Several years earlier...

Rain lashed against the bustling streets of City Zero, transforming the metropolis into a shimmering, gray labyrinth. Cyrus, newly arrived and utterly lost, found himself overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the urban sprawl. As the downpour intensified and thunder cracked overhead, frustration and despair threatened to consume him.

Seeking refuge beneath the awning of a shop entrance, Cyrus encountered another young boy. Despite being burdened with a large bag of luggage, the stranger wore a brilliant smile, his eyes alight with excitement as he gazed at the tempestuous sky.

"Wow!" the boy exclaimed, his voice filled with wonder. "I've always heard lightning was clearer in the city, but this is the first time I've seen it!"

Cyrus glanced upward, unable to suppress a laugh. To him, the storm was terrifying, not amazing. Yet there was something infectious about the little boy's enthusiasm, a vibrant energy that seemed to push back against the gloom.

As if they were old friends reunited, the two boys began to chat, their conversation flowing easily from topic to topic. When the rain finally began to subside, the stranger turned to leave but halted mid-step. Pivoting back to face Cyrus, he offered a wide grin.

"Are you lost, buddy? I know all the ins and outs of the vicinity!"

Cyrus smiled at the memory, shaking his head in amusement. "I naively thought you were right," he said, his words tinged with fondness.

Lork scratched his head sheepishly. "I knew the way, I just forgot."

"Forgot?" Cyrus scoffed good-naturedly. "It took us a week to figure out you didn't know anything!"

"Yeah, well..." Lork admitted, draining his cup. "I actually just didn't want to stay alone."

Cyrus fell silent, momentarily speechless. Part of him wanted to punch Lork for the deception, but a larger part was touched by the vulnerability of the admission.

"Don't worry," Lork continued, his tone growing serious. "We'll help you save your father. I'm so glad we met, you know? You're the brother I've always asked for." He raised his glass in a toast.

Cyrus mirrored the gesture, their glasses clinking together before they drank. Suddenly, Lork spat, the liquid spraying across Cyrus's shirt. "Damn," Cyrus grumbled, rising in frustration, his entire body now covered in the viscous substance.

"Why don't you serve us a little more?" Lork suggested with a wave of his hand. Though annoyed, Cyrus complied, making his way to the kitchen. As he pulled the liquor from the fridge, a sharp, breaking sound echoed through the air.

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Alarmed, Cyrus hurried back toward the living room, only to find his path blocked by an invisible barrier—the same type of protection Lork had used to shield him from the Bureau during their first encounter. What Cyrus witnessed beyond that impenetrable wall would haunt him for the rest of his days.

A shimmering portal materialized in the center of the room, disgorging Nemesis and a contingent of Bureau agents. The non-humans, caught completely off-guard, scrambled for their weapons. But their efforts were futile; this wasn't a fight—it was a massacre.

Blood quickly stained the floor and furniture as agonized cries filled the air. Nemesis approached Lork with predatory grace, his intentions clear.

Lork drew his dagger and lunged, but Nemesis effortlessly sidestepped the attack, spinning to appear behind his opponent. "You're slower than the last time we met," Nemesis taunted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Shut up!" Lork screamed, pivoting to strike again. But with only one arm, he was hopelessly outmatched. Cyrus watched in horror as Nemesis's blade pierced Lork's chest, emerging from his back in a spray of crimson.

"To think a puny resistance like yours caused us so much trouble," Nemesis mused, kicking Lork's body aside as he cleaned his blade. "You should thank your friend. It's all thanks to him we could find this place."

The realization hit Cyrus like a physical blow, leaving him reeling. In his desperation, he had been careless, forgetting that the Bureau was always on his trail. Was this their plan all along? To destabilize him, to make him commit such a novice error, all to exterminate Lork and the resistance?

Cyrus's vision blurred, his hands seeming to drip with blood though he hadn't raised a finger in the fight. He threw himself against the barrier, pounding futilely against its unyielding surface.

"If he dies, no one will save his father," Lork gasped, his words seemingly directed at no one in particular. "He can't die now."

"Have you lost your mind already?" Nemesis asked, confusion evident in his tone.

Cyrus found himself paralyzed, trembling violently as he struggled against his own immobility. He had a plan, but the chances of failure were astronomically high. "It doesn't matter, give it a try, Cyrus," he urged himself silently. But doubt crept in, whispering of failure and death. "Shut up, move Cyrus!" he screamed internally, but his body remained frozen.

His shadow seemed to resurface, as if the fear he thought he had conquered after all his adventures was now staring at him with a wicked smile.

Lork's bloodied face turned towards Cyrus, a ghost of his usual grin still visible. "Yeah, he did make a little mistake," Lork choked out, "but believe me, because of this mistake, your head will be the next to go."

"Shut up," Nemesis snarled, grinding his heel into Lork's face.

"I had a fulfilling life," Lork continued, undeterred. "I don't regret anything. Might be just not seeing you go in for smooth and not chicken out." His laughter faded along with his life, leaving behind an eerie silence.

"Let's move," Nemesis ordered, gesturing towards the portal. "We still have a few places to visit." Before stepping through, he cast a final glance towards the kitchen, a knowing smile playing across his lips as he vanished into the void.

As soon as they were gone, Cyrus's body finally responded. He collapsed to the ground, crawling through the blood-soaked floor to reach his fallen friend. Lork's face still held that characteristic smile, but his once vibrant blue eyes—always full of life and vigor—were now dim and lifeless.

Cyrus tilted his head back and screamed to the heavens, his heart burning with an inferno of fury and grief. Tears of blood seemed to flow from his eyes as he howled his anguish. "Nemesis!" he roared, his voice raw and primal. His canines flashed as he unleashed a bestial cry that shook the very foundations of the building, a promise of vengeance that would echo through the years to come.