Cyrus, recognizing the need to defuse the situation, remained steadfast in his refusal to be drawn into the provocations. The sangria spear, though a formidable deterrent, hung poised in his grip—an unspoken declaration of his readiness to defend himself if need be.
The alley, its walls casting elongated shadows, became the arena for a silent standoff. The thugs, emboldened by their numbers, tested the waters of Cyrus's resilience. The air, thick with anticipation, held the unspoken question of whether the encounter would dissolve into verbal sparring or escalate into physical confrontation.
Cyrus, standing tall amidst the encroaching shadows, weighed his options. The sangria spear, its crimson glow reflecting the ambient light, symbolized both a defensive stance and a silent warning. The merman's house, though tantalizingly close, remained a distant haven as the alley's confines became the stage for an unfolding drama.
