Chapter 93: Already lost control

"Oh? So you chose to step into a losing-control Sentinel’s isolation cell without a shred of protection—and you don’t even plan to run away immediately?"

The corner of his lips curled into a mocking arc, his dark eyes brimming with pure amusement. "Miss Bunny, are you some psycho?"

"Or do you honestly believe a manic, unraveling Sentinel won’t tear you completely to shreds?"

A cold chill crept up from the soles of Bunny’s feet. Yet looking at Cyrus right now, he didn’t look like he was losing control at all.

He was the polar opposite of Liam’s violent, thrashing breakdown from before.

"I’m the Guide assigned to this unit—of course I have to take responsibility for my job! If you have a problem, we address it. Your mental sea is completely unstable right now. What if you trigger a full-blown psychic storm?"

Cyrus displayed an utterly indifferent attitude. "Then I die. Simple as that."

"Well, I don’t want you to die!"

Bunny’s mouth had always been faster than her brain. Her parents used to nag her constantly about being far too blunt—a trait that hardly served anyone well in normal society, as it was bound to offend people.

Yet for a Sentinel, it hit the absolute bullseye.

Cyrus was clearly caught off guard by her response. His long, narrow, ink-black eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her face, searching for even the faintest trace of falsehood.

Yet there was none.

He stared at her as if looking at a complete freak.

Any Guide who had received even a baseline education would never choose to make voluntary contact with an unstable Sentinel.

Unless her head was seriously messed up.

So, was this woman’s head messed up too?

Undeniably, the moment Bunny uttered those words, a microscopic, almost imperceptible ripple stirred deep within Cyrus’s heart.

Who would ever want to be abandoned?

Not even his own parents had ever told him that they didn’t want him to die.

Cyrus had been selected as the most genetically superior zygote among dozens of fertilized eggs, allowing him to grow day by day inside an artificial amniotic womb.

As for his birth date, his mother had intentionally delayed his extraction by a full month simply because she considered a specific day auspicious.

He ended up sharing a birthday with his father. Consequently, Cyrus had grown up completely numb to the concept of celebrating his birth.

The star of that birthday was always his father—wearing a crown, held in his mother’s arms, parroting "Happy Birthday" to the man.

Genetic selection certainly had its perks: Cyrus carried zero hereditary flaws, while his appearance, innate talent, combat potential, and physical height were all maxed out to absolute peak limits.

He picked up everything at terrifying speed—piano, violin, accordion... as well as piloting combat aircraft and genetic programming. Every single course yielded an S-tier distinction.

He spent barely two years at the Military Academy before graduating early with top honors.

Yet to his parents, his role was never that of a beloved son, but rather the most optimal corporate successor.

Whenever he failed to meet their exact expectations—such as his unyielding temperament—they wouldn’t hesitate to remark callously:

"If we knew you’d turn out with this kind of attitude, we shouldn’t have let you be born in the first place."

He was nothing more than a high-value fertilized egg. Even if he died, his parents could effortlessly cultivate another one.

Amos was the living proof of that.

After being exiled to 616, Cyrus had severed all contact with his family of his own accord, feeling there was simply no point anymore.

If they had offered him even a single sentence of genuine comfort—even a simple wish for him to stay alive and well—he wouldn’t have reached such a cold, fractured point of no return.

Cyrus’s silent, piercing gaze made Bunny’s scalp prickle with tension.

"Did you act like this before... when you chose to bind with Liam?" 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ

His voice dropped into a light, airy register, as if merely verifying a suspicion he had held for a long time.

Bunny nodded honestly.

"Foolish woman," Cyrus ridiculed her without a shred of mercy. "If every Sentinel uses the exact same excuse to trick you in the future, are you going to throw yourself into the fire over and over again?"

Bunny refused to agree. "Liam didn’t trick me at all!"

Cyrus lapsed back into total silence.

Two minutes later, he suddenly stood up from the floor. His imposing, near-two-meter frame loomed over her like a massive wall of solid stone. His words were slow and measured, yet every single syllable dripped with increasing danger:

"Sentinels are creatures remarkably skilled at camouflage and eliciting sympathy. Miss Bunny, it seems you still know far too little about us. Take me right now, for example... I’ve actually already lost control."

In an instant, a mental tide as dense and heavy as an ancient mountain range crashed down on Bunny. Countless dark mental threads transformed into terrifying, Cthulhu-like tentacles, wrapping and coiling tightly around her entire body.

Cyrus had been putting on a front the entire time. And now, he was dropping the mask.

Bunny could vividly perceive the staggering, insurmountable gap between their power levels—like a tiny Mayfly gazing up at the vast heavens. With such an absolute disparity in rank, executing a successful soothing was a total impossibility!

She turned to flee, but the pitch-black mental tendrils sprouting from his spine swept her up off her feet, dragging her steadily back toward his chest.

"I gave you time to run, but you didn’t take it."

The man’s broad hand gently caressed her cheek, as if stroking a fragile, exquisite flower.

"Didn’t you say... you didn’t want me to die?"

The corners of Cyrus’s mouth hooked into a dangerously sharp smirk. "I need you right now..."

His warm thumb pressed down hard, rolling mercilessly over her lower lip.

"Soothe me."

Bunny’s mind exploded with a deafening roar—she had walked straight into a predator’s lair. This man had maintained such an eerie, composed facade from the start that she had completely dropped her guard.

She struggled with all her remaining strength. "Cyrus, calm down!"

Yet how could a chaotic Chi ever listen to reason? Bunny was forcibly dragged into a mental sea link. Her own Guide energy was continuously harvested, sucked out, and plundered without restraint—his consciousness was a bottomless black hole.

Bunny had never witnessed such a terrifying, predatory drain. Inside, Cyrus’s mental sea was a pitch-black expanse of pure, lifeless silence, devoid of any light.

If this continued, she would be completely drained dry. Once a Guide’s mental sea was depleted to exhaustion, her mind would shatter, causing her rank to plummet permanently.

Yet her puny, feeble resistance was nothing more than an ant attempting to shake a massive tree.

Despair slowly overwhelmed Bunny. Completely locked inside his absolute domain of hunting, she couldn’t move an inch as those dark tendrils bound her wrists and ankles in a vise grip. Tears spilled uncontrollably from the corners of her eyes.