Cyrene wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes with a towel and explained, "It’s only been about five hours since Mydei forcibly intervened in the trial to pull you out."
"Hyacine ca by earlier. She said your ntal exhaustion was extre and you might be unconscious for a whole day. We didn’t expect you to regain consciousness so quickly. It’s really wonderful."
"Five hours..." Phaethon repeated softly. Fragnted mories from the trial flooded his mind, causing him to frown slightly. "What a... miserable showing."
He didn’t shy away from acknowledging his failure.
Then, brushing aside those unpleasant mories, he asked the crucial question: "By the way, where are Aglaea and Mydei? After my trial was forcibly terminated, where did they go?"
Upon hearing this question, the slightly relaxed expression on Phainon’s face instantly vanished, replaced by a grave seriousness. He answered in a low voice:
"Mydei’s deanor seed off ever since he rescued you."
"And Aglaea left to handle an ergency once your condition stabilized."
"She said... after the confirmation of the Titan of Strife, Nikador’s death, the Black Tide—which had been sowhat blocked or suppressed deep within Castrum Kremnos by his power—has lost its final constraint and begun to erge on a large scale. The situation seems... quite dire."
Phainon paused, his tone growing even heavier. "It appears that the fallen Titan might have, even if unconsciously, borne a part of the burden of holding back the Black Tide during his life."
"Now that burden... has fallen away completely. Aglaea had to attend to this imdiately, assess the situation, and organize defenses."
---
After a brief rest, Phaethon felt his physical strength and ntal energy had largely recovered.
But his mind remained preoccupied with the Black Tide erging in Castrum Kremnos, so he got up, intending to find Aglaea to discuss counterasures.
As he passed through a relatively quiet corridor within the sacred city of Okhema, however, he spotted an unexpected figure in a corner.
It was Mydei.
This Crown Prince of Castrum Kremnos, who usually carried himself with the sharp, imposing presence of a lion, was now leaning alone against the cold stone wall. His head was slightly bowed, golden strands of hair obscuring part of his expression, but his furrowed brow and the heavy, oppressive aura surrounding him were utterly different from his usual self.
He seed lost in his own world, not imdiately noticing Phaethon’s approach.
Phaethon stopped, watching this version of Mydei in silence for a mont.
He recalled his own recent trial, Phainon’s words about Mydei forcibly intervening to extract him, and the warning that "Mydei’s deanor seed off afterward."
He chose not to startle him with a greeting. Instead, he walked forward quietly and leaned against the stone wall beside Mydei, mimicking his posture, keeping a respectful but companionable distance between their shoulders.
The two stood side by side in silence for a while, with only the faint sound of wind passing through the colonnade.
It was Phaethon who finally spoke first, his voice lower than usual:
"Mydei," Phaethon turned his head slightly to look at the other’s resolute profile. "Thank you for charging into the trial and pulling out, regardless of the danger. I owe you one."
He paused. Seeing the other remained silent, he continued, his tone gentling further:
"But... Phainon told later that after you ’yanked’ out of that damn place... your own expression wasn’t quite right either."
Phaethon chose his words carefully. "Mydeimos, did you... also see sothing in that trial?"
"..."
Mydei gave no reaction, as if what he witnessed in the trial was sothing too heavy to be voiced easily.
But Phaethon wasn’t bothered. He hadn’t expected an imdiate answer anyway.
He turned his head back, his gaze drifting towards the bright, dazzling sky of Okhema beyond the corridor. He spoke as if to Mydei, yet also as if to himself:
"That voice in the ’Strife’ trial... was truly despicable, wasn’t it?"
A trace of bitter self-mockery tugged at the corner of Phaethon’s mouth.
"It was like it could see the deepest cracks in your soul, zeroing in on your weaknesses and hamring away at them relentlessly. The worst part... you couldn’t even completely refute what it said."
He let out a soft sigh. "But... going through that did prove one thing."
"As a warrior, my heart... is still far from strong enough."
Phaethon admitted his own inadequacy, but there was no despondency in his tone—only a clear-eyed confrontation with reality.
"However, forcing to look at the fears and weaknesses I least wanted to face, that I’d been trying to ignore... spreading them out under the sun... maybe that’s not entirely a bad thing."
"At the very least..."
Phaethon’s voice carried a new resolve, "...from now on, I can’t self-deceptively ignore them anymore."
"I have to look at them. And then... find a way to beco stronger. Strong enough to ensure those ’possibilities’ never co to pass."
"..."
Beside him, Mydei remained silent, but his previously statue-like rigid posture seed to relax by an imperceptible degree.
Phaethon didn’t press the topic further. He reached out and gave Mydei’s solid arm a firm pat.
"Alright." He straightened up, his tone turning practical and firm once more.
"Enough reminiscing and introspection for now. There are more pressing matters—large numbers of Black Tide entities are erging near Castrum Kremnos. If left unchecked, the Tide could soon overwhelm Okhema."
"I must et with Lady Aglaea imdiately to formulate a response strategy."
He took a step to leave, but as he passed by Mydei’s side, his footsteps hesitated for a mont.
He didn’t turn back. His voice ca through clearly, carrying an unprecedented gravity:
"But, Mydei."
"Don’t misunderstand . Telling you all this... it’s not because I expect or hint that you should take up that mantle of ’Strife’."
His words were decisive. "I respect the decisions each of you make, whatever they may be."
"However," his voice suddenly rose, infused with an undeniable sense of responsibility and determination, "as an Elder of Okhema, as the Deliverer, I must act now. I need to consolidate Okhema’s forces and lead any willing armies from both Okhema and Castrum Kremnos to head for Castrum Kremnos with all haste—"
"To stem the Black Tide, and defend this last stretch of land beneath our feet."
With that, he didn’t linger, striding away, leaving behind a resolute and hurried back.
Only after the sound of Phaethon’s footsteps had completely faded at the end of the corridor did the ever-silent Mydei, slow as a mountain, finally... lift his head.
His profound gaze fixed in the direction Phaethon had departed. Complex lights churned and settled violently within his magma-like eyes.
What he had witnessed in that trial... was the people of Castrum Kremnos, for the sake of their obsolete Castrum honor, fighting the people of Okhema to the death... until the Castrum dynasty was utterly extinguished...
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