The hum of encrypted signals filled the underground space as Cyrus Vale, the enigmatic leader of the digital rebellion, stood at the center of a secure hub deep within the city’s forgotten infrastructure. Screens flickered around him, displaying encrypted feeds from across the globe—surveillance drones, hijacked media streams, backdoor access into corporate networks. Cyrus lived in the digital underworld, where his word was law and his voice echoed as the rallying cry of the oppressed masses.

Alastor stood opposite him, tension thick in the stale air between them. Two men with wildly different methods but the same target—the Pyramid. They had crossed paths before, but always as enemies, or at best, unwilling participants in the same struggle. Now, Alastor needed an alliance. Without Cyrus and his network, the rebellion would die before it even began.

Cyrus leaned back, his piercing dark eyes locked on Alastor with unflinching suspicion. His presence was electric, every movement sharp and deliberate. He was a legend among the disenfranchised, a hacker-turned-revolutionary who had brought governments and megacorporations to their knees. But his fight had always been against oppression in the digital world—against systems, not shadows.

"So," Cyrus said, folding his arms across his chest. "You show up at my door, and I’m supposed to believe you want to help us take down the Pyramid? The same Pyramid you’ve spent most of your life playing nice with?" His eyes narrowed, a flicker of distrust sharpening his expression. "You’ve been one of them for years, Creed. Why the change of heart now?"

Alastor’s jaw tightened. He didn’t have time for old grudges, but he knew that convincing Cyrus wouldn’t be easy. Cyrus Vale had been burned too many times to trust anyone—especially someone like Alastor, whose wealth and status had once tied him to the same elites they were now fighting.

"The Pyramid didn’t just betray you," Alastor said, his voice calm but deliberate. "They betrayed me too. They’ve been using all of us—pawns in their game, running loops and trials to keep us in chains."

Cyrus arched a skeptical brow, his expression unreadable. "And what, now you’ve seen the light? Spare me the redemption speech."

Alastor exhaled slowly, suppressing the irritation building in his chest. "I’m not here to make speeches. I’m here because we both want the same thing—to destroy the Pyramid. And we both know we can’t do that alone."

Cyrus studied him for a long moment, silent. The air between them crackled with tension, as though every unspoken thought was a potential threat. Aurora stood quietly behind Alastor, her neural interface pulsing as she kept a close watch on the data feeds flickering across the screens. She knew Cyrus’s people would be monitoring them too, scanning for any sign of betrayal.

"You think we’re on the same side, Creed," Cyrus said slowly, "but we’re not. Your war is personal. Mine is about survival. You’re fighting to tear down the loop, but the people I fight for? They just want to live long enough to see tomorrow."

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Alastor’s gaze didn’t waver. "If we don’t break the loop, there won’t be a tomorrow."

Cyrus scoffed, though there was no humor in it. "That’s where you’re wrong. There’s always a tomorrow. It’s just a question of who controls it." He leaned forward, his dark eyes narrowing. "What makes you think you’re any better than the elites you want to burn down? You spent most of your life benefiting from the system. What happens when you take their place? What’s your plan when the dust settles, Creed?"

Alastor clenched his fists, the scarab thrumming against his skin like a pulse of warning. This was the core of Cyrus’s distrust—he wasn’t just fighting the Pyramid. He was fighting the very idea that anyone, even Alastor, could wield power without being corrupted by it.

"I don’t want to replace them," Alastor said quietly. "I want to destroy the system—completely. No more loops, no more trials, no more gods deciding who lives and who dies." His gaze hardened. "We build something new. Something better. But we don’t get that chance unless we win."

Cyrus’s eyes flickered, and for a brief moment, Alastor saw something behind the skepticism—a flicker of recognition. Cyrus hated the system too, more than anyone. And while his war had been fought in the digital trenches, he knew that unless the Pyramid fell, every revolution would be nothing more than another reset in the endless loop.

"You’re asking me to put my people on the line for your war," Cyrus said, his voice low. "You expect me to trust you, just like that?"

"I’m not asking you to trust me," Alastor replied. "I’m asking you to help me burn the Pyramid to the ground. If we don’t take them down together, they’ll bury us both."

Silence fell between them, thick and heavy. This was the turning point. Alastor could see it in Cyrus’s expression—the subtle war between distrust and the need for action. Cyrus had spent his life tearing down systems of control, and now the Pyramid was the ultimate enemy. He knew he couldn’t win alone.

Cyrus exhaled slowly, leaning back against the wall of flickering screens. His sharp gaze didn’t soften, but the tension in his shoulders eased—just slightly. "You’re not wrong, Creed. But don’t think for a second that I’m doing this for you."

"I wouldn’t expect anything else," Alastor said with a faint, grim smile.

Cyrus gave him a hard look. "I don’t trust you. Not yet." He pushed off the wall, his arms still folded. "But I’ll fight with you—for now."

Alastor nodded, the weight of the moment settling over him. It wasn’t friendship, but it was enough. With Cyrus Vale and his digital rebellion on their side, they had the numbers—and the tools—they needed to take the fight directly to the heart of the Pyramid.

Selene gave Alastor a sidelong glance, her expression unreadable. "Let’s hope this war doesn’t end with everyone turning on each other."

Cyrus smirked, though there was no warmth in it. "If it does, I’ll make sure I’m standing on top when the dust settles."

Aurora tilted her head, her neural interface humming as new data feeds from Cyrus’s network synced with hers. "Let’s just focus on bringing the system down first," she said. "Then we can worry about who’s left standing."

Alastor met Cyrus’s gaze one last time. This alliance was fragile, held together by necessity and shared rage—but it would have to be enough. The war had only just begun, and they needed every ally they could get.

"Welcome to the fight," Alastor said quietly.

Cyrus’s smile was razor-sharp. "Don’t make me regret this, Creed."