After passing through Trianne’s Infinity Gate.
The group set foot on a desolate stretch of land. Before them lay the once-powerful forr capital of Castrum Kremnos.
However, the towering city walls that once symbolized martial prowess and glory were now overgrown with ominous black moss.
Many of the city’s spires had already collapsed, shattered stone blocks littered the ground, and the air hung heavy with a stifling odor mixing rust, ash, and the decay of sothing unidentifiable.
"Castrum Kremnos..." Mydei murmured the na, his voice saturated with complex, unspeakable emotion.
He surveyed this holand that was both familiar and strange, his eyes holding both reminiscence and profound lancholy. "To think it would fall into such ruin after our people’s migration..."
"Speaking of which," Phainon walked to his side, his gaze also sweeping over the ruins, "I don’t think I’ve ever heard you explain in detail why your people resolutely abandoned this mighty city built over countless generations back then."
Mydei fell silent for a mont, as if dredging up those sealed mories from the depths of his mind.
After a long while, he finally spoke, his voice carrying a hint of hoarseness. "Because... the god our clan worshipped, Nikador, in its final monts, bestowed upon the Kremnos clan one final prophecy."
"Prophecy?" Phainon’s brow raised slightly, seeming sowhat surprised. "A Titan holding the authority of Strife would leave guidance for its own people?"
"Perhaps the word ’prophecy’ isn’t entirely accurate." Mydei shook his head. "It was more like a... directive."
"As you all know, among all the Titans, Nikador was one of the earlier ones to make direct contact with and erupt into conflict with the Black Tide."
"But after it began devoting the vast majority of its will and power to the war against the Black Tide, its responses to the Kremnos clan grew increasingly sparse, until it fell nearly silent."
"And precisely because of this," Mydei’s voice lowered, "my father at the ti, the Kremnos King known for his iron fist and decisiveness, made a judgnt that later proved to be a mistake."
"He firmly believed that Nikador was not fighting the Black Tide, but had fallen into so deep, self-induced ’slumber’ from which it could not awaken."
"In that era when the Black Tide first manifested on land and the entire world was plunged into panic and chaos, how could the Kremnos people afford to lose the spiritual pillar they depended on for survival—their own deity?"
Mydei took a deep breath and continued. "So, under the instigation and assistance of several foreign priests of unknown origin, my father made a bold decision—he planned to forcibly split Nikador’s soul into five fragnts and forge an immortal vessel for each fragnt."
"They believed that through this thod, they could not only ’awaken’ the deity but grant the god-king near-eternal life and power. Then, the Kremnos clan, having integrated all this power, would follow the reborn Nikador and launch an assault on Okhema..."
Mydei’s words carried a heaviness he couldn’t conceal. After all, employing such thods against one’s own worshipped deity, regardless of the reason, was hardly a glorious act.
Even though the "Fla Chase Journey" he now participated in wasn’t exactly overflowing with reverence for the Titans either.
"Assault Okhema?" Phainon’s surprise was palpable. "Why? While the Kremnos and Okhema weren’t allies, they weren’t sworn enemies either."
"You understand that the ’Black Tide’ has two main manifestations," Mydei explained, his tone regaining calmness.
"The first is Black Tide creations. While a threat, they can still be purged through force, through the ans of ’Strife.’ But the second... the Black Tide itself... that pervasive, all-corrosive dark essence... Throughout all of Amphoreus, there is only one thod to truly resist it..."
Phainon’s pupils contracted slightly, and he softly finished the sentence. "... the Dawn Device left by the Worldbearing Titan Kephale."
"Correct." Mydei confird. "Faced with the relentlessly advancing Black Tide, the Kremnos clan of that ti had only two paths to survival before them."
"The first: Use force to annex Okhema, seize control of the Dawn Device, and allow my people to take refuge under the shelter of that eternal light. The second: Set aside our pride, form an alliance with Okhema, and share the radiance of the Dawn Device."
Stelle, listening to this sealed-away history, couldn’t help but ask, "So, your father at that ti... chose the first path?"
Mydei nodded helplessly, a trace of bitterness flashing across his face. "Yes. He chose the path that seed to offer complete control over their own fate but was, in reality, more radical and dangerous."
His gaze once again turned towards the deep darkness within Castrum Kremnos, his eyes becoming incomparably complex, mixing guilt, relief, and a hint of indescribable admiration.
"However, just before that blasphemous soul-separation ritual was about to begin, the long-silent Nikador... awakened."
Mydei paused, as if he could cross ti and space to feel that decisive mont.
"With its last shred of lucid will, it forcibly halted the ritual and delivered its final prophecy to all Kremnoan: ’Leave this place. Go to Okhema. Forge an alliance with them. Combine the martial strength of Kremnos with the radiance of Okhema to resist the Black Tide together. And I... shall remain here... and fight for you... until the very end.’"
"It chose the second path..." Phainon murmured, his voice filled with awe.
"Yes." Mydei’s voice carried a barely perceptible tremor. "It chose to sacrifice itself, to trade its existence for a chance for my people to unite with other powers, rather than conquer them."
"It remained alone in this city destined to be utterly subrged by the Black Tide, using itself as a barrier to buy us ti to evacuate and seek an alliance."
He looked at Phainon and Stelle, his tone carrying a trace of belated relief. "Thinking about it now, you should perhaps be grateful. If that mad ritual had actually been completed back then, what we would face today likely wouldn’t be a Titan driven to madness, but a split, desecrated, undying, and grudge-filled... monster."
"Enough," rumbled Terravox, who had been silently sensing their surroundings until now. His mountainous fra turned towards the direction of the city center, his massive hand pointing towards that deepest darkness.
"Let the dirge of the past rest here for now. I can clearly feel it... deep within the city, a voice is calling to ... Its voice is brimming with savagery and madness, its soul burns in endless agony, but it also... craves a true battle, yearns for a... final release."
"Lady Trianne," Terravox’s voice, low like grinding stone, sounded again. His enormous form shifted slightly towards the small guide. "The path ahead will be paved with battle and danger. You should remain here. Find a secure place to conceal yourself and quietly await our triumphant return."
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