Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

Meanwhile, in another training room, Barak was training like a madman.

’Fuck! Fuck! His thoughts were a roar in his head. I swear I’ll make him regret taking away what should have been my glorious school life. A cursed child... Damn you, Nero!’

His hatred for Nero had reached unfathomable depths, boiling hotter with every passing day—especially after catching sight of his own sister showing interest in him. Barak knew exactly what that meant. She was biding her time, quietly observing, weighing Nero’s worth before deciding if he was fit to be recruited.

That possibility gnawed at him. If she saw potential... then their father surely would too. And Barak knew his father better than anyone—an unforgiving man who valued people solely by their worth. Bring glory to the family, and you were embraced. Fail to prove yourself, and you were discarded like trash.

Nero, the boy who had abandoned the Raizen name, was now making waves, displaying feats that would inevitably draw their father’s gaze. If he shone any brighter, the chance of him being welcomed back—no longer as a cursed child, but as a true Raizen—would be dangerously high.

The thought alone tightened Barak’s chest with a suffocating pressure. It made him restless. Made him furious. So he trained without pause, trying to crush that anxiety under raw power.

Golden lightning burst from his body, crackling violently along his arms and sword. With a snarl, he charged headlong into a horde of golems, each swing of his blade splitting stone and metal like paper.

Chi~ Chi~

Sparks of golden lightning illuminated the vast chamber like a raging thunderstorm compressed into human form. Barak stood at the center, chest heaving, eyes glowing with manic determination. Sweat poured from his brow, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop.

’I can’t let him surpass me... Nero... cursed child... if you think you’ll ever be recognized, I’ll crush you myself before that happens!’

The walls of the training ground trembled as fifty armored golems, forged of enchanted stone and steel, emerged from the rune-lit gates. Their footsteps were thunder, their glowing eyes locked onto the lone figure who radiated murderous intent.

Barak smirked. ”Come.”

Golden prana flared from his core, flooding into his limbs. Lightning crawled over his skin, wrapping his body like a raging tempest. He gripped his sword tightly, golden arcs dancing along the blade’s edge until it seemed more lightning than steel.

The first wave of golems charged, their heavy bodies moving with surprising coordination. One swung a massive hammer downward, aiming to crush him. Barak’s body blurred—golden light streaked across the hall.

”Raizen Sword Art—First Form: Thunder Slash!”

His sword drew a perfect arc, faster than the eye could follow. The hammer shattered mid-swing, the golem’s torso splitting in half with a deafening crack. Lightning leapt from the destroyed body into the nearest three golems, blasting them backward like ragdolls.

But more came. Blades and spears thrust from every direction. Barak twisted his body unnaturally fast, golden afterimages trailing his movements. Every swing of his blade carried not just steel, but the weight of his prana-infused Law.

Each strike was a storm. Each step thunder.

The fifty golems surrounded him, forming a crushing wall of steel and stone. Yet Barak laughed, his teeth bared like a beast.

This is nothing. Nothing compared to what I must surpass.

He leapt into the air, lightning bursting from his feet like rockets. His sword spun, gathering prana until golden arcs burst forth in every direction.

”Raizen Sword Art—Second Form: Thunderclap Barrage!”

In an instant, countless slashes rained down, each strike followed by a blinding flash and deafening crack. Golems shattered, their fragments scattering across the chamber. In less than a minute, the ground was littered with broken pieces of stone and glowing cores.

The system voice rang coldly inside the chamber:

[Normal Mode Cleared]

Barak landed heavily, his chest rising and falling, but his eyes still burned. This wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

”Hard Mode,” he growled.

The runes across the floor flared brighter, the gates creaked, and this time, the room quaked as more than a hundred golems emerged. Their footsteps were like drums of war. They were larger, sturdier, their armor carved with glowing runes. Among them walked Knight Golems, their stone hands gripping massive enchanted swords, the air shimmering faintly around them. Others stepped forward cloaked in arcane symbols—the Mage Golems.

Barak’s lips twisted into a grin. ”Perfect.”

The horde surged forward. The Knight Golems swung their enchanted blades, releasing arcs of elemental force—fire, wind, and earth slashes tearing across the battlefield. Mage Golems raised their arms, chanting in hollow voices as spheres of fire, ice lances, and lightning bolts materialized.

Barak didn’t flinch.

Golden lightning surged, brighter than ever, burning his skin as his prana core roared in overdrive. His veins felt like they were on fire, but he welcomed the pain.

”I’ll show you what it means to be a Raizen!”

He launched forward, breaking the sound barrier. The ground cratered beneath his step as he slashed at the first Knight Golem. Their swords met—steel against stone—but the collision detonated in a blinding storm of sparks and lightning. Barak’s strength overwhelmed the golem’s, splitting its sword, then its torso in half.

But he wasn’t safe. A rain of ice lances descended from above, conjured by three Mage Golems. Barak flicked his wrist, lightning exploding outward like a net.

”Thunder Dome!”

A golden sphere of lightning enclosed him. The ice shattered harmlessly against it, vaporizing instantly. Without pause, he roared and burst forward, his sword screaming with power.

He carved through the Mage Golems in a whirlwind of light, each slash precise, faster than they could finish their spells.

Yet, for every one he destroyed, five more closed in. The Knight Golems moved in formation, blades striking in synchronized arcs. Mage Golems fired volleys of spells that lit the chamber like a battlefield.

For any normal Red Knight, this would’ve been overwhelming. But Barak thrived in chaos.

His sword art flowed seamlessly, each movement like water turning into lightning—smooth, yet devastating.

”Raizen Sword Art—Third Form: Storm Dance!”

He became a golden storm. His sword spun and twisted in unpredictable patterns, shredding golems to dust, the ground scarred by countless craters and scorch marks. Lightning struck from above with each movement, as if the heavens themselves answered his call.

Still, his chest burned, his muscles screamed, but Barak’s grin only widened.

’This is what I need. More... more!’

Dozens of golems exploded in rapid succession. Shards of enchanted stone clattered to the floor, yet the horde still advanced. The chamber shook with the combined pressure of so many Laws.

Then, a Knight Golem stepped forward—twice the size of the others. Its blade glowed with the Law of Earth, every swing warping the space around it.

Barak’s eyes lit up. ”A worthy opponent.”

He charged. The clash was titanic—lightning against earth, gold against brown. Sparks flew, shockwaves rippled outward. Each strike of Barak’s blade was met by crushing counterforce, but his speed was unmatched. He darted around the massive golem, golden arcs cutting chunks from its armor.

The Mage Golems didn’t relent. They conjured chains of frost, whips of flame, and bolts of violet lightning. Barak’s movements blurred—sometimes cutting them down, sometimes taking blows head-on, his body bruised and burned. But the more damage he took, the more savage his attacks became.

At last, he leapt high into the air, his prana bursting at maximum.

Golden lightning wings erupted from his back, crackling violently. He raised his sword overhead, every ounce of his strength pouring into it.

”Raizen Sword Art—Final Form: Heavensplitter!”

He descended like a meteor. His blade struck the massive Knight Golem, splitting its body in half with an earth-shattering crack. The golden lightning surged outward in a tidal wave, ripping through the entire formation. Dozens of Mage and Knight Golems were annihilated in the blast, their fragments raining across the battlefield.

Silence followed, broken only by Barak’s ragged breathing. His chest heaved, his body trembling. His arms felt like lead, but his eyes still gleamed with manic fire.

[Hard Mode Cleared]

The system’s cold voice echoed, but Barak didn’t relax. He staggered, then forced himself upright, clutching his sword with white knuckles.

Not enough. Not yet. If Nero shines brighter, then I’ll blind the world with my storm.

Lightning cracked again, as if in answer to his madness.

And Barak, obsessed beyond reason, pressed the system once more.

”Next level.”

°°°

Constel’s Duchy, bastion of the Raizen’s family.

At the center of the city, in the lord manor. Azariah Raizen, Nero’s father was standing near the glass window overlooking the entire duchy. He seemed lost in thoughts when suddenly someone whose feature couldn’t be seen appeared.

’’Have you verified everything, Shadow?”

’’Yes, my lord. I found a group of fanatics hidden in the mountains. Should I send the hounds?”

’’No, I’ll go personally.’’

The person shadow was shocked by the lord’s decision. This group of fanatics didn’t warrant their lord personal intervention but the Shadow choose not to comment. Bowing they disappeared.

Black lightning crackled around Azariah, time for some warm up. Thinking about the report about his discarded son he couldn’t help but smile.

’’Show me more Nero. Show me if you are worth getting into the family registry. I only need useful tool.’’