Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

He looked at his hands, still wreathed in fire. The form held steady. The drain was minimal. He was closer now—closer to perfecting the domain, to making it his own.

The portal shimmered at the edge of the ridge. He had paid for a full day, but the work was done. He stepped through and returned to the academy.

The attendant blinked. ”You’re back early.”

”Got what I needed.”

Nero walked out, his body tired but his spirit alight. The fire within him hummed, satisfied.

He would train again tomorrow.

[Babe, I’m back. How was your day!] He texted his girlfriend as soon as he stepped out of the pocket world.

It didn’t take too long for her to respond, she must have been waiting for him.

[As usual. I trained, I’m getting closer to the next realm. You should go and rest, Ner!] (Khione)

[I will. You should rest as well. Let’s meet tomorrow evening.]

[I understand. Have a good night. Luv u] (Khione)

[Luv u 2] he texted her, feeling loved and full of energy. He went back to take a bath and order some pizza to eat and immediately went to sleep. Tomorrow await, he must quickly unlock his next law he thought.

The following morning, Nero woke before the sun again. His body was still tired from the day before, but the fire inside him was restless. It wanted more. He dressed in silence, left his room, and walked through the empty academy grounds toward the training hub. The attendant was the same sleepy young man, who raised an eyebrow at Nero’s early appearance.

”Another pocket world?”

”Yes. Something with big monsters. Blue ogres, if you have them.”

The attendant tapped his screen. ”Blue Ogres. They’re tough. Use fire and wind law, but crudely. Medium grade. Same price?”

Nero nodded. ”Full day.”

He paid for it again today, and the portal shimmered.

The world was a volcanic plain, black rock and glowing fissures. Rivers of molten snaked through the ground, casting the landscape in an orange glow. The sky was heavy with ash, and the air smelled of sulfur. In the distance, massive shapes moved—blue-skinned ogres, twice as tall as the ones he had faced before, their bodies rippling with muscle. Some carried clubs wrapped in flame; others had wind swirling around their fists.

Nero walked to the center of the plain. He did not draw his sword. He closed his eyes and called on the fire.

His body transformed. Flame erupted from his skin, controlled, precise. His flesh became living light, his hair a corona of embers. Three rings of fire spun into existence behind his back, etched with symbols that glowed brighter than before. A sash of pure flame coiled around his waist. His eyes opened, red and burning, lotus patterns blooming within them.

He was fire.

The ogres noticed him. A dozen of them turned, their crude faces twisting into snarls. One raised a club wreathed in flame and charged. The wind ogres followed, their movements faster, their fists trailing spirals of air.

Nero did not wait. He launched himself forward, his flame wings spreading, and met the first ogre mid-stride.

The ogre swung its club. Nero raised his arm, and the club passed through his flame-body, leaving no mark. He drove his hand into the ogre’s chest, and fire exploded from his palm, consuming the creature from within. It crumbled to ash, and a wisp of silver light shot into him.

He turned to face the others. They hesitated, then charged together.

The fight was brutal. The ogres were strong, their law use crude but effective. Fire ogres could blast jets of flame that forced Nero to dodge, to weave, to use his wings to stay ahead. Wind ogres created whirlwinds that tried to tear him apart, their gusts hot and sharp. But Nero was fire. He flowed around their attacks, through them, over them.

His sword materialized—a blade of pure elemental flame. He swung, and a crescent of fire cut through three ogres at once. They exploded into ash and wisps. He spun, his wings folding, and dove into the midst of a group of wind ogres. His sword became a blur, each stroke precise, each kill feeding the fire.

He lost count of how many fell. The wisps streamed into him, each one a whisper of strength, a fragment of control. His flame form grew steadier, the drain less noticeable. He could feel the domain settling into his bones, becoming part of him.

A massive ogre, larger than the others, its skin a deeper blue, stepped forward. It carried no weapon. Its hands blazed with fire, and wind howled around its fists. It roared, and the ground shook.

Nero met it head on.

They clashed. The ogre’s fists struck like meteors, each blow carrying both fire and wind. Nero parried with his sword, blocked with his arms of flame, dodged with his wings. The ogre was fast, stronger than the others. But Nero was faster.

He found an opening. The ogre overextended, its right fist swinging wide. Nero stepped inside its guard, his sword driving into its chest. The blade sank deep, and he poured all his fire into the wound.

The ogre’s eyes went wide. It opened its mouth to roar, but only ash came out. It collapsed, dissolving into a torrent of silver wisps that flooded into Nero.

He stood alone on the volcanic plain, his flame form flickering. The remaining ogres had fled. The plain was littered with ash and blackened rock. He looked at his hands, still wreathed in fire. The form held steady. His chest rose and fell, but the exhaustion was less than before.

He had grown. The fire was becoming him.

He dismissed the flame, returning to his human form, and walked toward the portal. The day was not over, but he had accomplished what he came for. His control over the Law of Fire domain had increased. His strength had increased.

And he was a little closer to the answers he sought.

He stepped through the portal, back to the academy, and headed toward the club room. There was work to do, and friends to see. But the fire inside him was quiet now, patient.

Tomorrow, he would train again.