FREE USE in Primitive World

Chapter 330: Chapter 330: Meeting Zeyra In The Battlefield

Zeyra ripped her blades free, her chest heaving, sweat plastering her dark hair to her forehead. She was exhausted, pushing the very limits of her Layer 0 reserves, but her dark eyes were burning with an obsessive, untamed fire.

She was incredibly strong for her age. The sheer density of the flames surrounding her proved she was standing on the absolute precipice of breaking through to Layer 1. She was undoubtedly the strongest warrior in her batch of newly awakened youth.

But the battlefield was an unforgiving teacher.

As Zeyra was busy violently immolating an unranked beast in front of her, the chaotic din of the battle masked a subtle, deadly shift in the air pressure directly behind her.

A Layer 1 Omen-Blood Ghost-Mantis… a terrifying, highly specialized stealth beast whose exoskeleton naturally bent light to render it nearly invisible… had bypassed the front lines. It looked as it had materialized out of thin air just three feet behind Zeyra’s exposed back. Its massive, razor-sharp scythe-arms raised high, aimed directly at her neck to sever her head in a single, silent stroke.

Zeyra didn’t sense it. She was entirely focused on the beast in front of her.

By the time Zeyra’s instincts screamed a warning, it was too late. She turned her head, her eyes widening as she saw the distortion in the air and the glint of scythes mere inches from her face. She couldn’t raise her daggers in time. She braced for the end.

Whoosh.

A gust of wind tore through the space between them. And suddenly, a hand shot out from the swirling dust. Of course, It was Sol, his grip was like an immovable vise of solid iron. He didn’t bother using a weapon. He simply caught the mantis directly by its thick, armored throat with a single hand, stopping its lethal momentum dead in its tracks.

The sudden, violent intrusion of a massive physical force right behind her made Zeyra spin around in shock, her hands flaring in defensive posture.

But the posture died instantly as she registered the scene.

Sol was standing there, completely ignoring the chaotic battle raging all around them. The towering, horrifying Ghost-Mantis was dangling helplessly in his grip, its scythe-arms scraped desperately against the Badger armor covering Sol’s forearm, but they couldn’t even leave a scratch on the silver-gray surface, its six legs kicking wildly in the air as it choked.

Sol looked past the struggling monster in his hand and locked eyes with Zeyra.Despite being completely covered in the grime, dust, and viscera of a hundred slaughtered beasts, his silver-crimson eyes were calm, bright, and utterly unbothered.

He flashed her a bright, effortlessly charming smile.

“Hey,” Sol said, his voice entirely calm, as if they had bumped into each other in the market rather than the middle of a beast tide. “Long time no see.”

Zeyra’s jaw went slack, her dark eyes wide. “Sol… you…”

The Ghost-Mantis shrieked, thrashing violently, its sharp mandibles scraping against Sol’s forearm in a desperate bid to free itself.

Sol didn’t even look at the beast. “Don’t mind it,” he said casually, his tone dripping with dismissive arrogance.

Without breaking eye contact with Zeyra, Sol casually tightened his grip and gave his wrist a sharp, effortless flick.

CRACK.

The sickening sound of the Layer 1 beast’s thick, armored cervical spine snapping was loud and crisp. The Ghost-Mantis went entirely limp, its life extinguished in a fraction of a second by pure, overwhelming physical strength. Sol didn’t even bother absorbing its essence. He tossed the massive corpse aside like a discarded piece of trash.

Zeyra opened her mouth. Her heart was hammering against her ribs so violently she thought it might crack her sternum. She wanted to say something. She wanted to thank him, to throw herself at his feet, to scream his name.

But before a single syllable could leave her lips, the chaotic tide of the battlefield surged again. A pack of Essence Born wolves crested the pile of corpses to their left, howling for blood.

“Stay sharp, Zeyra,” Sol commanded, the playful amusement instantly vanishing from his face, replaced by the cold, lethal focus of the Vanguard.

He didn’t wait for her response. He spun on his heel, his balde flashing out of its sheath. He drifted away from her like a phantom, launching himself directly into the incoming pack of wolves.

The sapphire arc of the Sky-Render flashing brilliantly in the gloom, severing heads and limbs as he drifted away, Within seconds, he was gone, swallowed up again by the relentless meat grinder of the frontline.

Zeyra stood perfectly still amidst the carnage, the blood dripping from her bone daggers entirely forgotten.

She stared at Sol’s retreating figure as he carved his way through monsters that would have required an entire squad of veteran hunter to bring down.

Her dark eyes, usually so calculating and sultry, were wide, possessing literal stars in them. Her chest heaved, her breathing ragged, but it had nothing to do with the exhaustion of the battle.

It was absolute, overwhelming awe.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, entirely ignoring the adrenaline of the battle, consumed instead by a potent, overwhelming obsession.

The dark, possessive hunger that had driven her to his room that night hadn’t faded, it had merely been waiting for justification. And watching him single-handedly catch a Layer 1 beast by the throat and crush it while casually making conversation… that was all the justification she needed.

Her resolve to get him, to claim the strongest man in the Great Orrath as her own, solidified into an unbreakable, burning pillar within her core.

Over the past few days, Zeyra had not been idle. The humiliating rejection in his quarters had burned her pride to ashes, but from those ashes, a terrifying work ethic had been born.

She realized that cheap scents, sheer silks, and political manipulation meant absolutely nothing to a man who held Lord Blood spirit. If she wanted to stand beside a god, she couldn’t be a weak, manipulative politician. She had to become a monster herself.