FREE USE in Primitive World - Chapter 347: Rockhorn’s Blind Charge

Chapter 347: Chapter 347: Rockhorn’s Blind Charge

Veylara just smirked. She anchored her essence into her boots, cementing herself to the beast’s carapace.

But, as she ran, she dragged the bladed tip of her obsidian spear behind her, pressing it down with the full, devastating weight of the White Tiger’s suppression. The blade tore through the beast’s thick, armored plates as if they were made of parchment.

The Centipede let out a gurgling, agonizing hiss. Thick, highly corrosive green blood erupted from the wound, but Veylara was already moving too fast for the acid to catch her.

The wolf’s jaws, lined with iron-hard bone-saws, snapped shut. But they only caught the fading afterimage of the Warchief.

In the span of thirty seconds, the dynamic of the apocalypse had completely inverted.

A hundred yards away, the defensive perimeter of the Veynar Elders and the Elite Vanguard stood in absolute, stunned awe. They had been fighting desperately to keep the lesser beasts off her back, terrified that the Warchief would be overwhelmed.

She was systematically, aggressively dismantling the Sovereigns of the Great Orrath. She moved with a terrifying, rhythmic elegance, turning the overwhelming size and power of the Behemoths completely against them.

But the Sovereigns of the Great Orrath did not know the concept of surrender, the omen Blood in their bodies made them accept death rather than surrender.

The primal terror that had momentarily gripped them fractured, replaced instantly by a suicidal, berserk frenzy. The Stonehide Ursid, bleeding heavily from its palm, and the Nightfang Wolf, its belly sliced open, completely abandoned their self-preservation.

Even though she had planned to kill them one by one, she was forced to fully commit to the melee, completely bogged down by the sheer, desperate weight of the dying Layer 3 entities.

While everyone’s attention was on the fight between Veylara and other beasts, the Rockhorn Beetle, which had been thrashing blindly in the mud, its brain scrambled by Veylara’s spear, suddenly stopped screeching.

The destruction of its higher brain functions didn’t kill the Rockhorn Beetle, it merely severed its pain receptors and conscious thought, handing complete control over to its rudimentary, localized nervous system.

With a sickening crackle of shifting chitin, the Beetle righted itself. And without any roar or warning, which it wasn’t even capable of right now, simply lowered its massive, branching horn and charged at full speed.

“The Beetle! It’s running towards the gates!” a Spirit Warrior who just happened to kill a beast saw the Beetle and shrieked from the wall, his voice cracking in absolute despair.

And even further away, even though Sol had recovered from his trance-like state of Chief’s beauty, and was busy killing the beast, his attention was still on her battle, and he almost immediately saw the massive shadow break away from the Warchief’s battle.

So, he didn’t hesitate, avoided the attacks and abandoned the swarm of Omen Blood beasts he had been slaughtering, his eyes locking onto the charging mountain of chitin.

The world around him seemed to violently hit the brakes. Time crawled to an agonizing, suffocating halt. He could see the clumps of bloody mud being kicked up by the Beetle’s massive legs, hanging suspended in the bright air. He could hear his own heartbeat hammering in his ears, a deafening, frantic rhythm that pushed a thick, choking knot of pure panic straight up into his throat.