"Where is this?"
Phainon surveyed his surroundings.
Or rather, he tried to "survey."
There were no surroundings here.
The concepts of up, down, left, and right were stripped away; the distinctions of light, dark, cold, and warm had vanished.
"Existence" itself became a dream on the verge of shattering.
His hair had, at some unknown point, faded back to pure black.
It was the original base color before everything was borne.
Beneath his feet was an indescribable plane, cold, hard, yet devoid of any "texture."
It was a graveyard of concepts.
"This is nothingness; all is meaningless."
An ethereal female voice echoed from all directions, yet also seemed to resound directly within his mind.
Phainon turned.
A familiar yet unfamiliar figure stood in the void.
Dreamlike bubbles encircled her, coalescing into a shimmering, starry, dark purple skirt.
On her flat abdomen, an unceasing tide was the only oceanic mark on her body.
It was the first surge of wind and waves she stirred at the dawn of her myth, still ebbing and flowing, singing an ancient ballad.
Asymmetrical black shoulder armor covered her graceful shoulder lines.
Her purple long hair was a deep, placid night sea.
The Ocean Demigod, Hysilens.
"Hysilens?"
Phainon's consciousness still retained the agony of being crushed.
"Your presence here means I have already stepped into nothingness."
"Yes, we meet again, nameless swordsman." Hysilens nodded slightly.
Phainon subconsciously probed the power within him, but only sensed a dead, empty void.
That body, burned to their limit, along with the authority stolen by fire, had vanished.
"What happened?"
"The old body has been filled with 'Gluttony' and 'Nothingness.'"
Hysilens's voice was unruffled.
"You came here precisely to reclaim your new meaning."
As her words fell, Hysilens's figure slowly floated upwards.
"May my song illuminate your path."
A melodious song spread.
There were no lyrics, no melody, just a soft hum.
The sound was like a key, prying open the deepest door of the soul.
The absolute "nothingness" before him began to collapse, reconstructing itself into a long path of musical notes.
Phainon followed the guidance of the song, walking forward.
At the end of the path, a figure was curled up.
The figure was so broken as to be shapeless; every inch of their flesh had been incinerated by the embers, every wisp of their aura permeated with despair.
The source of the reincarnation memories—Khaslana.
He walked up to the other person; that face, identical to his own, was already like shattered pottery, with flames gushing out from within.
"It's you?" Phainon asked softly.
Khaslana slowly raised his head, and in the instant his dead-gray eyes saw Phainon, a faint spark finally ignited—a golden figure.
"You finally… came…"
His voice was a dry, rusty syllable.
"…I'm sorry."
"No need to apologize." Phainon sat down beside him.
Like two travelers who had journeyed for billions of light-years, finally meeting at the end of the universe.
"It was my own decision to embark on this path, it has nothing to do with you."
"I am also Phainon, a Phainon from another world."
He spoke calmly.
"Erudition calculated everything. He knew that no matter which 'Phainon,' he would eventually set off to save Amphoreus."
"But His calculations ultimately missed one variable."
"The brilliance of humanity."
"Initially, the memories of transmigration and reincarnation tore at me, making me unable to find myself. But ever since Nanook's golden blood merged into my body, I have been me."
"No matter who I once was, no matter whether I was a pawn or not, the answer of 'Phainon' remains consistent."
Phainon's voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable weight, "I will never bow to Him."
Khaslana turned his face, his scarred countenance actually twisting into a distorted smile, and the golden figure gradually became clearer.
It was a face no different from his own; Scalegorge Waterscape, Sleepless Tea, the encounters in dreams—they were all himself.
"So… the hero… himself…"
"Come." Phainon stood up, extending his hand to him, "Go and fulfill Phainon's destiny."
Hearing this.
In Khaslana's hand, a ceremonial sword condensed, as if he wanted to repeat the sorrowful inheritance from reincarnation.
Phainon smiled, directly interrupting him, "The stabbing drama is too old-fashioned, it doesn't suit me."
His hand remained extended, palm upwards.
"Let's just shake hands simply."
Khaslana was stunned, and then, a hint of relief appeared in his hollow eyes.
He struggled to raise his hand, but just before touching, he suddenly stopped.
"Can I… ask one last question?"
Phainon nodded: "Mm."
In Khaslana's eyes, an unprecedented stubbornness flickered.
"Is yellow and purple… really… not good-looking?"
Phainon looked at him, his gaze incredibly firm!
"No."
"Yellow and purple are a perfect match!!!"
The next moment, two hands, spanning the distance of thirty million reincarnations, clasped tightly together.
Buzz—
An indescribably grand will cast a glance from a corner of the universe.
—Harmony: Xipe.
Phainon's body reconstructed!
His black hair was dyed with a cool, frosty white, and his shattered soul was completely mended.
An unprecedented sense of completeness and coordination filled his every thought.
The thirty million reincarnations of Phainon resonated simultaneously!
He stood up, everything restored to their original state.
No, it was far better than before.
In the depths of his consciousness, the long-unseen light screen flickered wildly, popping up unreadable gibberish.
[▇ ▇: ▇ ▇ & ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇]
[▇ ▇: ▇ ▇, ▇ ▇, ▇ ▇, ▇ ▇, ▇ ▇, ▇ ▇]
[▇ ▇: ▇ ▇]
[▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇: ∞]
The anti-memetic erasure had begun.
However, just then.
A gentle and refined voice sounded behind him.
"What a pity."
Anaxa's figure emerged, yet there was no trace of regret on his face.
"To step into the realm of a demigod only to be forgotten by the world—that truly is the ultimate knowledge paradox."
"Deliverer." Mydei flexed his wrists, his joints popping, his fighting intent almost materializing, "What are we waiting for? Let's just fight our way out!"
"Deliverer kid." Cipher's figure followed closely, her cat ears playfully twitching, "Everyone outside is still having sweet dreams."
Hysilens also quietly came to Phainon's side, softly saying: "The opportunity to break the deadlock might be now."
Phainon listened quietly, then slowly uttered two words.
"Wait."
As soon as his words fell.
Three giant paper airplanes flapped their wings, breaking through the dense fog of nothingness, slowly flying over.
Three almost identical figures leaped from the paper airplanes, landing steadily in front of Phainon.
"Phai-Chan."
"Little Phai-Chan."
"Phai-Chan…"
Tribbie, Trianne, Trinnon.
They said in unison, "Long time no see!"
Phainon nodded slightly, his gaze as calm as an abyss, "Teacher Tribbie… long time no see."
Anaxa looked at them, a hint of understanding flashing in his eyes: "Ms. Tribios, it seems the pathway to reality is also ready. I just didn't expect you would ultimately choose to become like this."
"Of course!" Trianne put her hands on her hips, proudly announcing, "We rushed here precisely to accompany Phai-Chan in opening the door to 'tomorrow'!"
The next moment, the three-in-one Chrysos Heirs simultaneously extended their hands.
Their powers intertwined and resonated, opening a Hundred Realm Gate in the void, leading to the Festive Star!
Behind the gate was Penacony's familiar, dazzling, false sky.
"Let's go," their voices merged again, transforming into the gentlest yet firmest declaration.
"We will accompany Phai-Chan to witness the true 'tomorrow.'"
"But before that…" Phainon's gaze pierced through the doorway, "we need to wake everyone from this long dream."
He knew that the moment he stepped through this door, the anti-meme would completely detonate.
But there were no longer any worries in his heart.
The curse of thirty million reincarnations was now his sharpest blade.
And now, he was no longer alone.
Phainon turned around, seven figures stood solemnly behind him.
He took a step, leading his companions, and resolutely stepped into that brilliant curtain of light.
———————
(T/N): ABSOLUTE CINEMA