Cyrus entered the grand hall of the Bureau, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. Before him, a series of stairs spiraled upwards in a circular motion, each step occupied by Bureau agents poised for battle. Their dark ore blades gleamed ominously in the ambient light, ready to strike at a moment's notice.
"Get out of the way," Cyrus called out, his voice calm and unwavering. "You'll be more useful against what's outside." He strode forward, undaunted by the sea of potential enemies surrounding him. The agents exchanged uncertain glances as they encircled him, their training at odds with the intruder's confident demeanor.
A daredevil among them finally broke ranks, lunging at Cyrus with surprising speed. Yet to Cyrus, the attack seemed almost comically slow. He sidestepped effortlessly, his focus unchanged. He had come for two specific individuals; all others were merely obstacles to be overcome.
More agents moved to block his path, their attacks perfectly synchronized like well-programmed machines. Cyrus sighed, realizing he couldn't harm them without jeopardizing his plans. With practiced precision, he began to carefully disarm the agents, his movements a deadly dance through the hall. He ducked, flipped, and wove through their encirclement, always one step ahead of their relentless assault.
In the midst of his acrobatics, Cyrus's fist connected with an agent's face, shattering the man's glasses. As the agent hit the ground, spitting blood, his eyes flew open wide. He glanced around in confusion, as if awakening from a deep slumber.
Cyrus's mind raced as he processed this new information. The glasses, which he had assumed were mere accessories, appeared to be instruments of forced mind control. This revelation explained how Lionore maintained his iron grip on the entire Bureau.
Armed with this knowledge, Cyrus moved like lightning, carefully striking and destroying the agents' glasses one after another. In a matter of moments, the hall was filled with confused and disoriented agents. "I hope you all still remember who you are," Cyrus called out. "Agents of the Bureau, what is your primary mission?"
After a long, tense silence, one agent replied almost instinctively, as if reciting a long-ingrained mantra: "Protect Arkania, destroy the karmic monsters."
No further words were needed. The liberated agents rushed to deploy the Bureau's headquarters defense systems, their true purpose restored. Cyrus, having freed a significant number on his way, realized the inefficiency of his current method. The Bureau agents were countless, and he didn't have time to liberate them all individually, no matter how fast he moved.
His main plan still held true - by destroying Lionore, he could liberate all of them in one fell swoop. With renewed determination, Cyrus pushed open the final door and entered Lionore's inner sanctum.
A cloud of hot steam greeted him, the temperature rising sharply. There, lounging in a jacuzzi surrounded by a bevy of women, sat Liam. He tilted his head back, letting a glass fall from his lips as he addressed the intruder.
"I assume you're here for Lionore's head," Liam drawled, his tone casual despite the tension in the air.
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Cyrus's eyes narrowed. "Yours is included in the package."
Liam stood, water cascading down his well-sculpted body. "Your two friends had the same thought before my blade pierced their hearts," he taunted.
Rage surged through Cyrus, his fists clenching as he sprang into action. Liam was swift, leaping from the water to meet his assault. The two engaged in a fierce battle, with Liam's Nemesis shadows spreading out to attack in tandem.
Cyrus moved like a monkey, slipping and sidestepping to engage the group. His muscles strained as he flipped to the side, gripping the void to strike with his sword. The shadow vanished, only for the naked women to descend from above.
He rolled away, but a brutal impact from behind rattled his organs. Stumbling forward, Cyrus circled carefully, desperately trying to keep all his opponents in view. Nemesis, realizing his dark magic was useless against Cyrus's primordial form, relied on his canine power. The reputation of the Bureau's top agent was well-earned, as Cyrus found himself quickly forced onto the defensive. Five against one was far from a fair match.
One of the Nemesis shadows zoomed in, aiming for Cyrus's face. He dodged to the side, his muscles screaming in protest. "You're too obvious," Liam's voice echoed from behind. Cyrus moved, but not fast enough. The blade pierced his thigh, drawing a grunt of pain. He gritted his teeth, gripping the void to force his attackers back, but stumbled forward, blood flowing from his mouth.
Cyrus realized he was in dire straits. Liam was more than just a skilled fighter; he was a tactical genius. "Any last wishes?" Liam taunted, brandishing his blade.
The taunt ignited a fire in Cyrus's heart. "What are you doing, Cyrus?" he berated himself. "Have you forgotten Lork, Neno, or the Prophet? They all died because of him." He slapped his own face, forcing himself to focus through the pain.
A memory surfaced - a weakness all original bites shared. When transforming a human into a bite, the original gained a loyal follower who would obey without question. But this came at a cost; when that transformed human died, the original bite would lose part of its strength.
Cyrus's heart raced as he formulated a desperate plan. With only one chance to execute it, he sprang into action. The two figures dashed towards each other, Cyrus's golden hair dancing in the void. The strands shot out, transforming into lifelike clones of himself. They split off, engaging the Nemesis shadows while a group clashed with Liam.
While his clones kept Liam occupied, Cyrus's true body focused on shattering the Nemesis shadows. Without mercy, he ripped through the women's throats one after another, painting the misty air red with their blood. His eyes burned with years of accumulated hatred and pain.
Liam, realizing Cyrus's strategy too late, attempted to intervene. But the damage was done; the Nemesis shadows lay defeated.
Cyrus's blood boiled, magic leaking from his body as he zeroed in on his true enemy. "It's time you pay for your crimes," he growled.
Liam laughed bitterly. "Crimes, you say? At first, I didn't understand why my old father chose you instead of me. Now it's obvious - you're so blind, you're unable to see the truth, to see reality as it is. Admit it or not, you know I'm right. There is no crime, Cyrus. Just means to achieve goals. To create a world of pure-blooded bites, to restore our past glory. I will eliminate every single obstacle in my way to achieve my goal. I have chosen my path - the way of blood."
With those words, Liam went berserk. The steamy cloud parted as the two figures collided in a final, cataclysmic clash.
As the mist dissipated, Liam's bloody figure lay sprawled on his back, coughing violently. Even in his final moments, a smile never left his face. Cyrus stood over him, his own resolve hardened by the confrontation. "I, too, have chosen my path," he said solemnly, turning to walk away.
As he exited, Cyrus glanced ahead. Despite the distance, he felt as if Lionore was looking directly at him, their souls connecting across the expanse. In that moment, a silent promise passed between them: "You're next."