Chapter Text
Finding the deliverer these days is easier than ever.
All Mydei has to do is follow the sound of his yapping.
From the moment he steps into Marmoreal market, he can hear the Deliverer’s voice ring out loud and clear. Turning the corner, Mydei finds him speaking to Chartonus this time, the blacksmith having to crouch down to see what Phainon is animatedly showing him on his teleslate.
“---And this half-naked showoff here is Gilgamesh, calls himself the ‘King of Heroes’. Look, doesn’t his blond hair and arrogant attitude remind you of Mydei?”
“Like the Kremnoan prince, resembles.” Chartonus replies, his voice a deep rumble like the mountains from which his people originate. “But not by much, a little.”
“Oh, trust me, this guy was so much worse than Mydei.” Phainon says, swiping to the next picture on his teleslate. “And here’s a picture of Saber’s sword, she let me hold it for like 5 seconds before she took it back. It was incredible, you would have loved it, Chartonus. All those legendary weapons in one spot, my blood’s on fire just thinking about it.”
“You’re full of energy today.” Mydei chooses that moment to reveal himself, stepping out from behind a pillar so that Phainon can see him. Chartonus, sensing his chance to gracefully exit, gives Mydei a nod of greeting before returning his attention back to his forge. “Means that you’re more than ready for our spar, let's go.”
Phainon’s returning grin is so wide it could have split his face into two. “So bossy~” He teases, footsteps quickening to match up with Mydei. “You would have gotten along so well with Saber, she’s a king too, you know, from some mythical place called ‘England’. Apparently, it resembles Aedes Elysiae.”
He speaks with a whistle, and walks with a spring in his step. Phainon puts both hands behind his head as he cheerfully exclaims. “I’d like to visit this ‘England’ someday.”
“So I heard,” Mydei replies dryly. He’s not trying to be rude, it’s just that it’s probably the dozenth time he’s heard this story. Phainon had been so excited to talk about his adventures with the Express and the Holy Grail War upon his return, and Mydei was more than happy to indulge to the point where he can recite the entire story by heart.
Compared to the exciting and legendary battles of the Holy Grail War, peaceful life in the eternal page must seem so dull in comparison.
Well, not on Mydei’s watch! As Phainon’s one and only equal, his rival, the person most suitable to guard his back, it’s his job to keep Phainon on his toes so that he doesn’t slack off. Mydei’s still more than capable of bringing the fiercest, most thrilling battles that will test their skills and push them both to the limit.
“Where should we go today?” Phainon asks, yapping along without a care in the world. “Aglaea banned us from sparring inside the city walls because repairing what we broke is too much of a pain. And I think Anaxa is researching in the Sunlit Garden today so he’ll have my head if we try anything there.”
“We’ll go to Dome of the Stars.” Mydei says, a place that is quickly becoming one of his favourites. Spacious, open, with a beautiful view of the stars, the other heirs knew to steer clear of the area the moment they see him and Phainon arriving.
“Perfect!” Phainon beams. “Best give it your all today, because I learned a lot from the holy grail war! Enough to beat your ass.”
Mydei crosses his arms and huffs, deigning not to respond. Holy grail war this and holy grail war that, it’s all Phainon talks about these days. Maybe he thinks Amphoreus is boring now, that fighting against Mydei isn’t as interesting as what he can find out there. Well, Mydei will prove him wrong.
He’s been studying too, reading books the outlanders share with them. Recently, Dan Heng had been able to download a copy of the Express Databank into the Eternal page, which he devours with interest. He’s curious about the outside world, and also wants to prepare himself for the day where Amphoreus officially becomes part of the galaxy. The combat sections are particularly fascinating, there are a lot of new techniques he wishes to try, and Phainon is the perfect punching bag.
The moment they arrive at the Dome of Stars, Mydei doesn’t even give Phainon a moment to gather his bearings before grinding his heels into the ground and turning to face him.
“Let’s start. Or are you going to use forgetting your sword as an excuse again?”
“Me? Never,” Phainon says with a grin, a wooden sword materializing in his hand. It’s always been this way, Mydei would spar with his gauntlets while Phainon insists on using a wooden sword. Mydei had spoken to him about it countless times, that there was no need to treat him delicately as he had retained his immortal body despite not bearing the curse of Nikador anymore.
But still, Phainon would shake his head and refuse to use anything else.
“Dawnmaker is dangerous, Mydei. It’s not something that should be used for sparring. I’m only able to give it my all in our battles if I know I’m not hurting you in the process.”
Maybe Mydei hasn’t been giving him enough of a challenge, if he’s still insisting on fighting him with a handicap. Mydei huffs and silently swears today will be the day he convinces Phainon to take out that sword.
“Talk with your actions instead of your mouth, deliverer. Show me your conviction!”
They both charge forward at the same time.
Even though his sword is a cheap, wooden one made for training, Phainon’s absurd strength and incredible swordsmanship are more than enough to make up for his choice of weapon. When he swings it, Mydei has to hold up his arms to brace against the force of the wind. When it makes contact with Mydei’s gauntlets, he feels the impact vibrate all the way to his bones. And on the (rare) occasion that Phainon gets a (lucky) hit in, it makes bruises bloom golden brown underneath his skin.
“Ha....” Mydei grits his teeth, finding himself pushed back as Phainon feints successfully, distracting him just long enough for Phainon to shove the hilt of his sword into Mydei’s gut. He stumbles a few steps before regaining his balance, feeling the familiar ache in the side of his abdomen that indicates it’s going to be sore for the rest of the day.
It takes a few moments for the reverb to kick it, and when it does, Mydei feels the familiar sensation of warmth rushing up his throat, the metallic tang of blood on his tongue. Good, good! He’s all warmed up, now let the real fight begin!
Just as he’s about to leap forward in a running strike, Phainon drops his sword.
Mydei is caught off guard and flounders to a stop rather clumsily. Phainon’s left himself wide open but Mydei isn’t the type to attack someone who’s willingly disarmed themselves.
“I think that’s enough sparring for today,” Phainon says languidly, patting dust off his coat. Phainon’s sweaty bangs are sticking to his forehead, his shoulders are heaving with effort, his cape has fallen off and is lying in a heap on the ground somewhere but otherwise he is no worse for wear.
Mydei has a few dents in his armour, nothing he can’t repair. His head throbs from where the deliverer’s rock hard skull had bashed against his, and of course there’s that nagging soreness by his side from that lucky strike. By their usual metrics, Mydei had lost the battle since he had gotten hit first.
And he doesn’t accept a loss lying down, he’s not even close to being done.
“I’m not finished with you yet,” Mydei growls.
Phainon blinks at him. “But Mydei, we’ve been sparring for two quints already, it’s time for our bath, then dinner.”
He hadn’t noticed that so much time had passed, it was hard enough to keep track of time here especially since they still didn’t have a proper day and night cycle. The outlander had suggested something stupid like ‘wear a watch’ which Mydei scoffs at because it’s just impractical, plus, Phainon has proven himself surprisingly good at knowing what time it is.
Going to Marmoreal market, spending time with their friends and family, sparring with each other, going for a bath, then dinner, then another bath before bed if the weather was hot. It’s become routine for them since Irontomb was defeated, and over the peaceful days he’s just found himself going along with it on autopilot.
In fact, Mydei had gotten so used to Phainon’s presence that when he was away for the Holy Grail war, he’d look for him out of habit before realizing he wasn’t there. Mydei would show up at the baths at the usual time and be surprised to find it empty, or he’d cook far more than he was able to finish and end up having to give it all away. Just thinking about how pathetic he was acting puts a scowl on his face. He’ll never let Phainon hear of this, he’d rather get stabbed in the tenth thoracic vertebrae again.
It had been fine at the beginning, when mundane life seemed like a miracle, something none of them thought they’d ever get after enduring millions of cycles.
But now, mundanity seems deceptively dangerous. Peace had dulled his edges, softened his spine. It was far too easy to stop thinking and let his body go along with the flow.
If another threat shows up, he won’t be ready. He can’t protect anything if he lets complacency soften him.
And thus, Mydei must keep his mind and body strong for that day. Phainon is already doing his part by going out into the world, crossing blades against warriors from beyond the stars. What is Mydei doing aside from sparring and sleeping?
“Not enough.” Mydei concludes, widening his stance, lowering his center of gravity like he’s ready to fight. He allows the familiar burn to trickle down his elbow, into his arms as his blood crystallizes into his weapon of choice, another one of Nikador’s blessings he seems to have retained. “We continue, Deliverer.”
Phainon doesn’t pick up his sword. He just crosses his arms and looks at him with a sort of helpless smile, like he’s facing a child who wants to keep playing.
“Now, now, I know you’re eager to continue. I am too. But we really need to get back home.”
But Mydei can’t let it end like this, not when his heartbeat is still drumming in his ears, his blood is rushing in his veins, and every cell in his undying body wants to keep fighting until he can’t stand anymore.
“One more round.”
“If we don’t get back by curtain fall hour Aglaea is going to start looking for us and you know how that goes.” Phainon says patiently.
Mydei sighs, shoulders slumping. Unfortunately, he’s right. Mydei prides himself on that Kremnoan discipline which means he knows when to stop, even if he really, really does not want to.
He supposes he will let it go for today.
“Fine.” Mydei concedes, relaxing his posture. “Let’s go to the baths first then, you stink.”
“Oh? You’re inviting me?” Phainon grins as they start walking, falling into step beside him. “Gotta say, I love this new proactive Mydei.”
He’s almost vibrating in delight as he nudges him with his elbow and says “Finally realized how important I am in your life, huh?”
Mydei feels his lips turn down in a frown. “Shut up.”
Contrary to popular belief, Mydei knows how to take a joke. But Phainon doesn’t realize how close he is to hitting the bullseye when he says this to him. Of course, Mydei has plenty of people important to him—his parents, his friends, the other Chrysos Heirs whom he’d spent millions of cycles fighting alongside, and yes, even the outlanders from the Astral Express have a place in his heart. He would die for any of them but Phainon is… he’s special.
Phainon had always been the person who understood him the best, more than his own parents, more than his friends. Maybe because it was literally hard coded in them, the Primum Mobile of Destruction and the Primum Mobile of the Hunt aren’t so different. Both were borne of wrath, both sought total eradication of their targets. But, if Mydei allowed himself to be a little sappy, it wasn’t just because of code that they got along so well.
Throughout the eternal recurrence, Mydei considered himself the only one who truly understood Phainon’s conviction, who supported it wholeheartedly regardless of whether his opponent was Phainon, Flame Reaver, or even Khaslana. Mydei had never asked him to hold back, or stop, or be gentler. Instead, he would entrust Phainon with his only weakness, fight alongside him for the Flamechase Journey, and breathe in his last painful gasp as that familiar blade pierced his tenth thoracic vertebrae, over and over again.
Of course, he’s not so conceited to think that he is the only one who understands Phainon’s suffering. Nor does he grasp the full weight of the trauma Phainon carries with him even today. But Mydei likes to think that he understands a little, enough to help fulfill Phainon’s humble wishes. His wishes to see the world outside the Eternal Page, his desires for new and exciting experiences, his appetite for fighting opponents that make his heart race.
He used to think he was at least enough for the latter. He may be flawed but his combat skills were the one thing he felt confident in. But now that they were freed of the endless loops, the universe was unimaginably vast. Would he be enough to show Phainon that Amphoreus still had more to offer? That there were things worth staying behind for?
Mydei doesn’t know.
“You seem gloomier than usual.” Before he realizes it, Phainon is peering at him, brow furrowed in concern. “You can talk about your feelings to somebody, you know.”
Mydei snorts, used to his teasing. “I was just thinking that you need more practice. After dinner, let’s go for another round.”
“What?” Phainon pauses, before catching up with him. “Not that I’m opposed, but that’s your bedtime. You always get sleepy right after our bath.”
Mydei gapes, at a loss for words. Well… he’s not entirely wrong. Sometimes he just gets so comfortable lying on the chaise that his eyes close on their own accord. It’s not like he HAS to fall asleep or anything. Why, in some cycles, he spent literal years fighting the black tide on his own without any sleep or food, so it’s not like he’s lazy or anything!
“If you can use that mouth to talk, you can use your legs to walk, hurry up!” He growls and quickens his footsteps, ignoring Phainon’s laughter behind him.
Sometimes, when he thinks nobody is looking, Phainon drops his facade of cheer for a little while. Mydei knows, because he notices Phainon just staring off into the distance when he catches him alone. The burdens he holds are not so easily resolved, and Phainon has spent too much time carrying the weight of Amphoreus on his shoulders, alone.
If these little challenges only serve to keep him busy and stop him from ruminating, then so be it.
“Deliverer, Anaxagoras has created simulations of Titankin for training purposes, he requires our help to test it out.”
“Deliverer, it’s harvest season at Aedes Elysiae and I’ve been training so I will win our apple picking competition this season.”
“Deliverer, the Titankin Anaxagoras was experimenting on have escaped and we need to stop them from destroying the villages. Let’s see who can defeat more this time.”
Despite his efforts to keep him distracted, it’s not enough to deter Phainon from his longing for the world beyond. Mydei finds him meeting up with the grey haired hero from beyond the stars, the Trailblazer seemingly showing off an oversized… chalice of some sort.
“Caelus.” He greets, nodding to him in acknowledgement. They are all used to Caelus’s visits by now, sometimes joined by Dan Heng or March 7th.
“Deliverer, it’s time for our spar.” Mydei only realizes belatedly that he’s not being clear enough when both men turn to look in his direction. That’s right, he’d forgotten that Caelus technically holds the title of Deliverer too.
“I meant Phainon.” He quickly clarifies. “You’re 10 minutes late, so I came to look for you.”
“Huh? Oh yeah.” Phainon’s eyes widen. “Sorry, I totally forgot.”
Mydei frowns. “You… forgot?”
“Sorry, it’s my fault,” Caelus says sheepishly. “I shouldn’t have texted Phainon to meet at the last minute.”
“It’s fine,” Phainon says, waving him off. “Mydei and I spar every day so we can always reschedule, but how often do you come by, partner?”
Mydei doesn’t even get a chance to be offended by this when Phainon beckons him over. “Come take a look at this.”
Well, Mydei had just been wondering what item had enraptured the two of them so. “It’s… a large glass?” He asks.
Phainon snorts. “No, silly, it’s the holy grail.”
“A replica.” Caelus quickly adds. “Not the real thing.”
Mydei approaches it, tilting his head as though it might give him further answers if he looks at it from another angle. To his eyes, it looks just like an ordinary chalice, he’s got way nicer ones at home. He doesn’t understand why people would start wars over this, nor what about this object amazes Phainon so much that he spends his time constantly talking about it.
“It probably doesn’t look like much from the outside.” Caelus explains. “But it’s a magical artifact that can grant the owner almost any wish.”
It sounds ridiculous. Mydei doesn’t believe in folklore like wishes. There was no force in the universe that would just give you something for free, everything came at a price.
Still, Phainon asks him. “What would you wish for, Mydei, if you were given the chance?”
“Hm…” Mydei frowns, pretending to consider it. Phainon is so invested in his answer that his face inches ever closer, almost tripping over himself in his haste. It’s actually pretty funny.
“Well… I would…” He intentionally drags out his sentence until Phainon’s face is almost touching his. “Wish for this HKS to stop cheating in our spars!” He reaches out and yanks at Phainon’s hair, really causing him to stumble this time, almost falling onto the ground.
“Mydei!” He rapidly catches his balance and pouts like he’s been betrayed.
Caelus laughs. “Somehow, I knew you’d say that.”
“Then you know me well.” Mydei doesn’t put his faith into something as unreliable as a wish, preferring to enact change using his own two hands.
“What about you Phianon? Come up with any new wishes since last time?” Caelus asks.
That makes Mydei raise his head in interest, meeting Phainon’s gaze for just a second before the deliverer flushes and looks away. Huh, he’s getting shy now? Whatever he’s just thought of must have been interesting.
Now Mydei’s curious to know too.
“Well…” Phainon drags on his words in that infuriating way when he’s trying to be obtuse.”I’d say that I was lucky enough for a lot of my wishes to be granted already.” He glances at Mydei again, before turning away. “I’m still trying to think of more.”
What a backpedalling non-answer. Phainon might be embarrassed, having to reveal such personal wishes in front of him. Mydei huffs, crossing his arms again, he should give the two of them some space.
“Well,” he says. “I’ll be at the usual place if you decide to grace me with your presence.”
“The ‘usual place’ huh?” He hears the outlander repeat in a teasing tone as he turns on his heels to leave.
“It’s not like that,” Phainon retorts before Mydei moves too far away to listen any further.
Phainon forgot about their daily spar, this isn’t a good sign. It means that Mydei is slacking, that he’s not even a challenge for Phainon anymore, that it’s getting stale. To think that not too long ago he had so boldly proclaimed that he was Phainon’s one and only rival, his equal, the one to keep him on his toes. How laughable that must seem.
Clearly, the fault lies with him. Mydei needs to step up his game lest Phainon starts looking elsewhere for other rivals.
As he does his warm up drills while waiting, Mydei starts to get worried on whether Phainon will even show up today at all.
But he needn’t have worried, because it doesn’t take Phainon long to arrive.
Instead of showing his relief, Mydei decides to greet him with a sarcastic retort. “Finally, you arrived. I thought I was going to die of old age.”
Phainon laughs, his demeanor relaxed. “There’s no need to be so dramatic, Mydei. We can’t even age in the simulation.”
Mydei ignores him, flexing his gauntlets, freshly polished, admiring how it shines when it catches the light. “I’ve decided,” he announces. “Let’s use our real weapons today.”
Phainon, who’d been absent mindedly twirling his training sword in a series of increasingly elaborate flourishes pauses. “What?”
Mydei doesn’t answer, instead, he clenches his fist and takes a deep breath in, feeling the familiar burn roll down his skin as red crystals form around his forearms. Phainon should be more than familiar with him to know that this means business.
Phainon hardens his jaw, shaking his head. “Let’s not. I told you before, I don’t want to use Dawnmaker against you.”
Mydei puts one foot forward, raising one gauntleted hand at him in a taunt. “It’s precisely because you are handicapping yourself that our spars have become unsatisfying."
Phainon blinks, lowering his sword for just a moment. “They’re unsatisfying?” He repeats, sounding genuinely hurt by that.
Mydei frowns slightly, yes, isn’t that what he had been alluding to when he went out seeking other challengers? There should be no need to search if one was satisfied and content.
Whatever, he mustn't let himself get distracted by Phainon’s little mind games. Mydei quickly forms a blood red crystal in the palm of his hand and crushes it. The biting pain comes from somewhere deep inside his body, brief but bearable. He adapts to it quickly, because he’d spent more of his life in pain than without it, so this kind of suffering is nothing compared to dying and reviving over and over again.
“Now, defend yourself!”
If Phainon won’t take action, then he will. Bending his knees, Mydei takes a mighty leap into the air, throwing down a cluster of crystals at Phainon.
Phainon raises his sword to block them just in time for them to shatter on impact. Countless shards of red crystal float around him, shimmering like diamonds. Being smaller doesn’t make them any less deadly, and one manages to slip past his defenses, scratching his face and leaving a trail of gold on that perfect snowy white skin.
“Ha ha ha,” Phainon laughs, sounding stilted. “You’ve had your fun Mydei. Now seriously, cut that out.” He wipes the golden blood off with his sleeve, wincing at the stain.
But Mydei understands him better than anyone. Phainon doesn’t want to stop, not really, he just needs a little push to go all out against a formidable enemy.
He curls his hand into a claw shape, crimson crystals rushing up his forearms like blood underneath his skin. Again, and again he throws them down at Phainon, red, razor sharp and deadly like lances of war raining down on him. Even when Phainon uses his sword to deflect, Mydei doesn’t stop. Clenching his open hand into a tight fist, the crystal's shards twist and turn in mid-air before rushing at Phainon from different angles, forcing him to dodge and evade.
That’s right, Mydei can learn new tricks too.
“Mydei, stop!” Phainon orders, his voice deep with anger. “These crystals hurt you. I said stop!”
The red crystal shards vibrate as Mydei’s blood boils in his veins. How dare he act as though Mydei is some delicate maiden who needs protection from pain! Does Phainon still look down on him? Not seeing him as a warrior of equal status although they have faced each other countless times with their lives on the line?
Because in Mydei’s opinion, he would have taken the victory in some of those endless cycles if Flame Reaver didn’t fucking cheat by going for his weak spot.
Alright, now he’s really pissed off. If Phainon won’t take him seriously, Mydei would force his hand.
Mydei slams into the ground, the force of the impact practically making the floor shake. Immediately upon touchdown he kicks off into a run, launching himself forward with overwhelming force, faster than a bullet from Anaxa’s gun.
He twists his torso, his entire body coiled up like a spring, a single armored leg raised high as he aims for a downwards kick. Phainon reads his body language, immediately bringing up that shitty wooden sword up to absorb the blow as Mydei’s foot slams down and–
Crack.
The wooden sword splinters in his hands, unable to withstand the force of Mydei’s kick. And even though Phainon had been ready for it, he was also pushed back several feet by the sheer force of Mydei’s raw power.
Mydei feels his lips curling into a smirk. There’s no way Phainon can hold back after seeing that. He’ll be forced to use Dawnmaker.
But instead, Phainon retreats. He takes further steps back, putting distance between them and moving himself out of Mydei’s reach. Slowly, he raises his hands up in surrender, like Mydei is a wild animal that needed to be placated.
“Hey, okay. Let’s call it your win for today since you want it so badly.”
Mydei feels his smile twist into a snarl. A win in these circumstances would be empty and Mydei would never submit to an undeserved victory, especially one given out of pity from someone who couldn’t even be bothered to use his real weapon.
Not. Good. Enough.
“If you won’t use Dawnmaker, then prepare to die.”
In many cycles, Phainon and Mydei’s first introduction to each other had been via life or death battles. He can still remember the exhilaration from those fights with so much at stake, pushing their bodies to the limit, refusing to give in until neither can even walk. Perhaps that is still the language that resonates best between them.
Mydei drops low, assessing the battlefield before doing what he does best, what he has always done best. He throws all formality out the window and fights like his body is a weapon. He sweeps his leg underneath Phainon, attempting to unbalance him, before moving, quick as lightning to attack from a different direction. Acting recklessly means that Phainon can’t predict his next attack, discombobulating him. Mydei stomps down, and crystals bloom where the ground meets his feet to try and impede Phainon’s movements, buying him time as Mydei moves in for another strike.
“Die?” Phainon splutters, quickstepping out of the way as a wave of crystals barely miss him. He’s forced to use his entire body to evade, ducking underneath Mydei’s punches, leaping over the crystal that is trying to trap his foot. Since he refuses to bring out Dawnmaker, he has no other weapon aside from his arms, which he uses to brace against Mydei’s attacks if necessary, and only if necessary. “We’re sparring, it’s not that serious!”
Oh but Mydei rarely jokes about these things, it really is that serious to him.
He flexes his arm, red crystals creeping over the surface of his gauntlet like a second layer of armour, before charging towards Phainon as though he means to punt him into the stratosphere. Normally he isn’t quite this violent, he knows when to utilize his restraint even in a spar. But he’s confident that Phainon can take him on even at his worst.
Phainon might break a couple of ribs though if he continues trying not to fight back, which is sure to be painful.
Still, the thought doesn’t make Mydei pull his punches. This is a man he considers an equal, he wouldn’t let himself go down so easily.
When his fist makes contact, it’s not against flesh and bone, but the harsh clang of steel against steel rings through the air. Just as he predicted, Phainon had summoned Dawnmaker to block the attack.
Phainon meets him head on, face devoid of any humour. He’s glaring, his crystal blue eyes glowing with an eerie amber flicker. Mydei can tell that this isn’t Phainon anymore, not fully, but not quite Khaslana either.
“Last warning, Mydei. Stop.” He warns. His voice is lower, rougher.
But Mydei doesn’t want to stop.
Idly, he wonders if the grin on his face looks as twisted as it feels, but he can’t help it. He loves this feeling, the adrenaline rushing through his veins, every muscle fibre in his body tense and ready to move, every sense heightened. This is the thrill of the fight, the kind he can only get when he puts his life on the line. Now, only strength determines the winner or the loser.
He knows Phainon feels it too.
“That’s more like it!” He roars.
They fight, no, they dance. Mydei stomps the ground again as a cluster of crystals crawl up Phainon’s shin, like embers of the dead clutching on to the living. Phainon smashes them into smithereens, hardly flinching as Mydei tries to grab him, missing by just a hair.
When he aims another kick at Phainon, Mydei meets the cold, hard edge of Dawnmaker instead. Not sharp enough to slice through his armour, but the impact travels all the way through his muscles to his bones and makes him lose feeling in his legs for just a moment.
Though in any battle, a moment of distraction could make the difference between a victory and a loss.
“Even if you’re immortal you can still feel pain!” Phainon cries as they fight. “You will suffer as you heal!”
He’s suffered, they’ve all suffered for millions of cycles, what’s a little bit more?
Mydei grits his teeth as Phainon goes on the offensive. His gauntlets are more than strong enough to withstand the brunt of Dawnmaker’s blows, but his stamina is proving to be an issue. His arms grow heavier with every strike, having to guard against blow after devastating blow, each powerful enough to defeat a Titankin. Phainon’s strength is no joke, two men would struggle to lift Dawnmaker, yet Phainon is wielding it effortlessly with a single hand like it’s made of wood.
It’s… actually kind of exciting if he stops to think about it.
He sees the glint of Dawnmaker’s blade as he raises his gauntlets to block again. But with perfect timing, and perfect precision, the blade just barely slips in the tiny gap between his elbows. Phainon presses the advantage, using the momentum to force his arms wide open, breaking his guard. This moment of vulnerability is all Phainon needs to turn the tide of battle.
Phainon drops low, sweeping Mydei off his feet—literally, he goes down, losing his balance. The world lurches above him as Mydei lands on his back with a thump, his vision suddenly filled with endless sky. Before he can get back up, something sharp prickles the tip of his throat.
And what a beautiful sight the deliverer is, standing above him with the blade of his sword pointed at his throat. There have been many times where Mydei would look upon his defeated opponents like this, demanding complete submission. Even his own father had not been spared from being on the receiving end in previous cycles.
But it’s truly remarkable seeing the tables be turned.
“Surrender, Mydeimos. You lost.” Phainon’s voice is cold, with no warmth or playfulness remaining.
If this was the eternal recurrence, Phainon wouldn’t have hesitated. His blade would have gone straight for the tenth thoracic vertebrae, ending things quickly and cleanly. Of course, there’s no need for that now. Phainon doesn’t have to kill him or take his coreflame anymore. But there’s still a kind of thrill that he gets from being utterly dominated… he doesn’t want the fight to end so soon.
And it’s almost cute how considerate he is, angling his blade slightly in a way that is less likely to cause Mydei serious injury if he makes any sudden movements.
Mydei works his jaw, trying to decide on his next course of action. Phainon’s mercy has left an opening, he could still break out, the chance of being accidentally impaled is very low. Even if it did happen, he would probably survive… maybe.
But he should have known Phainon wouldn’t be so easy to fool, his eyes narrow as though he has caught on to Mydei’s thought process.
“No,” He’s just able to say. “Don’t–”
Mydei slips right under the blade of the sword, feeling a sharp nick of pain as the blade slides across the delicate skin of his neck. A shallow cut, but nothing that would cause concern.
Phainon’s arm jerks, his blade instinctively follows Mydei before he manages to reign himself under control. He stops, pulling Dawnmaker back harmlessly to his side. Mydei had guessed correctly, if he went through with his conviction and struck, the battle would have ended right then and there.
“Isn’t this exciting? Just like old times!” His blood is on fire, burning underneath his skin. Something wet rolls down the side of his neck, and Mydei touches it, pulling his hand away to find golden blood glinting on his gauntlet. It doesn’t hurt at all, in fact, Mydei has never felt better.
He’s having fun, really enjoying himself. He’d forgotten how much he truly missed these life or death battles.
Across from him, Phainon has gone still, the hand holding Dawnmaker hovering in the air awkwardly. He doesn’t notice how Phainon’s eyes are almost watery as they stare at the wound for a second too long, and how his hand brushes across his own neck as though to mirror the injury.
“You’re hurt,” Phainon says thickly, swallowing before continuing. “We need to return to see Hyacine.”
Mydei laughs, the sound is sharp, harsh.
“You want me to come back?” He spreads his arms open in invitation “Take me back yourself, Khaslana.”
No, it’s not a mistake. While he knows they’re one and the same, there are key differences between Phainon’s other forms. Phainon hadn’t transformed into Khaslana since that battle against Irontomb, whether it was out of fear, reluctance, or something else, he wasn’t sure. But one thing is true, the power is still inside him, latent, waiting for a worthy opponent.
Just like in the millions of cycles before them, Mydei could be that worthy opponent.
Phainon takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, deep in concentration. After a few seconds, when he opens them again, they’re the same shade of blue as always.
“I… I can’t.” He says, shaking his head.
Well, it’s okay if he can’t transform immediately, maybe he just needs a little push.
Mydei resumes his barrage, crimson crystals shaped like lances rain down on the battlefield like drops of blood, dozens, then hundreds, then too numerous to count. They strike the ground with vengeance, enough to annihilate a small army of Titankin. Phainon stands there calmly, cutting down the lances systematically with Dawnmaker. They explode into dust around him, staining his white coat, his snowy hair tinged red to match Mydei’s.
Still not enough.
The temperature of the battlefield rises higher, the heat emanating from crystals making the air shimmer. Phainon is starting to show signs of exhaustion, sweat trickling down his temple. Yet his blade perseveres, culling all of Mydei’s attacks like they’re nothing more than minor inconveniences.
Mydei is getting tired too, his posture already drooping from fatigue. His crystals are created from his own blood, his life force. That had been the price Nikador’s blessing demanded from him, an equivalent exchange of life for power.
Luckily, he still has this immortal body, so Mydei never needed to worry about the price. He can’t die, so whatever he expended will regenerate itself with time. He still felt pain like everyone else, but it was a small sacrifice to make, one that Mydei had long gotten used to.
Another lance forms in his hand, larger than the last. He winces slightly at the burning sensation running down his arm, looks like his body needs more training if something this small is causing him pain. He’s really lost his touch over the past few months.
He didn’t think Phainon noticed, until a flash of light envelopes where he’s standing.
“I said that’s enough!”
Something heavy slams into Mydei, knocking him over. The impact sends him skidding onto the ground, his back scraping painfully across rubble and shredded crystals. It’s Phainon, no… it’s Khaslana, not fully him, he still retains Phainon’s appearance, but a single magnificent wing is bursting out the side of his back and his eyes are glowing yellow. Even his white hair has gained a slight, golden tint.
He’s strong, very strong. When Mydei tries to push him away, he only gets pinned back down like an animal caught in a snare. It feels almost like being crushed by a mountain.
So, this is the power of someone who had been gazed upon by the Aeons, the strength of one worthy to travel among the stars.
The gap between them is so big Mydei almost wants to laugh.
And to think he arrogantly called himself Phainon’s equal.
“Are we done?” Phainon asks him hoarsely. He sounds frustrated, perhaps even bored.
Mydei huffs, “Fine.” Every muscle in his body goes lax as he yields to Phainon. He knows when he’s lost. “I concede defeat.”
Phainon releases him quickly, as though he’d only been waiting for Mydei to say these words. When the adrenaline fades away, Mydei realizes that his body is hurting all over. Scratches and bruises cover his skin, molten gold trailing down his skin in rivulets. Nothing that wouldn’t heal by tomorrow, just enough to annoyingly sting as a reminder of his failure.
Despite all that, this was one of the most enjoyable spars he’s had in a long time. Sparring with Phainon is usually fun and Mydei always enjoys it but he can’t recall the last time he felt this… this… exhilarated.
“Are you okay? Can you walk?” Phainon asks him worriedly, now back to his usual form. He hovers nearby, trailing behind Mydei, as though he desperately wants to help but respects Mydei too much to enforce it on him.
And he would be right, the lion does not want nor need his help. But perhaps he could throw Phainon a bone since he gave him such a good fight today.
“Good spar today.” Mydei drapes his gauntleted arm over his shoulder, allowing Phainon to support him while still retaining the guise of comradery. Phainon starts, surprised that Mydei is the one initiating contact, but doesn’t push him away. Instead, Phainon leans in, his hand wrapping itself around Mydei’s waist as though to help steady him further. “I had fun.”
“Fun?” Phainon repeats, turning to blink at him incredulously. “You thought that was fun?”
Mydei blinks back. Wasn’t it?
“Yes?”
He wondered if he had answered something wrong when Phainon’s expression darkens.
“You did not enjoy yourself?”
“No!” Phainon explodes, unable to hold back his frustration. “I was stressed out of my mind worrying if I would hurt you! And then you went ahead and started hurting yourself anyway!”
Mydei frowns, trying to understand why Phainon is so mad and coming up blank. He has an immortal body, Phainon knows this. Mydei cannot be killed and any wounds inflicted upon him will heal faster than that of an ordinary mortal. Even now, the pain is subsiding as his muscles and skin knit themselves together.
They walk back in silence until they return to the borders of Okhema city, realizing that he still has his arm around Phainon, Mydei quickly retracts it.
Phainon immediately spins around when the weight of his arm vanishes. “I’m taking you to see Hyacine.”
Mydei scowls, even in the eternal recurrence it was like this. As long as Phainon was around, he would insist on personally taking Mydei to the infirmary to Hyacine to treat whatever wound he had obtained in battle.
“I’m fine.” It was just a few scratches and bruises and maybe a broken bone somewhere, there was absolutely nothing to worry about. But at Phainon’s continued glare he sighs and says. “I’ll go by myself. See you at the baths later?”
Phainon opens his mouth, then closes it. He looks down at his feet, brow furrowed, not making eye contact with Mydei. When he looks back up, his face is cold and impassive.
Mydei had always known that Phainon could be an enigma even to people he was close to. He had a bad habit of burying his emotions that only became worse over millions of cycles of loneliness, isolation and pain. But Mydei thought he was different, that they would always be able to see through each other’s disguises, even if Mydei couldn’t remember, even if Phainon had his mask on.
So Mydei just quietly studies Phainon’s expression, like he can figure him out from just looking.
“I’m sorry Mydei, I think I can’t go to the baths tonight. I have something I need to discuss with Aglaea.” Phainon quickly says, averting his head like he knows what Mydei is trying to do and doesn’t want to be read like an open book.
Mydei frowns. “Then same time tomorrow?” If he won’t be honest now, perhaps he can be honest on the battlefield.
“Maybe not” Phainon deflects. “Mydei, I think we should take a break from sparring for a couple of days.”
Mydei puts his hand on his chin, truly concerned now. Phainon? Refusing a spar? This is very unlike him, is he unwell?
Contrary to his word, Mydei does not go to visit Hyacine after they part ways. He’s not a liar but he also doesn’t need any treatment, and the kind hearted healer would definitely insist on keeping him under observation even though she’s already so busy. Simple problems require simple solutions, and his injuries are nothing a nice, warm bath couldn’t fix.
Although he knows Phainon won’t be joining him today, it’s still weird when he arrives at the heroes’ baths and finds them empty. Mydei is not so pathetic to miss bathing with Phainon when it hasn’t even been a day, but well, he did kind of miss Phainon’s inane chatter when he’d been away fighting the Holy Grail war.
Mydei puts it out of his mind, sinking waist deep into the warm, fragrant waters, feeling his worries melt away as the ripples lap against his skin. He closes his eyes, sighing as the aches begin to recede, his chest heaving as he takes heavy, relaxing breaths.
He’s trying to relax when he hears the voices of Lady Aglaea, Lady Tribbie, and… Phainon. Well, he did say he had something important to discuss with Aglaea, and the best place to find her was here, at the bathhouse.
Mydei ignores it, being the type who minds his own business, until he hears a whisper of his name.
If Phainon is talking about him, there is no reason he cannot listen.
It’s not Mydei’s style to hide like a coward, but just this time, he hunches his shoulders, lowers himself deeper into the waters and hides behind one of the decorative plants in order to better hear what was being said.
“You find it… concerning that he wishes to spend more time with you?” Aglaea is saying. “I fail to comprehend, shouldn’t you be happy?”
“I am!” Phainon replies, his voice echoing through the chamber before he hastily lowers it. “I am… but, don’t you think it’s strange?”
“No? It is stranger for the two of you not to be glued at the hip.”
“Snowy, you were always the one who understood little De better than the rest of us.” Tribbie’s gentle voice chimes in.
“That’s what I thought, but lately, I don’t seem to get him at all…” Phainon sighs, before hastily adding. “Like… What's with all these bossy half-naked men right? Always confusing.” He tacks on, complete with forced laughter.
Notably, Aglaea and Tribbie do not laugh with him.
“Hmm…” The goldweaver hums, deep in contemplation.
“Why don’t you just ask him?” Tribbie adds. “He’ll tell you the truth, you know that.”
“The truth is what I’m afraid of.” Phainon says.
Mydei does not care to hear any more. He doesn’t know why, he’s not offended by such juvenile jokes, but his chest aches like Phainon had just stabbed a dagger into his heart. So, this is how he really feels about Mydei, just another bossy half-naked guy, easily replaceable by someone else from another world. It’s ridiculous because Mydei has seen pictures of this ‘Gilgamesh’ guy and the man doesn’t look like him at all!
He’s clean now, and the steam is starting to irritate him. Mydei gets up, indifferent to the sound of water sloshing around him as he moves, picks up his bathing supplies and leaves.
Maybe Amphoreus isn’t enough for him anymore, and Mydei along with it.
Given the absence of a day and night cycle in Okhema, sometimes Mydei finds himself visiting the Vortex of Genesis just to gaze at the night sky and decompress a little bit before going to bed.
When he gets there, he realizes he’s not alone. There is a second person sitting on the platform, legs dangling off the edge, just quietly staring at the constellations that make up the symbols of the Titans.
“You’re still here?” Mydei asks the Trailblazer, who turns around at his voice.
“Oh! Hey Mydei. I was just thinking about somebody.”
Mydei knows he’s talking about Cyrene, the thirteenth titan. He’d only heard about her from the stories shared by Caelus after everything had come to an end. How she sacrificed herself in order to ensure that the rest of them were saved, that Amphoreus might one day come to have a future, even if she would never be a part of that future. And how Caelus and the outlanders were the only people to have any memory of her.
Mydei wishes he could remember her too. He’d surely have gotten along with someone so gentle and noble. Sometimes, when he closes his eyes, he can almost picture an image of short pink hair, mischievous violet eyes, a charming pink dress, feather in her hair. And then it scatters like smoke in the wind, with only a strange sensation of absence remaining, like something in his code was missing.
He knows the other Chrysos Heirs feel it too, especially Phainon. They had been together when it all began. Sometimes he’d stumble across Phainon sitting here, at the same place, just staring quietly. He’d have felt it keenly as well, a bitter reminder of his own powerlessness throughout the cycles.
“After you went to spar,” Caelus says, trying to make conversation. “I went to visit the professor and Hyacine, then spent some time with Castorice and Polyxia, they were really interested in seeing the Holy Grail.”
He’d heard that Castorice and her sister had been involved in the Holy Grail war too. She’d even been involved in something called a ‘livestream’. Mydei smiles at the memory of her showing the other heirs her souvenirs, he’d never seen her eyes that bright and sparkly. It is then he truly understood that there were things in the outside world that they could never get here.
“I see.” Mydei replies.
“Are you okay, by the way? You seem troubled.” He should have known better than to let his guard down around the outlander. Caelus often acted dumb, but he was much sharper than he let on, able to discern intentions easily with just a glance or a conversation. He was so much like Phainon in that way, and these kinds of people were the most dangerous of all. “You were acting weird earlier too, is there something on your mind?”
There is something about Caelus that is disarming and trustworthy, enough to make anybody drop their guard. Mydei can tell that he truly means no harm and as much as he wants to keep his feelings to himself, perhaps there is value in sharing his burden with someone.
Mydei sighs. “I don’t want to bother you.” The Trailblazer had already been through hell to help them, they owed him too much.
“It’s no burden at all!” Caelus grins, pulling Mydei down to sit beside him. “You’re always keeping so many things to yourself. Even when we were in the cycles I could never get you to open up.”
“I regret not being able to help you before, but I want to help you now.” Caelus says, his gaze sincere.
Well, why not. If there was anyone who could understand the Deliverer aside from himself, it would be the other Deliverer.
“I just get the feeling that the Deliverer—I mean, Phainon, is unhappy here in the Exotale.”
Caelus blinks. “Why do you say that?”
“He seemed really happy to join the Holy Grail war. I think he really misses it, fighting, I mean. He would have enjoyed travelling with the Astral Express if that was a possibility.”
Caelus stares at him quietly with large golden eyes, prompting him to keep going.
“I try to keep up with him, as I always have. But it seems that even I am not able to give him what he wants.”
“Mydei,” Caelus interrupts. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Phainon wants to be here in Amphoreus, he even went back early. He could have stayed longer, there was enough wishpower to sustain his form for a couple more days.”
Mydei blinks at him, he must have been mistaken. “Returned early? What for?”
Caelus shrugs. “He said there was something important he had to go back for.”
Mydei racks his brain for important events in recent memory that would make Phainon cut short an expedition among the stars. Nothing of note came to mind. They celebrated the triplet’s birthdays, Anaxagoras forced them to attend another one of his painfully long lectures, Cerydra called him in to help cook for the Grand Chrysos Restaurant for a few days because the mems wanted a holiday.
Nothing seemed particularly worth returning for, just another regular day in the peaceful Exotale.
“I still don’t understand,” Mydei says, coming up blank. “Maybe seeing the outside world would help me gain insight.”
He’d voiced it as a passing thought, not expecting a reply from Caelus until he says:
“Would you like to?”
“Excuse me?”
“Would you like to come aboard the Astral Express for a couple of days?” Caelus repeats his offer, almost too good to be true.
Mydei stares at him. “How are you going to do that?”
From his understanding, they couldn’t really leave the Exotale. The people in Amphoreus didn’t actually exist, they were more like fragments of a code with a consciousness, and didn’t have any physical forms to carry over into the real world. Not for now, at least.
Caelus lights up. “The planet we’re docked at now, Planarcardia, has something called ‘wishpower’. Using it, I believe I can temporarily manifest your physical form.”
“And you’d do that for me?” Mydei blinks, incredulous.
Caelus just shrugs his shoulders again, like he hadn’t realized the gravity of what he was offering Mydei. “Why not? I think it sounds like fun! I’d always wanted to take you on board the train to visit the Xianzhou Luofu.”
“The Xianzhou… Luofu?” Mydei repeats.
He’d come across this name while reading the databank entries. The Xianzhou Alliance were a group of people who were followers of the Hunt, many of them lived for thousands of years, spending their lifetimes perfecting their combat skills.
Mydei had always been curious about them, considering his own primum mobile. Warriors with so much experience… he could surely learn a lot from them.
“Yeah!” Caelus says, getting excited. “I know just the guy who’d really like to meet you! General of the Xianzhou Luofu and my personal friend, Jing Yuan. I think you two would get along great!”
The more Mydei listens, the more intrigued he becomes. There is such a large world out there that he hadn’t even seen. Warriors who have fought greater enemies, trained completely differently, perfected techniques he couldn’t even imagine. If he could learn from these great warriors, bring those lessons back home, he could use them to improve conditions for the Kremnoans and maybe even…
He could be a better partner for Phainon, in sparring, he means.
Someone more worthy of being his equal, who could keep him on his toes.
Then maybe Phainon wouldn’t need to think of looking beyond the stars for opponents anymore.
“You can really do that?” He asks again hesitantly, afraid of getting his hopes up too much.
“Yes!” Caelus says enthusiastically. He rises to his feet and bounces up and down, excited by the prospect. “It’ll be so much fun! I need to go back to the train and discuss it with the rest of the crew, should we meet back here tomorrow? Ooh, I’ll bring Dan Heng along with me, he’s THE Xianzhou expert...”
Mydei just lets Caelus ramble on as his speech gets faster and faster in his excitement. He can’t lie, it all does sound… really fun. He wouldn’t be gone for long, just enough to broaden his horizons and bring back what he’s learned to Amphoreus.
And a selfish part of him is curious as well.
What does the world outside the Exotale look like?