Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

Silence fell over the training ground as Nero lay motionless on the ground, his body twitching.

Then, an uproar arose.

”Wow! Did you see that? Lord Barak used a weapon clad in lightning.”

”Yes, I saw it. To think he is already capable of cladding his weapon with lightning.”

”He did it less than two years after receiving his blessings. He is so talented; his future is limitless.”

”He is a genius, a genius, I tell you.”

While people marveled at what he had done, the person in question was not happy. In contrast, he wore a troubled expression on his face. Something was not right; he was sure that he had clad his wooden sword with lightning because he was angry at Nero’s dirty trick. He hadn’t planned to use this technique, as he had only recently become able to do it. It was not yet perfect, and he was saving it for the school entrance tests next month. Still, even if it was imperfect, it could vanish like a candle flickering in a storm. Something had happened—something he didn’t understand. Definitely, before reaching Nero, the lightning had vanished.

Although he remembered Nero’s weapon passing his own before it happened, he discarded the absurd thought that he was responsible, as there was no way that could be the case. He was utterly inutile; without any trace of primordial energy inside him, he couldn’t have done it. Shaking his head, Barak thought maybe it was just Nero’s luck, as the technique was unstable.

”Bring him back, and don’t forget to throw a low-level potion at him,” he ordered his subordinates to drag Nero away.

°°°°

Two hours later, in the annex building, he woke up, the bed creaking as he set his foot down. His body ached all over, and he had trouble breathing; he guessed a few of his ribs must be broken. Pain coursed through him as he stood, wobbling and nearly falling face-first, but he managed to regain his balance. Glancing sideways, he spotted a small bottle containing a light red liquid—a low-level healing potion.

He took it with difficulty and headed toward the bathroom. Although it was a low-level potion, he was grateful for it, as he planned to use it to strengthen himself. Bathing in water infused with a healing potion helped bolster his muscles and toughen his bones, which was how he managed to endure their beatings.

Upon arriving in the bathroom, he filled the tub with water, added a few normal herbs for recovery, and emptied the contents of the bottle into it. The water bubbled momentarily. Discarding his clothes, he admired his body, which was marred with countless scars from years of bullying. There were black spots scattered across his stomach where he had taken the two blows, and the tattoo running across his upper body to his neck remained a mystery to him. Shaking his head, he moved on.

”Siii~”

He grimaced as his body slowly submerged into the bathtub filled with the medicinal herbs and healing potion. Various ingredients mixed together and seeped into his body, repairing damaged muscles and making them stronger. His natural healing ability was exceptional, preventing him from wasting the medicinal bath.

As he enjoyed the soak, his mind naturally drifted back to the beating. Just before losing consciousness, he was sure he had seen the lines again, and guided by impulse, he had shattered the focal point connecting them all. Something had snapped when he struck with his sword, and then he felt empty, utterly drained of strength. That was why he lost consciousness, not because of the blow. If he remembered correctly, the lightning around Barak’s weapon had vanished.

”What was that?” he mumbled, trying to comprehend what had happened. He calmly analyzed the entire fight, reviewing every detail until he arrived at a certain conclusion—a conjecture, if you will.

”My eyes enabled me to temporarily sever the connection between the weapon and the Law of Lightning.”

As he reached this conclusion, he shuddered and rose from the bathtub, splashing water everywhere.

”No way! Did my eyes really have that ability? The ability to cancel a Law?”

He looked into the mirror and saw the reflection of his eyes—ominous red with something swirling within them. For the first time, he felt a genuine affection for his eyes. A strong desire ignited within him, stronger than before. He must uncover his uniqueness; only by fully understanding himself could he live freely and happily, just as his mother had wished.

For a long time, he had sought to learn about his situation, but the information available to him was limited. No one would allow a cursed child into the great family library. He had snuck into various small libraries on the collateral side and even ventured into town, but found nothing related to his circumstances. When his mother was alive, she had also sought answers from the grand library, but he believed she had found nothing.

After all those failures, he decided to head to the academy, the largest institution where all races could attend. He believed they would have information about someone with a situation similar to his, or at the very least, documents that could provide insights into who he really was.

”It is decided: I must do everything to be accepted into Glory Academy next month. There, I can find the answers—whether through books or the pressure from other students. I’m certain I can learn more about myself if I go there.” He sank back into the bathtub, lost in thought.

For now, he would keep his discovery a secret; otherwise, endless trouble awaited him. This ability was not yet certain, and even if it were confirmed to be true, he must not recklessly display it—not until he could truly protect himself.

”Well, that guy is a genius indeed. To think he would reach the state of manifestation just a few months after creating his core. I must work hard; I must strengthen my physique for the coming month.” That was his final conclusion. He closed his eyes, relishing the bath in silence, listening to the rhythm of his own heartbeat.