Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

”Complacency is the stairs straight to downfall.” – Nero Adams.

°°°

Meanwhile, in another shattered corner of the pocket dimension, the only sounds were the slow hiss of cooling rock and the ragged, painful rhythm of breathing.

Nero lay on his back, staring up at a bruised, alien sky. Every gasp for air was a battle. His chest rose and fell in sharp, shallow hitches, a broken bellows trying to stoke a dying fire. His body was a map of ruin. Small cuts crisscrossed his arms and face. Deeper gashes, some still oozing crimson, others sealed by the cauterizing heat of his own flames, marked his torso and legs. His right arm was a mess of torn muscle and seared flesh where the wind-threads had found their mark. The ache was a deep, bone-deep chorus of pain, with the fractured ribs singing the loudest tune.

He coughed, a wet, hacking sound that shook his whole frame. A mouthful of coppery blood splattered onto the melted stone beside his head. The action sent fresh agony blazing through his chest. It felt like a dozen knives were lodged between his ribs.

For a long moment, he just existed in the pain. Then, through the haze, the words formed, bubbling up from some stubborn, analytical part of his mind that refused to shut down even in defeat.

”Complacency,” he murmured, the word tasting of blood, ”is the stairs straight to downfall.”

The truth of it was a colder shock than any of his wounds. The fight replayed in his mind—not the epic clash of powers, but his own mistakes. The little victories, the dual laws, the awe of others... it had made him arrogant. He had started to believe his own legend. He had trained, yes, but with the confidence of someone who believed he was ahead. He had stopped pushing against the absolute edge of his limits. He had been playing with his power, not mastering it.

And the result? He had been systematically dismantled. Beaten, broken, and brought to the brink of death by an enemy who treated power not as a gift, but as a calculated tool. He had relied on tricks and hidden cards, while she had wielded fundamental mastery.

The shame burned hotter than any fire law. He had been given a gift—no, a terrifying potential—that defied the world’s understanding. And he had been coasting. As someone with such a legacy bound to his soul, with future achievements that should shake the heavens... he must do better. He had to do better. If he continued down this lazy path, the road didn’t lead to glory. It led only to an early grave, paved with the regrets of wasted potential.

”Ah...” he groaned, the sound half-pain, half-resolution. ”I must do better. I should have awakened three, even four laws by now. I’ve been passive, waiting for them to come to me.” His mind, sharpened by adrenaline and failure, began to plot. ”And the laws I have... I use them like separate tools. A hammer, then a screwdriver. I need to understand them as one unified force. To bring the true, combined best out of them.”

This fight was a brutal lesson, written in blood and lightning. He lacked foundation. He lacked realm. He needed to break through to the Purple Knight level, and fast. To condense a domain—a zone of absolute personal authority over his law. And he didn’t have just one law. The thought was staggering. Two domains. Could he merge them? Could a domain of all-consuming fire and a domain of blinding lightning be fused into something entirely new, something uniquely his? The possibility ignited a desperate, eager fire in his chest, cutting through the pain. He needed that power. He needed the Purple Knight’s aura—that advanced, deadly energy that could make any strike lethal.

”Hmmh!”

His planning was cut short by a sudden, invasive sensation. From the headless corpse of the Ouroboros emissary a few yards away, a dark, dense wisp of energy—the color of tarnished gold—detached itself. It didn’t drift; it shot like a seeking arrow, bypassing his shattered defenses and piercing straight into his chest.

It was her soul. Or what remained of it. She was no longer human, not after the modifications and the demonification. She was classified, on a fundamental level, as a monster. An extremely high-level one. And upon death, such entities left behind pure soul-essence, a potent nutrient for a compatible predator.

The foreign energy dove deep, past his broken body, and into his inner world.

The familiar, yet always awe-inspiring, vista unfolded in his mind’s eye. A serene, starry universe, forever dark and profound. At its center churned a silent, powerful vortex, an anchor of immense, slumbering power. Above, nine stars hung in the celestial tapestry.

Two shone with vibrant, active light. A crimson star, blazing with furious heat, housing the Law of Fire—the most destructive force. Beside it, a golden star crackled and zipped with impossible speed, bathing the void below in sporadic, beautiful lightning—the Law of Lightning, the fastest force.

The remaining seven stars were dim, ghostly outlines, each a different, muted color. They were shackled, silenced by countless, thick black chains of sealing energy that bound them tight, preventing their light and power from escaping.

The invading dark-gold energy made a beeline for the third star. This one, sitting beside the golden lightning star, was a deep, solid brown. Originally, it too had been bound by nine black chains. But due to Nero’s relentless combat, his continuous life-or-death struggles, and the slaughter of countless monsters, three of those chains had already been snapped, their broken links drifting away into the void.

Six chains remained.

The dark-gold energy, a condensed essence of a peak Purple Knight-level entity, slammed into those six remaining chains with terrific, final momentum. It was not an attack, but a key, a burst of pure, unrefined power that was instantly absorbed by the hungry brown star.

The star reacted. It flared to life, shining with a dazzling, earthy brown light so intense it seemed to pulse with a heartbeat of its own.