FREE USE in Primitive World

Chapter 288: Chapter 288: Making Up His Mind

“No. You just don’t trust me,” Sol stated, laying out the ugly truth of the room. “You know the other human tribes abandoned this place. You know the beasts are massing. And you looked at me… an anomaly who owes this tribe absolutely nothing… and realized that if I see the true horrors and decide the math doesn’t add up, I can just turn around and walk away. I have the speed of the Dreadwing. Nobody could catch me. I could leave you all to burn.”

Zeyra swallowed hard. The facade of the cheap seductress completely evaporated, replaced by the grim, desperate reality of a girl trying to save her people from extinction.

“Yes,” Zeyra whispered, her voice cracking slightly, tears of sheer frustration pooling in the corners of her eyes. “Yes, I realized it. You are a god among insects, Sol.

Why would a god stay and die for a tribe of strangers? Chief Veylara is strong, but she is blinded by her own honor. She thinks your gratitude and a nice bed will keep you on the walls when the sky turns black with monsters.”

She looked up at him, her chest heaving, stripped of all her pride and pretense. “I could not take that risk! The Veynar tribe is my home. If offering my body to you….is what it takes to permanently chain the Divine One to our gates, then I will gladly do it a thousand times over!”

“Claim me, and I’ll give you everything. I’ll be your shield, your fire, and your shadow. You won’t ever have to look for another woman.”

Her righteous, desperate confession hung in the quiet air of the Feline Spire.

She wasn’t a villain trying to steal his power. She wasn’t a power-hungry succubus. She was a deeply pragmatic, terrifyingly devoted warrior who was willing to throw away her own dignity, her body, and her freedom just to ensure that the ultimate weapon didn’t abandon her people in their darkest hour.

Sol stared down at her for a long, heavy moment.

In a strange, twisted way, he respected the hell out of her. They were exactly the same kind of monster. If their positions were reversed, he would have likely tried the exact same ruthless, highly optimized tactic to secure an asset. She was playing the game with the cards she was dealt.

Slowly, deliberately, Sol released her wrists.

He pushed himself up and stood, forcing himself to turn his back on her stunning, barely-covered figure. If he kept looking, the primal, hungry monster clawing at the edges of his mind would take over, and he’d devour her whole. He didn’t want that… at least not tonight, and not like this.

Sure, he knew he’d acted like a total scumbag when he first woke up in this brutal reality. Dying, transmigrating, and suddenly finding himself thrust into a savage wilderness with a god-tier cheat power would mess with anyone’s head. Add the pent-up frustrations of a past life spent entirely as a virgin, and it was no surprise he had let himself cut loose.

Of course, he didn’t regret it. Not for a single heartbeat. It had been an overwhelming cocktail of survival, dominance, and a desperate grab for control in a world that wanted him dead.

But… things were different now. The initial, frantic hunger had cooled, replaced by the calculating, refined ambition. Having experienced the raw edge of this world, he had realized a fundamental truth about his power: forcing compliance only left him with empty husks. Obedient, yes, but hollow.

If he truly wanted to conquer the women of this world, he didn’t need to default to mind-bending cheats. He had his modern intellect, his rapidly expanding strength, and a natural, commanding charisma he was finally learning to wield. He wanted genuine devotion. He wanted to win their minds and hearts, to savor the thrill of the chase and the sweetness of a willing surrender, rather than just rushing to the finish line like a starving animal.

He would utilize that power for the greater good of using it to beasts and enemies.

That didn’t mean he was going to lock the power away like some self-righteous, moralizing hero. He was no saint, and he had zero intention of playing one. In this savage forest, his life and his goals were supreme.

His cheat was a weapon. And a smart person never threw away his sharpest blade, he just learned the value of keeping it sheathed until the perfect moment, when it was really needed.

Instead of wasting that absolute domination on ruining a willing conquest, he would utilize it for the “greater good”: unleashing it on the beasts and enemies that threatened his survival.

Let the Marauders, the wild phantoms, and the arrogant rival warlords become the empty husks. If a monster or an enemy stood in his path, he wouldn’t hesitate for a fraction of a second to snap their minds and break them to his will, just as he had done to break the arrogant goddess Isylia.

He walked over to the fire pit, picking up a wooden poker to stir the smooth river stones.

“Put your clothes on, Zeyra,” Sol said quietly, his tone softening, completely lacking the anger or the wounded pride she had expected.

Zeyra slowly sat up on the furs, pulling the sheer silk tightly around her chest, looking at his broad back with a mixture of profound confusion and lingering fear. “You… you are not going to do anything to me or going to punish me?”

“I don’t punish people for being smart, Zeyra,” Sol replied, tossing the iron poker aside. He turned back to face her, his silver-crimson eyes calm and resolute. “And I don’t need to be honey-trapped or magically leashed to a bedpost to keep my word. I told the Warchief I would fight. I meant it. Not because of honor, and not because of some deep-seated loyalty to this tribe.”

He pointed a thumb back at his own chest, a dangerous, predatory smirk touching his lips.

“I am staying because this jungle is the greatest loot drop in a hundred miles, and I absolutely refuse to let anyone else steal my experience points,” Sol stated with absolute, unshakeable confidence. “The beasts are coming to me. It saves me the trouble of hunting them down. I don’t run from a free buffet.”

Zeyra stared at him. Even though she didn’t understand the meaning of words like “loot”, the sheer, overwhelming arrogance of his statement… viewing the calamity that threatened the existence of their tribe as nothing more than an opportunity to feed and grow stronger… finally made her realize exactly what kind of entity she had tried to trap. He wasn’t a savior. He was an apex predator. And he was already exactly where he wanted to be.

Slowly, the voluptuous girl rose to her feet. She didn’t bother trying to cover herself anymore. She offered him a deep, genuinely respectful bow… not a seductress’s curtsy, but the solemn bow of one warrior to a superior.

“I understand, Divine One,” Zeyra said softly, her dark eyes shining with a new, profound respect. “I will not insult your pride with such tricks again.”

“See that you don’t,” Sol nodded. “And Zeyra?”

She paused at the door, looking back over her shoulder.

“If we survive the upcoming wars, and you ever actually want to visit this room just as Zeyra… without the political suicide pact attached… the door is always unlocked.”

A genuine, warm, and highly appreciative smirk broke across the girl’s face, her signature sultry confidence returning in a flash. The heavy burden of her desperate gamble lifted from her shoulders. “I will definitely keep that in mind, Sol.”

She slipped out the door, the heavy timber clicking silently shut behind her, leaving only the lingering scent of jasmine and hormones in her wake.

Sol stood alone in the room once more. He let out a long breath, shaking his head at the sheer madness of tribal politics and Flame Core girls, before turning his gaze back to the eastern balcony.

The sky was finally beginning to lighten. The first, razor-thin sliver of true, pure sunlight pierced the horizon, cutting through the darkness of the Great Orrath.

The drama of the night was over. It was time to grind.

Sol walked out onto the balcony, sat cross-legged on the smooth wooden floorboards, and fixed his eyes directly on the rising sun. He called upon the Breath of Dawn, perfectly visualizing the burning sphere in his mind, aligned his breathing to the ancient rhythm, and began to devour the sky.