He would define a rule: "No energy may gather here." Talanton would immediately append an edict: "All energy must heed his command."
He attempted to "deprive the opponent of one-tenth of their authority." Talanton would counter with a move: "This deprivation order is void and rebounds upon the issuer."
Taught by the same master, there was simply no breaking through!
As for employing other means of attack?
Phaethon had no doubt that if he dared to use even a bit of "underhanded tricks" outside his 'Law' authority—like trying to summon heavenly fire or playing some petty game with another power—
Talanton would absolutely dare to immediately invoke the highest authority, permanently "banning" those methods, adding them to the 'Law' blacklist, rendering them fundamentally ineffective!
While Phaethon could also use his authority to "unban" them from the banned list.
But right now, the situation was like two supremely intelligent people playing a game of tic-tac-toe, each move blocking all of the other's possible paths to victory.
As long as neither side made a stupid mistake, this game could go on until the end of time, with no winner ever emerging.
The only silver lining was that Phaethon, this "player," did not rely on a traditional energy supply.
Whereas that Titan avatar opposite him, dependent on the hall and ancient rules... if the stalemate continued, the divine power sustaining its existence would eventually run dry.
So... Phaethon's tactic was simple, and also quite helpless: outlast! Grind Talanton down until his divine power was exhausted, and then...
Just as he was fully focused on this monotonous yet perilous rules-based tug-of-war, a voice—definitely not the usual cold, mechanical prompt—spoke directly into the depths of his mind, utterly without warning:
I say, how much longer are you going to play this childish game with it?
Phaethon jolted violently, his mind reeling, nearly letting a rule loophole slip to his opponent due to that momentary distraction! That tone...?
Had the sun risen in the west? Today, instead of the emotionless system prompt, it was the "golden finger" itself—the one containing a hint of "humanity" yet almost never actively appearing—speaking to him?
Wasn't this the first time this "golden finger" had actively initiated a true "conversation" with him?
"Phaethon, what are you waiting for? Why haven't you revoked its permission to invoke the "Ultimate Protocol"?!
The voice carried an indescribable sense of... disdain?
'What... revoke?' Phaethon retorted inwardly in astonishment, almost thinking he was hallucinating.
"Ultimate Protocol"? Since when could I revoke it?
The "Ultimate Protocol" has always been... Wait. The golden finger's voice abruptly stopped, seeming to realize a key issue, its tone becoming somewhat hesitant and subtle.
"The "Ultimate Protocol" itself... has always been on you! The Titan of 'Law' only possesses secondary usage rights!"
"You can directly blacklist this Talanton in front of you, denying it access, or simply downgrade its permissions... Uh..."
The voice grew smaller and smaller, finally carrying a hint of guilt:
"...Did I, back then, not tell you about this?"
Phaethon fell silent.
He finally understood why, in this cycle, his outdated 'Law' authority from the previous cycle was still usable.
He originally thought it was due to the golden finger's special nature allowing him to ignore such restrictions. Turns out, it was because the so-called "Ultimate Protocol" had never left him.
And now he knew why, in this cycle, that persistent ghost "Lygus" hadn't tampered with 'Law' to create trouble for him like before.
After all this time, it wasn't because the other had given up, but because the "Ultimate Protocol"—the very "core" of 'Law'—was in his own hands all along! The other party had no way to interfere!
And his golden finger, at this critical moment, seemed to have suddenly remembered, casually dropping this bombshell.
The "golden finger" in Phaethon's mind also fell into simultaneous silence.
It too seemed to be rapidly reviewing past data streams, then awkwardly realizing... during some chaotic phase, it seemed, possibly, probably... truly did omit this crucial piece of information, forgetting to inform its host about the existence of the "Ultimate Protocol."
Having learned that the authority of the "Ultimate Protocol" was within himself all along, Phaethon completely dropped the act.
The previously seemingly unsolvable rule-based slugfest, which could only be won by outlasting, instantly turned into an utter joke.
With a mere thought, without needing any words, just an extremely simple command in the depths of his consciousness—
The Titan of 'Law,' Talanton, who was gathering vast divine power for the next round of rule-based counterattack, found its formless will suddenly frozen!
It felt its vast, boundless connection to 'Law' severed in an instant, as if by a guillotine!
All authority, all rule-invoking permissions were completely stripped away within a ten-thousandth of a second!
It fell from a supreme existence wielding laws, instantly plummeting to earth, becoming a blank slate—possessing immense divine power yet unable to mobilize any rules, unable to exercise any "edicts into reality"...
What followed became very simple, even somewhat anticlimactic.
...
When Phaethon, holding the shimmering Coreflame of 'Law' containing endless rules and order, stepped out of the Hall of the Three Fate—now almost reduced to chaotic ruins—
The first thing that caught his eye was the blue flame atop Cerydra's head. The extraordinarily complex expression on her face was something Phaethon noticed only after lowering his gaze.
The once grand hall was now only twisted ruins and drifting energy dust. Yet he walked out of this scene of destruction, holding in his hand the most complete crystal of order. This contrast alone was enough to shake the soul.
Cerydra's gaze first fell on that brilliant Coreflame, then shifted back to Phaethon's seemingly calm face. Her voice carried a trace of disbelieving distraction: "You truly... completely ended Talanton...?"
She shook her head slightly, as if trying to shake this astounding truth from her mind. Then, taking a deep breath, her tone became exceptionally solemn:
"'Fortune Duke'... No, that title, it seems I was mistaken in bestowing it. What noble title do you desire? The 'Duke of Dawn,' symbolizing the light of daybreak? Or the 'Duke of Salvation,' bearing the hopes of all beings? Speak it, and I, in my name as the Empress, will change it for you immediately."
Upon hearing this, Phaethon merely smiled. "Just keep calling me 'Fortune Duke.' To be honest, I quite wish for my luck to be a bit better."
"If Amphoreus could become fortunate because of a name... How wonderful it would be if this world could be saved as I wish."