Cyrus stood speechless, confronted with a question that had puzzled countless minds throughout Arkania's history. Lionore's words cut through the silence, laden with a mixture of disdain and revelation.
"I can only blame the prophet for your ignorance," Lionore began, his voice carrying a weight of ancient knowledge. "His words had always been absurd to the common folk but full of wisdom to the wise. I bet he once told you these words: 'We all draw from the essence of life itself to wield magic, a power both potent and perilous. In our pursuit of mastery, we risk disrupting the delicate balance of existence, for every spell woven extracts a toll from the tapestry of life.'"
As Lionore spoke, Cyrus found himself unknowingly repeating the familiar phrase. Their voices merged in an eerie unison: "Beware Lionore/beware Cyrus, for with each incantation spoken, a debt to the cosmos is incurred, demanding recompense in ways unforeseen."
"What he meant," Lionore continued, his eyes gleaming with the fervor of revelation, "is that the karmic monsters are the unforeseen consequences. Because we draw from life itself, the cosmos needs balance. Hence, the karmic monsters came into existence."
Cyrus stumbled back, his mind reeling from the implications of Lionore's words. He had always assumed the cost of magic was personal - his slow-healing body, the prophet sealed in place. Even the prophet himself had seemed to confirm this understanding. But now, it appeared that the prophet's words had carried a deeper, more cosmic significance - as if the universe itself had spoken through him.
The prophet's warning echoed in Cyrus's mind: "demanding recompense in ways unforeseen." So that was the true meaning. Their use of magic birthed karmic monsters, an endless cycle of creation and destruction. As long as they wielded magic, the karmic monsters would never cease to exist.
Lionore's voice rose with passion, his golden hair dancing in the void as he spread his arms wide. "This is why we need to regress back to the primordial magic. If we can recreate the world of the primordial bite, where only we wield magic - not non-humans, not humans transformed into bites, not magical creatures - there will be no more karmic monsters, no more pain, no more wars. Just us, the primordial bite lineage."
The weight of Lionore's words hung heavy in the air, but Cyrus had no time to contemplate further. He sprang into action, his body moving on instinct. Lionore shimmered with dazzling energy, swinging a golden blade that Cyrus narrowly avoided. The dance of combat began in earnest, a deadly ballet of strikes and counter-strikes.
Lionore's abilities were frighteningly impressive. He could teleport short distances, making it impossible for Cyrus and Leora to corner him. Even more alarming was his mastery of the spell magic forge, allowing him to create and shift between various weapons at will. Cyrus, who had struggled to forge anything beyond a sword, found himself in awe of Lionore's versatility.
The battle intensified, the clash of blades and bursts of magic creating a chaotic symphony. Lionore landed atop the globe, his voice cutting through the din of combat. "Your genes are indeed special, no wonder the queen was so adamant about having you. Unfortunately, your understanding of primordial magic is too shallow."
In a flash, the scattered arrows hummed to life, sealing Cyrus and Leora in place. Lionore approached, a fine golden sword materializing in his hand. "It is over," he declared, raising the blade high.
"Now," Cyrus whispered, and a shadow emerged from the chaos. A dagger flew towards Lionore's heart with lightning speed. Though Lionore teleported to safety, the blade still managed to pierce his chest.
Wiping blood from his mouth, Lionore's eyes narrowed as he recognized his attacker. "You're still alive."
"If you want to kill somebody, try harder," the Queen retorted, her presence adding a new layer of tension to the confrontation.
Lionore's mocking smile returned, his eyes filled with disdain. "I see, so this was your strategy to defeat me? How pathetic. You couldn't kill my sworn brother alone, so you asked for my help. You couldn't kill me alone, and now you've enlisted this little boy's aid. The Queen of the Bite, how fantastic."
The battle resumed with renewed ferocity, but Lionore's words had planted seeds of doubt. As he effortlessly evaded the Queen's attacks, he continued his psychological assault. "I get it now. You're here to silence me. But do you really think you have what it takes?"
Leora's movements slowed, confusion evident on her face. "What does he mean?"
The Queen's expression twisted with fear as she realized Lionore's intent. "He's trying to distract you!" she cried, rushing forward only to be sent flying by Lionore's counterattack.
Lionore's voice remained eerily calm as he parried the Queen's strikes. "My sworn brother was delusional, but he was just. Perhaps too just. He couldn't agree with you, nor could he agree with me. I loved him, even when my sword had completely pierced his chest."
Cyrus caught Leora as she stumbled, her world crumbling around her. "Hey, don't listen to him," he urged, unsure if he was trying to convince her or himself. He knew how much Leora had loved the man she thought was her father, the leader who had raised her for much of her life.
The truth unfolded like a nightmare. The Queen had sought to create hybrid bites, willing to sacrifice humans for her cause. Lionore wanted to cleanse Arkania, recreating a primordial bite utopia. Both ideas had been unacceptable to the old leader of the bites. In response, the Queen - his wife - and Lionore - his sworn brother - had joined forces to kill him. Then the Queen had returned, laying the blame solely on Lionore and assuming leadership.
Cyrus felt his heart constrict with empathy and rage. The cruelty of such betrayal was beyond comprehension. He could only imagine the depths of Leora's pain as her world shattered around her.
Leora clung to Cyrus's shirt, her eyes brimming with tears. She seemed to be falling into an endless abyss of despair. Cyrus longed to take her pain away, to shoulder her burden, but he knew he could not. His eyes turned to Lionore, burning with murderous intent.
In that moment of distraction, as the Queen glanced at her devastated daughter, Lionore struck. His sword plunged into the Queen's chest, a triumphant laugh escaping his lips. "I win," he declared, his voice echoing through the chamber as the Queen's body crumpled to the ground.