Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

The morning of the competition dawned bright and clear, the sun casting golden light across the academy grounds. The air was electric with anticipation, the buzz of excitement palpable among the cadets gathered in the main square. Banners fluttered in the breeze, and a large platform had been erected at the center, where the headmaster and several instructors stood, their expressions stern and imposing.

The interclass competition had finally arrived.

Nero stood among the crowd, his gaze sweeping over the sea of faces. Cadets from every class, from the lowest to their elite S-class, were present. They were all here for the same reason: to prove themselves, to earn glory, to climb the ranks. The competition was simple in its rules, brutal in its execution.

Everyone started with zero points. The goal was to hunt powerful monsters in a vast pocket world, killing them to earn points. The higher the points, the higher the rank. Temporary teams could be formed, but each team had to consist of one knight and one mage. The golden bracelet on each cadet’s wrist would record their points and allow communication with up to five pre-registered contacts.

Nero touched his bracelet, a simple band of polished gold that hummed faintly with magical energy. He had already registered Khione, Lux, Adam, and Blake. He had also registered Elreth and Azalea, a strategic move that he hoped would pay off.

Khione stood beside him, her expression calm, her ice-blue eyes scanning the crowd. She had registered Nero, Elreth, and Azalea. Their eyes met briefly, a silent communication passing between them.

Lux was nearby, his silver hair catching the light, his usual grin firmly in place. Adam stood with his arms crossed, his dwarven frame solid and imposing. Blake was yawning, looking as if he had just woken up.

Elreth and Azalea stood apart, their eyes blazing with competitive fire. They had registered each other, and their gazes flickered toward Khione, a mixture of curiosity and challenge in their eyes.

The headmaster stepped forward, his voice booming across the square.

”Cadets! The time has come. The competition will last one week. You will be teleported into the pocket world at random locations. Use your wits, your strength, and your alliances to survive and earn points. Remember, the champion of the first year earns the right to challenge a senior cadet of their choosing. Prove yourselves worthy.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd. The stakes were high. The reward was glory.

The headmaster raised his hand, and the air around them began to shimmer. A portal opened, a swirling vortex of light and energy. The cadets began to step forward, one by one, disappearing into the portal.

Nero felt a hand on his arm. Khione was looking at him, her expression serious. ”Stay safe.”

”You too,” he replied. ”We’ll find each other.”

She nodded, and they stepped through the portal together.

The world that unfolded around him was vast and wild. Nero stood in a dense forest, the trees towering above him, their leaves a deep, vibrant green. The air was thick with prana, rich and potent. In the distance, he could hear the roar of monsters, the clash of battle.

He glanced at his bracelet. His points were still zero. He needed to hunt.

He moved forward, his sword drawn, his senses alert. The forest was alive with danger, but he was ready.

The first day of the competition had begun. The week ahead would be brutal, but Nero was determined to emerge victorious. He would win the competition, earn the right to challenge her, chance to crush Elysia Raizen, and take another step toward his goal.

The storm was coming. But he was ready to face it because this time it was its initiator.

°°°

The world spun around her, a blur of light and color, and then Khione felt solid ground beneath her feet. She blinked, her senses adjusting to the sudden shift in environment. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of earth and blood. She stood in the middle of a crude settlement, surrounded by rough-hewn huts and roaring fires.

Twenty-five blue orcs. They were massive, their bodies covered in thick, scarred skin, their eyes burning with a dim, bestial intelligence. They had been in the middle of their daily routines—some sharpening weapons, others cooking meat over open flames. They froze as she appeared, their primitive minds struggling to process the sudden intrusion.

Khione’s expression remained utterly emotionless. She had expected this. The teleportation was random, and appearing in the middle of a monster settlement was a risk every cadet knew and accepted. This was a military academy. They trained soldiers to face the horrors of the real world. There was no mercy, no second chances.

The orcs recovered from their shock. A guttural roar erupted from the largest of them, a massive brute with a scarred face and a jagged axe. The others joined in, their voices rising in a cacophony of rage and hunger. They charged.

Khione raised her small, exquisite wand. She pointed it at the sky, her movements fluid, unhurried. Her voice was calm, devoid of emotion, as she spoke the incantation.

”Cocytus.”

The word hung in the air, cold and final. She siphoned a fraction of her prana, mixing it with the ambient energy that saturated the pocket world. The result was immediate and devastating.

White mist erupted from her wand, spreading outward at an astonishing speed. It was not ordinary mist. It was the essence of absolute cold, the breath of the frozen underworld. It rolled across the settlement, touching everything in its path. The fires were extinguished, their flames snuffed out as if they had never existed. The huts were coated in a layer of frost, their crude structures groaning under the sudden weight of ice.

The orcs froze mid-charge. Their roars were cut short, their bodies encased in crystalline ice. Their expressions were frozen in moments of rage and terror, their muscles locked in place. They stood like grotesque statues, their forms preserved in the moment of their death. ℯ

Khione lowered her wand. The white mist dissipated, revealing the full extent of her spell. The settlement was a frozen wasteland, silent and still. Twenty-five blue orcs, now twenty-five ice sculptures.

She raised her hand and snapped her fingers.

The sound was soft, almost delicate, but the effect was cataclysmic. The ice sculptures shattered, exploding into a thousand glittering fragments. The orcs crumbled, their bodies reduced to shards of frozen flesh and bone. The ground beneath them was covered in a fine layer of frost, the only evidence that they had ever existed.

Khione glanced at her golden bracelet. The numbers flickered, then settled. Seventy-five points. Three points per orc. She had started with a bang.

She did not linger. The pocket world was vast, and there were countless monsters to hunt. She stepped over the frozen remains of the orcs and marched deeper into the forest, her wand held loosely at her side.