FREE USE in Primitive World-Chapter 286: Intruder

Sol sat on the thick fur pelt in his new quarters. He cycled his breathing, mentally reviewing the intricate rhythm of the Breath of Dawn technique he had just acquired. He needed the actual sunrise to initiate the true absorption, but mapping the internal pathways beforehand saved crucial time.

The night was heavy, the kind of stillness that preceded a storm.

But the Great Orrath, it seemed, was a world that abhorred stillness.

Just as the deepest, coldest part of the night settled over the Feline Spire... that heavy, breathless hour when everyone and everything seemed to be enjoying the slumber... Sol’s heightened senses twitched.

It wasn’t a sound that alerted him. The heavy, intricately carved double doors of his new quarters were thick enough to muffle the footsteps of a charging rhinoceros. Instead, it was a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in the ambient essence of the room. The Golden Liquid resting in his solar plexus, vast and calm like a sleeping ocean, produced a microscopic ripple of awareness.

Someone was standing right outside his door. And they were actively suppressing their aura with terrifying precision.

Sol didn’t move a single muscle. He kept his breathing slow, steady, and even, perfectly mimicking the rhythm of a man deep in a meditative trance or heavy slumber. His silver-crimson eyes remained locked on the balcony, but his peripheral vision and his mental focus snapped to the entrance behind him.

Click.

The heavy wooden latch of the door was lifted with agonizing, practiced slowness, and the door opened just wide enough for a slender figure to slip inside, then closed with a soft, muted click.

Almost, immediately, the scent of the room changed. The natural smell of burning river stones and pine was suddenly overwritten by a rich, intoxicating, and incredibly familiar aroma. It was the heady scent of crushed jasmine mixed with the tang of raw, highly unstable essence.

Zeyra. Sol’s mind raced, his instincts instantly booting up into combat analysis. The voluptuous girl from the awakening ceremony. The one who had bound the Green-Viper by simply acting like a warm, seductive nest for the spectral predator. She possessed a Flame Core, marking her as an undisputed genius.

Why is she sneaking into my room in the dead of night? Sol thought, his pulse remaining entirely calm. Is it a trap? Did Thorne’s loyalists get to her? Or Is it an assassination attempt? No, that makes no sense. She’s a Flame Core, a true genius and If she wanted me dead, she wouldn’t sneak in, as I have shown enough power earlier.

So, he didn’t move. He kept his breathing slow and even, his gaze locked on the balcony. He let her make the first move.

Soft, bare feet padded across the polished timber floor, stepping onto the perimeter of the plush furs. The ambient temperature in the room spiked again. It wasn’t just body heat, it was the literal, physical radiation of her Flame Core burning just beneath her skin.

"I know you are not asleep, Divine One," a sultry, velvet voice purred from the shadows behind him. It was the exact same tone she had used when she brushed past him in the Shamanic Grove, dripping with dark promises. "A man who swallowed a Sovereign spirit does not simply shut his eyes and dream like a common gatherer."

Sol let out a slow exhale and turned his head, looking over his shoulder.

If he hadn’t possessed the absolute, iron-clad mental "discipline" of a transmigrator who had just survived a localized apocalypse, enjoyed a few beauties and more importantly even fucked a goodess, his jaw definitely would have hit the floorboards.

Zeyra stepped fully into the soft, flickering orange light of the fire pit. She wasn’t wearing the tight leather dress from the ceremony. Instead, she was draped in a single, dangerously sheer slip of pale, translucent silk... likely spun from some high-tier arachnid beast.

The delicate fabric clung to her voluptuous curves with zero hesitation, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.

She was absolutely breathtaking. The heavy, deep valley of her chest strained against the sheer material, her waist was cinched with the lean, lethal muscle of a lifelong survivor, and her wide hips swayed with a slow, hypnotic serpentine grace as she approached. Her dark, heavy eyes caught the firelight, glowing with an inner, predatory heat.

"Zeyra," Sol said, keeping his voice carefully neutral, though he allowed a perfectly calibrated hint of surprise to color his tone. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this midnight visit? Did you get lost or anything?"

"There are no titles in the dark, Sol," Zeyra murmured, closing the distance between them, her dark eyes locked onto his, glowing with a possessive heat.

She didn’t wait for an invitation. She dropped to her knees on the fur rug before him,her movements fluid, deliberate, and entirely serpentine.

"I came because I realized that the Veynar tribe has placed an impossible burden on your shoulders, and we have offered you nothing but a fancy room and an old stone tablet in return."

She crawled forward, the sheer silk sliding against the fur, until she was kneeling directly in front of him. The ambient temperature in the room instantly spiked. It wasn’t just body heat, it was the literal, physical radiation of her Flame Core burning just beneath her skin.

"Zeyra," Sol said again, his voice flat. "It’s the middle of the night."

"The best time for truths," she whispered, "I watched you in the square today," her dark eyes locking onto his silver-crimson pupils. "I watched you break Elder Thorne without lifting a finger. I watched you project an aura that brought seasoned warriors to their knees."

She leaned closer. The intoxicating scent of jasmine wrapped around his senses, a heavy perfume designed to lower inhibitions. She was actively aligning her metaphysical wavelength to his, making her presence feel like a warm, inviting nest rather than a threat. It was the exact same technique she had used to flawlessly bind the Omen Blood Green-Viper.