Everyone Playing It Safe Together

Regulus took a step forward, and when he landed, he was already standing in front of the ruins.

He glanced first at the Prewett brothers.

A few meters behind Moody, Fabian sat against a collapsed stone wall, while Gideon squatted beside him.

The two men were covered in dust and grime from head to toe, looking as if they had been pulled out of a fireplace chimney.

There was no visible damage on the outside. I scanned the Magic Power from a distance earlier; it was disordered and unstable, but there was no injury.

In fact, the two brothers were in better condition before he rescued them.

They had fought with Dolohov's men and suffered considerable losses, being trapped for a while, but they were not seriously injured.

His actions left the two of them completely disoriented, and their Magic Core swayed.

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Being surrounded by the enemy was fine, but being bombed by their own people made them weak.

He couldn't help it; the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

When it comes to saving lives, the process isn't important, as long as the result is right.

Perhaps this is the Death Eaters ' strategy: not to kill them outright, but to hold them back, trap them, and wait for the Order of the Phoenix to come to their rescue, then launch an even bigger attack.

It's also possible that neither side has reached the point of no return and is holding back.

Pruitt, after all, Sacred Twenty-Eight, Fabian and Gideon are prominent figures in the Pure-blood Circle.

The Pure-blood Circle is only so big. People who are fighting each other on the battlefield today may be nodding to each other while holding wine glasses in a Banquet Hall of a manor next month.

There's an unspoken understanding among nobles: leave room for maneuver in all matters, so that you can meet again in the future.

Moreover, the Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters haven't completely broken ties yet; both sides are maintaining a thin veneer of civility, and the Death Eaters won't immediately try to kill someone.

Encircle but don't kill; surround but don't annihilate. Keep them as bargaining chips or bait; after all, the living are more useful than the dead.

The Death Eaters controlled the intensity of the conflict, taking people but not killing them, leaving themselves room to maneuver.

Needless to say, Order of the Phoenix needs Dumbledore time to maintain pressure without escalating the situation.

If things continue as they are, the Prewett brothers will eventually die at the hands of Dolohov.

But not today. Today, both sides are exercising restraint. The Death Eaters haven't gone all out, and Dumbledore isn't allowing anyone to kill.

The Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters are currently in a state of limbo, with neither side wanting to be the first to push things to the extreme.

Regulus withdrew his gaze and turned his attention to the Dark Lord opposite him.

Antonin Dolohov, one of Voldemort's earliest associates.

He was around fifty years old, with a pale, long face, high cheekbones, a pointed chin, and dark, almost black pupils. His dark hair was pulled back and was slightly disheveled by the blast wave.

That face was not a pleasant one to begin with; it was distorted, cold, and its eyes, like snakes, stared intently at people.

Tall and broad-shouldered, he stood before the ruins, his imposing presence barely diminished despite his tattered robes and blood-stained clothes.

A taciturn type, a seasoned Death Eaters, a torture enthusiast, a top duelist, a master of silent Magic, and a sadist, but he seems quite honest now.

As Regulus sized him up, Dolohov was also sizing up Regulus.

Long, silver-white hair, amber vertical pupils, a rugged jawline, and the Magic Power emanating from his body was so intense it seemed to distort the air itself.

A completely unfamiliar face, in his early twenties.

He couldn't name the explosive Magic used; it had been standing over a hundred meters away just moments before, and now it was right in front of him.

In every respect, this person is not someone to be trifled with.

He glanced quickly in Moody's direction.

Moody remained standing at the edge of the battlefield, his wand hanging at his side, his grey-blue eyes fixed on this side, neither moving forward nor backward.

Then he turned his gaze back to the young wizard with white hair and vertical pupils.

The situation was dire. Of the ten of them, less than half were still standing. Three were buried under rubble, two were lying on the ground coughing up blood, and one was standing but completely dazed.

There are four on the other side: Moody is an old rival, the Prewett brothers are still in decent form, and then there's this white-haired guy who just blew up the entire Castle with that inexplicable spell.

He had never seen anyone use that level of Magic before. If the other party attacked directly from the start, they would all be wiped out today.

But the other person didn't move; they just stood there, watching him through the pile of rubble, their expression calm, neither provoking nor Spellcasting.

Dolohov understood; the other person was also restraining himself, just like him.

He sneered inwardly, thinking, "A bunch of people who only know how to wait."

But his face remained expressionless; his snake-like eyes were fixed on the white-haired wizard opposite him, his mind racing.

We cannot fight to the death.

If it's just Moody in good condition, I could try to take him down, but with this white-haired guy on top of him, the two of them together would definitely be finished.

He wasn't at his peak either; the injuries from the explosion were still churning in his chest, and every breath he took pulled at the muscles on his ribs, causing pain.

You can't just run away.

Ten people were wiped out by a single Magic; was the commander the first to Apparition?

How am I supposed to explain this to my the Master when I get back?

"The enemy has Dumbledore, and we are outnumbered. My subordinates judge that we cannot win and have ordered a retreat."

This was an organized retreat, which can be explained, but the other side didn't have Dumbledore.

"The Exploding Charm stunned us, and I abandoned my men and ran away."

This is defeat. The Master will make him kneel on the ground and repeat the sentence, and then give him a Cruciatus Curse.

Therefore, we must fight a battle before retreating, or at least fight until we are defeated and have to retreat, so that we can explain ourselves when we return.

The optimal solution is to stabilize the situation, have the subordinates dig out the person, administer medication to restore their health, and then retreat collectively, keeping casualties within a manageable range.

The other side is probably happy to see this, as neither the Order of the Phoenix nor the Death Eaters want to wage a full-scale war at this stage.

Dolohov turned his head and gestured to the Death Eaters behind him who was still standing but had a blank stare. He drew his finger towards the pile of rubble and then tapped it on the ground.

The man froze for a moment, then realized what was happening, staggered around, and walked deeper into the ruins to begin digging.

Dolohov took two steps forward, blocking his subordinates' path, raised his wand, its tip glowing with a purple light, his movements slow and deliberate.

Regulus's lips curled into a slight smile when he saw the purple light.

Dolohov's symbol, Purple Flame Spell, is cast silently and deals extremely heavy damage. In the future, a little girl was hit by this spell and it took her half a year to recover.

Sure enough, everyone clung to each other, and no one went all out.

Dolohov's reaction was exactly what he expected, and he cooperated quite well.

Both sides are maintaining a tacit understanding: the Death Eaters cannot simply run away, and the Order of the Phoenix does not want to escalate the situation.

Let's have a fight, a fight where both sides clash, both suffer losses, Death Eaters retreat in an organized manner.

Regulus had no objection to the arrangement; Dumbledore had requested no upgrades, Moody was squatting nearby watching over them—he was just doing his own thing.

But this person is a rather important character; he's Voldemort's torture expert.

He was absolutely loyal to Voldemort, refused to betray him, refused to confess his sins, and would rather go to Azkaban than expose his comrades.

His heart was pure darkness, devoid of family warmth, friends, and vulnerabilities; he lived only for Dark Arts, for Voldemort, and for killing.

Come to think of it, once the Black family officially takes center stage, he might still have to deal with this person.

Same camp, same table, Voldemort's right-hand man and the heir of Pureblood families.

Dolohov probably never dreamed that the white-haired wizard who blew up his stronghold would sit across from him a few years later, wearing the black robes of the Black family.

Killing him wouldn't be necessary, but leaving a lasting impression would be acceptable.

The golden light flickered in his amber vertical pupils, and the curve of his lips turned dangerous.

Dolohov made the first move, unleashing a fist-sized purple fireball from the tip of his staff. The fireball shot straight towards him with a trail of flame, its trajectory straight and its speed slow.

Regulus dodged to the side, the purple fireball grazing his shoulder before crashing into the withered grass behind him, exploding into a pool of purple fire.

Flames spread along the ground, burning continuously, their purple light casting flickering shadows on the ruins.

Regulus retaliated, flicking his wand lightly, Confringo as an orange-red orb blasted back directly.

Dolohov ducked to avoid the attack, and at the same time, a deep red light shot straight at him.

Regulus unleashed the Reducto, striking the trajectory of the incantation. The two Magic Power collided in mid-air, blasting out a ring of spreading dust.

The exchange of fire continued for several rounds at a fast pace.

Dolohov's incantation involved no unnecessary movements; it was all Nonverbal Spellcasting.

The Purple Flame Spell was mixed with several indistinct Dark Arts, but he never moved forward, maintaining his distance and slowly retreating towards the pile of rubble while fighting.

Occasionally, he would turn his head and glance behind him. His men were still digging people out, and the rubble was being moved aside piece by piece by Magic, revealing the arms and legs that were being crushed underneath.

Regulus took a step forward, Dolohov took a step back.

Regulus moved to the left, Dolohov immediately adjusted his position, always facing the white-haired wizard.

Another round of intense gunfights.

Dolohov fired two purple flames in quick succession, one to restrain the enemy from the front and the other to launch a surprise attack from the side.

Regulus deflected the frontal attack with his Shield Charm and the side attack with his Explosive Impact, taking a half-step forward.

Dolohov has withdrawn again.

Regulus did not step forward again, but stood still, his wand hanging down, his posture relaxed.

Give him a chance to catch his breath.

Dolohov also stopped, and they looked at each other across the ganley.

Regulus remained calm, Dolohov was expressionless, and then the next round of gunfights began.

Behind Moody, the Prewett brothers sat at the foot of the stone wall, Fabian was looking down at the scrapes on his arm, and Gideon's self-glow flickered between the white-haired wizard and Dolohov.

Moody stood at the edge of the battlefield the entire time, his wand hanging at his side, his grey-blue eyes following the two without moving.

A Death Eaters had crawled out of the rubble looked up toward the battlefield and met Moody's gaze.

His grey-blue eyes were fixed on his face, cold and indifferent.

The Death Eaters quickly averted his gaze, lowered his head, and continued to feign death while lying in the rubble.

Moody ignored him.

Albus said he wouldn't upgrade, Geralt was controlling the pace, and Dolohov was clearly stalling for time to allow his men to recover. Both sides had their own agendas, but the outcome was already decided; it was just a matter of when the show would end.

His job was simply to stand there and prevent any of Dolohov's men from having any other ideas.

In the next round of attacks, Regulus increased his intensity.

The Confringo blasted towards Dolohov's feet, the shockwave sending him stumbling back several steps, his heels slipping on the rubble.

The Reducto followed closely, striking the ground two meters in front of him, sending dirt flying up and covering his face in dust.

Dolohov wiped his face with his sleeve, the murderous intent in his dark eyes deepening.

But he held back, glancing at it again out of the corner of his eye.

Two people have been dug out from under the rubble. They are being given medicine by the broken wall and are already able to sit up. The two who were lying on the ground coughing up blood have also been dragged together and medicine bottles are being stuffed into their mouths.

That's about it.

The last Death Eaters had been buried was pulled out, given a drug, and managed to stand up.

All three who were dug out, plus the two who coughed up blood and the one who was confused, have now basically regained their ability to move.

Dolohov flicked his wand, unleashing three consecutive bursts of purple flame that forced Regulus back a step.

Then, he poked the tip of his staff at his feet, and a cloud of black smoke exploded, the dense smoke spreading rapidly and obscuring the entire area in front of the ruins.

A series of Apparition sounds came from within the black smoke: thud, thud, thud.

The sounds varied in distance, some were crisp and clear, others were drawn out.

At the edge of the black smoke, Dolohov stood at the back, making sure all his men had left, then glanced at Regulus through the smoke.

His pale, distorted face was expressionless, and his dark eyes gleamed coldly in the afterglow of the purple flames.

I didn't say anything harsh, I just watched and remembered this face.

White hair, vertical pupils, scorching Magic Power, and a combination Magic capable of unleashing devastating explosions.

He'll recognize you the next time you meet.

Regulus watched as that gaze pierced through the smoke, cold, fierce, sinister, like a snake.

That's impolite.

A grin spread across his face.

Just as Dolohov raised his arm, his wand tracing the Apparition, his body twisted slightly.

The next instant, it appeared in front of Dolohov.

Apply to the face in one step.

(And there's more!)