"Judgment of Shamash" and "Dawnmaker" were wrenched from their grasp simultaneously, spinning away across the shattered ground.
In that frozen moment, time stretched into eternity.
Did any fragment of the past flicker within them as they stared into each other's familiar, yet now utterly icy, blue eyes?
The sunlit training grounds... a tiny figure named Trianne waving her fists, shouting at the top of her lungs:
"Trianne wants to see you fight! Snowy, go! Littler Snowy, go! Whoever wins gets the biggest cake from Trianne!"
Their blades, back then, were pointed toward a shared future, a common hope—not at each other's hearts. But reality's chill is piercing and unforgettable. As their eyes met, there was no hesitation, no retreat—only the absolute, ironclad resolve to see their chosen paths through to the end.
Using the violent recoil, they both pivoted, gathered their strength, and performed perfect mirror-image actions—
Phaethon's hand shot back in a reverse grip, his fingers closing with unerring accuracy around the hilt of "Dawnmaker"—the sword that belonged to Phainon. A sense of sacred coldness, utterly foreign to him, flowed from its blade.
Phainon's arm snapped back, his grasp firm on "Judgment of Shamash"—the sword that belonged to Phaethon. An alien, raging heat pulsed from its grip into his palm.
*You use my sword to sever my way.*
*I use your sword to cut down your path.*
Not a heartbeat of pause. They transformed into two opposing comets, carrying each other's weapons and their unyielding convictions, and collided in the air once more!
"BOOM!!!!!!!!!!"
The sound of this impact dwarfed all that came before, a cacophony that seemed to make the very world cry out in pain.
The massive "Blade of Fury" beneath their feet shattered with a deafening crack, splitting cleanly in two. A mountain of rubble cascaded down like a collapsing cliff.
They too plummeted like fallen stars, crashing back onto the ravaged earth with enough force to throw up a dense cloud of dust, swallowing the landscape.
As the dust began to thin, Phainon tried to push himself up. But countless brilliant golden threads materialized across his body, shimmering like divine shackles woven by a goddess, locking his every movement.
"It's over, Phainon!" Phaethon's voice cut through the haze. He held Phainon's "Dawnmaker." In a blur, he was before Phainon, the blade raised high for a final, decisive strike upon his helpless brother!
Yet, in the instant before the blow landed, purplish-black cubed flames ignited from nothing. The golden threads, capable of binding souls, dissolved and snapped before this sinister fire like frost under a blazing sun.
A flash of ultimate weariness and profound mockery passed through Phainon's eyes. He whispered, the sound almost a sigh:
"Merely a soul..."
Before the words vanished, "Judgment of Shamash" in his hand seemed to catch the purplish-black fire. It unleashed its hidden fury without warning.
A wave of force—bone-chillingly cold yet searing with destructive heat—erupted violently. A pillar of crimson-purple flame shot upward, blasting the unprepared Phaethon through the air. He tumbled wildly before slamming into the ground.
Distance opened between them once more. Their chests heaved, the sound of their ragged breaths stark in the sudden silence.
Phaethon's gaze was locked on the dancing purplish-black flame in Phainon's hand. His voice was deceptively calm, a lid on a simmering storm:
"That is... the power of the Black Tide?"
No answer came. Phainon answered with action. Dark amethyst flames crawled up the blade of "Judgment of Shamash," radiating a baleful aura that eroded the air and made the spirit quail. The space around them warped.
Seeing this, Phaethon asked no more.
He raised his right foot, infused it with the authority of 「Earth」, and stomped down with all his might!
"Hum—"
Centered on him, everything for dozens of kilometers—rubble, dust, even motes of moisture—shuddered and rose slightly into the air, lifted by the sheer magnitude of the power.
At the same time, Phaethon's pupils dilated into pools of infinite depth, like a starless night sky. Within them, torrents of icy data streamed and flickered—the authority of 「Reason」, fully unleashed!
Pseudo-Omniscient Domain, Expand!
With 「Earth」 as the foundation, 「Sky」 as the eye, 「Ocean」 as the sensor, and 「Reason」 as the unifying processor—in that moment, all physical data within the domain poured into Phaethon's consciousness like a flood.
The slightest shift in the wind, the trajectory of every speck of dust, the most minute tremor in Phainon's muscle fibers—nothing escaped his "sight."
He did not toss a coin to buy more time for Godlike Speed. Instead, he slammed a coin directly at the ground by his feet, using the shortest possible trigger to erupt with speed that surpassed all limits—Godlike Speed!
"Fsh! Fsh! Fsh!"
Infinity Gates bloomed and vanished along his charge path at a frantic, unprecedented rate. He became a bolt of golden lightning, flickering and teleporting through space, his path a chaotic, unpredictable zigzag.
From above, it seemed as if a hundred Phaethons emerged from every direction at once, a converging tide of golden destruction aimed at the solitary figure of Phainon.
Phainon swung the amethyst-flamed "Judgment of Shamash," parrying fiercely. But under the absolute predictive power of the 「Pseudo-Omniscient Domain」, every block was a half-step too slow, a puppet's delayed reaction.
"SCREECH!"
A piercing, metallic shriek. Phaethon's "Dawnmaker," from an impossible angle, knocked "Judgment of Shamash" aside with perfect, brutal precision.
The tremendous force tore Phainon's grip open. The dark "Judgment of Shamash" flew from his hand.
The instant it left his grasp, several golden threads—already lying in wait—lashed out like striking serpents, coiling tightly around its hilt.
"To me!" Phaethon yanked hard. The threads snapped taut, humming like plucked wires.
"Judgment of Shamash" carved a sharp, merciless arc through the air—a blade of vengeance guided by an invisible will—and sliced savagely across Phainon's chest.
"SHHK—!"
A wound split open, deep enough to glimpse bone. Scorching blood, shimmering with faint gold, welled forth, sizzling as it hit the charred earth.
"If... what rises from the horizon is not a sun to give life to all things, but a black sun to devour the world..."
"Then I, Phaethon... will cut it down with my own hands."
This was no cry of victory. It was an oath, weighted with infinite cost and sorrow.
The battle... seemed, in this moment, to have reached its conclusion.
...
Phainon's "Dawnmaker" lay discarded among the distant ruins.
Phaethon stood over his brother, who knelt on one knee. He raised the scorching, impossibly heavy "Judgment of Shamash" in his hand, and drove it down toward the figure on the ground!
*Thud.* The blade of Shamash grazed Phainon's cheek and plunged deep into the soil beside him. The intense heat it carried instantly scorched the earth black.
Cut down the black sun? How could he... ever truly bring himself to strike?