The sound of lion's dripping blood reverberated through the tension.

  Bobbling throats echoed as both the giants and magical beasts struggling to keep quiet, their efforts failing.

  Their hands gripped their weapons tightly, feet shifting and stomping as they moved from side to side. Everyone was driven by one desire — hunger.

  Beast and giant roughly equal in size — gazes locked onto one another.

  Muscle tensed. Breaths held. They waited for someone. Anyone to start the feast once again.

  A bird of prey rose shot like an arrow — its ten-meter wingspan unfurled in full.

  The hunt began, motion rippled throughout, Cain was no exception.

  Seven harpoons ripped through the air, a gamble thrown — massive warriors betting on the bigger kill.

  With an acrobatic twist, the bird weaved side to side, slipping past the serrated tips with effortless precision.

  The caws pierced everyone's ear, sharp and grating — like cruel, mocking laughter.

  'This bird is too strong. This might be a variable.'

  Cain observed through his telescope as the bird climbed higher, each flap bringing it closer and clearer against the sky.

  With a pause it looked down. One flap — then a storm.

  Spikes erupted like a swarm of stingers, embedding deep into giant hides.

  Aggravated bellows rang through their ranks, the magical beasts weren't spared either.

  The larger, tougher ones held their ground while the weaker perished in an instant.

  The dead served the living right away. Quickest ones sank their teeth in, tearing off chunks of meat. Those who came later were left licking marrow and blood.

  As Cain watched, his hands weren't idle at all.

  Cain worked quickly, molding odd, fist-sized orbs one after another. Each sphere sloshed faintly when lifted — liquid trapped inside their sealed uneven shells.

  'Runt-class giants, despite being the weakest and the youngest they could really tank down hits.'

  He wanted a bigger stage. He wanted to blow this up even more. Though he pulled the strings, he still played his part to perfection.

  "I better set a timer."

  [Timer Start]

  [00:41:59]

  Deodorize. Light Manipulation. Silence. Heat Cloak.

  Energy Jamming — obscuring his own energy fluctuation signatures.

  Motion Channeling — mimics potential and kinetic energy movements of smaller or larger creatures.

  Cain kept casting six spells, each continuous and simultaneous, designed to mask his presence.

  'I hope this much stealth is fine for now.'

  He breathed deep, packed the vases into a woven sack carefully, and hoisted it over his back.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  As he inched closer to the battlefield, the scene of slaughter came into view, accompanied by the smell of unknown liquid spilled all over.

  Covering his nose against the stench, he downed two gel rations while scanning the area for potential targets.

  'How many livid faces are those. Hmmm. Five at the back, that's enough for now.'

  Five vases flew, targeted with pinpoint accuracy — toward the giants showing the highest agitation.

  The orbs, intentionally fragile, fragmented upon impact across their faces.

  A stinging mix of wild chili, animal dung, and blood burst out — irritating the eyes and disgusting the mouth.

  Rage filled roars pervaded the air, releasing their effects exactly as intended.

  "Xutang nangyan poyah!"

  (These animals dare insult us!)

  A wounded giant bellowed, voice raw with outrage.

  The giants tore out of formation, bellowing as they charged — driven by pure, berserk wrath.

  "Gaw yayabangan ekam gigga!"

  (You cannot step on our pride as giants!)

  Confused and tense, the beasts caught their own scent on the giants.

  Familiar yet it felt wrong.

  The animals calm demeanor disintegrated, replaced by instinct and aggression.

  To them, there was only one explanation — the giants had touched one of their own.

  The moment the giants locked onto them, the magical beasts reacted as one.

  Snarls. Stomps. A rough line formed — imperfect, but ready.

  They weren't prey. Not yet. Not without a fight.

  Squelches of torn flesh and the crunch of breaking bones echoed from all sides.

  Each sound marked another blow, another fall, as the chaos pressed in from every angle.

  He hurled vase after vase in every direction, scattering chaos across the field.

  The remaining giants gathered their wounded and salvaged what spoils they could still carry.

  Elsewhere, beasts dragged off the mangled dead — giant flesh rich with meat, perfect for the long sleep ahead.

  Winter was coming. Hibernation near.

  Each strained move was measured, wary of the stillest foe among them — the Golemite.

  In the middle of it all, it stood still.

  Light suffused its eyes as it ran multiple analysis.

  Inside its mind, the feed was clear—raw, precise, unforgiving.

  Eleven sensing crystals mirrored every twitch, every technique, every savage burst in perfect detail.

  A crystal suddenly shifted.

  Cain didn't move — instinct held him back.

  Magic was a tool, not a lifeline.

  Titans could read even the slightest motion.

  'I better respect this adversary or else —'

  A lurch, the golemite wanted something.

  It wanted to test out what it saw.

  With the second step the ground rumbled, everyone's eyes locked to each movement.

  With the third stride, its figure formed an afterimage, then disappeared.

  'A giant's movement technique?'

  It stood behind the biggest runt, arms raised through the air.

  A punch. Its form perfect and fast — yet.

  The giant dodged it too easily.

  Barely half its size, the eight-meter giant swung its club with a surgical stroke.

  Crack!

  Pain slammed through it like hammer, making its frame shudder and almost stagger.

  For now, pain remained its sole pathway to comprehension.

  Through the pain, the golemite noticed — the giants arms could shift direction, unlike its own.

  Once crude stalactites, its arms began to shift.

  One by one, nineteen limbs reshaped — sculpted with uncanny precision into the image of the giant's arm.

  As if some unseen artisan carved them mid-motion.

  Conflict surged as Cain monitored every angle intently, hidden behind a boulder he'd reinforced in advance.

  'Just as planned, the golemite is getting stronger but… Isn't this too fast?'

  Cain analyzed each elemental channels — their flow, density and output values behavior.

  'Isn't this like the same as spiritual and immortal cultivation? Videos and actual are so much different!'

  "I must write this down. More arms equates to more energy control."

  'What time is it? I shouldn't get too immersed in this.'

  [00:33:41]

  'Enough to finish yet too little for observation.'

  Cain started planning ahead as the crystals get damaged and destroyed — each fracture syncing with the churn of his mind.

  In return, its frame thickened and strengthened.

  What was once smooth marble began to grow joints.

  Fibers formed strand by strand.

  Cain strained his eyes and almost stepped into the battlefield.

  'Muscles. Tendons. It's evolution was too fast. So that's why these things are always eradicated.'

  It's once metallic sheen now squirming like worms — not just the arm anymore.

  Cain's eyes stayed dull — detached, studying, cold as bodies fell in the golemite's learning process.

  Six hundred years of war.

  'They stole billions of acres. Fertile. Once ours.'

  Cain felt nothing — neither pity nor remorse.

  Not for titans. Not for giants.

  'Forget the history. It's all noise. Don't carry guilt and don't die a martyr like the rest.'

  "I know grandpa, your boy here will outlive planet Fracturon itself."

  Cain dashed to new cover like a shadow, catching movement in the corner of his eye — the giants reforming.

  Their formation tightened, disorder fading into tactical intent.

  Even their once-savage faces had turned grim.

  'One. Two. Five, still five sensing crystals.'

  But the golemite, it was…