Phaethon looked up, wanting to find a place for Phainon to rest, but everywhere his eyes landed, the scorched black earth of Aedes Elysiae remained a shocking sight.
The past ravages of the Black Tide had left indelible scars on this beautiful homeland, and the air still seemed to carry the scent of ash and despair.
However, the rising sun on the horizon, having broken free from the long night, poured its warm and life-giving dawn without reservation across this long-suffering land. It also gently enveloped the shoulders of the two figures, supporting each other as they stood amidst the ruins.
The golden light gilded their tattered robes, their dust-touched hair, and their weary yet resolute faces with a brilliant, hopeful radiance of rebirth.
At this moment, after crossing over three million cycles of vigil, enduring the bone-deep flames of hatred and sacrifices that transcended life and death, the two deliverers of Amphoreus were finally able to truly bask together in this hard-won... dawn.
Drip.
Blood, hot as molten gold, flowed from Phainon's body, slowly dripping onto the blackened soil of Aedes Elysiae with a faint sound.
But then, this drop of blood was absorbed by the parched earth, leaving only a small, dark stain.
Phaethon steadily supported Phainon with his left hand as he stumbled, carrying almost all of his weight. His brows were slightly furrowed, his voice mixing genuine concern with a deliberately displayed, impatient tsundere tone:
"I'm telling you, Phainon, you were way too reckless, weren't you? Just to land a solid slap on that guy Nanook, you nearly burned yourself to ashes from the inside out. And now look at you, you can barely walk straight, like you've got severe anemia... Was it really necessary to go that far?"
Phainon gasped for breath with difficulty, but a very faint, stubborn arc tugged at the corner of his pale lips. His voice, though weak, was exceptionally clear:
"Call me... older brother..."
Phaethon's supporting movement suddenly halted, as if something had unexpectedly pricked him.
He shot a quick glance at Phainon, then continued to help him walk forward as if nothing had happened, just slowing his pace a little, and stiffly tried to change the subject:
"Ahem... I mean, were you so focused on fighting earlier that you just left that troublesome Zephyro aside and charged headfirst at Nanook all on your own?"
"Do you have any idea? I was having a 'tit-for-tat' battle with Celenova, really getting into the rhythm, when suddenly another Lord Ravager popped up right next to me! Do you understand how dangerous that was? I almost got caught in a pincer attack!"
He tried to emphasize his own "difficulties" to gain the upper hand in the conversation.
However, Phainon seemed completely oblivious to his long string of "accusations," or rather, right now he only wanted to emphasize his own point.
He tilted his head slightly, looking at Phaethon's profile, and repeated in a calm tone made even more irritating by his weakness:
"Call me older brother. I... slapped Nanook before you did."
"..."
Phaethon's right hand clenched into a fist, his knuckles whitening from the force.
'He felt his temples throbbing with rage, a surge of inexplicable frustration mixed with some indescribable resentment rushing to his head. Right now, he wanted to find a patch of ground that looked somewhat soft and just dump this ungrateful, thankless jerk right onto it.'
He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing this urge, and stubbornly continued to "claim credit," trying to turn the tables:
"Phainon, I'm telling you, you better remember my kindness well and be grateful! If I hadn't shown great mercy at the critical moment and risked everything to pull you back from that godforsaken place, you'd be long cold by now, your ashes scattered by Nanook. At best, there'd be just a little bit of white dust floating in the universe. How could you be standing here peacefully with me, bathing in the warm sunlight and breathing... relatively fresh air?"
He deliberately painted the present situation as extremely beautiful, trying to highlight his "life-saving grace."
Phainon listened quietly, then, very seriously, even "sincerely," looked at him and nodded:
"Thank you." Just as Phaethon's expression relaxed slightly, thinking he had finally given in, Phainon's next words followed closely, like a accurate parting shot:
"But, call me older brother. I slapped Nanook one step before you did."
Phaethon: "..."
'He felt himself about to reach maximum temperature! Was this guy a broken record?! Could he say anything other than this sentence?!'
Frustration surged, and Phaethon spoke rapidly, almost interrupting:
"Hey! Don't get so cocky! In a certain sense, the total number of cycles I've experienced means my real age is older than everyone who has ever lived on the planet Amphoreus combined! By that logic, I'm the one who..."
He tried to use "seniority" to suppress the other.
Phainon seemed to chuckle softly, the laugh so faint it was almost inaudible, yet it carried a "deadly" effect, like a feather deflecting a weight.
Still looking at the rising sun ahead, he continued in that same calm tone that could infuriate someone to death:
"What you said is right." He paused, leaving just the right half-beat of pause to make Phaethon's blood pressure spike, and then—
"Call me older brother. I slapped Nanook one step before you did."
"PHAINON! I KNOW YOU SLAPPED NANOOK ONE STEP BEFORE I DID!!!"
Phaethon angrily shut his mouth, supporting this "older brother" who infuriated him and made him helpless, yet whom he absolutely could not let go of, step by step through the scorched earth and morning light of Aedes Elysiae, heading deeper into its ruins.
Sunlight cast their intertwined, silently competing shadows very, very long upon the blackened ground.
...
Finally.
"Phaethon," Phainon's voice was hoarser than before, carrying a weariness of near-complete burnout. He slightly raised his arm, which could still move, pointing to a patch of ground not far away that looked no different from the other scorched earth. "I want... to rest there for a while..."
Phaethon looked in the direction he pointed. The moment his gaze touched that land, his heart stirred.
He recognized it instantly, this area was once Phainon's family's wheat field, where golden waves would ripple under the sun.
They used to chase and play there, and lie side-by-side among the dense wheat stalks, gazing at the clear sky of Aedes Elysiae, talking about naive yet sincere dreams, letting the wheat ears gently brush their cheeks.
Phaethon was silent, asking no questions. He just supported Phainon even more carefully, step by step toward that land filled with countless memories.
As they reached the spot, beneath their feet was cold, hardened, ash-mixed scorched earth, with not a trace left of the former wheat field's abundance and vitality.
Phainon lowered his head to gaze at this desolation. In his eyes, dimmed by exhausts, a complex emotion, hard to decipher, seemed to flicker.
Then, his form swayed, and tugging at Phaethon's hand, he collapsed backward onto the ground.