Birth of the Ruler: The Emergence of the Primordial Race

Nyxander stood firm, his right hand buried casually in his pocket, an air of quiet composure settling over him like an unshaken mountain against the howling storm. His gaze, sharp and unwavering, remained fixed on Lumina's shadowed face, where flickers of pain and fury danced beneath the dim station lights.

Her bowstring trembled, drawn taut with the weight of emotion, an arrow of luminous energy shimmering at its peak, aimed with deadly precision at his throat.

Beside them, Beorn shifted restlessly, his eyes darting between the two, the weight of the moment pressing down like an anvil on fragile glass. His hands twitched slightly, poised to act, yet uncertain how to intervene without igniting the smoldering tension further.

The air was thick, heavy with unspoken words, with emotions teetering on the precipice of eruption.

"Was our meeting also part of your plan?" Lumina's voice trembled, a fragile blend of rage and sorrow, each syllable laced with betrayal.

Beorn furrowed his brows, confusion clouding his features. "Huh? What plan?" he interjected, still desperately trying to grasp the situation unraveling before him.

Lumina didn't spare him a glance. Her gaze remained cast downward, shadows concealing the storm raging in her eyes.

"Ask your friend."

At that moment, Beorn's attention snapped toward Nyxander, his breath held in anticipation.

Nyxander exhaled, a deep, measured sigh that carried the weight of inevitability.

"Yeah," he admitted, his voice steady, unflinching. "Our meeting wasn't a coincidence. But following me… that was always your choice. I never manipulated your feelings, Lumina. My feelings toward you were sincere."

He had barely finished before her voice cut through the air like a whip.

"Keep quiet."

Meanwhile, from a distance, three figures stood as silent spectators to the unfolding drama, Dunstan and Seraphina at the forefront, while Centric lingered a few steps behind them, his presence shrouded in unreadable intent.

Seraphina took a step forward, her instincts urging her to intervene, but Dunstan's firm grip on her wrist held her back.

"You need to let them talk this through," he murmured, his voice low but resolute. "Going there now will only make things worse."

Seraphina hesitated, torn between reason and impulse. Though she barely grasped the depth of what was happening, she relented, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.

Then came a sinister laugh, low and drawn-out, creeping through the air like an omen.

Both Dunstan and Seraphina turned sharply toward Centric, who now stood grinning, his amusement barely contained.

"Oh, forgive me," he said, wiping a nonexistent tear from his eye. "I simply couldn't hold it in any longer."

Seraphina's expression darkened, her jaw tightening, while Dunstan, though composed, held a shadow of irritation in his gaze. The silent exchange between them carried an unspoken warning, but Centric merely chuckled.

"Well then, I'll be taking my leave." With that, he turned, striding away without another glance.

Back at the center of the storm, Lumina's voice rose again, trembling yet unwavering.

"Who really are you?"

Her question rang out, raw and unfiltered.

"For you to orchestrate a situation where the Astro Lord himself had no choice but to seek you out. To watch the highest authority lose his composure, to see Hung, known for his dominance and eloquence, stumbling over his own words, sweat dripping down his face… just from speaking with you."

Her grip on the bow tightened. Her breath hitched.

"Who… are… you?" she demanded, her voice rising to a near scream.

Nyxander met her gaze, unwavering. "I admit that I set the stage for this meeting," he said, his tone neither defensive nor apologetic. "But as for their reactions… that is something even I did not foresee."

Tears welled in Lumina's eyes, slipping down her cheeks like silent confessions.

"Fine," she whispered, her voice carrying the weight of something irreparable. "If this is how it's going to be… then from now on, we don't know each other."

With those final words, the glow of her bow dimmed, the weapon dissolving into golden embers that faded into her being.

Nyxander took a step forward. "Lumina, please. Trust me. My feelings for you are real."

She didn't stop. She turned on her heel, her steps brisk and final.

Just as Nyxander moved to follow, Dunstan appeared before him, a silent wall of resolve. Seraphina was already at Lumina's side, lending her quiet support.

Dunstan's gaze burned like a flame held under control, yet the heat of it was unmistakable.

"I've been thinking for a while now," he said slowly, his voice quiet yet firm. "I finally remember where I've seen you before. You were the one who appeared incognito the other night… in my territory."

Nyxander remained motionless, unreadable. Then, in a tone devoid of concern, he replied, "And?"

Dunstan's gaze did not waver. "I don't know what kind of relationship you two had. And frankly, I don't care to know what happened between you. But from this moment forward, stay away from her."

He turned back toward Lumina and Seraphina. "Let's go."

Without another word, the three of them walked away, their figures growing smaller until they vanished beyond the station's pathways.

Nyxander stood still, watching until they disappeared completely.

Beside him, Beorn exhaled, rubbing his temples. "Well… that was a mess."

But Nyxander said nothing. His gaze lingered on the empty space where Lumina had stood moments ago, an unreadable expression shadowing his face.

"We should also leave now," Beorn said, stepping closer to Nyxander.

"Hmm, that's true," Nyxander replied, his voice distant, as if his mind was still trailing behind.

With that, they began their journey back, weaving through the winding paths of the station. The streets were alive with murmurs of evening chatter, merchants haggling over prices, and the rhythmic clatter of horse-drawn carriages rolling across the stone-paved roads. The last golden embers of daylight slowly faded, surrendering to the cool embrace of dusk.

Beorn, after a moment of silence, glanced sideways at Nyxander. "Do you mind telling me about the deal?" he asked, his voice light, but carrying both curiosity and caution.

Nyxander's gaze remained fixed on the road ahead, though the image of Lumina still lingered in his mind like an echo refusing to fade. "Nothing much," he finally responded. "It was simply to create a fifth team. My only condition was that it remain independent. The Astro Lord agreed."

Beorn furrowed his brows, contemplating Nyxander's words. "Then what did Lumina mean by 'staging' it? How does that connect to your plan?"

Nyxander exhaled lightly. "Do you remember the time I came to your rescue at the Current Station Supporting Agencies Office?"

Beorn nodded instantly. "Of course, vividly. That was when you turned those thugs into your subordinates."

"Exactly," Nyxander continued. "Before I devised that strategy, I recalled what you told me about those thugs. That they were given free rein to extort shops in the business district, with the understanding that they would assist station officials during times of difficulty. I saw an opportunity within that corruption.

"So, I made a bet." Nyxander's voice carried a hint of amusement now. "I deliberately subdued the three strongest thugs at Aqua Astro Station, knowing that word would inevitably reach the highest station authorities. And when it did, they would have no choice but to ask me to handle the rest. It was a simple equation: turn chaos into structure, give them an additional armed force while simultaneously dismantling an illegal system. A necessary gamble."

Beorn let out a low whistle. "No wonder the other Astro Leaders were shaken. Even the Astro Lord himself and Hung, his right hand, both of whom are mid-Celestial Realm powerhouses, were caught off guard. Their voices skipped, Nyxander. Skipped."

Nyxander quirked a brow. "Mid-stage Celestial?" He stopped walking briefly before glancing at Beorn. "Can you tell me more about these realms?"

Beorn halted as well, looking at Nyxander with mild disbelief. "Are you sure you're from the Celestial race? You don't even know about the celestial realm?"

Nyxander offered no response, his silence carrying an air of quiet ignorance, as though ashamed to admit what he did not know.

Beorn sighed, shaking his head before explaining. "Alright, listen carefully. There are five major realms of power. The first is the Immortal Realm, the initial stage of transcendence. Then comes the Ascendant Realm, followed by the Celestial Realm. Beyond that lies the Divine Realm, and at the very peak…" He paused for effect. "The False God Realm for immortals, or the God Realm for those of the Saint race."

Nyxander nodded, absorbing the information.

"Each realm," Beorn continued, "is divided into three stages, Initial, Mid, and Peak. The higher you ascend, the more unfathomable the power difference becomes. Advancing through these stages is no simple feat.

"I see…" Nyxander mused, his mind threading through this newfound knowledge.

By now, night had fully descended, blanketing the streets in a velvety darkness, broken only by the golden glow of road lamps flickering to life. The low hum of conversation carried through the air, merchants packing up their wares, travelers settling in for the evening, and the ever-present whispers of the unseen moving through the shadows.

Suddenly, Nyxander came to a halt.

Beorn, noticing the abrupt stop, turned to him. "Is something wrong?"

Nyxander shook his head slightly. "Not at all. I need to meet with my subordinates."

Beorn studied him for a moment before offering a nod. "I see. Well then, thanks for your company today."

Nyxander gave a slight wave as he turned toward the heart of the business district, his figure soon blending into the shifting silhouettes of the bustling night.

Beorn exhaled softly, then resumed his own path home, his thoughts lingering on the man who walked away.