FREE USE in Primitive World

The air grew thick, even the temperature seemed to drop. The Golden Silver energy inside Sol’s chest pulsed like a silent, suffocating wave that rolled outward like an invisible tide.

The pass, already cramped and chaotic, felt even smaller, as if the stone walls themselves were closing in.

Sol slowly turned around.

It was a deliberate, unhurried movement... almost theatrical.

His silver-crimson eyes swept across the jammed horde with cold, predatory amusement. A slow, confident, and utterly terrifying smirk that spread across his face. It definitely wasn’t the smile of a man cornered. It was the exact smile of a predator who had just sprung the perfect trap.

The Coalition warriors froze.

For the first time since the chase began, real fear... primal, gut-wrenching fear... flashed across their faces.

The ones in front tried to push back, but the ones behind kept shoving forward, creating a suffocating press of bodies.

The pass had become a death chute, and Sol stood at the end of it like the reaper himself.

Slowly keeping that smirk, he drew the Dreadwing Blade.

The sapphire edge seemed to hum excitedly as he stepped forward.

And he started hacking them indiscriminately.

The bloodbath began.

Sol moved like a black storm through the narrow corridor. The Dreadwing Blade sang its silent, high-frequency song of death as he carved through the front ranks with terrifying efficiency.

The enemy couldn’t even swing their weapons. They were stuck... completely jammed in the tight, five-man-wide corridor, bodies pressed against bodies, arms pinned, axes and spears useless in the suffocating press.

Sol simply walked forward, hacking and slashing with effortless precision.

The blade flashed again and again, the high-frequency vacuum effect liquefying flesh and bone on contact.

Heads rolled. Shoulders were severed. Torsos were split open like ripe fruit.

Their bodies were turned into sprays of red mist and chunks of meat in seconds.

The Gray Marauders were the ones bearing the brunt of the initial slaughter. They were the front line, the ones who had charged hardest in their rage.

Sol hacked through them without mercy. One raider tried to shield himself with his arm... the blade cut through flesh, bone, and armor like paper, severing the limb and continuing into the man’s torso.

Another tried to stab with a spear... Sol grabbed the shaft, snapped it, and drove the broken end through the raider’s eye socket, the tip exploding out the back of his skull.

Blood sprayed in wide arcs, painting the stone walls crimson.

Guts spilled across the ground in slippery piles.

The screams of dying men and the wet, meaty sounds of bodies being hacked apart filled the air.

The narrow corridor amplified everything... the stench of blood and opened bowels was suffocating, the heat of the sun making the air thick and disgusting.

It was more blood and meat than any slaughterhouse could ever produce.

Warriors slipped on the gore, only to be cut down before they could regain their footing. The ones behind kept pushing forward, trampling their own dead and dying comrades in their mindless rage.

Sol didn’t stop.

He hacked and slashed wildly to his heart’s content, his Golden Silver energy humming with satisfaction as it absorbed the fresh essence from every kill.

The pass became a river of blood and viscera, the ground so slick with gore that it was impossible to stand without slipping.

A Marauder tried to climb over the bodies of his fallen comrades... Sol’s blade flashed, severing both legs at the knees. The man fell screaming into the pile of corpses, only to be trampled by the ones behind him.

After hacking down the initial ones to pieces, the pass seemed to loosen slightly as the bodies piled up and were trampled into pulp. The rear ones could finally enter, pushing forward with renewed fury.

But of course, it only meant more enemies to cut.

A massive layer 2 brute with a scarred face and a notched axe swung wildly in a desperate attempt to take Sol’s head. Sol didn’t even dodge. He stepped into the swing, the sapphire blade flashing upward in a clean, vertical arc.

The high-frequency edge met the man’s thick neck and simply erased it.

The head flew off in a spray of arterial blood, the body still standing for a split second before collapsing forward, gushing crimson like a broken fountain.

The next Marauder tried to bring his axe down. Sol’s blade flicked out, slicing through the man’s arm at the elbow.

The severed limb flew away still gripping the axe, and before the warrior could scream, Sol drove the sword straight through his chest, the vibrating edge liquefying ribs and heart in one smooth thrust.

The body crumpled, guts spilling out in a wet, steaming pile.

A Zerith stalker tried to leap over the growing wall of corpses, its multi-jointed limbs flailing. Sol’s blade simply whipped out in a horizontal arc, cutting through both legs mid-air.

The creature crashed down screaming, only to be trampled by the ones behind it.

Sol stepped forward and drove the sword through its skull, ending its cries instantly.

Another Marauder, bigger than the rest, most likely layer 3 tried to shield himself with his arm. The blade cut through flesh, bone, and armor like paper, severing the limb and continuing into the man’s torso.

The raider screamed as his body was split open from shoulder to hip, organs spilling out in a hot, slippery mess.

The pass was becoming a nightmare of blood and meat.

Sol moved forward relentlessly, the Dreadwing Blade humming with more and more power.

A group of three Marauders tried to rush him together, axes swinging in uncoordinated fury.

Sol ducked under the first swing, sliced the second man’s legs out from under him, and drove the blade upward into the third’s chin, the tip exploding out the top of his skull.

The bodies collapsed in a heap, adding to the growing barrier of corpses.

The rear enemies didn’t know what was happening at the front and kept pushing, trampling their own dead in their mindless rage.