Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

His soldiers, brave men and women who had been fighting a desperate holding action, did not hesitate. They disengaged instantly, retreating to the relative safety of the black walls. They knew what was coming. They had seen it before.

The gigantic monster charged, its steps shaking the very earth, a wave of pure malevolent force.

Azariah did not move. He simply raised Caladbolg.

The dark red lightning surrounding the blade erupted, engulfing his entire body. He became a nexus of destructive energy, his golden eyes glowing with an unholy light. The air itself screamed, torn between the natural cold and the artificial storm of power.

As the beast was mere feet from him, its maw open to devour him, Azariah finally moved.

It was not a step, but a disappearance. He vanished in a burst of crimson lightning and reappeared high in the air above the creature, hanging for a moment like an avenging god. He raised Caladbolg high.

”Heaven’s Wrath: Caladbolg’s Descent.”

He brought the sword down.

It was not a swing; it was a command. A pillar of concentrated, dark red lightning, as wide as the monster itself, slammed down from the sky, hammering into the beast’s back with the force of a meteor strike. The impact was cataclysmic. The creature’s stone-like hide shattered, its chitinous plates vaporized. A wave of concussive force radiated outwards, flattening the smaller monsters for a hundred yards in every direction and flinging plumes of snow and earth into the air.

The beast roared, a sound of agony and fury that was cut short as Azariah Flash Stepped again, this time appearing directly in front of its face. He thrust Caladbolg forward, and a continuous, focused beam of the destructive lightning shot from the tip, piercing straight through the monster’s head and out the other side.

The colossal creature shuddered, its charge faltering, and then it collapsed, its massive body hitting the ground with a final, earth-shaking thud that silenced the battlefield.

But Azariah was not done. The smaller monsters, though terrified, were still numerous. He landed lightly on the snow and began to walk calmly towards the remaining horde. With every step, he swung Caladbolg in wide, casual arcs. Each swing released a scything wave of crimson lightning that traveled across the plain, disintegrating everything it touched. Monsters were vaporized mid-leap, torn apart into nothingness, their forms unraveling before the absolute power of the Sword of Ruin.

In less than a minute, the plain was silent. The breach was sealed, not by magic, but by utter annihilation. The only sound was the fading crackle of lightning and the relentless fall of snow, already beginning to cover the scorched and shattered remains.

Azariah stood amidst the devastation, Caladbolg’s dark energy receding back into the blade. His golden eyes scanned the empty field, finding no more threats. He turned without a word and began walking back towards the black walls, his expression as cold and impassive as it had been at the start. For the second strongest man on the continent, this was not a battle; it was merely maintenance.

•••

Back within the formidable fortress that lay in the shadow of the great black walls, a small, hardy city had taken root. In the central manor, a structure as severe and unadorned as the man who ruled it, Azariah received the final field report on the breach. It was a terse, efficient affair. The cleanup was underway; the wall was secure. He dismissed the commander with a wave of his hand.

It was then that his spymaster, a figure who seemed woven from the shadows themselves, delivered a different kind of report. Though his son had left the family and renounced the Raizen name, Azariah had never truly let him out of his sight. After Nero’s initial awakening of the Law of Fire, the surveillance had intensified. Azariah was a patient hunter, content to wait for an asset to appreciate in value before making his move.

The spymaster’s words were simple, stark, and world-altering: ”The subject, Nero, has awakened a second Law. The Law of Lightning.”

For a long moment, Azariah was perfectly still. Then, a sound erupted from him that the stone walls of his manor had never heard before: laughter. It was not a chuckle, but a great, booming, and utterly unrestrained roar of triumph that echoed through the hallways, causing guards to stiffen and servants to freeze in their tracks. It was the sound of a man who had been patiently holding a worthless stone, only to watch it split open and reveal the heart of a star.

Outside, the perpetual twilight of the north deepened as if in answer to his mood. Dark clouds swirled above the fortress, and with a series of deafening cracks, brilliant forks of natural lightning rained down upon the distant, uninhabited peaks, illuminating the snow-filled skies in a sudden, violent display. The inhabitants of the small city looked up, unnerved. The Lord must be in a fine mood, they thought, mistaking the celestial fury for a sign of his pleasure.

When the laughter finally subsided, Azariah’s golden eyes gleamed with cold, acquisitive fire.

”Now,” he said, the word dripping with satisfaction, ”he is worth investing in.”

There were no orders to pack, no lengthy preparations. A tool of such immense, unprecedented value could not be left unattended for a moment longer. Within the hour, Azariah Raizen, the second strongest man on the continent, was aboard a private, high-speed airship, cutting through the stormy skies as he departed the northern front. He was heading back to the heart of the continent, his destination clear: to reclaim the son he had once discarded.

•••

The lazy prince of the daemons, Blake also contacted his father the emperor of the daemons, Solmon Raven, sat on his black throne and stared at his son’s eyes for a moment before they began to talk. Blake announced the news to his father and the later after the shock suggested to maintain good relation with Nero before cutting the connection.

Blake heaved a long sigh before snicking into his bed to sleep.