Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

”Cut off everything that hinders you on your path, be it family ties or toxic relationships; in the end, we live for ourselves.” — Nero.

°°°

In the early morning, the hues of the world bloomed anew as if each were a tiny flower reborn.

The main mansion of the Raizen estate bustled with activity as usual, knights standing guard at various entrances while servants hurried about, preparing for the new day.

The mansion itself was a stunning architectural marvel, a testament to the power and prestige of the Raizen family. It rose majestically against the backdrop of the sky, its grand façade adorned with intricate carvings and elegant columns that spoke of a bygone era of nobility. The walls, painted in deep shades of crimson and gold, glimmered in the morning light, reflecting an almost ethereal beauty.

Lush gardens surrounded the mansion, filled with vibrant flowers and manicured hedges that added to the estate’s allure. The air was fragrant with blossoms, and the gentle sound of water from an ornate fountain in the courtyard added a tranquil touch to the bustling atmosphere.

Inside, the grand hall welcomed visitors with soaring ceilings and magnificent chandeliers that sparkled like stars. Rich tapestries hung on the walls, each telling a story of the family’s illustrious past. The overall ambiance was one of majesty and intimidation, as if stepping into the mansion meant crossing into a realm of power and secrets, a place where only the worthy dared to tread. The atmosphere was thick with history, and one couldn’t help but feel the weight of expectation as they moved through the halls of this formidable estate.

Two hours passed in a flash, and various members of the main family could be seen moving toward the dining hall for the usual morning breakfast.

The dining hall of the Raizen estate was an impressive space that blended elegance with a sense of formality. Long, polished wooden tables stretched across the room, adorned with fine linen tablecloths and gleaming silverware that caught the light from the grand chandeliers overhead. Richly upholstered chairs surrounded the tables, offering comfort as family members gathered for their meals.

The walls were lined with intricate wood paneling, and large windows framed by heavy drapes allowed natural light to filter in, illuminating the room with a warm glow during breakfast and a softer ambiance during dinner. Tasteful artwork depicting the family’s storied history adorned the walls, adding to the hall’s grandeur.

At the far end of the room, a magnificent fireplace dominated the space, its mantel displaying ornate candelabras and family heirlooms. The scent of freshly prepared meals often filled the air, creating an inviting atmosphere where family members shared not only food but also stories and laughter, making the dining hall a central hub of connection within the estate.

The family head’s seat was larger than the others, and most seats were filled as they patiently waited for the patriarch to arrive—the second strongest man on the continent, rumored to be on par with the emperor, hailed as the King of Destruction.

The patriarch, with long black hair and a handsome, youthful face, arrived and sat, his expression devoid of any emotion as he indicated for everyone to start eating. It was then that he walked in.

°°°

A few minutes earlier, Nero had left his house, dressed in casual denim jeans and a black top, leisurely strolling toward the main mansion with his hands in his pockets. His eyes were closed, but that didn’t hinder his ability to perceive his surroundings; he occasionally opened them. As he made his way to the main mansion, he encountered many servants who hurried past upon noticing his presence, treating him as if he were invisible, though it didn’t matter to him.

He continued walking with his head held high until he reached the main entrance. The guards there wanted to verify his identity, but upon seeing him, they frowned, unable to hide their disgust as they let him pass. Once inside the mansion, he walked directly to the dining hall, guided by the head maid—a gray-haired woman with a few wrinkles etched into her face, a testament to her advanced age. She appeared defenseless, but he knew better; he couldn’t defeat her. Though she seemed harmless, that was merely a façade. She was a powerful warrior. Not only did a maid need to serve her master, but she also had to be capable of protecting him in any unexpected situation. This was why the maids of the Raizen household were trained, most of them for covert operations, raised as assassins.

He digressed. Following the head maid, they arrived before giant oak doors carved with the family symbol—a lightning bolt crossed by two swords.

”After you, young master,” she said with an impassive expression, the only one to address him as such.

Nodding, Nero stepped inside, feeling all eyes on him except for the family head.

The first lady of the house, Elreth, Barak’s mother; the second lady, Elsa, Finn’s mother; and the third lady, the mother of the youngest, were all present.

Of course, their children were there as well, and none of those gazes were kind. Some displayed blatant disgust, others contempt, and a few looked at him as if they wished he would simply vanish from their sight.

”Greetings, family,” he said, cupping his right hand around his chest and making a small bow—no need for excessive greetings.

Azariah Raizen finally raised his eyes, and his golden gaze landed on him, followed by an intense pressure. He swore he could hear small sounds of lightning; the space around them trembled, reality warping under Azariah’s power.

’Strong.’ He bit his lip, struggling to endure the pressure.

”So what do you want to say to me, requesting an audience?”

The pressure intensified, and Nero did his best to endure it as he raised his head, meeting those emotionless eyes, wondering if Azariah had ever loved him or his mother. He shook his head to discard those thoughts; it was unlike him to let emotions govern his actions. It seemed he wasn’t as perfect at controlling his feelings as he had thought.

Time to act, to accomplish what he had come to do.