And that's not all. While slaying the Titan, he had conveniently blasted two-thirds of their ancestral home into oblivion, even leaving behind a landmark crater.
During this time, he had also apparently "conveniently" used the Infinity Gates to spirit away a significant amount of high-quality rare ore from the mines near their homeland.
Moreover, he had brazenly commandeered their racial treasure, the Blade of Fury, treating it like a personal toy to manipulate at will...
*Hiss—*
Phaethon drew in a sharp breath. Laying it all out, item by item, a powerful surge of emotions he could only name as "guilt" and "sheepishness" welled up in his heart.
He now felt that Mydei's attitude toward him... was even more tolerant than Phainon's! This level of forbearance was practically sky-high!
After all these messes, Mydei could still speak to him calmly, and even "objectively and fairly" recommend him to Aglaea to inherit this precious Demigod position?
Thank goodness this is reality!
If this were in those popular novels, after all the terrible things he'd done to him, if the two of them didn't have some sort of relationship beyond friendship going on behind the scenes... the readers probably wouldn't buy it!
He'd almost rather suspect that Mydei refused the Coreflame not out of objective consideration, but as a form of revenge against him.
Watching the ever-changing, complex expressions on Phaethon's face—shock, guilt, deep self-doubt—Aglaea sighed helplessly once more.
"So... what is your decision, Phaethon?"
...
Vortex of Genesis.
"So this is the Vortex of Genesis? I've never been here before," Phaethon said, gazing at the magnificent spectacle of swirling star streams.
"Are you truly prepared to undergo the Trial, Phaethon?" Trinnon asked calmly.
"I think... I am ready," Phaethon replied, meeting the concerned gazes of Cyrene, Phainon, and the others before nodding.
"Recite with us, little Phaethon," Trinnon said, spreading her palms and beginning to recite the Forging Words.
Phaethon and Trinnon: "O solemn Twelve Titans, pillars upholding the world—"
"We beseech divinity here, to mend the world's fissures—"
"Infusing mortal flesh with Golden Blood, for the Prophecy we willingly parch and wither..."
"Er... I don't think I have Golden Blood?" Phaethon suddenly realized, looking at Trinnon.
"..." Trinnon was silent for a moment before answering. "Those words are merely to make the prayer sound more solemn. Please focus... Offer the Coreflame of Strife."
...
"Phainon, do you think... little Phaethon can succeed?" Cyrene's fingers unconsciously twisted the hem of her clothes, her pink eyes brimming with obvious worry.
Phainon stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall, his resolute face also carrying a trace of solemnity. After a moment of silence, he spoke slowly:
"I don't know what the so-called 'Strife' Trial entails. If it's a contest of pure destructive power, even ten resurrected Nikadors wouldn't be enough for Phaethon to handle."
He paused, his brow slightly furrowed. "But... a divine Trial, especially one involving a concept like 'Strife,' likely won't be that simple. It often targets the most fragile parts of one's heart."
Phainon looked at Cyrene, his tone softening. "However, no matter what. As family, all we can do is believe in him and pray for his safe return."
...
Phaethon opened his eyes within an endless, heart-palpitating, blinding crimson glow.
This red light was not warm or blazing, but rather filled with a cold, almost tangible aura, as if condensed from countless conflicts, pains, and despairs, pressing down until it was hard to breathe.
He found himself standing in a void. The scenes around him flickered and reassembled like shattered mirrors—
He saw Cyrene, protecting a child, being swallowed by the Black Tide, her pink silhouette dissolving silently into the darkness, leaving only an unfinished cry.
He saw Phainon roaring as he charged into an endless tide of monsters, his tall figure eventually submerged, falling silent, with only his familiar weapon broken on the ground.
He saw Mydei holding a defensive line until the final moment, his back wounded, his body shattered.
He saw Castorice, Hyacine, Teacher Tribbie, Aglaea, the villagers of Aedes Elysia, his own parents... one familiar figure after another "dying" before his eyes in various tragic ways.
Emotions of pain, fear, resentment, and despair surged like tangible waves, frantically impacting his senses alongside those images.
A cold and grand voice, as if composed of countless roars and lamentations, echoed directly within the depths of his consciousness:
「You are afraid, aren't you?」
「You fear their deaths. You fear that everything you cherish, everything you care about, will ultimately fade away before your eyes, and you... will be powerless.」
Phaethon's pupils contracted slightly, but then he let out a derisive snort, his voice unnaturally clear in this crimson space:
"Hah. The Trial of Strife... and this is all it's got? Playing a clumsy, pre-scripted death montage? Truly... lacking any originality."
He even had the spare attention to discreetly glance into the depths of his consciousness—a system interface only he could perceive. It was now completely inert, utterly silent.
*'As expected...'* Phaethon understood. After watching some of Okhema's films and even historical documentaries, he had long suspected that the activation of his system ability was strictly bound to the key element of "retrospective memories."
These trial-simulated "future" phantoms, constructed from his existing knowledge and fears, were not real "experiences" in essence and could not trigger the system's recording and filing mechanisms.
This confirmed one of his conjectures, but also birthed a new doubt:
The confirmed conjecture concerned his system: while "Memory" might not be its core essence, "Memory" was definitely involved in its function!
As for the doubt... Phaethon now suspected that the system in his mind and the thing in his mind calling itself the "Cheat Device" were very likely not the same thing! The sense of disconnect was too strong!
Did it (?) ever seem to care about so-called "Aeons"?
And hadn't it also complained about the system being too lousy? Would anyone really insult themselves like that?
So... the relationship between the System and the Cheat Device might be far more complex than Phaethon had assumed.
The cold voice paused briefly. When it sounded again, it remained calm:
「Trial-taker, you are composed, even what one might call cold. Even amidst a Trial saturated with such intense 'Strife,' you maintain a rare, undisturbed rationality. However...」
The voice suddenly turned sharp and biting:
「This excessive composure will ultimately bury you completely! You may continue to deceive yourself, claiming these before you are merely useless phantoms, that what I show you are false deaths!」
「But all I have done is to let you see in advance the manner of their demise!」
「So that when that moment truly arrives, your vision won't be blurred by tears of powerlessness and agony, preventing you from seeing their final forms clearly!」