The swirling of bodies and weapons caused his blood to flow hot, the thrumming, boiling hate and anger that seemed to be in such excess within his bloodlines caused him to lose himself in the fray. His power axe tore through whatever he could direct it into. Kyros' timing and striking techniques were still carefully executed, but without the flourish or aesthetic technique of his newfound comrades in the two Emperor's Children whom he now fought alongside. Likely he looked to them to be no less savage than his Brothers who were trying to kill them.
Using his shield to push into a group of World Eaters, to drive them back and give himself an avenue of attack was successful once again, but as Kyros went to bring his shield back close to his body he found resistance. Four World Eaters gripped the shield, they bore no weapons, having broken them or simply lost themselves completely to madness. His shield was suddenly ripped away from him, and now he had nothing in his left hand, the four World Eaters clambored forward, nearly climbing over one another to get at him, the first managed to catch him with a surprise strike, a heavy punch that knocked the wind from him and caused him to stagger back hunched over. Another World Eater pushed his way to the fore, he wanted to be the first to tear flesh from their Brother who would not turn from the Emperor.
Kyros managed to get enough breath back into his body to posture up just enough to let loose a devastating slash across the approaching World Eater's mid section, the blade cut deeply and cleanly, his entrails poured forth from the gaping wound as he fell before Kyros, his own brothers killed him in their frantic race to get to Kyros. Clawing and grasping at him, he lopped off arms and hacked into the bodies of his enemies, spilling their foul blood onto the sundered ground. They didn't let the loss of life nor limb deter them and Kyros found himself with no room to maneuver his weapon anymore, bringing it back to strike and create some distance again, but he was tackled to the ground, they clawed at his armor and brought their fists down upon him, raining blows down. He kicked up at them, trying to give himself a moment where he might regain his footing. As he attempted to rise up, a hand covered his optical sensors attempting to tear his helmet off, in the process pushing him back to the ground.
He knew he would fight until his life was no more, but he did not expect that to be much longer when suddenly the thudding echoes of auto cannons roared over the sounds of the surging World Eaters. Two of his traitor Brothers disintegrated in front of him, having been preparing to land the death knell. The resound of bolter fire followed it and like the tide being drawn back out the wave of World Eaters was broken, torn to shreds with precision fire.
Kyros' groggy vision caught the familiar colors of the Death Guard, one of their number knelt beside him and he felt the familiar piercing in his arm of stimulants, fast acting, surging through his rapidly pumping blood his senses came back to him in a rush. He was coherent enough to hear the Apothecary speak to the three of them "Gather what you need, we cannot stay here." Kyros had already instinctively found his shield. He liberated a standard backpack unit from a fallen traitor, having jetisoned his jump pack what seemed like a lifetime ago in the initial scramble to avoid the virus bomb. Then, suddenly something shot into his mind. "Alaros Gillguman! Is he with your number?" His question directed to the Apothecary who had addressed them. "We were navigating this terrain together and became separated." There was a hopefulness to his tone that seemed wholly out of place in the current circumstances, but Alaros had been a very capable, competent marine, and strange as it was, had become a person Kyros felt he could wholly rely on in this dark time.