Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

Nero's Inner World

It was an endless expanse—as vast and eternal as the cosmos itself.

A boundless celestial plane where silence reigned, broken only by the distant hum of primordial energy echoing across eternity.

High above, nine stars hung motionless in the void, each radiating with its own unique hue and presence. They weren't merely stars—they were lawful cores, ancient and divine, holding the essence of powers beyond mortal comprehension.

Among them, one star blazed brighter than all the rest—

A furious sphere of crimson light, roaring like a miniature sun.

This was the Red Star, burning brilliantly as though celebrating its release after countless eons in bondage. Its flames danced and licked into the void with untamed joy, a beacon of raw, unchained fire—alive, aware, and waiting.

Not far from it hovered the Golden Star, majestic but restrained.

Six thick black chains coiled around its glowing form like serpents, holding back its power, though one link was already broken, and the remaining six trembled faintly—like seals on the verge of collapse.

The remaining seven stars, each glimmering with different colors—azure, emerald, violet white....—floated like sleeping gods.

But they were silent.

Nine black chains wrapped each of them completely, suffocating their light, their colors dulled into lifelessness.

They hovered like dead stars, dormant and sealed.

And then, far below these celestial titans, was a colossal vortex swirling in slow, ominous circles—

A chasm of mystery, its depths hiding something immense and ancient, something sealed away, watching, waiting.

In this world of stars and silence, Nero's soul drifted—his astral projection form, luminous and human-shaped, yet slightly translucent.

"No time…"

His mind was calm but focused. He turned toward the Red Star and soared toward it without hesitation, a comet streaking through the blackness.

As he approached, the Red Star pulsed—welcoming him, recognizing him as its rightful heir.

He didn't stop.

His soul body pierced through the surface of the Red Star, and instantly, the scenery changed.

He emerged into a world of eternal flame.

Above him, the sky burned gold, a blazing sun pulsing with divine heat.

Below him stretched a never-ending sea of fire, waves of flame swirling like molten tides.

All around him, blazing vortexes spun slowly, shaped like dragons, phoenixes, and beasts made entirely of flame, dancing in an eerie harmony that was both breathtaking and terrifying.

This was the Domain of the Flame Law—the very essence of what the Red Star held.

But Nero didn't hesitate. The inferno around him was intense, yet it couldn't harm him—he was its heir, its chosen vessel.

He ascended upward, his eyes fixed on the blazing golden sun that burned above all else—the core of this world, the source of the Red Star's power.

With each meter he climbed, the heat intensified.

At first, it was like walking through a bonfire.

Then it became like swimming through lava.

And soon, it felt like his very soul was being peeled apart, scorched and charred.

His astral form flickered, warped by the sheer heat, but he gritted his teeth and pressed on—unflinching.

"If I stop now… it's over out there. I need this… even a fraction!"

Finally, he reached the heart—the center of the golden sun.

The light was so blinding it nearly erased his form. The pressure was so heavy it crushed space and soul alike.

"Lend me your strength!" Nero cried, voice raw and honest.

"Let me inherit even a piece of you!"

His words weren't a command—they were a plea.

The sun pulsed.

And then—it responded.

With a thunderous roar that shook the very world, half of the golden core surged forward, a river of divine flame crashing into Nero's astral form like a tidal wave.

AAGGHHHH—!!

He screamed.

The pain was indescribable.

It wasn't physical—it was soul-deep, like being burned alive across every layer of existence.

His form twisted, fragmented, tried to pull away—but he didn't allow it.

He clung to the power, forcing it into himself.

And within that agony, something stirred—

Something ancient. Something primal. Something his.

A deep, slumbering instinct awakened, a roar that had been waiting for this moment.

A Dragon's Will.

And then—he vanished.

°°°

Back in the Real World…

The powerful spell—Water Deluge—was closing in.

From all directions, an apocalyptic cascade of water surged with godlike fury, forming an ocean-sized vortex meant to erase Nero from existence. The air roared as waves collided with one another midair, twisting into serpentine torrents that swallowed trees, stone, and sky.

And then—

Time stopped.

Not a metaphor.

Literally.

Raindrops froze midfall. The air itself went quiet. The colors dimmed, as though the world had paused to witness the awakening of something far beyond it.

A presence began to stir—something ancient, something not of this world.

Reality cracked at the edges like fragile glass.

And then—

The change began.

Nero's body, once battered and bloodied beyond recognition, began to mend.

Veins lit up under his skin like rivers of magma. Wounds sealed. Bone snapped back into place. Torn muscles knotted together like threads weaving a masterpiece of war.

His body grew—stretching and bulking in an instant, rising to a towering 2.15 meters, every movement releasing a low, bassy hum, like a dormant engine finally revving to life.

His dark blue hair lengthened and ignited, turning a brilliant crimson, strands flowing like strands of molten lava.

Fangs peeked beneath his lips.

Claws sharpened at his fingertips and toes.

His limbs were wrapped in dark crimson scales, gleaming like obsidian dipped in sunlight.

Two curved horns—illusionary yet tangible, burning gold—sprouted from his forehead, flickering like celestial fire.

His eyes snapped open—slitted, reptilian, a pure, red—holding the terrifying majesty of a primeval predator.

Then—his tattoo.

Glowing azure blue, the mark etched into his back to his neck—the Mark of the Flame Dragon—flared to life, writhing with divine heat, as though it had become sentient for a brief second.

Time resumed.

But it was not the same world anymore.

The atmosphere warped. The very pocket dimension trembled, groaning under the weight of the incomprehensible pressure now emanating from Nero.

Cracks spidered through space.

Gravity distorted.

Every creature—man, beast, or monster—fell to their knees, whether near or far, eyes wide with instinctual terror. Even the strongest among them felt it—a pulse, a flare of power that rippled into the outer world.

All across continents, powerful beings flinched in unison, their eyes turning skyward, their minds shaken.

"What... was that just now?"

"Something... woke up."

But as quickly as it came—it vanished.

Like a divine beast dipping its toe into the mortal realm before retreating.

''!!!"

The demonized mage's heart dropped.

What stood before him was no longer a mere promising Blue Knight.

It was a god draped in a dragon's skin.

His giant body, empowered by forbidden spells and corrupted strength, now felt insignificant. He was being suppressed in everything.

He shook violently—eyes bulging, instincts screaming.

Even their leader—Ourouboros—never emitted such pressure.

Nero, calm yet ablaze with unfathomable power, clenched his fists.

He had only two seconds in this state.

"So this is… the strength I'll wield one day?"

"Even a fraction of it… is this overwhelming."

He turned his gaze to the wall of water crashing toward him like a divine punishment.

With a single light tap of his foot, the earth beneath shattered like fragile glass.

Then, softly, almost lazily, he said—

"Be gone."

The world ignited.

Golden flame erupted from his body in every direction—

Not fire. Annihilation.

Like the sun itself had taken mortal form and chosen to erase the world.

The tidal wave of water met that flame—and it didn't sizzle, didn't steam.

It was simply… erased.

Fifteen kilometers of reality vanished in a dome of golden fire.

The skies tore open.

The clouds parted as though afraid.

And the wind vanished altogether.

At the very edge of the destruction stood the demonized mage—frozen in place.

His monstrous frame trembled like a leaf caught in a typhoon.

His eyes saw death—not metaphorical, but absolute, primal, inescapable death.

Nero moved.

A single step—

And he appeared in front of the mage.

Too fast to follow. Too impossible to counter.

A casual punch, light and loose.

But the result—

The upper half of the mage's body vanished.

No explosion. No sound.

Just pure erasure.

The sky behind the impact turned white, as if a second sun had bloomed in the heavens.

The remaining body turned to ash before it hit the ground.

Then it ended.

Second two expired.

The transformation collapsed.

Nero's body gave out—violently.

His skin ruptured in multiple places, blood geysering like a fountain.

Bones cracked. Muscles snapped.

He hit the ground face-first, body twitching, paralyzed, completely broken.

"Gahhh... ahhh..."

The pain was blinding, every nerve screaming.

He couldn't lift a finger. Couldn't blink.

And yet—he was smiling.

A cracked, satisfied grin.

Because he had survived.

And for the first time—he had seen the path ahead.

A glimpse into what he could truly become.

"So that's… what lies within me… I have the feeling it's only a fraction of it."

Then his world faded to black.