FREE USE in Primitive World

Chapter 137: Chapter 137: The New Predator In The Eastern Zone (Christmas Extra)

The evening air of the Eastern Zone didn’t just feel cool; it felt like a liberation. As Sol moved further away from the hollow iron-bark tree where Vurok’s cooling corpse lay, he felt a physical lightness that was almost intoxicating. It was as if a massive, jagged stone that had been strapped to his chest for years had finally been unchained, sinking into the forest floor and leaving him to breathe—truly breathe—freely.

The “Modern Sol” was a fading echo, a ghost of a man who belonged to a world of ethics, safety nets, and moral hand-wringing. The “Cripple Sol” was even more distant, a memory of a victim who had been successfully buried in the soot and rot of that tree. What remained was something new, something forged in the dark laboratory of the Western fringes and baptized in the blood of his enemies.

He moved through the dense, vibrant foliage with a leisurely, cat-like stride. He wasn’t hiding. He wasn’t slinking. He was simply walking.. He had discarded the heavy, matte-black scales of the Obsidian-Cobra hide, draping it over his shoulder like a nobleman’s cape. He wanted the evening wind to touch his skin; he wanted to feel the vibration of the forest without the dampening effect of the armor. He wanted to hunt freely.

…

The Eastern Zone was not a place for the hesitant. It was a vertical landscape of predatory efficiency, and Sol was eager to test his limits and get more experience. He hadn’t walked half a mile before the first threat registered in his Charcoal-tinted vision.

From the corner of his eye, he caught a ripple in the bark of an ancient iron-bark tree. A Dagger-Mouth Lizard. These creatures were roughly the size of a Komodo dragon, but lean and whip-cord fast, their scales a shifting mosaic of grey, brown, and moss-green that allowed them to vanish against the trunks of the iron-bark trees.

They were unique among the forest’s predators; they didn’t bite. Their evolution had gifted them with teeth that jutted out sideways from their jaws like serrated obsidian daggers. They would run along the vertical planes of the trees at eye-level, using their momentum to slash the throats of anything passing beneath.

High above, a Dagger-Mouth shifted, its claws clicking softly against the bark. Sol didn’t look up. He didn’t break his rhythm and kept a steady pace. He simply whistled a low, hauntingly cheerful tune, his Charcoal eyes tracking the heat signature of the lizard through his peripheral vision.

The lizard launched. It was a silent, scaly blur. It dropped from the ten-foot height in a diagonal arc, its serrated teeth aiming directly for Sol’s carotid artery.

Sol didn’t move his feet. At the last possible millisecond, he simply leaned his head back with a sharp, fluid jerk. He felt the cold wind of the lizard’s passage. The beast’s lateral teeth missed his throat by less than an inch. The wind from the lizard’s passage ruffled his hair. While the creature was still in mid-air, Sol’s hand shot out with the speed of a striking viper, his fingers locked onto the lizard’s thick, muscular tail.

“Got you,” Sol whispered, his voice a low, terrifying hum.

He spun on his heel, using the lizard’s own falling momentum against it With a grunt of controlled power, spinning in a circle before slamming it into the same tree it had jumped from with a sickening THUD.

The lizard let out a wet, wheezing hiss as its ribs shattered. It scrambled to right itself, its dagger-teeth clicking in a frantic, instinctive defense. Sol watched it for a moment, his expression one of bored amusement. He reached down and gripped the lizard’s head, his thumb pressing into a soft spot behind its eye.

“You’re built for the ambush,” Sol murmured, his voice a low, terrifying hum. “But you’ve forgotten how to fight when the prey looks back.”

CRACK.

The lizard’s skull shattered with a sound like a wet gourd breaking. Grey-green ichor sprayed on his hands. But Sol wasn’t done. He caught a second ripple on the opposite tree. Another one.

The second Dagger-Mouth lunged from behind. Sol didn’t turn. He ducked low, letting the second lizard sail over his head, and in one continuous motion, he drove his bone dagger upward. The jagged blade caught the lizard in the soft underbelly, zipping through its scales as if they were wet parchment.

SQUELCH.

The lizard landed in a heap of its own entrails, twitching rhythmically. Sol stood up, wiping a smear of blood from his cheek with a cold indifference.

He felt the Ash-Gray energy in his palm begin to pulse, a dark, primal hunger and this time he didn’t waste the energy.

“Let’s see what you’re made of,” Sol whispered.

The energy flared, tendrils of smoky grey light wrapping around the lizard’s twitching body. Sol felt a rush of cold, oily power travel up his arm… the Soul Power of the lizard. It wasn’t as potent as the Cobra, but it was sharp and fast. He felt his own reflexes tighten, his perception of movement sharpening.

Sol reached down and snapped off its largest lateral tooth… a jagged, black obsidian shard. He tucked it into his pouch. Proof of the kill.

And then, did the same with the first one, feeling even more refreshed.

He wiped the grey-green ichor from his palm and kept walking, his whistle picking up exactly where it had left off.

…

He moved deeper into the clearing, toward a grove of spear-tipped grass, where he found Blue-Neck Striders. These birds were a masterpiece of biological aggression. Eight feet tall, flightless, and covered in feathers that were as sharp as iron shavings. Their most striking feature was their vibrant, neon-blue neck, which pulsed with a deep, rhythmic thrumming sound. Their primary weapon was a massive raptor-like claw on each foot… a curved blade of bone capable of caving in a wooden shield or disemboweling a man in a single, explosive kick.

Three of them emerged from the grass, hissing in a discordant symphony of territorial rage.

Noticing him, the leading Strider hissed, its feathers bristling with a sound like a hundred knives being drawn. It didn’t hesitate. It lunged, its powerful legs eating up the distance in a blur of motion.

Sol didn’t draw his dagger. He wanted to feel the weight of this world’s “vitality” against his own.

The Strider threw a kick… a horizontal lash of its claw aimed at Sol’s midsection. Sol stepped into the strike, a move that would be suicide for a normal hunter, his forearm meeting the bird’s shin just above the claw. The force was immense, enough to shatter a normal man’s arm, but Sol’s reinforced bones, didn’t even creak.

He grabbed the bird’s leg and yanked. The Strider let out a panicked squawk, flapping its useless wings, with a roar of dark laughter, Sol heaved the five-hundred-pound bird over his head and threw it into the second Strider.

THUD. CRACK.

The two birds tangled in a mess of blue feathers and snapping bones. The third Strider, undeterred, and driven by instinct and territorial rage, lunged towards him. Sol pivoted, his hand catching the bird’s long, elegant blue neck in a crushing grip. He could feel the frantic, hot thrumming of its life-force beneath its skin.

He leaned in, his face inches from the bird’s sharp beak. “Such a pretty color,” Sol murmured, his Charcoal eyes glowing with a psycho-edged warmth. “Let’s see how it looks when it turns purple.”

He squeezed hard. The Strider’s eyes bulged, its beak snapping air as its nervous system short-circuited. It jumped around, trying to push him off like an angry bull, but he held it there, watching the life flicker and fade, savoring the intimacy of the kill. The Strider’s blue neck turned a bruised, necrotic purple before it went limp. He dropped it like a piece of discarded trash.

He looked at the remaining two birds, both struggling to disentangle their broken limbs. He walked over to the one with the shattered wing and, with a leisurely motion, brought his heavy boot down on its skull.

CRUNCH.

And then moved to the remaining one, using his fist this time to attack its head.

CRACK. THUD. SQUELCH.

Within seconds, the grove was silent. He stood amidst the carnage, the evening sun casting long, skeletal shadows over the dead. Without wasting much time, he absorbed their soul power too and took out his bone dagger and carefully sliced a strip of the vibrant blue skin from their necks, as a proof, before continuing forward.