The corridors of the System Space seemed endless, lined on both sides with closed doors inscribed with the names of different Golden Descendants.
Cyrene walked through this silence, accompanied only by the sound of her own footsteps and the faint rustle of her skirt.
She had just "escaped" from the Elysian Realm—Miss Elysia's enthusiasm was truly more than she could handle; the Miss Pink Elf seemed to have endless energy and curiosity, always wanting to hold her in her arms and knead her, or "get to know her deeply" in ways that made her face burn and her heart race.
(I should go find Anaxa first...)
Cyrene thought to herself, exhaling softly.
She intended to invite Anaxa to visit the Paradise and introduce him to the "Flame-Chasers"—those individuals who, despite their varied personalities, all seemed quite formidable.
After all, Anaxa was one of the few Golden Descendants who had regained their sanity and was willing to assist Madam Herta; perhaps more contact with "outside" existences would be good for everyone.
She stopped in front of the door labeled [Anaxa / Anaxagoras].
The relief on the door depicted a giant tree emitting a soft, faint light against a tranquil night sky, with starlight seemingly flowing between its branches and leaves.
Cyrene reached out, and the door slid open silently.
A warm breeze smelling of grass, soil, and a faint, delicate floral scent rushed to meet her.
Behind the door lay a tranquil courtyard that seemed to exist independently of time and space—the Tree Garden of Divine Enlightenment.
A massive ancient tree, its trunk requiring several people to encircle, stood in the center of the courtyard. Its canopy was like a ceremonial umbrella, with countless tiny, softly glowing points of light hanging from the branches and leaves, resembling an inverted galaxy.
Beneath the tree, lush grass grew, dotted with many strange, softly glowing flowers whose names she did not know, and a path paved with smooth pebbles wound its way toward the tree.
Cyrene carefully leaned half her body inside, her azure eyes blinking as she called out softly: "Anaxa? Are you here?"
There was no response.
Only the rustling of leaves in the breeze.
Cyrene tiptoed and walked along the path.
It was as peaceful and beautiful as ever, allowing her tense nerves to relax a little.
She bypassed a few particularly lush bushes blooming with light blue, trumpet-shaped flowers and was about to call out again—
A suppressed, intermittent "hee-hee" laughter drifted over on the breeze.
Cyrene's footsteps faltered, and her ears pricked up sharply.
This laughter... it sounded a bit like Anaxa, yet also a bit strange.
A trace of doubt arose in her heart. She lightened her footsteps and, using the lush vegetation in the courtyard as cover, approached the source of the sound silently.
The laughter and whispering grew clearer; they were coming from the other side of the giant tree.
Cyrene hid behind a cluster of plants with broad leaves edged in Golden Threads, carefully pushing aside a few leaves to peek through the gap.
She saw Anaxa standing with his back to her, in front of the stone table he often used for his books and experimental equipment.
He was holding a thick, heavy book in his hands, his body swaying from side to side with an extremely subtle rhythm, muttering to himself:
"...Hee-hee... So that's it... The truth of the world... the texture... the veins... I see it... I truly see it! Hee-hee... Solved! For me, it is solved!"
His voice was at times low like sleep-talking, and at other times sharp and filled with excitement, which, combined with the swaying rhythm, appeared exceptionally eerie.
Cyrene watched, stunned.
(Anaxa... what is this?)
Before she could decide whether to speak up, the next scene left her completely frozen.
She saw Anaxa slam the book shut, and then, he actually started... dancing!
It was a somewhat comical dance step.
He tapped his left foot, drew circles with his right, his body swaying left and right to the rhythm, his arms flailing about, and his head bobbing up and down. He continued to emit "hee-hee" laughter, as if immersed in some ecstatic rhythm that no one else could understand.
Cyrene: "..."
She silently pushed the leaves she had parted back a little, leaving only a tiny slit.
Her small face was filled with bewilderment.
(Something... isn't right, is it? Why is he regressing?)
She began to wonder if she had walked into the wrong door, or if the person in front of her wasn't Anaxa at all, but some strange mimic creature.
Just as Cyrene was debating whether to quietly retreat or bite the bullet and say hello, Anaxa spun around, stumbled, and nearly tripped.
Cyrene couldn't help but exclaim: "Anaxa, are you... are you okay?"
"Urgh!"
Anaxa's body froze instantly, as if a pause button had been pressed.
He maintained a bizarre pose, standing on one leg with his arms raised high, and twisted his head around, bit by bit, with extreme stiffness.
When his gaze met Cyrene's azure eyes peeking out from behind the plant leaves, his usually calm face underwent a "spectacular" change in expression—first astonishment, then realization, followed by intense embarrassment.
"When... when did you arrive?"
Anaxa asked dryly, while simultaneously trying to casually put down his raised foot, pull back his flailing arms, and strive to stand straight to restore his usual demeanor.
But he failed.
As soon as his left foot touched the ground, his right foot involuntarily wanted to lift and draw circles again; as soon as his arms dropped to his sides, his fingers began to twitch uncontrollably.
He squeezed his eyes shut, raised a hand to support his forehead, and muttered in annoyance in a voice so low it was almost inaudible: "Damn it... the influence has deepened again..."
Seeing this, Cyrene couldn't bother with the embarrassment; she hurriedly stepped out from her hiding place, trotted over to Anaxa, looked up, and asked with concern: "Anaxa? Are you really okay? Your body... it seems to be... moving on its own?"
She phrased her words carefully, fearing she might upset him.
Anaxa took a deep breath, attempting to use his strong willpower to suppress the urge surging through his limbs to move in time with some invisible rhythm.
His face was a bit pale, and a little sweat was even seeping from his temples.
"I'm, I'm fine."
He said through gritted teeth, his voice a bit more hurried than usual, "Just a... minor issue. It will be better soon."
He changed the subject, trying to return his tone to normal, "What did you come to find me for?"
Cyrene saw that he didn't seem willing to talk more about his physical abnormality, and although she was still very worried, she answered his question first: "It's... it's about the 'Paradise'."
She briefly explained the existence of the Paradise, the powerful warriors from another world inside who were called "Flame-Chasers," and the fact that they had now also been "invited" to the System Space.
"...So, I was thinking, Anaxa, would you like to go over and take a look? Meet them? They... well, although their personalities are a bit strange, they all seem quite formidable, and they know many things that we don't."
Cyrene looked at Anaxa expectantly.
Upon hearing this, a flash of surprise crossed Anaxa's eyes.
Data entities from another world? A special facility that had been transferred over in its entirety?
This indeed exceeded his expectations and piqued his interest as a Scholar.
"To think such a thing would happen..."
He mused, "Otherworldly existences in the form of data entities... worth observing. Take me to see them."
"Great!"
Cyrene nodded happily, but her gaze couldn't help but glance at Anaxa's slightly trembling fingers and his shoulder, which kept wanting to tilt in a certain direction.
Anaxa noticed her gaze, and his body stiffened again.
Only then did he belatedly realize that his "frenzied dance" from earlier and his current "micro-movements" had likely all been seen.
He felt quite embarrassed.
"Ahem!"
He coughed forcefully, trying to use a serious expression to cover up his embarrassment, "That... my body, um, has developed a minor abnormality. It is because..."
He paused, deciding it was better to confess part of the truth to avoid Cyrene letting her imagination run wild.
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