FREE USE in Primitive World

The moment they were out of sight, her authoritative, regal demeanor shifted.

That signature, laid-back, wicked smirk spread across her full lips.

“You’ve been avoiding my grove, Divine One,” Zephyra murmured, stepping completely into his personal space. The heavy scent of crushed lotus and burning sage immediately hit his senses, bringing back a flash of vivid, highly explicit memories.

“Well…I’ve been busy consolidating my core,” Sol replied smoothly, not backing away an inch. He let his eyes drop deliberately to her neck.

The heavy bone necklaces she wore perfectly covered the dark, bruised bite marks he knew were still fading there. “And giving you time to recover. I wasn’t exactly gentle.”

“I thought maybe I broke you for good.”

Zephyra let out a rich, throaty chuckle, completely unfazed by his bluntness. “You certainly tried your hardest, you absolute monster,” she whispered back, her eyes trailing down his chest to linger on the scar.

Her playful demeanor shifted slightly, replaced by something hushed and almost fearful. She looked up into his eyes. “But that is why I sought you out. Sol… I don’t know what kind of bizarre, alien power this body of yours possesses. But when I woke up the morning after you left… the overdraft was gone.”

“Gone?” Sol raised an eyebrow.

“Fully. Completely,” she breathed. “The storm spell I cast on the watchtower… it fractured my very foundation. My pathways were practically cracked glass. Normally it should have taken me months, maybe years of sitting in my room just to stop my meridians from leaking essence.

But after… that night… whatever you pumped into my meridians when you… unleashed yourself… it didn’t just break my mind with pleasure. It forcefully restructured my pathways. My pathways aren’t just healed. They’re reinforced. I feel stronger than I did before the siege started.”

She reached out, her delicate fingers brushing lightly against the hard muscles of his chest. “Whatever you pumped into me… it is a miracle, Sol. Or a curse. I can’t tell which. But it had acted like a supreme, flawless healing elixir.”

Sol kept his face a mask of casual indifference, but internally, his mind was doing tactical somersaults.

He looked inward, sinking his focus into the hollow space in his chest. The silver “Free Use” liquid resting above his Sun Core wasn’t just sitting there anymore.

After consuming Zephyra’s massive, Shamanic essence during their exchange, the silver liquid had grown thicker, more viscous.

It pulsed with a heavy, terrifying vitality.

He realized that it wasn’t just him benefitting, it seems like it had a positive effect on his partners too.

Maybe Zephyra’s condition was too extreme or maybe the power itself had gotten stronger after the breakthrough, but the effects were much more prominent now.

If it was true, then that power was a supreme, two-way dual-cultivation cheat.

When he used it aggressively, it violently broke down the target’s physical and mental barriers, turning them into a compliant vessel.

But when used right, the feedback loop… the exchange of fluids and essence… didn’t just drain the target. It “patched” them.

It used the target’s body to refine Sol’s power, and in return, the silver energy reinforced the vessel to ensure it didn’t break under his brutal pace.

It was a perfect symbiotic relationship that benefited both parties.

“Well, what did I tell you, I’m gonna heal you.” Sol lied smoothly, flashing her a dark, hungry grin. “I told you it clears the pathways. Don’t be a stranger, Zeph. I might need a ’refresher’ course soon. My body is very special, so this much is nothing.”

Zephyra’s lips twitched, fighting a smile. She knew he was full of shit, but she didn’t care. The results were undeniable. She pressed her hand flat against his chest.

“You are a very dangerous man, Sol,” she whispered, her eyes heavy with a renewed, simmering heat. “With this impending war… I expect you to return to my pavilion. For a follow-up appointment. To ensure my pathways remain… perfectly clear.”

“Of course, it will be my supreme pleasure,” Sol promised darkly.

He gave her a slow, lingering look before stepping back out of the alcove, leaving the High Shaman flushed and highly distracted as he resumed his walk toward the forge.

She also pulled back, the regal, untouchable persona of the High Shaman clicking back into place as a patrol walked by.

Sol just chuckled and kept walking toward the forge.

…

Sol navigated the noisy, heat-blasted alleyways of the artisan district. The Veynar didn’t understand the concept of metal or iron smelting; their entire forge was a massive, semi-enclosed courtyard where craftsmen used specialized bone chisels, tanning salts, and glowing beast cores to shape the bio-materials of the jungle.

He bypassed the main central furnaces and headed straight for the back, where a secluded workshop was tucked into a natural hollow of a massive, ancient root.

The walls inside were lined with the pristine skulls and perfectly polished carapaces of monsters that Sol didn’t even recognize.

Standing over a central wooden table, squinting at a thick plate of dark, iridescent biomatter, was Teshar.

The lean, wiry craftsman looked exactly as he had a week ago… in his late 40s, his skin a map of fine scars, wearing a grease-stained apron. As always, he didn’t bow, nor did he offer the Veynar salute. He just kept running his rough fingers over the edge of the carapace.

Sol stepped fully into the room, feeling excited for his new armor.

“You’re late,” Teshar rasped, his voice sounding like dry leaves skittering over stone. He didn’t even look up. “The essence in these plates doesn’t like to sit around once the ice-toad venom has been applied to the seams.”

“I was held up by the High Shaman,” Sol said, pulling out a heavy wooden chair and sitting down.

Teshar snorted, his demeanor instantly shifting back to the arrogant, superior craftsman. He looked Sol up and down, his eyes squinting hard as he felt the heavy, dense air vibrating around Sol’s body.