The dust hadn't even settled, and yet a massive shadow darted from the blast's edge, its metallic limbs creaking with urgency.
Cain's eyes tracked its movement — its path unmistakably heading for the remnants of the old city.
But the lion beastman was ready.
He had positioned himself just before the explosion, muscles coiling with predatory precision.
The explosion erupted behind him, and the lotus-shaped primal qi on his back flared to life.
Its petals expanded like a parachute, catching the blast's powerful draft.
In an instant, he was airborne, soaring through the air like a leaf caught in a hurricane — hurtling straight toward the golemite's escape route.
Cain didn't waste a second.
His hands moved with trained precision, magicules across the battlefield.
'Water Ball.'
Spells wove one by one through his rifle, water manifesting from the ether, coalescing into fat, shimmering balls that splashed down onto the path ahead.
With each shot. puddles grew, seeping into the cracks of the terrain, turning solid ground into slick mud.
The golemite, heavy and cumbersome, trampled forward with metallic strides, only to find itself slipping, its weight betraying its haste.
Each step sank into the muck, dragging its momentum to a crawl.
The lion beastman crashed down with a thunderous impact, fist wreathed in flames.
A colossal punch seared through the air, landing with a resounding crack.
Cain almost flinched — until he saw the aftermath.
A feint.
But it worked — even to Cain himself.
'I bought that? I should look these up, no? One day these will be the death of me. The regrets of not studying properly.'
The golemite staggered back, its balance slipping on the softened earth, confusion flickering through its jagged movements.
Behind them, the rat beastmen were scrambling.
Their main loader for the ballista still cooling down from the last shot, but that didn't stop their assault.
The trio hoisted the ballista's tripod onto their backs, transforming themselves to look act like a makeshift fighting vehicle, firing while on the move.
Each shot peppered the golemite with concussive force, overwhelming its senses.
As they thundered across the battlefield, the trio shouted back at Cain, their voices cutting through the chaos.
"'Where's our next enhancement, huh?"
"Getting stingy now?"
"Man! Get your shit together! Give us the good stuff!"
Still not getting what they want, they flipped him the middle finger, a grin plastered across their face.
Cain hesitated, his eyes narrowing as he watched them surge forward, their weapon was clanking and sparking with each step.
He wasn't sure if it was safe — but seeing their reckless charge and blatant disregard for caution, he relented.
With a pull on the touch triggers, he sent a surge of energy their way.
The ballista sputtered with smoke, sparks flaring brighter, but instead of stalling, it seemed to fuel their momentum.
With renewed vigor, they barreled toward the golemite, unloading shot after shot, each blast punctuated by hoots and curses.
The barrage was relentless, a storm of concussive blasts that echoed across the battlefield.
Metal groaned under the onslaught, shards of iron flew about as the golemite staggered back.
Cain's eyes narrowed as he watched its movements grow sluggish, its mimicry stuttering as if confused.
There were simply too many stimuli — too many threats to mirror.
With its instinct, the golemite turned and lumbered deeper into the crumbling husks of the old city, its heavy footfalls fading into the shadows of ruins.
Ragta's gaze locked onto Cain, a silent nod exchanged between them — an unspoken agreement to let him focus on the beastmen.
Cain didn't shift from his position, not even an inch. His vantage point was perfect, his line of sight clear.
Range had never been a problem for him. As long as they were within his vision, he could support them.
But then he noticed it.
Ragta wasn't just watching the battle — he was watching him specifically.
Cain's was alarmed, and without hesitation, he went back in conjuring light beams — disorienting both golemites for both teams.
He felt the drain ripple through him, his energy dipping below eighty percent.
Not a critical loss, but it forced a grimace onto his face.
Twenty percent already gone, but he held his ground.
Nine years of grinding at novice rank, not to progress, but to build. His reserves were thicker, deeper than most.
That sacrifice of advancement had forged his foundation into something monstrous, something far more robust than any other novice out there.
He knew it, but he also knew the risks. If he kept pouring out energy like that, suspicions would brew.
'Ragta was too sharp and too observant. Did he already see through me? Had those glances picked apart the facade?'
Cain's mind raced. Could he still extract something from this? Experience was priceless, especially firsthand.
There would always be another chance, another battle to grow stronger.
'But… the money.'
His jaw clenched. The potential reward from this skirmish lingered in his thoughts like a whisper, tugging at the edges of his resolve.
His musings were cut short.
The golemite, battered and staggering, moved with a limp, its metallic frame screeching with each step.
It hobbled toward the broken stadium in the distance, its silhouette gradually disappearing from his view.
Cain watched the lionare stalk forward, steps measured, muscles coiling with readiness.
The beastman's poise told him everything — this fight was already over.
Each stride was a seal to the golemite's fate was sealed.
Ragta's gaze flicked toward Cain, his eyes sharp and calculating.
Without a word, he raised a single finger.
Cain responded with two.
He needed to rest — or at least make it look that way.
Ragta seemed to understand, giving him a curt nod before returning his focus to the battlefield.
'Come on! That guy was gauging my reserves from the beginning. I should have known I wasn't the only one that could do that.'
Cain wasted no time. He slipped off his pack, setting it down with deliberate care.
His fingers moved with practiced efficiency, unlatching compartments and revealing his personal arsenal.
Explosives, automatons, static traps — small, unassuming, but devastating in the right hands.
His eyes traced each item, and for a moment, a smirk touched his lips.
'Ragta looks like he isn't the type to chase after ill-gotten gains.'
Cain could tell that much.
'But stinginess and indifference? That seemed to be his character.'
Cain couldn't rely on anyone else's generosity for his safety.