Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

The super train glided through the landscape, a silent silver bullet carrying them away from the mountains, away from the battles, away from the blood and the fear. Nero sat by the window, watching the world blur past—green hills, small villages, the distant sparkle of rivers. Khione sat beside him, her shoulder pressed against his, a quiet, solid warmth.

Across from them, Elreth sat in her own silence. The princess had not spoken since they boarded. Her eyes were distant, lost in thought. The healing potion had mended her body, but the weight of the past days lingered in her gaze. When the train finally pulled into the academy city station, she rose without a word, gave them a single, small nod, and disappeared into the crowd, heading toward the Samael palace.

Nero and Khione watched her go. Then they turned and walked in the opposite direction, into the outer city.

The outer city was a different world from the pristine, disciplined academy grounds. It was a sprawling district of shops, inns, restaurants, and entertainment venues—a place where cadets could relax, spend their credits, and forget the pressures of training. The streets were alive with evening energy, lanterns glowing warm against the gathering dusk.

They found a small, quiet hotel tucked away on a side street. The innkeeper, a plump woman with kind eyes, gave them a knowing smile and offered them their best room without comment. Nero paid for the night, and they climbed the narrow stairs to the top floor.

The room was not grandiose it could be called simple yet elegant. A large bed with soft blankets. A small table with two chairs. A window overlooking the quiet street below. A door leading to a private bathing room.

They stood in the center of the room for a moment, the silence settling around them. Then, without words, they took turns in the bath.

Khione went first. Nero sat by the window, listening to the faint sound of water from behind the closed door, watching the stars begin to appear in the darkening sky. His mind drifted. The vision. The gray-eyed woman. The war he couldn’t understand. He pushed it away. Not now. Not here.

When Khione emerged, wrapped in a soft robe, her white hair damp and loose, she looked softer, younger. She sat on the edge of the bed, and Nero took his turn.

The hot water was a balm. He let it soak into his muscles, let the steam fill his lungs. He thought of nothing. Just the heat, the quiet, the simple pleasure of being clean.

When he returned, Khione had changed into simple sleeping clothes and was sitting on the bed, her back against the headboard. He sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched.

For a long moment, they simply sat in silence, looking out at the night through the window.

Then Khione spoke, her voice low and thoughtful.

”I knew that organization would eventually target you,” she said, her ice-blue eyes fixed on the stars. ”But not so soon. I was shortsighted.”

She had been thinking about it since the ambush. After Nero’s achievement—the public knowledge of his dual laws, his unprecedented rise—it was inevitable that powerful groups would take an interest. An organization like Ouroboros, always seeking to enhance its members through forbidden means, would see him as the ultimate prize. A key to unlock secrets they had spent centuries chasing.

”I should have anticipated it,” she continued, a rare note of frustration in her voice.

”Prepared better. Found a way to protect you.”

Nero turned to look at her, his expression soft.

”Me too,” he said quietly. ”I knew they’d come eventually. But she was stronger than I expected. Damn strong.” He paused, the memory of that fight sending a chill through him despite the warmth of the room.

”I thought I was going to die, Khione. More than once.”

It was a rare admission. He didn’t like to show weakness, didn’t like to acknowledge fear. But with her, the walls came down.

Khione turned to face him. Her ice-blue eyes bored into his, searching, assessing. After a long moment, she spoke again, her voice carrying a weight of genuine curiosity.

”You have gotten stronger,” she said. ”I can’t see through you anymore. The feeling you give me now... It’s the same as when I’m near my brother.”

They sat together in the quiet room, the night deepening outside the window, the weight of the future pressing down on them. But they were not alone. They had each other. And soon, they would have allies.

The war with the Raizen was coming. But for this one night, there was only the quiet, the warmth, and the unbreakable bond between them.

Her brother, the heir of the Undine clan, was a powerful mage of considerable power. A mage who had trained for years to reach his level. And Nero, in the span of months, had somehow achieved the same presence.

Nero shrugged, a casual, almost dismissive gesture.

”Well,” he said, his tone light, ”somehow I stepped into the Purple Knight realm.”

Khione’s eyes twitched.

She stared at him. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

Somehow? Somehow?!

The casual way he said it, as if he were discussing the weather or a particularly good meal, sent a spike of pure frustration through her. She had trained her entire life, pushed herself to the absolute limit, endured the crushing pressure of Undine expectations, and she was still a Middle Adept Mage but soon to reach the peak. And this man—this impossible, ridiculous, absolutely absurd man—sat beside her and said he had somehow reached the Purple Knight level.

She understood now. All those times when other cadets looked at her with awe, when they whispered about the Ice Queen’s genius, when they called her a monster of talent... this was how they felt. Because beside Nero, beside this anomaly who shattered every rule and broke every record, even the greatest genius was just ordinary.

He wasn’t a monster. He was the king of monsters. The emperor of absurdity.

’What a monster.’ℯ