Astral Express.
Outside the porthole, the massive Xianzhou Luofu was fully visible.
Anaxa stood by the window, his glasses reflecting a cold, flowing light.
Behind him, Cipher was playfully chasing her own tail, stirring up a small whirlwind, yet it couldn't budge him in the slightest.
He had already deciphered a certain pattern.
Regarding why he and Cipher were the first Chrysos Heirss to arrive.
"The entanglement of paths determined the order of manifestation."
He murmured to himself, his voice as flat as if he were solving an equation.
"The first path is 'Erudition,' that is me."
"The second path is 'Destruction,' that is he himself."
"The third path is 'Elation,' that is Cipher."
"If one likens Titans to paths, this is the most rigorous deduction."
Anaxa's gaze seemed to pierce through the ship, landing on a certain corner of the Xianzhou Loufu.
"Now, he is on the Xianzhou Loufu, for revenge, has he already dabbled in 'The Hunt'…"
Cipher's cat ears twitched nimbly, and she curiously leaned over.
"Tree boy, what unintelligible things are you muttering about again?"
Anaxa didn't turn around, a sense of calm permeating his voice.
"We will soon have new Chrysos Heirss appearing…"
"Strife? Or rather, The Hunt…"
A curve formed at his lips.
"Heh, truly a pugnacious path."
—
At the same time, Xianzhou Loufu, a certain abandoned spaceport.
The sea breeze carried the salty smell of corroded rust, making Phainon's black robe flap loudly.
He held the Jade Abacus "borrowed" from Yanqing, boarded a star skiff, and arrived here in silence.
There was no one around, only the huge shadows of abandoned containers and the mournful creak of steel slowly dying in time.
Phainon's lips curved slightly.
He spoke as if to the empty dock, his voice not loud, but it stirred up a clear echo.
"When will the person arrive? I'm getting a little anxious waiting."
"Alas…" A faint sigh came from behind a massive load-bearing stone pillar.
Blade, holding the ancient sword "Shuri" wrapped in bandages, walked out, his eyes melancholic, "Kafka, are we really going to make a deal with him?"
Before he finished speaking.
A soft laugh rang out behind Phainon, a voice as if mixed with honey and hooks, capable of drilling into one's bones.
"Listen to me: relax, Blade. Don't forget, Elio said he is a crucial part."
Kafka's figure solidified like purple mist; she stood behind Phainon, forming a perfect angle with Blade in front, a deadly formation.
Phainon didn't even turn around.
He merely glanced at Blade in front with an understated look.
"This position…"
He paused, a hint of madness flashing in his eyes, making the surrounding air a few degrees hotter.
"…is very dangerous."
Blade's fingers gripping the sword hilt instantly tensed, an invisible killing intent causing even the dust on the ground to cease floating.
"What I mean is," Phainon's voice added lightly, "it's very dangerous for you."
Kafka, however, smiled even more enchantingly; she took elegant steps, actively moving out of that deadly angle, her high heels clicking crisply on the concrete.
"Don't be nervous, we just like to appreciate interesting sights from different angles."
Phainon finally turned around.
That cold golden mask faced Kafka directly, getting straight to the point.
"The 'talk' you mentioned on the train, was it about this?"
Kafka's smile remained impeccable, "Of course it's just a simple talk."
She said, taking a folded slip of paper from her shirt pocket, holding it between her slender fingers.
"Elio asked me to give this to you… about your 'script'."
"My script?" Phainon asked.
"Exactly." Kafka shook the paper in her hand, her tone full of temptation, "He said, with this, you can walk towards the future you desire. However… there's a small condition."
Phainon stood still, silently watching Kafka.
After a moment, Kafka spread her hands helplessly, a hint of curiosity added to her smile, "Elio was very accurate, you don't like small talk. All right, the script can be yours, but on the condition that…"
Her voice grew serious, "After you fulfill that obsession of yours, join us and become a member of the Stellaron Hunters."
"Stellaron Hunters?"
"Yes, a trade." Kafka said, "Destiny needs your strength."
"Heh heh…"
"Heh heh heh heh heh heh…"
A low, suppressed laugh escaped from beneath Phainon's mask.
"Every single one of you is gathered together to achieve a certain wish. How can Elio be so sure that I, with my wish fulfilled, will still play this boring game with you?"
Kafka shook her head.
Her eyes seemed to penetrate the metal mask, looking directly into Phainon's wildly burning soul.
"Phainon, you might be mistaken about one thing. You… have never had a 'wish' of your own."
"Your existence itself is a destiny that must be fulfilled."
"Only when you reach the end can you truly begin to think… what you want."
"By then, you will naturally come to us."
Phainon's laughter abruptly stopped.
Wish?
My wish?
Is to fulfill everyone's wishes.
Phainon's eyes reflected the wheat fields of Aedes Elysiae.
If they cannot be realized… then send them to tomorrow.
As long as that tomorrow can be reached!
For this, everything can be crushed!
"The script, give it to me."
Upon hearing this, Kafka slowly stepped forward.
She walked very close, close enough to see the cold patterns on the mask, to feel the inhuman heat beneath the black robe.
There was no fear in her eyes, only a strong interest in having found a new companion.
"Take it." Her voice was soft, "Once you take it, the gears of destiny cannot be stopped."
Phainon reached out to take the paper, his fingertips about to unfold it.
"Not so fast." Kafka's finger gently pressed on the paper, stopping him, "You still have more important things to do, don't you?"
"The script should be opened at the most opportune moment, that's when it's interesting."
Phainon's movements stopped.
He paused, then put the paper, which carried destiny, into his pocket.
Then he turned and walked past Blade, who had remained silent.
"Don't let the door hit you on the way out," Blade's voice rang out coldly.
Phainon suddenly stopped.
He didn't turn around, his lips curled slightly, and he said softly in an almost casual tone:
"Oh, by the way, I met a woman on the road. White hair, red eyes. Carrying a sword that freezes things."
"She said… she'll be coming for you very soon."
The moment his words fell, Blade's statue-like body stiffened slightly.
Something cracked open in those dead eyes.
And Phainon's figure had already merged into the deep shadows of the port, disappearing from sight.
Kafka watched Blade's subtle changes with interest, and asked softly:
"Blade, what's wrong?"
Blade squeezed out two words through gritted teeth.
"Nothing… at all."