"Fla Reaver!"
The mont Cipher saw that silently standing figure in black robes, her body tensed like a drawn bowstring, instinctively dropping into a combat stance. Her eyes were filled with wariness and hostility.
The mory of this guy snatching the Corefla right in front of her was still fresh.
Aglaea took a step forward, shielding Cipher behind her. Her voice remained lodious, yet it carried an unshakable authority and an icy pressure:
"You have repeatedly seized Coreflas by force. Whatever purpose you hide behind, now is the ti to return them." The words were a warning, and also a threat.
"..."
Khaslana remained utterly indifferent to Aglaea’s accusation. The cold tal mask concealed all emotion, revealing nothing. He did not justify himself, rely raising the worn sword in his hand calmly—the blade burning with black and red embers.
The sword’s tip pointed directly at Phainon, who stood among the group.
His posture declared that, of all the Chrysos Heirs present, only Phainon was worthy of his blade.
The next mont, he moved!
From the void, several doppelgangers ford from shattered vessels and destructive energy abruptly materialized!
Their forms were twisted, silent, yet carried undisguised killing intent. They respectively attacked Mydei, Cipher, Aglaea, Terravox, and the others—everyone except Phainon.
Khaslana’s true body, anwhile, took a single step forward. As his foot landed, it seed as if all the light in the world was devoured by the worn sword in his hand.
He used no flashy techniques. With simple, yet suprely swift motion, he brought the worn blade down in a vertical slash aid at Phainon’s head!
A black-red thread, condensed to its utmost limit, seed to slice through space itself!
*Clang——!!!*
A deafening crash of tal on tal exploded! At the critical mont, Phainon crossed his sword to block, bringing his own "Dawnmaker" up to clash violently against the worn sword!
The imnse force transmitted through the blade numbed his hand, making the bones in his arm groan. The ground beneath his feet instantly cracked and sank.
It was almost purely by survival instinct that he managed to barely parry this seemingly plain blow, which in truth contained the power to shatter mountains.
"Fla Reaver! You seize Coreflas, attack Chrysos Heirs—what is your purpose?!" Phainon growled through gritted teeth, forcing the question out. Then, with a sudden burst of strength, he roared and pushed the descending worn sword back slightly.
In the next instant, instead of retreating, he advanced, taking the initiative! "Dawnmaker" traced a cold arc, slashing back towards Khaslana!
Facing Phainon’s counter, Khaslana rely shifted his worn sword slightly, effortlessly blocking "Dawnmaker’s" edge.
Where the two swords t, a shower of blinding sparks flew. Through the leaping flas, the gaze hidden behind his mask seed to pierce through everything, reaching straight into Phainon’s soul:
"Tell , Phainon of Aedes Elysiae! To illuminate the so-called new world, do you possess the resolve to beco the blazing sun that incinerates all—even if the flas of that sun ultimately consu everything in the world, both what you hate and what you cherish?"
The question struck Phainon’s heart like a hamr. But he did not hesitate. His eyes burned with unwavering conviction, and he pressed "Dawnmaker" down with effort, even though the hand wielding the opposing blade stood as immovable as a mountain.
"If this sunken, dark apocalypse must be illuminated! If this is the only path!" Phainon’s voice was unequivocal, carrying a resolve that would not look back. "Then I am willing to be that rising sun, to dispel all gloom!"
"Is that so..." Khaslana seed to murmur. Then, the hand holding his sword casually trembled slightly—
*Whoom!*
An irresistible, colossal force surged along the blade like a tsunami. Phainon felt his entire arm instantly go numb. "Dawnmaker" nearly flew from his grasp, and his whole body uncontrollably staggered backward, looking utterly disheveled.
"Phainon!"
At that mont, Aglaea’s clear cry rang out. Countless golden threads of "Romance" materialized around Khaslana like an inescapable net, winding around his limbs and torso, attempting to bind him fast.
Simultaneously, the authority of "Death" River of Souls summoned by Castorice silently spread to the area beneath Khaslana’s feet. Countless purple-black hands, condensed from resentnt and deathly stillness, burst from the river and seized his legs, dragging him downward!
"Lord Phainon, now!" On the other side, Mydei punched the last fragnted doppelganger into shards. Though Cipher, Hysilens, and others were still not free from their own engagents, they had used their power to create the perfect opportunity for Phainon!
Phainon’s eyes focused, suppressing his churning energy and blood. Gripping "Dawnmaker" with both hands, he charged forward again like lightning!
However, he did not thrust the sword directly at the enemy’s vital point. Instead, with a sudden flick of his wrist, he aid straight for—
*Clang!*
A light sound. The cold tal mask covering the Fla Reaver’s face was precisely flicked off by "Dawnmaker’s" tip, spinning away to land aside.
The face beneath the mask was exposed, without any concealnt, to Phainon—and to all the Chrysos Heirs witnessing this scene.
At that mont, ti itself seed to freeze.
Phainon’s pupils violently contracted. Every single one of his movents halted in that instant.
He stared fixedly at that face. His mind went blank, as if struck by lightning.
That face... although covered in fine cracks, like porcelain on the verge of shattering, and exuding an eerie, inhuman stillness...
But the contours of that face, the eyes and brows, the nose and bridge... he recognized it in an instant. It was himself.
"How... how can this be..." Phainon’s voice was hoarse and dry, filled with incredulous horror and confusion. The hand holding "Dawnmaker" began to tremble uncontrollably. *He himself was the Fla Reaver who had repeatedly attacked his comrades?*
"Ah..."
A long, complicated sigh sounded without warning over the battlefield. This voice carried endless vicissitudes, weariness, and a hint of deeply buried pain.
"It seems I must tell you the truth."
Accompanied by this sigh, a figure Phainon most wished to see, yet most feared to see at this mont, quietly appeared before all the Chrysos Heirs.
Phainon stiffly turned his neck. He looked at this "Fla Reaver" before him, almost identical to himself, his face covered in cracks. Then he looked at the newly appeared figure—the one who made his soul ache with longing and heartbreak.
His throat felt as if sothing were tightly constricted, and even his voice beca hoarse and faint.
"Cyrene...?"
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