"Phaethon, what are you doing? ♪"
Cyrene's ever-lively voice suddenly rang out, breaking Castorice's contemplation and that moment of sorrow.
Phaethon was seen raising his hand, his fingertips shimmering with the faint light of space, clearly preparing to directly open an Infinity Gate.
Phaethon paused, looking back at Cyrene with a hint of confusion, stating as if it were the most obvious thing: "Cyrene, do you even need to ask? Of course, I'm opening a gate straight to the central area of this city. Did you really plan to walk there step by step? This place looks huge, and who knows what kind of weirdness is lurking."
"But~ Phaethon," Cyrene walked over to him, wagging her index finger in front of his face, "you mustn't forget the true meaning of our coming to Styxia! We're not just here to help Castorice find the Death Coreflame; we're also here to help her seek the meaning of death and life! And, we need to address those little question marks in your own heart too, right? ♪"
She clasped her hands together in an adorable pleading gesture: "So... promise me, okay? During this journey, try not to rely on your Infinity Gate shortcut so easily. ♪ Because the real answers are often hidden within the 'process' itself!"
Phaethon frowned, trying to argue his point. "But... shouldn't discussing the meaning of death be about directly finding the Titan of Death, Thanatos himself, and asking Him in person? As for the questions in my heart... I'll figure them out myself when the time comes."
He always felt Cyrene's proposal was extremely inefficient.
Seeing this, Cyrene feigned a helpless sigh, shrugged, and said in a seemingly casual tone:
"Ah, is that so? Well then~ I was originally thinking we could take this chance to do some on-site investigation of this legendary city of the dead. After all, we might even find some clues along the way about that 'fallen' Demigod of Ocean—Hysilens—and the truth behind her fall. Since this is the last place she vanished... isn't it? ♪" As she spoke, she glanced at Phaethon as if unintentionally.
The expression on Phaethon's face instantly changed!
He cleared his throat twice, switching his stance instantly: "Ahem! Cyrene, but on second thought, constantly relying on the Infinity Gate is ultimately bad for one's health! Standing still for too long makes you prone to weight gain! I admit I was too hasty before, too reliant on shortcuts! We should measure this ancient city with our own steps, deeply contemplate its... um, philosophy of life and death!"
Cyrene immediately gave Castorice beside her a covert "Plan successful! ✓" victory sign, then strode ahead towards the deep, ancient gates of Styxia.
However, when she forcefully pushed open those immensely heavy, giant doors that seemed to separate life and death—
The scene behind them was not the expected empty streets or grand plaza.
Instead... it was countless, translucent, faintly glowing... specters!
They densely filled every visible street, square, even floating between the dilapidated structures.
These specters seemed completely unaware of the intruders' presence, merely wandering aimlessly, endlessly through the ancient city in a perpetual drift.
They occasionally passed by each other, muttering broken, indistinct words or sentences, repeating illogical, bewildering fragments of conversation, forming a low, continuous background hum—a chorus of the dead.
Castorice's pupils contracted slightly. She stepped forward, carefully sensing these spirits, her voice carrying a note of surprise and confusion as she murmured:
"These... feel wrong. They don't seem like the unconscious reflections or echoes naturally born of the River of Souls... They seem more like... the true souls of the deceased, retaining fragments of their living imprints?"
Castorice invoked her hands of shadow. Countless whispering souls flowed like fireflies at her fingertips, only to disperse into nothingness and sink into the unseen far shore.
"Indeed, these are not phantoms, but the true souls of the dead," she said softly, her gaze seeming to pierce through the void. "They should have followed the River of Souls, gone to the end of the west wind... to eternal rest. Yet now, they are stranded on the shallows of the underworld's flow, unable to move on."
Castorice turned, her eyes holding a profound concern. "Lord Phaethon, Lady Cyrene, I'm afraid... we must venture deeper to uncover the truth behind all this."
Phaethon didn't answer immediately. In his mind, system prompt messages flooded in like a tidal wave—
[Archive Successful: Soul "Kalim"]
[Archive Successful: Soul "Aelia"]
...
Hold on, does this... count as "death"? At the edge of the River of Souls, right in front of the Death Titan herself— did he just intercept her accumulated "work" of over a thousand years?
And it was Castorice herself who used her authority to guide those souls, delivering them into the hands of her sister, Polyxia.
Yet before the souls could even settle in Polixia's palms, his system unceremoniously snatched them away?
This... this doesn't feel right. Phaethon felt an inexplicable sense of guilt, like stealing candy from a child and trying to act nonchalant.
He kind of feels sorry for Castorice's sister, whom he hasn't even formally met yet...
"Little Phaethon~, what are you spacing out for over there? ♪" Cyrene's light voice floated over. She had already followed Castorice forward a distance and was now looking back at him.
"Oh, coming." Phaethon snapped back to reality and quickly caught up.
Before them lay a stretch of deathly still River of Souls water, black as ink, reflecting no light, silently devouring all light and sound.
A faint, illusory mist drifted over the water's surface. Phaethon instinctively thought of opening an Infinity Gate to cross this area tainted by the River of Souls—but was immediately stopped by Cyrene's outstretched hand.
"Little Phaethon~, I said we should use the Infinity Gate less on this trip, remember?" She blinked, her tone carrying a hint of playfulness. "Don't forget, I am, after all, a priestess of Oronyx~ ♪"
She took a step forward, gently raising her hands. In an instant, the surroundings began to blur and twist, like a watercolor painting being washed, colors flowing back, time reversing.
The River of Souls waters rapidly receded, the streets restoring to their pre-tainted state—still damp and ancient, but at least no longer permeated with the aura of death.
Cyrene gave a soft smile: "See, now we can pass, right? ♪"
The three proceeded once more, stepping into the briefly time-reversed domain, continuing deeper towards the mystery of Castorice's origin.
...
"...According to the whispers of those specters, I should have descended into this world together with that Dragon of Death—Pollux."