Cain pressed his hand against the rhino's flank, discretely channeling a boost of swiftness enchantment into the beast's legs.
Its hooves slammed harder into the cracked earth, speeding them toward the heart of the battlefield.
'Sly old rat, why ask for enchantments from the kid if you have those yourself.'
The rhino felt the rat was old and scheming — making him assume it had profound abilities and chose not to pry to getting himself into trouble.
The ruins blurred past — shattered steel beams, dead signage, and the skeletal remnants of buildings that had once scraped the clouds almost a millennia ago.
Circulating the energy from within, Cain's face suddenly turned dark as he made a grim estimate — his magicule reserve had dropped to twenty percent.
Not enough for sustaining a prolonged battle, and even more so for a stupid mistake.
He reached into his backpack and pulled out a thumb-sized vial, the glass frosted and trembled with a slow, swirling liquid darker than night.
It shimmered with specks of violet and void-blue, like the surface of a starless sky.
'One gold per bottle. High-grade potion, low guarantee.'
The gamble was simple — it might return a tenth of his reserves, maybe a fourth if luck favored him.
'Luck, huh. I better pray to Uncle J, maybe I can have some of his.'
But hesitation was a luxury he couldn't afford.
He bit off the cork, swallowed it in one motion, and grimaced as the weird metallic bitterness scraped down his throat.
Tucking the empty vial away — he was careful not to crack it, the Syndicate and other companies offered partial cashback for undamaged vials.
While channeling the magicule potion around his body, he noticed the change in the air as the fog was thickening.
As Cain rode closer, the brief lull of battle could be seen.
Just ahead, Ragta stood motionless in the fog, shoulders hunched, and his arms were trembling as he knelt in the dust.
At first Cain thought it was exhaustion, but then he saw the tears.
Real and raw tears tracing down stone-like skin.
The giant's face was twisted in something deeper than pain — it was grief.
As Cain studied him more closely, he remembered something critical, something he had carelessly buried beneath instinct and fervor.
These hulking instruments of nature — were still children just like himself.
Ragta looked no older than ten while Midi and Dilim, even younger.
Ragta had gathered the remains of his fallen brother into his arms, cradling the charred skeleton with the care of someone who couldn't comprehend how suddenly everything had ended.
Cain dismounted, stepping carefully over the cracked stone and scorched earth.
He crouched beside the sitting giant, his hand hovering for a moment before lowering onto the bones.
Placing his hand on the scorched bones of Ragta's brother — while the embers still glowed faintly beneath the surface, and the sharp scent of burning flesh lingered as marrow hissed and bubbled from the cracks.
Cain extinguished the flames, a last deed he could do for the brief comrade-in-arms.
Giving a slow, quiet shake of his head, fingers curling around the edge of a blackened rib as if to say goodbye.
Ragta turned away, unable to meet Cain's eyes — but his sobbing deepened.
It wasn't wild or loud, it was the kind that spilled from someone holding too much for too long.
The kind that didn't ask for comfort, just a brief permission to grieve.
In that moment, Cain looked more like the brother than Ragta did.
That cut the giants heart deeper than any blade.
Cain's own tears came uninvited, his muscles burned, he could feel them bruised inside and out.
But none of that compared to the ache of knowing he had nothing.
'No spare armor. No full reserves. Not even enough money to buy gears if I looked for a job in the city.'
He stood slowly, staggered a on his feet a little and then lost footing.
As he rolled on the ground — and as the others turned away, he took the lion's backback behind the rubble.
Same model as his own, the same metallic shell — a perfect fit.
In the shadows of the ruins, with the night folding in around him like an old friend, Cain clutched it close.
'Let them think it was always mine. Let darkness be my alibi, just this once...'
Cain gestured toward the rhino with a casual flick of his wrist, his voice feigning calm as he tried to suppress his tears.
"Just take his gear."
His tone was sincere, almost thankful, and the words settled in the air like a favor.
The giants, still reeling from grief and adrenaline, turned to him with wide, grateful eyes.
They didn't question it.
To them, Cain had become a silent guardian — saving their lives not through overwhelming power, but through unpredictable intervention.
And now, by surrendering the beastmen, he had offered them tools to survive the battles ahead
They even glanced at the rats with hungry eyes — a primal gleam in their expressions, where practicality and starvation wore the mask of vengeful justice.
Cain's lips twitched upward, just slightly, but he caught himself.
He couldn't let the satisfaction show.
'Not here. Inhale... Exhale...'
Without a word, he gave a short wave to the giants — a gesture that danced between a farewell and a dismissal.
He ran so fast that they weren't even able to voice out their words of thanks.
The twin tower shields from the unsuspecting rhino would bolster their defenses and it was enough to earn Cain their favor — enough to keep them from asking questions.
After all, in less than an hour, this single human had changed the course of their battle more than any general or war chant ever had.
The giants might be prideful, but they never forgot to keep tabs — on grudges and on gratefulness.
Cain activated four enchantments of Swiftness and overlaid them with a single Weightless spell.
He tore across the ruined ground with unnatural force, legs blurring beneath him — faster the first bullet train mankind had produced.
He didn't care about the pain. To him, pain was just an illusion — a barrier the weak used to excuse their failure to chase what they truly wanted.
As the wind screamed past his visor — he let out a stiff exhale, trying to hide something.
Then a suppressed sniggering.
Until he couldn't stop it — growing into a gurgled laugh.
And finally, it became a full-throated burst of maniacal guffaw.
'Stealing from that kitty is just the start! Look out world this Cain is coming your way!'
Cain didn't just survive the battlefield.
He left with the prize.