The chamber darkened, the glyphs on the obsidian walls dimming as if the air itself was growing heavier, suffocating under the weight of ancient knowledge. Lucius Cipher stood still, a shadow framed by the flickering lights, and Alastor could feel the pull of time itself shifting around the man, as though his presence warped the very fabric of existence.

Lucius studied Alastor for a long moment, as if savoring the silence, relishing the inevitable unraveling of the truth. Then, slowly, he spread his arms wide, like a priest preparing to deliver a sermon. He wanted Alastor to understand—not just the mechanics of the Pyramid, but the depth of its design, the brilliance of its purpose.

"You still don’t understand what you’re part of, do you?" Lucius said softly. His voice carried the weight of centuries, each word meticulously chosen, calculated. "The Pyramid is not just an organization, Alastor. It is a living machine. A machine built to master death itself."

He turned away slightly, running his hand along the glyphs that shimmered faintly across the smooth stone walls. The symbols shifted under his touch, glowing briefly, then rearranging into new patterns—patterns that didn’t just tell a story, but commanded reality.

"This place—this entire system—was born long before Skylance City, before empires and revolutions. The origins of the Pyramid stretch back to the cradle of civilization… back to ancient Egypt, where a circle of priests sought a way to transcend death." Lucius paused, glancing at Alastor with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "Do you know what they found?"

Alastor’s heart pounded in his chest. He could feel the scarab beneath his skin hum with recognition, as if it were part of the same truth Lucius was now revealing.

"They discovered the power of time," Lucius continued, his voice low and reverent. "Not as a river that flows endlessly forward, but as a wheel—a loop. Life and death, cause and effect, are nothing more than threads in a tapestry that can be unraveled, rewoven, or stretched across eternity. The priests learned how to manipulate the fabric of existence through a ritual—one that tied their souls to the loop, granting them control over time, death, and rebirth."

He let the gravity of his words linger in the air, the hum of the glyphs growing louder, like the beating of unseen wings.

"The ritual of the Pyramid was a pact," Lucius explained, "binding the high priests to the cycle forever. Each death was a doorway to new knowledge. Each life reborn brought them closer to mastery. And through this endless loop, they ensured the survival of their power. The priests became more than mortal men—they became architects of fate, gods in their own right."

Alastor’s skin prickled. He felt the weight of the scarab thrumming harder now, as if the relic recognized the truth woven into Lucius’s words.

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"This is what the Pyramid offers," Lucius whispered, stepping closer, his eyes gleaming with dark fire. "Not immortality, but eternity—the chance to die and rise again, endlessly, until there is nothing left but mastery. Do you see it now, Alastor? Every life you’ve lived, every death you’ve endured, has been a step toward perfection. Toward becoming more than human."

Alastor’s mind raced, trying to grasp the enormity of what Lucius was saying. The loop wasn’t a curse—it was a system, carefully designed and maintained across millennia to ensure the survival of the Pyramid’s power. Every assassin, every trial, every betrayal had been part of the grand design.

"But… why?" Alastor asked, his voice hoarse. "Why build something like this? Why trap everyone in this endless cycle?"

Lucius smiled—a smile that held both triumph and pity. "Because power is meaningless without control. Death is the only thing that humbles even the mightiest of men. And yet, by mastering death—by binding ourselves to the loop—we become untouchable. We control not just the present, but the past and the future. The Pyramid is not just an organization—it is the spine of history, the pulse beneath every age. The only thing that matters is control, Alastor. Control over life, over time… over everything."

Alastor shook his head, anger bubbling to the surface. "You’re telling me you’ve trapped people in this system for thousands of years just to keep yourselves in power?"

Lucius’s smile didn’t falter. "We did what was necessary to survive. We perfected a system that no one could escape. And now, we are beyond time itself." His gaze darkened, and the flames in his eyes burned brighter, flickering like ancient embers. "We are eternal."

Alastor felt a shiver crawl down his spine. This was the true nature of the Pyramid—not just an order of assassins, but a machine that stretched across centuries, fueled by the souls of the men and women trapped within its loop. The trials, the deaths, the rebirths—they weren’t just tests. They were the fuel that kept the system alive.

Lucius gestured toward the scarab hidden beneath Alastor’s sleeve. "You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The power of the loop, thrumming inside you like a second heartbeat. That’s not just a tool, Alastor—it’s your birthright. Every death you’ve lived through has brought you closer to becoming what we are."

Alastor clenched his fists, his mind racing. "What happens if I refuse? If I don’t play along with your plan?"

Lucius gave a small, patient smile. "There is no refusal. Not anymore. You’ve already been shaped by the loop. Every life you’ve lived, every choice you’ve made, has led you here. There is no escape—only the choice to ascend… or fall."

Alastor felt the walls closing in around him, the weight of countless lifetimes pressing down on his soul. Every step he had taken, every decision he thought was his own, had been part of this ancient conspiracy, a web woven by men who had long since stopped being human. He had fought so hard to break free, only to find that he was exactly where the Pyramid wanted him to be.

"Why me?" he asked, his voice tight with frustration.

Lucius’s eyes gleamed. "Because you are ready to become one of us. To ascend, Alastor. All that remains is for you to make the final choice."

Alastor stared at him, fury and fear warring in his heart. Lucius stood perfectly still, his dark smile unwavering, the fire in his eyes reflecting countless lifetimes—lifetimes lived, stolen, and mastered.

"We are eternal," Lucius whispered, the weight of the words hanging in the air like a curse. "And soon, you will be too."