Primordial Heir: Nine Stars
Chapter 96: Intense Game 1

Chapter 96: Intense Game 1

Not wanting to be caught by Nero, Khione surged forward, channeling more power into her crystal wings. Each beat sent a shimmering trail of ice particles into the air as she cut through the sky like a frozen blade.

Behind her, Nero was hot on her trail, weaving between tree branches and rocky outcrops at breakneck speed. The thrill of the chase sent a rush through his veins, and perhaps because of that heightened excitement, his Divine Sense stretched beyond its usual limits—reaching out to a full 300 meters.

That’s when he felt it.

A faint presence brushed the edge of his awareness—hidden, still, and easy to miss if not for his sharpened focus. It was near a small mountain nestled at the edge of the forest, cloaked in shadow. His lips curled into a sly grin. Khione hasn’t noticed it yet.

This was his chance.

Without hesitation, he slowed slightly and broke off from the chase, dipping low and veering toward the hidden prey. Khione, still far ahead and focused on what lay in front of her, didn’t register his sudden change in direction.

He descended quickly, wings tucking in to reduce drag. Within moments, he spotted it—an orc, tall and broad, partially concealed behind a rocky outcrop near the mountain’s base. The monster turned its head at the last second, eyes widening as it spotted the fiery-winged human descending like a meteor.

And then—it froze.

For just a second, instinct wrestled with pride. Orcs were warriors, not cowards... but the flame-winged man radiated danger. He reeked of death—the death of kin. That scent clung to his body like smoke to charcoal, undeniable and chilling.

This was not a fight.

This was execution.

The orc’s thoughts were clear and rapid.

Too fast. Too strong. Too many of my kind dead. He’s not prey—he’s a predator.

There was only one option: Run.

And so he did.

Nero blinked, slightly amused. "Oh? Smart one."

Still, he gave chase—low to the ground, weaving through the trees with calculated precision. Flying this close to the forest floor meant he had to stay alert—too fast and he’d crash; too slow and the orc might escape. But he welcomed the challenge.

It was fun.

Unlike his previous skirmishes, which ended far too quickly for his liking, this one had a spark of excitement. The orc was fast and knew the terrain well. That alone made the chase more engaging. And who knew? Maybe this one would lead him to a group.

An extended hunt... now that’s entertainment.

The orc, meanwhile, was reassured by his early decision to flee. He’d lived in this forest since birth—every rock, root, and hidden path was known to him. He was faster here, more agile. But even so, he could feel the pressure behind him. The heat. The shadow of death.

I can’t outrun him forever, the orc thought, panting heavily. But if I reach the other one... together, we might stand a chance.

Without hesitating, he changed direction, veering toward a cave deeper in the mountain’s side—where another of his kin dwelled. A warrior stronger than him. Perhaps, together, they could bring this flying demon down.

From behind, Nero’s eyes sparkled as he watched the orc’s sudden change in course.

"Bingo."

He kept his distance, purposefully adjusting his flight to appear erratic—just slightly slower, as if he were struggling to keep up. He dipped too low once, brushing against a branch, then overcorrected with a grunt. His wings flared unevenly, kicking up leaves.

He smiled to himself.

Let him think he has the upper hand... it makes the hunt so much sweeter.

At last, they arrived.

This part of the forest opened up into a sparse, sunlit clearing. The canopy above thinned, letting shafts of golden light spill through the trees. Moss blanketed the forest floor, and jagged stones jutted from the earth like broken teeth. A large, flat boulder stood at the center, and beside it, an orc was seated—calmly sharpening a heavy stone club with long, deliberate strokes.

He looked up as the sound of hurried footsteps approached.

The newcomer burst into the clearing, panting and wide-eyed. The seated orc rose slowly to his full height, easily half a head taller than the one who had fled. Muscles rippled beneath his scarred gray-green skin, and his glare was sharp enough to cut. He barked a low growl in the harsh tones of the orcish tongue—a demanding question.

Why are you here? Why bring danger to my ground?

The smaller orc, still gasping for breath, gestured frantically over his shoulder, then spat out a few desperate words.

The demon. The one with fire. He’s coming.

The larger orc’s eyes widened for a brief second before narrowing again, fury and frustration flashing across his face.

"Idiot!" he roared in orcish, slamming his club to the ground. You led him here? You brought him to my sanctuary?!

Before the smaller orc could reply, the temperature in the clearing spiked.

Flames shimmered in the air as Nero descended through the sunlight like a burning angel. His fire wings vanished with a flicker, but the heat remained—dense, stifling, alive. It rolled over the orcs in waves, making their skin sweat and their legs tense instinctively for battle.

Nero landed softly on the moss-covered earth, arms folded loosely at his sides.

"Only two?" he said with mild disappointment, glancing from one orc to the other. "I was hoping for more... but I guess I’ll just take my time with you two."

The pressure he exuded wasn’t wild or chaotic—it was controlled, focused, like a furnace sealed behind steel walls. Yet it was undeniable. The kind of pressure that crushed weaker creatures just by being near.

The larger orc immediately took command. He reached into a crevice in the rock, pulled out a smaller stone axe, and tossed it to his companion. No words were exchanged—but the meaning was clear: Fight, or die.

The smaller orc caught the axe with trembling hands and nodded, fear sharpening into grim resolve.

Nero didn’t move. He simply stood there, letting them prepare, his amber eyes fixed on them like a predator studying prey.

He wasn’t going to use a weapon.

He didn’t need one.

Only his body—and the Law of Fire.