FREE USE in Primitive World

Chapter 240: Chapter 240: Chaotic Three-way War

Instantly, the clearing was transformed into an apocalyptic meat grinder, a literal hellscape of chitin, fur, and corrosive fluids.

The Dreadwings, finally realizing they had flown directly into a meat grinder, shrieked in panic. Free from the friendly-fire restrictions of their own tightly packed horde, they also unhinged their mandibles and unleashed massive, continuous torrents of neon-green acid.

The radioactive rain fell upon the hive. Hundreds of ants were instantly melted into hissing, bubbling foul puddles of sludge, their carapaces dissolving under the horrific toxicity.

But the ants were entirely, terrifyingly unfazed by casualties. They didn’t feel fear, they only felt the imperative to protect the nest. They swarmed the massive insects through the acid rain. Their iron-like mandibles sheared through the delicate, translucent crystal wings of the Dreadwings with sickening crunches, grounding the aerial bombers instantly.

Once a Dreadwing hit the dirt, it was buried under a writhing mound of black and red armor, the ants vomiting their own corrosive, orange-black fluids directly into the gaps of the Dreadwings’ stone armor.

As more and more time passed, the vibrations of the massive war drew the true horrors from deep within the subterranean anthill.

The ground in the center of the crater buckled and caved in. From the depths, massive, heavily armored commander ants emerged… monsters that possessed their own Omen-Bloodlines.

Several terrifying Layer 2 variants pulled themselves into the light. They were the size of small armored cars, their carapaces a deep, polished obsidian, and their jagged mandibles literally glowed with a terrifying, dark red heat that sizzled the damp air.

These Layer 2 ants didn’t just bite, they clamped their superheated mandibles onto the grounded Dreadwings, instantly melting through the stone armor and bisecting the massive insects in a spectacular shower of sparks and boiling, neon blood.

Then, the final piece of the chaotic puzzle arrived.

The tree line exploded in a shower of splintered wood and pulverized ferns as the Layer 2 Great Badgers broke through. They were foaming at the mouth, their eyes bloodshot with a berserker’s rage.

Being hyper-aggressive, fiercely territorial mammals that possessed absolutely zero chill and an inherent hatred for anything that wasn’t a badger, they didn’t pause to assess the tactical situation. They didn’t care that the Dreadwings were technically their allies in the chase against Sol.

They saw a chaotic battlefield absolutely crawling with giant, disgusting bugs, and they went completely, unapologetically berserk.

The Badgers indiscriminately attacked everything in sight. They roared, their silver fur bristling with dense, yellow earth essence that formed a shimmering coat of crystalline armor, and waded directly into the sea of ants. They tackled the massive Layer 2 commander ants, their essence-hardened claws tearing through thick chitin like wet paper. Simultaneously, they swatted “allied” Dreadwings out of the sky, crushing the insects’ crystal wings under their massive paws simply because the Dreadwings were in their way.

And so, a truly great, chaotic three-way war unfolded beneath Sol’s vantage point.

Initially, the invading Dreadwings and the Great Badgers, possessing superior individual bloodlines and high-tier, area-of-effect attacks, seemed to be gaining the upper hand. The Badgers were walking tanks, casually crushing tens of lesser ants under rock and claw, while the Dreadwings rained localized artillery strikes of venom from above.

But as the remaining bulk of the badgers and dreadwings herd poured into the crater, the sheer, unimaginable numbers of the ant colony began to violently balance the scales.

The ants didn’t have as many Omen-Bloods, and their individual physical power couldn’t match a Great Badger. But they possessed a weapon the mammals and the sky-terrors did not: absolute, fanatical, suicidal devotion.

This was their literal home. The nursery was below them. They fought without an ounce of self-preservation. When a Great Badger crushed a dozen ants, a hundred more would instantly swarm over its back, ignoring the dense stone spikes to bite directly at its eyes, its snout, and its joints.

They drowned the high-tier beasts in an endless, suffocating ocean of snapping jaws and melting acid, burying the mammals under the sheer, accumulated weight of their own dead bodies.

It was a meat grinder of epic, primordial proportions. The shrieks of the Dreadwings, the roaring of the Badgers, and the deafening clicking of the ants merged into a continuous, physical wall of noise. The air above the crater grew thick with the foul, choking stench of melting stone, burnt chitin, and vaporized blood.

As for what the Sol was doing?

He was lounging comfortably on his thick, sturdy branch, perfectly concealed by the broad, overlapping violet leaves.

He leaned his back against the purple trunk, let out a long, contented sigh, and pulled his leather waterskin from his belt. He uncorked it with his teeth, took a long, incredibly refreshing drink of the sweet, cool plant water, and wiped his mouth with the back of his glove.

He looked down at the apocalyptic, three-way war unfolding in the crater below. His Crimson-Sight picked up the massive, swirling thermal blooms of hundreds of beasts dying every single minute, their loose souls dissipating into the heavy air.

Sol crossed his legs, resting his Void-Oak spear casually across his lap. A deeply smug, incredibly cruel, and utterly satisfied smirk stretched across his handsome face as he watched a massive Layer 2 Badger get slowly, agonizingly dismantled by a swarm of a thousand super-heated ants.

“This,” Sol murmured softly to himself, raising his waterskin in a mock toast to the carnage below, “is exactly what you get for daring to surround the great Sol. Enjoy the eviction notice, you stupid bastards.”

He settled back against the bark, ready to enjoy the show. He was in no rush. He would wait for the three factions to completely annihilate each other, grinding their numbers down to a manageable fraction. And when the dust finally settled, and only the exhausted, battered survivors remained…

He would drop down and reap the absolute motherlode of essence and materials. The Great Orrath was brutal, but for a transmigrator who knew how to exploit the aggro mechanics, it was a paradise of free loot.