Chapter Text
"Let's try this again."
"Partner? ...Is it truly you?" Phainon's voice trembles, raw with disbelief, as you step into the Vortex of Genesis, Dan Heng and Mem by your side.
You glance around. Despite being an isolated space, the vortex, once a sacred ground of swirling starlight and towering columns, was not spared from the incoming black tide. Shattered pillars jut like broken bones from the cracked floor, swallowed by the encroaching black tide. The false sky above glitches, its constellations flickering like a dying hologram, casting uneven shadows on you.
How did you not notice it before?
Before the spirit basin, Phainon and Lygus stand shoulder to shoulder, their expressions a stark contrast—Phainon's face is etched with frustration, his eyes shadowed with the bone-deep exhaustion of failing those he swore to protect. Lygus, however, radiates with an unsettling exaltation, his smile too sharp to be polite.
The tension between them crackles, so thick you could slice it with your bat.
"Why are you here?" Phainon's voice cracks, strained with exhaustion and desperation. "You shouldn't be here! And Dan Heng—your form…" His eyes flicker to Dan Heng's altered appearance, confusion craving deeper lines into his face. "Where are Zeph and Mnemosyne? They were meant to lead you to safety!"
"They did their utmost to fulfil their duties, I assure you. They are now resting with the others," Dan Heng replies, his voice a steady current beside you. "We are the ones who chose to come back."
"With only one last chance to turn back, you still step forward." Lygus' voice is dripping with condescension. It sets your teeth on edge "...How befitting of you Trailblazers."
"Spare me your mockery," you snap.
The Theoros chuckles, a low, grating sound that scrapes against your nerves. "You misunderstand."
"We aren't misunderstanding anything," you say, your voice sharp but not sharp enough to cut through his infuriating smug composure.
"Very well." Lygus' body language shifts, his voice taking on a solemn weight. The bastard is ignoring you. "As our world nears its end, the ones who walk the infinite paths have embraced their destiny… As the Theoros, it is my duty to—"
"Screwllum says you're behind all this," you interrupt him. "We're done playing your games."
Phainon's head snaps towards you, confusion flickering in his blue eyes. "...?"
"We're leaving," you declare, voice firm. "And we're taking Phainon with us."
"What?"
Lygus' lips curl into a faint, amused smile. "...By all means, I wouldn't dream of stopping the heroes on their 'noble' mission." He drags his words, and his tone is infuriatingly casual, as if he is indulging a child's whim.
You narrow your eyes, suspicion prickling up your spine. "You're letting us go? Just like that?" You expected a confrontation. A new weekly boss battle, even. "What's your game, Lygus? What are you hiding?"
"Nothing. I have absolutely nothing to hide." He spreads his hands wide, his masked expression almost theatrical in its innocence. "I am merely an observer, Trailblazer. If there is no continuation, then Era Nova will mark Amphoreus' final act."
His voice carries a strange finality.
It unsettles you.
"Let's go," you say, reaching for Phainon's hand. "Come with me."
"Partner, what are you saying?" Phainon slaps your hand away, his eyes wide with panic. "We can't leave!"
"We are leaving. Now." You emphasise every word. "This place isn't safe."
"No!" Dawnmaker materialises in Phainon's shaking hands, its blade pointed downwards, as if he can't bear to aim it at you. "Everyone is counting on me!" The weight of losing his fellow comrades, one by one, has worn him down, and his voice rises with a desperate, hysterical edge. "We can't just abandon them! I-I can't just leave!"
"You can," you insist, your voice dropping to a gentle plea. "You always have a choice."
Above, the false sky fractures further, glitching shards of code raining down like shattered glass. The ground quakes, a low rumble heralding digital tsunamis roaring beyond the vortex's walls.
Amphoreus don't have much time left. Neither does Phainon.
But the Deliverer stands firm, his blade finally rising.
"You can't take me!"
The edge of Dawnmaker glints an ominous red under the flickering sky as Phainon lunges at you. His movements are frantic, lacking their usual elegance, fueled by hesitance in striking a formal partner and a refusal to abandon his world, even as it crumbles.
You parry his strike, your bat sparking against his blade, adrenaline surging through your veins alongside a sharp pang of guilt. Dan Heng moves in tandem, his spear a blur, but Phainon fights with the ferocity of a man with nothing more left to lose.
Each clash of steel rings with his pain, his fury, his refusal to abandon Amphoreus.
Phainon doesn't understand. But this is what is best for him. You will save him.
"Listen!" You grit your teeth, sweat stinging your eyes, and shout, "We're trying to save you!
"You'll doom us all!" Phainon roars back.
Your words are not getting through. Phainon is not listening to you at all. You feel an ache in your chest at the raw pain his voice.
Amphoreus, even if it is a simulation, is his purpose, his home, and you're tearing it away
"This is your home, I know, but it's fake—!"
"It is still my home!" Phainon's cry is a wound laid bare, his blade swinging with desperate force.
"Dan Heng, now!"
In an instant, Dan Heng moves, his movements fluid and precise. The golden waters of the basin rise at his command, swirling like a tide to envelop Phainon. "Heed the cloud's lullaby. Water of sleep, gentle river. Sweet slumber, tranquil harbor."
Phainon's protests fade as the cloudhymn takes hold, his body going limp as he collapses into Dan Heng's arms. "Sorry, Phainon," Dan Heng murmurs.
Dust settles and Lygus watches, his amusement palpable. "Well?" he says, tilting his head. "Go on."
Your chest tightens as you take one final look at the constellations shining above, their flickering light a bittersweet reminder of the world you're leaving to die. Memories flood you, each one a shard of the year you've spent in Amphoreus.
Listening to Aglaea's soothing voice as she lectures you on the virtues of a warm bath.
Sharing your adventures in distant worlds with Trinnon, answering each and every one of her questions (not without some embellishment, of course).
Following the giggles of Tribbie and Trianne as you play hide-and-seek with them in the halls.
Playing third wheel to Phainon and Mydei, their bond undeniable (you couldn't deny they are were adorable together).
Nodding along to Anaxa's almost manic voice as he rants about the perfection that are the dromases (it was a drinking night at the Grove).
Participating in Castorice's handicraft classes, her smile warm and encouraging, her hand just hovering above yours, never to touch.
Playing with little Ica. Teasing Hyacine about her not-so-subtle crush on her Dannie, her flustered blush sparking laughter.
Weathering Cipher's playful teasing in return.
Mem's soft paw on your arm pulls you back from your reverie, and a deep, aching sorrow swells within you for the heroes who have fallen, their sacrifices tied to a prophecy you now know to be a lie.
You won't let Phainon join them.
"Dan Heng!" You call, your voice thick with emotion. "We're leaving. Now."
"Roger," Dan Heng replies, adjusting his grip on Phainon's limp form. His voice is steady, but you can see that his eyes mirror your quiet mourning.
You activate the Chronocognitive Teleporter.
---
"Is this really the right choice?"
"There is no other choice."
---
Himeko paces the polished floor of the Parlor Car, her heels clicking with every step against the gleaming surface.
Pom-Pom needs to work out their anxieties, after all.
Her red hair sways with every turn, and her gaze wanders to the direction of the passenger cabin, where March 7th remains entombed in ice. The girl's once-vibrant face is frozen in an eerie stillness, the frost creeping deeper into her form with every hour Himeko checks in on her.
The sight of March 7th suffering from the unknown ailment twists Himeko's heart. She can barely force herself to stay in March's room, where holographic photographs flicker continuously on the walls—snapshots of laughter, adventures, and better days.
The contrast is unbearable, like a knife to her chest.
Himeko tears her gaze away, only to meet the Black Swan's inscrutable eyes. The Memokeeper hovers by the windows, her fingers deftly palming her cards, as Amphoreus, the distant, isolated world, shines behind her beyond the glass.
Himeko's jaw tightens.
She should never have let Black Swan board the Express.
"They're late," Herta's hologram snaps, her voice cutting through the mounting tension. Her arms are crossed, scrutinising her painted nails with a scowl. "Screwllum reported contact five system minutes ago. Those two should've been back ten system minutes ago."
As if on cue, the air crackles, and space and time rip open. You and Dan Heng crash onto the Parlor Car's floor in a tangle of limbs. Dan Heng cradles Phainon's limp form close to himself protectively, his knuckles white, his tail gently coiled around the latter's body. Mem stumbles but recovers with a graceful twirl.
Himeko gasps, her hand flying to her chest. "Trailblazer! Dan Heng!" She rushes forward, her eyes full of worry. The sound of her familiar voice soothes the raw edges of your nerves.
You flash her a weary and hopefully, cheerful grin, pushing yourself up on shaky arms.
"You're late," Herta says, her voice flat. Her holographic gaze sweeping over you from top to bottom with cool appraisal. This is the closest she will come to admitting concern, her sharp eyes lingering just a beat too long.
"Better late than never," you quip. "Woah, I haven't seen this form before."
"You can admire me later." A mirror flickers in existence. "Hand over the Curio."
You open your hands to reveal the fractured pieces of the Chronocognitive Teleporter, the Curio Screwllum entrusted to you. His mechanical voice echoes in your mind: "It serves as a connection between the internal and external worlds."
It was a marvel of Erudition's design—a space bridge that converts and transmits data structures across worlds, shielding its users from the digital tsunamis raging through Amphoreus' firewall.
You glance at Phainon's limp body, still cradled in Dan Heng's arms, and Mem, hovering above you.
It worked. Barely.
Though you know Screwllum intended it for you and Dan Heng alone, not for the extra passengers you dragged along—passengers who, by all logic, shouldn't exist in this 'reality'.
Herta's hologram tsks sharply, her lips pursing as she studies the destroyed Curio in your hands. "This shouldn't have shattered so easily," she mutters, irritation lacing her voice. Her grand plans for the Curio—whatever they were—lie in ruins now.
But she is the Madam Herta, she will find a solution.
"His existence isn't stable," Herta says at last, pointing a flickering finger at Phainon. Her gaze shifts to Mem. "Neither is this creature's."
You wait for Mem's usual protest at being called a creature, but she only twitches an ear. Her silence is unnerving. A flicker of unease tightens your stomach.
"My work here is done," Herta declares. "Dock the Express at the space station for refueling, and re-group with Welt and that youngster. Screwy and I will stay behind." Her image flickers, and for a fleeting moment, her piercing eyes lock onto yours. "You know the truth about this planet, don't you? I will shut the scepter down."
With a final flicker, Herta's hologram and mirror vanishes, leaving only silence in its wake.
Himeko steps forward. "Welcome home."
"We're home!" You reply, forcing a smile. Dan Heng nods silently, offering a small, tired smile of his own as he gently lays Phainon on a nearby seat, his movements careful.
Beyond the windows, the lone planet—Amphoreus, a universe to some—shines brilliantly, oblivious to its impending doom.
---
"Is this... really what Trailblazing is supposed to be?"
"..."
---
"Mmm... Partner?" A soft voice calls out to you.
You jerk upright. When did you fall asleep? Oof, your back aches from sleeping in a chair.
The room is dim, bathed in the glow of starlight streaming through the window, casting long, wavering shadows across the floor. The stars outside look uncountable, their cold light a stark reminder of the universe's vastness.
Your gaze snaps to Phainon, tangled in the sheets of your bed. He's wearing one of your (many) spare shirts, the fabric stretched taut across his broad chest and shoulders, barely covering him. You make a mental note to take him shopping.
If he stays long enough to need them.
"I'm here," you say, leaning over him. You keep your voice carefully flat. "You've been out for days, Phainon. How are you feeling?"
He stretches, muscles flexing under the too-tight shirt, and lets out a soft sigh. "I haven't been this well-rested in… ages." His sleep-heavy blue eyes flicker to your face, lingering for a moment before sharpening with sudden, jarring awareness. He bolts upright, the sheets pooling around his waist as he scans the unfamiliar room with rising panic. "What…? Where… Where is this? What did you do? Tell me!"
You force a smile, keeping your tone cheery to counter the storm brewing in his eyes. "This is my room." You gesture to the surroundings. "Over there's the bathroom. That's the kitchen and the fridge that's stocked with March's culinary 'creations'. And that corner?" You point to a nook with a glowing console and scattered game discs. "That's the entertainment area, loaded with all the games I told you about. You'd definitely love Origami Bird Clash."
Phainon's eyes flick to the window, where the stars stretch into an endless, merciless void. "This is… the world outside?" His voice drops to a frantic whisper. "No. Nonono. I need to go back! Back to Amphoreus!"
You feel your heart sinking. Your next words are critical. "I just got you out of Amphoreus. I won't let you go back to die. Your world is a simulation, Phainon." The words taste bitter on your tongue. "None of it was real."
"They are real to me!" Phainon's voice breaks, tears glistening in his eyes as his face twists with anguish. "I didn't ask for this! I didn't ask for your help!"
"Phainon!" You reach for him, desperate to bridge the quickly forming chasm between, but he jerks away.
"Don't call me by that name!" he snarls, his hand lashing out. Nails rake across your arm, sharp and searing, drawing thin lines of blood. A flicker of guilt crosses Phainon's face, but it is gone in an instant, drowned by his rage. "Take me back! You stole everything from me!"
Pain flares, hot and stinging, but you lunge forward, grabbing his wrists and pinning him to the bed. Phainon thrashes beneath you, his strength startling for someone who has been unconscious for days. "Let me go!"
"He's fading," Black Swan's voice comes from the doorway, where she stands, her violet eyes cold and knowing.
The words hit you like the express. You glance at Phainon, and you notice his flickering form. The edges of his body glitch like a corrupted hologram, pixels dissolving into the air. The sight rips through you, a visceral reminder of how fragile his existence is.
Your grip tightens on Phainon's wrists, your voice low and fierce, trembling with determination. "No. I'm not losing you too." These words are a vow, born from the guilt that has haunted you since Amphoreus.
Phainon flinches, his thrashing slowing as his eyes meet yours. The fire in them dims, replaced by a weary, heartbroken calm. "I wanted to join you on your journey," he whispers, his voice barely audible, thick with unshed tears. "But not like this. Not… like this." Fat tears roll down his cheeks, carving glistening trails across his face, and the sight cracks something deep within you.
You slump back, releasing Phainon's wrists, your hands shaking as you wrap them around Phainon's sobbing form. You wonder if this is what Trailblazing means—saving lives at the cost of tearing them apart, carrying the guilt of an abandoned world.
Amphoreus may have been a lie, but to Phainon, it was everything—his purpose, his home, his family.
And you ripped it all away.
The stars outside gleam coldly, indifferent.
---
"This timeline is a failure too." You hear Black Swan say.
You open your mouth to respond. But no words came.
---
Days blur, and Phainon hasn't woken since that day. He lies still on the bed, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.
You watch over him, sitting and sleeping in that same chair, watching the faint flicker of his form and wondering if you have doomed him along with his world after all. Your room feels smaller, the walls closing in with the weight of your doubts.
The stars outside never seem to change, their cold light like a vigil.
Was it the wrong choice? The question loops in your mind. Should you have left Phainon to face his fate in Amphoreus, to die for a prophecy you know to be a lie? Is saving him from his doomed world the right choice? And is it worth watching Phainon slowly die before you when there's nothing you can do?
You climb the steps to your room, each one heavier than the last. As you reach the door, a faint glimmer catches your eye. A girl stands before Phainon's bed, her form translucent, shimmering like starlight on water.
Her presence is familiar, yet her appearance is not.
"Mem?" The name slips from your lips, instinctive, as recognition sparks in your chest.
"Hello, Trailblazer," she says, her voice soft and warm, a contrast against your cold room. "I believe this is the first time we've met in this form."
You nod.
"Hi! I'm Cyrene." She gives you a curtsy.
You return with a bow of your own.
"We never had the chance to be properly introduced. I'm Phainon's bestie, and him, mine," she says. "If only a different choice was made, maybe the three of us could have been frolicking in Aedes Elysiae at this moment."
Cyrene—Mem's true essence—stands before you, her translucent figure glowing faintly, her bright eyes filled with a quiet resolve. "Like how you and Dan Heng treasure the Express…" she continues, her voice steady but tinged with sorrow, "Amphoreus means everything to me. To Phainon. It is, or should I say, was our home, our purpose, even if you see it as a lie."
"I'm… sorry." You say. Cyrene's words cut deep, echoing Phainon's anguished cries. You swallow hard, the guilt rising like bile. "I didn't want to hurt Phainon or you," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just… I couldn't let him die."
Cyrene's gaze softens, and she steps closer. "I know," she says. "And I believe in you, Trailblazer. I believe you can make things right." A playful smile tugs at her lips, a flicker of the Mem you know. "Promise me you'll make Phainon happy. And that other cute girl—March 7th. She deserves happiness after all she went through."
A small, bittersweet smile graces your lips, and you nod. "Promise."
"Pinky promise!" Cyrene insists, her voice brightening as she extends a translucent pinky, the gesture so achingly childish it brings a lump to your throat.
You reach out, your own pinky hooking around hers, the contact faint but warm, like a memory made solid. "Pinky promise," you whisper. Your throat feels tight.
Cyrene grins at you, and her form shimmers, then fades, dissolving into motes of light. As she vanishes, you glance at Phainon. The faint flicker in his form steadies, his edges sharpening, his breathing growing stronger.
Relief floods you, but it is tempered by the loss of another friend.
You sink into the chair beside the bed. The stars outside still gleam, cold and distant, but for the first time in days, a spark of hope flickers within you. You will go on, for this promise you have made.
Trailblazing has always been about forging paths through the impossible, isn't it?
---
"Mmm... Partner?"
"I'm right here. Good morning. How… are you feeling?"
"Morning! Great, I haven't felt this well rested for a while now. Where are we heading to today?"
"I— We're docked at the Herta Space Station. C'mon, I'll introduce you to the others."