The dimly lit basement echoed with the rhythmic clanging of metal on metal. Cyrus pushed open the heavy wooden doors, his footsteps muffled by the cacophony of industry below. As he descended the creaking stairs, the acrid smell of smoke and heated metal assaulted his nostrils.
At the bottom, he found Lork hunched over a workbench, completely engrossed in his task. The cyclops wore comically oversized goggles that magnified his eyes to cartoonish proportions. His face was streaked with soot, giving him the appearance of a chimney sweep rather than a skilled craftsman.
"What's that?" Cyrus asked, his curiosity piqued as he approached the bench. He ran his fingers along the cool metal surface of what appeared to be a humanoid figure, noting the intricate magical components interwoven with the more mundane materials.
Lork jumped at the sound of Cyrus's voice, nearly dropping the delicate tool in his hand. He whirled around, his eye comically magnified behind the thick lenses. "By the gods, Cyrus! Warn a fellow next time, would you?" He clutched dramatically at his chest, but a grin soon spread across his face.
"My masterpiece armor!" Lork proclaimed proudly, gesturing to the half-finished creation with a flourish. "With this, no need to be me to turn invisible." He clapped his hands together, clearly pleased with himself.
Cyrus circled the armor, examining it from every angle. His brow furrowed as he took in the intricate details. "For how much did you buy it?" he asked, a note of skepticism in his voice.
Lork's expression morphed into one of indignation. "Do you think I'm a liar? I've been working on this for months!" He waved his hands emphatically, nearly knocking over a nearby stack of papers.
With a smirk, Cyrus plucked a small tag from the armor's shoulder and tossed it to his friend. "When you create a new masterpiece, remove the selling etiquette," he said dryly.
Lork's face flushed a deep crimson, visible even beneath the layer of grime. He scratched his head sheepishly, searching for words. "Shut up," he finally managed, changing the subject. "Why are you even here? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Moving to a cluttered sideboard, Lork poured two generous measures of a amber liquid into mismatched cups. He handed one to Cyrus, who accepted it gratefully.
Cyrus exhaled heavily, slamming his cup on the table with more force than necessary. The liquid sloshed dangerously close to the rim. "You wouldn't believe me," he said, his voice low and troubled.
Lork's eye widened. In a flash, he vaulted over the table with surprising agility for his size, enveloping Cyrus in a bone-crushing embrace. "Oh my, you're a real man now!" he exclaimed, his voice booming in the confined space.
Before Cyrus could react, Lork released him and began stripping off his protective gear with frenetic energy. "We need to feast this," he declared, tossing his goggles and smock aside haphazardly. "Follow me, I have something to show you!"
Cyrus watched in bewilderment as his friend darted up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Shaking his head in amusement, he followed at a more sedate pace. "What again this time?" he called out, pushing open the door to Lork's cluttered office.
The words had barely left his mouth when a shimmering portal materialized on the opposite wall. The swirling vortex of energy cast an eerie, pulsating light throughout the room.
"It's time for you to meet my friends!" Lork exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement. Without a moment's hesitation, he leapt into the portal, disappearing in a flash of light.
Cyrus hesitated for a split second, weighing his options. He trusted Lork implicitly, knowing his friend would never intentionally put him in harm's way. With a deep breath to steel his nerves, he stepped forward and allowed the portal to engulf him.
The sensation was unlike anything Cyrus had ever experienced. His body felt simultaneously compressed and stretched, tossed about like a leaf in a hurricane. The luminous corridor they traveled through pulsed with otherworldly energy, assaulting his senses from every direction. His stomach lurched with each violent change in direction, and he fought down the urge to be sick.
Beside him, Lork whooped and hollered, clearly enjoying the wild ride. His infectious laughter echoed strangely in the magical passageway.
Without warning, the journey ended. Cyrus found himself unceremoniously ejected from the portal, landing face-first on a hard wooden floor. The impact knocked the wind from his lungs, and he struggled to regain his bearings.
"That is what happens when you opt for cheap," he groaned, finally managing to push himself up onto his hands and knees. His head spun, and he retched, bringing up the contents of his stomach.
Lork landed with considerably more grace, flopping onto a nearby sofa with a contented sigh. "Hey, careful," he admonished playfully. "We aren't rich like your new friends."
As Cyrus's senses slowly returned to normal, he became aware of his surroundings. Deafening music pulsed through the air, so loud he could feel the vibrations in his chest. The smell of potent alcohol permeated the space, mingling with the sweat of dancing bodies. Lights flashed and swirled in a dizzying array of colors, adding to his disorientation.
Struggling to his feet, Cyrus found himself face-to-chest with an enormous figure. He craned his neck, his eyes traveling up the muscular torso to meet a single, piercing eye. The cyclops towered over him, radiating an aura of power and barely contained violence.
"It's my friend I've been talking about!" Lork's voice cut through the din. "He's a coward, but a good guy. And guess what? He survived a Karmic monster!"
The music screeched to a halt, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. Every eye in the room turned to focus on Cyrus, who felt himself shrinking under the collective scrutiny. The one-eyed giant before him blinked slowly, processing Lork's words.
With deliberate slowness, the cyclops moved closer. Cyrus's heart hammered in his chest, fight-or-flight instincts screaming at him to run. But he stood his ground, meeting the giant's gaze with as much courage as he could muster.
"In the non-human world," the cyclops rumbled, his voice as deep as thunder, "you're a real man only when you have seen a naked woman and survived a Karmic monster. At least you are a half-man now." Without warning, he enveloped Cyrus in a crushing embrace.
Cyrus gritted his teeth, feeling his bones creak under the pressure. "Then I guess I'm a real man," he managed to wheeze out, forcing an awkward smile.
The giant released him, and Cyrus stumbled back, gasping for air. Lork's eyes widened in realization. "Wait, don't tell me you've already seen a naked woman! Who was she?" He shook his head in mock disappointment. "I thought we were friends, and you didn't tell me!"
Cyrus collapsed onto the sofa next to Lork, wincing at the strange combination of hard and soft textures. "Believe me, you don't want to know," he said cryptically, rubbing his sore ribs.
The one-eyed giant let out a booming laugh that shook the very foundations of the building. "Damn, man! You're a real man now!" He slammed an enormous tankard down in front of Cyrus, sloshing its contents onto the table.
Under the expectant gazes of everyone in the room, Cyrus gingerly picked up the drink. He tilted his head, immediately recoiling from the noxious fumes wafting from the liquid. Steeling himself, he raised the tankard to his lips and drained it in one long, agonizing gulp.
The taste was indescribable, a combination of motor oil, fermented fruit, and what Cyrus could only assume was pure ethanol. He fought the urge to gag as the burning liquid made its way down his throat and settled like molten lead in his stomach.
As soon as he set the empty tankard down, the music resumed at full volume. The party kicked back into high gear, with bodies writhing on the dance floor and drinks flowing freely. Cyrus felt his head begin to swim, the potent alcohol working its way through his system with alarming speed.
Lork grabbed his arm, leading him towards a balcony for some fresh air. The cool night breeze was a welcome relief after the stifling heat of the crowded room.
"This is my new family," Lork said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "I owe everything to them. Without them, I wouldn't have had the will to go on."
Cyrus frowned, his alcohol-addled brain struggling to process the information. "New family? What happened to the old?" He stumbled forward, his balance deserting him. Lork caught him by the neck just before he toppled over the railing.
Steadying himself against the wall, Lork's eye gleamed with a mix of pride and something darker. "In the entirety of Arkania, no one has the ability to turn invisible apart from us Tamarians. Isn't it amazing?" He took another long swig from his drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Those bastards at the bureau captured them to use as invisibility cloak supplies," he added, laughing bitterly as he emptied his glass.
The two friends leaned against each other for support, swaying back and forth as they talked. Cyrus felt his chest tighten as the implications of Lork's words sank in. The only ones able to turn invisible in all of Arkania? It seemed impossible, yet...
A memory flashed through Cyrus's mind – a bloody face pleading for help. Could it be? Lork had said they were all killed, that he was the only survivor. But what if he was wrong?
With trembling hands, Cyrus pulled the glass away from Lork's grasp. "Enough for today," he said firmly, fighting to keep his voice steady.
Lork's protests were cut short as his legs gave out from under him. He crumpled to the ground, his eye struggling to focus. "What the hell do you even mean? We've just started!" he slurred.
Cyrus turned to the other partygoers. "I'm taking him back," he announced, hoisting Lork's considerable bulk onto his shoulders. The walk back through the portal was considerably less exciting than their arrival, with Lork barely conscious and Cyrus's own head spinning from the potent drink.
Back in Lork's shop, Cyrus managed to maneuver his friend onto the small bed tucked away in a corner. As he turned to leave, Lork's hand shot out, grabbing his wrist with surprising strength.
"Thanks, man," Lork mumbled, his eye heavy-lidded but sincere. "You're the only real friend I've ever had. I love you, buddy."
Cyrus froze, his hand on the doorknob. A wave of emotions washed over him – guilt, affection, and a deep, gnawing fear of what he might have to do. He swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.
"What, you wouldn't say it too?" Lork grumbled, his words slurring together as sleep began to claim him.
"Sleep well, buddy," Cyrus managed, his voice thick with emotion. He closed the door quietly behind him, finally allowing the tears to fall freely down his face.
"I'm not worthy of your friendship," he whispered to the empty hallway, the weight of his secrets threatening to crush him.
With trembling fingers, Cyrus pulled out his phone and dialed a number . "Can we still meet?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.