In stark contrast, the tray bearing the twins' choice—those two 'Deliverer' cards shimmering with white-gold light—descended as if pressed down by the hand of fate, steady and solemn!
"The one whose offering is heavier than the fate of the world is thus—"
The majestic will descended like a final hammer of judgment:
"...the one who comes from Aedes Elysiae, the nameless hero."
The verdict was set!
But then, the majestic will did not immediately dissipate. Instead, like a grand bell tolling, it resonated once more within everyone's hearts, carrying a deeper, more thought-provoking maxim:
"Yet, remember—"
"The weight of conviction does not stem from itself—"
"But lies within the long-cherished wish of that which presses down the scale!"
The golden light slowly withdrew, the balance's movement ceased, finally coming to rest. The sacred pressure receded like a tide, leaving only reverberating shockwaves within the hall.
"This... what does this mean?! Wait, Phaethon?" Mydei took a heavy step forward, his bronze-colored face contorted by shock, reluctance, and immense disappointment.
"You two... hmph! A loss is a loss! But this judgment... I don't accept it! What does 'the wish itself' mean?"
*Mydei: Children, we've been played by Okhema. The other side fielded two people.*
He couldn't comprehend this abstract verdict. His clan's treasured heirloom, his warrior's honor, had actually lost in "weight" to... two tattered cards?
Tribbie's figure quietly materialized. Her gaze was clear, as if seeing through Mydei's confusion and anger, her voice calm as she explained:
"I believe, the great Talanton is saying: what is heavier than the fate of the world is not how fiercely the fire of conviction burns within an individual's heart..."
Trinnon's voice continued like an echo, filled with insightful gentleness: "...but rather the wish that conviction carries, responds to... a wish that transcends the individual, connecting to the souls of all living beings.
It belongs to you, to me, to every being struggling in this end of days, every soul yearning for light and salvation."
Her gaze swept over Phainon and Phaethon. "What pressed down the scale was not merely Phainon's resolve to bear the past, nor Phaethon's seemingly casual addition..."
"But the entire world's... call for the 'Deliverer's'—"
"Descent."
"And within that—" Phaethon spoke word by word, each syllable seeming to carry the weight of a thousand jun,
"Includes you, Mydei—and the call... of Castrum Kremnos's countless people."
Mydei's built frame shuddered violently, as if struck by an invisible hammer.
"...Hmph! So you chose... to stake the weight of both sides?"
His gaze swept over Phaethon and Phainon, these words filled with complex emotions.
The solemnity of the temple's core area was broken by a series of light yet undeniable footsteps.
Aglaea's figure gracefully manifested from the flowing light and shadow.
Hyacine followed closely, half a step behind her.
Aglaea's gaze swept over the now-settled golden balance, finally resting on Mydei, Phainon, and Phaethon, a near-perfect smile playing on her lips.
"A splendid answer."
"Just as the prophecy foretold: 'The flame-chase journey shall welcome its final two... no, three heroes this day.'"
Mydei's built frame remained with arms crossed over his chest, like a silent mountain.
His sharp gaze locked onto Aglaea, a meaningful, indistinct snort escaping him, carrying a warrior's directness and a trace of complex emotion at being seen through:
"...Hah, so your target was me and them from the very beginning."
Mydei's gaze swept over Phainon and Phaethon.
"People say the 'Golden-Weave' young lady doesn't know her limits, but you're the first to try use a prophecy to persuade a warrior of Castrum Kremnos."
The smile on Aglaea's face seemed to deepen slightly, even taking on a rare, almost "humanized" lightness and pleasure.
Her slender fingers elegantly interlaced before her, her voice soft yet carrying undeniable strength:
"To bind a lion, I have a thousand methods." Her gaze met Mydei's frankly.
"But the lion before us did not come for slaughter in the first place, did he not?"
Hyacine took a light half-step forward at the opportune moment. Her bright eyes sparkled with playful light, her gaze shifting between Mydei and Aglaea:
"Hah, the disparity in strength between Okhema's soldiers and the Kremnoan Detachment is vast, yet not a single casualty on our side occurred before Phaethon left the city. This is hardly a coincidence."
Mydei's brows furrowed imperceptibly, the muscles in his crossed arms seeming to tense further.
His low voice held a warrior's pride and a touch of anger at being questioned:
"Do you truly believe the battle-loving people of Castrum Kremnos would show mercy?"
Trinnon, who had been quietly observing, now intervened the conversation as gently as moonlight.
Her voice was ethereal and calm, yet carried insight that reached the heart of the matter:
"But the Kremnoan Detachment is also renowned for its strict military discipline." Her clear gaze rested on Mydei, as if stating a self-evident truth:
"We can only assume this was your order."
Mydei's tensed muscles seemed to relax a fraction.
He took a deep look at Trinnon, then swept his gaze over Aglaea, Hyacine, as well as Phainon, Phaethon, and Cyrene present.
Finally, he slowly nodded, his voice low and solemn:
"It seems Okhema is not as pedantic as the rumors say." His gaze swept over everyone, finally settling on Aglaea:
"Compared to the Council of Elders in the Holy City, those present here understand the essence of power better."
The tense atmosphere seemed to melt a way completely with Mydei's words.
The smile on Aglaea's lips finally blossomed.
She gracefully extended an arm, making an inviting gesture, her voice carrying an unprecedented softness and anticipation:
"Fate has already been fulfilled. Why don't we host a feast to welcome our guests and add another stroke to this encounter?"
Her gaze passed over Mydei, Phainon, and Phaethon in turn, as if inviting them to step into a new chapter:
"Please, follow me, three warriors from afar—" Her voice was like an ode, carrying a strange cohesive force, her gaze seeming to penetrate the temple dome, looking towards the vast night sky:
"Heroes in this world are as numerous as stars, but at this moment, we are gathered together by the firelight of the long night..."
Phaethon withdrew his gaze from Aglaea's direction, seeming to lack interest in that grand narrative of "stars" and "firelight."
He lazily raised a hand, patting the shoulder of Cyrene beside him, who was still thoughtfully watching Phainon and Mydei, his tone returning to its usual relaxed time:
"Stop looking, Cyrene. Time for the party."
Cyrene, jolted back to awareness by his pat, looked at Phaethon's expression of "finally done, time to eat" and couldn't help but shake her head with a resigned smile:
"Phaethon, you... ah, never mind," She turned to Phainon, her voice gentle and relieved:
"Phainon, Phaethon is right. After making such a difficult choice, we deserve to relax properly. ♪"