Birth of the Ruler: The Emergence of the Primordial Race

Under the dim evening galaxy light, the surroundings were now cloaked in a foreboding and perilous tension, thick enough to crush mortal will and even tear apart the godhood aspirations of lesser celestials. In the midst of this magnanimous grave stood Nyxander, draped in a dark grey cloak streaked with arcs of white lightning, dancing like celestial serpents across a storm-lit sky.

Across from him, twenty-five colossal Primordial Beasts thundered forward, their monstrous forms moving with uncanny speed that defied the logic of their size. Each one bellowed a war cry that shattered the silence, unleashing a torrent of elemental fury, blasts of lightning, torrents of wind, rivers of fire, and raw pulses of pure energy erupted from the glowing tips of their horns, painting the battlefield with destruction.

Nyxander, unflinching, met the chaos head-on. Without hesitation, he surged forward, a blur of motion so swift his silhouette fractured into streaks, melding into the charged air like a phantom of war. He leapt, dived, twisted through the airborne inferno, descending in a controlled fall, his body grazing the ground as he slid with near-sacrificial grace. Each motion, a sidestep, a pivot, a duck, sliced through the very edge of annihilation as he danced between death and destiny.

With his right elbow bent, his arm yanked backward like a bowstring drawn taut by the hand of fate, Nyxander roared,

"Stormbreak Void Fist: Lightning Rift!"

The punch surged upward in a devastating uppercut, the wind spiraling around his arm into a tightly coiled vortex. As his fist reached full extension, the coiled vortex shoot forth, exploding like a cannonblast. The compressed gale struck the closest beast's lower jaw with thunderous force. The impact didn't just tremble the jaw, it locked it in place, forcing its mouth closed with such intensity that a barrier of compressed wind formed above, a translucent wall of raw pressure rising from its upper jaw.

Unable to anchor itself, the beast's front legs buckled, then the rear followed, its massive body flipping skyward in a grotesque arc, tumbling backwards like a mountain hurled by a god.

From behind, the Beast King's eyes widened, a flicker of understanding flashing across their ancient gaze. Realizing Nyxander's true aim, a faint smirk curved the corners of its maw. As the airborne beast spun dangerously close, the Beast King extended its right arm with eerie calmness, fingers slicing through the air like blades through silk. With a subtle wave-like yank, it redirected the flying beast's body to the side, as though brushing away a leaf caught in a breeze.

The redirected corpse slammed into the earth with earth-splitting force, a thunderous boom that echoed across the void, launching a wall of dust into the air like a rising tsunami, swallowing the battlefield in a wave of grit and power.

A lacer beam strike approached Nyxander from across his right. With the grace of a falling leaf, Nyxander gently bent his back, narrowly avoiding the deadly beam mere inches from his neck. He smoothly tilted back his left fist, resting his stance on his coiled frame like a panther ready to pounce. As the crackling beam faded into the air, his fist launched forward with explosive force.

"Stormbreak Void Fist: Lightning Rift!"

A dark vortex surged into life around his left fist, flickering violently with streaks of white lightning. The air around it spiraled, compressed into a volatile sphere of roaring energy, like a storm bottled within a single punch. As he released the strike, the vortex shot forward like a comet, the swirling winds trailing behind, feeding it, amplifying its fury.

It slammed into the right flank of the Primordial beast's head. The impact was monstrous. The beast's feet lost grip, sliding sideways as if the earth itself betrayed it. Its massive body spun three full times, each turn like the collapse of a sacred mountain—before crashing down with a ground-quaking thud, carving a wide pit into the earth and burying itself beneath a cloud of choking dust that swallowed its massive form whole.

But there was no time to catch breath.

From across the battlefield, another Primordial beast retaliated, unleashing a barrage of thunderous blasts, each strike ripping the air like war drums of the gods. Nyxander wasted no time. He moved like a flicker in a storm, side to side, dancing between the deadly bolts. Each blast landed a breath after he dodged, boring deep, jagged holes into the ground where he once stood. The land was pitted with destruction, but he kept advancing, his presence a blur of controlled fury.

As the distance closed, Nyxander launched himself into the air like a rocket, just as a thunderbolt shrieked from the horn of the colossal beast below. It seared through the air beneath him, missing by a thread. He landed atop the beast's head, his arrival like a meteor strike, forcing its skull to dip violently beneath the sudden weight.

Lightning crackled along the horn as it prepared to fire again, but Nyxander struck first.

His right hand shot forward, gripping the horn in a crushing vice. The sparks intensified, but then, crack! thin fractures snaked across the surface like spiderwebs in glass. With a burst of brute force, the horn shattered into glowing fragments, scattering like dying stars across the air.

Then, channeling power beneath his heels, he exploded into another leap. The force of his launch drove the beast's head down like an anchor dropped from heaven. The impact split the ground beneath, and the creature collapsed, breathless, broken, its reign ended in a heartbeat.

Nyxander, airborne once again, sliced through the sky toward the Beast King, a massive figure standing firm in the distance. He hurtled forward with the wind at his back, his right fist lit once more.

"Stormbreak Void Fist: Lightning Rift!"

The world seemed to narrow to his clenched fist, aimed at the Beast King's looming form. But just as the punch was about to land, Nyxander's eyes widened in disbelief.

With a calmness that defied the fury around them, the Beast King raised his open right hand, and caught the punch. The force vanished. The lightning died.

"Whaaat..." Nyxander's voice cracked through the tension-drenched silence, his breath stolen not by fatigue, but by shock.

At the Northern frontline encampment, the night had almost finished stretching its dark blanket across the galaxy, veiling the heavens in an obsidian silence. Murkiness now settled upon the horizon like a creeping fog of uncertainty. Inside the Astro Lord's tent, a dim, flickering lantern cast long shadows that danced lazily across the canvas walls.

Hildred sat behind his midsized table, his posture still and contemplative, elbows anchored on the surface, fingers interlocked in a steeple beneath his chin, while his jaw rested lightly upon them. His eyes were half-lidded, yet piercing.

Across from him, Dunstan and Lumina stood with quiet restraint, their hands at their sides, heads slightly bowed, like statues carved from obedience. Silence stretched between them like an old tapestry, thick, heavy, and weighted with unspoken thoughts.

"So, that is what happened." Hildred's voice finally cracked through the fabric of stillness, deep and deliberate. "And regarding the anonymous person who intervened… were you able to gather any useful information that might lead us to him? Perhaps, if identified, he, or she, may play a crucial role in this ongoing battle." His tone was calm, but it carried the weight of a hidden urgency.

"Not at all," Dunstan replied, his voice clipped, his expression unreadable.

But Lumina didn't let the report end there. "One thing is certain, it was someone within our Astro ranks," she said, her tone layered with cautious conviction. "He assisted during the Flashstamp crisis inside the station walls. At first, I believed it was Zion. But this recent encounter proved it wasn't him… someone else walks among us, staying deliberately in the shadows."

She paused, her eyes narrowed as though trying to trace the outline of a ghost. "Whoever it is, they have no intention of revealing themselves, not yet."

"It seems this mysterious ally prefers the comfort of anonymity," Hildred replied, leaning back slightly. "But for now, let's focus on what we can control. Get some rest, you'll both need clear minds to follow through with the strategic plans. And while you're at it, keep your eyes on your subordinates. A single loose thread could unravel the whole front."

"Yes, sir," they replied in unison, their voices firm, and turned without another word, slipping out into the cool air of the night.

As they stepped from the tent into the open, the camp lay before them like a slumbering giant, fires flickering in steady rhythm away from them, murmuring of Astro members echoing like a machines blending into the gloom. With purposeful strides, Dunstan and Lumina each moved toward their respective Astro camp sites, the quiet between them more of understanding than absence.