"The truth of the world?"
Phainon softly repeated these four words, a silent fire burning deep within his pupils.
Truth was the most malicious lie in the universe.
For a split second, he even wanted The Supreme Guardian, who was so high and mighty, to personally experience what it meant to "turn around in 50 meters!"
Fortunately, the gray figure appeared in his mind, and he suppressed the urge.
The next moment, Phainon's lips curved into a cold, unfeeling arc.
"Alright... I'd like to hear it..."
...Everwinter Hill.
Belobog's highest point, a forbidden zone of wind and snow, where the cold wind bit.
At the center of the blizzard, a colossal Stellaron remained silently suspended.
It emitted no light, yet it was like a greedy black hole, devouring everything in their sight, including the concept called "hope."
"Seven hundred years ago, the Antimatter Legion almost destroyed everything we had."
Cocolia spread her arms, her posture both devout and frenzied, as if embracing a baptism of the apocalypse.
"It was the Stellaron that unleashed the Eternal Freeze, saving us from the brink of destruction!"
"For seven hundred years, every single day, we have fought against this endless cold! Every generation has been born into despair and died in despair!"
She suddenly turned, her eyes burning with a mad flame, fixed intently on Phainon.
"Do you understand? This never-ending suffering!"
Phainon listened quietly.
There wasn't a single superfluous expression on his face.
Seven hundred years?
In his thirty million endless cycles, seven hundred years wasn't even enough to wake from a dream.
Suffering?
His soul had long been incinerated to charcoal; even the concept of "pain" had become a luxury.
If suffering was the only proof of being alive, then was he still considered alive?
Just then.
A grand voice resonated directly in his mind.
"Give up struggling..."
"I can feel your weariness, your unwillingness, your anger..."
"Look—"
"At that blessed peak, look at the world you should have had!"
In an instant, the world of wind and snow before him receded like a tide.
The mask at Phainon's waist flashed with a cold light.
A bustling, warm modern city slowly unfolded before his eyes.
The sun was gentle, and skyscrapers rose high.
Castorice, wearing a school uniform, was surrounded by a crowd, her smile as beautiful as a flower.
Hyacine rushed through the emergency room, her gaze focused and resolute.
Cipher's supercar became a streak of lightning, speeding down wide streets.
Anaxa and Aglaea argued fiercely at a negotiation table, only to debate how to deal with a criminal named Kennis—whether to deep-fry him first or flay him alive.
Mydei... was sweating profusely, punching a sandbag imprinted with a golden mask.
Tribbie, Trianne, and Trinnon stood at the end of a path full of flowers, waving at Phainon, "Phai-chan, see you tomorrow..."
No war, no destruction, no reincarnation.
Everyone lived an ordinary, mundane, yet incredibly real life.
"This is your world."
"No suffering, no betrayal, no loss."
"Embrace us, and all of this will become reality in the 'New World.'"
The Stellaron's voice, imbued with the power to distort reality, attempted to pry open the deepest crevices of Phainon's soul.
Cocolia stared at Phainon's face, not missing any subtle change.
She saw it!
Phainon's pupils fluctuated!
He was moved!
The scales of victory had tilted!
However, Cocolia would never know.
In that instant, Phainon's heart held only two thoughts.
First, the construction level of this illusion, with their good details, had reference value.
Second, he finally fully understood how to use the authority granted to him by "Elation"—Make-believe reality.
Like a cold engineer, he precisely replicated, encoded, and stored every detail of this illusory city on the scorched earth of his own memory.
[Current emotion: Calm (even a little amused)]
Time flowed by, minute by minute.
The Stellaron's will began to grow anxious, and Cocolia's heart sank to rock bottom.
Suddenly.
Phainon slowly closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, it was still the eternal white wind and snow before him.
"I... agree to your terms."
Cocolia nodded in satisfaction, "Welcome to..."
"Wait..."
Phainon calmly interrupted her, tilting his head slightly, "The stakes... aren't high enough."
He paused, each word like a heavy hammer, striking hard at Cocolia's heartstrings.
"From today onwards, I want all of Belobog's..."
Cocolia's breathing suddenly stopped!
He wants sovereignty?!
Or does he want to replace me and become Belobog's new Guardian?!
Phainon watched her changing expression and, in the calmest tone, finished the latter half of his sentence.
"...all of their trash cans."
"..."
"???"
The air was dead silent.
The wind on Everwinter Hill grew even colder because of that statement.
The ecstasy on Cocolia's face froze inch by inch, finally turning into a blank stare of bewilderment.
She blinked, her mind completely empty.
Even the high and mighty Stellaron's will, which prided itself on knowing everything, experienced a glitch.
[???]
[...Trash cans?]
[Elation collected: +50]
[Elation collected: +50]
—
"Phew..."
Stelle suddenly sat up from the bed in the lower district hotel, a fine layer of cold sweat beading on her forehead.
That sleep was terrible.
Her mind was a jumble of bizarre dream fragments.
She stumbled out of the room, where Dan Heng and March 7th were already waiting.
"You look unwell." Dan Heng frowned slightly, immediately noticing Stelle's exhaustion.
Stelle nodded: "I had a... very strange dream."
"Tell us about it." March 7th leaned in curiously.
Stelle tried hard to recall, piecing together the broken images: "I dreamt of a vast snowy plain, and The Supreme Guardian, with a white-haired man standing beside her. I couldn't see his face clearly."
"And then?"
"Then I seemed to hear them talking about some 'New World,' and finally, the white-haired man made a condition..." Stelle's expression became incredibly peculiar, "He wanted all the trash cans?"
March 7th's eyes lit up, and she slapped her hands together: "Wow! It seems you've met your fated rival, Stelle!"
Stelle held her forehead, letting out a long sigh: "That's not the point! Alright, trash cans are important too... but that white-haired man, I feel like he's a little familiar."
"Could it be Phainon?" March 7th guessed instinctively.
Dan Heng's brows were tightly furrowed. He didn't immediately deny it but pondered for a moment before speaking:
"While Phainon's actions are unpredictable, he holds no ill will towards us, especially towards you.
He would never so blatantly side with Cocolia and stand against us. That doesn't align with his logic."
"Y-you're right..." March 7th scratched her head.
Dan Heng looked into the distance, speaking in a deep voice:
"Don't think about it for now. The priority is to rendezvous with the members of the Moles.
Perhaps we can ask Bronya if she knows that... distinctive white-haired man from your dream."