The glow of the bolt vanished the moment it left the ballista.
Enclosed within a jagged opening formed from the collapsed bones of a long-dead skyscraper, the shot had no shimmer, no refracted light to give it away.
What had once been a window a thousand years ago was now choked with stalactite formations, nature having long since claimed it. The narrow passage swallowed the bolt's light and energy signature as it slipped through, silent and deadly.
Only an intermittent flashes of red could be seen in merely a fraction of a second but they couldn't notice it at all as the fog hindered their vision. the battle was also too intense for them to pay attention to anything more than their proximity.
No flash, no trigger, nor an omen — but by the time it broke into the open air, it was far too late.
Cain held his breath, watching through the trembling scope as the bolt crossed the fractured avenue in an instant.
He saw the lionare's head turn just slightly, not in fear but due awareness.
'He looks fully unaware at all!'
Not even a full pivot — just a shift, like someone had called his name from a distant memory.
There was no panic in his expression, nor flinch or fury.
Just acceptance, maybe even curiosity.
Midi, Dilim, and Ragta — all turned at once, their monstrous faces twisted with raw disbelief.
None of them had sensed it until that final moment when movement blurred the corner of their eyes.
The bolt sliced beneath Ragta's massive arms, nicking a jagged line through the air before grazing his face and ripping a thick lock of hair clean from his scalp.
But Ragta wasn't the target — the bolt kept going, only brushing past the giant as if tasting an unsavory prey.
The lionare didn't know where it came from, but he understood someone had finally aimed for his heart.
And he welcomed it — the lionare assumed it was the wolf.
The massive feline didn't move to dodge.
Not because he couldn't.
But because in his mind, whether it was three giants, one traitor, or even the world turning against him — they were all just pieces.
All disposable and expendable — he was prepared to fight them all.
The lionare didn't blink as the primal ki formed — four lotus-shaped shields of hardened ki layered atop each other like blooming petals.
Each hovered briefly before condensing into a single glowing was about to seal into the bolt's core.
It wasn't a matter of stopping it outright — nothing short of divine-class shielding could completely nullify a direct headshot at this velocity.
But if he could soften the blow — if he could create the tiniest window of opportunity, that would be enough.
He wasn't a fool to tank the blow — even an apex predator could bleed if the strike was forced deep enough.
Just before it struck, something in its movement changed — subtle, and nearly imperceptible.
The momentum didn't stop, but it folded, like the air itself had bent around it.
The projectile dipped slightly midair, like it had buckled under pressure, and then —without warning, it bounced.
It tore upward with new force, angling back toward its original target, but now with an even sharper trajectory and renewed acceleration.
Cain had woven two spells into the shell before it flew — Delay Enchantment and Swiftness.
Both burned through his reserves faster to create this construct.
But the calculations were worth the pain. He siphoned energy directly from the bolt's own elemental engravings, borrowing just enough to destabilize its inertial path without killing its force entirely.
The cost was a small degree of power, but the result was devastating precision.
The lionare was still calculating his move when the bolt had snapped the straps on its shoulder bag clean — but he didn't even seem to notice.
The aura around the lionare suddenly shifted — he felt the toll of cathedral bells beckoning him to let the land be his casket.
But something sprawled out of his back.
A shape erupted behind the lion in a wave of obsidian smoke — silent at first, then roaring with the sound of power and antiquity.
Cain's fingers tensed as he saw it.
"I knew it! This guy is not ordinary at all!"
It took form in less than a second: a massive spirit-lion, three times the size of Ragta, fifteen meters in height.
Its eyes glowed gold and its mane drifted like ash in wind — it's visage was forged of black flame and ancestral fury.
Cain's mouth went dry.
'What should I do? This is getting out of hand... Should I treat but I didn't get anything good yet... Cain... Think with this brain of yours!'
Now he knew the reason why the lionare hadn't tried to dodge.
He had called for something greater.
The spirit of the ancestor wasn't a mere projection — it was a sacred mark, tattooed in invisible ink across the skin of a chosen few.
Passed down through blood and tested through battle, it wasn't something to summoned lightly.
It was invoked only when death knocked at the edge of instinct, and for the lionare, that moment had come.
He had something no technique could replicate — protection etched by lineage.
As the bolt struck, it didn't impale him, it made him fly midair.
With strength that could stop siege weaponry mid-flight, the ancestral lion grabbed the head of the bolt with his spectral hands.
The momentum carried the lionare violently through the landscape.
His body crashed through ruined structure one after the other, old skyscraper shells splintering like paper around his trajectory.
After dampening the impact — the ancestral lion closed both palms to a clap.
Boom!
There was a muffled explosion, and in the horizon the peerless feline began to fall.
Far in the distance, Cain didn't stop to celebrate.
'Come on! Come on! Come on!'
He had already begun moving the moment the shot released.
Sprinting through debris while mounting the rhino, he weaved through cracked stone as he didn't waste any time.
There was no pride in the shot, nor hunger for applause.
Only the sting of fatigue and the rhythmic pain all over his body as he pushed harder.
He hadn't shown his skills to prove himself.
He wasn't here to be a hero.
He was here to get paid.