A sharp gleam flashed in Cyrene’s eyes. The Dawnmaker in her left hand erupted with unprecedented flames of destruction, the blade seeming to instantly extend, transforming into a dark red arc of annihilating light!

Using her waist as an axis, she twisted all her strength and will into one concentrated force, roaring as she swung the slash!

"Boom—!"

The crimson red amber pillar was brutally split open from the middle, frantic energy venting to both sides!

Amidst the flying fragments and turbulent energy currents, Cyrene’s figure had already broken through the last line of defense, closing in on Asterion!

"Little Phaethon, give those memories—to me!" She spoke, not attacking, but demanding—demanding that burden he could not bear.

"I never will!" Phaethon roared, his hands instantly conjured two more solid amber greatswords, crossing them to fiercely parry Cyrene’s descending Dawnmaker! The blades clashed, emitting a piercing screech and a terrifying shockwave!

Cyrene hesitated slightly, but then forcefully slammed the ceremonial staff in her right hand, now fully ablaze with pure blue flames of remembrance down hard onto the point of impact!

"Crack—!"

The sound of shattering under strain echoed. Before Asterion’s incredulous gaze, the amber greatsword in his hands, symbolizing his will of "preservation," actually cracked at the point of impact of the two sword and staff’s power!

The immense force forced him back a step. With that single step, the ground beneath his feet materialized from consciousness, instantly shattered like fragile glass, spiderweb-like cracks spreading across a radius of hundreds of meters, almost completely shattered!

"Phaethon, let ’Time’ help you remember the journey of ’Deliverance’!" Cyrene said softly.

A trace of decisiveness flashed in Asterion’s eyes. He abruptly discarded the broken amber sword, now cracked in his hands.

The moment Cyrene closed in, instead of dodging or avoiding, his left hand shot out like lightning, fiercely grabbing hold of Cyrene’s right wrist—the one holding the burning ceremonial staff! At the same time, his right hand clamped onto her left wrist, holding the Dawnmaker, like an iron vise!

Powerful forces wrestled and trembled between their four arms. The flames of destruction and the blue light of remembrance scorching his palms, emitting faint sizzling sounds, but he did not loosen his grip in the slightest.

He gazed at Cyrene, so close, his eyes filled with pain, pleading, and a bottomless fear of loss.

"Cyrene, let me choose ’preservation’ alone! How could I, how could I possibly let you bear such pain..."

His voice trembled, with an almost frantic sob. The hard amber shell had finally completely peeled away, revealing the fragile, real soul beneath, the one afraid of loss.

He was stopping her, not because of ideology, not because of right or wrong, but solely out of the most primitive, deepest emotion—he could not bear a future without her.

...

Just as Phaethon and Cyrene remained deadlocked in their struggle of strength and will, a realization struck her like lightning: she had been talking about love and salvation, yet her actions were still using confrontation and seizure.

If the answer to life includes ’love,’ then the manifestation of this love should not be a forceful ’I give you’ or ’you give me,’ but rather... mutual acceptance, shared bearing.

This thought gradually dissolved all her will to attack.

The sharpness in her eyes faded, replaced by profound sadness and endless tenderness. Her resistance suddenly relaxed.

It was at this moment that a gentle force lightly brushed across the tense battlefield.

"I found you... Asterion."

Accompanied by this voice, simultaneously strange and yet familiar, Phaethon felt a gentle force behind him, gently pushing him forward.

It was Phaethon of Aedes Elysiae!

That fragment bearing his initial emotions and dreams, the one who had traversed the river of memory, ultimately gathering the will and answers of all Chrysos Heirs!

At this moment, he had finally reached the core of the battlefield, touching the original body crushed under the heavy pressure of ’preservation’!

He pushed Phaethon into Cyrene’s embrace!

And in that instant of being tightly embraced by Cyrene, both of them were completely stunned.

The physical senses transmitted simple signals: warmth, soft fabric, a steady heartbeat, and an indescribable, comforting scent.

Hugging is truly strange. What the skin transmits to the brain is merely the simplest sensation—warmth.

Yet deep in the soul, a voice clearly told him: That is love.

It was love beyond words, beyond logic, even beyond the boundaries of life and death. The purest love.

Cyrene felt the momentary stiffness in the body within her arms, followed by a faint tremor.

Then, in a tone like a breeze brushing across wheat fields, carrying relief, satisfaction, and endless tenderness, she softly spoke to him:

"Phaethon, allow me... once more, to state the meaning of my appearance in your life—"

"If someday the entire world abandons you, if endless loneliness devours your senses, I hope you will remember that once, by your side, there was a person. She loved you sincerely and passionately."

"I hope this love can transform into eternal starlight, bringing you the courage to face anything, helping you walk through any difficulty. I, Cyrene, have never regretted loving you. Once upon a time, yes. Now, still yes. Future... will also be yes."

Her voice was soft yet contained an unwavering conviction:

"My eyes have never misjudged anyone. Until now, until this moment, I still believe this. Little Phaethon, meeting you is the luckiest thing... I have ever experienced in this life."

This sincere confession, like a key, gently unlocked the long-sealed door to his heart.

Seeing this scene, Phaethon of Aedes Elysiae smiled with relief and contentment.

He hesitated no longer. Stepping forward, he embraced from behind the Phaethon who was "Asterion," carrying his own answer, and the answer of all in Amphoreus regarding the "Prime Mover of Life"—Self.

"Preservation," "Love and Hate," and "Self." The three answers finally converged together, beneath thirty million amber towers standing like tombstones.

Cyrene seemed to understand, softly murmuring.

’Thou shalt witness the end of all things, before thirty million tombstones, interpret the true meaning of life’s flight.’

’But remember, thou art not the embers of thirty million lifetimes, but the morning star that leads the way.’

...

On the other side, outside the myth.

Lygus stood silently, like an eternal stone statue. The administrator panel with the highest authority over Amphoreus in his hand was flashing with increasingly urgent and piercing warning lights.

Cold system notification messages rapidly scrolled before his eyes, line by line:

[Warning! A major anomaly has occurred in the calculation process of the ’Preservation’ equation. Its core logic chain is being reorganized due to unknown circumstances!]

[Progress of the ’Preservation’ Equation: 99.76%!]

[Progress of the ’Preservation’ Equation: 99.97%!!] (Approaching theoretical limit)

[Progress of the ’Preservation’ Equation: 104.97%!!!] (Exceeded limit!)

[Progress of the ’Preservation’ Equation: 126.57%!!!]