Cain didn't just bolt away without purpose — his movements were calculated and deliberate.
Before he slipped out of sight, he left a decoy hologram nestled within the fractured structure he had occupied moments before.
The shimmering illusion flickered to life — an image of himself, tall and watchful, rifle in hand.
To the untrained eye, it was real.
He needed to watch, to see how the beastmen would react to his supposed defiance.
It was a gamble, but one he was willing to take.
Circling wide, Cain maneuvered around the edges where the beastmen's ladybug drones scuttled in chaotic patterns.
Their tiny metallic bodies skittered across rubble and stone, their black boxes looping endlessly after his wasp injected a simple virus into them.
Glancing back as he ran, Cain caught sight of Ragta holding his ground against the combined assault of the lion and the wolves.
Losing an arm might have been genuine, or it might have been a lure — bait to draw them closer.
Cain wasn't willing to risk it, not yet.
He ran just beyond their scanning range, eyes flicking over the hologram, waiting for the outcome.
'Wars weren't won by brute force alone, they were won with patience and positioning. Just like in those turned based games.'
His hands moved swiftly as he traversed the terrain.
Four static traps were dropped in staggered intervals along key routes.
Palm-sized and deceptively harmless-looking, each device gleamed dully in the dust.
Cain's mind raced as he placed them, imagining the paths of pursuit and retreat.
The traps weren't designed to explode — they were built to incapacitate.
A single touch would unleash a surge of electricity, gusting out in a meter-wide radius, locking limbs and frying synapses in an instant.
His boots, of course, were recognized by the mechanism, their digital signature preventing any accidental discharge.
'I had prepared for this long before I set foot on this battlefield. I wouldn't go home empty handed.'
He heard it before he saw it — sharp crack split the air, followed by the roar of detonation.
Flames erupted where his decoy had been, shrapnel scattering like fireflies in the wind.
Another ballista shot had crashed directly into his former position, obliterating the illusion in a burst of molten debris.
Cain pursed his lips as he looked at the beastmen with a glare.
Maneuvering through the debris, the frustration simmering in his chest like a low flame.
'Five percent, that was the deal. The beastmen had offered it themselves... My cut for providing support from a distance.'
But now, with shots fired in his direction, that agreement seemed like a distant whisper, a promise lost in the chaotic skirmish.
'This is what I get for trusting strangers.'
A flicker of anger sparked behind his eyes, but he smothered it, channeling the emotion into precision.
This wasn't the time for distractions.
He circled back with practiced silence, slipping through the ruins of collapsed structures, each step measured and deliberate.
His new vantage point was inside the shadow of a broken building, the skeletal remains of what had once been a shopping mall.
He didn't climb too high — just enough for a view but not enough to be a target.
Eleven stories up in a nineteen-story shell, tucked behind fractured concrete and steel beams, his eyes settled behind the scope, switching to thermal vision with a flick of his finger.
The world bled into shades of red, orange, and violet, illuminating the battlefield in a surreal glow in his vision — heat signatures danced wildly through his sightline.
Scanning the movements below, his vision sliced through the dust and debris.
Three rat beastmen stepped on the shoulders of the rhino, their tiny forms dwarfed by their comrade's massive frame.
The rhino's twin tower shields absorbed the slashes of fire and ice that swept toward them, allowing the rats to unleash a barrage of destruction.
Cain tracked their movements, his mind calculating possibilities and outcomes with each passing second.
To the left, Midi and Dilim had splintered off, isolated but not idle.
Their barrage came from different angles, encircling their enemies with ruthless efficiency.
Meanwhile, the two wolves and the lion were locked in fierce combat with Ragta.
Cain zoomed in, adjusting the thermal calibration to get a clearer view.
Earth prana shimmered around Ragta's stump, the ground trembling as he molded raw stone into a makeshift prosthetic arm.
It wasn't pretty, but it was functional.
In each hand, he wielded scourge whips of steel that cracked through the air with vicious speed.
They weren't just weapons — they were deterrents, keeping the wolves and lion at bay, forcing them to reconsider each strike.
But Cain saw it — the way Ragta's movements faltered every now and then, the split-second hesitation before each swing.
It was draining him.
That earthen limb wasn't just a prosthetic — it was made of constantly running prana, and Ragta wasn't made of infinite reserves.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, Cain knew his time was running thin.
If this kept up, Ragta wouldn't last half an hour.
Taking deep, measured breaths, his eyes fixed on the rifle's scope while his mind raced for an answer.
He knew this was the turning point, the moment where decisions mattered more than bullets.
'If he helped the giants, could he negotiate a better share? Could I leverage my support into something more tangible?'
'On the other hand, the beastmen had already fired at me. Was it because of the boost he'd given Ragta? A warning shot? Or had they already decided I was expendable?'
His thoughts spiraled deeper, multiple scenarios flickering across his mind in rapid succession.
'What if I played both sides? What if I sabotaged the beastmen's rhythm while providing just enough cover for the giants? Could that even be done?'
'If Uncle J was here, how would he turn this around?'
Cain let out a slow breath, steadying his heart rate.
Uncle J never played fair, but he always came out on top.
Maybe it was time for Cain to do the same. His finger rested on the trigger, eyes sharp, muscles taut.
The choice was his to make.