Cyrene’s arms, raised to block, trembled violently from the shock. Her hands went numb, and her entire body, like a thrown stone, flew uncontrollably backward.

In mid-air, she struggled to adjust her posture. The ritual sword of Remembrance in her right hand swung sharply backward. The icy blade, in order to dissipate the force, continued to cleave through several towering pillar-like amber structures before Cyrene finally managed to stabilize herself.

But the danger was not over!

Almost the moment she stopped, beside her, a square amber giant pillar, under Asterion’s control, came crashing sideways with tremendous force!

It was so fast that she had no chance to dodge.

"Bam—!"

A heavy impact sounded. Cyrene was sent flying once again. That enormous stone pillar, with her body in tow, plowed a shocking and broken path through this silent forest composed of thirty million amber towers. Countless crystalline fragments splashed like a rain of tears.

Although the amber towers used to seal the memories and consciousness of all people across over thirty million eras were more solid, many of them still shattered from the shockwaves of their intense battle.

But... there was not a trace of worry on Asterion’s face.

Because... he knew deeply that as long as he lived, those folders would eventually return and settle back within his mind.

...

"Cough, cough..." As the smoke and dust slowly cleared, Cyrene used Dawnmaker, burning with the flames of Destruction, to support her body. She stood up tenaciously once more, wiped away the non-existent trace of blood from her lips, her gaze still sharp.

"Cyrene," seeing Cyrene still refusing to give up, Asterion finally spoke. His tone carried a hint of bewilderment, but more than that, a deep-seated exhaustion.

He raised his right hand level before him, and in an instant, a highly compressed amber cube containing immense Preservation power condensed into form.

"Why are you so persistent in trying to stop me? Letting Amphoreus continue, allowing more lives to endure, isn’t that good?"

With a casual wave of his hand, the amber cube tore through the air, carrying a low howl of terrifying wind pressure, chasing after Cyrene like a falling star!

"Phaethon," Cyrene cried out clearly. Dawnmaker in her hand traced a dark red arc as she boldly cleaved the incoming amber cube in two. The exploding energy blew back her hair.

"I also want to know, why are you still so stubborn, even more so now, believing that the Prime Mover of Life can only be ’Preservation’?"

Her piercing gaze met Phaethon’s amber-colored eyes. "What you are doing now, sacrificing yourself, solidifying memories, sealing the world in amber... what does that have to do with your own ’preservation’?!"

"Why do I more firmly believe that the Prime Mover of Life is Preservation?" Asterion’s tone suddenly became low and melancholy. The rational shell he had always maintained seemed to crack open, revealing the bottomless pain and obsession beneath. "It’s because Cyrene, you... died."

These words exploded like thunder on the battlefield.

"You died. In the real world, under the cold laws of physics, you no longer exist. If before, there was still a possibility that you might be noticed by an Aeon and become a true life form..." His voice carried a slight tremble.

"But now, aside from embarking on this extreme path of Preservation, freezing everything, reversing life and death... I can think of no other way to resurrect you, to let you... as a true life, go see that sea of stars that you and Phainon have always longed for."

"..."

Cyrene fell silent. She hadn’t realized that the heavy obsession now almost crushing Phaethon had its root in her.

After a moment, she suddenly let out a soft laugh. In that laugh, there was no mockery, no sadness, only a warm understanding and firmness.

"Little Phaethon, look," her voice softened, yet carried the power to pierce through all mist, "In fact, even you yourself don’t completely believe that the Prime Mover of Life is merely preservation."

"Because—in our hearts, there are always some things that are higher than life itself!"

"You are like this! To resurrect me, you can walk this path of ’preservation’ that nearly destroys yourself!"

"I am like this! To stop you, to make you find yourself again, I willingly endure the burning of Destruction’s power and the impact of the memory flood!"

"Phainon is like this! The hatred and destruction he left behind ultimately transformed into the sword blade that cleaves open the barrier of your heart!"

"The Chrysos Heirs who participated in the ’Flame Chase Journey’ are also like this! For their beliefs, when did they ever only consider their own preservation?!"

"So now, I will interpret for you—mine and Phainon’s Prime Mover of Life!!!"

Cyrene took a deep breath, adjusted her stance. The duo weapon in her hands hummed softly, as if in resonance.

Her aura surged upward, not only from herself but also from the prayers and power of countless "selves" within those over thirty million amber towers.

"Perhaps, I will eventually pass away. Or perhaps, at some point in the future, you really will ’revive’ me in some way."

"But no matter what, Phaethon! In the end, I will always be by your side!"

Her declaration rang out like an oath through this sea of consciousness:

"Even death cannot ultimately separate us!"

"If saving this world requires a price, then—" her gaze was extremely resolute, carrying a tender madness, "count me in as part of that price!"

"This is my answer—Love! The Prime Mover of Life as perceived by the individual named Cyrene!" Cyrene pointed the ritual staff in her hand at Phaethon.

"But Cyrene, Amphoreus cannot be saved just by saying ’love,’ ’love,’ ’love’! Without Preservation, the ones I love—you all—would become nothing! Nothing!" Asterion retorted. Clearly, he did not accept Cyrene’s answer.

"I know. I know." Cyrene repeated softly, but her voice grew increasingly firm and loud.

"But I never intended to completely overturn your Preservation... What I am about to do is to use my preservation to interpret for you, what is Cyrene’s ’love’!!! And what is Phainon’s ’hatred’!!!"

...

Only... neither Cyrene nor Asterion, locked in their confrontation, noticed.

From the countless damaged, tomb-like amber towers on the battlefield, tiny specks of starlight, like fireflies, were drifting out.

They slowly rose, and ultimately, above the heads of the two locked in intense confrontation, they intertwined and gathered, reflecting a brilliant and gentle river of stars.

Behind that river of stars, it seemed as if a pair of eyes were watching all of this. But... They were not watching the two confronting each other. They were watching the river of stars itself.