The tension in the room was thick, nearly tangible as Lux’s cold gaze settled on Cyrus, his voice dripping with disdain. “Filthy wretch. Just look at that tainted blood running through your veins, do we even need this man, or should we just dispose of him here?”
Cyrus’s eyes burned with fury, his face tightening. “I remember you vividly, Lux. My mother would tell me about the only true monster she ever encountered. I was five, but I remember you forcing my own uncle to kill my father. You, with that same twisted smile.”
Beside him, Noah looked at Lux, a grim edge sharpening his gaze. “How many families have you torn apart, Lux? Just how many people have you manipulated into killing their own blood?”
Lux only shrugged, as if recalling an amusing memory. “Let’s see...the first Apocalypse’s own children were pitted against her, the Sixth Hero and Apocalypse were siblings, and, oh yes, the Seventh Hero and Apocalypse were brothers. So yes, I’ve used this ‘little trick’ three times now, Noah. Call it efficient—there’s no bond stronger than blood, after all.” Lux gave a dark smile, unapologetic.
Without warning, a black liquid spiraled down Cyrus’s arm, condensing into an obsidian claw that latched around Lux’s throat. He pulled him close, his voice low and filled with lethal intent. “You’re fortunate, Lux. I have more important matters to settle than indulging in the satisfaction of snapping your neck. But don’t think for a second it’s mercy. You’re not worth the energy.”
Cyrus released Lux, tossing him backward. Lux staggered, but even in his falter, he seemed more amused than shaken, his eyes dancing with some twisted approval. “Such ferocity, dear child. So, shall we put our personal history aside and offer our… assistance in your hunt for the Black Witch?”
Cyrus's gaze remained icy, his voice clipped. “I don't plan to kill her, I only will if she doesn't give me the item that I need.”
Lux gave a satisfied nod, extending his hand as though the entire ordeal had been nothing more than a business transaction. “Fine with me. Allies then, and the past…where it belongs.”
Cyrus hesitated, his gaze lingering on Lux’s outstretched hand before he finally clasped it, if only out of necessity. “Fine. But know this, if anything you do even hints at betrayal, I will kill you.”
Lux’s smirk was unbothered as he looked back at Cyrus. “You’re welcome to try, truly. I’d enjoy the effort.”
Noah shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat. “Hi, I’m Noah…so, uh, yeah. This whole situation is kind of…awkward.”
Ava chuckled, her smile warm and genuine as she leaned close to Noah. “Well, I’m Ava, Noah’s incredible fiancée,” she added, giving him a teasing grin.
Cyrus gave a slight nod, his gaze narrowing slightly as he spoke. “You know my name already. I’ll work with you, though working with him isn’t exactly my preference.” He shot Lux a sharp look before turning back to the others. “But for now, I’ll make an exception.”
Noah tilted his head, curiosity lighting his eyes. “So, what’s got you chasing after the Black Witch?”
Cyrus’s expression turned solemn. “I’ve been researching the black mist for years. Recently, my brother fell victim to a failed experiment with it. He’s not a King’s Candidate, so he couldn’t resist its effects. I was able to keep it from fully consuming him, but to save him, I need a book in her possession. It holds the key to purifying the mist and restoring him.”
Noah’s eyes softened in understanding. “That’s a good reason. Are you a King’s Candidate?”
Cyrus nodded. “Yes. I know every weakness of the black mist and can exploit them. With my knowledge, our success rate goes up significantly.”
Noah raised an eyebrow. “I had a hunch about you. Guess I was right.”
Cyrus’s lips quirked into a small smile. “I can appreciate good instincts. However,” he added, his gaze sharpening as it swept over them both, “I am a bit concerned about your combat capabilities. I suggest we spar, one-on-one. That way, I’ll know what I’m working with.”
Ava’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “Perfect. Let’s get a sense of each other’s styles. I’ll go first.”
“Works for me,” Cyrus replied, nodding in approval. The three walked to a deserted stretch on the town’s outskirts, far enough from bystanders and buildings. The ground felt almost charged, anticipation filling the air as Ava and Cyrus squared off, both sizing up their soon-to-be ally.
Ava held out her hands, a soft, shimmering light enveloping her as she called out, “Awaken my regalia, Robin Hood.” In a breathtaking flash, an emerald-green cloak draped itself over her shoulders, embroidered with intricate designs of forest leaves. The cloak’s fabric seemed to ripple like sunlight filtering through a dense canopy, enhancing her figure with an ethereal aura of agility and stealth.
Cyrus inclined his head slightly, an approving glint in his eye. “A regalia of your own…impressive. I won't need mine here, though. No offense,” he said, his tone calm but laced with confidence, “I just believe it would be... overkill.”
As he spoke, black liquid seeped over his lab coat, slowly engulfing it in darkness until it was entirely pitch-black. Sleek, obsidian-like blades extended from his sleeves, sharp and menacing. His entire appearance shifted, transforming him into a figure of formidable shadow. A black hat materialized atop his head, and a sleek, raven-feathered plague doctor mask cloaked his face. It was not unlike the mask of the Crows’ leader, yet different—its beak was shorter, the mouth opened slightly, and vivid red glass covered his eyes like sinister, glowing lenses.
For a brief moment, Noah’s heart skipped, recalling the Crows’ ominous insignia. But the mask held its own distinct identity, a stark reminder of Cyrus’s dark power yet with a refined, unsettling control that marked him as his own creature.
“Please,” Cyrus said, his voice cool and composed, “make the first move.”
Ava took a breath, centering herself. Her cloak shimmered faintly, blending her into the background until she was nearly invisible. Only the faintest rustling of leaves marked her position as she darted forward, swift and silent as a whisper.
Cyrus watched, unperturbed, his stance relaxed yet ready. His crimson-glassed eyes scanned the area carefully, tracking her with a patience that showed he was no stranger to this kind of fight. He raised his right hand, and a flurry of icy shards materialized at his fingertips, each glinting dangerously.
Ava suddenly appeared right behind him, her hand reaching for his shoulder to paralyze him. But Cyrus had anticipated her move—his icy projectiles shot out in all directions like shrapnel, forcing her to dodge backward. She disappeared once more, her cloak rippling as it rendered her unseen.
“Interesting,” Cyrus said, the slightest smirk evident in his voice. “But you’ll have to be quicker than that.”
Ava didn’t respond. Instead, she circled him, each step soundless, her figure nearly undetectable. She reappeared briefly on his left, a blur of green and gold, and lunged forward, her fingers aimed directly at his arm. Cyrus spun, his black blade narrowly blocking her reach. As they clashed, Ava’s eyes sparkled with a fierce determination.
“Not bad, but let's see how you handle this,” she whispered, her voice teasing.
In an instant, Ava activated her cloak again and vanished, leaving Cyrus momentarily disoriented. Seizing the opportunity, she flanked him from behind, her fingers grazing his shoulder. For a moment, his movements faltered as the paralyzing effect of her touch began to set in.
But Cyrus gritted his teeth, summoning a burst of cold energy that blasted from his body in a wide radius. Ava leapt back just in time, evading the wave of frost that crackled in the air around him. She reappeared at a distance, breathing heavily as she measured him with a keen gaze.
Cyrus straightened, shaking off the last effects of her paralysis. “Your tricks are impressive, but they won’t be enough,” he said, raising his hands.
Without warning, he fired a barrage of ice projectiles in her direction, each one whistling as it cut through the air. Ava weaved through them, her cloak flashing as she evaded each shard with agile precision. Just as he thought he’d managed to corner her, Ava darted forward with startling speed, closing the distance between them.
She reached out, fingers extended toward his arm once again. This time, she succeeded—her fingers wrapped around his wrist, and Cyrus felt his muscles lock under her touch. Paralyzed, he could only watch as she grinned victoriously.
Ava smirked, her fingers still tingling from the paralyzing energy she'd used on him. "Looks like I win," she whispered, tightening her grip on Cyrus’s arm, feeling the tension in his muscles.
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But Cyrus’s purple eye gleamed, a spark of defiance lighting his face. “Are you sure about that?” he replied smoothly.
Before she could react, he tilted his head upwards. Ava’s eyes followed his gaze, her breath catching as she noticed a formation of icy spears suspended high above her, glinting dangerously. In a split second, they plummeted toward her, forcing her to release him and leap out of the way. As she rolled back to her feet, the ground where she’d just stood was pierced with shards of ice, each one sharp enough to impale.
The instant she let go, Cyrus broke free of her paralysis, his expression calm as he raised his hand. A chill spread through the air as he conjured an enormous scythe made entirely of ice, its curved blade shimmering with deadly elegance. With a fluid sweep, he swung it toward her, its edge cutting through the air.
Ava barely had time to react, her heart pounding as the icy scythe halted mere inches from her neck. The cold radiated from it, chilling her skin as she stood frozen in place.
Cyrus’s eyes sparkled with amusement under his mask, the faintest smile hidden beneath. “It seems, Ava,” he murmured, “that this victory is mine.”
Ava released a slow breath, her tension giving way to a reluctant grin. “Fine, you got me this time,” she admitted.
The icy scythe in Cyrus’s hand dissolved, droplets splashing to the ground as he lowered his hand. He gave Ava a nod of approval. “Impressive. You’ll make a valuable asset as our assassin.” He turned to Noah, his voice taking on a mocking edge. “Alright, ‘hero.’ Let’s see what you can do.”
Noah tightened his grip on his sword, channeling his dark energy into the blade until it pulsed with a faint, ominous glow. His eyes, sharpened and draconic, locked onto Cyrus, a determined fire flickering within them.
Cyrus raised an eyebrow, folding his arms with a dismissive smirk. “I’d suggest summoning your regalia,” he remarked. “A basic weapon isn’t going to last long against me.”
Noah’s jaw tightened, his pride prickling. “I don’t possess a regalia,” he replied flatly.
A chuckle escaped Cyrus, a dark amusement in his gaze. “A hero without a regalia?” He shook his head, scoffing. “Pathetic. The heavens didn’t even see fit to grant you a boon.”
“Oh, shut up!” Noah snapped, lunging forward with his blade in a swift arc, determined to make up for what he lacked in experience with sheer tenacity.
But Cyrus moved like a shadow, weaving effortlessly around Noah’s strikes. Each swing of Noah’s sword met empty air as Cyrus sidestepped, his movements smooth and calculated. Cyrus’s skill was undeniable; his experience showed in every step, every feint, as he danced around Noah’s attacks.
With a flick of his wrist, Cyrus conjured a massive ice mallet in an instant. He swung it with brutal efficiency, the mallet slamming into Noah and sending him flying back with a force that left Ava gasping. Noah skidded across the ground, his body battered and his side bleeding from the impact.
“Noah!” Ava rushed over to him, her eyes wide with concern. She dropped to her knees, hands hovering over his wound. “Are you alright?”
Noah coughed, pushing himself up despite the pain. “I’m… fine. Don’t worry.”
Ava’s gaze shifted to Cyrus, her expression sharp and accusatory. “What the hell was that for?” she demanded, anger simmering in her tone.
Cyrus merely shrugged, his gaze unflinching. “If he’s to face the Black Witch, he needs to know what he’s up against. Coddling him will only get him killed.” He stepped forward, meeting Noah’s determined gaze. “To put it bluntly, you’re weak.”
“Every single time, I’m too weak, why, why am I always too weak to do anything?” Noah yelled, tears falling from his eyes.
“Noah,” Ava said, a worried look in his eyes.
Noah’s fists clenched, his shoulders tense, as a raw, searing frustration burned in his chest. He grit his teeth, unable to meet anyone’s gaze. “I’m pathetic, I’m absolutely pathetic,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with a pained resolve. “I can’t change a thing. I never could. Even as a hero, all I’ve done is join the race, while the rest of you… you’ve already lapped me three times over.”
The words fell from his mouth like stones, but a fire kindled in his eyes, ignited by something deep within him—a fierce, unyielding refusal to be broken. He straightened, his breath coming sharper. “But I refuse to give up,” he growled, the frustration in his voice hardening into resolve. “Knock me down as many times as you want. I’ll keep getting back up. I won’t quit. Not now, not ever!”
As he spoke, the small, dark spots that dotted his skin began to glow, pulsing as if answering his defiance. They grew and multiplied, spreading across his body like embers in the dark. A strange, potent energy pulsed from him, sending waves through the town. Every injured survivor nearby felt their wounds close, pain melting away like morning fog. Starved bodies felt a surge of warmth, hunger fading into something deeper, more powerful. For a moment, every misfortune in the town was drawn into Noah, absorbed as if he were a black hole consuming every last ounce of despair.
The cost was immediate and brutal. His body trembled, blood trickling from his mouth as he choked back a cough. His limbs felt as though they were cast in lead, each movement demanding everything he had. But the darkness he had absorbed surged through him, concentrating in his blade until it crackled with black lightning, a tempest of stolen misfortunes that twisted into power.
With an unshakable gaze fixed on Cyrus, he took a step forward, then another, dark energy spiraling around him as he prepared to strike. “You hear me?” he shouted, voice ringing with iron resolve. “I may be weak—hell, weaker than anyone here. But I’m the hero. I’ll turn every misery of this world into hope, and that hope will be what saves it! I refuse to back down!”
Cyrus smirked, a flicker of respect glinting in his eyes. His stance shifted, meeting Noah’s energy head-on with a dark confidence. “Then come at me, pretender hero,” he called, his voice daring.
Noah’s grip tightened around his sword, his pulse thrumming with the weight of countless absorbed burdens. Black lightning danced along his blade, crackling with the very misfortunes he had drawn into himself. Across from him, Cyrus stood calm and composed, his icy scythe gleaming with a chill that seemed to deepen the very shadows around him.
Without hesitation, Noah lunged forward, bringing his sword down in a sweeping arc. Cyrus sidestepped with the fluidity of water, his own weapon rising in a graceful counter. The scythe clashed with Noah's blade, sending a ripple of black lightning and frost in all directions. Their weapons locked for a tense heartbeat, and Cyrus’s eyes narrowed as he felt the force behind Noah's strike. He pushed Noah back, his face unreadable beneath the mask, but a slight tension in his stance betrayed surprise.
“You’re stronger than I expected,” Cyrus said coolly, his scythe twirling in his hands as he shifted to the offensive. “But don’t mistake borrowed strength for true power.”
With a flick of his wrist, Cyrus conjured a volley of razor-sharp ice projectiles, each shard shimmering with lethal precision. Noah barely had a second to react, diving to the side as the projectiles sliced through the air, peppering the ground with icy shrapnel. He rolled to his feet, raising his sword just in time to deflect a spear of ice that Cyrus launched straight at his chest.
“Not bad,” Noah panted, his voice fierce. He raised his blade, and the dark lightning around it intensified, swirling into jagged tendrils that arced toward Cyrus. He swung, and a bolt of dark energy shot forward, crashing against Cyrus’s scythe. Cyrus staggered, the force of the blast forcing him back a few steps, though he quickly regained his balance, his eyes narrowing with renewed focus.
“You rely too much on your brute force,” Cyrus scolded. He extended his hand, and with a low hum, his scythe transformed, morphing into a long whip of ice that gleamed wickedly in the dim light. He snapped it forward, and the icy lash shot toward Noah, faster than he could dodge. It wrapped around his arm, biting into his skin with a freezing grip.
Noah grunted, feeling the cold seep through his skin and numb his flesh. But he clenched his teeth and summoned every ounce of willpower, channeling the dark energy within him. The black lightning surged along his arm, shattering the ice whip into glittering shards. Before Cyrus could retract his weapon, Noah lunged forward, his blade flashing in a rapid series of strikes that forced Cyrus to backpedal, parrying with practiced ease but showing signs of strain.
Cyrus retaliated with a flourish of his scythe, swinging it in a wide arc that released a freezing gust of wind. Noah felt his muscles lock up, the biting cold threatening to slow him down, but he pressed forward, fighting through the numbing chill. He brought his blade down, aiming a strike at Cyrus’s shoulder, but Cyrus sidestepped again, barely evading the strike.
“You’re determined. I’ll give you that,” Cyrus said, his tone still taunting but laced with grudging respect.
“Determination is all I need!” Noah yelled, his voice thick with defiance. With a roar, he drove his blade into the ground, sending a shockwave of dark lightning coursing toward Cyrus, tearing through the earth and sending debris flying. Cyrus leapt back, narrowly avoiding the blast, his eyes flashing with a flicker of surprise.
Cyrus’s scythe glinted under the faint light as he channeled his energy, the black ice coalescing into a dense, cutting edge. With a final, heavy swing, he brought it down on Noah’s sword, shattering it into fragments that scattered across the ground. But before Cyrus could relax, he saw Noah charging at him again, fists brimming with dark energy. The pieces of his broken sword lay forgotten—Noah’s resolve still burned strong.
“Clench your teeth,” Noah warned, his draconic eyes ablaze with fierce determination.
In one swift motion, Noah unleashed an uppercut, his fist colliding with Cyrus’s jaw. The impact knocked Cyrus back a few steps, and his mask slightly cracked. The blow was unexpected, filled with a force that went beyond physical strength, born instead of sheer will.
Cyrus wiped his mouth, a grin breaking across his face as he steadied himself. “Well played, Noah. You've proven yourself. Let’s call it a draw for now, before we both get too carried away,” he laughed, his voice tinged with respect.
But Noah barely heard him. The effort had pushed him to his limit. “I’m counting this as a win…” he muttered as his vision blurred, and he slumped forward, unconscious. Ava rushed to his side, kneeling by him with a mixture of worry and affection in her eyes.
“That idiot,” Ava sighed, though a soft smile crept onto her lips. “He’s always pushing himself too hard. But I guess his stubbornness is part of his charm,” she said, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “And he’s… pretty cute when he’s asleep.”
Cyrus shook his head, chuckling as he turned to leave. “Alright, lovebird. Take him somewhere to rest up. We can plan out the raid tomorrow, he’ll need his strength.”
Ava lifted Noah gently, his head resting on her shoulder. “I’ll get him back and explain everything to my dad while I’m at it. Thanks, Cyrus,” she said with a grateful nod.
“Get some rest,” Cyrus called after her, watching as she disappeared with Noah as the sun began to set, the quiet returning as the town settled down. Tomorrow would be another day, and their mission had only just begun.