FREE USE in Primitive World

Chapter 187: Chapter 187: Kira’s Grief & Resolve

Kira’s breath hitched. The name seemed to catch in her throat, something she didn’t want to be let out. She tried to swallow, her throat working visibly, but the grief was already clawing its way up.

“H-he… his name was Korg,” she whispered. Her voice trembled, the control she had been fighting so hard to maintain beginning to fray at the edges. “He was a Pillar of the Veynar. One of the most powerful warriors in the tribe. He… he was the one who taught me how to track my first feline spirit. He was like a brother to half the tribe. Everyone… everyone respected him.”

She stopped, her eyes unfocusing as memories flooded her. She probably saw him laughing by a communal fire, or showing her the proper way to sharpen a bone dagger, or standing tall against a previous breach.

Sol’s memory palace… that new, crystalline library in his head… replayed the scene with brutal clarity. That was the con of having a good memory, wanting to forget but could not. He saw the golden light of the Bear being shredded. He saw the heart being ripped from the chest. He saw that tragic, knowing smile.

“He shouldn’t have died.” she choked out, the words tumbling out in a frantic rush. “At least not like that. He was… he was Korg, there’s no way he would ever die.” She looked at him with a forced smile. “Don’t worry, he’ll definitely come back with his annoying silly smile. He likes to play jokes, it must be one of his pranks too. I mean…he is Korg, there’s no way he would die.”

She tried to take a deep breath, to be the stoic warrior her tribe demanded, but her eyes began to flood. She tried to blink the tears away, her hand flying to her face to wipe them, but it was like trying to stop a dam with a handful of sand.

A single tear tracked a clean line through the blood on her cheek, followed by another, and then a flood. She squeezed her eyes shut, her face contorting in an agony that was purely human.

She let out a small, broken sob, followed by a torrent. She doubled over, her hands clutching her stomach as if she’d been stabbed. She tried so hard to be the warrior, to be the “stone-hearted,” but the sadness was a tide that didn’t care about rank or pride.

Seeing this, Sol felt a pang of genuine, human pain. In his past life, he was someone who lived through screens. He watched tragedy for “entertainment,” and always dismissed them as being overly dramatic. But standing here, in the cold Orrath forest, the smell of blood still on his skin, he felt the emotions that no tragedy has ever been able to create.

He stepped forward, crossing the remaining distance in two silent strides. Before Kira could pull away or apologize again, Sol reached down and pulled her up into his arms.

He didn’t do it with the smooth grace of a seducer or with some degenerate reason. It was simply a clumsy, heavy motion.

“Let it out,” Sol said, his voice a low rumble against the top of her head. He wrapped his arms around her, shielding her from the cold wind of the ridge. “Cry. It’s okay to cry. There’s no one here to see you but me. No one will know. No one will say a damn thing.”

She stiffened instantly, her warrior instincts screamed at her to push him away, to draw her blade, to maintain the distance. But Sol didn’t let go. He held her with a strength that was unyielding, his chest a solid wall of warmth against her trembling frame.

She weakly tried resisting, but the warmth radiating from Sol’s body was intoxicating. And more importantly, he felt… safe. In a world of double-jaws and poison nails, he was the only solid thing she had left.

The resistance lasted for all of three seconds.

Kira collapsed against him, her hands clutching the shimmering white fabric of his tunic, her fingers digging into the dense muscle of his back. She buried her face in his chest and let out a scream that wasn’t a scream… it was a heartbreaking, primal wail of pure loss. It was the sound of a girl who had watched her hero be torn to pieces, a girl who was tired of being strong in a world that only wanted to kill her.

She cried for Korg. She cried for the brothers she had watched be torn apart. She cried for the terror of the Breach and the cold reality that her home was no longer safe.

Sol just held her. He didn’t offer platitudes. He didn’t tell her it was “all for the best,” nor did he tell her it would be okay, because he knew it wouldn’t be. He just stood there, an unyielding anchor in the middle of a silver forest, letting her tears soak into his celestial clothes.

As he stood there, his crimson eyes looking out over the silent, glowing forest, Sol felt his resolve harden into something cold and sharp.

I see now, he thought, his jaw tightening. The “Overlord” dream… it’s not just about the harem or the stone palace. It’s about having the power to make sure this doesn’t happen.

He thought of the Grey Brutes and their double-jaws. He thought of the Yellow Stalkers and their poison nails.

If I’m going to be a “Divine One,” Sol vowed silently, his grip on Kira tightening just a fraction, then I’m going to be the kind of God who burns the monsters out of the jungle. I’m going to build a world where girls like her don’t have to sob into a stranger’s chest because their heroes were treated like meat.

He looked at the shimmering fabric of his tunic… a gift from a goddess who had been banished who knows where.

“I’ve got you,” Sol whispered into Kira’s hair.

She didn’t answer, her body racking with the final, exhausted tremors of her breakdown. But she didn’t pull away. In the dark, glowing Orrath forest, surrounded by the ghosts of a hundred warriors, Sol felt like the only solid thing she had left.

Eventually, the sobs turned into ragged gasps. Kira didn’t move for a long time, her face still buried in his chest. The silence returned to the forest.

After what felt like an eternity, Kira finally pulled back, her face a mess of tears and dirt, but the frantic edge in her eyes had been replaced by a weary, hollow calm. She looked at Sol’s tunic/// now ruined by blood, dirt, and her own grief.

“I… I ruined your clothes,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

Sol looked down at the shimmering white fabric and shrugged. “It’s just a dress, Kira. I can always get another one.”

He reached out and wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle for a man who was being so hardcore with Nia, Evara and Isylia.

“Can you walk?”

Kira took a shaky breath and nodded. She reached for her bone sword, ensuring it was secure. The “warrior” energy slowly returning to her posture, though it was tempered now by a heavy, somber weight. She didn’t take his hand, instead pushing herself up with her own strength.

“Yeah. I can walk. My tribe isn’t far. We need to reach the perimeter before the Stalkers catch our scent.”

She looked at him, her stormy eyes searching his crimson ones. There was something different in the way she looked at him now… the suspicion was still there, but it was buried under a layer of profound, silent debt.

“Thank you, Sol. For… everything”.

She looked back toward the ridge, and face paled again. She thought of the warriors left behind… the hundreds of brothers and sisters being ripped apart to keep the Breach from spreading.

“We need to move,” Kira said, sheathing her hand but keeping her guard up. “The attack is being pushed back by the Brave Warriors of our tribe, but the forest is still crawling with stragglers. If a pack of Stalkers catches us out here without my legs fully charged, we’re done.”

“Where are we going?” Sol asked.

“To my tribe ,” she said, pointing toward a cluster of massive trees in the distance. “The Elders must want to see the man who fell from the sky. And trust me, you want to see them too. And you won’t survive a single night in Orrath without a Clan’s protection.”

“But listen to me, ’Sol’… if that’s even your name. The Veynar don’t welcome strangers, If elders think you’re a threat to the tribe, be prepared for the worst.”

Sol chuckled, a dark, melodic sound. “I’d be disappointed if they really welcomed a complete stranger.”

She turned and began to trot through the silver-leafed forest, her movements still possessing that feline grace, though she was clearly tired.

Sol followed her, his mind already working. Even though he didn’t know how or why was he here, but looking at the trees and peoples, it was clear that he definitely not anywhere near the Osari tribe, it was a place with powers like phantoms, other races and… his monologue paused, as he could sense a strange power in the environment, especially concentrated on phantom around Kira’s legs.

I need to learn how they summon those phantoms, Sol thought, an ambition beginning to simmer in his mind.

They began to move through the strange fantasy forest, the glowing moss lighting their way. As they walked, the trees began to thicken, revealing a sight that made Sol stop in his tracks.