The crowd: "...!"
A deathly silence instantly replaced the clamor.
The crowd, which had been desperately surging forward just a moment before, now recoiled as if struck by an invisible tidal wave. With a collective gasp, they retreated over ten meters in an instant, clearing a perfect circle around Phaethon!
The center of the crowded street was forcibly emptied by a mixture of "awe" and "fear," creating a vacuum.
The only ones left were Trianne, standing dumbfounded at the edge of this vacuum, and Tribbie and Castorice, finally able to breathe in the center but looking more tense than ever.
"Teacher Tribbie!" Castorice instinctively leaped in front of Tribbie. Her small hands, usually so carefully folded, were now slightly raised, palms facing down. An intangible, yet heart-palpitating aura of extinction began to swirl around her—her Authority of Death was fully activated.
Her violet eyes locked onto the terrifying crimson figure, her voice carrying a barely perceptible tremor, yet filled with determination: "Step back! This person... is extremely dangerous!"
Phaethon looked at the three familiar faces... He flipped his wrist with a *shing*, driving the broken sword, still slick with gold-and-crimson blood, into the flagstones at his feet.
Then, he took two deliberate steps back, his actions clearly indicating he had no intention to fight at this moment.
But this was absolutely not a sign of trust. The invisible buffs upon him—[Agility], [Strength], [Precision], [Spirit], [Stamina]... even [Levitation] and [Wind Control]—remained active, not a single one dismissed.
He could not, and would not, entrust his life to a group of people who, while familiar in appearance, were ultimately of unknown allegiance. To gamble? That would be the most foolish act.
Just then, High Priest Vittorio finally caught up, leaning against a wall and gasping for breath.
"Phaethon! You... could you not consider... the pace of an old man like me... these old bones?" he complained, struggling for air. He finally managed to catch his breath and looked up—
Σ(ŎдŎ|||)!!!
The scene before him made his soul practically flee in terror! Phaethon and the envoys from Okhema were in a tense standoff!
Especially that purple-haired girl, the aura of death swirling around her made his scalp numb!
"Phaethon! Phaethon! Calm down! They are not enemies!" Vittorio practically threw himself between the two parties, waving his arms frantically as he shouted.
"These are the esteemed envoys who have come all the way from the holy city of Okhema! This two are Lady Tribios!" He pointed at Tribbie and Trianne.
Then he quickly gestured towards Castorice, "And this is... uh..."
"My name is Castorice, Your Excellency Vittorio."
"Ah, thank you. She is Castorice. They are our Golden Descendant allies, who have come specifically in response to the divine prophecy to protect Miss Cyrene!"
He immediately turned to the equally wary Tribbie, his face plastered with an earnest smile, speaking rapidly: "Respected Lady Tribios! A misunderstanding! A tremendous misunderstanding! This Lord Phaethon is absolutely not an enemy! On the contrary, he is Miss Cyrene's most steadfast protector!
The upheaval in Janusopolis today stems precisely from his war against the corrupt factions of Helios and Ascalon, who had entrenched themselves here, all to protect Miss Cyrene!
That pillar of light you saw earlier... ahem... was Lord Phaethon's doing..." Vittorio's voice carried a tremor of lingering fear, but more was the urgency of his mediation.
Under Vittorio's rapid-fire explanations and guarantees, the tense atmosphere finally eased slightly.
Castorice carefully retracted her manifested Authority of Death, her small hands folding properly in front of her once more, though her eyes still darted warily towards Phaethon.
Tribbie's expression relaxed a little, her sharp gaze scrutinizing Vittorio, then shifting to the expressionless Phaethon, as if assessing the credibility of his words.
Trianne tilted her head curiously, looking from Phaethon to the broken sword embedded in the ground.
...
The subsequent chaos gradually moved towards order under the direction of High Priest Vittorio, a figure of "great virtue and prestige" (at least in the hearts of the common people and lower-level Sanctuary personnel).
Phaethon was not a slaughter-happy demon king. Those priests and guards in the Sanctuary who hadn't raised their weapons to block his path of vengeance, he couldn't be bothered with.
Now, these survivors, under Vittorio's command, began the difficult task of cleaning up the aftermath.
With Vittorio's swift and decisive guidance, the vast properties of the Helios and Ascalon families in Janusopolis were quickly seized and reclaimed by the Sanctuary authorities.
When these ill-gotten gains were made public, especially when the forcibly opened private family warehouses, piled mountain-high with grain, were exposed to the light, the entire city fell into a deathly silence, followed by soaring rage.
"This... this much grain?!"
"Enough to feed the entire city for three years... maybe more!"
"But we... we were starving before! My child..."
"Those beasts! They watched us starve while hoarding grain until it rotted?!"
Vittorio stood at the entrance of a granary, his old face dark as storm clouds as he looked at the overflowing, even rotting, grains inside.
He took a deep breath, his voice amplified by magic to reach the entire crowd: "The Sanctuary has failed in its oversight! We have failed the people! This grain rightfully belongs to Janusopolis! Effective immediately, we will register households and distribute it fairly! The Sanctuary will use all the ill-gotten wealth of Helios and Ascalon to compensate the victims, aid the wounded, and rebuild our homes!"
This news spread through the city like a thunderclap. The rage was gradually replaced by a complex emotion, tinged with the hope of having survived a disaster.
Furthermore, Tribbie, the former "holy maiden" of Janusopolis, used her natural "prestige" and impartial image to actively assist Vittorio in calming the populace and allocating resources. The chaotic Janusopolis finally saw a glimmer of hope for the restoration of order.
There was, of course, another reason: Phaethon's world-obliterating pillar of light had destroyed countless buildings and carved bottomless chasms, yet it had bizarrely not harmed a single innocent civilian. It was as if the destructive power had eyes, precisely avoiding all non-combatants.
(Golden Finger: That's obviously because of meow~...? What the heck is this meow~? Author! What did you stuff in me this time meow!!!)
...
Inside the "Cyrene and Phaethon Eatery," which was damaged but miraculously still structurally intact, the atmosphere was completely different from the noisy reconstruction outside.
Cyrene was quite amused, gently poking Trianne's soft and squishy cheek with her finger. Each poke made Trianne puff her cheeks and let out a disgruntled "Mmph!", trying to dodge, only to be pulled back by Cyrene's giggles. Then Cyrene would whisper something in her ear.
"So..." Tribbie sat to the side, watching the two fooling around, her brows adorably furrowed slightly. She looked towards Phaethon, who was sitting in a corner selecting a usable longsword, and voiced the question that had been bothering her all the way,
"Lord Phaethon, Miss Cyrene told us that you have an... elder brother who is indeed the Golden Descendant foretold by the oracle. But you yourself seem to be... otherwise?"