Attalos and the Cyclops were engaged in a brutal, life-or-death struggle.

  The Cyclops, with its overwhelming agility, relentlessly attacked Attalos. Though weaker than the typical clumsy Cyclops, the force of its strikes was enough to break through Attalos’ defences if they nded directly.

  Now wounded, Attalos’ only advantage was his swordsmanship and magic. Outcssed in both speed and strength, he was forced into a defensive position, managing to hold his ground through skill and strategy, but it was a constant struggle to keep the fight going.

  Both combatants had been battling fiercely for over an hour, and exhaustion was evident on both sides. However, the longer the fight dragged on, the more the advantage shifted toward the Cyclops.

  Had Attalos been in peak condition, his vast battle experience might have allowed him to overpower the creature with brute force. Yet, after shielding Maiol earlier in the battle, Attalos had sustained serious injuries. His left arm was too damaged to wield any real strength, and his internal organs were likely injured as well. He might have been able to improve his condition if he could focus on healing, but the Cyclops showed no mercy, leaving no room for rest.

  Just as the battle seemed on the verge of tipping, Seneca returned to the battlefield.

  The two adversaries cshed again. Attalos evaded the Cyclops' heavy-handed attacks, attempting to strike back with his sword, but the Cyclops nimbly dodged. As they passed each other, Attalos blocked a sweeping kick with his fme-imbued sword, quickly creating some distance between them.

  The exchange of blows continued without pause, yet Attalos appeared strained. Every time he moved quickly, blood dripped from his mouth and sides. Meanwhile, the Cyclops was bruised and battered, but there were no significant signs of deep injury.

  To Seneca, this battle had seemed like a csh between giants, a realm beyond her reach. Yet, it didn’t feel as otherworldly as she had imagined. Attalos was clearly exhausted, and the Cyclops’ legs were wobbling with fatigue.

  An unexpected certainty gripped Seneca — she could py a part in this battle.

  The Cyclops lunged toward Attalos with a punch. The attack was simple and predictable, so Attalos braced himself to defend and counter. But in that moment, the Cyclops’ knee buckled as it took a step forward, throwing the giant off bance.

  "Damn it!" Attalos cursed under his breath, realising he was in no position to exploit the opening. His attempted counterattack faltered as the Cyclops, using its forward momentum, reached out to grab him.

  “[Starfall Bde]!” Attalos called out, drawing his st resort.

  The technique was hastily executed, and the sword cked the magical energy required for full power. Still, there was no choice but to release it.

  The bde shone with brilliant light as it sshed at the Cyclops.

  The giant reacted instantly, pulling back its arm to block the strike. This movement proved crucial.

  The Cyclops’ magic-infused elbow intercepted the sword’s path, preventing it from cleaving through. However, the shockwave from the impact could not be absorbed entirely, and the elbow crashed into Attalos' abdomen.

  Attalos screamed in pain.

  "Urgah!"

  "AAGH!"

  The Cyclops let out a horrendous scream as well, its cry echoing through the area. It was clearly suffering from the shockwave.

  In its madness, the creature filed its arms and legs, thrashing uncontrolbly. Unfortunately, Attalos was caught in the chaos, taking a heavy blow to his shoulder as he was hurled away.

  Blood dripped from the Cyclops’ disfigured arm, dark and foul, while its chest and abdomen caved in, a testament to the wound’s severity. Despite the agony, the giant seemed to gather itself, breathing heavily, convinced that victory was within its grasp.

  However, as it scanned the battlefield, its gaze met something that sent a chill down its spine.

  It was Seneca.

  Seneca’s only thought now was to give her best effort. Whether or not she could defeat this monstrous creature was uncertain, and the outcome was no longer something she could control. The future was an unknown, but one thing was clear: if there was a chance, it would only come from putting forth every ounce of her strength.

  In this world, there were parts of the future one could change, and parts one could not.

  What mattered was giving everything you could to what was within your control, without wasting energy on things beyond your reach.

  Seneca shed all unnecessary thoughts and entered a state of deep concentration.

  His eyes locked with the Cyclops from a distance.

  In an almost surreal moment, she felt the Cyclops' intent reach her, as though their minds were connected.

  ‘Come at me.’

  Such a powerful, defiant feeling stirred something within Seneca. No adventurer could remain indifferent to such an invitation.

  With a determined shout, Seneca responded:

  "Come at me!"

  At that moment, both combatants surged forward, moving as one.

  For Seneca, the world seemed to stretch and slow. Her senses sharpened to the finest detail, and she could feel the ground beneath her feet with extraordinary crity. The sensation of the hilt of her sword in her left hand bolstered her confidence.

  Seneca had been formuting one idea for this moment — to "sew" the Cyclops’ body like a frenzied tailor.

  But she knew that method would not be quick enough. Even if the Cyclops was fatigued, her pn would not work in time.

  She needed to act faster. She needed to strike harder.

  Only then could she hope to reach the Cyclops.

  But how?

  As the world slowed around her, Seneca sank deeper into thought.

  Her feet no longer allowed her to halt. The Cyclops was coming straight at her, its eyes burning with madness and malevolence.

  The final moment approached.

  One strike. Just one.

  If she could nd a faster and stronger blow, it would end the fight.

  And with that resolve, Seneca felt the wind against her cheek.

  That’s it!

  There was still something left to stitch!

  Plenty still to be done!

  As the two were about to collide, Seneca's magic surged, her hand gripping the sword's hilt tightly.

  "This strike is everything!" she shouted.

  With a single step forward, she drew her bde.

  Magic drained from her as if consumed by the very air around her.

  "YAHH!!"

  And Seneca stitched the air itself.

  A sharp, high-pitched sound like metal striking metal rang through the air, accelerating Seneca’s movements.

  The pressure against her body was intense, pulling her forward almost against her will.

  She swung her sword, but the strike felt empty, as though it had missed its target entirely.

  Had she failed?

  As she looked back, Seneca saw the Cyclops' lower half colpse to the ground, severed cleanly.

  Level 3 attained. [Non-material Stitching] is now avaible. Interference power greatly increased. Physical capabilities greatly enhanced. Sub-skill [Pin] unlocked.

  Seneca heard the voice echo in her mind, the sound marking the moment her mind had reached a new threshold.