As soon as Phaethon finished speaking, a figure in a research robe, whose presence felt unusually steady, appeared at the entrance.
"Teacher Anaxagoras, you’ve co." Phaethon looked at the figure below, whose expression was grave but whose single eye burned with the fire of wisdom. "What were the results of your cyclical proof?"
Anaxa—steadily ascending the platform, his aura more settled than ever before, his single eye sparkling with intellect yet tinged with the weariness and relief of having solved an ultimate mystery. "Phaethon, the intelligence Castorice provided, verified through my multiple proofs and observations of Kephale’s divine body, can be confird as true. The re-creation of Amphoreus is indeed a brutally repeating cycle. I have also completed the final trial set by Cerces and am ready to submit the ’Reason’ Corefla, returning it to this place at any ti."
"Is that so? Understanding it clearly is good." Phaethon nodded, but then he dropped a bombshell heavy enough to overturn everyone’s understanding. "But what if I said the truth behind Amphoreus’s cycle of re-creation is far more complex and darker than the ’simple cycle’ you proved? That all of us, including Titans and Chrysos Heirs across generations, may have never truly understood the rules of this... ’ga’?"
"What do you an?!" Anaxa’s brow instantly furrowed tightly.
Even Cipher beside him, keenly sensing the gravity of the topic, put away her playful expression and watched him warily.
"It’s a long story," Phaethon didn’t explain imdiately but instead made a welcoming gesture. "Teacher, please complete the final ritual first, submit the ’Reason’ Corefla. And then... I’ll slowly explain to you the details of this grand ga spanning more than just one cycle..."
...
anwhile, within a certain space known as the Spectator’s Gallery.
Lygus was calmly flipping through the endless streams of information flowing through the system backend, a contemptuous sneer seeming to curl the corner of the chanized mouth. "That utterly shady Asterion actually blocked my observation permissions for him? Hah, at a ti like this, he’s still thinking about such things?" He spoke softly as if appreciating a poorly perford play. "Muttering sothing about ’finally having ti to settle the score with that little cat girl.’ Then, like a guilty thief, he uses the authority of the ’Ultimate Protocol’ to temporarily block my tracking observation channel? Hah... truly laughable."
Lygus shook his head. "Mortals are ultimately mortals. No matter what power they obtain, they cannot escape those pitiful desires and impulses." But a thought imdiately surfaced. "Can I take this chance to bypass the block and secretly return inside Amphoreus?" Yet he quickly dismissed this tempting idea himself. "No, no, no, the risk is too great. Asterion’s location is still uncertain. If I bump into him now..." But Lygus’s smile soon regained its composure and coldness, carrying a sense of superiority from manipulating everything. "It’s fine. Ti will always be on my side. I have plenty of patience to wait."
*(Phaethon: Still laughing? I’m coming to deal with you.)*
His gaze turned to the part of the information stream representing the Black Tide, where intense data restructuring and strength enhancent were underway. "Just wait. The ’patch’ I personally applied to the Black Tide is almost complete. Castrum Kremnos, and you, Phaethon... your insignificant efforts ultimately won’t hinder it for much longer. The process of Re-creation is unstoppable."
...
The Vortex of Genesis.
Anaxa had already completed the ritual to submit the ’Reason’ Corefla.
After hearing Phaethon’s further explanation, his expression turned incomparably grave. "Phaethon, if what you say is true, just the number of Philosopher’s Stones alone is a huge problem! We simply cannot..."
Before his words finished, his eyes suddenly widened in shock.
Without changing his expression, Phaethon, as if performing magic, pulled out one, two, three... dozens of Philosopher’s Stones emitting pure, dazzling red light, one after another like pulling out candies.
The vast, pure energy fluctuations illuminated the entire Vortex of Genesis platform, also casting a red glow on the utterly shocked faces of Anaxa and Cipher.
"No... impossible?! Phaethon! You! Where did you get so many Philosopher’s Stones?!" Anaxa’s remaining single eye was as wide as a bell, his breathing almost halting! This completely defied all known laws of alchemy he was aware of!
Phaethon glanced lightly at the folder nad "Cerces" quietly lying in his mind, a faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
"Legend says a practitioner must pay the price of their own heart to forge a single immortal Philosopher’s Stone." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the two shocked individuals before him. His tone, though calm, carried an absolutely confident edge that was startling. "Coincidentally, my ability has never required paying any costly price."
"So? Teacher Anaxagoras, is the quantity sufficient now?"
Anaxa stared dumbfounded at the Philosopher’s Stones in Phaethon’s hand, then at Phaethon’s calm yet unfathomably deep eyes.
After a long while, the shock on his face slowly faded, replaced by a smile mixed with fervor and excitent that gradually crept onto his lips. He began to chuckle softly, the laughter growing louder until it beca a declaration full of ambition echoing through the Vortex of Genesis:
"Hahahahaha! Of course! My student... has ticulously prepared such a magnificent stage for , even providing ’props’ I wouldn’t dare imagine..."
"How could I, your teacher, possibly dare not step onto this stage and perform?!"
...
Not long after the ’Death’ and ’Reason’ Coreflas were both returned.
The Castrum Kremnos front line was enveloped in an unprecedented, dead silence.
At this mont, there were no deafening roars, no tide of twisted creations surging forward.
Yet, this silence was more suffocating than any violent assault.
Phaethon, Phainon, and Mydei stood silently on the battle-scarred city walls, their gazes heavy as they looked into the distance.
There, the Black Tide was no longer advancing in the form of monster armies. In its place was a more fundantal, more despair-inducing erosion—the very land itself was being consud.
Thick, light-absorbing darkness writhed slowly like a living entity. Where it passed, whether scorched earth, rock, or traces of past battles, everything was silently engulfed, dissolved, becoming part of the void.
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