Night fell.
Rayleigh heard Seamus’s loud snoring, drew his bed curtains, and once again opened the portal to the Diablo world.
Since he had decided on a two-pronged approach, he couldn’t afford to waste a single second.
His father, Director Stark of the London Proctology Hospital, had drilled into him from a young age that time was money, and efficiency was life.
Though when his father said this, he was usually calculating how many hemorrhoid surgeries he could perform in an hour.
The campfire at the Rogue Encampment was as warm as ever.
Akara sat by the flames, her eyes closed in meditation.
Sensing Rayleigh’s return, she didn’t even lift her eyelids.
“The aura of death around you has faded considerably.
It seems you have made the right choice.” “Of course.
I haven’t lived long enough yet,” Rayleigh said with a grin as he slid closer.
“High Priestess Akara, can I ask you something?” “Speak.” “Do you have any…
you know…
spells that make something fall from the sky and go *bam* to crush someone flat?” Rayleigh gestured wildly, his expression exaggerated to the extreme.
Akara finally opened her eyes, looking at him as if he were an idiot.
“No.” “Fine, pretend I didn’t ask,” Rayleigh said grumpily, walking over to an open patch of ground in the corner of the encampment.
No spell?
No problem.
He’d make his own!
He cleared his throat, recalling the incorrect incantations he had “consulted” Professor Flitwick about.
The tiny professor had been quite puzzled at the time as to why a student was so interested in the incorrect pronunciation of spells, but he couldn’t withstand Rayleigh’s persistent pestering and eventually taught him a few of the most typical mispronunciations.
Rayleigh gripped the Short Staff of Frost in his hand.
Though this thing didn’t give any bonus to casting Hogwarts spells, it was still a wand, and one had to respect the sense of ceremony.
He took a deep breath, pointed his wand forward, and roared with all his might.
“Wingardium Leviosar!” The moment the spell left his mouth, a strange, muffled thud echoed in the air.
Immediately after, a massive shadow appeared out of thin air directly above Rayleigh’s head and plummeted straight down with a whistling wind.
It was a plump, sturdy bull!
Its four hooves flailed in the air, and its eyes were filled with confusion, completely unaware of why it was falling from the sky.
“Holy crap!” Rayleigh only had time to curse before several hundred pounds of beef slammed him squarely into the ground.
*Bang!* The entire encampment shook with the impact.
Even the bottle in Akara’s hand slipped out of her grasp.
Charsi the blacksmith was so startled her hammer swung off course, nearly crushing her own foot.
Kashya, the Rogue commander, shuddered, almost snapping the bow in her hand.
Everyone’s gaze converged on that corner.
There sat a massive bull, its two hind legs splayed in a highly undignified posture.
Beneath its rump, only Rayleigh’s two legs were visible, twitching incessantly.
A few seconds later, the bull dissolved into motes of starlight and vanished.
Only a pathetic, human-shaped crater remained.
Rayleigh lay sprawled inside it, a line of small text floating above his head: [Health: 12/62] “Cough, cough, cough…” Rayleigh spat the dirt from his mouth, feeling as though his internal organs had all shifted out of place.
“Are you…
alright?” Akara walked over, her expression exceedingly complex.
“I’m…
okay, won’t die,” Rayleigh struggled to climb out.
“Just feel…
a bit concussed.” Kashya strolled over with her bow slung over her shoulder.
She circled Rayleigh twice, clicking her tongue in wonder.
“What kind of unorthodox garbage are you practicing, kid?
Self-mutilation training?” “It’s called a tactic!
You guys don’t get it!” Rayleigh stubbornly retorted.
“As long as I dodge it, the one getting crushed will be the enemy!” “The problem is, did you dodge it?” Kashya hit the nail on the head.
Rayleigh was instantly silenced.
“Again!” He refused to believe he couldn’t do it.
“Wingardium Leviosar!” Another bull plummeted from the heavens.
Rayleigh had grown smarter this time.
The moment the spell left his lips, he took off running.
But he ran too early.
The bull landed two meters behind him, kicking up a cloud of dust.
It looked around blankly before vanishing.
“Bad timing!” Rayleigh slapped his thigh in annoyance.
“Wingardium Leviosar!” This time, he wanted to wait—to move only when that familiar sense of pressure appeared.
Then, he was smashed into the dirt again.
[Health: 5/62] *Pfft…* Over the next few days, a scenic new attraction appeared at the Rogue Encampment.
Rayleigh indefatigably summoned bulls in the clearing, getting flattened in every posture imaginable.
The NPCs in the camp went from their initial shock to becoming bystanders enjoying the show.
Someone had even started a betting pool, wagering on whether Rayleigh would get crushed or manage to dodge the next one.
“I bet he gets hit.
With that puny body of his, his reflexes won’t cut it,” a Rogue archer said, tossing down a few gold coins.
“I bet on a dodge.
Look at his shifty eyes—he’s definitely plotting something,” another gambler retorted.
Akara simply watched in silence, occasionally offering a word of advice.
“Your mental focus is too scattered when you cast.” “Listen to the sound of the wind.
Everything that falls gives a sign.” Kashya’s guidance was much more direct.
“Why the hell are you dodging?
You’re a mage!
Can’t you use some spell to push it away before it lands on you?” “I…
I don’t know any pushing spells!” “Useless!” After being crushed countless times and chugging over a dozen healing potions, Rayleigh finally got the hang of it.
He stopped relying on his eyes, choosing instead to feel with his body.
When that familiar fluctuation of mana gathered overhead, and when the subtle flow of the air shifted—that was his signal!
“Wingardium Leviosar!” The bull appeared!
The very instant the massive shadow loomed over him, Rayleigh executed a violent side roll.
*Boom!* The heavy impact detonated where he had been standing a split second before.
The kicked-up gravel peppered his back, stinging sharply.
He did it!
Rayleigh leaped up from the ground and pumped his fist in excitement.
A wave of disappointed sighs rippled through the crowd of onlookers.
The house swept the board.
Having mastered the art of dodging, it was time for live combat practice.
Full of confidence, Rayleigh marched out of the encampment and tracked down a lone Fallen in the Blood Moor.
The little red-skinned monster shrieked and charged at him.
Rayleigh remained completely unperturbed and began to chant.
He had to calculate it perfectly: the split second before the Fallen’s blade sliced into his forehead, the bull had to drop precisely onto the monster’s crown.
A second too early, and the monster would run.
A second too late, and he was dead.
“Wingardium Leviosar!” The bull plummeted.
The Fallen froze in its tracks, looking up at the sky with a face full of question marks.
Then, it was crushed into a puddle of mush.
“Beautiful!” Rayleigh snapped his fingers.
Though his timing was still off by a fraction of a second, the results were spectacular!
While Rayleigh was immersed in the joy of pancake-making with various small monsters in the alternate world, classes at Hogwarts proceeded as scheduled.
During the second week’s Charms class, Professor Flitwick was still teaching the first-years the Levitation Charm.
“Two weeks, and only half of the young wizards have mastered the Levitation Charm!
This is truly the worst batch I’ve ever taught!” Professor Flitwick grumbled inwardly.
“Remember, everyone, a swish and flick!
And the incantation must be clear: *Wingardium Leviosa*!” A chaotic chorus of spellcasting and the rustling of feathers filled the classroom.
Ron’s face turned red as he frantically waved his wand at the feather on his desk.
“Wingardium Leviosar!
Ah, no, Wingardium Leviosa!” The feather didn’t even budge.
Beside him, Hermione had already made her feather float in midair.
Unable to watch any longer, she spoke up in the tone of a school disciplinarian.
“You’re saying it wrong.
It’s *Levi-o-sa*, not *Leviosar*.
You need to emphasize the ‘o’.” “You do it then, if you’re so clever!” Ron snapped, throwing his wand down in frustration.
Sitting in the back row, Rayleigh watched the scene and silently shook his head.
*Brother, she’s trying to help you, why are you getting defensive?
You’re a hopeless, terminal case of a dense straight guy.* After class, Ron was still complaining to Harry.
“She’s a nightmare, honestly!
No wonder she hasn’t got any friends!” These words were heard perfectly by Hermione, who happened to be passing by.
Clutching her books, the girl kept her head low and hurried past them, her shoulders trembling slightly.
Rayleigh, walking behind them, witnessed the whole thing and couldn’t help but sigh.
*Ah, the classic trope: push your future wife away now, and you’ll crawl back to her in tears later.* *Wait, no.
I remember Hermione glams up in their fourth year and becomes incredibly gorgeous.* *Should I…?* *Forget it.
Thinking about that now is just a waste of life.
Strength is everything for a man.
Women will only slow down my casting speed!* The next day was the Halloween feast.
The Great Hall was decorated in a spooky style, with candlelit jack-o’-lanterns flickering.
While everyone was enjoying their feast, Professor Quirrell came sprinting in, pale and terrified.
“Troll!
In the dungeons!
There’s a troll!
Thought you ought to know!” With that, his eyes rolled back, and he fainted onto the floor.
The Great Hall instantly erupted into chaos.
Dumbledore let off a loud bang from his wand to restore order, commanding the prefects to lead their respective houses back to their dormitories immediately.
As the crowd began to move, Harry suddenly grabbed Ron.
“Hermione!
She doesn’t know about the troll!” He remembered that Hermione hadn’t shown up all day.
“She’s still in the girls’ bathroom!” Saying this, Harry grabbed Ron, intending to push back through the crowd.
As he passed Rayleigh, he grabbed Rayleigh’s arm as well.
“Rayleigh, you have to help!
You’re much smarter than us!” “What the hell?!” Rayleigh stumbled, completely dumbfounded.
*Bro, you two are going to play the heroes.
Why drag me, an innocent bystander, into this?
I just want to go back to the dorm and sleep!* Watching Harry and Ron’s anxious backs, Rayleigh reluctantly ran after them.
Only one thought occupied his mind: *Are you kidding me?* *Is the grand debut of my “Heavenly Cow-tastrophe” tactic not going to be used on Corpsefire?* *Is this brainless troll really going to be the lucky first recipient?*