FREE USE in Primitive World

Tala signaled them to stop twice more within ten minutes.

Each time, Sol stepped ahead alone, executing the sentries with the same cold, mechanical detachment… one time using a three-inch draw of the sapphire blade to cleanly decapitate a lookout through the mist, and another time using a simple, heavy palm-strike to shatter the chest of a prowling scout.

With every single kill, he utilized the silver liquid to violently pull their core souls into his chest.

The internal disturbance grew with every drop of essence he absorbed. The silver liquid was no longer stagnant; it was waking up, thrumming with a cold, hungry vibration that seemed to heighten his natural perception of the jungle around him.

He could vaguely feel the positions of distant, hidden outposts miles ahead, the spiritual pathways of the entire forest mapping themselves out in his mind through the silver energy’s resonance.

But after dropping the seventh stalker, Sol stopped by a mossy log and looked back at the five spirit warriors behind him. The three leopard boys were watching him with wide, starry-eyed reverence, their chests tight with an adrenaline high, while Kira and Zeyra stood ready, their weapons clean.

“That’s enough free viewing,” Sol said, his voice casual but rough. “The closer we get to their main settlement, the faster we’ll need to clear the paths. If I’m the only one drawing blood, you won’t have a feel for the enemy’s weight before the main battle noon tomorrow.

The next squad we find, you five take them down.”

Torin blinked, his jaw tightening as he hit his chest armor. “We won’t let you down, General Sol! Just tell us where to strike.”

“Listen to me carefully,” Sol said, his silver-crimson eyes locking onto the three boys. “The Zerith stalkers are infamously slippery because their multi-jointed limbs allow them to change their direction mid-spring.

When a Veynar warrior launches a standard direct attack, he usually aims for their chest or their throat. That’s a mistake.

The moment they feel the air tension shift, they drop their hips and use their lower legs to launch themselves backward into the high branches.”

He pointed a thick finger at his own knee joint. “When you strike, you don’t aim for the head. The three leopard warriors… Torin, Bran, Kael… you use your speed to dive low.

You target their lower leg segments and their joint membranes with your bone-daggers. If you crack one of their three lower joints, their balance fractures completely, and they can’t spring.

Once they’re pinned to the wet dirt, their strength is less than half of yours. Kira will hold the high angles with her short-bow to pin down any that try to climb early. Zeyra, you stay behind the boys and make sure no one escapes.”

“Understood,” Kira said, a fierce, competitive light flaring in her pupils as she notched a heavy obsidian-tipped arrow.

Zeyra gave a short, quiet nod, her eyes still fixed on Sol’s face as she dropped into a low stance, her internal essence warming her limbs.

Tala twitched her ears, pointing through a gap in a massive petrified root-wall thirty paces ahead. “We have a three-man patrol coming down the hollow. They are tracking a small animal trail. They don’t smell any danger yet.”

“Go,” Sol commanded flatly, stepping back into the deep shadow of an ironwood trunk. “Show me how strong you really are.”

The five spirit warriors moved in perfect unison. Torin, Bran, and Kael didn’t try to show off by running ahead in a wild sprint; they followed Sol’s exact instructions, staying low in the fern-trenches and cycling their pathways with a tight, synchronized rhythm.

The three Zerith stalkers came clicking through the grey mist, their long bone-spears held loosely, their eyes rotating around slowly. They were completely relaxed, their minds sluggish in the damp dawn air.

TWANG!

The sharp, dry snap of Kira’s bowstring broke the silence of the hollow. A heavy obsidian-tipped arrow cut through the white vapor, driving straight through the shoulder-membrane of the lead stalker just as it lifted its foot to step over a log.

The impact didn’t kill it, but the force violently pinned its lanky upper body against a stump, keeping it from climbing.

“Now! Drop low!” Torin shouted through his teeth.

The three leopard boys exploded out of the ferns like three blurred shadows. They followed sSol’s advice and didn’t aim for the stalkers’ faces.

As they closed the distance, Torin and Bran slid hard through the wet mud, their bodies dropping flat to the earth as they drove their heavy bone-daggers straight into the lower knee-membranes of the remaining two scouts.

CRUNCH! SHUCK!

The sound of fracturing chitin and tearing tissue echoed through the hollow.

The two stalkers let out high-pitched, wet screeches of pure shock and pain as their lower joints were cleanly severed.

Their multi-jointed limbs buckled instantly, their lanky, seven-foot bodies collapsing face-first into the wet dirt, their bone-spears flying out of their hands.

They tried to use their upper claws to scramble into the high grass, but their balance was entirely ruined.

Before they could even torque their hips to crawl, Kael leaped over Torin’s shoulder, his heavy bone-knife driving straight down into the back of the second stalker’s head-shell with a dull, definitive thud.

The monster’s orange eyes went completely dull as its nerve-string was crushed.

The first stalker, still pinned by Kira’s arrow, tried to violently shake its torso to release itself, its mouth splitting wide to reveal rows of yellow needle-teeth as its lung-sac began to expand to sound the alarm horn.

Zeyra was already there.Even though she was technically weakest, her physical speed was completely stable. She lunged forward with liquid grace, her fingers wrapping around the stalker’s neck-chitin.

With a sudden, heavy surge of her mid-stage Layer 1 essence strength, she drove her weight downward, forcing the monster’s head straight into the thick, sour mud of the swamp hole, completely muffling its warning screech into a wet bubble of brown foam.