FREE USE in Primitive World

Chapter 191: Chapter 191: Korash

“The First Soul? But he hasn’t even trained!”

Sol’s heart thudded at the words. Awakening. Phantom. Judgment. He had no idea what the rite entailed, but the way they spoke of it made his stomach coil with unease. Still, It seemed like it could be his chance to get the phantom, totem or whatever it was. So, he wasn’t really that worried, not like anywhere is truly safe in this world.

“If he is what you say he is, he won’t need one,” Veylara said, waving her hand in dismissal. “Take him to the guest-quarters in the Feline Spire. Let him see the city. Feed him, clothe him in something less… conspicuous.”

She turned back to her daughter, her expression softening for a fraction of a second. “I am glad you are alive, my daughter. But the mourning will have to wait. The Marauders are at the gates, and the Zharun Tribe is sending envoys.”

Kira flinched at the mention of the Zharun tribe, but she bowed again. “Yes, Mother.”

Sol didn’t say a word as Kira led him out of the hall. He felt Zephyra’s gaze… and her spirit smoke…lingering on his back until the obsidian-wood doors slammed shut.

…

Sol let out a breath of relief. The pressure of the Warchief and the Shaman was really too much.

“We have to move fast,” Kira whispered, her face pale. “The Rite of the First Soul is a death sentence for—”

She stopped. The scent of woodsmoke and ancient incense was suddenly drowned out by the copper tang of fresh blood and the bitter, herbal stench of crushed poultices.

The village square had transformed into a scene from a nightmare.

A ragged line of warriors was limping through the inner gates. The “Great Bone” arches of the city, which had looked majestic moments ago, now felt like the ribcage of a dying beast. Men and women were being carried on stretchers of woven vine; others leaned heavily on notched spears, their leather armor shredded as if by giant claws. Healers in ash-stained robes darted between the fallen, pressing clumps of glowing green moss into jagged wounds to stem the flow of crimson.

Kira’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes darting between the wounded. “They are back!”

Sol scanned the crowd with his Sovereign’s Gaze. He saw the flickering, tattered phantoms of the returning soldiers…a mangled wolf here, a wingless hawk there… spirits broken alongside their hosts.

Sol’s eyes narrowed. This wasn’t just a skirmish; this was a slaughter.

“Kira! You’re back! Praise the Ancestors, you’re alive!”

The shout cut through the groans of the wounded. A group of younger warriors, barely older than Kira, pushed through the chaos, led by a man as the phantom of a Great Boar encased his torso, its spectral tusks shimmering with a dull, sickly light. He looked the part of a survivor…his leather armor was caked in grey dust, and he breathed with a heavy, weariness.

His eyes, however, weren’t on the wounded; they were locked onto Kira, with a possessive intensity that Sol noticed instantly, tracing the line of her jaw with a hunger he quickly masked as relief.

“Korash,” Kira nodded. Her voice was distant, a sharp contrast to his feigned warmth. She didn’t miss the state of his gear and hurriedly asked. “Why are you back? What happened? And why didn’t I see you during the battle.”

“We held,” Korash grunted, his boar-eyes flickering, his voice dropping to a gravelly pitch. “Just as you left, the second team had seen the signal for help, and helped us fend them off. But the Marauders are regrouping. They’ve joined with the Zeriths. A coordinated attack. It’s never happened before. And the sky… it’s like the world is trying to tell us we’re already dead.”

Then, his gaze shifted. The Boar phantom let out a low, territorial snort as he finally acknowledged Sol. His eyes narrowed, taking in the shimmering white tunic and Sol’s calm, unbothered expression.

“And who is this?” Korash asked, his tone dropping into a sneer. “Why is he dressed… weird like this?”

“Be respectful. He is our guest,” Kira snapped, stepping slightly in front of Sol… a move that made Korash’s jaw tighten with a flash of hidden rage. “Korg… Korg died to ensure he was brought back. I don’t think I need to tell you more.”

The name Korg acted like a physical blow to the group. The warriors behind Korash flinched, but Korash himself recoiled, his Boar phantom flickering as his breath hitched.”Korg… is gone?” Korash whispered, not knowing whether from shock of Korg’s death or another reason.

“He stayed back,” Kira whispered, her eyes filling with fresh tears that she quickly wiped away.

He looked at the wounded being carried past, then back at Sol, his grief quickly curdling into a sharp suspicion. “He died for this? A boy with no weapon and a fancy rag? Guest or not, he’d better be worth Korg’s soul.”

He stepped closer, trying to use the bulk of his phantom to tower over Sol, a subtle display of dominance meant to remind Kira who the “strong” man was.

Sol didn’t flinch. He met Boran’s gaze, his crimson eyes reflecting the glowing blue runes of the Great Tree with an unnerving stillness. Through his Sovereign’s Gaze, he could see the man’s energy… it was frantic, jagged, and lacked the steady core of a true warrior.

“I didn’t ask him to die. But since he did, I don’t intend to waste the life he gave me. If you’re so worried about his soul, maybe you should have been there to help him carry the burden.”

“And as for being a burden…”

Sol leaned in just an inch, his voice a cold whisper only Korash could hear.

“I’ve seen cowards before, Korash. They usually talk the loudest when the blood starts flowing elsewhere.”

The surrounding warriors went silent.

Korash’s face turned a mottled purple, his phantom boar baring its teeth, while his hand flew to the hilt of the bone-knife at his belt. “You little—”

“Enough, “Kira stepped between them, her hand on the hilt of her blade. “He’s going to the Feline Spire. By order of the Warchief. Move, Korash.”

Korash’s bravado vanished at the mention of the Warchief. He stepped back, his eyes lingering on Sol with a newfound, hidden venom, before he stepped aside with a mock bow. “Of course. The Feline Spire. Let’s hope our ’guest’ enjoys the view while he can. The forest has a way of weeding out those who don’t belong.”

As Kira led Sol away through the crowded plaza, Sol felt Korash’s gaze burning into his back… a look that had nothing to do with the tribe’s safety and everything to do with the girl walking beside him.