However, just as he vaguely discerned a figure beside Phainon—an extremely dim, pitch-black silhouette seemingly formed from some purest form of "emotion"—

Phaethon’s pupils abruptly contracted. An icy cognition pierced through his thoughts in an instant: this dark figure might have the power to kill him, but what was more certain was—it would inevitably bring about Phainon’s death!

They couldn’t keep fighting.

He refused to bear that cost.

The turbulent energy tide surrounding Phaethon slowly subsided as he voluntarily ceased his attack.

His gaze calmly fixed on the two below, who were braced for battle as if facing a great enemy. His voice carried a factual coldness, yet also held a faint, barely perceptible warning, an attempt to make them retreat while they still could:

"Give up. Ask yourselves honestly... can you really stop me?"

Phaethon’s words echoed beneath the shattered firmament. "From the moment the three of us first set foot on this path of ’salvation,’ in terms of pure combat prowess, I have always been... the strongest. That is an indisputable fact."

"Phaethon..." 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Seeing that Phaethon had taken the initiative to stop and speak, a flicker of fragile hope seemed to cross Cyrene’s face, tense from the battle.

She anxiously stepped forward, her voice carrying both entreaty and a pain she couldn’t comprehend:

"But sealing all of Amphoreus, every living being, into that cold amber—this is fundamentally a path of no return! The ’Preservation’ equation forcibly born from this would be twisted and extreme. It could never be the answer hoped for by the billions of lives in Amphoreus!"

Phaethon was silent for a moment, not immediately refuting her. On his face—unchanged since youth yet bearing too much world-weariness—a profoundly complex emotion flickered.

After a long while, as if suppressing some surging emotion back into the depths of his heart, he let out a faint, almost inaudible sigh.

He raised his eyes again, his gaze once more becoming deep and calm, and posed a question that caught them off guard:

"You think... that my ultimate goal in sealing Amphoreus within amber is to solve that ’Preservation’ equation and save the world?"

Phainon’s voice was already somewhat hoarse; he felt a flame searing his throat, but he still forced himself to ask through the intense pain:

"Is it not?! Phaethon, aren’t you trying, through this paranoid and extreme method, to prove to the aloof Aeons that the ultimate answer to life, the so-called ’Prime Mover of Life,’ is still the cold principle of ’Preservation’?!"

Cyrene’s voice trembled uncontrollably. "Phaethon, the path you’ve chosen... has truly gone astray!"

Though those once-gentle blue eyes now held only the frozen luster of amber, Cyrene still tried to find some trace of the past in Phaethon’s gaze.

"This path ultimately leads only to a cage where all things fall silent! It can never be... the true ’salvation’ for Amphoreus!"

Facing the successive accusations from his brother and childhood friend, Phaethon’s figure, suspended in the air, seemed to grow even more solitary.

The faintly indifferent curve at the corner of his mouth, maintained all along, finally relaxed slightly, transforming instead into a smile tinged with endless bitterness.

He did not refute their claims, nor did he mount a grand defense of his actions. Instead, in a tone so calm it was unsettling, he said:

"I never... cared about the answer to the Prime Mover of Life." His voice was soft, yet it cut like a cold scalpel, laying bare all the outward grandeur.

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the two who were abruptly frozen by this sudden confession, and continued in that same matter-of-fact tone:

"And I never... intended to save any world."

"—!"

Phainon’s pupils contracted violently. The Phaethon in his memory and understanding—the one who, driven by the pursuit of prime mover of life and the ideal of "Deliverance," was paranoid to the point of madness, even standing opposite them at this moment as a "Deliverer"— was now personally denying all of this? He almost doubted his ears. He had imagined countless arguments, but never anticipated that Phaethon would give such an answer.

Phaethon took in the shock and bewilderment written all over Phainon and Cyrene’s faces.

He did not explain. Instead, he slowly raised his head, gazing at Amphoreus’s artificial firmament—already torn by battle, flickering and unstable like a faulty television screen.

He looked at this sky he had "protected" for countless cycles, and the bitter smile at the corner of his mouth deepened, tinged with greater weariness:

"Want to hear... the truth?"

His voice remained calm, but beneath that calm, undercurrents seemed to surge, powerful enough to swallow stars.

"I... don’t care."

"I don’t care if ’Iron Tomb’ hatches, I don’t care what ultimately becomes of this world called Amphoreus—whether it’s total annihilation or a return to lifeless silence..."

He repeated, as if trying to etch this icy will into his very soul,

"I don’t care. Not one bit."

Phaethon’s words did not stop. He was speaking not only to Cyrene and Phainon, but also to himself.

"I didn’t set foot on this so-called path of ’Deliverance’ to save this world, nor to participate in some ’flame chase journey.’"

He continued dissecting the core of his identity as a "Deliverer," his words cruel and true,

"In fact, throughout this long span of over ten million recurrences, 99.99% of the people—their lives and deaths, their joys and sorrows... I don’t care about them."

Yet, right after this declaration of ultimate indifference, a subtle shift occurred in Phaethon’s tone. Within those cold words, an extremely faint, yet unyieldingly resilient... warmth seemed to infuse.

"But... I still made it through all the same."

His gaze seemed to pierce through time, seeing those few figures who, throughout the endless cycles, had always shone like beacons lighting his solitary journey.

"Just... relying on those few people... step by step... I made it through."

Phaethon’s voice was very soft, carrying an indescribably complex emotion, as if it were a sigh, or perhaps his final anchor.

Amphoreus, he had never loved.

Amphoreus, he had never abandoned.

"So... do you want to hear my true ’salvation’ plan? The one that could almost save everyone in Amphoreus?" Phaethon took a deep breath, finally deciding to tell them what he intended to do.