FREE USE in Primitive World

Like it was building toward something greater, yet couldn’t quite cross the final threshold. It wasn’t about quantity anymore. He needed quality. A truly dense, powerful soul.

So he kept moving.

He blurred through the chaos, leaving a trail of broken bodies in his wake. Giants swung massive clubs at him, only for their weapons to be sliced in half mid-swing. Others tried to overwhelm him with numbers, but the Dreadwing Blade danced in a silent storm of death, severing limbs and opening throats before they could even react.

Finally, after cutting down the last of the immediate charging warriors, Sol turned and walked back toward the fallen Layer 3 sub-commander.

The moment he stood over the massive corpse, the Silver pool in his chest gave a massive, deafening roar that only he could hear.

He knew that it was the final, dense soul needed to break the threshold.

The freezing vacuum inside his chest spun at a terrifying velocity, violently sucking in the sub-chief’s entire spiritual residue and core soul.

The thick silver liquid exploded with power, surging through his meridians like liquid lightning.

For a fraction of a second, everything inside him froze solid... then it began to change.

The bright metallic silver started to burn.

It grew hotter, brighter, shifting and condensing until the entire pool transformed into a radiant, molten Golden Silver... a majestic liquid that glowed with a deep, divine golden hue mixed with traces of lingering silver. It looked like liquid sunlight forged with star metal. Denser. Nobler. Far more powerful than its previous form.

Sol’s silver-crimson eyes flashed with an entirely new, radiant light as the evolution completed.

So this is the next stage...

A cold, hungry smirk slowly spread across his face.

The change wasn’t just in color. A brand-new capability had awakened within him.

Golden Dominion.

He could now freely spread this evolved Free Use energy outward from his body, creating a wide-area suppression field.

Within this golden domain, enemy perception would distort, their nervous systems would lag, and their coordination would crumble. Movements would become sluggish and uncoordinated, reactions delayed, balance thrown off... as if the world itself was weighing them down while Sol and his allies moved freely.

Previously, forcing something similar had been crude, massively draining, and limited in range. Now, with this evolved Golden Silver, he could maintain the field with ease, expand it over a wide area, and affect dozens... even hundreds... of enemies at once with far greater efficiency and control.

Sol clenched his fist, feeling the radiant golden-silver liquid circulate smoothly through his pathways like warm, living sunlight. A faint golden glow briefly flickered across his skin before vanishing.

He could already imagine it... an entire battlefield suddenly stumbling, slowing, and becoming easy prey while he walked through them like a god among mortals.

A low, satisfied chuckle escaped his throat.

"Perfect," he whispered.

...

On the other hand, the rest of the huts and tents burst open like broken beehives.

Dozens of Layer 2 and Layer 3 Marauder elites rushed out, heavy clubs and stone axes in hand, their red eyes wild with fury as they saw their sub-commander’s headless body sprawled at Sol’s feet like discarded meat.

"Kill the black-armored one!" a heavy captain bellowed, leading a group of ten giants charging down the lane.

"Form the wall! Don’t let them mass!" Mara shouted from the right flank, her speed squad rushing in with shields raised to support the center.

Sol didn’t back down even a single step.

He activated his newly evolved Golden Dominion.

A wave of invisible, radiant energy exploded outward from his body.

The Golden Silver liquid in his chest surged, spreading across the settlement like molten sunlight given form.

The charging giants suddenly stumbled mid-stride.

Their red eyes turned hazy and confused as their internal pathways experienced a sudden, crushing drop in tension.

Their perception clouded, movements became sluggish, and their coordination shattered... as if they were still half-buried in deep, drunken sleep.

It was beautiful.

"Strike their shins now," Sol commanded, his voice cutting cleanly through the noise like a blade.

The Veynar warriors didn’t hesitate.

Riding the wave of their recent training, the small hunting packs swarmed the confused giants from every side. Torin and Bran dove low like wolves, their daggers slicing through thick leg tendons with clean shlucks.

Kira launched three rapid arrows from a nearby roof, each one punching straight through the eyes of the leading captains.

Zeyra moved like liquid death, her blades driving into spinal paths of the fallen giants, ending them before they could even understand why their bodies had betrayed them.

Sol walked through the settlement like death incarnate.

The Dreadwing Blade sang its silent song as he carved through the slowed Marauders with terrifying ease.

Every strike was precise and merciless.

A horizontal slash took two heads in one motion. A thrust through the heart dropped a roaring Layer 3 elite before he could finish swinging his club.

With every kill, the Golden Silver pool inside him greedily pulled in their spiritual essence, further stabilizing and strengthening his new foundation.

The damping field around him grew even heavier, making the enemy feel like they were fighting underwater.

The Marauders were panicking.

"What is this—?! My body... it won’t listen—!"

"I can’t see straight—!"

Their movements were sluggish and clumsy, like drunkards trying to fight in a dream. The Golden Dominion was working perfectly, turning their raw strength into a liability.

Within minutes of intense, high-speed butchery, the entire outer area of the Gray Marauder camp had been turned into a silent graveyard of shattered stone and bloody carcasses.

Out of the four hundred warriors who had been sleeping on the outer ring of the plateau, nearly three hundred lay dead in the mud, their chests crudely marked with the jagged Veynar war crest.

The remaining few who were far away, and the effect of Golden Dominion was weaker on them, tried to flee down the southern cliffs in blind terror, only to run straight into the tight shield-walls of Veynar, who systematically butchered these weakened giants in single file as they funneled out like cattle into a slaughter chute.

The entire plateau finally fell deathly silent.

Thick morning smoke from the burning eastern huts drifted lazily over the ridge like a black funeral shroud.