FREE USE in Primitive World

Chapter 189: Chapter 189: Veynar Tribe

The silver path beneath Sol’s feet finally broadened into a wide, obsidian-paved causeway that stretched toward the horizon. Here, the singing moss grew silent, replaced by the sound of a civilization breathing, of runes burning through the night, of peoples that had carved its existence into the very forest.

“Welcome,” Kira said, gesturing toward the horizon. Her voice was still thick with the residue of her grief, but her back was straight, her warrior’s pride reasserting itself as she looked upon her home. “To the Veynar Tribe.”

Sol stopped. His crimson eyes, now fully adjusted to the bioluminescent spectrum of this new realm, widened. He had prepared himself for mud huts and primitive palisades, a stone wall if he was lucky…. or perhaps a slightly more organized version of his old village.

What greeted him was a testament to a civilization that had mastered the art of living with the world, rather than against it.

Massive walls of petrified wood… harder than iron and etched with glowing, sapphire-colored runes… rose sixty feet into the air. These weren’t just walls; they were living barriers, their roots burrowing deep into the mountain to anchor the city against the enemies, with massive obsidian gates.

As they drew closer, Sol realized the material wasn’t obsidian at all. Instead it was obsidian colored timber that looked like solidified shadow. Sapphire runes, as thick as a man’s arm, traced intricate, flowing patterns across the gates. To Sol’s enhanced vision, the runes didn’t just glow; they bled energy, creating a shimmering curtain of blue light that rippled across the entrance.

Sol could see the phantoms… huge, translucent shapes of bears, wolves, raptors and many others patrolling the ramparts.

Sol looked at his hands, feeling the Silver Liquid pulse in a frantic, greedy rhythm within his chest. The power scale here was terrifyingly higher than anything he had encountered in this world.

“The game just got a lot bigger,” he whispered, the sound lost in the wind.

Kira didn’t hear him. She was already moving toward the gate, her hand resting habitually on the hilt of her jagged bone-sword. Her heart was set on the city of her people, seeking the cold comfort of her kin after the slaughter she had witnessed.

As they reached the shadow of the massive gates, Sol felt a sudden, sharp pressure in the air. He looked up.

Perched on the edge of the battlements, staring down with eyes like burning coals, was a guard. He didn’t look like the mud-smeared hunters Sol knew. He wore armor made of overlapping chitin plates, polished to a high sheen, but the most striking part was the creature on his shoulder.

A translucent Hawk phantom, its wingspan reaching at least ten feet, was draped over the guard’s back. Its feathers were made of sapphire flame, and as it shrieked, the sound vibrated through Sol’s chest like a physical blow.

“Kira!” the guard roared, his voice amplified by the hawk’s power. “We saw the retreat signal from the Breach! Where are the others? Wasn’t Korg with you?

And who is this… thing you bring to our gates?”

Kira stopped, her head bowing low. Her shoulders shook for a moment before she regained her composure.

The Hawk leaned forward, its beak opening to reveal a throat of pure white energy. Sol didn’t flinch, but his crimson eyes locked onto the guard’s. He felt the Silver Liquid in his heart coil, ready to be unleashed.

“They are… still behind,” she said, her voice hollow. “Korg is no more. The Marauders… they had help from Zerith with them. They suddenly attacked, and there were many casualties but suddenly seeing the divine one appear I had no choice but to bring him to the tribe first, to avoid him getting hurt and inviting the wrath of a god. ”

The guards went silent. The air seemed to grow ten degrees colder. Korg was clearly a man of significance, a pillar of their defense, and his loss was a physical blow to the tribe’s morale.

The guard with the hawk finally shifted his gaze to Sol. The hawk phantom shrieked, its wings fluttering in agitation.

“And who is this? Is he the divine one?” the guard asked, his hand dropping to the hilt of a stone-headed mace.

Kira shouted back, her voice ringing with an authority that surprised Sol. “Open the gates!”

“Yes! He is, Arkan!” Kira shouted back, her voice ringing with an authority that surprised Sol, stepping slightly in front of Sol, though whether to protect him or the guards was unclear. “I found him at the center of the Breach. He has no clan, no weapon… but he survived.”

The guard narrowed his eyes. “Survived? In the center of a Marauder attack? Without a Totem?”

The guard, Arkan, narrowed his eyes. He looked at Sol… really looked at him. He saw the shimmering, unsoiled white tunic that glowed with a celestial light. He saw the crimson eyes that didn’t hold the fear of a savage. In the legends of the Veynar, only the “Divine Ones”… the messengers of gods… wore garments that looked like woven starlight.

“The Cloth…” the guard whispered, his aggressive stance wavering. “Is he truly one of them?”

“Open the gates!” the guard finally commanded, though his eyes never left Sol. “Take him directly to the chief. And Kira… if he tries to do something, kill him, even if he is a divine one. We can’t get any worse than now.”

Kira nodded solemnly.

Sol smiled, his crimson eyes reflecting the glowing blue runes of the gate.

“Fair enough,” Sol whispered.

The gates began to groan, the massive, wooden slabs sliding apart with a sound like grinding tectonic plates. As they stepped through, the atmosphere changed instantly.

It was a sight that made Sol’s mouth open wide.

If the forest was a fantasy flick, the city was a masterpiece of architectural sorcery.

It was a city of verticality and a maze of bridges and stone spires. Homes were carved into the massive, petrified tree trunks, connected by suspension bridges made of woven vine and bone. Lanterns filled with glowing bioluminescent moss hung from every corner, casting a soft, emerald light over the bustling streets.

The air was filled with a heavy, somber tension. It wasn’t the first time they had faced a Marauder attack, but the “Red Sky” event had left the populace numb. Everywhere, people were moving with a numb, frantic energy. Sol saw people moving with a mechanical focus… women weaving bandages of spider-silk, old men sharpening bone-pikes, children carrying baskets of medicinal moss.

And more than that, everywhere he looked, he saw Phantoms. A weaponsmith hammered at a wooden log, his arms encased in the glowing, translucent forelimbs of a Great Ape. A woman carrying water moved with the fluid, floating gait of a deer phantom. Toddlers played in the dirt, their eyes occasionally glowing as they practiced summoning tiny, flickering wisps of light…the seeds of their future Totems.

This was a civilization built on the integration of soul and beast.

“They use the Phantoms for everything,” Sol murmured, his eyes scanning the weaponsmith.

“It’s our lifeblood,” Kira replied, her voice low. “Without the Totem, we are just meat for the Marauders. The Totem gives us the strength of the ancestors and the cunning of the wild. It is the only reason we survived the Great Orrath.”

Sol watched as they passed a training square. A group of young initiates were sparring, their movements accompanied by the translucent flickers of various predators… wolves, cats, raptors.

He felt the Silver Liquid in his chest churn. It felt… hungry.

If I can exchange the properties of stone and wood, Sol thought, watching a boy with a leopard phantom, could I exchange the link between a human and their Totem? Could I sever the connection? Or better yet… could I take the Phantom for myself?

The thought was chilling, even to him. It was a level of theft that would make him the most hated man in history.

And that thought made him smile.

…

Every head turned as Sol passed. The whispers started immediately, rippling through the crowd like a forest fire.

“Is he a Divine one?” Someone recognized his clothes and whispered, “Look at his clothes… they don’t have a single tear.” “Did he come because of the red sky?”

They looked at Sol… his shimmering white tunic, his bare feet, and his crimson eyes… with a mixture of awe and resentment.

“Ignore them,” Kira whispered, her face ashen as she looked at the funeral pyres being stacked in the lower square. “They see the ’Divine-Cloth’ and they think a God has come to save them. Only the Divine are supposed to wear clothes like that. I’ve only heard about it in the Shaman’s scrolls. I didn’t believe it until I touched the fabric myself.”

Sol looked at the shimmering tunic Isylia had casually conjured for him. “I told you, Kira. I’m not a god. I got these from someone powerful, but I’m just as fleshy as you.”

“I believe you,” Kira said, a flicker of pain crossing her face as she remembered the slaughter at the ridge. “If you were a god, Korg wouldn’t be in pieces. Divine beings don’t let their friends die.”

She led him past the crowd toward the center of the city, where the largest tree of all… the Great Heartwood… stood.

…

Finally, they reached the base of the Heartwood, where a massive circular building made of white bone and black stone stood majestically.

Two guards with full Bear phantoms… identical to the one Korg had possessed… stood at the entrance, their presence like a physical wall.

“Kira!” one guard rumbled. “The Chief expects your report. But the stranger… he stays. ”

“No way!” Kira snapped, her voice regaining its fierce, tribal pride. “He is the guest and most importantly a divine one. Move, or I’ll tell my mother you’re the reason the report was delayed.”

The guards winced… clearly, Kira’s mother was a force to be feared. They stepped aside, their bear phantoms letting out a low, huffing growl as Sol walked past.