He danced through the clearing, his sword a blur of light as it cut down swan after swan. Their blood stained the grass, the once peaceful clearing now a battlefield. But even as they fell, the swans showed no sign of retreat, driven by some primal instinct to fight until the last.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last swan crumpled to the ground, its body joining the others in the carnage that now filled the clearing. Cyrus stood among them, breathing heavily, the aether sword still shimmering in his hand.
He looked around at the fallen creatures, a sense of satisfaction mingling with the realization of their true strength. They were not formidable alone, but together, they were a force to be reckoned with. It had been a longer, more intense fight, but Cyrus had emerged victorious, his skills and experience shining through.
