Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

He noticed Barak’s presence the moment he stepped into the garden, his sanctuary. He waited until Barak came closer, using the same lines he loved to employ. He had memorized the sound of Barak’s steps, the way he walked, and his scent.

”Eh, your abomination, Lord Barak, is calling you. Follow me immediately,” Barak said.

Upon hearing him speak as if he were unworthy of his time, he finally opened his eyes. However, instead of seeing a clear silhouette, he perceived tangled lines. He shook his head; his eyes had been strange since he was young. Sometimes, they revealed odd visions like this one, and he had never found a proper explanation for the phenomenon. That was why he disliked opening them too often—they were burdensome and easily fatigued him. Fortunately, this phenomenon didn’t occur all the time; it was sporadic.

He stood up, dusting himself off as he followed the young man. His vision gradually returned to normal, allowing him to register Barak’s features. Knowing the purpose of the call, he couldn’t help but sigh—another beating disguised as a progress check. He was fully aware that he lacked a core and was not blessed. To others, he was as ordinary as the word itself, except for his slightly robust physique and unusual eyes. Perhaps ”unique” was a more fitting term, but he had yet to explore this uniqueness and was currently nothing.

His half-brother sought to bully him, and nobody would object because no one cared about a cursed child. Labeled a cursed being for being different and unable to do what others could, he felt discarded by all. Not that he cared about their opinions; nor did he harbor resentment. There had been a time when he resented them and the world, but that was years ago. He had matured and evolved beyond his past self. Now, he lived for himself, for the mother who had given him life, named him, and loved him until her death. He had nothing to prove to anyone—only to himself. He needed to understand what set him apart from others, why he possessed these unique traits. If, in the process of self-discovery, he accomplished things people never expected of him, and they thought, ”Ah, I did all of this to prove them wrong,” then so be it. Everyone had their opinions; regardless of the reason, people would twist things to fit their narratives, so there was no need for clarification.

Lost in his thoughts, he and Lucca arrived at the training ground, where the atmosphere shifted the moment they entered, as everyone prepared to witness a grand spectacle.

The star of the show was seated in meditation, likely engaged in a breathing exercise. At least he was diligent. If asked about his feelings toward Barak, he would say he felt none—absolutely none. The same applied to any member of this family; they regarded him as nothing more than an eyesore, so why waste time on unproductive emotions? He truly despised that.

Standing before Barak, who sensed his presence but continued to act as if he hadn’t, he said, ”I’m here at your call.”

A brief statement that held no familiarity.

Finally, Barak’s eyes snapped open, glaring at him with his pure golden gaze as he stood up.

”I called you to see your progress. Maybe, by some miracle, you’ve awakened,” he added with a hint of mockery, prompting laughter from the other kids. Naturally, he showed no response, which only served to crack the smile on Barak’s face.

Someone hurled a wooden sword at him with enough force to sting his hands, but his eyes perceived the flying sword in slow motion—another strange effect of his vision. He rotated his hands to diminish the sword’s momentum before firmly grasping it with both hands, standing opposite Barak.

”Tch!”

Having failed his petty trick, the boy clicked his tongue and respectfully handed Barak another wooden sword.

Barak was the first to attack as they faced off. He launched himself forward with incredible speed, lightning crackling around his feet to enhance his velocity. In an instant, he was before him. While his eyes perceived Barak slowly, his body struggled to keep pace; his brain hadn’t signaled him to move yet. He hastily defended himself with a clumsy stance, but Barak, with his temporarily heightened reaction speed due to the lightning, smirked and redirected his sword, aiming for his unguarded stomach.

Puk!

The blow was intense.

He grimaced in pain as he was sent flying, rolling on the ground several times. The pain was so severe that he felt like retching. Fortunately, he hadn’t eaten anything before coming here; if he had, he was sure he would have emptied his stomach right there.

Barak offered no respite. In a flash, he reappeared, launching a barrage of attacks—horizontal and diagonal slashes.

His onslaught was relentless. He tried to defend himself as best as he could, but soon he couldn’t keep up. Bruises marred his body, blood trickling from his forehead into his eyes, adding a more sinister vibe to his appearance. Though he could see Barak’s attacks in slow motion, his body refused to respond properly, which was frustrating. He vowed to train harder, gritting his teeth as the pain intensified. Waiting for the perfect moment, he threw sand he had collected earlier at Barak, aiming for his eyes. He knew it wouldn’t accomplish much, but it could annoy him, potentially giving him time for his next plan.

Indeed, when Barak saw the sand flying toward his face, his eyes narrowed dangerously, sending chills down his spine.

”You piece of shit!”

Zzt! Zzt!

Lightning crackled around Barak’s face, blocking the attack. He was enraged, and the lightning surged around his weapon as it hurtled toward him at deadly speed.

His eyes widened in surprise at this phenomenon. To think Barak had already reached this level.

Then it happened—everything slowed down even more than usual. He saw those strange lines again, this time on the incoming sword clad in lightning. Among those lines, one stood out, shining more brightly than the others, seemingly at the center of them all.

For reasons he couldn’t explain, he felt an urge to shatter it. Unconsciously, his sword moved; he pushed it forward, the tip touching that shining line.

Snap!

He lost consciousness right after that, feeling something blunt collide with his stomach for the second time.