Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

The couple walked side-by-side from the ravaged training ground to the academy’s main refectory. The usual chatter of the dining hall dipped as they entered, then swelled into a fervent wave of whispers. Every cadet’s gaze followed them—the anomaly and the Ice Queen, together, marked by the faint sheen of sweat and the subtle, powerful aura they couldn’t quite hide.

They ignored it all. They loaded their trays—simple, hearty food—and found an empty table in a corner. They ate without speaking, not because there was nothing to say, but because the cafeteria was no place to say it. Their silence was its own conversation.

Meanwhile, the quiet of the advanced training sector was broken not by a couple, but by a solitary figure. Princess Elreth Samael walked with a rigid, purposeful stride into a different sealed chamber. Her ornate academy uniform was gone, replaced with functional, heat-resistant training leathers with her spear.

The chamber recognized her biometrics. A neutral voice intoned, ”Welcome, Cadet Elreth. Select difficulty.”

Her orange eyes were cold and arrogant.

”Maximum. Hell Protocol. Simulated environment: Volcanic Caldera.”

”Warning. Hell Protocol is designed for senior cadet squad training. Solo attempt is not advised. Confirm?”

”Confirm,” she said, her voice flat. She needed to burn, or she would drown in frustration.

”Initiating.”

The spacious room shimmered. The smooth floor transformed into rough, black igneous rock, hot to the touch. The walls faded into a distant, smoky haze, and the ceiling glowed with the simulated hellish light of a magma-filled crater. The air grew thick, acrid, and blisteringly hot. For a fire wielder, it was less a disadvantage and more a challenging catalyst.

’’Hah!”

Elreth took a deep breath, drawing the heat into her core. She spun her spear once, and a coil of orange flame, pure and precise, ignited along its length. This was the Law of Fire, not as wild destruction, but as focused majesty—the forge flame, the royal hearth, the purifying sun like her father use to say.

The ground trembled. From fissures in the rock, molten figures pulled themselves up—golems of living magma and hardened volcanic stone. Their eyes glowed like coals. Above, flying constructs of superheated ash and crystalline shard took to the smoky air. The simulation didn’t send them in waves. It unleashed them all at once.

Hell had begun and,

’’Let’s enjoy this!” Elreth said wearing her trademark arrogant smile, she was oozing confidence.

The first magma golem lurched toward her, swinging a massive, glowing fist. Elreth didn’t retreat. She met it. Her footwork was not the flashy zigzag of lightning, but the solid, advancing steps of a spear-wielding legionnaire. As the fist descended, she sidestepped, and her spear shot out—not at the body, but at the joint of the stone arm. The flame around her blade didn’t just burn; it superheated a single, precise point.

CRACK-SHATTER!

The focused thermal shock made the rock brittle. The golem’s forearm shattered into crumbling pieces. It reeled back, but two more were already on her flanks. Elreth dropped into a low sweep, her spear trailing a crescent of fire that severed the legs of one. She used the momentum to rise, reversing her grip, and drove the butt of the spear upward into the chin of another, a jet of concussive flame bursting on impact and blowing its head apart in a shower of hot rock.

She was a whirlwind of controlled, violent grace. This was not the dance of a courtier, but the drill of a royal guardsman, perfected since childhood. Her Law of Fire amplified every strike.

”Searing Thrust!”

The spearpoint would pierce, and the flame would follow, exploding inside a target.

”Sunfire Wheel!”

She’d spin the spear around her body, creating a temporary wall of whirling flame to push back groups.

But Hell Protocol adapted. The flying ash-rays dive-bombed her, spraying clouds of choking, abrasive particles. She coughed, her eyes stinging. A magma golem seized the opening, grabbing for her spear. She let it have it, releasing the shaft.

Before the golem could react, she clapped her hands together and then thrust them forward.

”Forge Blast!”

A concentrated beam of white-hot fire, narrow as a needle, lanced from her palms, piercing straight through the golem’s chest and severing its core. It collapsed, her spear clattering free.

She snatched it up, but she was breathing hard. The heat was oppressive, even for her, sapping her moisture and strength. The golems kept coming, their numbers seemingly endless. One caught her a glancing blow on the shoulder with a stone claw. The leather sizzled, and pain bloomed—real, training-safe pain, but pain nonetheless.

’’Raar!”

A snarl ripped from her throat. This was not enough. She was holding them off, but she was being worn down. The simulation was winning. The feeling of being overwhelmed, of not being enough, mirrored her social frustrations perfectly, stoking a deeper, hotter fury. She had to release her pent up frustrations.

Elreth broke from the center of the mob, using short bursts of flame from her feet to propel herself backwards onto a higher outcrop of rock. The golems converged below, starting to climb. She had seconds.

She planted her spear into the rock beside her, letting it stand upright. She closed her eyes, ignoring the closing threat.

She drew her hands to her chest, palms facing each other. Between them, a tiny, brilliant sun began to form. It was not orange, but a blinding, royal gold. The air around her warped with the heat. The climbing golems slowed, their stone beginning to glow and soften just from proximity.

It was her first time using it because her strength grew, now she had stepped into the middle realm of the Red Knight, she could barely use it.

”Manifest: Royal Sun.”

She thrust her hands outward. The tiny sun expanded. It didn’t explode. It bloomed.

A wave of silent, golden radiance filled the chamber. There was no sound, only light and absolute heat. It was not a destructive blast, but an annihilating field. Every magma golem caught in the light didn’t melt; they disintegrated, their forms turning instantly to fine, inert dust. The flying ash-rays vaporized. The very rock beneath the light glowed red, then white, before the simulation magic struggled to reset it.

The light faded. Elreth stood on her outcrop, her hands on her knees, gasping. Her prana was utterly spent, a hollow, scorched feeling in her core. The chamber was empty. Clean. The volcanic simulation flickered and died, returning to the plain, scarred training room.

”SIMULATION TERMINATED. VICTORY: COMBATANT. ANALYSIS: CORE EXHAUSTION DETECTED. SEEK REST.”

Elreth didn’t feel victorious. She felt drained. Empty. The furious fire inside her had been burned out, for now. She slowly pulled her spear from the rock, the metal still warm. Her body ached, her shoulder throbbed, and her lungs felt dry as a desert.

But her mind was clear. She would prevail eventually like always.