FREE USE in Primitive World

"Gorr...!" Vane tried to scream, but the dominion crushed his lungs. Only a strangled, wheezing rasp escaped his throat.

Tears streamed down his weathered face as he strained every muscle, veins popping across his neck and temples.

His fingers twitched uselessly at his sides, unable to even form a fist.

Move! Move, damn you! he screamed inside his own mind. His heart shattered with every new scream from Gorr.

He had ordered the skinning of that village girl without hesitation, never imagining his own blood would suffer the same fate.

Now he was forced to watch... helpless, paralyzed, unable to look away... as Sol methodically stripped his son’s face off like an animal hide.

A guttural, broken sound finally tore from Vane’s throat... half sob, half roar... but it was swallowed by the dominion.

His eyes locked onto Sol’s blood-drenched figure with pure, murderous hatred... and utter helplessness.

The proud chief who had orchestrated so much suffering could do nothing but witness the slow, living flaying of his heir.

...

Gorr hit the ground heavily, rolling and writhing in the red slush as his raw nerves touched the dry clay, his fingers clawing at his own exposed meat as he drowned in his own blood.

He didn’t die instantly; his strong Layer 2 vitality kept his heart thumping furiously, forcing him to scream continuously and experience every single microsecond of the torturous torment until his breathing finally collapsed.

Sol stood over the dying prince, his breath coming in a long, slow exhale.

He casually tossed the fresh piece of leather onto the ground beside the prince’s twitching body, his eyes staring blankly at the horizon, as he had finally avenged–

Suddenly, a massive, violent wave of dizziness hit his brain.

The world around him seemed to tilt to the side, the grey slate cliffs of the pass spinning in wild, blurry circles.

Sol’s knees buckled slightly, and he had to violently drive the tip of the Dreadwing Blade deep into the cracked clay just to keep his body from falling face-first into the mud.

A heavy, suffocating exhaustion slammed into his muscles, making his black Rockhorn carapace feel like a mountain of lead resting on his shoulders.

He just found out that beneath his ribs, the molten pool of Golden Silver energy was completely dry.

Holding down a massive, thousands of man horde on a wide-open ground was a humongous task that required a continuous, heavy stream of energy.

More than that, Sol had been especially forcing his dominion field to freeze three true Layer 4 powerhouses... Chief Vane, Zerith Chief and the twenty-foot Gray Marauder Chieftain... for a long while.

As Layer 4 powerhouses, the power they possess isn’t something to scoff off. They had been constantly fighting to get rid of the suppression.

And to support that level of suppression required an immense, constant consumption of refined free use power.

The only reason he had been able to sustain the field for so long was the massive pool of souls he had harvested during his earlier slaughter.

But because he had spent the time focused entirely on breaking down Malphas and interrogating Gorr, he hadn’t killed any new batches of the army.

He hadn’t fed the furnace beneath his ribs. So, the tank had simply run out of fuel while he was occupied with his revenge.

And most importantly, the psychological relief had ruined his focus.

The moment he realized Lumi wasn’t dead... that she was safe with Elyndra far away from this rotten slaughterhouse... the tight, murderous knot of pure fury that had been hardening his mind completely snapped.

The sudden relief caused his iron will to loosen by a fraction.

And in the breakneck battles, the moment your focus wavers, your technique breaks.

Flicker. Flicker.

The brilliant, radiant golden-silver light illuminating the valley began to violently stutter. The heavy, invisible sheets of gravity floating through the air lost their density, turning into thin, useless wisps of wind before vanishing entirely from the battlefield.

The mountain of pressure that had been flattening the enemy warriors was completely gone.

...

Chief Vane who had been fighting the suppression with all his power was the first to feel the weight lift from his body.

His feet, which had been locked into the gravel for hours, suddenly regained their movement.

He gasped for air, his chest expanding as he took a huge, ragged breath of the hot wind, his face instantly twisting into a mask of pure, unvarnished rage as he looked at the faceless body of his son rotting in the dirt.

"The suppression... the suppression is broken!" Vane roared, his smooth voice replaced by a wild, bloodthirsty shriek. "He’s out of that weird power!"

On the other side of the clearing, the twenty-foot Grand Chieftain of the Gray Marauders let out a deep, booming roar that shook the loose stones off the slate ridges.

He stretched his massive, plaster-covered arms, his giant joints popping like breaking branches as his Layer 4 muscle power flowed freely through his limbs once more.

He snatched his seven-foot bone club from the ground, his eyes flaring with a savage light as he stared down at the stumbling human.

"Warriors!" the giant chief bellowed, lifting his massive weapon toward the sinking sun. "The monster has spent his strength! He can’t freeze you anymore! Advance and trample them to pieces!"

Even though their leaders had given orders to rush, and the heavy, invisible gravity of the Golden Dominion vanished from the battlefield, the remaining warriors didn’t immediately rush.

They looked at each other through the swirling white limestone dust, their breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

Their knuckles were white against their club grips, their primitive minds wildly trying to process the sudden shift.

Seeing this chief Vane, who had been dying to slaughter, was totally exasperated.

Then, Chief Vane’s screech broke the spell, pointing a trembling, furious finger away from Sol and straight toward the Veynar forces. "The Veynar! Erase the Veynar! Cut them down and end their lineage! The Black Armored bastard is totally spent and can’t even move."

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