FREE USE in Primitive World

Chapter 161: Chapter 161: Cosmic Rave Gone Wrong

Isylia waved her hand again, a casual, dismissive gesture that shattered the tragic image of the Stone-Bearer into a thousand motes of golden dust, like she was swatting a fly. The particles drifted away into the void, dissolving like a forgotten memory.

“Next,” she said, her tone bored but relentless, like a museum tour guide who had given the same speech for a billion years and hated every tourist, particularly the dumbass right in front of her right now.

Just like before, the scene changed instantly.

The crushing, gravitational weight of the Titan Realm evaporated, lifting a burden off Sol’s chest he hadn’t realized he was carrying. But damn, he barely had time to breathe before the air itself went feral. As it was replaced by something far more volatile.

The air in the Void Temple suddenly crackled. The hairs on Sol’s arms stood up. A cocktail of smells… acrid smoke, briny dampness, mineral dust, ozone and weird sterile light… flooded his nose, overpowering the scent of ancient dust.

Sol gagged, clutching his nose. “Holy shit. It’s like someone blended a volcano, an aquarium, a quarry, and a thunderstorm, then sprayed it with radioactive rainbow perfume. My sinuses are filing for divorce.

“Welcome to the Elemental Realm,” Isylia sneered, cutely wrinkling her perfectly shaped nose as if she smelled something rotting. “It is a beautiful, chaotic mess. A garbage dump of laws.”

“And by the way that is the scent of the realms, bug. Fire, water, earth, wind, and light. All bleeding into one another. A scent of chaos.” She smirked.

Sol coughed, waving his hand in front of his face. “Scent? Lady, this isn’t scent. This is a war crime. If you bottled this, you could wipe out civilizations. ’New fragrance by Isylia: Eau de Apocalypse.’”

Isylia tilted her head, confused. “Fragrance? Bottle? You mortals trap smells in jars now?”

Sol groaned. “Forget it. Just… keep talking before I choke to death on rainbow farts.”

“Okay, then let’s continue…”

The illusion around them exploded into a storm of vibrant, chaotic energy.

Sol looked around, his jaw dropping, so far it nearly hit the floor.

To his left, a waterfall of molten lava flowed upward

, defying gravity, reaching into a sky made of roiling fire. To his right, massive bubbles of air, each the size of a city, floated through an endless, dark blue ocean where giant currents moved like snakes. Above his head, islands made of solid, crackling lightning drifted in a purple void, tethered to nothing, arching bolts of electricity at each other in a silent, dazzling war.

“Holy hell.” Sol swore, “this looks like a drug trip designed by a lunatic god. Lava going up? Lightning playing tag? Did someone spike reality with acid? Or did the developer run off halfway through coding this shit with everyone’s money?”

Isylia pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering, “You are the most embarrassing mortal I’ve ever met. And I’ve met cave‑men who thought thunder was a fart from the sky.”

Sol jabbed a finger at the upward lava. “No, seriously, look at that! Lava’s supposed to go down. That’s the one rule lava has. And here it’s just… climbing into the sky like it’s late for work. That’s not lava, that’s a goddamn elevator.”

Isylia rolled her eyes. “It is the Fire Realm’s way. Upward flow symbolizes ascension, purification, rebirth—”

“Bullshit,” Sol cut her off. “That’s not ascension, that’s a suicide ride. Anyone who falls in there is toast. Literally toast. Burnt toast. And don’t even get me started on those lightning islands. They’re playing Pokémon battles in the sky while I’m down here trying not to piss myself.”

Above them, another bolt of lightning cracked across the illusion, so bright it left Sol blinking spots. He flinched, ducking instinctively. “Jesus Christ! That thing almost fried me! Do they have insurance for this realm? Or is it just ’oops, you got vaporized, sucks to be you’?”

Isylia smirked, her solar eyes gleaming. “You mortals call it chaos. I call it artistry. This is the Elemental Realm. It is not meant for ants like you to comprehend.”

Sol barked a laugh. “Artistry? Lady, this looks like a toddler spilled paint on the universe and then set it on fire. Don’t give me that ’artistry’ crap. This is a cosmic rave gone wrong.”

Isylia strutted through a phantom pillar of fire like it was nothing, ignoring the loudmouth tourist. “Unlike the other realms, which adhere to some semblance of logic, or at least pretend to, this one is kinda… fractured. It is a realm of realms. While there are infinite pockets of mixed chaos where the elements are jumbled together, the Four Pillars of existence hold dominion here.”

She stopped in the center of the illusion, the chaotic swirling of fire, water, earth, and wind framing her small form like a tempest.

“It is a political minefield,” she noted dryly. “Let’s start with the loudest assholes.”

She pointed to the quadrant of endless crimson.

“The Fire Realm.”

The illusion zoomed in. Sol saw a landscape that looked like the surface of the sun, but a bit habitable.

“Cities of brass built on seas of liquid flame,” Isylia narrated. “The architecture is crazy just like the inhabitants here… spires of obsidian and hardened magma that rise miles into the burning sky, as if they wanna reach and conquer other realms too. But well, that’s just their impossible dream. Anyways, it is home to the Efreet, the Salamander-kin, and other such fire elemental freaks.

Sol watched as tall, muscular beings with skin like charcoal and hair of living flame hammered away at anvils.

“And just like Titans, they treat smithing not as a craft, but as a form of prayer, no more like a crazy cult.” She explained. “They hammer their souls into the metal. They believe that to forge is to mimic the act of creation itself. They are proud, arrogant, and they view anything that cannot burn as ’impure.’ Truly arrogant bastards.”

“So, they’re blacksmith cultists,” Sol muttered. “Great. I’m sure they’re fun at parties.”

“They are the party,” She corrected. “If you like parties where the guests immolate themselves for fun.”

“Yeah, hard pass. I like my skin not crispy.”

She swiped her hand to the right, and the heat vanished, replaced by a crushing, deep blue pressure.

“The Water Realm,” she continued. “A world of vertical oceans with no surface and no floor. It is an infinite column of water.”

Sol stared at the illusion. It was beautiful and terrifying. Massive currents acted as highways, carrying bioluminescent creatures that looked like whales made of glass.

“Mer-Lords and others live here in pearl-citadels suspended in the deep, anchored by heavy water chains,” Isylia said. “Laws here are governed entirely by pressure and current. Down is where the pressure crushes you; Up is where the current takes you. If you don’t know how to swim in three dimensions, you drown before you take a breath.”

Suddenly, a massive air bubble drifted past, one bursting silently into a spray of glittering mist. Sol pointed at it, horrified. “And what the fuck is that? A balloon the size of a city just popped like it was made of soap. Do people live in those? Do they just… die when their bubble explodes?!”

She shrugged, bored. “Sometimes. That is the way of the Water Realm. Pressure, currents, collapse. Life is fragile.”

Sol groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “Fragile? Lady, that’s not fragile, that’s a death lottery. ’Congratulations, your house popped, you drowned instantly.’ What kind of sick joke is this realm?”

Isylia tilted her head, her lips curling into a cruel smile. “The kind of joke the universe tells when it’s tired of mortals whining about fairness.”

She pointed to a figure in the water… a humanoid with scales that shifted color and eyes that glowed like deep-sea lanterns.

“Anyway, they are fluid,” she said. “In politics and in form. They value adaptability. But even they hate the Fire Realm with a passion that boils oceans.”

“Of course they do,” Sol muttered. “Fire and water. Classic. Next, you’ll tell me Earth and Wind hate each other too.”

Isylia smirked, her solar eyes gleaming. “You’re not as stupid as you look.”

Sol raised a brow. “Wow. Thanks. That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all day. Should I save it as ancestral sayings for my future generations?”

Isylia rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. I said not as stupid. You’re still stupid. Just… less than usual.”

Sol jabbed a thumb at the glowing fish‑man. “So, what’s their deal? Do they just swim around gossiping in bubbles? ’Oh, darling, did you hear what the Fire Realm did? They boiled my cousin alive.’”

Isylia’s lips twitched, almost amused. “More or less. They trade in secrets, currents, whispers. They are manipulators. They’ll smile at you while plotting how to drown you in your sleep.”

Sol grimaced. “Great. So basically, wet politicians. Slimy bastards with scales. Love it.”

She chuckled darkly. “Better slimy than crispy. At least they won’t set you on fire for fun.”

Sol threw his hands up. “Oh, fantastic choice. Burned alive or drowned alive. What a buffet of death options. Truly, the Elemental Realm is a five‑star resort.”

Isylia blinked, frowning. “What is a… five s-star resort?”

Sol waved his hands. “Never mind. Forget it. Just… it’s a place. A place for powerful bastards to look down on poor peasants. Doesn’t matter.”

Isylia rolled her eyes. “You speak in riddles, bug. Always with these strange references. five‑star resort? Lava as elevators? Developers running away? None of it makes sense. You sound like a madman.”

Sol threw his arms up. “I am a madman! That’s the only way to survive this nightmare world. You’ve got lava waterfalls going up, lightning islands playing tag, and fish politicians trading secrets. If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.”

Isylia smirked, clearly enjoying his frustration. “Cry, then. At least that would be useful. Tears are currency in some realms.”

Sol groaned. “Of course they are. Why wouldn’t they be? Next you’ll tell me sneezes are sacred offerings and burps summon gods.”

Isylia tilted her head, considering. “Not burps. But sneezes, yes. In the Dust Realm, a sneeze is considered a prayer.”

Sol stared at her, horrified. “…You’re joking.”

Her solar eyes gleamed with amusement. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

Sol was completely speechless now, this world was truly insane.