Birth of the Ruler: The Emergence of the Primordial Race

At the southern battlefield, where separate tensions collided and the very air choked with the weight of carnage, the ground cracked and broken beneath the wrath of clashing forces, where noises and silence fought a ruthless war to replace the other, the Primordial beast's monarch and Nyxander met in a storm of destruction. Nyxander lay against the jagged earth, his body carved into its fractures like a fallen statue reclaiming its shape. The Primordial beast's monarch advanced slowly, each step pressing against the ruined ground like a drumbeat of doom, when an unwelcome scream,harsh, raw, and foreign, burst from the corpse of a dead Primordial beast. The sound struck its eardrums like spears of irritation.

The beast monarch's gaze shifted violently, its sight cutting through the dust-choked distance, and then its eyes widened. There, where faint dust coiled like ghosts, raged a berserk black figure, tearing through everything in its path, rampaging with a madness even the monarch's own subordinates could not restrain. The sight of this incomprehensible aberration bound the beast monarch's gaze, and in that unguarded moment, it unwittingly gifted Nyxander the precious seconds to rise again.

Nyxander stepped from the shallow crater his body had carved, the dirt sliding from his form as he steadied himself. His voice, low yet bold, cut through the battlefield like tempered steel:

"You seem to be carried away by the confrontation over there."

The words snapped the monarch's attention back to him.

"What is that? What have you done?" the beast king roared, its lament more wrathful than fearful.

Nyxander's gaze, sharp as a spearhead, drifted toward the disturbance.

"Hmm," he murmured from deep within his throat. His eyes swept the chaos, his thoughts threading from Karl, to Kola, to Theodric. From the distance, he realized, Lunara was nowhere to be seen.

"Lu…nara," he muttered within, his heart tightening as the thought struck like a cruel revelation. "Could she have transformed into that? She's moving as though she isn't herself anymore."

Before his mind could spiral further, the beast monarch's voice intruded, heavy with taunt:

"It seems you were also shocked. This must be the first time you've seen your own subordinate lose themselves to rampage."

Nyxander's lips curved into a faint, deliberate smile, a mask stretched over his shaken reaction.

"Sure, I'm shocked," he said, voice dripping with mockery. "Shocked to see that your subordinates were too weak to restrain even one. Or…" He tilted his head, his words slicing like sharpened irony. "Perhaps mine are simply too strong for them."

Yet beneath that sharp smile, his thoughts churned with urgency:

"I need to find a way to shift the beast monarch's attention… If what I'm seeing is what I think it is, berserk, then this is more dangerous than either of us realize. Lunara may lose her life."

Silence clothed them for seconds as both the Primordial Beast's Monarch and Nyxander's gaze locked together, striking one another like thunderclaps seeking which sky would collapse first. Seconds bled into minutes. Though both stood firm, wearing authority like armor, deep within Nyxander's chest his blood boiled, fear gnawing at him, for he knew with every heartbeat, Lunara's life dangled closer to ruin.

"Will you continue, or retreat with your loser subordinates before mine uproot them like weeds torn from the soil?" Nyxander's voice finally fractured the silence, sharp yet steady. "Or else, you will have nothing left to rule over." His tone was calm, bold, but inwardly he prayed his words would be enough to rattle the beast. Another long silence befall them.

"You win… you have finally provoked me. But retreat? That will never befall one as supreme as I." The Primordial Beast's Monarch thundered back, his voice brimming with contempt. His towering fourteen-foot frame began to levitate, as if gravity itself bent in submission. The surrounding air spiraled into thick, violent winds; dust roared upward, forcing Nyxander to shield his face with a crossed arm while his gaze never left the rising titan.

"Now… I will show you what I am capable of." The Monarch's voice surged, amplified by the storm itself, as though the wind carried his words across the the surrounding. His colossal hands extended sideways, his head tilting toward the horizon.

Far in the distance, every Primordial Beast stirred, answering a command unspoken yet irresistible. One by one, their enormous forms ascended into the air, grotesque shadows blotted against the sky. On the head of one beast, a cloaked, shadowy figure clung desperately to its horn, until her grip faltered. She slipped, her masked face splitting red fluids that fell like scarlet beads, before she crashed toward the earth.

Now all the beasts floated as if their colossal weight was but an illusion, their size nothing more than a mockery to deceive the eye. Like iron pulled by an unseen magnet, they converged, drawn toward their Monarch. Threads of purple lightning burst forth, each crackling cord chaining the beasts to him. Together, they locked into position, forming a grotesque sphere of living flesh, enclosing their master at its heart.

"Roooorrrr! Roooorrrr!" Their cries tore through the sky, not words, but screams of agony. Pain itself howled, shattering the air. Nyxander abandoned shielding his face from sand, stone, and flying debris, and instead clamped his palms over his ears. Yet still, the monstrous wails stabbed into his skull.

Then, BOOOOM! From the sphere's crown erupted a massive column of blinding blue light, piercing upward, roaring into the galaxy as if bearing a sinister mission, an oath of annihilation against the innocent stars themselves.

Nyxander still watched the beam of light piercing through the heavens, tearing across the galaxy like a divine spear, his hands pressed tightly over his ears against the violent hum it carried. But suddenly, a fleeting image of Lunara flickered through his mind, sharp as lightning. His gaze snapped to the direction of his subordinates, his eyes widened.

There, Karl, Kola, and Theodric clutched their chests in agony, their faces twisted as though invisible chains strangled their very souls. Beside them stood a shadowy figure, and crimson drops spilled around her feet, dripping endlessly like a bleeding night.

In the blink of an eye, the torment ceased. The three gasped, raising their heads in confusion, only to see Nyxander behind the shadow. With a swift, decisive strike, the edge of his right hand cut into the phantom's nape, knocking her out cold. He caught her collapsing form before it touched the ground, one arm steadying her at the waist.

"You can stand," Nyxander's voice cut through the haze, steady yet firm. "I've already created a barrier. The heavy energy won't breach us now."

Karl and the others stumbled forward, relief struggling with disbelief. Then, before their very eyes, a thin line split across the shadow's form. Slowly, like molten mercury sliding away, the disguise peeled back, revealing Lunara's unconscious body in Nyxander's arms. Her shadow slithered onto the cracked ground, reshaping itself until it mirrored her figure exactly.

"What… what?!" Theodric stammered, his voice trembling. "What we saw… was her shadow all along?"

Their astonishment trembled in the air, but Nyxander's voice brought them back to steel. "Retreat. Now."

"What about you, boss?" Karl asked, his tone laced with both worry and defiance.

"No." Nyxander shook his head, his gaze hard as stone. "Someone must remain to hold that back." He raised his right thumb, pointing over his shoulder toward the floating, spherical Fletch, a looming storm of destruction.

"But boss, we..." Theodric began, guilt and desperation clashing in his throat. Yet before the words could escape fully, Kola's hand pressed onto his shoulder, steady as iron.

Theodric turned to him, but Kola only shook his head. "It's no use," he said softly, yet each syllable struck like a hammer. He then looked to Nyxander, voice deep with resolve. "Boss… please return to us unshattered."

Karl lifted Lunara onto his back, her figure fragile as if woven from glass. Together, the four stepped back, their footsteps heavy with unwilling resolve. Yet Theodric, ever the restless storm among them, couldn't resist glancing over his shoulder again and again, his rebellious eyes burning with guilt and longing as the distance grew.

"We need to go," Kola urged, voice low but firm. "If we linger, we'll only drag him down."

For a long heartbeat, Theodric resisted, then finally turned, his defiance folding into grim silence as he followed the others.

Nyxander stood alone now, watching their silhouettes fade into the horizon. His lips curled in the faintest of smirks, though his eyes were sharp as steel, unyielding, unbroken.

Meanwhile, far away, at the border gate of the Enerath Clan, two colossal figures lingered in the shadows. Their sheer presence bent the air, dominion dripping from them like an unseen crown.

"Bol," one rumbled, voice echoing like distant thunder. "Did you see that light?"

"Yeah," Bol replied, his tone grim. "Must be one of the beasts at work."

"Beasts, maybe," the first muttered, a weight of suspicion in his tone. "But doesn't it feel… different? Don't you think what I'm thinking?"

Bol's lips curled into a faint grin. "Sure. We've been sitting here all day anyway. Let's take a walk. A little sightseeing won't hurt."