"But you shouldn’t... abandon it!" Hyacinthia bravely took a step forward, her voice urgent and pleading. "No matter how tiny, it is still the light that belongs to ’you’!"
"I never abandoned it." Phaethon’s voice carried a trace of sothing almost imperceptible for the first ti... perhaps exhaustion, or perhaps sothing else. "It’s just... the past of every person, the regrets of every departed soul, the wishes of every living being... I need to... rember them all. I need to... carry them with ... and continue."
His gaze fell upon Hyacinthia’s eyes, which, having glimpsed too many truths, had lost their starry sparkle, leaving only a vast, empty azure.
"Do not use the Authority of the Sky to connect with my heart anymore." He warned imdiately, his voice low. "There... lies the abyss."
Yet, Hyacinthia shook her head. Her resolve was firm.
"Hollow continuation cannot save anyone... It ultimately leads only to another form of death. However," her eyes shone with unwavering determination, "I still believe you will not drag this world into utter darkness."
"Because within your heart, though frozen, though filled with the voices of countless others, grown so terribly cold... I can sense that in its deepest depths, there still remains a spark nad ’gentleness,’ burning faintly."
She took a deep breath. Warm, resplendent iridescent light began to flow around her—the healing, connecting power belonging to the Sky Demigod.
"I, the Eye of Twilight, Hyacinthia, though not powerful enough to command winds and rains, to reshape heaven and earth... I can use these eyes, this warm iridescent light, to bring color—color it has never seen—to that undying fla in your heart! And to bring a rose-hued dawn to Amphoreus!"
She chose to resist, not for power or life, but to fulfill her healer’s oath, to cure this seemingly powerful yet inwardly shattered "patient" before her.
Until her "treatnt" was complete, she would not lightly hand over the Corefla to join that cold cycle of "continuation."
"Even if the colors in your heart have faded to a turbid grey, I can still touch a lingering warmth therein..."
Hyacinthia’s voice was ethereal yet resolute. She completely released the restrictions on the Sky Corefla. Vast, azure power of the firmant began to surge around her, iridescent light weaving as she attempted to deeply fuse with the Corefla, to unleash the demigod’s most complete form—
"Deliverer... please, open your heart to ."
However, before that fusing brilliance could reach its peak, Phaethon had already raised his hand.
Countless cold "0"s and "1"s erged from the void, like living chains, instantly coiling around Hyacinthia’s limbs and torso. Not only did they restrict her movent, they forcibly severed her attempt at deeper resonance with the Corefla.
"This is futile." Phaethon’s voice remained steady, yet carried a kind of absolute, despair-inducing certainty. "Even though you have preliminarily fused with the Sky Corefla, with the Authority bestowed upon by Amphoreus, I can directly bypass the fusion process and harmlessly... strip away the Sky permissions."
He extended his palm, aiming at the leaping azure fla over Hyacinthia’s chest.
Simultaneously, a prompt only he could perceive echoed in the depths of his consciousness:
[Sky Permission Node Located.]
[Executing Uninstallation Protocol...]
[Repackaging Corresponding Permission Vessel for Transfer to Designated Secure Coordinates.]
The power of rules began to operate. The iridescent light around Hyacinthia flickered erratically.
Yet, at the very mont the stripping protocol initiated, Hyacinthia let out a short, heavily suppressed grunt of pain.
Phaethon’s actions halted abruptly. The nearly completed stripping process was forcibly suspended by him.
"Demigod," his voice held the faintest trace of emotional fluctuation for the first ti, "theoretically... you should not feel any pain."
Despite his absolute confidence in his own Authority, that sliver of uncertainty, that fear of unforeseen consequences, appeared like a fine crack on his frozen ntal state—he was afraid Hyacinthia might suffer pain beyond his calculations.
To his surprise, Hyacinthia, bound by the data shackles, showed no sign of agony. Instead, she let out a low, soft laugh, filled with understanding and a hint of cleverness.
"Making the patient... personally realize their illness still has room for redy is the first step toward successful treatnt."
She raised her head, her gaze penetrating the shackles, warmly resting on Phaethon. "You see... the ’gentleness’ in your heart, it still exists. It’s just buried too deep, needing to be carefully awakened, patiently nurtured."
Her voice grew even softer, carrying a sincere plea: "Could you... talk with ? Talk about your na, your past... even just a little bit. After we talk, the Sky Corefla... I will hand it over willingly, without a single regret. How about that trade?"
"..."
A long silence perated the twilight.
Finally, Phaethon let out an almost inaudible sigh.
"My na is... Asterion." He spoke slowly, uttering this na that carried far too much weight. "You may also call ... Phaethon."
"Alright then, Phaethy." Hyacinthia’s address instantly beca affectionate and natural. Her eyes regained that light Phaethon had grown so familiar with over twenty million cycles—resilient, gentle, passionate, yet bearing the sharpness unique to a healer. "Now, can you tell ? Why are you so determined on stopping the Chrysos Heirs from absorbing the Coreflas? What exactly is hidden behind that ’continuation’?"
...
In the ti that followed, Phaethon, in a calm tone, briefly outlined the despair of tens of millions of cycles, and the "Continuation" plan he and Phainon had devised—a construct of lies and deception.
Hyacinthia listened quietly, without interruption, until Phaethon’s voice faded.
"So that’s how it is... Phaethy." She said softly, her eyes filled with understanding, yet not agreent. "Every person has the possibility and the right to continue, but you shouldn’t... demand that everyone must continue solely along the one path you’ve set."
She took a step forward. Though still restrained by the data shackles, her gaze seed able to directly touch Phaethon’s soul.
"Your plan might indeed allow Amohoreus’s ’existence’ to continue, like a specin ticulously preserved in amber."
"But Phaethy, if you stubbornly force all life to remain in the state of a ’seed,’ then... when will new life ever sprout?"
Her voice carried a piercing compassion as she asked the most crucial question:
"Phaethy, is this outco of re ’continuation’... truly what ’Cyrie’ wishes to see?"
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