FREE USE in Primitive World - Chapter 339: Veylara In Action

Chapter 339: Chapter 339: Veylara In Action

Instantly, a surging river of Essence Born horrors poured through the gap, their eyes glowing with malignant joy as they bypassed the vertical climb and flooded directly into the outer courtyard. Veynar warriors…. exhausted, bleeding, and running on absolute fumes…. hurried desperately to plug the gap.

Spears locked, shields raised, they met the encroaching wave. But there were simply too many. A towering Crag-Ape smashed its stone-clad fists into the shield wall, instantly crushing three defenders into the mud. A pack of venomous stalkers darted through the legs of the Vanguard, their fangs finding the exposed calves and throats of the retreating spearmen.

Casualties started appearing at a horrifying rate. The defensive line was collapsing into an absolute, visceral slaughter.

Seeing this, Warchief Veylara finally moved.

She didn’t shout a command. She didn’t wait for her elite guard to form a vanguard. She simply stepped off the thirty-foot parapet and plummeted directly toward the breach.

As she fell, the air around her seemed to condense, dropping in temperature. The white, ghostly silhouette of the tiger phantom that usually hovered over her shoulder suddenly expanded, materializing into a massive, tangible avatar of blinding light and ferocious, concentrated essence.

Veylara hit the mud with the force of a falling meteor.

The White Tiger phantom overlaid her physical body, and as she landed, it let out an earth-shaking, soul-rending roar.

The sound was a physical manifestation of Layer 4 power. It carried an overwhelming, predatory suppression that slammed into the incoming beast tide. Every single monster within a hundred-yard radius… from the lowest rot-hound to the towering Layer 2 Omen Bloods…. was instantly paralyzed, their nervous systems completely short-circuiting under the sheer, terrifying weight of the Warchief’s killing intent.

Veylara didn’t waste a single microsecond of the stun.

She stepped forward, her obsidian spear becoming a blur of continuous, lethal motion. She executed a flawless, devastating martial art that turned her into a walking sphere of destruction. With a single, continuous, sweeping attack, a wave of concentrated, tiger-claw essence erupted from the tip of her spear.

The crescent of white energy tore through the paralyzed horde, bisecting dozens of heavily armored beasts simultaneously. Blood sprayed like a geyser, painting the mud a deep, sickening crimson. In less than three seconds, the entire vanguard of the breach had been reduced to a pile of shredded, twitching meat.

Sol, standing atop the adjacent section of the wall, watched her with wide, silver-crimson eyes.

He was genuinely impressed. The sheer, overwhelming destructive output she had just casually unleashed was staggering. Looking at her posture… her breathing perfectly even, her core stable, her armor gleaming in the darkness… his rational mind immediately analyzed the display.

He knew instantly that this wasn’t even her full power. She hadn’t burned her reserves. She was merely stretching her muscles.

So that’s the difference,

Sol realized, a profound understanding dawning on him.

He finally understood exactly why Veylara was the Layer 4 Chief of the Veynar, while Zephyra was the High Shaman. Zephyra possessed the ultimate, catastrophic Area of Effect power. She could rewrite the sky and nuke an entire battlefield, but the cost was absolute… it almost shattered her body and drained her soul to the brink of death. She was a glass cannon of the highest order.

But Veylara? Veylara was a sustained, unstoppable juggernaut. She could continuously output high-level, devastating physical power without breaking her own vessel. Zephyra could wipe an army once, but Veylara could stand in the mud and slaughter an army all day long.

Having cleared the immediate breach, Veylara didn’t stop. She created a literal path of slaughter, stepping over the mountains of corpses she had just made, and marched directly out of the gates. She bypassed the remaining fodder, her storm-colored eyes locked entirely on the six massive Layer 3 behemoths in the distance that were slowly, inevitably marching toward the walls, because they were the real threat, even if she killed all the fodder, and couldn’t kill them it would all be in vain.

And compared to normal beast, they weren’t pushover, they were strong, and if she wasn’t careful…Anyway, if she wanted this battle to end, she had to cut the head off the snake herself.

But with the Warchief pushing deep into the enemy lines, the pressure on the perimeter violently intensified.

More and more beasts, driven by the frenzy, began pouring toward the cracks in the palisade, attempting to flood the settlement from the sides. The elite warriors and the remaining elders were forced to abandon their high-ground advantage, dropping down from the walls to directly confront the surge and prevent the monsters from reaching the terrified civilians huddled in the inner rings.

Sol didn’t hesitate. He gripped the sapphire hilt of the Sky-Render, the iridescent blade humming with a hungry, high-frequency vibration, and leaped elegantly from the battlements.

He landed heavily on the massive body of a Spitter-Toad, instantly crushing it.

A massive, mutated Rhino-Beetle was currently battering its horn against the shields of three elite spearmen, slowly driving them backward. Sol didn’t wait for them to break. He blurred forward, the latent agility of the Dreadwing carrying him across the mud in a fraction of a second. He sidestepped the beetle’s massive, crushing horn, and drove his fist directly into the side of the insect’s armored thorax.

The kinetic impact shattered the chitinous plating. Before the beast could even register the pain, Sol swept the Dreadwing Blade in a vicious upward arc, cleanly separating the creature’s head from its body.

The difference in his strength was glaringly, shockingly evident.

While the veteran Elite Vanguard warriors were straining, sweating, and burning their essence to a crisp just to hold back single Omen Blood beasts, Sol was effortlessly dismantling them with casual, fluid ease.

He ducked under a stream of toxic venom, bisecting the Spitter-Toad that launched it. He caught the descending claw of a Crag-Ape with his bare hand, stopping the multi-ton strike dead in its tracks, before driving his sapphire blade straight through the ape’s heart.