Sender: Cyrene
Recipient: Demiurge

*This page of story comes from the 23,570,001st Eternal Recurrence, in an eternally peaceful Aedes Elysiae. Imagine, if the prisoner of flames subjected to ceaseless suffering still resolved to protect his once pure self, even if just for once…*

The bulrush withered, the wheat fields burned, and wind chimes swayed amidst the monsters' roars.

The scorching soil burned the young man's skin. Before losing consciousness, the last thing he saw was the tall swordmaster in black raising his gleaming blade amidst the black tide…

“Phainon, Phainon… Wake up!”

“… Cyrene?”

The white-haired man startled awake beneath the shade of the tree. The sunlight spilling through the dense leaves strung his eyes. In his momentary daze, he mistakenly thought his childhood friend was standing right before him.

“Was I hearing things…? Well, I should go meet Cyrene now. Can't miss something important just because of an afternoon nap.”

Phainon stood up and dusted off the dirt on himself. After strapping on his sword, he walked toward the shore. Villagers greeted him along the way, “Hey, Phainon, want some freshly baked bread? Don't be shy.”

He knew that Livia had gotten better at baking. So, he didn't hide the bright smile on his face as he jogged over and took the bread basket.

“Mmm… Smells great! Our grapes are in the usual spot, so why don't you grab some too?”

Piso, who was working in the wheat field nearby, straightened up. “Mr Phainon, make sure you avoid the colorful bread at the bottom of the basket. That's Livia's new recipe. Even the little chimeras in the village didn't want a bite…”

“Even the little chimeras… won't eat my bread?”

Piso realized his mistake and rushed over. He dug out the colorful bread from the basket and stuffed it into his mouth. His eyes and mouth were all scrunched up as he struggled to swallow. Finally, he barely managed to utter a compliment, “… but I love it the most!”

Phainon doubled over with laughter. “Piso, you're in your forties now. Stop calling me 'Mister'.”

“No way, you are the one who protected Aedes Elysiae's peace all these years. So what if you age slower, Mr Phainon? Even when my hair turns gray and I can barely walk, I'll still call you that!”

“There are rumors outside the village about a war called Flame-Chase raging wildly. Who knows? Aquila might come crashing down any day now…”

“Even if Aquila falls, I'll help hold things together for all of you.” His sincere gaze seemed to indicate this was no empty promise.

After saying goodbye to Livia and Piso, Phainon continued towards the seaside. Humming a tune under his breath, he soon arrived at the dock.

His childhood friend's grave lay here.

The man cut away the weeds around the grave with his sword, carefully wiped away the dust form the engravings on the tombstone, and placed the bouquet before the grave. After finishing all this, he slowly took out the still-warm bread from his basket, enjoying a moment of rest while gazing out at the ocean.

The sea breeze suddenly turned fierce. On a nearby hill, the man glimpsed a figure in black, an old acquaintance with a sword, gazing in this direction. The white-haired man swallowed his bread and rushed towards the black-clad swordmaster.

Unexpectedly, this time, the figure in black didn't vanish like before, but stood their ground, waiting for his arrival. Dark waves rippled across the distant horizon. As they faced each other, the bulrush beneath the black swordmaster's feet was burning.

After a while, Phainon was the first to break the silence.

“… I've been wanting to tell you this: Thank you. Back then, you drove back the black tide and protected Aedes Elysiae. Piso, Livia, Pythias… all these years, we've always seen you as our 'Deliverer'.”

“Not… a 'Deliverer'. I am… but a prisoner of flames.”

“But I've always been on your heels,” Phainon said firmly, raising the sword in his hand, which was identical to the one wielded by the black-clad swordmaster. “Look, I had it forged by a renowned Grand Craftsman.”

The black-clad swordmaster slowly exhales. “Tell me… its name?”

“Dawnmaker!” Phainon said with a laugh. He watched as the fragmented waves drew closer to the edge of the sky. “With it, I've been protecting Aedes Elysiae from the black tide, time and time again.”

The black-clad swordmaster sighed again, muttering under his breath. “Hyacinthia… your advice, I've taken it to heart. I tried to protect my sense of self, but look… Khaslana's wish has never changed…”

“What are you talking about? The black tide is approaching from afar. Prisoner of flames… no, Nameless Hero, will you join me in protecting Aedes Elysiae?”

The black-clad swordmaster gazed at the tranquil Aedes Elysiae before him, and at the white-haired man who called him a hero — those eyes still held their pure cornflower blue.

“Wouldn't hurt. After all, it's just this once…”

Unconsciously, he held his sword across his body as a faint flame kindled in his chest. At least, for now, this flame was no longer hollow.

…