FREE USE in Primitive World

Chapter 188: Chapter 188: Mystical Orrath Forest & A Decision

The transition from the blood-soaked dirt of the breach to the depths of the Orrath Forest was like stepping from a nightmare into a high-budget fantasy flick.

Sol followed a few paces behind Kira, his bare feet sinking into a carpet of strange silver moss that felt more like velvet than vegetation. Every time his heel hit the ground, a faint ripple of sapphire light spread out from the point of impact, as if the forest itself was alive or something, that Kira explained was the forest “welcoming” a guest.

And despite being in a forest, He wasn’t limping or stumbling anymore. He strangely felt light, yet dangerously dense, like a coil of spring steel waiting for an excuse to snap. It was a strange experience.

As they walked, a soft, melodic murmuring filled the air. It sounded like a thousand distant conversations happening at once.

“Don’t be alarmed, Sol,” Kira said, without looking back. “That’s just the Singing Moss. It captures the echoes of the wind and replays them. In the deep Orrath, the voices can drive you mad, but here, our Priestesses have tuned them to play the songs of our ancestors.”

Sol listened carefully, and indeed, they had a rhythm to them, and the voices were haunting but peaceful, a background hum that made the Essence in Sol’s blood feel warm rather than volatile.

…

As for the trees?

They weren’t just big, they were simply massive. I mean the one near his tribes were massive too, but these seemed a different story. These were the ones he’d seen from afar before, their trunks easily sixty feet wide, rising into the canopy like the pillars of an ancient castle. The leaves were translucent, acting like organic prisms. Instead of shadows, the forest floor was dappled with dancing patterns of cobalt, emerald, and soft gold. Heck, even their bark was a deep, iridescent charcoal, but it was almost entirely covered by the lumen-moss… thick, pulsating mats of bioluminescent flora.

“Don’t stray from the path,” Kira said, her voice still raspy but regaining its sharp, authoritative edge. She didn’t look back at him, her eyes constantly scanning the vibrant greenery. “The forest looks peaceful, but the wards only hold if you stay within the ’vines’ of the Ancestors. It’s the only place where the forest doesn’t try to eat you the moment you stop looking.”

Sol looked at the “path.” It wasn’t a dirt trail. It was a literal network of massive, petrified roots that had been grown into a smooth, level walkway. It wound through the gargantuan trunks, elevated a few feet above the forest floor.

“You guys really managed the hell out of this place,” Sol muttered, his crimson eyes narrowed as he ’indexed’ the sights.

In his past life, he’d seen CGI forests in movies that tried to look magical, but they lacked the texture

, the beauty, the whole vibe. He could smell the scents now… not the rot and copper of the battlefield, but the smell of rain-drenched jasmine, crushed mint, something sweet and heavy, like fermenting peaches, and intoxicating scents he didn’t recognize.

“The Veynar don’t ’manage’ the forest,” Kira countered, her hand resting on the hilt of her bone-sword. “We harmonize with it. The Great Orrath is a living being. We clear the blight, we prune the rot, and in exchange, the forest hides our tracks and warns us of intruders.”

As if to prove her point, a choir of voices rose from the canopy. It wasn’t human speech, but it wasn’t just wind either. The leaves of the oaks… broad, silver-colored plates that looked like hammered metal… clattered against each other in the breeze. The sound was melodic, like thousands of tiny silver bells ringing in a complex, shifting harmony.

To Sol’s enhanced ears, it almost sounded like whispering.

Who is he? the bells seemed to chime.

Sol shivered. “Are the trees… talking?”

“They’re remembering,” Kira said softly. “They feel the resonance of your energy, and remember your presence, that’s how forests inform us whether you are an enemy or a friend. But don’t worry since you came with me, it is acknowledging you as a friend, you can easily come next time without worry.”

Sol was speechless, he thought the forest near his tribe was mystical enough, but it seems like only now he had really stepped into a fantasy forest.

Suddenly hearing a strange cry, Sol looked up. A flock of small, iridescent birds with long, ribbon-like tails were darting between the branches above them. Their feathers were translucent, shifting from violet to emerald as they caught the light of the lumen-moss. They didn’t seem afraid; they seemed curious, chirping in a frantic, rhythmic pattern that synchronized with the thrumming of the trees.

“Star-wings,” Kira noted. “It’s strange seeing them here, they usually only come out for the High Priests. You’ve got them all riled up.”

They passed a grove of giant, bell-shaped flowers that stood as tall as Sol’s waist. As they walked by, the flowers pulsed with a soft amber light and exhaled a cloud of shimmering pollen that tasted like honey on Sol’s tongue.

A small animal, looking like a cross between a red panda and a lemur, scampered across a high branch. Its fur was tipped with glowing white frost, and it paused to stare at Sol with large, intelligent gold eyes before letting out a playful whistle and disappearing into a hollow in the bark.

“This is a far cry from what the forest I was imagining.” Sol said, glancing back toward the ridge.

“This area is ’cleaned’,” Kira explained, her pace steady. “Our warriors patrol these woods every sunrise. They hunt down any stray Marauders that try to slip through, and the Shaman-Circle maintains the ward-stones. That’s why the air feels calm here. Otherwise, every little thing would have tried to eat you by now.”

Sol’s gaze drifted forward just as a group of large, white deer or deer-like creatures with antlers that looked like flowering cherry branches crossed the path ahead of them. Seeing them they didn’t bolt. They simply paused, acknowledged the duo with a slow blink, and continued their leisurely stroll into the glowing brush.

All in all, it was breathtaking. It was a paradise designed by a god with an unlimited budget. The colors shimmered, the silence was serene, and for a moment, Sol almost believed in the illusion of peace.

…

Yet beneath that beauty, his mind couldn’t stop thinking about the Bear-warrior, Korg. He couldn’t stop thinking about the double-jaws and the necrotizing poison.

This paradise is built on a pile of corpses, Sol thought, his crimson eyes glowing a bit brighter.

He looked at his hands. He thought about the “Memory Palace” in his head. He saw the blueprints for a water-filtration system. He saw the design for a repeating crossbow. Blueprints of various weapons. Knowledge from another world, another life. Tools that could change everything.

But as the designs shimmered in his thoughts, doubt gnawed at him. If I brought those things here… would I be helping this garden thrive? Or would I become the blight Kira warned about?

No one knew the right answer. But Sol did know one thing: he couldn’t simply scatter his knowledge across this land without first weighing its impact.

Because he already knew the answer from his past life. He had seen forests stripped bare for progress, rivers poisoned in the name of convenience, skies choked with smoke that no prayer could cleanse. Technology had always promised salvation, but more often it had carved scars into the earth that never healed.

He looked around at the jungle, it was alive in ways his old world had forgotten. Its canopy glowing with strange power, its roots humming with unseen life. To introduce steel, fire, and industry into this place might not be a gift… it might be a desecration.

And more importantly, he would not allow this world to become like the one he had left behind… pollution choking rivers, plastic lodged in human flesh, even the air itself poisoned with invisible toxins.

To hell with advancement, he thought bitterly. If the cost is the destruction of this beauty, then it’s better to let those technologies rot inside my mind.

The truth was, this world already had its own foundation. Magic-like power coursed through its veins, shaping beasts, forests, and even the phantoms that walked beside warriors. They did not need to lean on steel and smoke the way his old world had. Here, survival and progress could be written in mana, not machinery.

Sol’s crimson eyes narrowed as he exhaled, the jungle’s breath mingling with his own. For now, restraint was wisdom. He would watch, he would learn, and only when the balance was clear would he decide whether to plant seeds of knowledge… or keep them buried in the vault of his Memory Palace.

…

As they moved deeper into the Orrath, the “voices” of the forest grew louder. It wasn’t just the leaves anymore. The air itself seemed to hum, layered with sounds that felt less like noise and more like a chorus. He could hear the water… a distant, roaring waterfall that sounded like a choir of bass singers.

The fauna became even more exotic. He saw a ’Spirit-Hare’… a creature that seemed to flicker in and out of existence, leaving behind a trail of glowing footprints. A Lumen-Spider hung between two branches, weaving a web of pure, solidified light. The strands glowed with a steady brilliance, bright enough that Sol thought he could sit beneath it and read.

“If I had a camera…” Sol muttered under his breath, the words slipping out like a sigh.

“A what?”

“Nothing. Just an old memory.”