Cain detonated another bomb from within, hurling Dilim's embedded sword free, the flames chased after the blade as it spun high into the air.
Cain's eyes tracked it immediately.
With practiced calm, he raised his rifle device and fired.
The shot struck true, redirecting the falling sword, sending it sailing farther from the golemite.
The stone creature didn't flinch.
It didn't scream. It didn't chase. It didn't move.
Simply dropping — onto its chest, limbs splayed flat against the ground.
Survival instinct wasn't it's strong suit — the golemite had none.
But the energy it had just felt… that was lethal.
That was final.
And whatever passed for logic inside its construct mind made a calculation.
This was death.
So it mimicked it — a weak helpless beast.
Like prey, something harmless, easily forgotten.
And in the rising mist, Midi and Dilim laughed arrogantly as they saw the ore intact.
What they saw was no longer a beast — it was a harvest.
To the golemite, the approaching figures were nothing but incomprehensible creatures — unable to understand why they approach its lethal striking range.
Triumphantly, Midi and Dilim stepped closer.
Their hands brushed against the golemite's exposed sensing crystals — dull, lifeless, utterly inert.
No glow. No hum.
It gave the illusion of finality, and the two giants, near spent from the brutal fight, let their guard falter.
Their prana reserves ran thin, their limbs heavy with fatigue.
Then it moved.
With a mechanical roar, the golemite's midsection twisted — and the structure along its spine erupted into motion.
Blades, like those of a harvesting maw, began to spin
Fast. Violent. Unnatural.
Too fast to stop.
The sudden whirring rotation shredded forward.
The saw-like appendages tore into the giants' armor, stripping it away in slivers of molten scrap.
Blood followed — Midi losing an arm and Dilim getting his skull almost caved in.
They barely had time to react — both of them knew the feeling, it was death about to claim them in the next second.
Out of nowhere, the spectator from the distance acted.
A chain whip with two metallic hooks shot out.
As if lying in wait, it latched onto the belts of Midi and Dilim like grappling talons.
With a violent yank, both of them were ripped from the battlefield and flung across the terrain, crashing through dust and broken trees until they tumbled deep into the sparse, battered vegetation.
The ground trembled in silence as the golemite's spinning ceased, its body hunched once more.
But this time, only one dared approach.
A towering figure stepped beside the golemite — shoulder to shoulder, matching its twenty-meter height with equal menace.
Its armor clinked as it settled into position, weapon raised.
"Ragta ngalanap nong apul rakut!"
(I am Ragta from the earth tribe!)
With a voice like grinding rock, it announced its name to the presence of the one it deemed worthy.
A declaration of a warrior that echoed through the broken terrain.
Then, it dropped into a fighting stance — ready.
But Cain moved before steel could clash.
From his pack, he pulled a compact automaton, tossing it forward with one hand.
The machine unfolded mid-air, legs snapping down like a grasshopper's, twin guns in place of arms clicking into motion.
'This used to be my favorite toy... Golemite I'm going big with you, please win.'
Springing into action, the machine bounced erratically — leaping and tumbling like a mechanical jester.
While both giant and titan were distracted, Cain chugged a potion, downed four rations, and sipped caffeine to snap back into focus.
[Timer Reset - 00:23:55]
Rounds of ammo burst around the giant's feet — harmless, but precise.
The giant grunted in annoyance, stepping side to side to avoid the shots as it felt an itch with each bullet.
With growing frustration, it raised its weapon and swatted down, crushing the automaton in a single sweeping blow.
But that was the cue.
The golemite's eyes flared with interest.
It had never seen such trickery before. Mimicry was its instinct, and it moved fast — legs reshaping, joints flexing as it began to imitate the automaton's erratic, spring-loaded movement.
Then the transformation deepened. It didn't just mimic the legs.
The golemite copied the guns — but not just a pair. All seven of its remaining arms morphed, reshaping at the joints, metal folding and unfurling into functional barrels.
Rifling grooves spiraled down the makeshift weapons with mechanical precision, copying the weapon almost to perfection.
Inside each cylinder, it forged ammunition using its own body — condensed fragments of hardened ore scraped from its armor.
The explosive steam it had used in earlier attacks was now compressed, redirected — reengineered into propellant.
There was no consciousness behind it, no strategy.
Nature had simply built it to become whatever it needed to survive.
This was it's instinct — to be the most adaptable creature of all.
As the barrels spun and locked into place, the whelp-class giant gaze turned frosty.
It had learned something like this before — a knowledge passed from tribe to tribe.
These attached to the golemite were weapons of man. It was built to kill and eradicate.
Seeing the barrels rotate, it chose to hide for now and strategize.
Cain watched as the once arrogant giant took cover behind broken slabs of rock.
'You think to highly of those rocks.'
He fortified them sure, under the weight of man it was fine.
Cain wasn't taught by Arthur to stand around.
He was taught how to set traps on the go, to ambush and to kill — all while doing business and acting workshops all at the same time,
The moment giant's foot touched down, it sank slightly.
A clay, shallow but extremely hard to get rid off, clinging to its limbs with thick, sticky resistance.
Ragta stumbled, and slouched forward, His armor of shimmering crystals once used to protect — now a hindrance to keep his life.
Cain stifled his laugh.
'Who would have thought that fancy entrance was all a farce.'
The moment the giant swung his scourge whip, the air crackled with boom — heavy, powerful, unpredictable.
Cain's expression tightened. With his Titan Sensor spell, he could measure the sheer energy behind that single swing.
'That much prana... He's on the edge. One more push, and he'll cross into the third realm.'
"A brute-class giant."