Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

Right as the trio were about to leave the training room, Nero’s eyes narrowed.

There, at the edge of the hall, stood the butler—the same old man who had driven them from the station. He had gone unnoticed until now, blending into the quiet background as though he were no different from the villa staff. But Nero’s instincts screamed otherwise.

The man’s appearance spoke volumes. Despite looking close to seventy, his physique was anything but frail. His frame was tall and straight, fine muscles hidden beneath the crisp black uniform of a butler. Faded scars ran across his forearms and neck, marks that time could not erase. His eyes were sharp, calm yet piercing, like a seasoned predator who had seen countless battlefields.

Nero’s heart thumped in excitement. From the very first glance at the station, he had known this man was strong—dangerously strong.

”Excuse me,” Nero called out, gripping the hilt of his training sword. ”Would you... spar with me?”

Lux and Adam both turned toward him wearing a face that say, I knew something like this might happen.

The old man raised a brow, his expression neutral. Then, after a long pause, he let out a low chuckle. ”You’ve got sharp eyes, boy. Most wouldn’t see past this uniform.”

He stepped forward, the sound of his polished shoes echoing faintly. ”Very well. If you wish to measure your blade against mine, I’ll entertain you. But don’t regret it.” ℴ

’’He is one of my father trusted aids. The Flash Knight.’’ Lux nonchalantly explained.

Adam blinked. ”The Flash Knight? As in the knight who fought in the eastern campaign thirty years ago? The one who single-handedly cleaved through an entire vanguard using light techniques?”

The old man gave a small smile but said nothing.

Instead, he simply removed his gloves, setting them aside, and reached for the rack of real blades. He chose a simple longsword—plain steel, unadorned, yet when he gripped it, the weapon seemed alive.

Nero’s blood boiled with anticipation. His swordsmanship was self-taught, raw but powerful. To spar against a powerful knight—a wielder of the Law of Light—was the perfect chance to grow.

The sparring platform lit up, runes glowing to life as the magical barrier shimmered around them. It was designed to heal injuries unless they were fatal—perfect for duels like this.

Lux and Adam settled at the edge, their eyes fixed on the stage.

Nero raised his blade in salute. The old man returned the gesture, his posture effortlessly perfect, honed by decades of discipline.

And then—

They moved.

Nero lunged first, his sword cutting through the air in a wide arc. His speed was impressive, the blade whistling with intent. But before the strike could connect, the old man was gone.

A sharp flash blinded Nero’s vision for an instant—light bending, condensing.

When his sight cleared, the old man was already behind him.

Nero barely twisted in time, parrying a downward strike that would have grazed his shoulder. The force rattled his bones, making his arms tremble.

”So fast!” Adam muttered, gripping the railing.

Lux’s eyes were fixed, unblinking. ”That’s why he’s called the Flash Knight. He moves with light itself. Nero will need more than brute force to keep up.”

Nero gritted his teeth, excitement flaring. His instincts screamed again and again—every time the old man moved, it was like lightning striking. One instant he was in front, the next, his afterimage shimmered while the real strike came from an impossible angle.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Their swords collided in rapid succession, sparks bursting like miniature stars. Nero’s arms grew heavier with each clash, but he refused to falter.

”You’ve got fire in you, boy,” the old man said calmly between strikes. His tone was not mocking, but instructive. ”But your footwork is wide. Your stance leaves gaps. Watch.”

In the next instant, the old man’s body blurred into a streak of golden light. He struck from Nero’s left—then from his right—then from above. Each strike came faster than the last, forcing Nero to rely on instinct alone. His self-taught style was wild, reactive, but it carried strength. He blocked two blows, barely avoided the third, but the fourth grazed his ribs, the barrier flaring as it healed the wound instantly.

Nero staggered back, panting, but his eyes shone brighter. ”Incredible...”

Lux leaned forward slightly, he was enjoying the show. ”He’s not just moving fast. He’s bending the law of light itself—shortening the distance between steps by refracting his image. It’s almost teleportation.”

Adam’s fists clenched. ”Then how the hell is Nero supposed to land a hit?!”

The old man didn’t let up. His sword moved with frightening precision, each cut clean, controlled. Yet behind the mastery, Nero felt something else—kindness. The old man wasn’t trying to crush him. He was teaching him. Every strike was designed to reveal a flaw, to force Nero to adapt.

And adapt he did.

Instead of trying to follow the flashes, Nero closed his eyes for a brief moment, focusing not on sight, but on sound—the faint whistle of air, the subtle shift in weight across the wooden floor. When the next strike came, Nero pivoted, his blade intercepting the old man’s with a resounding crash.

For the first time, the old man’s eyes widened slightly.

”Well done.”

Nero pressed forward, attacking with renewed vigor. His sword arcs were wide, wild, but now sharper, more deliberate. Each clash sent vibrations through the barrier, a storm of sparks flying around them.

But the Flash Knight had yet to show his true brilliance.

The old man suddenly stepped back, his sword glowing faintly. Runes of light shimmered around him, compressing into the edge of his blade.

”Watch carefully. This is what it means to wield the Law of Light.”

With a single slash, a radiant wave of light erupted, slicing across the platform like a crescent moon. Nero’s eyes widened as he raised his sword to block. The impact threw him back several feet, his knees nearly buckling under the weight of the strike.

”Hah! He condensed light into his blade,” Nero muttered, breathless.

But he refused to yield. Planting his feet, he roared and charged again, his sword trembling with determination. Even as the old man blurred into another flash of light, Nero’s instincts sharpened—bit by bit, adapting to the impossible speed.

From the sidelines, Lux and Adam exchanged glances.

”He’s learning,” Lux whispered. ”Every strike, every clash—Nero’s absorbing it.”

Adam smirked. ”That’s Nero for you. He doesn’t back down. Not even against a renowned knight.”

The duel raged on, steel against light, old mastery against raw talent. The air itself seemed to vibrate, the barrier struggling to contain the sheer force of their clash. And as the minutes dragged on, Nero’s eyes grew sharper, his movements tighter.

This wasn’t just a spar. It was a passing of knowledge. A test of spirit. A clash between generations.

And Nero... was slowly rising to meet it.