Cain's first thought wasn't about profit — it was survival.
The clash of metal and the roars of beasts filled the air, vibrating through his bones.
His eyes scanned the battlefield, calculating, assessing.
'Save magicules... make it look like I'm putting in the effort.'
A memory flickered in his mind — Julius's voice, rough and edged with experience.
"A strong warrior can swing his sword and sever the heavens, but a true warrior... A true warrior knows a little of everything... More than just wielding a sword."
He had taught him tricks — not the kind that relied on brute force but precision.
'Let's go with enchantments then.'
Cain's lips curled into a slight grin.
An Enchanter Magician — a support class designed to temporarily boost the capabilities of allies.
It wasn't the flashiest of skills, but in the right hands, it was devastating.
Julius always said it was enough to fool even seasoned fighters.
Arthur had always scoffed at that philosophy, preferring singular mastery over versatile trickery.
But out here, in the thick of it, Cain knew which advice mattered.
Julius had survived the streets — Arthur had survived the wars.
Cain activated the voice amplifier on his helmet, the mechanism clicking as his voice projected outward with crisp clarity. He straightened his posture, making sure to project confidence.
"Everyone, I can enchant weapons."
His voice echoed across the field, cutting through the noise.
"I've got sharpness, swiftness, and dexterous hands. Anyone interested, let me know."
The offer hung in the air, glances flicking his way from the Beastmen and even the giants.
The air grew heavier with expectation as the giants and beastmen turned their gaze toward Cain.
His words had done more than just spark interest — they'd set expectations.
The leader of the giants, towering above the rest with skin like stone and eyes like molten iron, raised one massive hand, pointed, and called — his voice like rolling thunder.
"Midi! Dilim!"
From the crowd, two giants stepped forward.
One, crimson-skinned with veins like molten rivers, and the other, a cerulean behemoth whose muscles seemed carved from sapphire.
Cain's gaze locked onto them, noting their massive blades — one glinting with frostbite steel and the other simmering with heat waves that rippled in the cold air.
Giants preferred brute force, raw strength honed through centuries of war and survival.
He knew enough of their culture — respect for the strong and the skilled.
Among their kind, Enchanters were often seen as dabblers rather than true craftsmen — a side gig for the bookish or the brittle.
This applied for both men and giants alike.
After all, who would choose to wave around a gaudy staff when they could wield a sword and look the part of a true warrior?
Cain's hands moved fluidly, drawing his pistols with a smooth flourish.
To most, they were just weapons, but to him, they were catalysts — tools that enhanced precision and focus, much like a staff would for a traditional caster.
He thumbed the trigger softly, not to fire, but to channel.
Magicules thrummed in response, crackling along the barrels, linking to the massive blades in front of him. His eyes narrowed, instincts threading magic into the metal.
The results were immediate.
Flames leapt higher along the crimson giant's sword, the edges licking with intensity, while frost thickened on the cerulean blade, crystals spreading in jagged patterns.
Midi and Dilim exchanged glances before nodding at Cain, their lips curling back in what might've been approval.
Without hesitation, they stepped forward and swung.
Steel met stone, sparks flaring as they tested the enchantments.
Blades sliced cleaner, deeper, with a vicious fluidity that wasn't there before.
The giants grunted, almost in unison, their acceptance loud and unmistakable.
Not to be outdone, the two rat beastmen approached next—one armed with a blowdart gun, the other clutching a crossbow, both squinting with feigned suspicion.
'Those excited sparks in your eyes can't be masked. Not with those bad acting skills.'
Cain didn't waste time, channeling the same process through his pistols, weaving sharpness and swiftness into their weapons.
The rats pulled back, took aim, and fired.
The results were staggering. Bolts and darts zipped through the air, twice the speed, cutting through wind resistance like it wasn't even there.
They glanced back at him, nodding with what Cain could only describe as newfound respect.
Finally, the rhino beastman lumbered back from the fray, hefting a tower shield that looked sturdy enough to deflect cannon fire.
His retreat wasn't one of fear — it was preparation, a moment to arm himself with enchantments before charging back into the chaos.
His voice was a rumble, almost shaking the earth.
"Dexterous hands and sharpness."
Cain complied, channeling the magic once more, his mind focused on the energy transfer.
He knew the secret — energy couldn't be created or destroyed.
Enchantments didn't just add power — they simply unlocked what was already there, optimizing flow, removing inefficiencies, allowing the user's own strength and skill to push beyond their limits.
Cain finished with a flourish, stepping back. He didn't need their words — he saw it in their eyes.
The giant leader stepped forward, each stride shaking the earth beneath his feet.
His eyes, dark and unyielding, fixed on Cain before extending the end of his weapon — a massive scourge lined with nine thorny hooks that gleamed wickedly in the pale light.
Seeing the opportunity, the giant spoke, voice like rumbling stone.
"Ragta. Alup Gigga."
(Ragta. Earth Giant.)
Cain nodded, eyes already working through the enchantments, one by one. Magicules flowed through his pistols, channeling into the scourge's barbed ends.
The hooks glowed faintly, pulsing with newfound sharpness and acceleration.
Ragta wasted no time. He swung the scourge in a wide arc, the air hissing as it snapped forward.
One of the hooks latched onto a shardling limb, heavy with metallic plating, and ripped it clean off as if it weighed nothing.
he giant's grin stretched wide, satisfaction carved into his pewtery features.
Cain turned to the others, raising an eyebrow.
"Anyone else?"
A chorus of grunts and head shakes followed.
"No need."
Cain didn't insist. He knew better than to push giants where they didn't want to go.
As he worked, his mind kept track of the average timers of each enchantment, careful not to let any of them expire at a critical moment.