FREE USE in Primitive World

Sol’s lips curved into a satisfied smirk.

Thankfully, he had taken the time to strip off his own clothes and threw them aside near the door before things had escalated. Considering the violent intensity of their “ritual,” his new leather pants and tunic would have definitely ended up as shredded as Zephyra’s bandages.

He stood up, muscles rippling under his skin, and walked over to the wooden basin near the brazier. The water was still lukewarm. He grabbed a clean damp cloth and quickly wiped himself down, cleaning the mixture of their fluids from his cock, thighs, and chest.

Once satisfied, he pulled on his dark leather pants and threw the simple linen tunic over his head.

He gave Zephyra one last look. The untouchable, terrifying High Shaman looked entirely mortal right now… broken, exhausted, and thoroughly fucked.

Sol felt a strange mix of pride, possessiveness, and something softer he couldn’t quite name. He had come here expecting to check on an injured ally. Instead, he had thoroughly ruined one of the most powerful people in the tribe.

With a quiet chuckle, he turned away.

He pushed open the wooden door and stepped out of the sweltering, incense-filled room. The cooler air of the hallway hit him like a refreshing wave.

After navigating the short, dimly lit corridor adorned with shamanic totems and glowing spirit runes, he stepped outside into the cool air of the Shamanic Grove.

He had barely taken two steps when he almost bumped into someone.

A young acolyte… a girl no older than Kira, wearing the simple gray robes of a Shamanic apprentice.. was standing nervously just outside. She had a woven basket of dried herbs clutched tightly to her chest, her eyes wide with worry.

When she saw Sol step out of the High Shaman’s private quarters, she froze completely. Her jaw dropped slightly, staring at him in stunned silence.

For a second, Sol tensed, wondering if she had heard anything incriminating. But then, the girl’s expression rapidly shifted from shock to almost pure, overwhelming reverence.

She hurriedly dropped the basket of herbs, falling to her knees on the glowing blue moss, and bowed her head so low her forehead practically touched the dirt.

“Divine One,” the girl stammered, her voice trembling with emotion. “Thank you. Thank you so much for saving me. For saving my family… and our whole tribe.”

Sol blinked, the tension draining out of his shoulders.

He let out a soft sigh and stepped forward.

“Hey, get up,” Sol said, keeping his voice low so he wouldn’t wake Zephyra. He reached out and gently grasped the girl’s shoulder, pulling her up from the dirt. “It’s okay. You don’t need to do that. I just did what I could. The real credit goes to the High Shaman for wiping out the horde, and to the Warchief for holding the line. I just killed an injured beast. It’s not a big deal.”

He tried to play down his achievement, genuinely uncomfortable with this extreme hero worship.

But the young acolyte looked at him like he had just spoken absolute blasphemy. Her expression turned incredibly serious, her eyes fierce with conviction.

“No,” she said firmly, shaking her head. “Even though the High Shaman and the Warchief indeed did a lot, what you did was a very big deal! We all saw it. If you hadn’t stopped that walking mountain, the walls would have shattered. Countless tribesmen would have died, including me and my little brother. So… thank you so much.”

She went to bow deeply again.

“Okay, okay, I understand!” Sol quickly reached out, grabbing her arms to physically stop her from dropping to the dirt again. “I get it. Just… stop bowing, alright? We’re good.”

Seeing the unstoppable butcher of the battlefield get so flustered over a simple bow made the young girl pause.

A small, genuine chuckle escaped her lips, and she finally stood up straight, brushing the dirt off her gray robes.

“Sorry,” she smiled nervously. But then she looked past him, her eyes darting toward the closed hide curtain of Zephyra’s room. She remembered why she was standing out here in the first place. “Is… is everything okay inside? I heard loud voices earlier. The High Shaman sounded… in pain.”

Sol coughed awkwardly into his fist, suddenly finding the canopy of the distant trees very interesting.

“She is okay,” Sol lied smoothly, keeping his face totally straight. “She was just doing a… very intense spiritual ritual. It took a lot out of her, and she is extremely tired now. She explicitly instructed that no one is to disturb her or come inside until tomorrow.”

The acolyte’s eyes went wide, taking the excuse at face value. She nodded seriously, puffing her chest out slightly as if she had just been handed a massive, critical responsibility.

“Understood, Divine One,” she said firmly. “I will stand guard. No one will pass.”

“Good girl,” Sol smiled, giving her a reassuring nod. “I’ll leave her to you, then.”

Sol walked past her, making his way out of the Shamanic Grove and back toward the main settlement.

As he navigated the wooden walkways, heading back toward his assigned quarters in theFeline Spire, he could feel a strange, building pressure deep in his chest. It wasn’t painful, but it felt like a massive spring being tightly coiled.

He knew exactly what it was. The “Free Use” silver essence.

During his brutal session with Zephyra, he had used a massive amount of it, pushing the strange power to its absolute limits to completely break down her resistance. But the dual-exchange with a powerhouse hadn’t just simulated his Sun Core with golden essence; it had massively stimulated that strange, hollow space in his chest where the silver power lived.

It had been acting up, churning and boiling, ever since he had climaxed one after another.

The moment Sol stepped through the door of his quiet, empty room and shut it behind him, the pressure finally hit the breaking point.

The silver energy literally exploded.