And when "Phaethon of Aedes Elysiae" stepped into the void, on the verge of once again plumting into that terrifying, existence-devouring pure white blankness—
"Walk forward boldly, Phaethon of Aedes Elysiae!" A voice full of vitality and abandon dispelled the nothingness-born fear.
"Don’t look down! Don’t hesitate! Just running is enough! The path will naturally extend beneath your feet!"
"Cipher..."
Then, a miracle occurred.
Those pure white regions, once utterly empty and symbolizing "forgottenness" and "non-existence," began to manifest light and shadow—scenes, one after another, from the past shared with the Chrysos Heirs:
The smile in Aglaea’s eyes as she wove fine garnts, Anaxa’s serious expression as he tapped the chalkboard in class, Castorice’s poetic verses chanted under the moonlight, Hyacine’s figure recording notes beneath the Grove’s tree trunks, Mydei’s heroic bearing as he charged on the battlefield, Cipher’s freedom as she ran through the city... and countless other familiar faces, countless monts they had experienced together.
None of this belonged to the "mories" of Asterion.
But here, right now, this was all Asterion’s own, unique landscape.
It was the landscape he had truly wished to protect throughout his journey, and which had ultimately shaped him—a landscape painted collectively by countless companions.
"Hesitate no longer, my little Inky."
A voice, clear yet profound as an ocean abyss, whispered softly, like the tide from the depths of mory. It was Hysilens, her voice carrying the embrace of the sea.
"Ride in our wake and advance. If there is any miracle in this universe that can save Amphoreus, that can define the value of life... then that miracle must be the ’Pri Mover of Life’—the one deduced and chosen step by step by life itself in the river of ti. Because—"
"The very birth of life is, in itself, the greatest miracle. Go and prove it. Prove that the aning of this miracle extends far beyond re ’preservation.’"
"Hysilens..." Phaethon of Aedes Elysiae murmured, as if feeling it.
Then, a steady, wise voice rang out—the voice of a ntor:
"Advance, Phaethon of Aedes Elysiae." Teacher Anaxa’s voice carried imnse expectation and entrustnt.
"Go and complete the unfinished Great Work of our Amphoreus! You are not writing the answer alone; you are the tip of the brush, bearing the mories and will of all who truly belong to Amphoreus! Go, and complete the final, greatest demonstration concerning the ’Pri Mover of Life’!"
"Teacher Anaxa..." The weight on his shoulders no longer felt cold.
Next, a magnificent, resounding voice, as if it could echo through every corner of the sea of stars, sounded like a battle horn:
"Advance, Deliverer!" Cerydra’s proclamation carried an epic rhythm.
"The one who can truly answer the question of the ’Pri Mover of Life’ was never the Asterion who sat aloof on the throne, stripped of emotion. It is the Epic of Asterion—the one here, now, bearing the mories, emotions, and choices of all Amphoreus!"
Her voice was like a great bell:
"Rember! Amphoreus began with a question in search of an answer; therefore, its salvation should also be an answer delivered by the entire world together! Let every breeze of Amphoreus, every grain of dust, every soul that has ever wept, laughed, fought, and loved on this land—let them answer that question together!"
"Cerydra..." In the eyes of Phaethon of Aedes Elysiae, the light was fully ignited.
...
In the next recurrences, within the vast sea of mories belonging to Asterion, those shattered fragnts and voids of nothingness might still exist.
They are scars, costs, marks that history cannot erase.
But—
In the next recurrences, when he once again embarks on this path ho, these companions who helped him advance, shining like starlight, will surely appear again.
Their voices will cross the barriers of recurrences, their will shall transform into guiding starlight, and their mories shall pave the road ahead.
Their very existence is the most steadfast response to his path.
Therefore...
This thorn-covered, seemingly solitary path of "salvation," for Asterion and Phaethon of Aedes Elysiae, was never truly solitary.
And every step taken in seeking the answer echoes with the footsteps of life—a part of the Pri Mover of Life has long been written collectively by countless lives.
It is "Us."
Phaethon of Aedes Elysiae is already penning his own story.
And billions of epics are also being written by all living beings.
...
On the battlefield deciding Amphoreus’s fate, the tremor in the conscious space reached its peak.
The figures of Asterion and Cyrene clashed once more beneath the brilliant star river!
For the umpteenth ti, the duo sword and staff against the amber great sword fiercely clashed!
The dark red flas of destruction and the ice-blue flowing light of rembrance collided violently with the amber radiance representing absolute preservation. The erupting energy swept out like a hurricane, densely cracking several of the surrounding majestic amber towers with spider-web fractures, showering crystalline fragnts like rain.
"Look at what you’ve beco now!" Cyrene desperately parried the mountain-heavy greatsword. The flas of destruction on the Dawnmaker blade, as if alive, spread along the amber sword, burning with a piercing hiss, seemingly trying to burn away that icy shell of reason.
"Sealing the entire world in cold amber, sacrificing your own wholeness and freedom, just for a rigid form of ’preservation’, what does that have to do with your own individual ’preservation’?! Isn’t this fundantally contrary to the answer you believe in—that the Pri Mover of Life is ’preservation’?!"
"But this is about your preservation, Cyrene! Yours!" Khaslana swung his sword to parry Cyrene’s strike.
"So, ultimately, what pushed you to make such an extre choice... was for ? Was it... love?"
Cyrene keenly caught the flaw in Phaethon’s words. She pressed forward again, the ceremonial staff of rembrance tracing cold, precise arcs.
"You see, even you are proving it with your actions! What drives you today isn’t just the cold logic of ’preservation’! It’s love! It’s the burning ’love’ that doesn’t want to lose , that wants to ’exist’!"
Asterion was silent. His response was an even more frantic, seemingly venting-like, heavy smash of the amber greatsword, forcing Cyrene to retreat backward.
He neither explained nor refuted. But deep within those amber-colored eyes, the crimson light began to flicker violently, to flare and dim.
Seeing Phaethon’s reaction, Cyrene deftly flipped in mid-air, steadied herself, crossed her twin swords before her, the fla of belief burning in her eyes. Her voice was clear and firm, echoing beneath the starry river:
"If the ultimate aning of the Pri Mover of Life is rely ’preservation’ itself, then what essential difference is there between us and those wildly proliferating bacteria, or the ’Virus’ in the air that only knows how to replicate and assimilate?!"
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