The green stem instantly withered and turned black! Even more eerily, several wisps of gray-green mold sprouted from within the fruit's skin and spread at a visible rate!
An intense, nauseating sour stench of rotten fruit instantly filled the entire room! In just two or three seconds, a fresh, living fruit had turned into a pile of foul-smelling mush!
"Tsk..." Phaethon sucked in a sharp breath. The effect of "Decay" was direct and overbearing!
He steadied his mind, his eyes sparkling with the excitement of reversal. Again!
*'In this place, any fruit my eyes touch shall be Renewed!'*
This time, the surging law-force was filled with a vast, almost unimaginable power of life and creation!
That pile of corrupt mush seemed as if time flowed backward, injected with the purest essence of life! The mold vanished without a trace in an instant! The collapsed, shriveled skin rapidly plumped up, swelled, and regained its elasticity as if being inflated!
The deathly deep brown color faded away as if washed by clear water, swiftly disappearing, once again glowing with an enticing, dewy-bright crimson!
Even the stem became green and erect once more! A fresh, sweet, supremely fruity aroma—far surpassing that of a fresh apple—wafted out, instantly dispelling the previous foul odor!
The entire apple was not only restored to its original state but appeared even more perfect, more vibrant with life than before!
Watching this miracle that could be called "reversing life and death" unfold before his eyes, the disappointment in Phaethon's heart was somewhat diluted by this tangible display of formidable power.
He rubbed his chin, his eyes gleaming with thoughtful light.
*This ability... is quite interesting.*
...
"Phaethon! I can't do it means I can't do it! Even Aglaea can't make heads or tails of Hysilens's death. Even if you feed me until I'm a round, plump ball, I still couldn't conjure up an answer!"
Cyrene refused righteously and sternly, yet her cheeks were puffing like a busy hamster's, her hands moving so fast they were a blur as she expertly stuffed another mouthful of fragrant food into her mouth with her chopsticks. Her "resistant" posture stood in stark contrast to her whirlwind eating speed.
"There must be a way, right? Cyrene..." Phaethon pressed his palms together, his voice drawn out soft and long, as if wielding invisible hooks, trying to fish out even a sliver of hope from her.
"Hah..." Cyrene swallowed the food in her mouth with effort, let out a long sigh, put down her chopsticks as if resigning to fate, and tapped the table with a fingertip. "Unless—I could know exactly how Hysilens died, the same way I know about Cerydra. Sure, there are plenty of mysteries tangled around Cerydra too, but at least the outcome is set in stone. Or..." Her gaze drifted toward the window. "...if I could go to Styxiamyself, to the place where Hysilens last vanished, maybe..."
"But, why are you in such a hurry about this?" Cyrene changed tack, picking up her chopsticks again and shooting Phaethon a glare of exasperation. "Learn from Phainon and Mydei! Look at those two, getting along so harmoniously and happily!"
"Cyrene... you mean," Phaethon's lip twitched, counting on his fingers, "having me join them in a race to see whose Droma runs faster? Competing to see who can last longer in a 'scalding hot spring' that can peel your skin off? Seeing who can carry more of those poor, hardworking Chimeras who suddenly and inexplicably became contest props? Or... competing to see who can help the Grand Craftsman carry so much iron it turns his shop completely filled with iron?"
He recalled his last visit to pick up a weapon—the once-spacious shop was practically buried under a small mountain of iron blocks, with no place to stand. The Grand Craftsman himself could only move with difficulty through the gaps between the blocks.
"Spare me!" Phaethon shook his head like a rattle-drum, his face clearly stating "No, thank you."
"That's precisely why you need to go!" Cyrene slapped the table. "Aglaea has complained to me several times! Phainon—" She suddenly switched to an extremely enticing tone, as if cooking up a delicious pie. "Haven't you always said about wanting to be an elder brother? This is the perfect opportunity! Start by... managing those lawless brothers of yours, at the very least?"
"...Alright, Cyrene." Phaethon seemed deflated, his shoulders slumping as he let out a resigned sigh. "I'll go see what earth-shattering mischief my foolish, hyperactive brothers are stirring up now."
(Cyrene: Ah, peace and quiet at last...
Half a day later...
I was so naive... really. To think anything good could come from those three being together.)
Following the faint sounds of shouts and clashing weapons, Phaethon found the two "harmonious and happy" figures at the edge of the training grounds. Dust stirred lightly in the arena as Phainon stumbled back, shaken by a powerful punch from Mydei.
"Deliverer! Is that all you've got?" Mydei retracted his fist and stood firm, a wild grin spreading across his face as he provocatively tilted his chin up.
"Hmph!" Phainonsteadied himself, shook his slightly numb arm, and retorted, "My brother's defeated opponent dares to act so arrogantly before me?"
Before the words fully landed, the heavy training wooden sword in his hand sliced through the air with a dull whistle, making a cunning strike toward Mydei's flank.
"Clunk!" Mydei reacted swiftly, blocking the wooden sword with his vambrace, producing a heavy thud. He snorted coldly, his tone dripping with disdain: "You have the nerve to say that? Didn't you also fall to him? More than once, right?" He accurately jabbed at Phainon's sore spot.
"That's because Phaethon is too damn slippery! Like an eel! If I got the chance to close in, I would've already..." Phainon's face flushed red, his neck stiffening as he argued.
"Tell me about it!" Mydei scoffed, rolling his shoulders, battle lust burning in his eyes. "Same result if I got close!"
"Hold on..." A glint flashed in Phainon's eyes. A bold and mischievous idea quickly took shape in his mind. A sly smirk curled his lips as he looked at Mydei. "How about..."
...
"Mydei, what do you mean? Challenging me?" Phaethon stood at the training ground's edge, arms crossed, brows slightly furrowed as he regarded the two figures standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the arena, looking anything but inviting for a simple spar.
"Yeah!" Phainon answered quickly, his face plastered with an overly bright smile that looked utterly suspicious. "Mydei said losing outside the city last time left him humiliated, and he is one hundred and twenty percent unsastified with the previous battle! So, he insists on fighting you fair and square again, to prove himself!" He gave Mydei's back a hearty slap, urging him to "show his stance."
"Really?" Phaethon's sharp gaze swept over both their faces before settling on Phainon. "Then what are you doing down there?" He accurately pointed out the most unreasonable part of this "invitation."
"Me?" Phainon wore a "how can you even ask" expression, exaggeratedly spreading his hands. "Of course, I'm here to be the referee! Fair and impartial, no cheating!"