Darin's warhammer slammed into the frozen earth, sending spiderweb cracks through the frostbitten ground. The mana flare burned around his shoulders in a vibrant halo, and the force of his presence alone sent several chicken-men fleeing back the way they came while being chased by darins men for capturing.

But the Cyclops?

It didn't flinch.

Its large yellowish eyeball didn't even blink.

Its single molten eye locked onto Darin and narrowed slightly, like a person staring at a puzzle they hadn't yet decided to smash.

And then the Overlord spoke in his head.

"Wait, you dumb fool."

Darin's hand paused mid-swing.

"That thing is Stage Four. You're barely scratching Stage Two in terms of physical mana output. If you hit it again, your hammer might just bounce off and break your nose on the rebound."

"Good to know," Darin muttered through clenched teeth.

"I'll lend you a portion of my dark energy," the Overlord continued. "Just enough to make the Cyclops notice. Perhaps we can even bring it to our fold. I've tamed worse beasts before… though this one might need extra treats."

"You want me to tame a fricking Cyclops?!"

"Tame. Recruit. Bribe. What's the difference?"

Darin was just starting to prepare himself when—

"Step back everyone, I'll handle this."

The Sorceress's voice cut clean across the battlefield like a cold wind.

Both steve and gumble ran back behind darin.

Darin turned in time to see her floating several meters off the ground, her staff crackling with elemental energy. Her cloak whipped around her, flames dancing in a perfect spiral.

"Wait, what are you—"

"I've fought this kind of monster before," she said calmly. "This one is not subtle. He's powerful, yes, but his kind are susceptible to displacement burns in the inner retinal cortex."

Darin blinked. "Is that a fancy way of saying—"

"I'm going to blow its eye out of its skull."

The Cyclops raised its massive fist, glowing with brownish strength of ki like..

And the Sorceress began chanting.

Ancient, arcane words spiraled around her. Symbols flared to life—elemental glyphs older than kingdoms. She drew upon a magic that bent the wind, chilled the earth, and summoned fire from the frozen air itself.

The Cyclops hesitated. Its eye twitched.

Then—

Two blurs shot out of the mist behind her.

Black blades gleamed under the fading sun.

And the chant stopped.

"Gah—!"

Twin blades slashed toward her back. The Sorceress twisted just in time to avoid the fatal blow, but the interruption broke the spell. Her glowing glyphs shattered into embers mid-air.

She dropped back to the ground, staff sweeping a defensive arc. Her eyes snapped to the two figures now circling her with eerie grace.

Red-skinned.

Horned.

One with a massive kanabo club across his shoulder. The other wielding twin blades laced with a dark aura that shimmered like blood in moonlight.

"Onis," she hissed.

The taller one grinned. "You're sharp."

The other chuckled. "Told you she'd notice. Been watching your little caravan for a few days now."

"You're the ones who've been tracking us."

"Tracking?" the twin-blade Oni sneered. "We've been stalking." Your support on M|V|L8EMPYR keeps this series going.

The Sorceress's expression didn't change. Not one bit of fear. Only annoyance.

"I'm already tired. Killing you will be a mercy for me."

They lunged.

The fight was brutal, but one-sided in its own way.

The Sorceress flowed like liquid flame. Her staff danced between fire and frost, shifting from sharp bursts of force to deceptive misdirection. She didn't need massive spells now—just precision.

And she was centuries beyond these two.

The blade-wielding Oni tried to flank.

He got a face full of freezing wind.

The taller one charged with his club.

He got the club back in the ribs, delivered by an unseen wall of gravity.

She ducked, weaved, and punished every move they made. These weren't random bandits. They were scouts—assassins, maybe, but they weren't her match.

Literally, it's not even close.

Still, her eyes flicked toward the Cyclops, who had now begun moving again.

"Darin, both Alvin and Vincent are busy with the chicken men" she called. "So do something!"

Back at the front, Darin's fingers clenched.

"Alright," he muttered. "Overlord. Do the thing."

"My pleasure."

A heat surged through his body. Dark, heavy magic pulsed from his core—radiating out like waves of pressure. The mark on his arm glowed faintly, reacting instinctively to the surge. Mana flared, heavier and thicker than any he'd wielded before.

The Overlord's voice echoed again.

"Channel your intent. Not power. Focus your will into your strikes. You don't need to kill it. Just shake its instincts. Make it think you're worth noticing."

"I still think this is a terrible idea," Darin muttered, but his warhammer rose nonetheless.

The Cyclops growled.

And charged.

Darin planted his feet. The world around him slowed just enough for the moment to feel like eternity.

Then he stepped forward, hammer glowing with dark energy, and swung.

The hammer collided with the Cyclops's leg.

A boom echoed through the cliffs like a thunderclap. Not from force, but from mana feedback. The shockwave cracked the stone beneath their feet. Frost shattered. The very air vibrated.

The Cyclops staggered. Its eye widened.

Darin stumbled back, the hammer shaking in his hands. His arms screamed from the impact. He'd done something, not enough to wound, but enough to matter.

Enough to be seen.

The Cyclops lowered its head, and for a moment, the world went still.

"There," the Overlord whispered. "It sees you. The next part… is yours."

The ground trembled again.

Then—

A roar from behind.

The Sorceress had finished her skirmish.

One Oni was unconscious. The other had both arms frozen solid and was busy trying to gnaw his way out like a trapped animal.

She stepped beside Darin, eyes blazing. "I'm fine. Don't ask."

"I wasn't going to," Darin said, breathing hard.

"Good. Now let's finish this."

The Cyclops raised its arm again.

But this time—there was hesitation.

Darin stepped forward once more, dark energy still dancing along his hammer. "Do we fight…"

"…or do we talk?"

The Cyclops didn't answer.

But it didn't swing either.