The enraged combined strike of the three demigods instantly placed Khaslana at the eye of a storm of annihilation!
Yet, faced with this encirclement that can reduce any powerful foe to dust, Khaslana merely swept his gaze around with indifference.
His objective was largely accomplished. Of the twelve Titan Coreflames, ten were already firmly under his control. The remaining ones were not imperative at this moment.
He let out a cold, inscrutable snort. The broken longsword in his hand rose accordingly and swung forward with seemingly casual ease—
There was no earth-shattering explosion, only a deeper, purer "Destruction," like spreading black ripples, silently blooming outward from him.
The incoming golden threads and the Tailor dissolved upon contact with the black tide like ice under sunlight;
The colossal abyssal whale, as if crashing into an intangible vortex of oblivion, found its massive form rapidly devoured and disintegrated, failing to even raise a single splash;
Even the pale blue flames of law beneath his feet flickered and dimmed as the black tide washed over them, like candles snuffed by a breath.
A single strike. With just one, seemingly effortless strike, he had swallowed and annihilated all incoming attacks!
Then, behind him, a teleportation gate with distorted edges silently tore open.
If he wished to leave, none could stop him.
Khaslana's icy gaze swept one last time over the group, battle-ready yet unable to conceal their shock and dread. It finally settled on Cipher, who was leaning against a wall, her breath yet to steady.
A voice devoid of any emotion clearly reached the ears of everyone present:
"These meaningless entanglements end here."
"Of the twelve Coreflames, I possess ten."
"[Time] hides in the minutiae. The [Sky] hangs aloft over the world."
"If you wish to reclaim the Coreflames, to end this nauseating cycle…"
"Then come to the Eye of Twilight—"
"…and face the final truth."
His final words echoed amidst the ruins. Khaslana took a step back, his form completely merging into that distorted portal.
The gate snapped shut instantly. All he left behind was a landscape of devastation, and an invitation—
He was inviting them to that ancient battlefield of legend, where the Sky-folk once fought a bloody war, the place where Amphoreus's fate first turned: the Eye of Twilight. To lift the final veil shrouding Amphoreus's history.
...
During the very first cycle after the Eternal Recurrence began, a minor incident actually occurred.
Okhema was bathed in sunlight back then.
"Little Cyrie, we suddenly thought of something." Tribbie's voice, carrying a childlike seriousness, broke the afternoon quiet.
Tribbie, Trianne, and Trinnon — the three similar yet distinct "Chrysos Heirs" — huddled close to Cyrene like small creatures seeking warmth, resting their heads gently on her lap.
"What is it, Teacher Tribbie, Teacher Trianne, Teacher Trinnon?" Cyrene set aside the book she was perusing, a gentle curve gracing her lips. Her fingers naturally wove into Tribbie's bright red short hair, stroking it softly.
"Hmm…" Tribbie squinted contentedly, then lifted her little face, her curiosity piqued. "Everyone says Amphoreus's 'Re-creation' is an enormous, immense cycle. That everything ends and starts anew. So we were wondering, in the last cycle, what was the 'Chrysos Heir'... like? Was she the same as us?"
"The last cycle…" Cyrene's gaze drifted into the distance, as if dredging up settled memories. She began, her tone like that of someone recounting an old fairy tale, "Teacher Tribbie, you were also the guiding lamp for the Golden Descendants, a respected teacher to all…"
She narrated the experiences of the Chrysos Heir from the previous life, the daily routines and duties not fundamentally different from the present.
"So there wasn't much difference after all," Trianne said, sitting up from Cyrene's lap with a hint of disappointment. She waved her little fists, an exaggerated look of yearning on her face. "Trianne thought she'd hear about a super Trianne who could knock down any scary Black Tide creature with just one 'POW!' punch!"
"Trianne," Trinnon interjected softly, gently smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt. "No matter how many cycles pass, the 'Chrysos Heir' of any given cycle is still essentially the 'Chrysos Heir.' So, a 'Punchy Trianne' wouldn't appear."
"Huh… but maybe not necessarily?" Tribbie tilted her head in thought, lightly swatting away Cyrene's fingers, which had somehow found their way back to pinching her cheek. "If there were enough cycles, so many they'd be uncountable like the stars in the sky… surely in one or two cycles, there might be a 'Chrysos Heir' who is… well, a bit different? Statistically speaking, that possibility exists."
"So you're saying… there really could be a 'Punchy Trianne' who could protect everyone?" Trianne's eyes instantly lit up.
But that excited gleam lasted only a moment before quickly dimming. "Trianne is so interested. It's just a pity… we'll probably never get to meet those 'different versions of us.'"
Cyrene watched the three little ones whose moods had plummeted so quickly, and her heart ached in its softest spot.
She recalled what she had recently managed to accomplish, as she grew increasingly familiar and skilled with the power of the Remembrance Path.
A bold, slightly risky idea gradually took shape in her mind. After a moment of contemplation, a flicker of resolve passed through her azure eyes. She spoke softly:
"Well… I might not be able to let you see with your own eyes what the 'Chrysos Heir' of future cycles is like, but…"
She paused, meeting three pairs of eyes instantly focused on her, brimming with anticipation. "I might… be able to let you leave a message for them."
"Leave a message?" Tribbie blinked, the first to grasp the meaning. "Little Cyrie, are you saying… you'll help us send a word to our future selves? That… wouldn't that be too much trouble for you?" Her tone held delight, but was tinged more with concern for Cyrene.
"It wouldn't necessarily have to be me personally delivering the message," Cyrene said with a light laugh, trying to lighten the mood. She carefully chose her words; explaining concepts like mnemic data, information storage, and world rules to these pure, childlike minds was rather difficult. "I've recently learned some… um… rather special little techniques for preserving information. I might be able to try and store a small message… outside the cycle. In a place unaffected by the world's reset."
"Huh?…" Trianne's little brain worked hard to understand. "So it's like carving what we want to say on a stone, and then waiting for the us in the next cycle to go read it? That sounds so fun!"
Her energy immediately surged. As if afraid Cyrene might change her mind, she directly buried her soft, squishy little face into the palm of Cyrene's hand and looked up at her with pleading eyes.