FREE USE in Primitive World

Sol smirked, his eyes reflecting the cold starlight filtering through the high ironwood canopy. The group was complete.

Though the personalities were a bit mismatched… the fierce pride of Kira, the unhinged devotion of Zeyra, the erratic energy of the leopard boys, and the silent chill of the bat girl… but beneath the surface, they were all lethal spirit warriors ready to draw blood.

“Rest a bit, we have an absolute banger of a night ahead,” Sol commanded quietly, closing his eyes as he leaned back against the petrified wood. “We will move before the first ray of dawn hits the leaves.”

…

The deep blackness of the night slowly turned into a cold, heavy grey, and just before the first hint of morning light touched the topmost leaves of the ironwood canopy.

Across the southern clearing, one hundred and eighty spirit warriors rose from the damp grass without making a sound.

The chunks of thunder-boar meat and iron-root starchy paste had done their job; the spirit warriors were pulsing with warm, ready essence, their narrow pathways fully prepped for the sprint.

There were no orders shouted, no horns blown. Under the attention of chief, high shaman and various elders, the nine teams split up instantly, each one being led by layer 3 commanders and multiple sub commanders.

Sol opened his eyes, the silver-crimson light in his pupils cutting through the deep grey shadows of the forest. He rose smoothly, the black Rockhorn carapace shifting over his shoulders without a single click of noise.

Beside him, Kira tightened the strap of her bow, her pupils fully blown in the dark, while Zeyra adjusted the leather bindings on her wrists, her eyes instantly locking onto Sol’s face with that heavy, quiet devotion.

Chief Veylara wasn’t going with them.

She would remain behind to personally oversee the defense of the tribe in case any surprise attacks slipped through the outer lines.

High Commander Thauren also had his hands full… he was already moving out with a separate elite unit to survey the main battlefield and set up secondary ambush points across the valley.

As for High Shaman Zephyra, she stood near the sally port with a tight expression, her hands clasped in front of her. She had her own heavy responsibilities… maintaining the defensive wards and spiritual barriers around the tribes.

She could only watch with clear worry in her eyes as the teams prepared to leave.

The goodbyes were short and grim. No long speeches. No emotional hugs. Just a few nods and quiet words exchanged under the torchlight.

“Stay alive,” Veylara said simply, gripping her spear. “All of you.”

Zephyra said nothing. She just looked at Sol for a long second, then at Zeyra, before giving a small, helpless nod.

After saying not so exciting goodbye, all the teams moved toward their designated sectors like shadows sliding through the brush.

Sol’s team, which is also now officially called Team One, moved out through the narrow western sally port.

Tala led the line, her small frame hunkered low as she navigated the thick ferns and hanging vines. Her spirit markings glowed faintly along her arms, helping her blend into the dark jungle.

Right behind her came Sol, moving with calm, measured steps. His black Rockhorn armor made almost no sound despite its weight. Kira followed close behind him, her eyes cautiously scanning the trees.

Zeyra stayed glued to Sol’s left side, her movements fluid and graceful thanks to her Binding Snake Spirit. Bringing up the rear were three leopard-spirit warriors, each carrying two heavy pitch jars strapped across their backs.

The jungle swallowed them the moment they stepped outside the walls.

The air was thick, humid, and alive with night sounds. Insects buzzed constantly. Distant roars echoed from deeper in the jungle. The ground was soft and damp due to all the moisture in the air.

Every step had to be careful… one snapped branch or misplaced foot could alert enemy scouts.

They moved fast but quietly.

The three leopard boys… Torin, Bran, and Kael… flexed their thick calf muscles. Their Layer 2 Wind-Leopard spirits thrummed, their core pathways readying up as they prepared to set sped up through the dense undergrowth.

The three leopard-spirit warriors… Torin, Bran, and Kael… flexed their thick calf muscles as they picked up the pace.

Their Layer 2 Wind-Leopard spirits thrummed inside their cores, pushing power into their legs. They were proud of their speed. Extremely proud.

Veylara had specifically chosen them for this raid because of it. In their minds, they were going to show this sol what real jungle movement looked like and show him their capabilities to prove their worth.

But as they accelerated through the dense undergrowth, their eyes widened in disbelief.

Sol was drifting right beside Tala at the front, his stride long, lazy, and completely effortless. His body, even while being weighted down by the thick plates of the black Rockhorn armor, didn’t create a single heavy thud in the ground.

Every time his boot touched the ground, he almost seemed to glide forward, as if ground was propelling him forward like a gliding boulder.

And he wasn’t even using his spirit, and here they were using their spirits at full capacity, just to keep up.

Torin, who was running just behind him, felt his pride take a serious hit. He pushed harder, burning more essence forcing his Wind-Leopard to work harder, trying to pull ahead.

But no matter how much he accelerated, Sol stayed right there… calm, relaxed, barely breathing harder.

Bran and Kael exchanged quick, shocked glances. They were both Layer 2, just like Sol. They were ranked in the top five fastest warriors in the entire tribe.

And yet this guy was casually keeping pace with their best scout without even trying.

Tala made sense. She was their lead scout. She trained in these jungles every day and was actively using her spirit to stay silent and fast. But Sol? He was just… walking fast. That was it.

And then came the real gut punch.