Cain stepped back fast, eyes sweeping the rocks, every nerve on edge.
'What's happening?'
Shutting his mouth up, he started to survey the shardling formation.
He shot with a barrage of nose — no reaction.
The thing didn't move.
"Bombs should do the trick."
He took of a five pie sized bombs from his bag. The size might be small but it could rival a grenade with ease.
With a remote — click.
Detonations resounded, but...
Still no reaction.
'One more should be fine, right?'
Not one to lose out, his hands started digging.
Cold bit into his back.
Northern wind, he told himself.
Nothing more.
Piece by piece. Dust turned to mud from the water pressure.
Then he heard it —
The opening from The Barber of Seville.
"Largo al factotum della citta."
'I better calm down. The song is in repeat anyway.'
As the tune played, Cain sang along.
"La la la la."
"La la la la."
"La la la la la la la LA!"
The cheerful notes danced through the air — the music stops.
"Figarooooo!"
Cain never stopped singing.
The festive music swept away his doubt and fear.
A little winded down, Cain breathed in a huge mouthful.
The voice of the song… now echoed in his own voice.
"Figaro... Figaro... Figaro... Figaro... Figaro!!!"
Almost noon, yet the sky dimmed like dusk was closing in.
The ground under his feet fissured.
Spikes below and stalactites above.
Like a Venus flytrap — SNAP!
Blood sprayed in thick bursts.
Bone shards tore through the air like shrapnel.
Flesh and organs splayed like market meat — warm, twitching, still pulsing.
…
…
…
Cain?
…
…
…
The music stopped and the scent of blood blew all around.
The chewing bones however…
Echoed all around.
…
…
…
[Session Over]
In a makeshift hammock high in the tree, an alarm buzzed through a terminal.
Cain stretched and glanced at his tablet.
'Is it over?'
"I guess that elephant was no more."
Click — Boom!
The plains shook with four blasts.
Blood spewed wide, misting the air in a dark, metallic fog that hung heavy on the skin.
'Let's see how things had progressed.'
As the stench of blood wafted through the air, it started drawing attention.
First came the insects — tiny legs skittering, wings buzzing, drawn to death like instinct.
Proboscises pierced flesh, mandibles clicking with each bite.
While the bugs feasted, a gust of wind billowed from every direction.
Carnivorous birds circled low, arriving just heartbeats later.
Beaks plunged deep, tearing flesh, drinking marrow.
The smaller birds? They snatched up the bugs — the feeders now food.
The magical beasts were not to be outdone.
Bears, wolves and leopards stalked the banquet of blood.
A four-meter brown bear lunged lightning fast — snatched a bird its size by the neck.
Wolves tried taking some of the spoil, ripping tendons and feathers from the massive kill.
Long before the festival of blood, Cain had mapped it all out — down to the last step.
After taking the first core — he was no longer their.
Replaced by a hologram while he the real him dragged the body of the elephant around.
The pygmy glared at Cain, eyes blazing with hate.
[00:00:17]
"Still a lot of time before it slams shut."
He had dragged the still-living elephant to metal maw — methodical, precise, without hesitation.
Bound in layers of rope, a hidden glint flickered in the pygmy's eyes, thinking Cain was a fool to bound him through such means.
The moment Cain vanished from view, the pygmy exploded into motion.
Fueled by the last dregs of primal ki, it surged upward — a flight born of panic.
It refused to die like this.
But its own power betrayed it, sealing its fate.
The absorption of earth energy — a trigger to its demise.
As the steel trap closed, one thought echoed through its fading mind.
'Golemite?'
As the wildlife continued their feeding frenzy, Cain only observed with the calm detachment like an opera director.
Perched atop the farthest tree in the south, surrounded by over dozens of monitoring drones, he was ready for what else might get attracted.
'Still unmoving? Good, just like in the walkthroughs.'
Despite the frenzy, one figure stood motionless in the center of it all.
Towering over twenty meters, shaped like its last meal, clad in gore-streaked armor.
It was a shardling no more — What stood now was a Golemite, an abomination forged from its former self, stronger, smarter, and terrifyingly still.
The second rank of titan evolution. A step closer to sentience.
The older smarter beasts knew what these are — a living learning stone.
The golemite was not mindless anymore.
It moved with purpose. With precision.
Every animal, every instinct and every motion — it had memorized all of them.
Its mind? A match for quantum thought.
But it lacked something men and sentient beast had — execution and common sense.
Their minds — stuck in infancy, forever chasing thoughts too big to hold.
It was as if nature had drawn a line they couldn't cross — not yet at the very least.
Cain watched in silence, absorbing every detail.
He'd seen its limits — its brilliance, its blindness.
But he didn't just come to witness. He came with purpose.
A goal — not just for himself, but for his old man too, even if it was a dream too lofty to reach right now.
'Everyone starts small, always remember that.'
"This might be the key to replacing Renegade."
Tracing the currents of energy with his eyes, Cain imitated how it pulsed through the creature's processor-like core.
'It's progress... but not enough. I'm only hitting fourteen-times acceleration. Still miles behind.'
Renegade pushed past a thousand or more — with ease.
'I just hope… I still can make it before he —'
His thought cut short. The land rumbled in the distance.
Trees toppled one by one from the west, something was coming — fast.
Cain took a deep breath, trying to wash away his emotional fatigue.
Focusing on the dust rolling through the boreal forest, Cain could see a group coming in fast.
Stepping out from the haze — hulking forms, ranging from three to nine meters, each one a walking omen.
Skin varied from black to white with some even having blue and red. Tattoos laced down their left arms, a sign of their tribe, a sign for each kill.
Each carried a weapon that marked their status — from uprooted trees and misshapen clubs to forged steel blades wielded by the more prestigious.
They didn't speak. They simply stood in attention.
Then came a distant roar — deep, commanding.
And they moved.
Not like beasts. Like soldiers.
Their formation, a sign of cohesion, every single one ready in their position.
They weren't here for a party — they came to raid.
"Now for the finishing touches."
With a muffled shot, Cain cut the trigger cord of his makeshift catapult.
The lionare's carcass, over two meters of muscle and bone was flung onto the golemite's head — hanging limp.
Magnets buried in its flesh locked it in place, a grotesque crown atop the creature of steel.
The all predators watched.
Still.
Silent.
All eyes locked on the prize — a rare piece of meat.
That's exactly what they want the other to believe — as they quietly size each other up, ready to pounce on the jugular of the other.