FREE USE in Primitive World

Thankfully Veynar warriors had strong nerves and good discipline, so the sudden, brutal strike from the rear didn’t turn into an immediate, chaotic free-for-all.

Seeing this, after that first devastating thrust that claimed the lives of the unsuspecting elders, the Zharun warriors had halted their advance, pulling their blood-stained spear blades back into a defensive line.

They didn’t push forward into a blind rush; instead, they stood side-by-side, their faces twisting into mocking grins as they formed a solid wall of spears and blades.

Taking advantage of that brief, terrifying pause, the surviving Veynar warriors reacted with the speed of seasoned hunters.

Shouting commands split the air as they quickly organized their lines, pulling their heavy bone shields together to form a rough, back-to-back circle.

But the reality of the situation was completely brutal.

They were entirely surrounded on both sides. In front of them stood the three thousand roaring Marauders and Zerith stalkers, teeth bared and weapons raised.

Behind them stood a thousand Zharun traitors who had just butchered their elders.

...

Near the center of the frantic circle, the reactions of the Veynar leadership were a mix of explosive rage and deep shock.

Warchief Veylara stood like a towering statue of scarred stone, her dark eyes wide and burning with a terrifying, unholy fire.

The usual mask of calm command was entirely gone, her jaw clenched so hard a drop of blood leaked from her lip. She held her massive bone spear with a grip that threatened to shatter the wood, her knuckles turning bone-white as she stared across the clearing.

Beside her, High Shaman Zephyra leaned heavily on her staff, her body shaking.

Her pale eyes were fixed on the dead bodies of the elders cooling in the dirt, a complex deep, sorrowful anger tightening her old face.

Kira and Zeyra had also stepped up, their bodies tense as they stood behind Veylara.

They had been deliberately keeping their distance from the Zharun lines earlier, their hunting instincts warning them of danger, but seeing the bloody spears, their breathing turned shallow and fast.

Zeyra’s daggers were already out, her pupils thinned to tiny black lines, while Kira’s hands trembled against her bowstring, her eyes darting frantically through the Zharun ranks as if looking for something... or someone.

Suddenly, a loud, booming laugh erupted from the Coalition’s direction, rolling across the broken mountain clearing like rolling stones.

”Hahaha! Good! Beautiful!”

The twenty-foot Grand Chieftain of the Gray Marauders slowly stepped forward through the pulverized slate rubble of the broken pass, his massive, stone-hard body shaking with savage joy.

The Zerith Chief glided right behind him, his horizontally slit orange eyes twitching with a smug, malicious glee.

The giant Marauder chief stopped at the edge of the clearing, looking down at the trapped Veynar ring like a hunter looking at a bunch of rabbits inside a pit.

”Hahaha!” the giant chief bellowed, his deep voice rattling the weapons of his own men as he looked at the surrounded Veynar circle. ”How did you like the surprise, Veylara? Look at your perfect little trap now!”

He swung his seven-foot beast-bone club casually, wiping a stray bit of dust off his gray chest.

”In fact, even I was surprised when I was approached by the Zharun Chief for a secret alliance,” the giant laughed, his voice full of thick arrogance. ”It seems you Veynar monkeys are really hated by everyone in this valley. You thought you were so clever, hiding in the rocks, but your own neighbors sold your blood to me before you ever left your walls!”

Veylara didn’t flinch under his mocking gaze. She took a slow, heavy step forward, her voice was dangerously calm, carrying a cold, biting weight when she spoke.

”A giant is still just a pig if he needs to hide behind a marsh rat to win a war, Bruga. Your ancestors must be spitting on your hide.” Veylara spat, her eyes shifting away from the giant to lock onto Chief Vane.

She stared directly at the Zharun leader, her tone turning into a sharp, furious demand. ”Vane! How dare you break the Sacred Pact? And more than that, you are a human! How did you dare to side with alien races, even knowing that they want nothing more than to exterminate our kind in this region? Have you forgotten the laws of the ancestors?”

Zharun Chief Vane casually adjusted the leather straps on his forearm, completely unbothered by her words. He let out a soft, cynical chuckle.

””That’s just how it is, Warchief. The laws of the ancestors don’t fill our meat pots.” Vane replied, his voice calm and cynical. ”Who asked you guys to get so damn strong, so fast, with just this small tribe?

Given your freakish speed, it wouldn’t take long for you to reach new heights, cross the river, and take control of us all. The marsh doesn’t like masters, Veylara.”

He let out a short, small laugh, his eyes gleaming with a twisted look, as he looked at their pale faces. ”And most importantly... it’s fun seeing your reaction right now. Watching the proud Veynar look like trapped rats in the mud is worth every single drop of blood.”

...

Before Vane could continue his twisted talk, a sudden, trembling voice cut through the clearing from behind Veynar’s circle.

Kira stepped forward, her face deathly pale. She had been holding her breath for so long her chest ached, her eyes locked onto Vane with a desperate, fearful intensity.

”Then... then what about Lumi?” Kira asked, her voice cracking slightly as she took a shaky step forward. She was visibly terrified to hear the answer, her heart hammering against her ribs. ”You took her for the alliance... you said she was safe in your tribe. What did you do to her?”

Chief Vane didn’t even look at her. He casually ignored her question, treating the young girl’s voice like nothing more than a stray gust of wind.

He kept his eyes fixed on Veylara, continuing his cynical speech about territory borders and power distribution as if no one had spoken at all.