The golden divine flame that consumed everything dissipated.
The world did not return to darkness.
Phainon found himself standing in an boundless wheat field.
There was no sky, no boundaries, only an endless expanse of gold, surging in the wind.
The scent of earth was in the wind.
In the distance, beneath a solitary giant tree, a figure sat quietly.
Phainon walked over.
With every step he took, the heavy reflection of three billion reincarnations behind him shattered a little.
As he approached, the figure beneath the tree slowly rose and turned around.
It was Cyrene.
She wore a pure white, wedding dress-like gown, standing gracefully, mature and elegant.
Her eyes were still clear, her smile still warm, but within that warmth, time more ancient than the stars had settled.
She said nothing, only looked at him quietly, and extended her hand to him.
A silent invitation.
Phainon grasped it in silence.
The touch was warm and moist, not corporeal, yet it comforted his soul more than any real warmth.
A flawless ring condensed in Phainon's palm.
He placed the ring on Cyrene's ring finger, "This is my everything."
Cyrene gazed at the faint glow on her finger and smiled, "Now, would you like to dance with me?"
Phainon did not answer.
He gave his answer through his actions.
Cyrene's right hand gently rested on his left shoulder, and his right hand was carefully placed on her waist.
There was no music.
Their rhythm was the breath of the wind, the swaying of the wheat, the heartbeat of the world.
As he took the first step, Phainon's dance moves were a bit stiff.
His body, which had carried eight hundred million embers, had long forgotten how to be light.
But with Cyrene leading him, his tensed shoulders gradually relaxed under her gentle strength.
A spin.
Phainon felt his body becoming lighter than ever before, as if the weight that had crushed gods was peeling away, piece by piece.
"Look."
Cyrene's voice softly echoed in his ear, her eyes reflecting Phainon's face.
"The entanglement of love and hate can also blossom into a heart's core."
Phainon looked down and saw the swaying golden wheat waves at his feet, and saw flowers.
"This time, will you be alone again?" Cyrene looked up, revealing a smile that was more heartbreaking than tears.
Phainon's dance steps did not stop.
He gazed into her eyes, using all his remaining strength, tilted his head slightly, and squeezed out an equally gentle smile,
"Smile, okay?"
The dance was nearing their end.
Phainon's body had become almost gray, his presence so faint that the next gust of wind could scatter him.
His body had already turned to ash.
"I think I need to sleep for a while."
He said, his voice as light as a sigh.
Cyrene stopped dancing, tears sparkling in her eyes, but a most gentle smile bloomed on her face,
"When you wake up, it will be tomorrow."
"Mm..." Phainon slowly released her hand.
He staggered, step by step, walking towards the solitary large tree.
He remembered many people.
He remembered the stubborn-eyed Stelle when they first met, her eyes brighter than a constant star.
He remembered Dan Heng, who was always silent but always stood at the forefront.
He remembered March 7th, who loved to cry and laugh, and would be happy all day for a single photo.
He remembered Uncle Yang, he remembered Himeko, he remembered the Conductor who mended for him.
These memories were the warmest luggage at the end of his journey.
He used the power of Elation one last time.
Beneath that large tree, a simple chair appeared out of thin air.
It was like the chairs commonly seen at street food stalls before his transmigration, filled with the mundane atmosphere of cheap beer and grilled skewers.
The chair emanated warmth like the sun.
Phainon slowly and solemnly sat down.
He took one last look at the world full of wheat, his gaze piercing through the void, seeing the Astral Express gradually moving away.
Then.
He lowered his head.
Slowly closed his eyes.
He was like a traveler who had journeyed billions of light-years, finally returning to his homeland called Earth, resting his head on the sunlight, and falling peacefully asleep.
In the last moments of his consciousness, he returned to a hot summer day, where he and his two good brothers were sitting on the street, drinking iced beer, boasting, and dreaming of an unreachable future.
"Hey, Phainon, we're waiting for you!"
"The dishes are almost finished, why are you just arriving? Boss, bring the menu over!"
The wind blew over the newborn world.
In the wind, his last unspoken whisper drifted.
"On my behalf... go see tomorrow's scenery."
...But, just then.
A note, bearing the language of the end, slowly slipped from his pocket.
The last sentence on it emitted a ray of light.
"Ultimately, you will... meet me again..."
"— Elio."