Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

While Nero was self-torturing himself in the guise of training, in another part of Raizen’s estate, near the center, stood a mansion by the lake. It was neither grand nor small, but perfectly situated in the middle, exuding a certain elegance without being opulent. This was Barak’s mansion.

Naturally, there was a garden.

The lakeside air was fragrant with the scent of jasmine. This was no natural basin filled with meltwater; it was a luxurious addition to a formal garden created by Barak, a testament to his ample leisure time and money. As Barak walked into the garden, he stepped closer to the edge and crouched down. From six feet above, the surface appeared opaque green, but from just two feet away, it was clear enough to see the plants and life below the surface. He wanted to watch the koi carps. They were huge and numerous, each about as long as his arm. He gazed across the wind-ruffled surface to the lily pads in bloom, their white and magenta petals catching the breeze. He inhaled slowly. His little piece of heaven in the urban jungle. It was worth every penny spent on it, and he had no regrets. He could relax his mind here and do what he was about to do. ℴ

Moving deeper, he arrived at the place he was after—a platform for meditation.

Barak sat cross-legged on the platform surrounded by bonsai. He then took out an elixir and drank it, beginning to meditate to digest the elixir. Heat emanated from his shirtless body, sweat dripping down his sculpted muscles. No scars were visible on his body—not that he never had any; they simply disappeared after taking high-grade elixirs and healing potions.

The heat from his body intensified as time passed until his skin reddened. The sweat on his body evaporated before he shone for a moment, and a black substance appeared all over him—impurities expelled from his body. His physique had evolved. Finally, he opened his eyes, lightning flashing through them. As he opened his mouth, he exhaled white mist but frowned at the unbearable stench coming from his body.

He rose to his feet in a flash, disappearing into his mansion to take a lengthy bath to thoroughly cleanse himself. Once done, he changed into casual clothes and went downstairs. He could feel strength coursing through him; the first step toward getting ready for the entrance exam next month had been taken. He would use the remaining time to train, trying to increase his core.

Servants brought him food and wine. After eating until he was full, he drank the wine.

After two glasses, he went to his study and began reading a martial arts book before abruptly stopping, his mind drifting back to the previous fight he had with Nero—what had happened?

”Sigh! Let’s stop thinking about it. It must have been luck, proof that I must work harder so luck won’t affect me like this anymore.”

He was not in the mood to read anymore. His mind unconsciously drifted toward his half-brother, Nero, the cursed child. It was true that he didn’t like him because he was the shame of this great family.

Barak had a certain way of looking at people: those valuable and those not. The valuable could help him and his family grow, while the worthless were not worth his time. Naturally, Nero fell into the latter category, but there was one thing Barak appreciated about this ”worthless” brother of his—his will. Nero’s will could never be broken, despite everything he had gone through.

How could Barak not know all that Nero endured as a member of the family, being one of the instigators of his suffering? Barak knew very well what hell Nero had faced, and yet he never despaired. His will to survive was unbreakable. Most people would have committed suicide in Nero’s situation or fled and died somewhere. Even Barak himself wasn’t certain he could endure even half of what Nero had gone through without taking his own life.

”I appreciate your unbreakable will. If only you weren’t a cursed being, if only you were like us and had received blessing, I’m certain you would achieve great things. What a pity; you will never become anything.” Barak lamented, which was unlike him. He became emotional for a moment—something ridiculed in a family where the law of the jungle prevailed.

Shaking his head, he pushed those nonsensical thoughts to the back of his mind and left the study to train. He needed to swing his sword a few times to clear his head. Whether Nero’s will broke under the family’s suffering or anything else happened didn’t matter. He was not destined to shine—he was a dead star, something not worth wasting his time on, what matters is what he Barak, the next duke, head of the house would achieve, he must do well at the academy, surpass his elder sister’s achievement to completely set his status of rightful successor in place.