"Hmm..." A voice, steady as a mountain, as if carrying the echoes of the earth's veins, slowly resonated. "I am Terravox 1965875." The voice carried a prudence born of having experienced vicissitudes.
"Regarding that 'Asterion' walking the world, the will of 'Preservation' he displays—more pure and persistent than that of ancient Dromas—truly astonishes me."
The voice paused briefly, but contained no worry. Instead, it revealed a profound insight and trust:
"But I... am not concerned he will lose himself in this preservation. Because no matter how he evolves, in his essence... he remains a 'son of humanity'..."
The voice grew increasingly deep and powerful, as if expounding a truth:
"And perhaps the most fundamental difference between man and beast... is that there will always be those who choose to remember him, to understand him, and try to pull him back to the shore of 'humanity.'"
"Finally, later 'me,' if... if you still have the chance, remember, on my behalf, say thank you to that person..."
...
"I am Castorice 9654863." A voice gentle as butterfly wings, carrying sudden realization and faint sorrow, sounded.
"Only after learning all this buried past did I suddenly realize that my life's path had been so gently altered and cherished in corners unknown to me..."
The voice was filled with indescribably complex emotions:
"But, Lord Phaethon, you silently gave so much for us. Why... why in nearly all the recurrences that followed, did everyone and you seem like two parallel lines, never truly meeting, never truly knowing each other?"
A sigh, containing endless regret, rippled through consciousness:
"Looking back, the greatest regret of my life is not failing to achieve some great deed, but... never being able to say 'thank you' to him in person."
Her voice grew firm again, carrying the solemnity of fulfilling a mission:
"Alright, I must now fulfill my duty of 'flame chasing.' Like all Chrysos Heirs before, I will use this precious opportunity to depict, to record, in this recurrence, everything I know about Lord Phaethon..."
Then, all returned to that unchanging request:
"Finally, later 'me,' if you have the chance, remember to offer him a sincere thank you."
...
"I am Hyacine 23576635." A voice carrying a healer's gentleness and concern arrived. "Honestly, before learning the full truth, I was always worried about Phaethony's mental state, because the him I saw with my own eyes... seemed truly exhausted, truly unwell."
But the voice then brightened and warmed, as if discovering some cure:
"But... it turns out... in places we couldn't see, there were so many people, each in their own way, wanting to remember him, to heal him."
Into that gentle tone was infused an unshakable determination:
"Then, as a physician, I absolutely cannot fall short, can I?"
Finally, the same sincere entrustment, joining this grand chorus:
"Finally, if you have the chance, please say thank you to him for me."
...
The Chrysos Heirs, little by little, immersed themselves in these faintly glimmering fragments of memory, left by countless "selves" across the river of time.
They felt as if walking through a river of stars paved by countless luminaries, leading to the past.
This precious opportunity, meant to anchor their own existence and recount their own epic, was unanimously used by the Chrysos Heirs of all cycles to do something seemingly "futile"—
That was to meticulously and affectionately recount, in every single recurrence, the deeds, the every little detail of that existence named "Phaethon."
Although, in a complete cycle, they only had twelve chances, only twelve brief sentences to depict his long and heavy life...
...
And... there was one thing that never varied.
At the end of every message, no matter who it originated from, no matter if their tone was heroic or gentle, rational or sentimental, they all ultimately converged on the same simple yet immensely weighty phrase—
"Later one, remember above all, say thank you to him."
33,550,335 recurrences.
They left behind 402,604,020 sentences about him.
Phaethon, with his special ability, alone remembered the joys and sorrows, the existence, of all Chrysos Heirs across 33,550,335 recurrences.
And the Chrysos Heirs of all 33,550,335 cycles, using their only, precious opportunities, jointly depicted and pieced together Phaethon's likeness.
402,604,020 sentences, too long.
So long that to finish them, the Chrysos Heirs spent over ten million recurrences.
402,604,020 sentences, yet too short.
Too short to truly piece together Phaethon's complete and complex life spanning over ten million recurrences.
...
So, this was not a "flame chase" defined by any existence, collecting Coreflames to create a world.
This was the Chrysos Heirs, in their own way, chasing that "flame" that, cycle after cycle of dark despair, illuminated the end times for them, brought them warmth and hope—Phaethon.
So... this was the longest, and most romantic, flame chase journey... behind Amphoreus...
...
Finally, Aglaea, holding the 「Romance」Coreflame, slowly raised her head.
Her eyes no longer held the pain and confusion when she first learnt that she was deceived. In its place was a clear resolve, an understanding carrying on the unfulfilled wishes of all "previous lives."
She looked at her companions beside her, also returning from the torrent of memories—Tiribius, Cipher, Cerydra, Hysilens, Anaxagoras, Mydei, Terravox, Castorice, Hyacine... In their eyes, she saw the same light.
It was understanding of the truth, resonance with that silent epic, and above all, endless concern for that lonely figure and... a determination about to be put into action.
"We all heard," Aglaea's voice was soft, yet clearly reached every Chrysos Heir's ear, carrying a power that allowed no doubt. "And... we all remembered."
She looked down at the Coreflame in her hand, carrying countless "thank yous." It now emitted an unprecedented, warm and soft glow.
"Then, now..."
She took a deep breath, exchanging a glance with the other Chrysos Heirs. Words were unnecessary; determination was already shared.
"...It's time for us to find him, to tell him all this ourselves."
"This 'flame chase,' pursued for over ten million recurrences..."
"...should not, and absolutely cannot, end like this!"
The true flame chase, at this moment, was only just rushing toward its conclusion.
Author PS: Finally wrote out this 'flame chase' spanning ten million recurrences. I conceived it for a long time, hoping to convey that profound romance.
In fact, I myself am quite satisfied with this plot, but writing such a grand turning point truly tests my skill; achieving true perfection is simply beyond me.