Come on, All of You

Freya waved, and the boss came over.

She spoke a few sentences quickly in German, faster than she spoke English, and Regulus could only catch a few words here and there.

Bro, bread, ur, sausage, roffeln, potato, Bier, beer.

The owner nodded and left; shortly after, the food was served.

A wooden tray, piled high with items.

A plate of sliced rye bread, dark in color, exudes a rich aroma of wheat.

Two plates of sausages, one plate of Nuremberg sausages fried until golden brown, long and thin, one bite at a time.

The other dish was Munich white sausage, short and thick, kept warm in water.

A plate of potato salad, with thinly sliced potatoes mixed with onions and pickles, and drizzled with some kind of creamy white sauce.

There were also two bowls of thick soup, with chunks of meat and vegetables floating in them, and a layer of oil on the surface.

Freya ordered herself a stout.

Regulus was a minor, so there was a glass of Pumpkin Juice in front of him.

The two began to eat.

Regulus cut off a piece of white sausage, peeled off the outer skin, dipped it in sweet mustard, and put it in his mouth.

The meat is delicate and has a subtle spice flavor, with marjoram, parsley, and cardamom, Taiyi from the robust sausages of UK.

He then tasted the potato salad; it was sour with a hint of sweetness, very appetizing.

Freya ate quietly. She cut off a small piece of sausage, put it in her mouth slowly, chewed almost silently, her lips closed, and her jaw moving slightly.

This contrasts sharply with his heroic and fierce image during battle.

Regulus ate quietly, and the two exchanged a few words occasionally.

"How long has this shop been open?" Regulus asked.

"Forty years," Freya said, "It was passed down from the boss's father."

"Do you come here often?" Regulus asked again.

"During the mission," Freya replied again.

She didn't talk much, but she answered every question, only briefly, without saying a word more.

Regulus didn't try to start a conversation; they just ate, occasionally glancing out the window and exchanging a few inconsequential words.

After finishing their meal, the two left the tavern.

The night outside was even darker than before.

A gap appeared in the clouds, and moonlight shone through, casting a narrow, silvery path across the sea that stretched into the darkness.

The sound of the waves was gentler than before, no longer so violent.

Freya walked in front, with Regulus following slightly behind her.

The two walked along the stone path toward the Cabin by the sea.

The moonlight cast long shadows of them on the ground, one tall and one short, one in front of the other.

Freya stopped at the door of the Cabin, and Regulus stopped as well.

Freya turned around and looked down at him.

"The Abyssal Whisper will be quiet for a few days," she said, her tone returning to its previous calm, "But they won't give up. Continue patrolling tomorrow. I'll wake you in the morning."

Regulus nodded.

Freya continued to look at him, then blinked.

Then her tone changed slightly, taking on a somewhat coaxing tone, like she was speaking to a child, and sounded a little unskilled, "Don't worry, they don't know who you are, don't fret."

Regulus tilted his head back, somewhat speechless.

He's twelve years old, not two.

Freya had already turned and left.

Her platinum blonde braid swung as she turned, tracing an arc in the air before draping over her shoulder.

She walked a little faster than usual, and Regulus wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but there seemed to be a hint of elation in her steps.

He watched her figure disappear around the corner of another building and shook his head slightly.

He pushed open the wooden door, went inside, and after a quick wash, Regulus lay down on the bed.

The ceiling was made of natural wood and had a few cracks, but they were well repaired. The sound of waves could be heard outside the window, coming in waves, like the rhythm of breathing.

After staring blankly for a while, he began to think.

Regulus analyzed himself; his mind seemed unusually sharp today.

This isn't a big problem. He's been here for over a decade and has always maintained a calm and rational state, but that doesn't mean he has no emotions or fluctuations.

Today I met an adult witch who left a deep impression on me; she possessed a charm that I admired.

He possesses a heroic physique, a cool yet handsome appearance, an efficient work style, and occasionally reveals subtle expressions that contrast sharply with his outward appearance.

These things he found interesting, which may have stimulated his thinking.

After all, he wasn't really a twelve-year-old boy.

He shook his head, banishing those thoughts, and returned to the main topic.

The system has matched you with the fantasy category. Click p

The first attack failed to achieve its intended purpose, was dodged by the opponent, and was even countered to some extent.

This shows that the Severing Charm is not invincible.

At least a valid hit is required.

If it's just a graze on the hem of clothing, or even just the extremities, an experienced wizard, quick enough and ruthless enough, can find a way to deal with it.

But the next attack was different.

By combining Spatial Warp and Spatial Anchor, he could directly teleport the spell onto the opponent's skin, resulting in a completely different effect; the opponent simply didn't have time to react.

A direct hit, instantly fatal.

In wizard duels, it's impossible for every spell to hit. The opponent will dodge, block, and use various methods to defend. If you manage to dodge it, so be it; just come at me again.

However, if the Severing Charm hits its target effectively, it can indeed kill instantly.

The effect is clear and sufficient.

Then, he killed someone for the first time.

Regulus carefully examined his consciousness and mind, finding no discomfort.

On a moral level, there was no ripple; on Mental Layer, there was no impact; on a soul level, there was no influence.

He had discussed this topic with Orion last year when they were in Knockturn Alley.

He said at the time that he had no opinion on killing and that he was not afraid to kill.

That statement was based on my understanding of myself at the time; it was a judgment.

If someone is actually killed today, it proves that he has a fairly thorough understanding of himself.

Regulus then thought about that mental erosion, the last spell the masked man cast, and that chilling realization.

It doesn't attack the physical body, nor does it attack Magic Power; it only attacks the will to fight and the meaning of existence.

Regulus placed it into the Mental Barrier, Bellatrix gradually lit up during this process.

However, the erosion was not of high enough quality to even break through his Legilimency; he had to actively create an opening for it to enter.

In this situation, there's nothing that can be done except to validate the concept of self- Protection.

But he did sense that Bellatrix needed this confrontation, this Protection.

Going forward, as long as it continues to face similar attacks or actively seeks higher-level confrontations, Bellatrix should be able to be fully illuminated.

This can be considered a gain.

Then he thought of Freya and was almost certain that she had done it on purpose.

Regulus felt that this was definitely going to continue, and this was just the beginning.

A figure flashed through his mind.

Her medium-length, silvery-gray hair was combed back, and her eyes held a sense of knowing everything yet caring nothing at all.

Elegant, dangerous, alluring, and violent.

That image surfaced from the depths of my memory.

Thinking of this, Regulus suddenly sat up and waved his hand at the ceiling for no apparent reason, as if greeting someone.

He waited a moment, then lay down again, shaking his head slightly at himself.

boring.

All of this is just speculation, or even baseless conjecture.

There is no evidence that the blue flame belongs to that the Dark Lord, no evidence that Freya is related to that the Dark Lord, and no evidence that this mission was pre-arranged.

There was another reason why he didn't ask Freya directly.

If his guess is correct, once the truth is revealed, it will be irrefutable.

It's like a story with an open ending suddenly turning into a fixed script, leaving only one option.

He had no choice but to continue down that road.

But if you don't ask, or if he doesn't know anything at all...

What will happen during the process?

Where will the ending lead?

Either way is fine; at least he's in the right.

He can act, he can pretend, and he can say, "I don't know," when necessary.

But then I thought, if it really is that the Dark Lord, what he does, does it make any difference?

Since that the Dark Lord arranged all of this, he must have had his purpose. Regulus cooperates or not will probably not make any difference.

Regulus shook his head slightly; thinking about these things was pointless.

Regardless of who's behind him or what their motives are, all he can do now is keep moving forward, keep getting stronger, and keep accumulating experience.

Let's take it one step at a time.

The only thing Regulus didn't doubt was that he truly deserved to be treated this way.

Dumbledore has already stepped in, guiding him, instructing him, and providing him with resources through the professors.

Voldemort has also entered the fray, using Dark Enlightenment to tempt, corrupt, and win him over.

Even if there were one more of that the Dark Lord, it wouldn't make much difference.

He rolled over and closed his eyes.

sleep.