Phaethon raised his eyes to meet Cyrene's blue gaze, filled with concern and worry. After a moment of silence, he finally responded in a low voice, "Okay."
The streets of Okhema no longer held their former bustle and prosperity. The once-crowded squares were now empty and desolate, with only a few fully-armed city guards passing by in haste, their footsteps echoing sharply in the silence.
The last rays of the setting sun stretched their shadows long, adding to the bleakness.
Cyrene held onto Phaethon's arm, speaking softly, almost aimlessly.
"The last scholars of The Grove, the surviving nobles and artisans from Janusopolis, and the people from a few other small city-states fortunate enough to have escaped the Black Tide's impact... they've all been relocated to Okhema. This is the final sanctuary now."
"Mm." Phaethon's response was soft, his eyes sweeping over the shuttered windows and doors.
"Citizens from the major city-states, whether they were formerly scholars, farmers, or merchants, have all voluntarily joined the Okhema City Guard now."
"Even children and the elderly are helping with logistics... That's why the streets are so deserted."
"Everyone... most of them, are undergoing basic combat training under the guidance of Lady Aglaea and some veterans who can no longer take to the battlefield."
Her voice carried a complex emotion, a mix of pride and heaviness.
Phaethon's gaze swept over the desolate streets and the direction of the training grounds. His thin lips pressed tightly together, he said nothing.
This city he had strived so hard to protect was now bearing down on the shoulders of every survivor, operating in a tragic, solemn manner.
"Teacher Tribbie and the other two," Cyrene continued, as if keeping the words flowing could temporarily suppress the panic in her heart,
"Are responsible for reconnaissance in three different directions, excluding Castrum Kremnos. The moment any situation arises, all of Okhema's forces will mobilize immediately, stopping the Black Tide at all costs to buy time for us... for you and Phainon to recover the remaining three Coreflames."
"Everyone... has truly worked so hard." Phaethon's voice was low, laden with an indescribable weight. This time, bought at the cost of lives, was far too heavy.
Suddenly, as if unable to restrain her emotions any longer, Cyrene finally stopped walking.
She looked up. The light from the Dawn Device outlined her slightly trembling eyelashes, and fine, crystalline tears unexpectedly welled up and spilled from her beautiful blue eyes.
"Phaethon..." her voice caught in a sob, "At the beginning... we embarked on this journey because we held a deep love for this world, right?"
She seemed to be seeking a reason from Phaethon, and from herself: a reason that could justify all the suffering they had endured.
"But why... is the world so unreasonable to us? So... cruel? We've done everything we possibly could, yet why... does Orophorus only leave the path of Re-creation open to us?"
Tears traced paths down her cheeks. "I remember you, Phainon, and Mydei... how much trouble you used to be, always quarreling, getting into mischief, flashing those carefree, unclouded smiles..."
"But why... when I see the heartbreaking steadiness in Phainon's eyes now, when I see you so silent and serious like this... why does my heart ache... so much?"
"As the older sister who watched you grow up... shouldn't I feel proud of your maturity and sense of responsibility? So why... do I just want to cry?"
"Cyrene," Phaethon looked at her red-rimmed eyes, her struggle to hold back sorrow, and felt a sharp pang in the softest part of his heart.
He tightened his grip on her hand slightly, comforting her in a low voice, his tone gentle in a way even he hadn't realized. "Perhaps... this is the price that must be paid for growing up. It's just that our price... is exceptionally heavy."
"I'm... I'm sorry." Cyrene hurriedly tried to wipe away her tears with the back of her hand, striving to smooth her emotions, forcing a smile. "I know... before challenging the Sky Titan, I shouldn't say such discouraging things, I shouldn't cry..."
But the effort was futile. The tears only flowed more fiercely, dampening the fingers Phaethon had raised to wipe them away.
"But whenever I think about it... about the revealed truth of the cycle, I can't help but be afraid..."
Her voice was full of fear. "If we, the Chrysos Heirs who inherit the Coreflames, truly become the Titans of the next world... becoming distant, indistinct, speaking in incomprehensible tongues, like the Titans of now..."
She lifted her tear-filled eyes, asking the question that kept her awake at night: "What about you? Little Phaethon? Will there be a place for you in the new world? If we all become like that... won't you... feel terribly alone?"
As if afraid of the answer, she hurriedly took something from her robe and placed it solemnly in Phaethon's hand.
It was a thick, hand-bound notebook. The cover was neatly inscribed with the title: "A Study of Titan Language Origins & Comprehensive Guide to Common Tongue Translation."
Phaethon opened it. Inside were densely packed, exquisitely neat characters, accompanied by detailed grammatical analyses and example sentences. Every page was imbued with immense effort. Clearly, Cyrene had written all of this.
"Phaethon," her voice trembled with held-back tears. "This is what I've compiled from my own memories... there may still be many mistakes and omissions, but you must study it well. If there's anything you don't understand... you must come ask me immediately, while I... while I can still explain it to you..."
Phaethon carefully tucked the weighty notebook close to his chest.
He looked at her, trying to make his smile appear warmer, more reassuring. "Don't worry, Cyrene. I will study it diligently. I won't overlook a single word."
He even attempted a lighter tone, joking, "Think about it. In the new world, I'll know so many Titans—"
"The Titan of Romance mended my clothes, the Titan of Reason is my teacher, the Titan of Death is my friend, the Titan of Time is my childhood companion, the Worldbearing Titan is my brother... I'd definitely be the ultimate 'connections king.' Who would dare let me feel lonely?"
Cyrene looked at his forced cheerfulness, torn between wanting to cry and being unable to suppress a laugh, her emotions a complex mix that made her nose ache.
Phaethon gazed gently at her tear-streaked, laughing face. But in the deepest depths of his eyes lay an inexpressible, profound apology.
He couldn't tell her the full truth of the cycle. He couldn't reveal the plan. The fewer who knew the truth, the more convincing the grand performance staged against "Fate" itself would be.
And all this concealment and burden were for everyone... to have a better tomorrow, a tomorrow without the Black Tide.
It had to be this way. Right...?