With a final surge of will, Cyrus managed to take a step through the doorway. The dimly lit expanse of the thug's organizational base loomed before him, a vast and foreboding space that symbolized both danger and potential revelation.
Cyrus lay sprawled at the threshold of the thug's organization base, a tableau of utter exhaustion. His once vibrant eyes, now dulled and bloodshot, struggled to stay open, betraying the immense fatigue that weighed on him. The lines etched on his face told a story of countless battles fought within the narrow corridors, each one extracting a toll on his physical and mental reserves.
