"My... heart?" Phainon murmured in repetition.
"Mmm..." Cyrene gazed at him tenderly. "Think of that half... the one that has guided you, accompanied you, and also stung you from the very beginning..."
"That half... of the 'Deliverer'... card?" Phainon's voice carried a barely perceptible tremor as he closed his eyes in pain.
"Cyrene, it's truly ironic," Phainon's voice was filled with bitterness.
"To this day... I still don't dare to truly look directly at everything that half-card carries, let alone accept its so-called guidance!
Just the thought... the thought of my homeland being utterly devoured by the Black Tide before my eyes makes my hands shake uncontrollably!
I can't forget that fire that incinerated everything, I can't forget Livia's desperate cries... And I was right there, yet I could do nothing!
I couldn't protect... anything at all..."
"Don't be afraid... Phainon," Cyrene's voice was gentle yet firm. "You actually... already have the answer, don't you? If that half-card is your final choice, I will support you."
"The past... is indeed unbearably heavy. I too miss everything about Aedes Elysiae, that golden wheat field, that creaking swing, those little fairies whom I will never... ever see again..." A flicker of sorrow passed through Cyrene's eyes.
"But, Phainon," she gazed into his eyes, "if you wish to grow from a helpless child into a hero who can shoulder everything...
You cannot merely treat the heavy past as a counterweight... You must also place the weight of the 'future' upon this scale of fate."
"The future... is it?" The confusion in Phainon's eyes gradually dissipated, replaced by an unprecedented clarity and resolve.
He took a deep breath. "I understand, Cyrene." Without further hesitation, with a solemn motion, he retrieved that half of the 'Deliverer' card from the inner pocket against his chest.
"Something heavier than the fate of the world... is the resolve to carry an unchangeable past and bear it forward into the future!"
As his words fell, with utmost solemnity, he gently placed that half of the 'Deliverer' card onto one of the trays of the golden balance.
The moment that half-card touched the cold golden tray—
"Whoosh—"
A card shimmering with a white-gold light was casually tossed by Phaethon. It tumbled and spun through the air before landing lightly beside the half 'Deliverer' card Phainon had placed!
"Brother?!" Phainon's head snapped up, looking at Phaethon with disbelief, his eyes filled with shock and confusion.
"Tch, watching you dawdle and only put down half a card,"
Phaethon had his hands in his pockets, wearing his usual, nonchalant, teasing smile, "I figured, how could the weight of just half a card possibly outweigh the treasured ring of an entire clan?
Not heavy enough! So... I'll add another half for you."
Yet, the instant his words fell, the irreverence faded from his face.
"Something heavier than the fate of the world... My answer is—the fate... of every single person in this world."
...
Trinnon's ethereal voice echoed through the grand yet silent core area of the tripartite Hall, like a stone cast into an ancient well, stirring invisible ripples.
"Fair and just Talanton... The gladiators have presented their choices..."
"Now, in the name of the holy maiden of Janusopolis; I ask you—lower the sacred scales! Weigh the substance of this fate! For us... reveal your final judgment!"
The entire hall fell into a deathly silence, as if even the falling dust had frozen solid.
"Huff... huff..." Only the heavy, suppressed breaths of a few individuals remained distinct within the vast space, weaving a web of tension.
Phaethon's gaze rested on Phainon's somewhat slender yet straight back, his heart churning soundlessly:
*You still made this choice, didn't you? Phaethon?*
*You should have known... from the moment you got involved with Cyrene, from the moment you... started caring about Phainon... As long as a shred of affection for this world remained in your heart, you could never completely evade this responsibility.*
*That reckless charge out of the city to challenge Mydei alone, was it really to stop the war?*
*No, that was more like... forcing your own hand. A catalyst to accelerate the plot, forcing yourself, standing at the crossroads of fate, to stop hesitating and make that choice... the one you actually already had the answer to deep down.*
*Yes, I won't run anymore!* An unprecedented resolve surged within him.
*Why must one's change only seem justified after losing loved ones, after being heartbroken?*
*This isn't some trashy third-rate novel! Does it need to rely on stabbing readers to grab attention? And what era is this, still using that clichéd 'only appreciate after losing it' trope?*
*I cherish them enough—right now! At this moment! I cherish this brother who always tries to act tough, I cherish that warm Cyrene, I cherish those noisy but genuinely alive companions... I don't want to lose a single one!*
*So... to hell with Eternal Recurrence, to hell with endless cycles! I will protect everything I cherish, even if... it requires me to save the whole world!*
Just as the storm raged within Phaethon, Trinnon spoke again, her voice carrying a barely perceptible tremor:
"Talanton is deliberating the verdict... It seems the convictions on both sides... are so... evenly matched."
The central pivot of the balance, the pointer symbolizing absolute equilibrium, was trembling with an almost imperceptible slowness and difficulty.
This brief stalemate made the air almost coagulate into a solid, every breath heavy enough to tug at heart and lungs.
Suddenly!
An immense will, indescribable in its origin, abruptly descended! It was not a sound, yet it reverberated directly within the soul of every living being.
Trinnon translated softly:
"Listen Carefully, O Son of Humanity:"
"I shall proclaim the judgment—"
"A verdict has been reached!"
The massive tray, symbolizing Mydei's conviction, began to rise... exceedingly slowly, yet with unwavering certainty!