The air hung heavy with tension as Cyrus approached, his voice tinged with desperation. "It was a false one. The primordial canine never left the Villa. I wouldn't have done anything that could harm you. Please believe in me," he pleaded, his eyes searching Leora's face for any sign of understanding.

Leora's voice trembled with a mixture of anger and heartbreak as she responded, her words cutting through the space between them. "Never do anything to harm me? I gave you everything, Cyrus - my body, my heart. You said you loved me. Why didn't you tell me the truth?"

Confusion flickered across Cyrus's features. "Which truth are you talking about?" he asked, his brow furrowing.

The dam of Leora's emotions burst forth, her voice rising with each word. "I can't believe it. You're such an egoistic bastard doubled of a liar. Why didn't you tell me my real father was alive? Why, Cyrus? You knew how much it counted for me. Why?" Her small hands gripped his collar, her fists pounding against his chest as tears streamed down her face, leaving glistening trails on her flushed cheeks.

Cyrus fell silent, the weight of his knowledge pressing down upon him. The truth had been a burden he'd carried since his trip with the queen, a secret that threatened to unravel everything. He had pieced together the puzzle - the man Dargos sought was the queen's husband from before her transformation. Leora had been conceived prior to the queen's union with the lion canine leader. Dargos's hatred for the queen stemmed from the bitter history between the panther and lion canine families. His goal was to force the old man to reveal the truth, thus destroying the queen's credibility and power.

The memory of that fateful trip replayed in Cyrus's mind - the queen had chosen him alone, her loyal dog, carefully erasing his memories afterward to preserve her secret for eternity. But some truths refuse to stay buried.

Cyrus's voice was barely above a whisper as he finally spoke. "I... I was afraid it would destroy you."

"Like always," Leora spat, her hand connecting with her own face in frustration. "You've always been afraid, afraid of everything. I was stupid to think I could love someone like you."

Something snapped within Cyrus, his own frustration and anger bubbling to the surface. His voice rose, matching Leora's intensity. "You can speak, but you're not different. You knew the queen did those dirty experiments on the children of the island. Yet you didn't do anything, and you dare to call me a liar and egoistic?"

Leora's eyes flashed dangerously. "Now you blame me? Is it my fault if you couldn't tell the truth? I hate you. Leave this place. Go and die somewhere else!" She pushed him with all her might, her words laced with venom.

Cyrus stumbled backward, losing his balance and falling to the ground. Their eyes met, and he saw nothing of the love that had once shone in those beautiful orbs. Now, they were filled with hatred and anger, a storm of emotions that threatened to consume them both.

"You think you're special, that you're different just because you were born here," Cyrus said, his voice low and bitter. "You aren't different from your mother. I regret coming here. I regret meeting you. I regret falling in love with you."

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The words hung in the air like a death knell. Leora crumpled to her knees, the fight draining from her body. Cyrus pushed himself to his feet, turning away without another word. His solitary figure grew smaller as he walked away, disappearing into the horizon, leaving behind the shattered remains of their relationship.

Cyrus's feet carried him back to where it all began - the old building that had been his home. Despite the numerous fissures that scarred its facade, it still stood defiantly against the chaos that surrounded it. In the distance, flames raged, painting the sky in shades of orange and red. The earth trembled beneath his feet, a constant reminder of the impending doom that threatened to swallow them all.

As he ascended the stairs, the familiar screech of metal against metal echoed through the empty halls. Cyrus made his way along the corridors, passing apartments with doors flung open, their contents strewn about by the relentless quakes.

He pushed open the door to his old home, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. "It hasn't changed," he murmured to himself. The window flapped incessantly, drawing his attention to the view outside. The chaos was intensifying, and Cyrus knew in his heart that Lionore was at the center of it all. But in his current state, there was nothing he could do. He was powerless to stop whatever was coming.

With a heavy sigh, Cyrus shut the window, silencing the cacophony from outside. He dragged his weary body to the bathroom, kicking off his shoes and shirt along the way. His fingers traced the wound on his chest - now just a scar, a reminder of all he had lost. His powers had vanished along with his healing abilities, leaving him nothing more than a mortal awaiting his fate.

The water cascaded over his face, washing away the blood and grime but unable to cleanse the guilt and regret that clung to his soul. His body trembled, partly from the cold water and partly from the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. Another quake shook the building, and Cyrus leaned against the wall to keep from falling.

He sank to the floor, curling into a fetal position as the water continued to pour over him. It felt like judgment for all his misdeeds, each droplet a reminder of his failures. "How could I not realize? It was so obvious," he berated himself, his fist connecting with the tiled floor.

The signs had been there from the beginning. Mariline's interest in him had been too good to be true. Cyrus had never considered himself particularly handsome, yet he had allowed himself to believe that someone like her could genuinely want him. It was a delusion that had stroked his fragile ego, blinding him to the truth that now seemed so glaringly obvious.

Time crawled by, marked only by the steady drumming of water against tile. When the cold became unbearable, Cyrus finally dragged himself out of the shower, his body shivering uncontrollably. He fumbled through his old drawer, pulling out a white shirt and black trousers - the uniform of his former life. The clothes felt dull and lifeless compared to the elegant suits he had grown accustomed to at the villa. They were a stark reminder of how far he had fallen.

As he dressed, Cyrus checked his phone, quickly piecing together the dire situation unfolding in the city. All transportation portals had been shut down, and the other cities had declared City Zero too dangerous, sealing off all entry and exit points. They had effectively condemned the inhabitants to their fate, too afraid of accidentally teleporting the karmic monster if they attempted a rescue.

With nothing left to do but wait for the end, Cyrus retreated to the living room. He picked up his old headset, seeking solace in the familiar distraction of his favorite game. Hours slipped by as he immersed himself in virtual worlds, conquering bosses he had never before defeated. Yet even these victories felt hollow, unable to fill the emptiness that gnawed at his core.

In the past, such accomplishments would have filled him with joy. He would have eagerly called Lork to share in his triumph. But Lork was gone, along with everything else that had once given his life meaning. As this realization washed over him, Cyrus felt moisture gathering in his eyes once more, a silent testament to all he had lost and could never regain.