Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

Roughly thirty minutes later, Nero emerged onto a narrow stretch of forest where the trees thinned and the ground began to slope. A steep ravine yawned to his right, its edge crumbling with brittle stone. The air here was drier, quieter—too quiet.

He sensed them before he saw them thanks to his Divine Sense.

Three orcs.

Larger than the last group, but not just in size. Their posture was different—calculated, not careless. They were crouched in the underbrush, watching, waiting. One held a notched spear, another gripped twin hand axes, and the third—a brute wrapped in scraps of bone-plated armor—wielded a heavy hook-blade nearly as long as Nero’s body.

These ones weren’t mutated one but they’re stronger than most orcs he encountered thus far.

They were hunters.

And they’d just found a target.

’’Let’s play into their game!”

They sprang the trap as he approached the ravine’s edge.

The spear flew first—silent, fast. Nero twisted just enough for it to graze his shoulder, the tip slicing through leather and drawing a small line of blood. No sooner had he turned than the axe-wielder was already in motion, rushing him from the side, weapons spinning with reckless speed.

Behind him, the third orc—larger than the rest—moved to cut off his escape, forcing him toward the cliff.

They were trying to drive him off the edge.

He didn’t let them.

He didn’t retreat.

He attacked.

The axe came for his head.

Nero ducked low, the twin blades passing overhead in a blur of iron. Heat pulsed in his blood. His body ached from earlier wounds, but he forced the pain down—compressed it into fuel.

He shoved one hand toward the ground.

Prana surged forth!

Mysterious symbols flared beneath his palm—glowing red, sharp like molten brands—and stabbed into the soil like fangs.

A heartbeat later—

The earth exploded.

Boom!

A pillar of fire erupted from below, engulfing the three orcs in a sudden, vicious burst of flame. The force of it blasted Nero backward, skidding across the dirt, the heat licking his back even as he landed in a crouch.

The air howled. Screams followed.

But they didn’t die instantly.

These orcs were tougher. And angrier.

One of the axe-wielders came stumbling out of the inferno, skin blackened, one eye boiling in its socket—but he kept moving.

Flames clung to his body like a second skin, but the orc roared and lunged.

CRACK!

Their weapons clashed. Nero blocked with his blade, but the impact forced him back a couple of steps, these monsters were really strong.

He responded with a slash across the chest, fire trailing the arc of his sword like a whip.

The orc’s body erupted in a chain of explosions—miniature pulses of searing heat that tore through its torso. It dropped mid-charge, writhing, then fell silent.

Another orc came from behind—silent and fast. The big one.

Too close.

Nero turned, but too slowly.

WHAM.

The hook-blade smashed into his ribs.

He felt the breath leave his lungs. His world tilted sideways as he hit the ground hard, ribs screaming. The taste of iron filled his mouth. He rolled just as the blade slammed down again—splitting the earth where his skull had been seconds before.

Dirt and sparks rained down.

Nero’s eyes flared.

No hesitation.

He planted a boot on the orc’s shin and shoved upward, twisting to his feet in one fluid motion.

His blade flashed.

Fire surged from the hilt to the tip, the heat now uncontained, wild.

He plunged the sword directly into the brute’s abdomen, deep enough that it struck bone—and then, with his free hand, he clenched the burning core of the Law of Fire.

”Burn,” he whispered—not aloud, but into the world itself.

The sword detonated.

A vertical plume of fire burst from the orc’s back, launching the creature into the air like a rag doll, twisting and screaming as it split apart mid-air and crashed in smoking fragments beside a tree.

Only one remained—the spear-thrower, burned, limping, trying to flee.

Nero staggered forward.

His side throbbed. His lungs burned.

He didn’t care.

He raised his blade.

A trail of flame rippled down its length—then burst outward.

He swung.

The arc of fire swept across the clearing like a scythe of molten light, carving a crescent into the trees beyond. The blast hit the fleeing orc squarely in the back, lifting him off his feet. He hit the ground smoldering, limbs curled inward like paper in a furnace.

Then, at last—silence.

Ash drifted on the breeze. The earth sizzled beneath Nero’s feet. The smell of scorched blood and vaporized flesh hung in the air.

He stood in the aftermath, slightly wounded but it was an injury that would recover soon.

His body shook from the effort, from the backlash of power barely contained.

But his grip on the sword never faltered.

Three more down.

Time to find his next kill.

Nero kept moving. He didn’t pause to rest. His injuries have stopped bleeding and he was recovering.

Two more orcs ambushed him near the cliff edge. They leapt from above, thinking to overpower him with brute force.

They never touched him because there were weaker than the previous ones.

He spun, slashing the air—his sword released a circular wave of heat so intense it liquefied the stone around them.

They collapsed in silence. Bones glowing orange, like sun-bleached coals.

This made it his ninth kill.

’’I shall make it ten then.’’ Nero’s eyes shone.

His tenth kill came deep in the woods. Another tall and Smarter orc. The orc was wearing a bone-crafted helmet and dragging what appeared to be a cursed glaive across the forest floor.

Nero didn’t sneak up on him.

He walked straight into view.

No words. No threats.

Just a flash of light—and they were engaged.

Blades clashed. Trees shattered. Fire met iron, over and over again. Sparks turned to embers. Embers turned to firestorms. The orc roared and swung his glaive with enough force to split rock—but Nero matched him blow for blow.

Then—an opening.

Nero ducked low, pressed a flaming palm to the orc’s abdomen, and unleashed a concentrated inferno point-blank.

The orc’s entire torso burst into flame.

Its body staggered. Cracked. Collapsed.

Final score: [561 Points]

Strangely both their score updated at the same time.

Without needing to speak, they both moved to reunite. They were still tied at the same place with no clear winner. Tomorrow they would leave when evening would come.