FREE USE in Primitive World

"GRAAAH!" Bruga grunted, his eyes flashing with irritation rather than pain.

Before Sol could even complete his landing, Bruga’s dense, slate-grey physical essence surged straight into the open wounds.

The muscle fibers quivered, the blood instantly cauterized, and the deep gashes sealed up like wet clay being smoothed over by a trowel!

"I TOLD YOU! YOUR LITTLE SCRATHES CAN’T REACH MY BONES!" Bruga screamed, swinging his elbow backward like a rising battering ram.

The giant’s elbow clipped Sol’s side. Even a glancing blow from a Layer 4 warlord carrying atmospheric weight was catastrophic.

CRACK!

Even though his black armor had absorbed most of the impact, he still felt two of his lower ribs fracture instantly.

He was hurled sideways, skidding fifty feet across the white slate like a skipped stone, leaving a dark trail of his own blood along the gravel before he drove Zeyra’s daggers deep into the rock to anchor his sliding body.

Sol dropped to one knee, coughing up a thick glob of dark crimson blood onto the limestone.

His chest hollow thrummed violently as the soul-siphon authority automatically went to work, consuming a thread of the harvested life-force to knit his cracked ribs back together. But Sol’s mind wasn’t on pain or injury, his eyes were cold, calculating, and dangerously sharp.

This is a losing loop, Sol thought, his breathing coming in steady, rhythmic gasps. He has endless Layer 4 stamina and environmental essence recovery.

My agility and micro-evasions are keeping me alive, but Zeyra’s twin daggers lack the sharpness and power to deal deep structural damage.

I’m cutting his skin, but his internal muscle density heals the papercuts faster than I can deliver them.

If I want to kill a mountain, I need more than papercuts."

Sol closed his eyes for a moment, focusing inward. He reached for the connection that had been growing steadily stronger since his advancement... the bond with the spirits residing within him.

First, he called upon Dreadwing.

A rush of sharp, predatory energy surged through his meridians. Spectral feathers flickered into existence along his back and shoulders, and six massive, partially formed translucent golden wings unfurled behind him with a heavy whoosh.

As he examined, he found that unlike other’s full spirit manifestation, only wings had materialized. But still, the sudden weight and power of them still made the air around him tremble. He tried controlling them and with ease, the wings flexed once, twice, testing their strength, sending a gust across the ground.

A faint, self-deprecating smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Seems like without enough practice and experience... I still can’t fully materialize it like the others.

Even though this was only his second time attempting the technique, the sensation felt quite novel. The raw, untamed power of Dreadwing pulsed through the wings, filling him with a restless urge to take flight.

Yet he could feel the strain already... the wing’s form was unstable, flickering at the edges like a candle in strong wind.

Sol dismissed them with a mental command. The feathers dissolved into mist and sank back into his body.

Immediately, he reached for the second spirit.

Great Badger answered.

A completely different kind of power answered him... dense, stubborn, and earthy. Warm, heavy energy flooded his limbs and torso.

A spirit armor materialized across his torso, shoulders, and upper chest... rugged, badger-like plating of dark stone-gray essence. It wasn’t a complete suit; the armor stopped short of fully covering his arms and legs.

Yet the effect was unmistakable. Sol felt his body grow heavier, denser. His muscles tightened with newfound strength, and a solid, almost immovable resilience settled into his bones.

Every breath carried the quiet confidence of something that could dig through mountains and shrug off crushing force. The partial armor on his torso pulsed once, then settled, radiating a steady defensive aura.

He rolled his shoulders experimentally. The spirit armor moved with him, solid yet flexible, enhancing both his physical power and his ability to withstand impacts. Even in this incomplete state, the Great Badger’s blessing was clear: greater strength, greater durability, and a body that refused to yield easily.

He clenched his fist, feeling the enhanced power thrum beneath the spirit armor. The difference was undeniable. With more practice, both spirits would eventually answer in their full forms.

A quiet, satisfied smirk crossed his face as he let the Great Badger’s armor fade as well, the energy sinking back into his core.

But just then a new thought struck him like a spark.

If one Layer 3 spirit power isn’t enough... then what about two?

Sol’s eyes lit with sudden clarity.

Sol slowly stood up. He lowered his arms, Zeyra’s twin daggers hanging casually at his sides, dripping with a mixture of his own blood and Bruga’s acrid, dark essence.

He didn’t try one by one this time. He opened his Sun Core completely, tearing off the safety limiters he had maintained while recovering from his earlier damage.

BOOM!

A violent, suffocating shockwave of golden erupted from Sol’s body, tearing a circle into the ground ten feet around his boots.

The surrounding air temperature raised, hot air rising from the limestone floor as his Layer 3 foundation flared to its absolute, absolute maximum physical threshold!

"Oh? Still hiding more spirit-tricks, demon?" Bruga growled, his eyes narrowing as he felt the sudden, massive spike in spiritual pressure and didn’t rush forward blindly as he was wary of his strange tricks.

"Tricks?" Sol’s raspy voice echoed, carrying a dark, chilling resonance that seemed to vibrate directly inside the eardrums of every warrior within a hundred yards. "No. Just proper tools."

RUMBLE!

Behind Sol, the phantom manifestations of his twin spirits did not merely flicker as partial overlays... they materialized into tangible forms that wrapped tightly around his physical form!

Over his chest, shoulders, and arms, Spirit armor of the Great Orrath Badger solidified across his chest once more.

The ethereal Badger manifestation roared silently, casting a heavy, anchor-like gravity field around Sol’s boots.

Simultaneously, across his back, the six golden wings of the Dreadwing erupted into a halo of razor-sharp wind pressure and hyper-dynamic motion-tracking!

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