Cloudstone Sky Palace, Council Hall.
The air was as heavy as lead, making it hard to breathe.
Dan Heng's voice, clear and cold as ice, revealed Amphoreus's bloodiest truth, word by word.
"The essence of the Stelle's Journey is not hope, but a meticulously written 'code'."
His gaze slowly swept over everyone present.
Aglaea, Anaxa, hyacine, Tribbie, Castorice, and Mydei, whose aura was as profound as an abyss after just finishing his trial.
The same emotion was frozen on everyone's faces—extreme shock and collapse.
"Every convergence of the sparks, every so-called 're-creation,' is merely providing nourishment for the 'hatching' of a certain existence."
"That existence is named 'Iron Tomb,' a Lord Ravager."
"Once the code is complete and the sparks are in place, Iron Tomb will descend."
"At that time, what will be destroyed is not just Amphoreus, but countless stars beyond."
Inside the hall, there was dead silence.
Every syllable turned into an invisible heavy hammer, smashing fiercely into the hearts of the Chrysos Heirs, shattering their millennia-old faith.
Dan Heng did not pause, continuing to reveal an even more brutal core.
"Therefore, our true goal is to gather the sparks, prevent the 're-creation,' and then carry the flame of Amphoreus's civilization to the next brand-new cycle."
"And this, one person has silently done over thirty million times."
As if pulled by invisible threads, everyone's gaze converged simultaneously towards the hall entrance.
There, Phainon, carrying a large bag of desserts and a cyan porcelain vase he had just picked up from a street stall, looked somewhat bewildered at the extremely subdued people in the hall.
Meeting everyone's fervent gazes, Phainonstammered, "Ev... everyone... what's wrong?"
hyacine, Anaxa, Aglaea, Tribbie, Castorice... gazes projected towards him, mixed with shock, pity, disbelief, and a hint of unspeakable reverence.
Phainon's confusion deepened.
Ultimately, it was Stelle who stepped forward.
She walked up to Phainon, looked directly into his eyes, and repeated everything Dan Heng had just said.
"...So, the one who personally destroyed his homeland every time..."
She had to let him know the whole truth.
"...it is you, Phainon."
Clang—
The cyan porcelain vase in Phainon's hand slipped, shattering into a tragic spray of cyan shards on the mirror-smooth Cloudstone floor.
The bag of desserts he was carrying also fell to the ground, exquisite pastries rolling everywhere, a messy sight.
Phainon stumbled backward, the color draining from his face at a visible speed, turning into a deathly gray.
"No... impossible..."
He murmured to himself, his eyes hollow as he stared at the ornate dome, as if the pillars supporting his entire world were breaking inch by inch at this moment, collapsing with a crash.
"The black-robed masked man... was me?"
"Cyrene... I killed her with my own hands?"
An intense, unshakeable despair emanated from him.
The pain was so real and flawless that everyone present felt it deeply.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Only Anaxa's eyes, on the other hand, flickered with a strange excitement.
At the end of despair, awaiting the arrival of hope.
And now, Phainon had waited for them.
Aglaea took a deep breath, having already regained the clarity and decisiveness of a leader.
She declared in a deep voice, "Now, the direction is clear. Stelle and Castorice, proceed immediately to'Styxia'."
"The rest of you, prepare for the Citizen's Assembly!"
At the mention of the Citizen's Assembly, Dan Heng's gaze lingered on Phainon for a moment, a hint of understanding, known only to the two of them, hidden deep within his eyes.
Everyone nodded, preoccupied, casting one last glance at the distraught Phainon, and slowly left the hall with complex feelings.
Soon.
The vast council hall was left with only Phainon.
He stood there blankly, like an isolated island abandoned by the world.
Heavy footsteps approached from afar.
Mydei hadn't gone far, constantly observing Phainon's state.
However, his inner drive still compelled him to walk to Phainon's side.
He looked at the mess on the floor and Phainon's hollow eyes, wanting to say something, but found that his complicated words of comfort simply wouldn't come out.
In the end, he chose the most direct approach.
"Hey, Deliverer."
"You can't get back up after just this much of a blow? How embarrassing."
Phainon didn't even lift his eyelids, his voice hoarse: "Say whatever you want..."
Mydei snorted coldly, "How about this, let's go to the super-high temperature bathhouse, and we'll compete to see who lasts longer!"
A flicker of light passed through Phainon's hollow eyes.
"I'll compete!"
—
Not long after.
Inside the Okhema public bathhouse, heat waves rolled, and wails filled the air.
Bathers were carried out one by one, their bodies crimson, foaming at the mouth, showing severe symptoms of dehydration.
Aglaea, along with Tribbie and hyacine, rushed over, and seeing the mess, their temples throbbed.
Following the terrified guidance of the crowd, they found the source of the disaster.
Inside the room, where the steam was so thick you could barely see your hand.
Mydei, stripped to the waist, his bulging muscles scalded red and shiny, lay sprawled on the scorching floor, using his last ounce of strength to point a trembling finger forward.
Opposite him, Phainon was impeccably dressed, not even a drop of sweat on him, his expression calm.
"One... one more round..." Mydei uttered his final defiance.
hyacine darted over, and as her hand brushed Mydei's forehead, she recoiled as if shocked.
"My goodness! Mydei, you're already medium-rare!"
"The dictionary of Castrum kremnos does not contain..."
Then, Mydei fell silent.
Hearing this, Phainon finally curved his lips into a faint smile.
The grief and confusion in his heart had long been completely evaporated in this absurd competition.
It must be said, Mydei's simple and crude way of showing concern was quite unique.
He brushed off his sleeves, raised his right hand towards the almost unconscious Mydei on the ground, and declared solemnly with a tone of victorious announcement.
"I'm sorry, Mydeimos, I won."
Aglaea, hyacine, and Tribbie, helplessly held their foreheads.
"The two strongest warriors of Okhema are indeed children who will never grow up."
Her voice carried a hint of indulgence, but then, her eyes sharpened.
She looked at Phainon.
"Phainon, it seems you're alright now."
"Are you free now? I'd like to talk with you... at the Primordial Vortex."
Phainon nodded slightly, his expression returning to their usual calmness.
"Understood, Lady Aglaea."
—
Primordial Vortex.
Empty, silent, with only the faint glow of energy flowing around.
Aglaea stood alone, her back to the entrance, in quiet contemplation.
She heard footsteps behind her but did not turn around.
"Phainon."
Her voice echoed in the vast space, carrying an undeniable penetrative force.
"Can you tell me, who exactly are you?"
Phainon's footsteps halted.
"Aglaea, what do you mean?"
Aglaea slowly turned, her golden eyes now as sharp as two unsheathed swords.
"You can deceive others, but you cannot deceive me."
"Your gaze, your habits, your way of handling things... are subtly different from the Phainon I knew before."
"You are not the Phainon I know."
Her voice suddenly turned cold.
"So... who exactly are you?"
The moment her words fell!
Buzz—!
In the air, countless fine golden threads appeared out of nowhere.
They surged like a living tide from all directions, binding Phainon tightly, locking every inch of his bones!
Aglaea took a step forward, her presence like a toppling mountain.
"Tell me, where is the true Deliverer?!
"
Bound by the golden threads, the confusion and bewilderment on Phainon's face slowly faded.
In their place was a faint, serene smile.
"As expected of Aglaea, nothing can hide beneath the golden threads."
He didn't want to act anymore.
"But the truth is—I am Phainon."
The next moment, he gently shook his arms.
Bang—
The golden threads wrapped around him shattered with a crisp sound, turning into a sky full of golden light particles that slowly dissipated!
He walked towards her, step by step, unhurriedly.
"This incarnation of Phainon is in a very safe place."
"I suppose no matter how much I explain, it's useless, but..."
As he spoke, he took out an exquisite sachet from his pocket and handed it over.
"Someone asked me to give this to you."
Aglaea's gaze fell on the sachet.
In an instant, her entire being froze.
Her breathing suddenly stopped, and her outstretched hand even trembled uncontrollably.
The familiar stitching, the familiar pattern... "Cifera...?"