"Long time no see?"
Welt Yang's lips parted silently, repeating the greeting.
It wasn't a question, but an affirmation.
Herrscher.
Just two words, but they unearthed long-buried memories.
The Honkai is still chasing me!
The world he stood upon twisted, peeled away, and disintegrated beneath his feet, leaving him frozen in place.
Above, the divine punishment continued.
"No! This is impossible! What kind of power is this?!"
Cocolia's shriek was drowned out by the roar of falling stars.
Her proud Stellaron power, before the incineration of all stars, was as insignificant as a flickering candle.
In despair, she pushed the meteor she had condensed towards the sky.
What greeted it was the collapse of the firmament.
Boom! Boom! Boom—!
One after another, stars burning with molten-gold flames accurately smashed onto her ice crystal divine body.
Armor shattered, divine body disintegrated.
The Stellaron's wild energy surged within her, searching for an outlet.
Her body was being completely torn apart, from the inside out, by two immense powers she could not control.
"I... I was only doing it for Belobog..."
Her final consciousness let out a faint, unwilling roar.
Phainon, suspended in the air, showed no ripples in his molten-gold eyes.
He was merely a detached spectator, watching a soul consumed by desire head towards their predetermined end.
"Mother!"
Bronya's cries were heart-wrenching. She instinctively rushed towards the energy storm but was held back firmly by Seele.
Finally, the light dissipated.
Cocolia returned to her former appearance, transforming into golden dust scattered across the sky, sparkling in the rising sun.
In her last moments before dissipating, she smiled.
It was a smile of relief, having shed all burdens.
Seeing this, Phainon's pupils involuntarily twitched.
Was it liberation?
At least, she found liberation at the end of her life, leaving without regret.
The wind and snow stopped.
The dark clouds that had enveloped Belobog for seven hundred years were completely torn apart.
The long-absent warm sunlight pierced through the clouds for the first time, bathing this weathered land.
In the light, that god-like figure slowly descended.
His wings of light and shadow and golden divine radiance dissolved, and he returned to his spotless white uniform.
He didn't look at anyone, turned, and prepared to leave.
"Wait!"
Stelle's voice rang out.
Everyone else was still immersed in the complex emotions of surviving the disaster, but only she caught the retreating figure about to exit.
Phainon's steps paused, but he didn't turn back.
Stelle clutched the Flaming Lance in her hand.
The flame at the tip of the spear had extinguished, but the fervent will belonging to Preservation still pulsed in her palm.
She looked at that solitary white back, a myriad of questions churning in her heart.
But when the words reached her lips, only one remained.
"You are... Phainon, right?"
Phainon's figure swayed slightly in the rising sunlight.
He didn't answer.
The brilliant sunlight swallowed Phainon's silhouette, and Stelle instinctively squinted.
When she opened her eyes again, the spot was empty.
Only a whisper, light as a sigh, drifted into her ears with the gentle breeze.
"...Go witness, go choose, go trailblaze... I await you at the end of the cycle..."
"Uncle Yang! Uncle Yang! What's wrong with you?!"
March 7th's anxious shouts pulled Stelle's thoughts back to reality.
She spun around suddenly.
She saw Welt Yang falling straight backward, quickly caught by Dan Heng.
His eyes were tightly closed, his face serene.
In one hand, he clutched a bottle of quick-acting heart medicine, the packaging still unopened.
"Oh my god!" March 7th was dumbfounded. "Uncle Yang... is he malfunctioning again?!"
—
Silvermane Guards Restricted Area, changing room.
A profound silence.
Phainon's figure appeared out of thin air.
He silently looked at the neatly folded black robe in the wardrobe.
At some point, it had been cleaned and still carried the warmth of being dried.
He reached out and unbuttoned his white uniform.
Phainon meticulously folded the Silvermane Guards' white uniform and placed it aside.
Then, he put on the familiar black robe.
He picked up the cold mask again.
A line of cold text appeared before his eyes.
[Aha!]
[Grand Merriment: +1000!]
[Authority: Make-believe reality, advanced.]
[Current Authority: Make-believe reality 2.0 (Merriment).]
[Make-believe reality 2.0: Hahahaha, guess the effect!]
Phainon watched everything calmly.
Not bad.
A good show, the audience was satisfied, and he got the desired reward.
The power of Merriment grew stronger, meaning he was one step closer to his obsession.
As for the price... he glanced at the folded white uniform, as if he could see through it to the old man whose spirit had been crushed.
He'd find time to use March 7th's pocket money to buy Old Yang a mech as compensation.
Of course... this wasn't the last time.
He slowly picked up the golden mask, examining his reflection on their surface.
Flame Reaver was Phainon's mask.
And Phainon, in turn, was Flame Reaver's mask.
Thump, thump—
A faint knock on the door sounded.
"Flame... Mr.? Is that you?"
It was Pela's voice, tinged with nervousness.
"Are you in there? I'm so sorry, I saw your clothes were dirty earlier, so... I took the liberty of having someone clean them for you."
Phainon pondered for a moment, then mechanically squeezed out a word from his throat.
"Thank you..."
Pela outside clearly breathed a sigh of relief, her voice becoming much lighter.
"Um... will we ever meet again?"
"I think... not."
Phainon's answer plunged the atmosphere outside the door into silence.
After a long silence, Pela asked one last question.
"I... can I write your heroic story in my novel? As the protagonist."
Phainon's fingers, holding the mask, paused.
Hero?
"As you wish..."
"However, I am not a hero."
"Not in the past, and... not in the future either."
The moment his words fell, his figure completely merged into the shadow of the corner, disappearing without a trace.
Pela outside took a deep breath, and finally pushed the door open and stepped into the changing room.
The room was empty.
Only the neatly folded white uniform remained, lying quietly there.
Silently proving that a "Flame Reaver" had briefly stayed.