If... if it were possible, he truly wished he could take everyone in this world he cared about—
Phainon, Cyrene, Mydei, Aglaea, his teachers Tribbie and the others, Anaxa... and leave this doomed Amphoreus behind. Go to a future truly filled with hope, and never return.
But... he couldn't.
He wasn't a real living being. He might not even qualify as a stable piece of running code.
I'm probably one of the unluckier Honkai: Star Rail transmigrators, huh?
Others transmigrate as Trailblazers on the Astral Express, or as powerful playable characters, or at least as named NPCs... some even become Aeons outright.
How did I end up as a nameless string of anomalous data that could be purged by the system at any time?
This self-deprecating bitterness eroded his will more profoundly than any enemy's attack.
However... Phaethon was no longer who he used to be. He would not be felled by an enemy's words anymore.
"Even if... it is truly as you say, that my birth was merely an insignificant accident produced during the system's operation."
Finally, Phaethon slowly spoke, breaking the suffocating silence.
His voice was low at first, carrying the weariness of admitting a fact, but then, an indescribable force began to gather within it.
"But!" His voice gradually steadied. "It—existed as such an 'accident.'"
Phaethon stared straight at Lygus's projection, as if trying to see the manipulator behind the data and light. His voice trembled slightly with emotion and agitation—fragile enough to break one's heart, yet firm enough to move:
"You say I have no name of my own, that I am just a string of blank code... Then tell me—
'Asterion', 'Phaethon', 'Little Phaethon', 'little Snowy', 'Deliverer-Chef', 'Lord Phaethon', 'Elder Phaethon'...
What are all these addresses from different people, carrying different emotions, to me?!"
"They, with every single name, defined my hollow 'existence' like stars lighting up the sky!"
"It was them... it was every person who called me thus, who defined me, filled me with their perception, their emotions, their bonds... They made me no longer a cold blank. They allowed me to truly exist!"
A light seemed to burn in his eyes, the brilliance of a will to live that transcended data and programming:
"So... no matter what my essence is, no matter how hopeless the path ahead!
I will save everyone I love, and who loves me!
Even if—it requires me to defy fate and save this world sentenced to death by an Aeon!"
Lygus's projection remained silent, seemingly analyzing this variable beyond calculation at high speed.
But Phaethon no longer waited for his response. He threw out the answer he had just found, the one that could overturn everything:
"And... you asked me what in the world I am? I just found the answer. In the deepest layer of Amphoreus's database. In those original logs you ignored, deemed useless redundancy—a corner someone like you, who only pursues 'results,' would never bother to look."
His tone became clear and sharp, like an unsheathed blade:
"As you said, the Amphoreus supercomputer was originally built as a Scepter for the Aeon of Erudition, Nous, to solve the 'Prime Mover of Life.' But after you arrived, you directly and brutally introduced the ultimate answer of 'Destruction,' overwriting the original process."
He pressed on step by step: "Then tell me, Lygus—before Amphoreus was forcibly twisted towards 'Destruction'... Where did its original, Erudition-aligned answer, the one not fully calculated to its end... go?"
The Vortex of Genesis was utterly silent.
Neither Phainon, Cyrene, nor Lygus provided an answer.
"I am it, and it is me. Asterion was never a variable from beyond the skies. It is the discarded draft that originally belonged to Amphoreus."
This time, Lygus fell into a long silence.
The light of his projection flickered uncertainly, revealing the unimaginably complex calculations and deductions happening within.
After a long while, his eternally calm voice finally spoke again, now carrying an unprecedented, almost awed gravity:
"This is an answer... I never anticipated, Asterion. It seems the 'gazes' lingering upon you are far more numerous, far more profound, than I predicted..."
"'Erudition' Nous sowed the vessel seeking answers, 'Destruction' Nanook pronounced the final judgment... and 'Remembrance' Fuli, who silently observed and recorded everything... The three Aeons watching Amphoreus have all placed heavy stakes upon you. But, you must know..."
Snap—!
A clear, crisp snap of fingers rang out. Lygus's data-constructed projection flickered violently a few times like a screen with its signal cut, then vanished completely, as if it had never existed.
Phaethon slowly lowered his finger, his gaze cold and resolute.
He without hesitation interrupt Lygus's unfinished words. Letting him continue would only make Cyrene and the others worry.
The world seemed unchanged, but the highest privilege control interface was now completely and firmly under Phaethon's control.
"Little Phaethon... you... are you alright?" Cyrene cautiously stepped forward.
She instinctively reached to hold Phaethon's hand, wanting to offer some comfort and support.
However, when her fingertips touched his hand, she was surprised to discover—
Phaethon's hand, from the very beginning, had been tightly, tightly clenched around something.
So tight his knuckles were pale.
It was precisely the small, exquisite hair accessory she had slipped into his hand earlier.
He had been holding it all this time, never letting go, not even when facing the void of his own existence.
Witnessing this, Cyrene and Phainon exchanged a silent glance. No words were needed; they understood each other's resolve, and... the profound apology they held in their hearts for Phaethon.
They knew better than anyone that what they were about to do was to personally place a heavy shackle named "the world" upon Phaethon's shoulders, making him bear a loneliness and responsibility close to eternity.
"I seem to be a bit of a failure as a Deliverer, don't I? After doing so much... this world is still heading towards destruction in the end..." Phaethon lowered his head, attempting to mask the helplessness in his heart with a self-mocking smile.
"Phaethon, there's no need for such self-deprecation." Cyrene's voice was as gentle as a spring breeze sweeping over ruins, carrying a power that could soothe all anxiety.