"Ha... haha, Phaethon... let me explain, I mean, let me clarify!" Cyrene was sweating profusely, her pink strands sticking to her smooth forehead, her eyes darting around nervously. "You said you only wanted the final moment..."
"You worked hard, Cyrene." Contrary to Cyrene's expectations, Phaethon didn't complain or show disappointment. Instead, looking at her flustered and guilty state, he let out a soft, genuine laugh. The smile held no trace of blame, only pure... understanding? Even a bit of... happiness? "What would you like for dinner? I'll cook something nice to help you recover."
"Next time I won't... Huh?" Cyrene had already mentally prepared for Phaethon's anger and her subsequent tragic fate of chewing dry bread for days. She was completely stunned now, her mouth slightly agape. "Phaethon, you... you're not mad?" she asked tentatively, her sky-blue eyes full of disbelief.
"Mad about what?" Phaethon shrugged, walking over naturally to smooth her slightly disheveled hair at the temples. "Being able to successfully 'see' the final moments of a legendary guard captain, even for just an instant, is enough. And," the corner of his mouth curled into a mysterious arc, "the effect was outstanding."
Just now, in that fleeting moment when Octavius's phantom vanished with a *crick*, the prompt from the Golden Finger in Phaethon's mind, though still rigid, was followed by browsing the skill list in the folder. Just glancing at the entries made it clear how absurd this "strongest human" was. Over two hundred skills, without repetition! Although it included some useless abilities like "Gardening Proficiency" and "Mastery of Priestess Ritual Procedures."
[Folder 'Octavius' named successfully! File archived! Abilities are now usable.]
Hmm... the first one... Oath of Radiance? Phaethon raised an eyebrow. Looks like a support-type skill. Let me try it... Wait, it needs a weapon? Fine, I'll use a chopstick.
Intricate runes appeared on the chopstick. Following that, a holy aura emanated...
But just as Phaethon was about to test it, halfway through consulting the spiritual imprint, his left hand instinctively slammed his right hand, holding the chopstick, back onto the table.
Phaethon: !!!
What the heck? That image flashing through his mind of a sword strike that devastated dozens of city blocks and annihilated nearly ten kilometers ahead was called "Oath of Radiance"? You've got to be kidding me? Shouldn't this be called EX—— freaking caliber???
JACKPOT! Aside from those few demigods, ordinary Golden Descendants are no match for me now!
(Phantylia: Hello there. ₍˄·͈༝·˄*₎◞ ̑̑
Don't laugh. If you meet me, you'll still die when it's time to die.)
"Huh? Cyrene, why are you hugging my leg?" Coming back to his senses, Phaethon realized there was now an attachment on his leg.
"Phaethon... did you just use a chopstick to perform the Guard Captain's... signature technique?" Cyrene swallowed hard, asking tremulously. "The one known as the 'Burn Away Balance Coin- Sword Strike'? L-listen, little Phaethon, think of our restaurant... You wouldn't want these three months of hard work to go to waste, right?"
"Uh, Cyrene... that was just an accident."
"That's good then. My legs feel weak, Phaethon, help me up."
In the bathroom, Phaethon looked at his reflection in the mirror.
"Now this looks more like a transmigrator."
"Transmigrated into Star Rail, and my Excalibur can fire infinitely?"
"Hmm~ though that bit of ahoge is a bit distracting."
...
"Miss Cyrene? Is Miss Cyrene here? I am Elliott Warren, Intermediate Priest of the Sanctuary!" A young man's voice came from outside the courtyard, filled with obvious nervousness and... a certain fervor.
Phaethon and Cyrene exchanged a glance, both seeing confusion in the other's eyes. Someone from the Sanctuary? An Intermediate Priest? Looking for Cyrene?
Cyrene straightened her priestess robes, slightly ruffled from her earlier spellcasting, regaining some of the dignified composure of a Sanctuary priestess, and went to open the door.
Outside stood a young man wearing a brand new intermediate priest's white robe.
He looked to be in his early twenties, with brown hair meticulously groomed, his features quite handsome, though his cheeks were flushed with an unnatural redness. In his hands, he held a large bouquet of... exquisite, extremely expensive "Dawn Roses," dew still clinging to the petals. In a place like Janusopolis, the value of this bouquet could easily match the small restaurant's revenue for nearly half a month.
"M-Miss Cyrene!" Seeing Cyrene behind the door, Elliott's eyes instantly lit up remarkably. He took a deep breath, as mustering all the courage in his life, and thrust the bouquet towards Cyrene. His voice trembled slightly with excitement:
"P-please forgive my presumption! Ever since I caught a glimpse of you in the Sanctuary cloister three days ago, your beautiful image has been deeply engraved in my heart! Your wisdom, your elegance, your pure, fairy-like aura... have kept me awake all night! I stake everything as a man! P-please give me a chance! Accept my admiration!"
Cyrene: 0_O?
Phaethon: (ꐦÒ‸Ó)!!!
Phaethon leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching the scene with great interest. This Priest Elliott's robes were excessively new, without a single wrinkle, clearly newly promoted.
Recalling the "clearly priced" promotion system of a certain high priest within the Sanctuary... the curve of Phaethon's lips deepened. It seemed this "manly man" had quite a substantial family fortune. But this was no ordinary priest anymore. He had to come down hard!
Cyrene was clearly bewildered by this sudden, blunt confession. She subconsciously took half a step back.
Suddenly, Phaethon's gaze sharpened, the aura around him drastically changing! He took a fierce step forward. His previously well-fitting clothes suddenly outlined muscle lines taut like sculpture! Sharp, angular shadows instantly spread across his face!
"As expected, real men are drawn to each other!" His deep, magnetic voice exploded in the frozen air, each word carrying the weight of gold.
(Golden Finger: Hey, hey, hey! Why has this guy's style changed back into this sharply defined, muscle-shadow-filled comic book look?! And where did this strange background sound effect come from?! The air's gotten heavy too!)
Elliott: 0_O?
Cyrene: 0_O?
Onlookers: 0_O?
But just as Phaethon's fist, the size of a sandbag, was about to unleash an ORA ORA, Elliott's eyes instantly cleared.
"Stop, stop, stop! Sorry for the intrusion! I thought Miss Cyrene didn't have a partner." Elliott bowed at a perfect 90-degree angle, his attitude sincere.
"We're not partners. She's my sister now."
"Ah? So that means... Stop, stop, stop, stop! My mistake! I was wrong!"
Just when everyone thought the drama was over, a figure suddenly squeezed into the battlefield.
It was a girl with cascading purple hair. Her skin was pale as snow, her large eyes like deep lakes, revealing intelligence and liveliness. Her smile was bright and cheerful, like the warmest sunlight in spring.
Her gaze fell directly on Cyrene, a sly glint of laughter flashing in her eyes.
"I knew it, Cyrene, you'd definitely reject that fool. That mutt who only knows how to get promoted with wealth, how could he possibly deserve someone like you?" The girl's voice was clear and pleasant, like the warmest sunshine in spring.
She floated lightly up to Cyrene, tilted her head up slightly, and revealed a sweet smile, "I'm Evelyn! I got promoted to Intermediate Priestess of the Sanctuary through my own real ability! So... Cyrene, you should still be with me!"
Phaethon: Σ(￣ロ￣lll)?
Wait... sister... delivering herself to the doorstep?
Cyrene: (✧∇✧)!
(Cyrene: I forgot to turn off the passive skill(˃ ⌑ ˂ഃ ) Another fulfilling day.)
...
Phainon: I wonder how Phaethon is doing over there... Damn, another Black Tide! The future is coming! For tomorrow! Battle ended, character experience +48.
It must be really tough for them... In an unfamiliar place, will they be ostracized?
Will they eat poorly, sleep badly? Have they lost weight?