Chapter 38: Cyrus's Last Stand

The ground shook with the intensity of Cyrus's rage. His eyes blazed with supernatural fury, his fists clenched as if to shatter, every ounce of ire coursing through his frame. The arena seemed to narrow in front of him, the mayhem of battle lost from sight as he zeroed his vision in on Axel.

Axel stood rock-steady, the light in his amber eyes flashing with the storm of emotions careening within Cyrus. His breathing was deep, controlled; his position unyielding. He saw the furrows appear, the marks of exhaustion on Cyrus's shaking muscle and his jerky movements. But he could not be remiss—within a heartbeat, if it counted. Cyrus was mercurial, volatile, and at that point more wild than ever.

"You think you've got me figured out," Cyrus snarled, his voice raw with anger. "But I'm not finished!"

With a guttural roar, Cyrus lunged, his speed and strength pushing beyond their natural limits. The ground cracked beneath his feet as he closed the distance between them in the blink of an eye. His first strike was a hammer-like punch aimed directly at Axel's chest.

Axel dodged just in time, the punch sweeping against his side as he dodged and threw a quick jab to Cyrus's jaw. Cyrus staggered but did not stagger. He turned with mad ferocity, kicking out with a kick Axel barely avoided. The air between them crackled with the fury of their punches, each punch containing the fury of their warring wills.

"You're going to burn yourself out!" Axel shouted, dodging another devastating punch. His sharp gaze tracked Cyrus's movements, analyzing the patterns in his attacks. "This ends here, Cyrus!"

"I'll decide when it ends!" Cyrus bellowed, his fists slamming into the ground as Axel leapt back. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the arena, scattering debris and forcing nearby recruits to shield their faces.

Spread out on the battlefield, Sigma's soldiers made their last desperate push. **045** and **062** advanced as a pair, driving towards Ava and Atlas with unyielding ferocity. Ava grasped the flag tightly, turned, and dodged behind a broken rail, adrenaline pushing her.

"They're not surrendering!" Ava yelled out, her voice cutting as she dodged **045**'s grasping arms.

Atlas intercepted **062**, their clash creating a resounding thud that echoed across the battlefield. "We've got this!" he yelled, his fists slamming into his opponent with brute force. "Just focus on keeping that flag safe!"

Back at the defensive line, Lila and Eli fought with everything they had to keep Sigma from regrouping. Lila's sniper rifle cracked with precision, each shot forcing **021** to retreat further into cover.

"I can't hold them off forever!" Lila called out, her tone strained but determined.

Eli hurled another piece of debris, narrowly missing **045**. "You don't have to!" he shouted back. "Just keep them busy—we're almost there!"

But even as Sigma's recruits pressed on, the battle between Axel and Cyrus drew the attention of everyone in the arena. Cyrus's attacks grew wilder, more destructive, each strike leaving deep craters in the ground. Axel dodged and countered with precision, his glowing amber eyes tracking every movement, every opening.

"You're losing control, Cyrus!" Axel said, his voice cutting through the chaos. "This power isn't yours—it's consuming you!"

"SHUT UP!" Cyrus roared, his voice almost unrecognizable. He swung with feral intensity, his strikes blurring into a storm of violence. But each missed blow left him more winded, his movements growing heavier with every second.

Axel seized the opportunity. He darted in close, delivering a sharp elbow to Cyrus's ribs, followed by a powerful uppercut that sent his opponent staggering. "You're done," Axel muttered, his tone steady but firm.

But Cyrus wasn't done yet. He let out a second savage roar, his body shaking with spasmodic power as he pushed himself to continue. Blood spilled from his mouth, his chest heaving in the effort to maintain himself angry. His gray eyes burned with defiance, but under the rage, there was a glint of desperation.

Along the goal line, Ava and Atlas pushed one final time. Ava ran toward the foundation, legs aflame as she batted away a further of **045**'s strikes. "Not today!" she cursed, kicking his chest and pushing him back several paces.

Atlas, fighting desperately in close quarters with **062**, used his sheer strength to drive him down, pushing his foe onto the ground. "Go, Ava!" he yelled, raw, rasping voice strong despite it.

With a final burst of speed, Ava sprinted across the goal line, the blue victory flag aloft in her hand. The recruits at the sides gave a cheer, their voices ringing out in the arena with the victorious tone.

"We did it!" Ava cried out breathlessly, her smile spreading over her face despite the exhaustion carved into her features.

But victory was marred by the increasingly strained tension at the center of the battlefield. Cyrus, his body stretched taut to breaking point, released one last blood-curdling scream. The ground beneath him creaked and shattered, his fists shaking as he readied to unleash one final, crushing blow.

Axel steadied himself, his muscles rigid as a wound spring, prepared to strike back. But Cyrus had no time to react before a sharp, authoritative voice sounded across the arena.

"That's enough."

The words sliced through the confusion like a blade. Everyone gazed upwards at the raised dais, where Commander Rourke stood, his arms crossed over his chest, his ruthless eyes fixed on Cyrus. To his side sat Victoria, her features unchanging, her angular face hiding nothing.

Cyrus froze, his body trembling as he struggled to keep standing. His gray eyes flickered, the unnatural glow dimming as the strain of his ability finally caught up to him. Blood dripped from his knuckles, his breaths ragged and shallow.

"You've pushed yourself far enough, recruit," Rourke said, his tone calm but firm. "Stand down."

Cyrus snarled deep within his throat, hands clenched tightly. For a moment, he looked as though he would revolve, the mutiny simmering hard despite his body growing weaker. And then, suddenly, with a gulping spasm, he collapsed onto his knees, the struggle leaching out of him.

Axel stood a few paces back, his amber eyes fading as he let go of the tension in his body. His keen gaze was still locked onto Cyrus, wary but unblinking.

The field was quiet, the weight of the moment suffocating the recruits under a heavy blanket. Even the thrill of victory on the goal line was muted, smothered by the sheer power of what had occurred.