"I understand, my teacher. Thank you and Lord Mydei for the news."
Her voice had regained its steadiness, yet it still carried a trace of imperceptible hoarseness. "Now... is truly not the time for sorrow."
Her gaze turned to Phainon and Cyrene, her tone exceedingly solemn:
"Phainon, Cyrene. The Coreflames of 'Worldbearing' and 'Time' are entrusted to you. These last two Coreflames are of paramount importance."
She glanced at the soldiers around her, who were grieving but still holding their posts, and then at Mydei and Anaxa beside her, before continuing:
"The Sacred City now has four demigods holding the fort: Mydei of 'Strife,' the 'Reason'... Anaxagoras, 'Romance' me, and Tribbie who wields the 'Passage'!
You need not worry about Okhema's safety. Just take Kephale's Coreflame to Oronyx as quickly as possible. He... will understand what must be done."
"What about... Phaethon..." Phainon and Cyrene simultaneously looked towards Phaethon, who had been unusually silent since returning to the Sacred City, their eyes questioning. Their original plan wasn't meant to be this urgent.
Phaethon raised his head. His gaze swept over the fearful yet steadfast people in the plaza, the battered allied warriors, and finally settled on the invisible but turbulent Black Tide surging in the distance.
He waved his hand dismissively, his tone sounding quite lighthearted yet carrying an indisputable resolve: "Cyrene, Phainon, you go on ahead. I won't be accompanying you."
He paused, his voice lowering a notch. "Here... the Sacred City, needs me.
Someone has to stay behind, to buy you the final moments, and for them... to defend this last homeland."
Phainon looked deeply at his brother. He seemed to want to say something, but in the end, he only gave a heavy nod. "Then... very well. Phaethon, take care."
Cyrene's eyes were filled with concern, her blue pupils fixed on Phaethon. For a moment, she couldn't find anything of her own to give him.
Finally, Cyrene could only take the exquisite hair ornament from her head and press it into Phaethon's hand. A thousand words came to her lips, but ultimately condensed into just one sentence:
"You must be careful, Phaethon... Wait for us to return."
...
Outside Okhema, before the Infinity Gate to Janusopolis that Phaethon had personally established, the air was so thick with tension it seemed it could drip.
Cyrene took one last look back towards Okhema, her gaze as if able to see the fierce battles raging within and the boundless dark tide outside the city walls.
She whispered softly, a trace of hard-to-dispel melancholy in her voice: "The Black Tide... has finally swept over the entire world."
"Mhm." Phainon responded in a low voice. He surveyed the surroundings, his tone grave yet clear as he analyzed the situation:
"In the west, Mydei himself is leading the remnants of the Castrum Kremnos detachment. They are the most experienced, their wills forged of iron. They likely won't fall for a while."
"In the north, Teacher Anaxa has led the scholars and guards of The Grove of Epiphany there. They might be able to construct a defense line using their wisdom and ancient arts."
"In the south, the majority of Okhema's citizens, under the personal organization and leadership of Lady Aglaea, are using their very flesh and blood to desperately hold back the southern front of the Black Tide."
"And in the east..." Phainon's voice halted; the energy fluctuations from that direction were the most intense.
"Phaethon and Teacher Tribbie are leading the most elite warriors of Janusopolis, engaged in the most brutal battle there against the main force of the Black Tide."
Phainon's tone became a bit more forceful as he listed the reasons for hope: "Add to that Hyacine has smoothly and successfully assumed the divine authority of 'Sky.' At this moment, Okhema is protected by a full five demigods!
And we..." He looked at Cyrene, "only need to accomplish the great work of re-creation before the next dawn arrives."
He reached out, gently placing a hand on Cyrene's shoulder, trying to convey some confidence. "There won't be any accidents, Cyrene. Trust me, and trust everyone.
Even if what lies ahead seems like an endless long night, I firmly believe that at the end of that darkness, the direction must be that of dawn.
And at the endpoint where all flames illuminate... is the new, blazing sun that is destined to rise."
"Mhm..." Cyrene nodded vigorously, suppressing the worry in her eyes. "Amphoreus's future, and Phaethon's future... must... must be filled with hope..."
"So, let's go." Phainon withdrew his hand, looking towards the Infinity Gate before them.
"To the Temple of Three Fate! For you, Cyrene, to personally take up the authority of 'Time'!
Then, let all the Coreflames return to the Vortex of Genesis, to draw the final note for this world's long and painful destiny."
His voice was like a vow, carrying an unyielding resolve that would brook no turning back:
"Afterwards... let all of us together prepare for the demise of the old world. Or... join hands to embark on that great journey toward rebirth."
He took a step forward, entering the shimmering, flowing portal.
Cyrene took one last look at Okhema, shrouded in warfare and darkness, took a deep breath, and followed closely behind.
...
Before the Temple of Three Fate, time itself seemed to have solidified here.
"I offer my apologies for disturbing your eternal slumber, Oronyx."
Cyrene bowed respectfully towards the massive, silent, as if carved from time itself Titan of 'Time' silhouetted against the horizon.
"The Black Tide has almost devoured the entire world. The remaining pure land on Amphoreus is scarce. The moment for re-creation... has arrived." Phainon concisely stated their purpose.
The ancient Titan seemed to stir slightly, ripples flowing through the temporal force surrounding it.
An aged, serene, as if containing all the ages voice slowly resonated:
"It is of no consequence. I understand. The fate of this world... has reached its destined end. I shall, as promised, present the Coreflame of 'Time'..."
However, the instant Oronyx's words fell, His voice abruptly underwent a drastic change!
The serenity was replaced by an inhuman coldness. His following words, carrying a strand of soul-freezing, boundless icy chill, thundered down—
"But before that, I shall leave you with one final... 'Prophecy' from the Sky Father—"
『You shall witness the end of all ages, before thirty million tombstones, and expound the true meaning of life's flight.』
This prophecy struck their consciousnesses like a cold brand.
As the words ended, a portal emanating vast temporal energy quietly appeared before them.
Behind the door was the familiar Vortex of Genesis.
Simultaneously, a crystal emitting a soft halo, within which galaxies seemed to be born and die—the Coreflame of 'Time'—gently floated down before Cyrene.
But that cold, bizarre prophecy, still echoed in their minds.
"Sky Father? What is that? The final 'Prophecy'? And that feeling just now... that almost froze our very souls..."
Phainon whipped his head toward Cyrene, who understood Oronyx better, his brows furrowed tightly, hoping to glean some explanation from her.