Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

A/N:It’s your boy FallenMage here. Just to apologize to you all my readers, thanks for the continual support, I hope you’ll continue and I’m apologizing for the fight scenes who seemed to stretch endlessly, my bad but I have to write them this way for you to enjoy them. It is to show the main character and other side characters struggling and how they grow from pressure and experience failures, making everything easy will be boring don’t you think? Well, please keep supporting me with power stones and Gift (Preferably this one, (Smirk), I’m thinking of creating a discord server as well to create an event where each one can suggest a villain with characteristics, I’ll pick the most promising ones. Let’s go Fallens!

•••

”Ugh...!” Nero groaned, his breath shallow, each exhale edged with pain. Gritting his teeth, he raised his uninjured hand, a small but intense flame igniting at his fingertips. Without hesitation, he pressed the flame against the deep wound on his other arm and tight.

Ssszzzzz—!

The sickening scent of burning flesh filled the air as the wounds were cauterized, sealing shut under the heat. His body jolted from the pain, but no sound escaped his lips beyond a sharp hiss. The bleeding stopped, but at a cost.

He glanced around, eyes narrowing.

His backpack was gone.

Lost during the battle—no healing potion, no supplies. Just charred earth and drifting smoke surrounded him.

”Tch... I really need to buy a spatial ring next time,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low but laced with determination. A quick inner scan of his condition told him what he already knew:

Multiple internal injuries.

Several broken ribs.

Sword arm—completely useless.

Despite the dire state of his body, his expression remained calm, disturbingly so for someone standing on the edge of death. His eyes were calculating, sharp, already seeking a way out.

Meanwhile—

A short distance away, the demonized mage stood trembling, his face a nightmarish mess—charred, mangled beyond recognition from Nero’s fiery assault. His rage had reached a boiling point.

”HOW DARE YOU RUIN MY BEAUTIFUL FACE!” he shrieked, his distorted voice filled with venom.

”I’m furious now... I’ll make your death unforgettable.”

His face twisted, barely human, more akin to a snarling demon than man. From his spatial ring, he drew something—

—a black, orb-shaped stone, pulsating with dark energy, leaking an ominous aura that made the very air feel heavier.

”...!”

The moment Nero laid eyes on it, every instinct in his body screamed. Alarm bells went off inside his head—he couldn’t let that thing be swallowed, no matter what.

He didn’t have time to think.

Barely able to move, Nero lifted his arm and with sheer will, launched two quick fireballs, streaking toward the mage in rapid succession.

FOOM—FOOM!

But hastily formed and weakened by his injuries, the attacks lacked the force to make a difference.

The demonized mage snickered, a grotesque sound from a burned throat, the twisted grin on his ruined face somehow even more menacing. With a wave of his hand, a shimmering wall of water formed, blocking both fireballs with ease.

And then—he swallowed the black orb.

Gulp!

A beat of silence.

And then—

BOOM—!!

A terrifying pulse of energy exploded outward, centered on him. The mist surrounding the battlefield instantly dissipated, trees trembled violently as if a storm had arrived, and the earth beneath their feet shuddered.

Above, the clouds rolled and churned unnaturally as a shroud of black mist enveloped the mage, cloaking his form entirely. From inside—

Crack... snap... squelch...

The grotesque sound of bones rearranging, flesh mutating.

Nero squinted, trying to activate his special eyes, to see through the dark veil—but his body was too exhausted. The moment he tried, a blinding migraine exploded through his skull, forcing him to shut them down. His breath quickened.

’Damn...!’

Whatever was coming out of that mist... was not good.

Knowing he had mere moments left, Nero summoned flames once more—this time wrapping his broken arm and injured leg, fashioning two makeshift fiery braces. The burning heat tightened like a living bandage around his limbs, giving it minimal function, just enough to move—just enough to fight.

Because the real battle... was just beginning.

This was round two—the final round. One of them would die here.

And Nero had no intention of being the one to fall.

The black mist that had swallowed the demonized mage shredded apart, vanishing in a sudden burst of pressure that rippled outward like an invisible shockwave. In that fleeting moment of eerie stillness, Nero completed the creation of his makeshift flame brace, the searing flames spiraling tightly around his broken arm, locking it into a crude but functional position.

Then—

Step—

Something emerged from the dissipating black haze.

The moment that thing stepped into view, Nero’s entire body reacted. A cold chill surged up his spine, and his instincts howled with raw, primal warning. His eyes sharpened, locking onto the grotesque creature with a mix of focus and boiling hatred.

Gone was the burnt, disfigured mage.

In his place stood a towering monster—a warped, hulking figure resembling a monstrous merfolk, standing nearly three meters tall. Its slick, glistening skin was a sickly shade of violet and blue, pulsating like a living tumor. Elongated fins jutted from its back, twitching unnaturally, and dozens of tiny, lidless eyes blinked along its shoulders and arms.

But there was no beauty here. No grace. No fantasy.

It was abomination incarnate, reeking of malice and chaotic mana.

The creature floated effortlessly, hovering just above a pool of water that materialized beneath it, the ground below growing damp and chilled. The air grew heavier. The temperature around them dropped sharply—the forest floor now wet with condensation, grass bending under invisible pressure.

”Tch... This thing... It’s powerful,” Nero muttered under his breath, narrowing his eyes.

”Almost at the level of an Advanced Adept Mage...”

A bead of sweat slid down his temple, not from fear—but from pressure. His body was telling him one thing:

’You’re walking a razor’s edge, Nero.’

And yet—

He smiled.

A crooked, bloodied, defiant smile spread across his lips, despite the odds, despite his broken state. That smile—calm, mocking, alive—sparked a flicker of rage in the eyes of the demonized monstrosity.

The creature snarled, its twisted mouth stretching open.

”You’re still smiling? After seeing my perfect form? You should be trembling! Begging! CURSING YOUR FATE!”

Its voice was a wet growl, like water boiling inside a throat filled with mud and blood.

”You should be broken, not grinning!”

Nero didn’t flinch.

He simply stared back, smiling wider, his eyes alight with the fire of unyielding spirit.

The creature raised its massive trident, the dark metal glinting under the dim forest light.

”TIME FOR YOU TO DANCE TO DEATH!”

The sky above responded.

RUMBLE—!!

Clouds churned, black and heavy, swirling directly above the battlefield. The canopy darkened, leaves trembling. Wind picked up violently, twisting through the trees. Every inch of nature screamed in warning—

A storm was coming.

And it would decide everything.

•••

The moment the demonized mage’s trident slammed into the ground, an eerie ripple spread across the battlefield.

SPLASH—!

From the impact point, streams of water exploded outward, twisting and spiraling as they formed into twenty-plus humanoid shapes—warrior clones made entirely of dense, high-pressure water. Their eyes glowed an ominous blue as they surged forward with unnatural speed, sprinting and leaping at Nero like a pack of summoned executioners.

At the same time—

FWOOOSH—!!

Thick mist rolled in again, like a tidal wave of fog devouring the entire landscape. Visibility dropped instantly. The world turned a pale gray, shapes blurred into shadows.

Then came the next wave—

WHIPCRACK—! WHIPCRACK—! WHIPCRACK—!

Arrows made of water rained from the sky—hundreds of them. Each one whistled with death, precision-guided, homing in on Nero’s heat signature.

Attacked from above. Surrounded on the ground. Blinded by mist.

It was a kill box.

And yet—

Nero’s face remained cold. Focused. His muscles screamed. His blood boiled. But he didn’t let it cloud his judgment.

He couldn’t afford to lose his cool. Not now.

With a deep breath, he made his move.

”Flame Wings.” ℴ

FWOOM—!!

Two blazing wings of pure fire burst from his back, launching him skyward as glowing embers spiraled in his wake. He hovered, fire trailing beneath his feet like a comet ready to strike.

”Second Gear!”

A sudden pulse exploded from within.

THUMP—THUMP—THUMP—!

His heartbeat roared, echoing like drums of war. His skin flushed crimson as heat surged outward. His veins glowed faintly, visible under the skin like magma veins inside a volcano.

His blood flow accelerated. Strength surged.

His injuries tore open again—gushing—but he didn’t flinch. His eyes lit up, burning like furnaces.

”I only need two minutes.”

SHHHHK—!!

He conjured a short sword made entirely of condensed fire—its blade shimmering with destructive intensity. Prana flowed rapidly, drained into his wings, into his sword, into his body.

Good thing he had dual cores.

Then—

BOOM—!!

Nero vanished from his position like a blur, dodging the water arrows mid-air, spiraling through them with impossible agility. They chased him, curved mid-flight, always locking on. Instead of avoiding, he dived into the enemy.

SLASH—!!

One clone split in half, boiled away in an instant. But there were more.

WHAM—!

Another collided into him. He spun, using its momentum to throw it into the path of oncoming arrows. Impaled. Vaporized.

More arrows formed. More clones surged.

And yet Nero moved like a phantom—flashing, dodging, cutting. Every step was a violent dance. Every swing left trails of fire, blades of heat that lit up the mist.

SLASH—DODGE—PIERCE—SPIN—!!

Again. And again. And again.

His movements were relentless. But with each clash, each evasion, his body began to fail.

His breathing grew ragged.

His flame wings flickered.

His sword dulled, weakened by repeated use.

His skin split further from the heat pressure. Muscles screamed. Ribs threatened to break again.

And still—he couldn’t get close.

The demonized mage hovered behind the onslaught, untouched, watching from afar like a conductor orchestrating a symphony of slaughter.

”Dance, flame boy,” his voice echoed mockingly, distorted by the mist.

”Hehehe!Dance to your death.”

And that’s exactly what Nero was doing—a dance of survival, a dance of fury, a dance against the impossible.

And it was infuriating.