FREE USE in Primitive World

He was the apex.

The ultimate predator.

The recruits stared at him with wide eyes, their fear momentarily forgotten in the face of his overwhelming presence. This was the man they had sworn to follow. This was the force they wanted to become.

Sol’s voice cut through the silence like a blade.

”Get up.”

The three hundred young warriors rose as one, their movements fueled by a burning, death-defying determination.

Spears were gripped. Shields raised. Jaws clenched. Their eyes blazed with the resolve to die if they had to... to charge into the jaws of death itself for the man who had given them hope.

Sol raised the Dreadwing Blade high, the sapphire edge gleaming like a divine artifact.

His voice boomed across the barren flats, passionate and commanding, echoing like thunder.

”CHARGE—!”

The recruits steeled themselves, adrenaline flooding their veins like liquid fire.

Their hearts pounded wildly.

Their muscles tensed to the limits.

They prepared to charge toward the enemy horde with everything they had, even if it meant death.

Their young faces twisted with fierce, suicidal courage as they took their first step forward —

”—BACKWARD!”

The word hit them like a slap.

The entire group came to a sudden, chaotic halt. For a split second, confusion flashed across their faces. Then they understood.

They turned around and ran with all they got.

The three hundred young warriors sprinted backward toward the mountain pass like their lives depended on it... which, in a way, they did.

Their feet pounded the gravel, kicking up clouds of white dust as they fled in a disorganized but desperate wave.

Some laughed breathlessly in relief.

Others shouted with wild energy, the adrenaline still pumping through their veins.

...

Seeing them running, the enemy got even more passionate and charged faster.

The Coalition army... a massive tide of Zerith stalkers and Gray Marauder raiders... roared with savage triumph as they saw the ”desperate” Veynar force suddenly turn tail and flee, after seeing their numbers and momentum.

Their war cries shook the plains like thunder. Spears and axes which were raised high waved wildly, as they surged forward in a frenzied wave, thinking they had frightened the weak Veynar humans.

”After them!” a Marauder bellowed, his voice carrying across the battlefield. ”Don’t let a single one escape! Slaughter them all!”

The Gray Marauders laughed like madmen, their heavy feet pounding the earth as they accelerated. Even though they weren’t fast, the distance between the two forces closed rapidly due to the vast difference in strength.

The Coalition warriors were hardened veterans, many of them Layer 2 and Layer 3 elites, while the Veynar ”force” in front of them looked like nothing but a ragtag group of young, exhausted recruits.

They got even further agitated.

”Faster! Faster!” a Marauder leader roared, ”Look at them run like scared rabbits! We’ll crush their spines and drink their blood before the sun sets!”

The Zerith hissed with manic glee, their multi-jointed limbs clicking rapidly as they sprinted behind the marauders.Their orange eyes glowed with revenge, bloodlust, imagining the glory and rewards they would receive for wiping out this pathetic remnant.

The distance shrank faster and faster.

To the enemy, it looked like a complete rout. The Veynar were broken. Desperate. Fleeing for their lives.

The Coalition warriors could already taste victory. Their blood boiled with excitement. Their steps grew heavier, faster, more aggressive as they charged towards them like a swarm of locusts ready to devour everything in their path.

They had no idea they were sprinting straight into the mouth of the butcher’s shop.

Sol glanced back once, his silver-crimson eyes cold and satisfied as he watched the enemy close the distance.

Perfect.

He turned and continued running with the recruits, his pace casual and controlled, leading them deeper into the pass where the real slaughter awaited.

...

The Coalition army charged like a mindless tide of death.

Thousands of Zerith stalkers and Gray Marauder raiders roared with savage bloodlust as they saw the ”broken” Veynar force suddenly turn tail and flee. Their war cries shook the plains like thunder.

The recruits were running as fast as their young legs could carry them, but the combination of fear, exhaustion, and the uneven terrain of the barren flats took its toll.

The ground was a treacherous maze of cracked clay, loose gravel, and sharp limestone shards that jutted out like broken teeth.

Every step was a gamble. Their lungs burned. Their legs felt like lead.

Sweat poured down their faces, stinging their eyes.

The adrenaline that had fueled their initial sprint was starting to wane, replaced by the brutal reality of their bodies giving out.

One of the younger boys near the back suddenly tripped on a broken piece of limestone, his foot catching in a crack. He went down hard, tumbling across the gravel with a pained cry. His spear flew from his hands, clattering several feet away as he skinned his knees and elbows on the rough stones.

”Be careful!” Sol shouted.

But it was too late.

A few more kids behind him stumbled over the fallen boy in the panic, creating a small pile-up.

Three more recruits fell, their spears clattering against the stones as they scrambled desperately to get back up.

One girl cried out as she twisted her ankle, another boy got his leg tangled in the fallen bodies, and a third simply froze in terror as the thunder of enemy footsteps grew louder behind them.

The Coalition warriors saw the weakness immediately and howled in response.

A group of fast Marauder raiders... about twenty Layer 2 elites... broke from the main horde and rushed forward with savage glee, axes raised and war cries echoing across the flats.

They were faster, stronger, and smelled blood.

Their heavy movement pounded the ground like war drums. Their faces were twisted with bloodlust, eyes gleaming easy kills.

The distance between them and the fallen recruits closed rapidly, the gap shrinking from one hundred fifty paces to one hundred thirty, then one hundred twenty, in mere heartbeats.