FREE USE in Primitive World

Ignoring the sea of trembling spears pointed at his back, Sol calmly wiped his dripping palms on his thighs and leaned down toward the ground.

Kira and Zeyra lay pinned down, their eyes wide, breath catching in their throats.

Sol knelt down before them, his movements languid and relaxed, entirely ignoring the thousands of armed enemies encircling him.

He reached out with his bare, bloodied hand, catching the edge of the coarse hemp rope binding Kira’s wrists. With a flick of his wrist, his fingers dug directly through the thick cordage, snapping the heavy ropes as if they were wet threads.

He reached up and gently pulled the cloth gag from Kira’s mouth.

Kira stared up at him, tears of relief and lingering terror breaking through the dust on her cheeks.

She tried to speak, her lips trembling, but no sound came out.

Sol smiled softly... a genuine, warm expression that looked entirely alien on a man whose body was painted in fresh human blood.

He reached out with his red-stained thumb and caressed her cheek, gently wiping away a tear while leaving a trail of wet crimson in its place.

”Wait here,” Sol whispered, his voice dropping to a soothing, velvet tone. ”I’ll be back soon.”

Kira let out a choked sob, simultaneously smiling with overwhelming joy and letting her tears flow freely as she nodded against his touch.

Sol turned his gaze to Zeyra, who was staring at him in wide-eyed bewilderment, her mind entirely incapable of processing how the dying man who was airborne seconds ago was now casually kneeling beside her.

He reached down, lightly unbuckling the twin bone daggers strapped to her hips.

”I’ll be borrowing these for a while,” Sol said with a faint tilt of his head.

Zeyra could only nod absentmindedly, her mouth slightly agape as he took her weapons.

...

Sol stood back up to his full height. The warm, gentle light in his eyes vanished instantly, replaced once more by the cold, monstrous neon-crimson glow of a predator.

He didn’t speak or roar. He simply turned toward the Coalition warriors and blurred once more.

SWOOSH!

What followed was not a battle; it was an absolute massacre.

A chorus of blood-curdling screams erupted from the lines of the Coalition army. Sol materialized directly in the dense ranks of the Zharun tribe like an asura.

Holding Zeyra’s twin daggers in a reverse grip, he moved with fluid, terrifying speed.

SLASH! CRACK! GUT!

A white blade flashed in a clean, horizontal arc, severing three throats in a single, fluid motion.

Blood sprayed across the limestone before the bodies even realized they were dead.

Sol spun around, ducking beneath a heavy bone club swing, and drove the second dagger straight up through the jaw of a Layer 2 Marauder warrior, the tip exploding out from the top of the man’s skull.

He pulled the blade free and thrust his bare hand forward, grabbing another soldier by the face and violently slamming his head into the ground with enough force to shatter the stone bedrock.

”Die, you monster!” a Zharun layer 3, barely catching his body shrieked with horror, driving an essence-infused spear toward Sol’s neck.

Sol didn’t even dodge. He caught the stone spearhead with his bare palm, snapping the hard flint tip off with his grip alone, and rammed the broken shaft directly into the captain’s eye socket.

SLURP.

Every time a warrior fell by his hand, the incredibly hungry soul-siphon authority embedded deep within his chest hollow engaged.

Invisible, violent streams of spiritual essence and raw life force poured out of the fresh corpses, swirling invisibly into Sol’s chest like water down a drain.

The Layer 4 soul he had gotten from Malphas had given him a massive, miraculous jump-start... welding his broken bones and restarting his dying heart... but it was far from enough to fully repair the deep, catastrophic internal damage caused by his earlier, reckless outburst of the Golden Dominion.

His internal pathways were still scarred, his essence channels burning with the strain of holding back the whole battlefield.

He needed more fuel.

He needed every drop of soul energy the enemy had to offer.

So, Sol carved a wide, bloody trench straight through the center of the Coalition’s ranks, leaving behind a horrific trail of severed limbs, crushed torsos, and gushing blood.

He moved with cold, mathematical precision, prioritizing the high-density groups of Layer 2 and Layer 3 warriors, harvesting their souls to patch the remaining fractures in his body.

...

”STOP HIM! YOU FOOLS, KILL HIM!”

The Zharun Chief’s voice cracked into a desperate, enraged screech as he watched his tribe’s remaining elite warriors get slaughtered like swine. His face was contorted into a mask of fury and rising panic. ”He is using some cursed evil power! Surround him! Do not let him go!”

”Get out of my way!” the Marauder Chief bellowed, his voice shaking the surrounding like thunder.

The twenty-foot giant was utterly livid.

The shame of seeing a half-dead, broken human ignore the grand presence of the Coalition warlords and wantonly butcher his men ignited a blinding, monstrous rage in his gut.

He lunged forward, his colossal body kicking up massive clouds of white dust, his massive bone club raised high above his head like a falling meteor.

”I will personally pulverize you into dust this time!” the giant roared, bringing the heavy weapon down with the full, crushing weight of his Layer 4 physical essence.

BOOM!

The ground exploded.

A fifty-foot crater opened in the center of the battlefield as the colossal club slammed into the ground, sending broken boulders flying in every direction.

But Sol wasn’t there.

Before the giant’s club even touched the stone, Sol had already stepped through the shadow of the falling blow, appearing thirty feet to the left amidst a cluster of Zerith spear-bearers.

SLASH! SLASH!

Two clean, blinding flashes of silver light severed four arms in a heartbeat.

Screams of agony filled the air as Sol plunged deeper into the panic-stricken ranks, using the enemy’s own massive numbers as a human shield against the slow, destructive sweeps of the giant Marauder Chief.

”Insolent pest!” Zerith Chief roared, his narrow eyes wide with a mixture of rage and cold, creeping dread. He sprinted along the flank, his dagger glowing with a dark, suffocating aura as he tried to intercept the black blur. ”Form up! Zerith troops, get a grip! Don’t let him split the ranks!”

”Catch him! Catch him!” the Zharun Chief screamed, firing dark, poisonous needles from his fingertips into the crowd, entirely unconcerned if he struck his own men in his frantic attempt to pin Sol down.

The other Layer 4 powerhouse of the Maraduer tribe also rushed towards him, swinging his massive axe.

The four Layer 4 powerhouses screamed orders, swung their weapons, and desperately tried to corner the berserk black reaper, their monstrous pressure shaking the entire battlefield.

Yet Sol didn’t care. He completely ignored the rage of the warlords.

He danced around their strikes with effortless grace, treating the entire Coalition army not as a threat, but as a vast, rich harvesting field.

Every blade swing was a soul claimed.

Every dead warrior was another fraction of his body repaired.

And with every passing second, as the blood pooled deep on the white limestone slate, the burning, neon-crimson light in Sol’s eyes grew brighter... colder... and infinitely more terrifying.

A.N: Guys month is almost ending, but we haven’t received a single super gift this month. *teary eyes* and our income last month had also been almost halved.

This month had been really tough, especially planning and writing these Chapters, it really drained me out, and not receiving any super gift has been really depressing.

So, I would really appreciate it if you guys could send some big gifts, and in return I’ll make sure to do a mass release.