It took only a moment for Cyrus to realize what Knuckles was doing. How irregular! But entirely feasable for one so accustomed to warfare.

He was able to dodge, helped by the Confuse status inflicted on his opponent. His shield was nearly down and Confuse would wear off soon enough, so he had to act fast.

"I expected this! That you would descend into violence despite talk of peace! You accuse me of becoming what I hate and yet you embody all of it! This hypocracy, this foolishness...Do you believe that you are justified? That you may speak one thing and act the opposite? I will not permit this either! I will have order!"

But Cyrus had never been a physical fighter. He was able to use pokémon because their natural fights were far less violent than those found in humans, and whenever his fists had spoken for him, he had found that violent part of himself, that part that he had long struggled to keep at bay, overwhelming him. If he stuck, he would be lost for the time being. If he did not, he would lose everything.

His fists balled, but he wouldn't strike unless struck first.