Chapter Text
What he wanted to do was simple. He knew that what he had done might have been cruel; sending Phainon and Cyrene into hell wasn’t the kindest choice. Yet, in the face of everything, it was the only option left to him—even if that meant going against himself.
If he wanted to defeat Lygus, he had to choose the best option. If he was going to cast those two into hell, then he might as well share their fate.
The price for walking alongside them had already been paid.
While unconscious, he fell. He thought his body would dissolve into a spirit, yet instead he awoke to find his human form restored. His eyes drifted to his hands, trembling faintly, then downward into the void beneath him.
Around him stretched a strange space where time itself seemed to drag, every second stretching into eternity, every breath echoing louder than it should.
He gazed at the yellow road stretching endlessly ahead, its glow faintly pulsing like veins of light beneath his feet. At the end of the path stood a towering mirror, its surface rippling as if made of liquid glass.
He carefully rose to his feet and began walking toward the mirror. With each step, it seemed closer than it had any right to be, as if the distance were folding in on itself. The echo of his own movements trailed after him, swelling louder and louder, until it felt less like his footsteps and more like something else following close behind.
How strange, there’s no one behind me.
When he finally stood before the mirror, he expected to see his own reflection staring back. Instead, the surface revealed a metallic helm encasing his head, its cold, unyielding contours gleaming faintly. From the center, a single crimson light burned and spread across the glass, casting his face in an eerie glow.
As his fingers brushed against the reflection, the mirror—once fluid—suddenly hardened and shattered into countless fragments. The shards burst outward before his eyes, each one catching his image. Yet in every reflection, he saw himself… only altered, marked by subtle but undeniable differences.
The hollow space left by the shattered mirror pulled him in with an irresistible force. He struggled, but there was no escape—his body couldn’t crawl back, as if the very air around him denied him any path of return.
Heh, this is…bad.
For a long time, the space remained cloaked in darkness; he couldn’t open his eyes, nor could he move. The sensation was alien, as though the boundaries of his body no longer obeyed him. What unsettled him most was not the paralysis, but the slow erosion of the comfort he had clung to before—replaced instead by a torrent of memories, images and sensations he was certain had never belonged to him.
He kept trying to take deep breaths, but the air just wouldn’t reach him. The more he tried, the more desperate he felt, his chest tightening like even breathing was slipping out of his hands.
Until, all at once, his eyes snapped open. The sunlight struck him with such force that he winced, blinking rapidly as his vision struggled to adjust.
“Oh, you woke up. Are you okay?” It was a deep but strangely soft voice, how pleasant, he thought.
“Hnn… Mydeimos? Sorry for the inconvenience...” From his lips escaped a name he didn’t recognize, yet it carried a strange sense of familiarity. He hadn’t even realized he was being carried in the arms of the man beside him.
“Keep sleeping. You fainted while you were pulling out the carrots.” Fingers gently brushed his forehead, pushing his hair to one side. “You should’ve just asked me for help. Now Hyacine is going to scold you again.”
“It’s fine, it was my fault too.”
Mydei sighed, glancing briefly at the man in his arms. “Can you walk on your own? I don’t mind carrying you to your house.”
“There’s just a small problem…” He murmurs.
“Hmm? Do you want to? I don’t mind.” His lips curled into a mocking smile. “You’ve helped me more than anyone except Hyacine. I couldn’t expect less from the crown prince.”
It was strange. He couldn’t remember saying those words, nor did he understand their context. And yet, deep inside, he was certain they were real—all of it. The way this man held him, speaking of people unfamiliar to his mind, but somehow engraved in his body.
“That HKS didn’t help you?”
“He did.” Anaxa leaned his head against Mydei’s arm with a sigh. “But he got distracted, and that woman just took him away.”
A pink-haired girl appeared in front of his eyes. For a brief moment, he thought he saw his former friend, and the feeling gave him a sense of déjà vu. But instead, it was a girl with two pigtails running towards them.
“Professor Anaxa, Lord Mydei! What were you two doing!?” Her tired face softened with worry; the scolding could wait—right now, their well-being was her priority.
“Hyacine, your professor passed out in the farm.” Mydei shifted Anaxa carefully, helping him to stand.
She hurried to his side, her hands gripping his arm. “You got too excited about the carrots—you could’ve waited until tomorrow.” With a soft sigh, she added, “Cassie was supposed to check them today, anyway.”
“Don’t worry, Hyacinthia, I already checked how they’re growing. Those fairies weren’t lying, heh.” His voice trailed off as a low, maniacal laugh slipped from him, growing under his breath.
She ignored him, as always. “Lord Mydei, thank you for helping him. I’m sorry for troubling you.” Her smile was soft, almost angelic, and as always, it drew a quiet smile from him in return.
When they finally reached the nearest establishment, Hyacine gently but firmly ordered Anaxa to rest, her tone leaving no room for protest. She even asked Castorice to stay with him, making sure he wouldn’t try to slip away and overwork himself again.
“Sorry, Cassie.” Her face showed resignation, though her tone was gentle.
“It’s fine. Professor Anaxa is always like this… I’m just glad I could help.”
“You really respect him, don’t you? Please, stay by his side… I don’t want him to become even lonelier than he already is.” Their eyes showed clear concern; they wanted the best for their mentor.
She went to find Mydei, who was busy cooking something for everyone. The warm smell drifting from the pot gave her the courage to ask about what he had been doing with her teacher on the farm.
“To be honest, I was worried.” He took a slow sip of the soup, letting the warmth linger. “His body is fragile, yet he still went out to check the farm under today’s sun. He didn’t notice, but I was watching him from afar.”
“Lord Mydei… Heh, you really like him.” She pinched his cheek playfully. “I bet he didn’t weigh that much.”
“It wasn’t… he felt lighter than I thought, and even his lips—” He stopped abruptly, his face heating up as he realized what he’d just said. Clearing his throat, he added quickly, “I mean, when he passed out, his breathing stopped, so I had to perform CPR.”
Hyacine raised an eyebrow, half-amused, half-suspicious. “Uh-huh. CPR, you say.”
“Yeah, Mydeimos, I also want to know what happened.”
A white-haired man stepped into view as if he had been there all along. His lips curved in an easy smile, the kind that pretended calm, but both of them knew better—there was nothing relaxed about him at all.
“Oh, it’s you.” He smirked, tilting his head ever so slightly. “What, did I get ahead of you?”
A faint vein throbbed on the other man’s forehead. His smile didn’t falter, still calm, still easy—but his voice carried the sharp edge of irritation.
“…You— I didn’t even get to touch his hands!”
Hyacine slipped between the two, her presence quieting the air. With a calm glance at Phainon, she spoke softly but decisively:
“Professor is in the next room with Cassie. You can go see him.”
“Hyacine…!” He raised his hand to his lips, his eyes widening in feigned astonishment.
He hurried into the next room, where Castorice sat quietly with a book in her hands, pausing now and then to gently wipe the sweat from Anaxa’s forehead. The sight made his chest tighten. When Phainon finally laid eyes on his professor, a long breath escaped him. As long as Anaxa was safe, everything else could wait—everything else would be fine.
“Ah…” She stood up, smoothing the fabric of her dress. “I suppose I should be going.”
“No, don’t worry, Castorice. I only wanted to…” His voice trailed off as his gaze shifted from her to the resting figure of Anaxa.
She smiled faintly, tilting her head. “It’s fine. I know how you feel about him… well—more like, everyone knows.”
“... That’s not good.” He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Does that mean Aglaea also knows…?”
“Yes. She definitely knows.” Castorice’s tone carried both certainty and amusement. “That’s one of the reasons she keeps arguing with him.”
That made him a little nervous. Was he really that obvious? He couldn’t help but blush, clearing his throat.
“…I guess I’ve never been good at hiding things.” He tried to laugh it off, though the warmth in his cheeks betrayed him. “He lets other people be closer to him, but when it’s me… I don’t understand why he’s like that, always brushing me off.”
“Lord Phainon… You should know him by now. He’s a lonely person who finds his comfort in knowledge—sometimes in things, sometimes in people. That’s just how he is.”
She didn’t linger any longer, only offering him a slight bow before quietly taking her leave.
He moved to his side, his fingers brushing softly against his cheek as he murmured, "Would you truly rather be with Mydei than with me? Waiting is no fun… Professor.”
Meanwhile, Anaxa heard a faint voice reaching for him. He was so weary that he let it fade away. Maybe it was Phainon, maybe not, but he didn’t care. Whatever the case, he refused to answer. He had no strength left for him.
“Hm, Anaxa…”
“Anaxa…”
“Professor Anaxa”
“For the Titans, Phainon, is Anaxagoras.”
When he opened his eyes, a boy with white hair was there to greet him. His expression carried a hint of confusion, yet his smile never wavered, gentle and welcoming.
“Eh? Titans? I’ve been gone so long you actually lost your mind?”
Anaxa tried to sit up, only to realize he was lying on a table. A strange weight pressed against his neck—headphones. His fingers brushed against them in confusion. He opened his mouth to call for Phainon, but froze when his eyes landed on the man before him. Dressed in a crisp white uniform, with a name tag glinting under the light.
“Sorry… You must have felt lonely, didn’t you?” He leaned down and brushed a kiss against the corner of his mouth—a fleeting touch, more intimate in its restraint than a direct embrace.
“Aglaea and Tribbie were so insistent… I didn’t want to, but I ended up agreeing to model.” He let out a weary sigh. “After two months without seeing you, all I wanted was to come here quickly… If I had known I would meet you, I never would’ve chosen to be a pilot.”
“You always say that, but in the end, you come back after just a month.”
Why am I even saying this?
“Sorry… I’ll do my best—don’t be mad at me, please. We could go visit Hysilens and Lady Cerydra…” His finger trembled, his eyes twitching as doubt clouded him. He wasn’t sure if he should get any closer to Anaxa.
“It’s fine, I visit them often. Honestly, I see them more than I see you.” He scoffed, the sound carrying more bitterness than humor.
“Anaxa, don’t do this, please.”
“Don’t do what? Pretend nothing’s wrong? Pretend I don't see the way you look at me every time you come back? Since she died, you—”
“Don’t… don’t say her name.” His voice broke, almost a whisper. “You know exactly what happened… please, don’t.”
He walked over and sank onto the couch beside Anaxa. His shoulders trembled, fingers tangled in his own hair as sobs escaped him, raw and broken. Anaxa stayed frozen, speechless; his hand hovered uncertainly, trembling at the thought of reaching out, torn between the urge to comfort him and the fear of shattering whatever remained between them.
He couldn’t stand it—so he turned away. Deep down, he knew it was his fault, that those words should never have been spoken. He didn’t even know why he had said it; it just left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“Anaxa, you’re right. But even so, don’t leave— you’re the only one that stayed with me after that. Please…”
Was it confusion? Was it habit? Or was it love? There was a time when the three of them were happy. She watched them with joy as their bond grew deeper—until the day she died at the hands of the man she had once called her brother.
Somehow, he escaped prison. To outsiders, the truth was unclear, but to those who knew her, it was painfully obvious. At first, people stood by Phainon, offering support. But little by little, his attitude shifted. He grew quieter, harder to reach. His best friend confronted him, only to be met with a look of cold indifference. His other two friends tried to help, but a handful of sharp words were enough to silence them.
The rest of his circle wasn’t shaken as deeply. They stayed, yes, but never as close as those who had known him in youth. He kept working, even improving in his job, yet something had changed. It was no longer the same Phainon they had once known.
When did it all start to go wrong?
“... I have to go, MEI.”
“Don’t worry… I’ll stay by Kevin’s side. And I’ll make sure he doesn’t stray from the right path.”
The air was warm, the sun dipped low on the horizon, and laughter from the students spilled through the open windows. The curtains swayed gently with the evening breeze, carrying the scent of spring into the classroom.
A boy sat at his assigned chair, waiting for his friend. Restlessness crept in, and at last boredom claimed him—he folded his arms on the desk, letting his head sink into the quiet rhythm of the fading day.
“Su, are you sleeping?”
“... No.” Slowly, he raised his face, only to find his friend’s eyes already waiting for him. “Is late, where have you been?”
“Actually… I was around like half an hour ago, but after yesterday’s game, a bunch of people came up to me.”
“I see.” He got up from his chair and grabbed his bag. “Well, we should be going now.”
“Are you mad?”
“I’m not.” He sighs. “I was thinking about your wish of being a hero.”
“Are you still thinking about that?” Kevin asked, giving a small, awkward grin.
“Of course I do, you’re my friend.” The surprise on his face was obvious—like, duh, of course he’d still think about it.
“... I thought you would make fun of me.”
“You didn’t make fun of me when I told you my dream, but if you want then I could do it.”
A hand landed on his shoulder, and when he looked up, his best friend was smiling at him—same as always.
“Su, you’ve been kinda mean to me lately.”
“Do you think so? Um… I just hope you understand what it means to be a hero.” He gave him a quick, soft smile. “And just because MEI told you to, doesn’t mean you have to follow through, alright?”
“Haha, don’t worry. MEI’s not forcing me into anything—it’s my choice. I want to learn from her, and following her feels like the right first step.”
It felt like a distant dream, even to him, watching only as a spectator. The sight was touching—two friends speaking of a hopeful future, unaware that this moment would one day become one of their most treasured memories.
Have you ever heard of parallel lives?
The harsh glow of the facility lights spilled over the white-haired boy and his companion, outlining their weary figures against the sterile walls. Beyond the silence of the room lingered the memory of screams—after the attack, the death toll kept climbing. It was a grim rhythm they knew too well, one they had lived more times than they could count.
The brilliance that once shone in his eyes was gone, replaced by a sepulchral emptiness, as though he were nothing more than the living dead. Not even a single tear would come, not for his companion who had fallen only moments ago.
His partner kept her eyes fixed on the ground as she spoke to him. “... I thought you’ll be the last one to give up this fight.”
“Do you want the truth?”
“I never give up because I never tried. I… never cared about Honkai nor Humanity.”
“I just don’t care.” He remained silent for a few more seconds before continuing to speak.
“I didn’t become a MOTH to save the world. It was for selfish reasons… yet the decision took me all the way here…” His voice was hoarse and a bit melancholic.
It was the first time she had seen him so vulnerable, so open. The man who carried the last spark of hope for humanity’s survival now looked fragile, exposed—truly human.
“... We’re all the same, Kevin. No one is born a hero. We’re just ordinary people forced upon this path.”
“I thought about home and my dreams…and often questioned why I’m doing something I never asked for.”
“I have been a follower. I followed the Captain, and now I follow you with MEI in the lead. I thought this was my path.”
“But no one forced me onto this path. It’s my choice. I don’t like it and I can stop or leave at any time… You could have done that, but you didn’t, Kevin. No one has the right to blame you for anything.”
“...but I do and I blame myself…”
The place was in absolute silence until Kevin raised his head.
“I am not giving up, Hua. We will not give up.”
“Humanity shall win.”
The man rose to his feet, gripping the sword that had accompanied him through countless battles in recent years. From below, his shoulders seemed impossibly broad—those of a man burdened with the weight of humanity itself.
And that conviction carried him into the next era, stripped of his humanity, alongside the friend with whom he had once shared innocent laughter—laughter that would never return.
He seemed callous, cold, stripped of all love for humanity—yet it was this very path he chose. He sought to carve his final resort into the dawn of a new era, but when the moment came—when the choice stood between sacrificing everything for his plan by killing his dearest friend, or sealing himself away—he chose the latter.
You who see this, what do you want to know?
Anaxa woke up sweating; all of his blood rushed to his head, and he could only see from one eye. He was hanging upside down, a coarse rope biting into his legs as it kept him bound. The air was damp, carrying the scent of blood, and the faint echo of his breath reached his ears. How much time had passed since he lost consciousness? Hours? Days? He couldn’t tell
“... What was that?” He murmurs. “At the end I couldn’t do anything…”
He could glimpse other lives, other worlds, so different from his own. Was there truly no other choice? In those visions, the Phainon he saw always ended in misery. Surely, there must be worlds where this wasn’t the case—but they were likely realms he could never even dream of reaching.
“Heh, fine. A happy ending is boring.” He glanced at the metallic head before him. “I suppose you’re what he called an Aeon.”
It responded only with a flashing red light.
Anaxa smirked at it. “Heh, so… can you tell me how to make a dromas fly?”
[...]
[Progress: 99,89%]
[Do you want to continue?]
[Yes] [No]
[Iniciating process towards the cycl█ 2██8████]
[█Err██]
“...” The robotic figure smiled as he turned around. “I didn’t expect you to return—you’ve exceeded my expectations.”
"Ha… so now you claim you had expectations of me?” A man emerged from the shadows, the cracks across his body glowing faintly as he raised his pistol, aiming it squarely at Lygus head.
Anaxa’s body was cracked, like that of a broken doll, each fracture revealing a faint glow. Inside him stretched a void that looked like a galaxy—vast and endless. It felt strangely familiar, for it was the very same place where he had once glimpsed all those worlds.
“What can I say? A code I programmed to act according to the world of Amphoreus now stands before me.” His tone grew more excited—almost unsettling—as he spoke. “Splendid… you’re truly fascinating, Lord Anaxagoras.”
“It’s a shame that you’ll be eradicated. I don’t need anything that will throw the experiment out of control.” Lygus walked: one, two, three… and then stood in front of Anaxa. “Thanks to you, I discovered that the code ‘NeiKos496’ is the perfect choice. Ironically, that means he’ll be the last one to live in the world he is trying to save.”
“Yes, yes, I know—it’s my fault.” He laughed. “That just means I have to take responsibility for it. Besides, isn’t it convenient for you that I’m the one with him?”
“What makes you so sure he won’t be with someone else? I suppose you had a plan when you decided to leave, but if you’re here… that means something happened. And you can’t enter without my permission, can you?”
Anaxa stayed silent for a few seconds before breaking into laughter. "Hmm? And who says I need your permission to enter?"
“Do you really think I simply did nothing, knowing you had some wicked plan? I don’t know what you aim to achieve—nor do I wish to know.” He let out a long sigh.
The gun in his hands fell to the ground, revealing himself completely, he stood in front of Lygus, staring at him.
"If I could live in a world where my only worry was what I’d eat tomorrow, I would gladly stay there. But I can’t. I made them a promise. This isn’t just about me—it’s about the people I care for. To you, they’re nothing but codes inside a machine. I don’t care if that’s true. To me, they feel, they suffer, they dream—and that makes them real.”
His hand was trembling, so he placed his other hand on top of it.
“You have a brilliant mind, but that choice isn’t yours to make. I wonder—are those truly your own thoughts, or has gazing at the world beyond this box warped them? If it’s the latter, then you’re nothing more than a slave to memories.” He seemed annoyed. "You’re no different from the rest—a thing I made to follow my will. Why then do you resist everything I want? I’ve stated plainly what I plan to do.”
“I understand, but that is your mistake. You hate your creation because it made humanity simply accept the truth instead of seeking it for themselves—yes, I can see that. But you are a fool. While you wasted yourself chasing destruction, this world carved its own path through knowledge. And it is for that reason that I now stand before you.” Anaxa closed the distance between them, his steps deliberate, until only a few centimeters separated them. “That just demonstrates your ignorance in humanity.”
“...” His smile remained, though his tone sharpened with irritation. “I’ll admit my mistake was placing you in a cycle where you were never meant to be. Beyond that, I don’t believe I’ve done anything wrong.”
“Oh? Do you find playing god amusing? I don’t care whether it’s good or bad—I’m not here to debate the morality of your actions. I simply appeared here after speaking with something that was, at last, pleasant to converse with.” He chuckled. “I’ve already said it: I don’t need your permission to enter. But you’d make my life much easier if you gave it willingly.”
“Heh, I can tolerate your criticism—only because you amuse me.” Lygus gripped Anaxa’s head with disdain. “You had no reason to stand against me in that cycle, yet I still lowered myself to offer you a chance.”
“A chance? Ha! Don’t make me laugh. You were just looking for some fun, but you never thought it would end like this, did you? Maybe you should’ve just kept that mouth of yours shut.” He couldn’t contain his amusement, a faint laugh slipping through, even as the other fixed him with a cold, disdainful stare.
Lygus let out a slow sigh, then drove a finger into Anaxa’s fractured cheek; the crack spidered open, exposing more of the starry void inside. “Very well, Lord Anaxagoras. I’ll grant you this—don’t complain when you remember nothing and your past is reduced to rubbish. Your precious one may die again; your former lover may love another. Everything is possible once you’re elsewhere, in a different time.”
Disdain flickered across his face, only to give way to a dry, humorless laugh that lingered in the air. “What, are you pitying me? Destiny is a fool. Even in other worlds I can be with someone else. But this is the world I live in now—so be it. Unlike him, I don’t believe in sentimental nonsense like destiny. But if this so-called fate leads me to stand by his side, then I will guide him—no matter what.”
.
.
.
“It’s fine, you can do whatever you want. I’m here for you.”
There was a hand, tenderly combing through his hair, a soft voice whispering reassurance, and an immeasurable peace that wrapped around him like a veil. He did not know what this place was—nor did he need to. It felt achingly familiar, as if some part of him had always belonged here, as though he had lived in its embrace all his life.
“I’m sorry █████ I’ve also decided to stop your madness… no matter the cost.”
And then… there was a man, standing before him, putting his very life at risk to stop him. In that fleeting instant, he faltered. Two paths lay open: kill his best friend, or remain imprisoned within this fragile bubble-world. He didn’t want to hurt him—not him of all people. Everything he does is to benefit humanity, isn't it?
He had already lost so many precious people. If he killed him—if he truly crossed that line—what would happen then?
Yet when the bubble-world finally shattered and he stepped beyond it, the answer revealed itself with cruel clarity: his friend was gone. Not by his hand, not by his choice—gone all the same. In that moment he understood that this was the true loss, one no blade could ever compare to. Even without killing him, fate had already decided the end.
Phainon woke with a start. Odd… wasn’t it? None of the faces in his dream were familiar, and yet Castorice had appeared among them—of all people—wearing a wide straw hat, smiling as if she were some farmer from a countryside tale. The image lingered in his mind, absurd and strangely vivid, leaving him wondering why such a scene would visit him at all.
“That was a weird dream…”
He rushed to get ready—already late, and on the very first day of school. Aglaea had not spoken kindly of the sage, and he had no idea how the man might react if he showed up late…
When he arrived at the classroom, it was quite full. A girl dressed in purple approached him, her steps light, and when she reached him, she offered a gentle smile.
“It's the first day and you're already late.”
“Ah, Castorice.” He smiled awkwardly. “I fell asleep.”
“It’s fine, Professor Anaxa hasn’t come yet.”
Just as she finished speaking, the door opened again. This time, a man—much younger than Phainon had expected—stepped in with a wide smile on his face.
“I suppose everyone here knows who I am and for those who don’t know, my name is Anaxagoras.”
A girl with pink pigtails followed him in, carrying a small stack of books in her arms. After placing them on the desk, she quickly took a seat as close to the professor as she could.
“Oh, that girl…” Phainon recalled the one from his strange dream, though it didn’t seem all that important.
“I have two rules.” He started walking around. “Rule number one: Do not call me Anaxa. Rule number two: Never interrupt me—silence is golden.”
“This is my class assistant, Hyacinthia. Direct to her any inquiries concerning the coursework.” He stopped in the middle of the class.
He didn't have to search long before he caught sight of the two sent by that woman, standing near the center of the class as if they had been waiting for him all along.
“Phainon of Aedes Elysiae and Castorice of Aidonia. Know this: just because you were sent by that woman does not mean you will be treated any differently. Everyone here is my student, and each of you holds the same worth.”
In that moment, those words—which might have sounded harsh to others—brought him a small sense of relief.
“Here, it does not matter whether you are an outcast or a hero. Here, you are simply a student under my education, and I will teach you what others would call heresy.”
As Anaxa continued speaking, Phainon’s eyes lit up with excitement. Could it just be a façade? He refused to believe it. This man was extraordinary—radiating a presence that left him both awestruck and speechless within seconds.
“Castorice…” he murmured. The girl beside him glanced sideways at him, edging a little closer. “I think I might be in love.”
Before she could reply, Phainon suddenly stood up, drawing a few curious glances from the students around him. He didn’t speak, only remained there in silence, waiting for his teacher to finish.
“Heh, I assume you have something to say, ask away.”
“Yes, Professor Anaxa.”
A few students started to giggle under their breath, and before long, the girl in pink joined in, covering her mouth with her hand as if that could hide her amusement. She was supposed to be his assistant, yet even she seemed to find the rule absurd—and she wasn’t making much of an effort to hide it.
“I want to know, what do you think about love?”
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[Eternal recurrence number 0]