FREE USE in Primitive World

Chapter 259: Chapter 259: Conductor Of Apocalyptic Symphony

Sol watched the macro-level war situation rapidly changing from his elevated, secure vantage point just inside the tree line. It was an epic, chaotic masterpiece of violence, a painting of pure survival rendered in red and green.

The remaining enemy lackeys were incredibly fierce. They possessed higher individual cultivation layers in many cases, and their bloodlines were naturally geared toward massive, sweeping attacks.

A single Layer 2 Silver-Backed Badger, cornered against a shattered tree stump, roared and swung its massive claws. The blow carried the kinetic force of a wrecking ball, easily crushing twenty rusted-red soldier ants into an unrecognizable paste in a single, devastating swipe.

But the ants simply didn’t care about casualties. They didn’t feel fear, they didn’t feel hesitation, and they certainly didn’t care about individual preservation. They were extensions of the Queen, and the Queen only cared about the objective.

When that Badger slammed its paws down, pulverizing a dozen ants, fifty more immediately scrambled directly over the crushed, leaking corpses of their own sisters or maybe brothers.

They launched themselves fearlessly onto the massive mammal’s back. They tore at the sensitive eyes, bit deeply into the soft, unarmored cartilage of the ears, and sprayed concentrated formic acid directly into the open, bleeding wounds.

The Badger thrashed wildly, howling in agony as it tried to shake the parasites loose, but it was already too late. From the churning sea of red, a massive Layer 2 Obsidian Commander vaulted forward.

It brought its superheated scythes down in a brutal, guillotine execution, cleanly severing the distracted Badger’s spine and sending its massive head rolling into the mud.

The Dreadwings in the air fared no better against the relentless swarm.

The agile, multi-winged insects tried to gain altitude, desperately seeking to escape the ground swarm and rain their lethal acid from the safety of the clouds. But the ants had anticipated this vertical retreat.

Massive Obsidian Commanders launched themselves from the high, sturdy branches of the remaining Void-Oaks that ringed the valley. They obviously didn’t fly, they simply used their immense, hydraulic-like leg strength to turn themselves into biological, surface-to-air missiles.

A Layer 2 Commander would slam into a rising Dreadwing mid-air with bone-shattering force. Its superheated scythes would bury deep into the insect’s gorgeous sapphire thorax, locking them together.

The sheer, combined weight of the massive ant would stall the Dreadwing’s ascent, sending them both crashing back down into the churning red sea below. The very second they hit the ground, thousands of soldier ants instantly swarmed the grounded flyer. They pinned its legs, dismantled its delicate, crystalline wings joint by joint, and ripped its armored underbelly apart before it could even attempt to recover.

It was a mesmerizing, horrifying display of quantity possessing a quality all its own. The Badgers and Dreadwings had the higher layers, the superior individual strength, and the more versatile elemental abilities. But the ants had the numbers.

For a long while, an epic, evenly matched war raged across the valley floor.

Every time a Dreadwing successfully carpet-bombed a grid, melting hundreds of ants into hissing green puddles, a fresh wave of rusted-red armor poured over the ridge to replace them instantly. Every time a Great Badger hardened its fur into indestructible stone and waded into the swarm like a juggernaut, the ants would completely bury it beneath a literal hill of bodies, weighing it down until it suffocated under the crushing mass of chitin and acidic spray.

“This is absolutely incredible,” Sol breathed, feeling a profound, terrifying thrill racing through his veins, making the hairs on his arms stand on end.

It was his first time witnessing a war of this sheer, mythic scale. He had read about vast fantasy battles in NovelFires, he had played strategy games that simulated massive armies, but feeling the earth literally shake beneath his boots, smelling the metallic tang of thousands of dying beasts, and watching the visceral, unedited reality of the Great Orrath’s food chain was something entirely different.

And the most intoxicating part of it all? He wasn’t just a spectator hiding in a bush, desperately hoping the monsters wouldn’t notice him anymore.

He was the conductor of this apocalyptic symphony.

He was an active participant, wielding an army of thousands of hyper-lethal biological weapons with nothing but a thought. He sat comfortably on the broad, spiked back of his Ant Commander, completely insulated from the horrific dangers of the deep woods by a literal, moving wall of elite bodyguards. His Queen rested securely nearby, managing the micro-tactics of the swarm with flawless efficiency, all tethered to his absolute will.

It was a massive, astronomical upgrade from running for his life through the mud just twenty-four hours ago. The progression was staggering.

Sol let out a long, relaxed exhale, the tension bleeding out of his newly healed shoulders. He casually reached into his leather belt pouch, bypassing the pure Blood-Jade, and pulled out a thick strip of heavily salted, dried essence-meat. He took a generous bite, chewing slowly and methodically as he watched a squad of his ants skillfully drag a screaming, half-melted Badger into the underbrush.

He washed the jerky down with a long swig from his waterskin, the cool water soothing his throat. He sat cross-legged on the carapace of his terrifying mount, completely at ease in the center of purgatory, enjoying the absolute, tyrannical feeling of commanding an apex army that parted the jungle like the sea.

Down in the valley, the ants continued killing and being killed. Despite the fierce resistance of the Badgers and the aerial bombardments of the Dreadwings, the sheer math of the battlefield heavily favored the hive. The ants were taking massive losses… hundreds were dying every minute… but there were simply too many of them. The enemy lackeys were drowning in a sea of mandibles.

But even as his legion systematically butchered the remaining forces on the periphery, Sol’s silver-crimson eyes were fixed squarely on the true prize in the center of the valley.

The duel between the Lords was escalating to terrifying new heights, completely oblivious to the massacre happening around them.