Cyrus rolled his eyes and sighed.
I grew up in a normal home in a world much different from yours. We didn't have monsters or magic or any of that kind of stuff. When the tower first appeared along with the gems and stuff, we thought it'd be something cool. It ended up pulling all of our split continents towards it and drove my world to shit. Natural disasters, anarchy, and chaos broke out. My parents died pretty early on into it all–
"I'm so sorry for your loss." Eloise quickly said.
"Don't worry about it." Cyrus hated this pity, but kept going anyway.
After they died I was forced to survive on my own for three years. Scavenging for food and water, fighting for shelter, killing for survival. It sucked. Ass. But I managed to make it, then I got pulled into here and I've been here for the past… three months.
"Most of the time has been spent sleeping." Durthu snorted.
"Eh whatever, three months is still three months." Cyrus rolled his eyes.
He'd intentionally left some parts of his story out. He said enough to appease his two companions. The remainder of the night was spent telling stories of memories, eating mystery meat from things Durthu had hunted, and joking. Eventually though, when they were all tired, they began to settle in for the night.
Durthu slept closer to the snow, due to being so large he sweated a lot and the heat bothered him while he slept. Eloise, due to being an angel, had to stay warm so she slept closer to the fire. Cyrus was just resting just between the snow and fire, where it wasn't too hot or cold. He was using his cloak as a blanket, Eloise seemed to have an actual blanket, and Durthu didn't seem bothered by the cold so he didn't need one.
The orcs snoring made it hard for Cyrus to sleep, so he ended up just staring at the sky above. Despite being inside the structure, The Tower, he wondered how there was a sky. He wanted to know if maybe it was a false night, some sort of illusion… but when he saw the flickering of a star dying off in the vacuum of space, he felt like it was a real sky. The nights he'd spent just like this all came flooding back.
Lying alone, looking up at the night sky, unable to sleep out of fear for his own life. The glimmering of the stars kept him sane, or as sane as he could stay, for those hellish three years. But there were some major differences this time. He was no longer alone now and despite him not fully trusting his companions just yet, he was content with only having to worry about his large friend snoring and the silent crackling of the nearby flames. Then his moment was interrupted by something falling on his chest and violently shaking from side to side. He groaned and sat up, grabbing the egg.
"What? What could you possibly want from me now?" Cyrus asked the malleable round ball.
It only shook in response.
"The fire? We need that for warmth. I'm not putting you into the fire." He said, "I can put you into my cloak, that might be dark enough."
The egg stayed still for a minute and then shook again.
"I'm gonna assume that's a yes." He rested the egg in his cloak, close to his body where it was darkest and warmest.
The egg shook for a little and then got still, siphoning warmth from Cyrus and the darkness that surrounded it. This just made Cyrus shiver a little more, he was already cold enough but the egg siphoning the little bit of warmth he had was making it leagues worse, thankfully his cloak alternated to try and keep him warm… though the egg started siphoning that warmth too.
"Stupid fuckin' egg, I swear if you aren't something good I'm gonna eat you." He grumbled.
The egg only shook once again and went still.
"... Ass." Cyrus hissed and went to get some sleep.
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The next morning, Eloise was the first to awaken. She sat up and looked around, rubbing her eyes and shaking loose feathers from her wings. The girl fueled the fire and sat there for a second before her eye violently twitched. It wasn't just Durthu who snored. Cyrus did too. So instead of having a normal conversation or just waking them normally, she grabbed a piece of firewood that was still smoldering with flames and chucked it at Durthu first.
The Orc woke up with a shout, diving into the snow to cool off his back. She did the same to Cyrus and it hit his face. Thankfully, his Regeneration turned on and healed it before it could leave a burn. He woke up still from the sharp burn on his face and threw a handful of dirt at her instantly.
"F~uck you!" Cyrus shouted.
"Stop snoring! Gosh, that sound is so annoying!" Eloise shouted at them.
"You could've woke us up normally!" Durthu cried from the snow.
"We need to start moving! C'mon!" She huffed and stood up.
Cyrus mocked her to her face and stood up, at some point during the night the egg had returned to his inventory and its hatch rate had gone up… but did he care to check it? No. Not at all. Instead, he brushed himself off from dirt and helped put out the flames so they could be on their way. Unlike the first floor, Cyrus wasn't gonna skip over anything of use. Not dungeons, not castles, not towns.
Despite this floor being a harsh winter, he was going to stay for as long as he needed. Though, he hadn't yet discussed this with the other two. He watched as Durthu picked his teeth and looked around, in turn Cyrus did the same. He hummed as he noticed footprints in the snow.
"Have the monsters come back out now that Serenith is gone?" Cyrus asked himself, crouching down to touch one of the tracks.
"One of those feral looking climbers said something about them being gone because of her, so maybe?" Eloise shrugged, "Why?"
"I want to hunt one." Cyrus said, "Get some experience before we try and move on to another floor."
"Wouldn't want a repeat of the last one!" Durthu joked.
"Not funny, Durthu." Eloise crossed her arms.
Cyrus snorted, "I think it was pretty funny."
"I don't think I asked you." Eloise slapped him with her wing.
Cyrus sputtered feathers and glared daggers at her back. He grumbled something and sped up his walking pace to pass by her. He looked around and saw plumes of smoke, about five miles to their left so… to the east, I think it was. He pointed, not even needing to utter a word for the other two to understand what message he was trying to get across, and they changed course.
Now you may have some questions, of course. How do these three, who just met oh so recently, have such amazing compatibility and synchronicity? Well, while this may sound cliche and like a cop-out, it can all be chalked up to fate I guess. Fate will be a very important aspect of this little tale I'm telling, as it seems Cyrus is… disconnected… from fate, but despite that he is heavily intertwined with others. That is how their little trio is so compatible, Durthu and Eloise were literally fated to meet him, but he has no fate himself.
The town they came across looked oddly cozy, which made Cyrus very uncomfortable. Even the last city they were in didn't look this cozy and that was the starting floors town. Eloise seemed to feel the exact same, looking over at Cyrus to see if he felt the same. The two shared a long stare which was interrupted by Durthu… who did not have the same instinct as them.
The Orc grinned happily, kicking up a massive cloud of snow and dirt as he sprinted towards the cozy and warm looking town.
"Hurry up little friends! We can take a bath and be warm!" Durthu exclaimed.
"Wait! D!" Eloise shouted and flew after him.
"Fucking… idiot!" Cyrus shouted to himself and ran to catch up with the other two.
As the three got closer, an arrow flew and landed in Cyrus's chest. He stopped running and looked down at his own chest to see half of the arrow buried into his sternum. The arrow itself was damn near his height and when he looked back he could see the other half of the arrow was sticking out of his back. He slowly nodded and only a single word left his lips before he collapsed into the snow.
"Huh."
"Cyrus!" Eloise shouted and flew to him.
"Hey! We are friends! Friendly!" Durthu shouted, drawing his axes and using his body to cover the other two.
"Damn it! What is up with you!" Eloise was panicking, her breathing quickening.
"Hold your fire! The Orc said something!" A Dragonid shouted from the wall.
"We're friends! Why would you…" Durthu shouted but stopped.
"... I know you." The Dragonid murmured.
It was that same stupid Dragonid from before. The one who so vehemently believed they were working with Serenith. Durthu had known more than enough folks like this. The Elves are similar, he knew what would happen next. He used his body as a shield once more as arrows rained from the wall.
Eloise was panicking as she ripped the arrow from Cyrus's chest. His Regeneration kicked in, beginning to close the wound starting with the bones and his spine first. Eloise used her healing to speed this process. Cyrus instantly awoke in pain as his bones were violently shooting out of his organs and muscles and back into place.
"What's happening?! Stop them! Don't let her revive him!" The Dragonid shouted as more Climbers ran out of the gate towards them.
"Stay away or else!" Durthu was becoming angry now, shouting at the top of his lungs.
This caused the soldiers to falter but a Dwarven man stepped forward, "Charge him! It's just him!"
"Finish Cyrus. I'll keep them busy." Durthu breathed as his skin turned a red tone.
He began to use his own Divi– I'm sorry, that's confusing for you humans, I'll call it Magik from this point on… I guess. Well, Durthu began to utilize his own Magik. Remember how I mentioned that he had a specialized form of Magik? Well you'll get to see it in real time now.
As the army of 100 or so Climbers swarmed the Orc, his skin turned dark red and his eyes as well, not only that but the Orc seemed to get wider and taller, as if whatever he was doing was changing his entire biology to fit him for one sole purpose: Battle.
He roared as his Magik finally activated, revealing itself to everyone with a title appearing above his head.
Durthu, The Ancient Ones Berserker.
The Orc surged forth, swinging his axe in a frenzy. The one hundred Climbers swarmed him altogether and they were cut down as if they were nothing but butter. He was a torrent of violence and bloodshed in that moment, with nothing else on his mind but the duty to protect his comrade and kill these attackers.
As he flew through the crowd in a flurry, he noticed Eloise mildly gagging at the mere sight of the blood, so he made sure not to let any of it even touch the Angel. He roared once more, dropping his axes to use his bare hands. The next act of violence was enough to cause the remaining twenty or so to stop and rather flee.
Durthu picked up a Giant, holding the male Giant in his hands. He proceeded to use his bare hands to rip open the Giants chest, but he did not stop there. He let out animalistic huffs and pants as he growled and tore the Giant in half. He roared once more and rushed after the survivors.
While the Orc wreaked havoc, Eloise was healing Cyrus. The boy was shouting and screaming as his internal structure reorganized and forced itself back into place. He was foaming at the mouth as his muscles tensed, his eyes rolled back as bone shards forced themselves back to normal, and his jaw clenched as muscle and flesh stretched and matured to match everything else.
As the Angel drained herself, she finally finished healing him. The Orc turned back to see and as the rest of the attackers fled he deactivated the Magik he was using. He rushed back over immediately and slid to a stop in the snow to catch the now exhausted Eloise and to check on Cyrus.
"Cyrus?! Are you okay?!" Durthu shouted, getting thick globs of spit over the boy's face.
"I feel… like shit." Cyrus barely muttered the words as his Regeneration slowly got rid of the pains in his body.
"Stop nearly dying… jerk." Eloise huffed, leaning into the warm Orc.
"Keep an eye on Eloise." Cyrus said as he slowly pulled himself up.
"What are you doing?" Durthu watched him.
Cyrus didn't answer, approaching the gate. He was pissed. They shot him with a three foot arrow, attacked his friends, and tried to kill them for no reason. He pulled his sword from his Inventory and took in a deep breath as he pulled the hood of his cloak above his head.
If I could describe his face in the simplest way possible, it was as if I was looking into the eyes of an experienced killer. The black sword in his hands gleamed as he got to the large gate they were using to keep him out. The boy stared at it and looked back at his two comrades who were panting. The sight brought back a painful memory, but it didn't pain him as much as it angered him.
Cyrus stepped back and took a rough guess of the height of the wall, maybe twenty or thirty feet tall? He took numerous steps back and ran forward, confusing the Dragonid who watched him, but while using his built up speed he jumped and ran up the wall, stabbing his sword into the wall and standing on it. He jumped and pulled his sword out of his inventory again, doing this process once more before reaching the top.
His hand gripped the edge of the wall. An Elf tried to stab a knife into the brown hand only for a black sword to stab through his throat. The teenage boy heaved himself over the wall and began to wreak havoc amongst the soldiers atop it. His swordsmanship skills were… unrefined to say the least. He was self taught, reading martial arts books while traveling the hellscape that was Earth. But it would do for now. He used this rough and unrefined style to his advantage, as the other sword users found it hard to predict and counter his movements. He managed to swipe arrows out of the air and even caught on, using it to stab another.
For Eloise and Durthu, who were not on the wall, they only witnessed blood and limbs flying from the wall and landing amongst the already large pile of gore that Durthu had created before. Eloise squinted her eyes and, for just a moment, as if witnessing a scene from her worst nightmares, the boy in the black cloak on that wall… looked almost like an entity even the other "Gods" feared. He didn't notice this though, but something on that wall did. A Daemon.
"You… You look like him! The Chained One!" The Daemon shouted before its head was severed from its shoulders.
"Shut up. I'm cold." He huffed, moving towards the Dragonid.
"Stay back!" The Dragonid created a large yellow bubble in her throat.
Cyrus had seen this before, during the Sphinx fight. He quickly decided to utilize the skill of the cloak. As the bright yellow flames shot towards him, Cyrus's skin and clothes became a dense gray color and he became heavy, his movements stopping entirely. He had become a living statue to defend himself against the heat, but he'd also taken a gamble on this strategy. He didn't know when the fire would stop spewing, so he guessed and gave it five seconds.
And when those five seconds were up there was no sight of the statue, merely burned wood. The Dragonid grinned, her face full of triumph, and then her nose picked up his scent. Cyrus had ducked down and came in from her blindspot, his sword hidden beneath his cloak. Her slitted eyes grew wide and afraid as she watched that same black blade swing to lop off her head.
Out of this entire little exchange of bloodshed, only one survived. It was a small Imp, a kind of Daemon. He had hidden under some bodies, his mouth covered as he cowered in fear. The sight in front of him was, for lack of a better word, terrifying.
Standing amidst numerous bodies and surrounded by flames was a solitary human, an adolescent one no less. His cloak black as his hair, his blade as dark as the night sky and glimmered with the gold and red of captured stars, his eyes a piercing mix of gold and red… he felt as if he was looking at a deity. The Imp shrank under the corpses as this human boy looked around and finished off any remaining survivors, such as those he didn't hit fatally. After he'd finished, he dropped off the wall and opened the gate to his companions who were out in the snow.
The entire event that had just unfolded happened in about five minutes, when the gates opened and Durthu saw his comrade walk out in that hooded black cloak covered in blood… a memory flashed in his mind. When he was young he'd discovered a hermit Orc, an old old man, who could pass on visions and what this Hermit showed him was a vision of a male. A male figure in a black cloak, radiating suffocating pressure from every step. The Orc was snapped from his trance when Cyrus removed his hood and softly touched his shoulder.
"Hey, D, you good?" Cyrus asked.
"Oh… uh… yes, I'm fine." Durthu nodded quickly.
Cyrus motioned his head over, "C'mon, we can go inside and find a place to stay until we're ready to leave."
"Carry me, please." Eloise whined, "I cannot feel my limbs… at all."
"C'mere, you dramatic Angel." Cyrus rolled his eyes and picked her up.
The three walked into the town. Until Cyrus could discover a different, less hostile town, they were stuck here. He found a little inn that seemed inconspicuous and damn near kicked the door off its hinges as he got inside. The barkeep was a Dragonid male who stared at the three blankly, setting down the bottle he had in his hands and spreading his scaled hands across the bar.
Unlike other Dragonids Cyrus had seen up until now, this one actually had wings that were tucked close to his back. The barkeep just stared at them expectantly as the rest of the bar turned to look at them. They all looked rather filthy.
"Can we get a room?" Cyrus asked, "My friend here needs it."
"You got anything of value? Money?" The barkeep asked.
"Is this valuable?" Durthu pulled a massive pile of beast hides from his inventory.
"Hm… it'll do." The barkeep waved them off.
Cyrus quickly hurried off to a room and opened the door. He sat Eloise down in the only bed in the room where she instantly fell asleep from exhaustion. After the woman who kept them stable fell asleep, Durthu and Cyrus sat in total silence for a while before Durthu decided to try and make a joke… a joke which Cyrus would, obviously, laugh at.
"Hey next time maybe the arrow hit your head." He chuckled.
There was a long pause, "Pfft…"
The two boys, despite what they'd just gone through, could still laugh… but there was something off with Durthu, Cyrus could just tell. He sat down on a chair and looked at his large Orc friend, motioning to the other seat as if to tell him to sit. Durthu listened, awkwardly sitting on the chair.
"What's wrong, big guy?" Cyrus asked.
"I've never… killed another Orc… or person." Durthu frowned, looking at his hands.
"Oh…" Cyrus was prepared for literally anything else but that.
"How did you do it so easily? I wanna be able to protect you and Eloise like that without feeling like this." Durthu looked at his smaller friend expectantly.
Cyrus stared at the Orc, at whatever innocence remained, and needed to protect it. At all costs. So he said, "Look man, there's no way to make it easy. I'm glad you feel this way, because that's a good thing. I can only do this because I… Well, I had to do it for survival. Just leave it, I'll make sure you never have to kill another person again. I promise you."
Durthu looked at his own hands again, at the blood staining them, "... Okay, Cyrus."
"Go take a bath big guy. Clean yourself off." He stood and pat Durthu on the shoulder.
"Alright." The Orc nodded and stood up, walking to the connected bathroom.
Cyrus fully planned to stay true to his statement. Unlike him, these other two were not forced to fight for their survival in the same way he was. Durthu wasn't forced to kill other Orcs, but rather beasts and animals. Eloise had never had to make the decision between taking a person's life or not. They were simply not accustomed to the same level of stress, not accustomed to the same lifestyle, as Cyrus was. And if you ask him? He never wanted them to be.
Cyrus believes all humans are disgusting and rotten beings without a sliver of a good bone in their body, and any who were good died early on. He believes humans only do what benefits them, regardless of others. Maybe occasionally protecting someone, but usually for something selfish. He truly believed all humans were bottom of the barrel scum… and he was not an exception. The boy had made horrible decisions during his time surviving on Earth.
He'd killed mothers and fathers, taken food from those who needed it, taken hostages and taken advantage of others. He was not a good person. Far far from it, in fact. He was a horrible, conniving, disgusting, human being… and Cyrus knew that. Deep deep down, he knew there was no redemption for himself and he was okay with that. Humans deserve the worst, he deserved the worst. But not these two. Not Durthu, not Eloise.
They did not deserve to follow him down the path he had been walking, and if it meant coating his own hands in more blood… then so be it. Whether it be for his own skewed sense of morality, or maybe so he could feel better about the terrible things he'd done and will do, he would make sure that his two companions never had to go down his path… even if it cost him his life. That, he swore.
While he was spaced out, Durthu came out of the bathroom with his long hair soaking wet and detangled. The Orc shook his head like a dog which snapped Cyrus out of his trance when water hit him in the face. He laughed and tried to cover his face from the water, Durthu also laughed as he flung the water at his friend. These three had an unbreakable bond that transcended even fate itself. And no, that isn't an exaggeration either. As I watched this journey I became rather interested in the fates of this little trio. As I searched through them I came to a conclusion.
Cyrus has no fate. He is a mere blank canvas, he has no future, merely a past and a present. Anything could happen to him in his own fate, but when it came to the other two is when it got interesting.
I checked every timeline, every parallel universe, and in each and every single one, Durthu would find and befriend Cyrus. The circumstance did not matter, whether it was a universe in the midst of a raging war or if their roles were flipped, even in one where Cyrus was an old man, they always discovered one another no matter what. I tried to intervene several times across different universes and regardless of my actions, these two would always meet each other first and spend the exact same amount of time together before departing. That wasn't all though. Rather, even Cyrus's influence on Durthu stayed the same. Durthu would always develop the same playful, childlike, and friendly personality, even if his personality was the total opposite prior to meeting Cyrus. It's as if the boy is an instrument of fate that not even I can detect, much less influence. Even manipulating Durthus' past doesn't work as he somehow always finds his way to Cyrus.
But it isn't just Durthu. Even Eloise, my angel, is fated to meet him. It doesn't matter what I do, she somehow always discovered him. In one universe I decided to erase her existence entirely, yet her fate still led her to him and it somehow came true. I am God, yes, but there is but one thing I cannot control and that is Fate. I meddled with it by erasing Eloise from a timeline and she just… returned. It does not matter what I do, or how I do it, he is an integral part in her fate. His influence on her remained the same as well, he allowed her to relax and feel the true joys of friendship and comradery. She stays playful and sassy, her attitude and outlook towards life and people stays just as bright as always and just like Durthu, even if it was the total opposite it almost always changes after meeting the boy. He is an integral part in the fates of anyone of major influence on the world, no matter the universe. These two, this girl and this boy. This angel and this human. This beacon of light and this abyss. They are fated to meet across every universe, no matter whether I want them too or not.
And now more on Cyrus himself. The boy was a mystery, as I've already stated. His fate is not one I can see, in fact it's as if he doesn't exist. As if there is no laid out future for him, but rather one he is carving in the moment. I've tried every possible method, from tweaking his very conception to adjusting his parents, but no matter what I do his future stays a dark mystery to me. It's quite intriguing and exciting, because of the simple prospect of there being something I cannot see. It's why I am so interested in this boy, his influence, his importance, no matter what he is a set point in every being's life. Not only that, but there is more to add to the mystery that is Cyrus Richards and that is the numerous titles that seem to follow him. He has many and I made sure to check the fates of everything that can, will, and does, exist. His titles are as follows, each one different depending on the person.
The Cloaked One.
The Man Veiled In Black.
God's Chosen Champion.
The Man With No Face.
The Omen.
Death's Harbinger.
The Chimera.
The Favored One.
The Chained Ones Champion.
And the one title that seems to follow him across every universe, no matter the context or situation of said universe, and this may sound familiar to you.
The Black Bird.
It's a title special to only two things, alive and dead. Serenith, crowned The Black Bird by her kin and those who've witnessed her, and the one she passed this title onto. Cyrus. He unknowingly inherits this title from the Aetheris, but even before that, those three words were his title that he was most well known by. His name fading from history, no matter the universe, until that was the only name to remain.
It's quite intriguing. For a being that doesn't seem to have a fate set in stone, the fact that this follows him no matter the universe caught my eye. It's what made me watch him so closely and the reason I'm recounting this to your universe especially. Because, it seems as though this universe is the one where he is… as to not spoil anything, the most accomplished.
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Eventually the boy's stupid playing would wake up Eloise, who sat up angrily and glared daggers at them. They quit their playing and quickly sat down and covered their mouths as she removed her armor and went to bathe. Before stepping into the bathroom she turned around and gave the two boys a very simple command.
"Do not do anything stupid."
"Yes ma'am."
"Of course ma'am."
And she left them there. Durthu and Cyrus were silent for a while, before Cyrus pinched the Orc's muscular arm. Durthu winched and did it back, which triggered the two to go back and forth. This stupid game of pinching escalated into tackling, which led to moving around the room. Durthu had picked up Cyrus and thrown him, not particularly paying attention to where he was throwing him.
The shattering of glass was audible and Cyrus just stared at his large friend, who stared back at him.
"We are so fucked." Cyrus whisper-yelled.
"So, so fucked." Durthu nodded.
"What are we gonna do?!"
"I dunno! You're older! Figure it out!"
"Fuck man!"