FREE USE in Primitive World

Chapter 245: Chapter 245: VIP Pass Through Hell

But it wasn’t the eggs that made Sol’s skin crawl, it was what had hatched from them.

Sol could literally see the dark, curled-up shapes of the larval ants twitching and developing inside the fluid.

Writhing blindly over the egg clutches were thousands of pale, fleshy grubs. They were horrific, pale, segmented worms, also known as larvae, each the size of a large dog, possessing no legs, only a massive, gaping circular maw lined with tiny, hooked teeth.

They lacked the hard chitin and legs of the adults, consisting only of a blindly thrashing, bloated body and a horrifying, circular mouth filled with rasping, needle-like teeth.

They writhed blindly over one another in a massive, wriggling pile, emitting high-pitched, wet squeals that set Sol’s teeth on edge.

Gods above, Sol thought, a wave of profound revulsion washing over him. I am never, ever complaining about spiders in my bathroom again.

Scuttle-scuttle.

Two caretaker ants, possessing slightly thinner mandibles and distended abdomens, were moving among the grubs. They were vomiting a thick, glowing green slurry… likely the chewed-up meat they had harvested from the larder… directly into the gaping mouths of the writhing larvae.

Sol needed to cross this room to reach the deeper tunnels, but the caretakers were actively patrolling the floor.

He took a deep breath, suppressing his disgust. He couldn’t avoid them.

He slipped from behind the root, moving with terrifying speed. He targeted the first caretaker, isolated near a cluster of eggs on the far wall. He flooded his legs with essence and launched himself silently across the soft, webbed floor.

He grabbed the ant’s head with his bare left hand, his Golden Liquid granting him the strength of a hydraulic press, instantly clamping its mandibles shut to prevent it from screeching. In the exact same fluid motion, he drove his bone knife upward, sliding the blade cleanly between the plates of its underbelly and piercing its core.

He lowered the massive, dying insect gently to the floor to prevent a thud.

The second caretaker turned, its antennae vibrating wildly as it sensed the sudden lack of its partner’s pheromones. It spotted Sol, a stark, dark figure standing amidst the pale, glowing eggs.

Its mandibles opened to release a high-pitched alarm hiss.

Whoosh. Sol didn’t even step forward. He simply hurled his heavy Void-Oak spear like a javelin.

The obsidian blade crossed the cavern in a fraction of a second, carrying the absurd, crushing kinetic force of Sol’s full strength. It struck the caretaker dead center in its open mouth, pinning the massive insect violently to the earthen wall behind it. The spear vibrated with a low hum, the ant instantly dead, completely silenced before it could make a single sound.

Sol quickly jogged over, wrenched his spear free from the wall, and wiped the acidic blood off the obsidian blade onto the webbed floor.

He stood in the center of the writhing, squealing nursery, completely surrounded by the grotesque, pulsating heart of the colony’s future. The heat was unbearable, and the sheer alien wrongness of the environment was beginning to weigh heavily on his mind.

He looked at the four different tunnels leading out of the nursery, all descending deeper into the suffocating blackness.

I’m getting lost, Sol realized. His Crimson-Sight only showed him the immediate thermal environment, not the layout of a labyrinth that likely spanned for miles in every direction. The architecture is three-dimensional. They build up, down, and laterally. If I took the wrong path, I could end up wandering these dark, humid tunnels for days until I starved, or until I stumbled into a barracks filled with thousands of resting soldier ants.

He needed a map. He needed a guide.

As he moved ahead, his eyes locked onto a lone, rusted-red scout ant that was separated from the main group of caretakers. It was a Layer 1 Essence-Born, currently busy grooming its antennae near the edge of the tunnel entrance, completely isolated from the others.

Sol didn’t reach for his spear. He didn’t ready his muscles for a physical strike.

A highly dangerous, entirely reckless idea blossomed in his mind.

He stepped out of the shadows, revealing himself perfectly to the scout.

The giant ant instantly froze. Its faceted eyes locked onto the bipedal intruder. Its mandibles parted, the acidic sacs in its abdomen clenching to release a warning pheromone scream that would alert the entire nursery.

Now.

Sol didn’t use the heavy, physical gravity of his Golden Liquid. Instead, he tapped deep into the center of his chest, into the cool, ethereal reservoir of his Silver Liquid… the evolved, absolute manifestation of his ’Free Use’ Domination power.

He didn’t project it outward as a physical shockwave. He focused it into a single, needle-thin beam of pure, tyrannical metaphysical authority, shooting it directly from his mind into the primitive, instinct-driven neural cluster of the ant.

SUBMIT.

The command wasn’t a suggestion. It was a violent, absolute override of the creature’s biological coding.

The scout ant went rigid. The chemical scream died in its throat before it could even be voiced. Its mandibles snapped shut, and its aggressive posture instantly collapsed. To the primitive, hive-mind connected brain of the insect, the human standing before it suddenly ceased to be an intruder or prey.

The connection was formed. It was infinitely smoother and more profound than his control over the jaguar or the mantises. The Silver Liquid bypassed the ant’s formidable essence resistance entirely, violently rewriting its loyalties. Sol became its Queen. He became its god.

Sol let out a quiet breath, wiping a line of sweat from his temple. Controlling a Layer 1 insect was surprisingly taxing in this pheromone-heavy environment, but the link was secure.

He stepped forward, standing directly in front of the massive, rusted-red ant. He didn’t speak aloud; he pushed his intent through the Silver thread connecting their minds.

Take me to the Queen. The shortest, safest path.

The ant’s antennae twitched in terrified, absolute reverence. It slowly turned around, its jagged legs clicking softly against the floor, and bypassed the writhing sea of larvae, leading Sol into a completely unassuming, narrow tunnel hidden behind a massive, petrified root.

The guided tour of the abyss had begun.

The hijacked scout was a VIP pass through hell. It navigated the dizzying, three-dimensional labyrinth with perfect, instinctual precision. It led him down spiraling, vertical shafts that Sol would have never recognized as paths. When they approached areas heavy with patrolling soldier ants, the scout would emit a specific sequence of chemical pheromones that signaled “all clear,” allowing Sol to slip through the shadows undetected while his guide acted as a localized camouflage.

They descended deeper and deeper. The ambient heat became absolutely blistering. The air grew so thin and saturated with primal essence that Sol felt like he was breathing hot soup. The walls of the tunnels were no longer just packed earth; they were lined with veins of raw, unrefined essence crystals that glowed with a deep, pulsing crimson light.

Finally, after an hour of terrifying, silent descent, the narrow tunnel abruptly ended.

Sol stepped out from behind his controlled scout and felt the breath completely leave his body.

He had found it. The Royal Chamber.