So, when Hysilens, with her calm yet invisibly pressuring voice, asked Phainon and Phaethon for their names and purpose—
Phaethon met her gaze directly, without any roundabout talk, and answered frankly: "I am the Deliverer of Amphoreus. I am here to request an audience with Cerydra."
Hysilens's eyes, which seemed capable of seeing through people, narrowed slightly. The surrounding air seemed to grow still, chilled by the coldness she emanated.
"Deliverer?" Her voice betrayed neither anger nor pleasure, yet carried immense deterrence. "That is not a title to be used lightly, strangers."
She emphasized her tone, with a note of unquestionable reminder. "Also, in this place, you will address her with respect—as Her Majesty, Cerydra."
Phainon, sensing the tense atmosphere, immediately stepped forward to smooth things over: "Honorable Helektra, please calm your anger. My companion meant no disrespect. The situation is urgent. We do possess critically important intelligence and must request an immediate audience with Her Majesty Cerydra. It is our duty to truthfully report to her the reality of the 'Re-Creation'."
Hysilens's gaze swept between the two of them for a moment, as if weighing her options. Finally, the icy aura around her receded slightly. She nodded. "Very well, two nameless, yet extraordinarily skilled swordsmen. Stay in my wake, and follow me. This is not the place for a detailed discussion. We will speak elsewhere."
With that, she turned crisply and led Phainon and Phaethon through the heavily guarded streets toward the most core, most heavily defended area of the holy city, Okhema.
...
With composed expressions, as if merely strolling through their own courtyard, Phaethon and Phainon followed Hysilens through multiple heavily guarded checkpoints. They finally arrived at Okhema's most fortified sanctuary: the Dawncloud Cliff. The biting high-altitude wind howled past, whipping at their clothes. There, they saw Aglaea and Tribbie, who had been waiting for some time. Their figures stood at the precipice's edge, seeming to merge with the weather-beaten holy city.
"Dux Goldweaver, Dux Fatorum, my apologies for the wait." Hysilens walked briskly to Aglaea and Tribbie's side, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with them, forming an invisible line.
"It's you..." Phainon looked at the two faces before him, so familiar yet now appearing alien and guarded. He couldn't help but murmur, a flash of complex emotion in his eyes.
Phaethon, meanwhile, scanned the open precipice with a sharp gaze, but did not spot the small, candle-like figure that always emitted a blue glow in his memories. He looked directly at Hysilens and asked, his tone calm yet carrying an undeniable demand: "Hysilens 1, you said you would take us to see the imperator who abolished the vulgar practice of foot-kissing. So then... I'm curious, where is this Lady Cerydra now?"
"First," Hysilens's brows immediately furrowed tightly, her voice cold as she corrected him, "My name is Hysilens, not some peculiar 'Hysilens 1'. Mind your address, stranger." She took a step forward, an increasingly sharp aura radiating from her: "Second, lest you harbor any misconceptions, nameless swordsman. Although our journey here may have seemed amicable, I have never, from start to finish, said—that you were qualified for an audience with her."
Her gaze swept over Phaethon and Phainon, filled with unconcealed scrutiny and suspicion. "According to the Dux Fatorum's prophecy, a 'Deliverer' absolutely cannot appear prematurely in this era. Therefore, anyone claiming that title is a suspicious individual. We must maintain the highest level of vigilance." She tilted her head slightly, signaling to Aglaea and Tribbie behind her. "Come, Dux Goldweaver, Dux Fatorum. Let us perform our due duty—to 'receive' these two guests of unknown origin."
"As expected, then?" Phaethon, as if he had anticipated this outcome all along, showed not a hint of surprise. Instead, a look of 'just as I thought' appeared on his face. "To obtain an equal opportunity for dialogue quickly, it seems we still need to demonstrate some 'sincerity'." Before his words fully faded, he merely, as if casually, rested the ferocious-looking "Judgment of Shamash" greatsword in his hand lightly against the ground at his feet.
A soundless yet boundlessly vast golden ripple erupted from the point where the sword tip touched the ground, violently rippling out in all directions! As if a stone had been thrown into the fabric of spacetime itself! The authority of Time manifested here with a thunderous presence! A purely golden, absolutely stagnant time-stop domain materialized without any warning, instantly descending with precision to completely envelop the three Golden Descendants before them—Hysilens, Aglaea, Tribbie! Their movements, expressions, even their fluttering strands of hair, solidified utterly in that instant, like three exquisite statues!
The surrounding soldiers, who had been on high alert, witnessing this miraculous scene, in their shock, immediately instinctively tried to rush forward to protect them! However—countless slender yet incredibly tenacious golden threads materialized out of thin air. Like living spirit serpents, they instantly wound around every soldier's limbs, weapons, even throats, binding and suppressing all their movements, even their cries of alarm, holding them firmly in place, unable to move a muscle! And that was not all! Immediately following, a gigantic blade, hundreds of meters long, seemingly capable of cleaving mountains, materialized in the sky above the Dawncloud Cliff! The destructive energy it emitted caused the very air to warp and wail. Its blinding sword tip pointed directly at the precipice below. Violent energy madly gathered within it, emitting a heart-stopping hum. It seemed the next second it would brazenly descend, instantly blasting the entire precipice, along with all the Golden Descendants and ordinary soldiers upon it, into dust!
Yet, Phaethon's gaze passed over the time-frozen Hysilens, landing on a seemingly empty spot behind her. As the time-stop domain expanded, Hysilens's exquisite siren illusion dissipated like gauze blown away by the wind, revealing the figure that had been hidden behind it all along—that petite in stature, yet radiating unquestionable authority, the Empress, Cerydra.
"Your Majesty! Be careful!!" The utterly loyal Sword - Dux Gladiorum, though partially restrained by the golden threads herself, let out a hoarse warning, her eyes wide with fury! But at the very moment her voice rang out—a miniature Infinity Gate unfolded soundlessly from the void behind Cerydra! A Phaethon doppelganger, whose aura was even more illusory, as if composed of pure energy, stepped out like a ghost. Before Cerydra could even react, the "Judgment of Shamash" greatsword, burning with crimson-black flames, already carrying the searing touch of death, was placed precisely and deftly against her slender neck! This was clearly an ability originating from the previous cycle—the power of "Tribios"!