Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

Barak rose to his feet, his golden eyes gleaming with a maddening light. The dungeon stretched before him, dark and endless, filled with monsters that had been created to test him. But he was no longer just a cadet on a mission. He was something more.

He wanted more.

He needed more.

With a roar of fury, he charged into the darkness. The monsters came at him from all sides—blue orcs, twisted by the demon’s influence, their eyes burning with hate. Barak met them head-on. His sword blazed with black lightning, cutting through their ranks like a scythe through wheat.

He imagined each monster was Nero. The hated face. The despised eyes. The voice that haunted his thoughts. He struck with savage precision, each blow fueled by years of resentment and jealousy. The monsters fell before him, their bodies dissolving into wisps of dark energy that flowed into him, increasing his power.

"Die!" he screamed. "Die, die, die!"

The dungeon echoed with his fury. The monsters kept coming, but Barak did not tire. The demon seed within him pulsed with each kill, feeding on his rage, growing stronger. His reserves of prana swelled. His potential expanded.

In his dimension, the demon watched with a satisfied smile, a glass of mysterious red wine in his hand. The mortal was performing beautifully. His hatred was a symphony, and the demon was its conductor.

"Drink deep, little human," it murmured. "The power is yours for the taking."

Barak’s killing spree continued, a whirlwind of black lightning and savage fury. He was unstoppable. He was invincible. And he would show them all.

The die was cast. The storm was coming. And Barak Raizen was at its heart.

The last monster fell. Its body crumbled to ash, and a wisp of dark energy shot into Barak’s chest, adding to the growing reservoir of power within him. The dungeon was silent now, its corridors empty, its chambers bare. Barak stood alone in the final chamber, his chest heaving, his sword dripping with black ichor. The black lightning around him crackled and faded, leaving only the dim glow of the torches on the walls.

He had cleared the dungeon. Every monster, every creature, every lurking horror—all of it had been destroyed. Their essences now flowed through him, a dark river of power that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. His reserves of prana had grown. His potential had expanded. He was closer to the late Red Knight level than he had ever been.

But something was missing.

He could feel it, a hollow ache at the core of his being. The power he had gained was intoxicating, but it was not enough. It would never be enough. He needed more. He needed to grow stronger, faster, greater than any who had come before. He needed to crush Nero beneath his heel, to prove once and for all that he was the superior one, the one who deserved the glory and the recognition.

The demon’s seed pulsed within his heart, a dark, hungry presence that whispered promises of power. Barak’s reasoning, already frayed by years of resentment and jealousy, began to dwindle. The boundaries that had once held him back were blurring, dissolving.

He left the dungeon, emerging into the cold night air. The forest stretched before him, dark and endless, its trees swaying in the wind. He could sense the life within it—the animals, the monsters, the creatures that called this place home. They were prey. They were fuel.

Without hesitation, Barak plunged into the forest.

The first creature he encountered was a wild boar, its tusks gleaming in the moonlight. It charged, a mindless beast driven by instinct. Barak met it with a single stroke of his sword, the black lightning cutting through its body like a hot knife through butter. The boar collapsed, its essence flowing into him.

He moved deeper into the forest, his steps swift and silent. A pack of wolves circled him, their eyes gleaming in the darkness. He laughed, a cold, hollow sound, and unleashed a wave of black lightning that consumed them all. Their essences flowed into him, increasing his power by a fraction.

The demon watched from its dimension, its lips curled into a satisfied smile. "Yes, little human. Feed on their power. Let it consume you."

Barak continued his rampage, slaughtering everything in his path. Monsters, animals, anything that lived and breathed. His sword was a blur of motion, his body a vessel of destruction. He felt no pity, no remorse, no hesitation. There was only the hunger, the need for more.

The demon’s seed grew within him, its tendrils spreading through his veins, corrupting his body and mind. His eyes, once golden and arrogant, were now tinged with a dark, maddening light. His thoughts were consumed by a single, obsessive desire.

Nero. I will kill him. I will destroy him. I will prove that I am the strongest.

A stag appeared before him, its antlers branching like ancient trees. It stared at him with wide, innocent eyes, its body trembling with fear. Barak raised his sword, the black lightning crackling along its edge. He imagined it was Nero’s face he was looking at, and he struck.

The stag fell, its essence flowing into him. He felt a surge of power, dark and intoxicating. But it was not enough. It would never be enough.

He continued deeper into the forest, leaving a trail of death and destruction in his wake. The animals fled before him, but he was faster, more relentless. He caught them, killed them, consumed their essences.

His strength grew, but something else was happening. Something darker. His reasoning was fading, replaced by a consuming madness. The demon’s whispers grew louder, more insistent.

Yes, little human. Embrace the power. Let it flow through you. You are becoming something greater. Something that will terrify them all.

Barak’s eyes blazed with dark light. He was no longer just a man driven by jealousy. He was a creature of hunger, a vessel of hatred, a weapon forged in the fires of his own resentment.

He would show them all. He would show Nero. He would show his father. He would show his sister. He would rise above them all, and they would kneel before him.