BOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM!
Before the older man, Taileek Bralley could finish his rant, a loud concussive boom rattled the room as the goateed man was sent flying into the opposite side and embedded in the thick, cemented structure.
"How about you shut your fucking mouth, old man!" Seemingly appearing out of nowhere, Cynrik stood with his left leg held up, indicating the attack he had dished out was that of a rolling sidekick to the man's chest.
"CYNRIK JETLENSR?" One of the bodyguards shouted in confusion after recognizing the young man with his leg raised in the air.
"HOW DID THIS BASTARD GET IN?" A second cried in fright.
"Quit your squabbling; we must protect Patriarch Bralley!" The third of four bodyguards, one with a calmer disposition, stated while rushing forward to attack Cynrik.
Meanwhile, the final bodyguard, a lithe woman, rushed to the aid of her Patriarch, who was embedded in the wall of Geralt's office, struggling to move.
Although Patriarch Bralley was at the Peak of Tier-5, Cynrik held nothing back when he launched his sneak attack, shattering Patriarch Bralley's sternum and all of his ribs and collapsing the man's lungs.
"Call me a brat or Bastard one more time, and I will forgo crippling your bodies and reap your lives instead." Slowly lowering his leg, Cynrik unleashed his combination of Killing Intent and Aura, flattening every bodyguard in the room and the now extricated and injured Patriarch.
"It seems that my absence from the public eye and stagnation at the End of Tier-3 has left you asshats believing me to be weak and a pushover, yet you show up here today with a member of my faction in such a dismembered state and believe I will allow you to leave in one piece?"
"Youuu...youuu...Headmaster Rivia...dooo...something about this Bra...ACK!" Coughing up blood and struggling to glare at Cynrik, Patriarch Bralley reached out his hand and demanded assistance from Geralt, but when he began calling Cynrik a Brat for a second time, five pitch-black spikes shot from the ground and toward the ceiling, unhindered by the arms, legs, and torso in their path from the floor.
"You get two each, but don't touch the guy with the grey facial hair."
'Ahh, really, Papa? I can eats them?' the voice of a young boy entered Cynrik's mind first, and half a second later, another one followed.
'Ok Papa! Ohhh oh, brother, I want the girl; she looks tasty!' A sweet young girl's voice followed the first, causing Cynrik to reach up and scratch both his children under their chins.
Upon Reaching Tier-3, both Sielu and Viisaus finally unlocked the ability to communicate mentally with words, which Milo had completed at Tier-2.
"Yes, you may both feast, but be sure to save their Codexes for later; you know they take time to digest." Wearing a chilling grin, Cynrik shrugged his children off their perches and allowed them to go to work.
Terror and realization that this was the end for them dawned on the four bodyguards, and thanks to Cynrik's intense Killing Intent, they were rendered entirely helpless.
All they could do was watch as the two birds plopped down on their chests and tore out their eyes, followed by other small fleshy bits until...nothing.
What ensued for those watching was a horrific chorus of blood-curdling screams, squelching sounds, and happy coos from the two Nátt Hrafn.
The worst part for the bodyguards was from where they were on the ground; they witnessed everything the two birds did to their comrades, knowing they would soon be following.
"Tsk, couldn't even bring other Tier-5s as backup and cheaped out by bringing Peak Tier-4 lackies; how am I supposed to nurture my children if the idiots who come up against us don't throw everything our way?" Sighing ruefully, Cynrik cradled his chin with his right hand while making his way to the hung Patriarch Bralley.
However, as he was about to begin torturing the old man, several coughs from behind and a weak voice tore Cynrik's attention away.
"C...Cyn...don't...kill the girl...please..." A weak and feeble Kurza choked out while looking at the lady Sie had set her eyes on.