FREE USE in Primitive World

Chapter 174: Chapter 174: Attention Of The Universe

For a long time, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the soft, fading hum of the energy that still crackled between them. Isylia lay limp against the throne, her body glowing with a soft, satisfied flush, her eyes fluttering closed. She was no longer just Primordial. She had been touched by the mortal, and for the first time in eons, she felt heavy, grounded, and gloriously alive.

Sol lay there, his mind drifting in the afterglow. He was exhausted. Not the physical exhaustion of the deed, but a deep, spiritual fatigue. The sheer intensity of mating with a Goddess, of processing the Divine feedback, had drained his mental focus completely.

He thought everything was over, but suddenly, body shuddered. It wasn’t a shiver of cold or pleasure. It was a seismic event that seems to start in the very marrow of his bones. An incredible amount of something flooded his system… but unlike the warm, golden vitality he had siphoned earlier, this was different. It was cold, heavy, and ancient.

Sol’s eyes flew open, but he saw nothing but blinding white light.

His entire body began to glow. It wasn’t the reflection of Isylia’s light; it was coming from inside him. Beams of radiance shot from his pores, turning his skin translucent and luminous.

Slowly, inexorably, he began to rise.

He lifted off Isylia’s body, floating upward into the air above the obsidian throne. His limbs hung loose, his head tipped back, his arms spread wide.

The entire realm shuddered. The Void trembled.

An absolute, crushing pressure descended upon the temple. It was the weight of attention. As if the universe itself was watching.

OMMMM.

A sound filled the air. It wasn’t the wind or anything like that. Listening carefully, it seemed to be a chant. A liturgy sung by the fabric of reality itself. Millions of voices, overlapping and harmonizing, spoke in a language that predated speech. It was a song of recognition. A hymn by the universe itself.

The shockwave didn’t stop at the walls of the pocket dimension. It punched through the dimensional membrane like a fist through wet paper.

In the dense, prehistoric jungle outside the cave, the world went silent.

The wind stopped blowing. The rivers stopped flowing. The ambient hum of a million insects… the constant, deafening static of the jungle… was silenced in a single heartbeat.

Every living thing froze.

In the ravine below, the Sovereign of the Gorge was in a frenzy. The mountain-sized serpent was thrashing, its massive tail pulverizing the rock walls, furious that its prey had vanished into thin air. It roared, a sound that shook the leaves off the trees for miles.

Then, the Pressure hit.

The roar died in the Sovereign’s throat. The massive snake, a creature that feared nothing, suddenly went rigid. Its vertical pupils dilated until they were black voids. It felt a vibration in its marrow… a command to kneel.

The Sovereign collapsed. It slammed its chin into the mud, curling its massive body into a ball of submission, shivering violently. It didn’t know what was happening, only that something Higher had arrived.

A mile away, a Tyrant-Lizard, the apex predator of the region, was mid-stride, stalking a herd of grazers. As the pressure hit, the massive beast’s pupils dilated to pinpricks. It didn’t roar. It didn’t run. It collapsed. The King of the Jungle fell to its belly, pressing its massive snout into the dirt, trembling violently. It was an instinct older than hunger: Submission.

In the canopy, thousands of birds fell from their perches, raining down like stones, too terrified to spread their wings.

In the mud-huts of the surrounding tribes, chaos erupted… and then was instantly quelled. Warriors who had faced death without blinking dropped their spears. Shamans, sensitive to the flow of mana, screamed as their minds were flooded with a blinding white noise. They fell to their knees, forehead to the ground, vomiting from the sheer spiritual vertigo.

The Osari Tribe

Miles away, in the village square, the air turned heavy as lead.

Chief Tharun was mid-speech, planning the next expansion. He stopped, clutching his chest, his knees buckling, as he fell flat down, including other elders. With extreme difficulty, he looked up at the sky, his warrior instincts screaming that something eternal and absolute was watching.

“The sky…” Tharun wheezed, “it weighs… so much.”

In her secluded cave, Shaman Zula screamed. She fell to the floor, her white eyes rolling back into her head, foam gathering at her mouth. She didn’t feel pain; she felt awe.

“Something has opened…” she babbled, clawing at the dirt. “Someone has knocked on the Door!”

And in the humble hut on the edge of the village, Lyra, Arelia, Veyra, and Liora all froze and fell down.

It wasn’t a monster. It felt like the sky was falling.

…

The shockwave rippled outward, crossing the boundaries of the Realms.

In the Verdant Realm, where the sun never sets, the High Elven Court was in session. The Primordial Elven Queen, a being of breathtaking beauty and arrogance, sat upon her throne of woven living wood, bored by the petty disputes of her nobility.

Suddenly, the eternal sunlight flickered.

The Queen stood up so fast her chalice of nectar shattered on the floor. Her golden skin turned pale. Her “Life-Sense”… eyes that could see the flow of vitality across dimensions… burned.

She looked “Down.” Not physically down, but dimensionally down. toward the muddy, primitive Material Plane she usually ignored.

“Your Majesty?” a noble asked, trembling. “What is happening? The Great Tree… it is shivering.”

“Silence,” the Queen hissed, her eyes wide, staring at something only she could see.

…

The Titan Realm: The World-Forge

In a world where gravity could crush a star, the hammers stopped.

In the World-Forge, a city-sized volcano, the Primordial Titans paused their eternal labor. Giants made of living magma and obsidian looked up from their anvils.

“Do you feel it?” a Titan rumbled, his voice like grinding tectonic plates. “The balance of weight has shifted.”

“A disturbance,” another answered, sparks dripping from his beard. “Something heavy has been placed on the scales. But where?”

They struck their anvils in unison…CLANG…a warning system dedicated for the most extreme disturbance.

…

The Totem Realm: The Golden Savanna

In the endless golden fields where the Platonic Ideals of all beasts roamed, the Great Wolf stopped its sprint. The Eternal Eagle ceased its flight, drifting on the wind.

The Animal Gods turned their heads toward the rift in dimensions. They sniffed the air. They smelled a scent that hadn’t existed for an eon.

They howled. A chorus of a billion beasts singing rippled through the entire realm.

…

The Dream Realm: The Mirror of Madness

In a world where physics was a suggestion and thoughts were solid matter, the chaos froze.

The shifting, surreal landscapes of the Dream Realm solidified for a single heartbeat. A ripple of lucidity washed over the madness.

From the center of a cloud made of eyes, an Unknown Voice spoke. It wasn’t loud, but it echoed in the minds of every dreamer in the multiverse.

“The Dream… begins.”

…

The Frost Realm: The Citadel of Silence

In a world of eternal ice, where entropy reigned, the Ice Queen opened her eyes. She sat on a throne of frozen tears, her skin blue, her heart a diamond of absolute zero.

She felt a spike of heat. It was faint, distant, but in her world of cold, it was a blinding beacon.

“Warmth,” she whispered, her breath turning to snow. “Someone is burning.”

A crack appeared in her icy expression. It was curiosity. Malice. And a desperate hunger for the heat she could never possess.

…

In the Draconic Realm, atop the highest floating island, where the air was thin and choked with mana, the Ancient One slept. He was a dragon the size of a world, his scales encrusted with the geological history of worlds. He had slept for tens of thousand years, or maybe hundreds or millions.

One massive, slit-pupiled eye snapped open. It was an ocean of chaos.

A low growl started deep in his chest, a sound that caused avalanches on the neighboring peaks. He raised his massive head, sniffing the dimensional wind.

“A shard…” his voice was a tectonic rumble that shook the clouds.

“Interesting…” The Ancient One shifted, his massive wings unfurling, casting a shadow over a city of lesser dragons. “The ants are evolving. Finally… something worth hunting.

“

…

In the eternal darkness of the Shadow Realm, the Vampiric Progenitor sat in his pool of blood, sipping from a goblet made of a god’s skull. He was elegant, pale, and infinitely cruel.

When the pressure hit, the pool of blood boiled.

The Progenitor dropped his goblet. He clutched his chest, feeling a sudden, sharp pain in his dead heart. It was a phantom pain. A memory of fear.

The shadows in the room recoiled, shrinking away from an invisible light that pierced through the dimensional veil.

“Light?” the Progenitor hissed, covering his eyes. “No… not light. Will.”

He looked toward the tear in the fabric of the worlds. He sensed the direction. It was coming from the primitive world.

His lips curled into a sneer that didn’t quite hide his trepidation. “A new sun is trying to rise? In my night?”

He licked his lips. “I wonder… how sweet his blood must taste.”

…

The Elemental Realm: The Eye of the Storm

The war stopped.

In the Fire Realm, the Efreet lowered their hammers. The seas of lava calmed to a mirror finish. In the Water Realm, the currents stilled. The Mer-Lords looked up from their pearl citadels. In the Wind Realm, the floating islands stopped drifting.

For a single moment, the chaos of the elements aligned.

The Elemental Lords… massive, sentient storms of pure mana… turned their faceless heads in unison. They felt the command. It wasn’t a request. It was a frequency that overrode their chaotic nature.

It was the frequency of Order.

…

The Pleasure Realm: The Palace of Flesh

The sky was a bruised purple. The rivers ran with wine. The air was thick with aphrodisiacs.

In the highest tower of the Palace of Flesh, the Succubus Queen lounged on a divan made of unknown red divine stones. She was a literal perfection incarnate… horns of polished onyx, skin like cream, curves that could start divine wars.

At this moment, she was incredibly bored. She as a succubus queen should have tasted every pleasure, broken every king, drained every hero, but… the fact was she hadn’t, why? Because unlike other succubus, she had been blessed since birth, without even needing the essence of other men, she had already risen and became the succubus queen.

And she had weird(in the eyes of others) pride, that she wouldn’t sleep with a man weaker than her, but her being the strongest succubus in existence didn’t really help much in this regard, as just by getting a single glimpse, as every opponent would kneel and become her slave.

So, now nothing really excites her.

Just then, the shockwave hit.

She sat up, the motion fluid and predatory. Her tail twitched. Her eyes, pools of liquid violet, widened.

She licked her lips, tasting the air. As she felt something. She tasted a raw, masculine vitality so potent it made her dizzy from across the dimensions.

“Oh?” she purred, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across her face. “What a delicious flavor. Seems like someone worthy has really appeared.”

She stood up, her wings unfurling. The boredom vanished, replaced by a starving, predatory lust.

“I wonder who he is,” she whispered. “And I wonder if he breaks.”