Birth of the Ruler: The Emergence of the Primordial Race

The restaurant remained engulfed in an unnatural silence. Not a whisper, not a breath dared to break the thick, suffocating tension that now hung in the air like a looming storm. Nyxander stood still, his presence commanding, his very being a focal point of impending conflict. Behind him, Kal, Bako, and Bili mirrored his stance, their muscles taut with anticipation.

The once-tossed shield now lay embedded deep into the solid restaurant floor, its thick, battle-worn edge piercing through the shattered remains of the wooden table like an unspoken warning. All gazes were drawn upward, to the second floor of the building where three towering figures loomed, their forms etched against the dim glow of the daylight.

The man at the center, clearly the leader, stood with the poise of an apex predator. His skin, blackened and thick from years of battle, bore the deep scars of countless confrontations. His broad chest, slick with sweat, gleamed beneath the flickering daylights, the braided strands of his long plated black hair resting against his back like the cords of an executioner's noose. He stood with arms folded across his chest, his expression carved from stone, unreadable. Behind him, his two subordinates stood at attention, fists clenched at their sides, their stance rigid, prepared.

Kal leaned in slightly towards Nyxander. "That's Kola in the middle, and his men stand behind him," Kal whispered, his words barely more than a breath against Nyxander's ear.

Nyxander did not react immediately. Instead, his sharp, piercing eyes locked onto Kola's, burning with an unspoken intensity. Then, in a voice laced with quiet authority, he spoke.

"I came here to offer you an opportunity, to join my team peacefully, without forcing me to take… unnecessary measures."

His right hand lifted, his index finger pointing toward them, a gesture that was less an invitation and more a declaration.

"But it seems by your actions, you've already made your choice."

His gaze flickered sideways toward Kal, a subtle smirk curving the edge of his lips.

"Since our hosts have been generous enough to offer us a gift, it would be impolite not to accept it, wouldn't you say?" His voice, devoid of emotion yet laced with something chilling, sent a shiver through Kal's spine.

Kal understood the command immediately. Without hesitation, he surged forward, the air around him rippling with raw energy. The thick tension shattered as his movements sliced through the stillness. His body propelled through space with practiced precision, his boots pounding against the ground before he leaped, his left hand catching the edge of the second floor's wooden guardrail.

With the fluid grace of a seasoned warrior, he swung himself upward, his right hand already reaching back for the axe strapped across his back.

Kola's reaction was instantaneous. Without so much as a moment's hesitation, his once crossed hand, extended outward, striking his own men in the chest. The impact sent them flying backward, their bodies crashing into tables and chairs with bone-rattling force. The second floor erupted into chaos, customers screamed, chairs scraped against the floor, dishes shattered as panicked civilians scrambled toward the staircase, desperate to escape the impending battle.

Kal, unfazed, wasted no time. He steadied himself, his left hand gripping the wooden railing, his feet resting on the very tip of the second-floor ledge. His axe sliced through the heavy silence, the blade carving a thin line through the air as it hurtled toward Kola's throat.

Kal evaded it . With a swift backward leap, he dodged the attack, his movements calculated, controlled. The blade of the axe missed by mere inches, slicing only through the empty air where his neck had been moments before.

Kal's left grip on the guardrail tightened. He shifted his stance, his muscles coiling like a tightly wound spring. Then, with a forceful push, he launched himself fully onto the second floor.

His axe, now gripped with both hands, pulsed with raw, untamed energy as he poured his immortal energy, imbued the axe frame. The weapon responded, glowing faintly as power surged through it.

Kola met the challenge head-on. His fists clenched, his knuckles whitening as he too summoned his immortal energy. The air around his hands crackled with an unseen force, his muscles tightening like coiled steel. Without hesitation, he charged.

The ground trembled beneath them as the two warriors closed the distance.

Kal struck first, his axe carving through the air in a deadly sweep. Kola countered, his left fist, hardened with immortal energy, meeting the blade head-on. The collision sent a gust of wind spiraling outward, rattling the remaining furniture, shaking the very structure of the restaurant.

Neither gave an inch. Kal pressed forward, his axe grinding against Kola's fist, but Kola held firm, his strength an unshakable wall. Then, with a swift motion, Kola's right fist shot forward, aiming for Kal's chest.

Kal reacted instantly. With swift reflexes, he raised his axe's rod, intercepting the strike just in time. The force of the impact sent both warriors sliding backward, their boots scraping against the wooden floor as they momentarily distanced themselves.

They stood there, mere feet apart, breathing heavy, eyes locked in silent understanding.

The restaurant had turned into a battlefield, its once-lively interior now a graveyard of splintered wood and shattered plates. Patrons scrambled over overturned tables, some vaulting out of windows, others shoving through the entrance in a desperate attempt to escape. The owner, a man who had likely never lifted a weapon in his life, stood frozen in the doorway to his kitchen, his trembling hands flailing uselessly. His lips parted, his chest rising and falling in panicked gasps, but no sound escaped him. It was as if his voice had abandoned him in sheer terror.

At the ground floor, amidst the chaos, Nyxander remained seated, exuding an eerie calm. He rested his left leg over his right knee, fingers tapping idly on the wooden armrest of his chair. His sky-blue eyes, like a predator waiting for the inevitable, flickered with intrigue as he hummed, a sound low and thoughtful.

Bako and Bili, standing nearby, tore their gazes away from the violent clash above to glance at their leader.

"It seems the pill I gave Kal was used on both of you," Nyxander mused, his tone unreadable. "For someone as naturally unrefined as he is, he must hold you two in high regard, like family." His voice carried an undertone of something else, perhaps amusement, perhaps curiosity.

Bako exchanged a glance with Bili before inhaling deeply, as though drawing courage from the very air itself. "Hah," he exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Actually, Bili, Kal, and I… we all started as friends. We were originally at the level of the Immortal Realm. But because Kal was a bit sharper than us, we made him our leader. As our leader, most of the resources that came our way naturally went to him. It was our way of ensuring that he grew stronger so he could lead us properly."

He hesitated, his voice laced with something between admiration and regret. "That decision pushed his strength far beyond ours, allowing him to reach the mid-Ascendant Realm while we remained in the mid-Immortal Realm. And then, after your absence yesterday, we had planned to do the same, offer him whatever resources we had to help him advance further. But he… he saw it coming."

Nyxander tilted his head slightly, his interest piqued.

Bako continued, his tone lowering. "Out of guilt, he didn't argue with us. He didn't want to draw our attention. He waited… waited for us to let our guard down." A humorless chuckle left his lips. "And when we did, he tied both Bili and me to wooden chairs and forced the pills down our throats."

Nyxander's smirk widened ever so slightly, though his gaze remained sharp.

"That's how we broke through to the Initial-Ascendant Realm," Bako finished, shaking his head as though he still couldn't believe it himself.

Up on the second floor, Kal and Kola clashed once more. Kal gritted his teeth, stretching his axe to the right, gripping it tightly. The gap between them was shrinking, vanishing in mere heartbeats. Then, like a serpent striking, he swung. The axe's edge cleaved through the air, its gleaming steel aimed straight for Kola's throat.

But Kola was faster. With a swift, practiced motion, he bent his upper body backward, narrowly avoiding the blade. The axe's momentum carried Kal forward, his body twisting slightly, leaving him momentarily exposed.

Down below, Nyxander's golden eyes widened ever so slightly. Even Kal himself, in the thick of it, realized what was happening. A familiar sequence was unfolding before him, one he had witnessed before.

Kola wasted no time. His right fist shot forward, aimed directly at Kal's unguarded abdomen. The air around his knuckles seemed to ripple from the sheer force of the impending strike.

But Kal who had also familiar with this move. With lightning reflexes, he loosened his grip on the axe handle, allowing it to slide down through his folded hands. Then, with perfect timing, he tightened his grip once more, closer to the axe's head, using the weapon's thick shaft to intercept Kola's strike.

A dull thud echoed through the room as fist met steel. Kola staggered back, his dark eyes flashing with momentary disbelief. He had not expected his attack to be stopped so smoothly.

Kal exhaled sharply, sweat trickling down his brow. "You must be one of our boss's admirers." His voice was steady, but his breaths came quick and heavy. "But you should know..." he lifted his axe, leveling it between them, "...that tricks like that won't work on someone who serves under him."

Their gazes locked, two warriors measuring each other, two beasts fighting over the right to rule the same territory.