"Flame Reaver!"
The moment 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 memory of this guy snatching the Coreflame right in front of her was still fresh.
Aglaea took a step forward, shielding Cipher behind her. Her voice remained melodious, yet it carried an unshakable authority and an icy pressure:
"You have repeatedly seized Coreflames by force. Whatever purpose you hide behind, now is the time to return them." The words were a warning, and also a threat.
"…"
Khaslana remained utterly indifferent to Aglaea's accusation. The cold metal mask concealed all emotion, revealing nothing. He did not justify himself, merely 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 moment, he moved!
From the void, several doppelgangers formed 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, meanwhile, took a single step forward. As his foot landed, it seemed 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 supremely swift motion, he brought the worn blade down in a vertical slash aimed at Phainon's head!
A black-red thread, condensed to its utmost limit, seemed to slice through space itself!
*Clang——!!!*
A deafening crash of metal on metal exploded! At the critical moment, Phainon crossed his sword to block, bringing his own "Dawnmaker" up to clash violently against the worn sword!
The immense 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.
"Flame Reaver! You seize Coreflames, 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 merely shifted his worn sword slightly, effortlessly blocking "Dawnmaker's" edge.
Where the two swords met, a shower of blinding sparks flew. Through the leaping flames, the gaze hidden behind his mask seemed to pierce through everything, reaching straight into Phainon's soul:
"Tell me, Phainon of Aedes Elysiae! To illuminate the so-called new world, do you possess the resolve to become the blazing sun that incinerates all—even if the flames of that sun ultimately consume everything in the world, both what you hate and what you cherish?"
The question struck Phainon's heart like a hammer. 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 seemed 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 moment, 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 resentment 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 fragmented doppelganger into shards. Though Cipher, Hysilens, and others were still not free from their own engagements, 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 aimed straight for—
*Clang!*
A light sound. The cold metal mask covering the Flame 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 concealment, to Phainon—and to all the Chrysos Heirs witnessing this scene.
At that moment, time itself seemed to freeze.
Phainon's pupils violently contracted. Every single one of his movements 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 Flame 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 moment, quietly appeared before all the Chrysos Heirs.
Phainon stiffly turned his neck. He looked at this "Flame 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 something were tightly constricted, and even his voice became hoarse and faint.
"Cyrene…?"