“Final? Perhaps you're more suited to being a teacher's assistant.”^[1]
There were once those who misunderstood his alias,

Final…
An eventuality for students, a test for knowledge gained.

It may bring wisdom to light and illuminate efforts,
But the word's more common meaning,
Is nothing less than the end.

“That's quite ominous.”
The man pretend to be surprised, and responded with a smile:
“Though, it does dovetail with our destiny.”

Laughter resounds —
The man walks the land,
Leaving footprints filled with joy.

Despite the weight of the past,
He can always laugh it away.
Those nearby glance at each other,
Unsure of how to respond.

“Perhaps I was just born easygoing.”
His explanation is just as carefree —

“Look at Mydei and Professor Anaxa.
Boys all grow up into serious adults.”

“But as long as I keep smiling,
Okhema will always have an upbeat, shining young man.”

Though having said that,
He too has quiet moments.

Each time he gazed long toward the coming dawn,
A smile remained fixed on his lips,
Paying no mind to anything else.

His eyes were painted with the azure of the sky,
Gaze fixed on the Titan bearing the world.

“I was just imagining,”
He explained his own trance in a comment,
“Kephale too was once in mortal flesh and ramiment.”

Now, when the man comes with sword in hand,
There is no need to doubt he will swiftly win victory.

But his smile is pure,
Ever since the start of the journey,
He is still called a “youth” in this story.

Youth is always ambitious, with lofty goals,
But it seems that in the man's heart, only the wishes of others are held.

“Apart from the ideal of deliverance, what do you have left?”^[2]
The golden-haired friend once asked him so.

He remained silent,
Then, as he was wont to do,
He simply smiled.

“As long as I don't ask for too much…
Everything will unfold as desired.”

In Amphoreus,
Untitled statues are a prevalent sight.

As for the inspiration behind these statues,
They are said to be the clay figures that Kephale made at the world's creation.

They made clay figures in their likeness…
Bestowed upon them the breath of life,
And allowed the golden divinity of their blood to course through.

Thus —
The very first mortals roamed the earth,
Receiving the gods' mercy,
While realizing the sorrows of this world.

But that sorrow was, in the end…
Only the sorrow of the world.

Nobody ever cared…
What lay behind the smile,
What the clay figure thought.