Cyrus's eyes flashed open, his heart pounding as he jolted awake from yet another nightmare. Dragging his weary body to the mirror, he wiped the cold sweat from his face, his trembling hands a testament to the lingering terror that haunted his sleep. Since their return, peaceful rest had eluded him, forcing him to spend his nights in restless activity rather than much-needed slumber.

His wounds had almost healed completely, the physical scars fading day by day. But mentally, something had shifted within him. He could feel the change, a subtle yet persistent alteration in his psyche that he couldn't quite pinpoint. Determined to shake off the remnants of his nightmare, Cyrus pulled on his training attire and made his way towards the training grounds.

The villa was eerily quiet, the rustling of wind through the trees the only sound breaking the pre-dawn silence. Suddenly, a sharp crash shattered the tranquility, causing Cyrus to jolt in fright, his back pressed against the wall as his heart raced.

A vigorous laugh cut through the air, and Tirag's hulking figure came into view, picking up the fallen vase with a smirk. "Sorry, I never wanted to scare you," he said, his tone belying his words.

Cyrus's jaw clenched, irritation flaring in his chest. "If you're here to laugh, get it over with and leave me alone," he growled, attempting to brush past Tirag and continue to the training ground.

But Tirag wasn't finished. "They say you almost pissed your pants. Was it really that scary?" he taunted, his eyes glinting with malice.

In a flash of movement, Cyrus's power surged forth. Tirag's body lifted off the ground, slamming against the wall with bone-jarring force. Cyrus roared, his muscles bulging and canines bared menacingly. "Your parents have to face such monsters every single day in the mines. How do you feel knowing that?" he spat, his words laced with venom.

Tirag's smile never faltered, even as Cyrus's fist crashed into the wall beside his head. The impact sent ripples through the structure, fissures spreading like a broken mirror. "Sigh, I wouldn't have minded getting rid of you now, coward," Tirag spat back, his eyes challenging.

"Why don't you leave me alone? If it's Leora you want, then take her and leave me!" Cyrus yelled, his eyes blazing with fury. His fist connected with Tirag's face, blood splattering from the impact.

Tirag retaliated with equal ferocity, his own punch sending Cyrus reeling. "Leora? I never wanted that arrogant and unlivable bitch," he mocked, his words dripping with disdain.

Cyrus, clutching his bleeding nose, growled, "Then what the hell do you want?" His fist shattered Tirag's chin, sending the larger man sprawling to the ground.

Wiping blood from his mouth, Tirag's voice took on a desperate edge. "What I want? I want to return home," he confessed, his next punch breaking another of Cyrus's ribs. "I never wanted to come to this damn place. All I want is to return home. For that, I need Leora. That's the only way I have, and you are an obstacle."

Cyrus leaned against the wall, struggling to keep his footing. His recovery abilities were worsening with each new injury, and he knew he needed to end this quickly. "Why would you need Leora to return home? You're so strong, certainly not for her strength," he questioned, his curiosity piqued despite the pain.

Tirag slid down the wall, sitting on the ground with a heavy sigh. "I was exiled from my family," he admitted, his voice tinged with bitterness. "Strength is the only thing that counts to us. For them, I wasn't born strong enough. For them, I am unworthy of being part of the Tiger canine." His fist clenched as he continued, "They promised if I can get the arrogant lion, maybe I could regain my place. If I can tame that arrogant lady, perhaps I will regain my honor."

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Cyrus's eyes flickered dangerously, the walls around them fissuring as his power surged. "Leora is not a wild beast that you can tame," he growled, his voice low and threatening. "It's stupid to judge one's strength at birth and think it will stay the same for life. Like plants, we all grow. From a grain, we turn into massive trees, holding strong against the impartial fury of time. I might not know much about you, but I am certain you're anything but weak. What I really find weak is you allowing them to bend your real strength into something so shameful."

Tirag stumbled back, his face a mixture of anger and confusion. "You're nothing but a mere human who accidentally got kicked in here," he spat. "It has been this way from the birth of time. Who do you think you are to judge us? Next time, no rules. Life or death, and everything shall be decided." With that, he turned and stormed off in the opposite direction.

Cyrus finally reached the training ground, his mind and emotions an explosive mixture of conflicting forces. It was clear now that the Tiger canine's vendetta had nothing to do with him personally; it was all just an excuse to chase him away. He was certain Tirag understood this truth on some level, but still clung to the lie. Hope, Cyrus mused, was indeed something marvelous – it could help one cling to the most delusional of things, even when reality stared back brutally.

As he surveyed the training ground, his thoughts drifted to the recent attack. How had the bureau found them? According to Prid, they shouldn't have been able to teleport into the separate domain, and yet they had. Furthermore, what was the relationship between the Lion canine and the Panther canine? And perhaps most disturbing of all, who exactly was this Nemesis?

Leora was already waiting, her nose buried in a book as she prepared to supervise his training. "You're distracted," she observed, lifting her gaze from the pages.

Cyrus paused, unable to focus on his exercises. "Who is Nemesis?" he asked, the question burning in his mind.

"What do you know about the bureau?" Leora countered, her golden eyes studying him intently.

Cyrus recited what he knew. "It's divided into two main forces: the Enforcers, in charge of keeping order in all the cities across Arkania, and the Executioners, the ones doing the dirty work for them."

Leora nodded, her expression unreadable. "Nemesis is the name given to a prodigy who enlisted in the bureau five years ago," she explained. "He was said to be the best recruit they had ever had. In a single year after his training, he dismantled three non-human rebellions, killed seventeen karmic monsters, and took the lead of the bureau's executioner force. His enemies fear him, and his allies respect him. Both came to refer to him as Nemesis."

A moment of silence fell between them before Cyrus spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. "Aren't you ashamed of me?" Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, and Cyrus felt himself being drawn in, just as he had been the first day they met. She had been so helpful to him, and he wondered if he could ever repay her kindness. Without her, he would have died at the hands of that karmic monster.

"It wasn't very manly, I agree," Leora replied, her tone softer than usual. "But who could say they have never trembled in front of those creatures of chaos?" With that, she returned to her book.

Cyrus's gaze lingered on her seated figure. After the incident, he had started looking at her differently. She exuded a powerful aura that made him want to protect her, yet at the same time, her attitude often left him frustrated and confused. His emotions were a tangled mess, and he didn't know what to expect from their relationship.

It's probably better not to expect anything from this kind of girl, he thought to himself. She's too out of my league.

Aloud, he said, "You aren't really bad when we learn to know a little about you," a small laugh escaping his lips.

Leora's response was swift and merciless. "Training extended for five hours," she declared, waving her hand. Suddenly, not one but five mannequins like Bob sprang to life, surrounding Cyrus.

"What? You can't be that cruel!" Cyrus cried out as the mannequins encircled him. Before he had even begun, his body was already screaming in anticipation of the pain to come.

"Six hours," Leora amended, clasping her fingers. The mannequins unleashed their assault with renewed vigor.

"Okay, okay, you devil," Cyrus groaned, his face falling in defeat. I should have kept that to myself, he cursed inwardly, bracing himself for the grueling session ahead.

As the training began in earnest, Cyrus couldn't help but reflect on the strange turn his life had taken. From a simple miner's son to being caught in the middle of a complex web of politics, power, and ancient rivalries, he felt both overwhelmed and oddly exhilarated. Whatever challenges lay ahead, he knew one thing for certain – with Leora by his side, for better or worse, his life would never be boring again.