"After all... we don't want to help you because of the title 'Deliverer'.
It's because you, little Phaethon, have long since become our indispensable companion, that we stand here with you, facing all of this together. ♪"
Phaethon looked at them—at Mydei's unfeigned resolve, at the care beneath Castorice's cool exterior, at the sincerity behind Cyrene's smile.
Their eyes held no impurity, only pure, unmistakable concern and trust.
He was speechless for a moment, simply closing his eyes slowly, as if shutting out the world outside.
The icy, despairing memory belonging to Helektra collided and merged fiercely in his heart with his companions' blazing trust and expectations.
A moment later, when he opened his eyes again, the lingering trace of hesitation in their depths had not completely vanished; it still flickered uncertainly like a candle in the wind.
Yet, his body made the choice before his thoughts could—he took a firm, resolute step forward.
The sound of his footfall was light, yet seemed to strike everyone's heart.
Phaethon's voice grew calm, yet held a newly forged strength. "Not everyone... can shake off their confusion. But the steps one takes after experiencing that confusion will always be a bit firmer."
He took a deep breath and finally voiced his realization:
"I understand now: the so-called hero does not proceed only after eliminating all fear and doubt. Rather... it is one who chooses to act even while carrying a heart full of fear and countless doubts. And then, within that action, step by step, verifies, overcomes, and dispels past wavering and questions."
"Castorice, it's time to bring this journey to the underworld to a close."
Phaethon's voice was steady and firm. The aura around him and the humming greatsword "Judgment of Shamash" in his hand both adjusted to their peak state.
"Go and awaken the slumbering Pollux, retrieve the Coreflame of Death that rightfully belongs to you. We will guard the ritual."
Mydei's golden spirit fluctuated slightly. He surveyed the increasingly oppressive aura of death around them and spoke gravely:
"Our location here is the true terminus and core of the soul stream. To proceed further... even I risk being lost here.
I must depart... for the Black Tide still rages on the Kremnoan front. That battlefield cannot afford an absence."
He looked at Phaethon, his gaze piercing. "Remember your promise."
Castorice and the others nodded solemnly.
Phaethon responded, "Wait for me, Mydei. Once Castorice and I finish our business here and retrieve the Coreflame of Death, I will personally come to the Kremnoan front to relieve you and Phainon, so you may rest awhile."
Castorice took a deep breath and walked step by step toward the brightest center of the alchemical array's light.
Her voice, ethereal and resolute, echoed in the deathly silent hall. "Now... I shall use all the 'Love' and 'Connections' I have gathered in this long yet brief life as the final key... to complete this miracle that reverses life and death."
She raised her hands high above her head as if lifting something intangible, and called out in a loud voice: "I call upon you here... Netherwing Husk slumbering in the River of Souls' depths, forgotten by the world... Pollux!"
**BOOM——!**
As if answering her summons, the boundless waters of the River of Souls outside the hall suddenly boiled, surging into towering waves. Carrying countless wailing souls and pure death energy, it transformed into a pitch-black curtain that blotted out everything, crashing down towards the group within the tower!
"From earth to heaven, from heaven to earth. That which is below is as that which is above, and that which is above is as that which is below... This is the force of all forces, overcoming the subtle and penetrating the solid!"
A glint flashed in Phaethon's eyes. Without hesitation, he invoked the authority of Ocean.
The cascading torrent of the River of Souls, the moment before it touched the tower, seemed to be pressed down by an invisible giant hand, abruptly freezing in place.
Countless faint purple droplets saturated with the aura of death hung eerily suspended above Styxia, trembling, yet unable to advance another inch!
"Great work that governs all death... I shall grant you... an embrace!" Castorice completed the final rite.
In an instant, a massive, pale, bone-colored "egg" emerged from the churning river below.
More accurately, it was the coiled, self-enclosed, egg-shaped remnant of a draconic body, its head buried deep within itself!
This was—*Pollux, Netherwing Husk, Ferry of Souls*!
*CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!*
Nails-on-chalkboard sounds of splitting came from the huge, solid, pale "shell," with enormous cracks of the same scale rapidly spreading!
As streams of thick, oily blood glowing with a dark purple light gushed from the fissures, a pair of somewhat desiccated-looking, yet still suffocatingly oppressive draconic wings violently tore their way out!
One, then two.
The wings extended madly, followed by a body covered in ancient scars, a partially twisted torso, and sharp claws and feet struggling free from the shattering "egg"!
At this final moment, the incessant, mournful keening from the void grew more intense, solidifying into tangible sonic waves that assailed everyone's souls.
The deathly dragon did not lift its head from its final sanctuary, as if its last fears and vulnerabilities were hidden there.
*WOOOOO——!!!!*
With a scream that rose to its peak, filled with boundless pain and resentment, a visible, pale-white ripple erupted from its center, violently expanding outwards!
When Castorice fixed her gaze upon the Netherwing's incomplete yet powerful form, an intense wave of heartache and pity spontaneously welled up in her eyes.
Yes, she could clearly sense it. The Netherwing before her seemed to have long since burned away all its past intellect and memory, leaving only an extreme rejection of the living and a madness to attack upon seeing them!
"Maiden who once saved me, escorted me... have you truly dissipated completely? Without leaving even a single trace behind?"
Castorice's voice at this moment revealed profound sorrow, yet she still held onto a final, faint thread of hope as she addressed the suffering beast.
But the answer was yet another, more frenzied, incomprehensible wail, full of chaos and agony.
However, a glimmer of light flashed in Castorice's eyes.
Though she couldn't understand the ancient being's specific language, she could genuinely perceive, deep within that frenzied lament, a trace of familiar emotion not yet completely erased—the fear and grievance of a lost child.
Netherwing: *Sad, chaotic low growls*
"I understand... you are unsettled... you are in pain..." Castorice's voice became incredibly gentle, trying to pierce through the layer of madness. "Don't be afraid... there's no need to wail and mourn anymore. I shall bring you... final peace and release."