Phainon-1's voice grew louder, filled with barely suppressed grief and indignation. "Is a hollow city like this... one kept illuminated only by the Dawn Device... the dawn you and your brother once promised us?!"
"When the Chrysos Heirs, like the most ordinary mortals, gradually aged and passed away one after another, Phaethon would at least go to pay his respects, offering final comfort."
"But you?! You didn't even see them one last time! Why... haven't you shed a single tear?!"
"..."
Standing at the highest point of the city wall, Phainon did not turn around, nor did he answer immediately.
His eyes, scorched to a molten gold hue by the power of the Coreflames, still gazed into the distance.
As far as his sight could reach, apart from the fragile white radiance painstakingly upheld by the Dawn Device at Okhema's center, the entire world had completely fallen, transformed into a churning, all-devouring chaotic Black Tide.
Below the walls, countless twisted, roaring shadows converged into a boundless sea of darkness, endlessly assaulting and battering this final bastion of light, emitting terrifying sounds that shook the mind.
"Your silence and indifference are truly chilling," Phainon-1's voice held deeper pain. "To you, were they just... a collection of insignificant numbers and footnotes?"
Finally... Phainon spoke.
"My sorrow has never vanished. On the contrary... the pain and weight brought by the burning of the eleven Titan Coreflames upon this body have made the flame in my heart... more explosive than ever before. And because of this flame, I can no longer express my sorrow through tears."
Phainon-1 stared into Phainon's eyes, which seemed to have lost all their luster, and demanded sharply: "But if delaying this so-called 'recreation' only leads to the complete extinction of the people of Amphoreus, then why not just..."
"You still don't understand the full picture!" Phainon interrupted him calmly.
"You only see that Amphoreus is empty, save for a few of us. But you have no idea that in the previous cycle, none of the Chrysos Heirs you speak of even died of old age..."
"But how can I believe that?! All I can see is that everyone in this entire cycle is trapped within your one-sided story!!!"
Phainon-1 let out a roar of rage; all reason and patience snapped completely at that moment.
He sharply drew Dawnmaker, pointing its tip directly at Phainon. The intense aura even caused the surrounding light to tremble for a moment.
"Draw your sword, Khaslana! I will make you personally understand that your greatest mistake was training me, giving me the power to challenge you!!!"
Before his words fully faded, he had already transformed into a blazing streak of light, carrying the desperate resolve of one who had poured everything into this, and violently charged towards the branding-iron-like figure atop the wall!
***
An unknowable amount of time passed before everything settled.
Upon the city walls, only a single figure remained standing.
Only now did some cold facts, like a belated verdict, clearly surface in the survivor's consciousness:
Why were there no more newborns in Amphoreus? Because the source of life—the Nether Realm—had long been completely devoured and assimilated by the Black Tide.
Why did the Dawn Device still emit light? Because within Okhema, there still existed a will that believed dawn would eventually arrive. Was it Phainon? Or Phaethon? Or perhaps...
As for who exactly killed whom in that duel...
That no longer mattered.
The one who survived, regardless of who he once was, regardless of what name and memories he bore, from this moment on, he was, and could only be—
Khaslana.
He looked at the half of the 「Deliverer」 card in his hand, its edges somewhat charred.
Then, he left.
***
Phaethon sat in the Garden of Life, and beside him was Cyrene, as she had always been.
Phainon walked over.
"Phaethon..." he turned to his brother, his voice calm, yet containing the dead silence before a storm. "The twelve Titan Coreflames... eleven have now been restored."
"I know..." Phaethon replied calmly.
"You must... initiate the next cycle." Phainon's voice continued, betraying no joy or sorrow, merely stating a cruel fact.
"You and I have forcibly extended this world's history for nearly a thousand years beyond its original timeline."
"But the Okhema illuminated by the Dawn Device today... is long since a giant hollow city with no future. The last residents have also vanished one by one with the passage of time."
Phaethon slowly turned his head to look at Phainon. In a flat tone devoid of any fluctuation, he uttered earth-shattering words: "Tell me... does our persistence like this... truly have any meaning? Phainon... '1'."
Phainon-1, standing to the side, jolted violently, his body trembling almost imperceptibly.
He closed his eyes, an expression mixing relief, resignation, and immense sorrow appearing on his face.
"You... when did you know?" His voice was hoarse.
"The moment you completed the transfer of power and memory, I knew."
Phaethon's gaze seemed unfocused, as if he were looking at Phainon-1, or perhaps staring at a folder in his own mind named "Phainon (Status: Damaged, Not Recommended for Access)." He let out a sigh too faint to be heard.
His thoughts drifted back to earlier.
Just a short while ago, the "Golden Finger" had presented him with two cold choices:
One: Completely obtain all of Phainon's power, memories, and Coreflames. Bear everything alone. Two: Use the system to secretly seal away and share a portion of the soul-scorching painful memories Phainon endured from bearing too many Coreflames during that dangerous transfer of power and memory between Phainon and Phainon-1.
He thought for a long, long time. Long enough for the nymphs in the Garden of Life to have rolled the huge stone sphere up the slope and let it fall back down once more.
In the end, he made a selfish choice—he chose the latter.
He couldn't imagine the loneliness of walking this endless path of cycles alone.
He needed his brother, regardless of whether that brother was the original one or not.
Cyrene, who had been standing quietly beside Phaethon and Phainon-1, now gently stepped forward and took Phaethon's cold hand.
Her appearance remained vivid and bright; a thousand years of time had not carved the slightest trace upon her face, as if frozen eternally by some gentle power.
"Actually, everything you did had meaning, little Phaethon." Her voice was gentle yet firm, like a strand of sunlight piercing through the despairing gloom.
"In this cycle, everyone ultimately did not die to the Black Tide of Destruction. They lived out their own lives, long or short but complete, under your protection."
"To them, you are their Savior. ♪"