FREE USE in Primitive World - Chapter 355: Making Terms With Past

Chapter 355: Chapter 355: Making Terms With Past

For next few minutes, he stayed like that, from outside happy a normal life noise voices came, as the effect of dream slowly vanished, he also got out from this trance like state and took a deep breath.

What happened had happened, no one change that , and now he was in an entire new world, it was time for him face and let go his past life’s lingering regrets, and more importantly, if he can be transmigrated, it means souls exist and like this primitive world, potential other worlds could also exist, and who knows if that bastard was already living like king in some world with a harem of 999 beauties.

Thinking of him surrounded by beauties, and running for his life, he couldn’t help chuckle. So instead of worrying about him, he should worry about himself and live a full regretless life here.

Only then did he have time to look around at his surrounding, a sharp, the first thing he noted was medicinal smell. Crushed bitter-root, dried herbs, and burning sage. Something his predecessor was really familiar with, as he used to get sick often and those occasional beatings from Vurok and his gang, made him a frequent visitor of those “medical care center.”

And remembering the scenes from his blackout, he quickly did a full sweep of his body, he was lying on his back. He wasn’t in the mud anymore; he was resting on top of thick, soft animal furs. The air was warm and dry. His body felt incredibly heavy, like his bones had been swapped out for solid lead. He tried to tap into his Sun Core.

Nothing.

The usually raging river of golden liquid was completely gone. His meridians felt dry, brittle, and aching. But deep down in his solar plexus, he could feel the heavy, dormant weights of the Dreadwing and the Great Badger. They were totally exhausted, sleeping off the brutal strain of the siege, but they were intact. He wasn’t crippled.

Satisfied that he wasn’t about to die in the next five seconds, he breathed a sigh of relief and slowly forced his eyelids open again.

Harsh, yellowish light stabbed his retinas. He squinted, letting his eyes slowly adjust. He was staring up at a slanted ceiling made of polished, petrified wood. He was most likely inside one of the sturdy Veynar longhouses, tucked deep in the inner rings of the settlement.

He then remembered about Kira and Zeyra, and thinking about how shocked they must have been, seeing him like that, and not wanting to make them worried more, he called, “hello, anyone out there?”

Within a second, the door crashed open, he was just about to move to get a better look, when “Don’t move,” two voices snapped at the exact same time.

Sol blinked, trying to adjust to the rushing light and take a good look.

Kira and Zeyra were both lunging in, rushing straight for his bed.

They reached him at the same moment, both of them reaching out their hands to grab his shoulders and help him sit up. But Kira, with her Vanguard reflexes and pure instinct, was just a fraction of a second faster. She slid her arm behind his back, supporting his weight, and gently pushed him up against the wooden headboard while lightly slapping Zeyra’s reaching hand away.

Zeyra’s eyes narrowed into dark slits. She pulled her hand back, glaring at Kira’s profile, before crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

Sol just sat there, completely speechless and looked at both of them, they behaved as if they haven’t seen his vulnerable side earlier, maybe they didn’t want to make him feel embarrassed or maybe there was some other reasons, he didn’t dwell on that much longer, since it saved his from giving lengthy explanations.

But he was more concerned about another issue, He looked at Kira. That made sense. She was his overwatch. She had backed him up through the entire hellish night. They had shared life and death on that wall. Of course she was sitting by his bed.

But then he looked at Zeyra.

He stared at the girl with genuine, unfiltered confusion. What the hell was she doing here?

He dug through his foggy memories of the last week. Had he provoked her? Had he done something to make her think they were close? The last real interaction he remembered having with her was her trying to seduce him days ago, when he casually ignored her maneuvering.

Out on the battlefield, they had barely exchanged a single glance, save for him saving her and acknowledging her crazy mid-battle breakthrough.

Why was she hovering over him like a worried wife?

Sol looked between the two of them. The tension in the small room was so thick you could chop it with an axe. Kira was glaring at Zeyra. Zeyra was glaring back with equal, stubborn hostility. It looked like they were about to draw weapons right over his lap.

He didn’t have the energy for this tribal drama right now. He just wanted some damn water.

“What’s the situation?” Sol croaked. His throat felt like it was coated in sand.

“You’ve been out for—” Kira started.

“The Warchief handled the—” Zeyra said at the exact same time.

They both stopped abruptly, glaring at each other again.

“I was talking,” Kira growled, her golden feline eyes flashing dangerously.

“He asked a general question, huntress,” Zeyra shot back smoothly, not backing down an inch. “I was answering.”

“You didn’t even fight at the front. You don’t know the full situation.”

“I held the eastern breach. I saw enough.”

“You killed a few spiders. Don’t act like you were holding the line.”

“Enough,” Sol rasped, cutting through the rising argument.

He reached up, rubbing his temples with a heavy hand. A massive headache was throbbing right behind his eyes. He let out a long, tired sigh.

He pointed a finger at Kira. “You. Explain. And someone get me some water before I die of thirst.”