the heat.

A figure raised a hand casually, but all the surrounding buildings collapsed silently, the bricks turning into black powder before they even hit the ground.

The collapse spread until the entire city vanished, until the very edge of illusion.

As far as the eye could see, all that remained was a layer of blackish-gray.

strength.

Pure, primal, unrestrained power.

The mere act of displaying its existence is a temptation.

You can do this, you can have these things, you can become a wizard who looks down upon all living beings.

The whispers became clearer:

"Pain is fuel..."

"Fear is the best catalyst..."

"Love? Compassion? Those are weaknesses, chains, obstacles to truth..."

"Tear them apart, tear apart all Restraints, and you will see the real world..."

The illusion began to change, becoming more personalized, like a bespoke creation.

Regulus saw himself in the Corridor of Hogwarts, surrounded by students who cast awe or fearful glances at him simply because of his presence.

He saw himself standing on some high place, with a crowd crawling below him, including wizards, Muggle, and faces he knew and didn't recognize.

He raised his hand, and the crowd cheered, their voices rising like waves.

that power.

Another form of temptation, more subtle, and more in line with the true desires of a Pureblood families heir.

that power.

Another form of temptation, more subtle, and more in line with the true desires of a Pureblood families heir.

But in my heart, I didn't take it seriously. Was he testing me with this?

Would anyone succumb to such temptation?

Regulus's core consciousness hovered steadily in the center of the Spiritual World.

The Star Orbit Meditation is in full operation, Orion Four Stars shine with a hot and steady light against the dark background.

Each star is an anchor point, firmly fixing his core consciousness, unaffected by external illusions and whispers.

The Legilimency was initiated simultaneously.

He constructed a complex labyrinthine passageway around his mind, actively guiding the dark Magic Power and illusions into a pre-set circuit.

Then, in a Isolation Zone of the labyrinth, he used a portion of his mind to simulate a Regulus.

This person possesses the qualities he should have.

A thirst for power, an acceptance of the Pure-bloods ideology, and awe of Voldemort.

The Simulated Personality saw ruins and a figure in black robes.

It heard whispers.

It felt the temptation.

Outside, in the restaurant, Regulus's body began to react.

His hand holding the Bone Box trembled slightly, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, sliding down his temples and gathering at his chin.

His breathing became rapid, and his chest heaved noticeably.

The eyes are the hardest part of the face to fake.

Regulus controlled slight twitches in the orbicularis oculi muscle, causing the pupil to intermittently defocus and then refocus, simulating the physiological response when one suffers a mental shock.

His lips tightened, then unconsciously opened, uttering a few broken syllables.

Some ancient, distorted fragment of language, a piece of knowledge deliberately leaked from Dark Enlightenment.

The voice was like a murmur, but the restaurant was so quiet that every word was clearly audible.

Bellatrix's eyes lit up.

She leaned forward dramatically, her face showing excitement and greed.

Walburga covered his mouth, his fingers trembling, whether from worry or excitement, it was hard to tell.

Sirius had already rushed to this side of the long table, but Orion raised his hand to stop him.

The father's hand pressed down on his son's shoulder with great force, making Sirius unable to move.

Orion stared at Regulus's face.

He was observing the details.

As an experienced wizard who had undergone countless Magic tests and real battles, he knew what a true mental shock was like.

Chaos, loss of control, physiological reactions and mental anguish occur simultaneously.

Then he realized that Regulus's performance was too perfect.

The standard shock, the standard pain, the standard struggle.

It's like a textbook demonstrating how a wizard should react when encountering highly potent Dark Arts items.

But something is missing.

It lacks the sudden panic, the instinctive resistance when consciousness is violently invaded, and the uncontrolled leakage of Magic Power caused by the intense conflict between external Magic Power and the host's Magic Power.

Regulus's Magic Fluctuation were indeed unstable, but that instability seemed to be designed: first dark, then intense, then calm, and then entering the next cycle.

This isn't right; the rhythm is too predictable.

Orion's fingers tightened on Sirius's shoulder.

Sirius sensed it and turned to look at his father, but Orion didn't give him a glance, only staring at Regulus.

Time passed.

Within the Mind Maze, the confrontation between Simulated Personality enters a crucial stage.

It failed to defeat the Dark Enlightenment; that's impossible, and it doesn't meet Voldemort's expectations.

It is merely compromising, guiding, and taming to a limited extent.

The Simulated Personality uses its own dark tendencies as a bridge to connect with that external force, constructing an unstable symbiosis.

In a corner of the labyrinth, a cage was created to temporarily imprison the core of enlightenment within.

The cage was transparent, and the dark Magic Power within still surged, whispered, and displayed illusions, but it was confined to a fixed area, unable to impact other parts of the Simulated Personality.

At the same time, the Simulated Personality learned something from this encounter.

How to more efficiently transform negative emotions into Magic Power output, a simplified triggering logic of an ancient curse, and a few not-so-profound Dark Arts.

This knowledge is true.

Dark Enlightenment does indeed provide this information as bait for temptation.

If you want more, you have to keep going deeper and deeper until there's no turning back.

Regulus allowed the Simulated Personality to accept these ideas, but not to absorb them entirely. Instead, he stored them in Isolation Zone for later analysis.

External appearance is adjusted accordingly.

Regulus's trembling began to subside, his breathing gradually became steady, and his pupils refocused.

Sweat was still streaming down his forehead and neck, and his face regained some color from its paleness.

His grip on the Bone Box slowly loosened, and he no longer held it so tightly.