Warlock of Oceans: My Poseidon System

In a surge of determination, Lupis retaliated with a swift knee strike to Kael's abdomen, the impact resonating with a sickening thud. Kael, undeterred, countered with a powerful uppercut, his knuckles connecting with Lupis's jaw. The sound of bone meeting bone echoed through the dungeon, a visceral reminder of the unbridled brutality of their clash.

Wounds adorned their bodies like badges of honor as Lupis, tapping into his reserves of strength, executed a spinning back fist, aiming for Kael's temple. Kael, displaying an instinctive mastery of evasion, ducked beneath the arcing strike, narrowly avoiding the potential knockout blow. The ferocity of their exchange escalated, the air thick with the scent of sweat and blood.

Kael, fueled by a surge of adrenaline, initiated a relentless combination of hooks and jabs, his movements a testament to the unyielding determination etched on his face. Lupis, demonstrating an uncanny ability to read his opponent, swayed and weaved through the flurry of strikes with calculated precision. Each punch and dodge carried the weight of survival, the combatants locked in a dance of death within the dungeon's macabre embrace.

The brutality continued unabated as Lupis, seizing an opportunity, delivered a crushing elbow strike to Kael's midsection. Kael, gritting his teeth against the pain, retaliated with a ferocious knee to Lupis's torso. The visceral exchange of blows, a symphony of agony and resilience, painted a vivid picture of their unrelenting determination to emerge victorious.

The confined space became a battleground of attrition as Lupis, channeling the last reserves of his strength, launched into a series of powerful kicks aimed at Kael's limbs. Kael, displaying an iron-clad defense, absorbed the punishing blows with a stoic resolve. The dungeon walls, adorned with tales of past trials, bore witness to the unchained savagery of their conflict.

The combatants, both on the brink of collapse, engaged in a desperate clinch, grappling for dominance. Lupis, summoning the remnants of his energy, attempted a final throw to unbalance Kael. Yet, Kael, drawing from sheer willpower, resisted the maneuver, his muscles screaming in protest.

As the seconds ticked away, Lupis and Kael found themselves locked in a battle of endurance, each refusing to yield to the other. The dungeon, an arena of carnage, echoed with the ragged breaths and the shuffling of exhausted footsteps. Their movements, now sluggish and labored, spoke of the toll exacted by the relentless brutality of their clash.

In a last, desperate gambit, Kael unleashed a thunderous roundhouse kick, aiming for Lupis's head. Lupis, teetering on the precipice of collapse, mustered the strength for a final evasion, avoiding the potentially fatal blow by a hair's breadth. The combatants, their bodies battered and minds consumed by a primal will to survive, stood at the brink of exhaustion.

Lupis, summoning the last reserves of his strength, unleashed a swift succession of kicks, targeting Kael's limbs with ruthless precision. Kael, displaying an iron-clad defense, absorbed the punishing blows with a stoic resolve, his body battered but unbroken. The symphony of their brutal clash echoed through the cavernous dungeon, the air thick with the scent of sweat and blood.

Seizing an opportunity, Lupis executed a calculated spinning back fist, aiming for Kael's temple with the intent of delivering a knockout blow. Kael, relying on his instinctive mastery of evasion, ducked beneath the arcing strike, narrowly avoiding the potentially fatal impact. The sound of their movements reverberated through the bone-crafted walls, a testament to the ferocity of their exchange.

In a desperate clinch, Lupis and Kael grappled for dominance, their muscles straining against the brutal toll exacted by the relentless confrontation. Lupis, fueled by sheer determination, attempted a final throw to unbalance Kael, seeking to exploit the last remnants of his opponent's dwindling strength. Yet, Kael, drawing on an inner reserve of willpower, resisted the maneuver, his body screaming in protest.

As the seconds ticked away, the two combatants found themselves locked in a battle of endurance, each refusing to yield to the other. The dungeon, an arena of carnage, bore witness to their ragged breaths and the shuffling of exhausted footsteps. Their movements, now sluggish and labored, spoke volumes about the intensity of their struggle.

In a last, desperate gambit, Kael unleashed a thunderous roundhouse kick, aiming for Lupis's head. Lupis, teetering on the brink of collapse, mustered the last reserves of his strength for a final evasion, avoiding the potentially fatal blow by a hair's breadth. The combatants, their bodies battered and minds consumed by the primal will to survive, stood at the brink of exhaustion.

With an almost imperceptible movement, Lupis seized the opportunity to deliver a decisive strike. His fist, fueled by the remnants of his strength, connected with Kael's jaw in a final, brutal uppercut. The sound of bone meeting bone echoed through the dungeon as Kael, his resilience finally worn thin, crumpled to the ground.

Lupis, victorious but equally on the verge of collapse, stood amidst the aftermath of their savage confrontation. The dungeon, now a silent witness to the endurance of two warriors, bore the echoes of their struggle in the etchings on its cold, bone-crafted walls. The air hung heavy with the scent of victory and defeat, and Lupis, with a weary yet triumphant gaze, emerged as the survivor of this merciless battle.

"I guess the difference in strength wasn't as great as I thought…" Cyrus muttered before sinking back into the shadows.
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…

"It seems we have a few escapees… or they died by some unnatural means," The knight muttered and even though it was hard to see his eyes, it was obvious that he was looking at Lupis's bloody hands.

Not only had Kael been killed but it seems Velan had escaped as well. Nobody seemed to have known where he went so it was best to assume he just straight up went awol as soon as he had the chance to.

"Alright, you have the rest of the day off. Train, eat, and indulge in the pleasures of the city. It's all up to you," The knight announced and so Cyrus quickly walked up to Elara who was talking with Seraphina.

"What is it?" She asked.

"I need you to repay me now."

"And you promise it isn't anything weird?" Elara nervously chuckled.

"Of course."

Elara and Cyrus made their way back to the main palace, the weight of recent events lingering in the air. The grandeur of the palace halls felt like a stark contrast to the brutality they had witnessed in the dungeon. As they walked, Elara exchanged a few words with Seraphina, the three of them navigating the ornate corridors.

Upon reaching Cyrus's room, he ushered Elara inside. The atmosphere within the room carried a mixture of tension and anticipation. The flickering candles cast dancing shadows across the walls, creating an intimate ambiance. The air was thick with unspoken words as they stood in the quiet space.

"I need you to engrave me with the rune of transformation and the rune of the leviathan," Cyrus muttered, taking off his shirt and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"How… do you know those?"

"A friend's friend I knew a while back was in the same position as you. And, since you asked me a question, can I ask you one?" Cyrus replied while Elara hopped onto the bed behind him and slowly revealed her finger which was covered in a dark purple light.

"Depends on what it is."

"Well, ask after this…"

With a focused intent, Elara began the intricate process of carving the Rune of Transformation onto Cyrus's back. The dark purple light intensified, casting an ethereal glow in the dimly lit room. The rune, a symbol of change and metamorphosis, took shape under Elara's skillful guidance.

Moving with precision, Elara then turned her attention to the Rune of the Leviathan. This symbol, representing the ancient and powerful sea creature, held a unique significance in the context of the Leviathan City. As she engraved the rune, the room seemed to resonate with a subtle hum, as if acknowledging the connection being forged.

Cyrus maintained a composed demeanor, his trust placed in Elara's expertise. The runes, etched onto his back, aligned with the spine, tapping into the innate connection with his nervous system. The process was both mystical and intimate, as each stroke of Elara's finger wove a story of arcane empowerment.

As the last lines of the runes took form, the room settled into a serene quietude. Elara withdrew her finger, the dark purple light fading away. The engravings now adorned Cyrus's back, a manifestation of the mystical bonds forged between them.

"Who did that to you?" Cyrus asked, wiping a drop of sweat from his forehead.

"A cult I used to be a part of. Now, no more questions. I gave you what you want…"

"Yeah, thanks," Cyrus heaved as Elara exited the room, giving him some time to breathe by himself. As his heart rate slowed and the pain of the runes slowly subsided, he concentrated on the markings on his spine and closed his eyes once more.