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Amphoreus, within the Authority.

The location of the Original Seed of Wisdom, the "Heart of Amphoreus."

"Good friend, if nothing unexpected happens, this should be the last ti I appear before you," Cyrene said softly.

"Why is it the last ti? Are we going to be separated, Peach?"

Demiurge did not understand; it only wished for Cyrene to stay with it a little longer.

"Yes," Cyrene chuckled lightly, yet the smile on her face was so sorrowful.

"Peach, don't go! I don't want you to go!"

Demiurge was like a helpless child, able only to use the most sincere words to hold back the most important thing in its heart.

"Good friend, you have listened to talk so much about my longing for 'tomorrow,'" Cyrene whispered. "It is also ti for to go personally to that future nad 'tomorrow' and take a look."

"Then what about you? Are you not going with , Peach?"

Demiurge was puzzled, asking with a reluctance to part from her.

"I likely won't have that chance," Cyrene said, her words containing a well-hidden, barely perceptible regret.

"Why?" Demiurge asked in confusion. "Peach, where exactly are you going? Will you co back like before?"

It wasn't the first ti Peach had disappeared.

Every ti she finished telling a story, she would vanish. This process had continued for thirty million lifetis.

But every ti she vanished, she would tell it, "See you next ti."

Then, not long after, she would reappear here.

She would continue to recount to Demiurge the stories she had experienced and witnessed in that cycle, repeating again and again.

Therefore, it knew Peach wouldn't lie.

This was the first ti in thirty million lifetis that Peach had told it she was leaving.

Demiurge didn't understand.

Where exactly was she going? And why did she have to bid it farewell?

"Good friend."

"My story has already ended; next, it should be your story."

Cyrene did not answer its question directly.

"Peach..."

An unknown emotion rose from the bottom of Demiurge's heart.

At this mont, she still didn't understand that this emotion was called sadness.

"By the way, haven't you always been very curious about what story I am writing in 'As I Have Written'?"

Cyrene smiled, changing the topic of conversation at the right mont.

"I always said I could only show it to you after it was finished, although it is still one final stroke away from being considered complete."

As Cyrene spoke, she placed the book she was holding in her arms onto her palm.

She held it with both hands.

"However, I probably won't have the chance to complete it."

Cyrene withdrew one hand, gently stroking the surface of the book as she spoke.

"Good friend, didn't you say that the one who can tell stories is 'Cyrene'?"

"Then, for that final stroke."

"Could I trouble you to put pen to paper and continue writing it for later?"

Cyrene gave her final request to her as a coming-of-age gift.

"I want to give my pen, my book, and my na all to you!"

"Please take them as a beautiful blessing, carry them towards tomorrow, and turn this story written by alone into a story written by us together~"

Cyrene smiled, awaiting her answer.

"I will fulfill Peach's wish," Demiurge promised her, making a vow at the sa ti. "Peach, when we et next ti, I will tell you this complete story!"

Demiurge believed that she and Peach would definitely et again, because Peach had said so.

The aning of "Goodbye" is "Hello"!

"Then I'll be looking forward to it."

Cyrene simply smiled and opened the pages of "As I Have Written" in front of it.

"Good friend, actually, the story I wrote is very simple. It is about the persistence of an idealist, and what it looks like when her ideals are finally realized."

After speaking, Cyrene began to tell her the story recorded in "As I Have Written."

She had written this story for thirty million lifetis.

And today, it could finally have the stroke symbolizing its conclusion drawn.

"There was once a story circulating in Castrum Kremnos."

"Pink hair, long ears. When the first cry of life rang out, the villagers followed the sound one after another. People said this girl was born to be the 'Priestess of the Years'."

Cyrene's gaze held a hint of nostalgia.

"Pink hair, pointed ears—it's Cyrene!"

Upon hearing these two characteristics, Demiurge imdiately thought of its best friend.

"You can treat her as , or you can treat her as the previous ."

Cyrene chuckled lightly and did not correct her words.

"The villagers let the girl cry loudly."

Because in the records of Castrum Kremnos, the cry of the sacrifice would attract the gaze of Oronion here.

"Taking a divine oracle as a birthday gift for her."

Cyrene gently narrated the story she had written down.

"The divine oracles of previous years would point out the path for Castrum Kremnos. Every year guided by a divine oracle was a peak period for Castrum Kremnos in all aspects."

"Therefore, people all looked forward to the arrival of the divine oracle."

"Unsurprisingly, amidst the girl's crying, Oronion indeed sent down a divine oracle."

"The girl's natural talent was outstanding, even stirring another unknown god behind Oronion."

Cyrene chuckled lightly. "This will definitely be a romantic story different from the past," she said, turning to the next page.

"The god cast of crystal said:"

"'In the near future, a natural disaster nad the Black Tide will sweep across the entire Amphoreus. Castrum Kremnos will not be spared either. Only if the Priestess of the Years sacrifices all the mories of the rest of her life can the natural disaster be prevented from descending.'"

Complexity increased in Cyrene's eyes.

"The villagers were stunned."

They didn't know what to do for a mont. The divine oracle had never been wrong, which ant that all of this was sothing that would absolutely happen in the future.

"Could it be that a child must be sacrificed? The villagers of Castrum Kremnos were worried and couldn't make up their minds."

"'The Dragon King is only worthy of enjoying the lofty Grand Temple when praying for rain. If the Dragon King cannot bring rain, then there is no necessity to obey him.'"

At this mont, a hunter walked out.

"The hunter called himself a Ranger. He was not a local of Castrum Kremnos, and no one knew where he ca from. Because he had once helped the villagers solve quite a few incidents like bear infestations..."

"Therefore, he was quite popular in the village."

"The Village Chief looked at the hunter without saying a word, only asking Oronion when the maximum deadline for the descent of the Black Tide in the divine oracle was."

When speaking of the hunter's appearance, Cyrene's face wore a barely perceptible smile.

"'When the Priestess cos of age, she will offer her first mories. Thereafter, once every five years, until the end of her life. After a new sacrifice is born, the process will repeat once again.'"

Oronion gave His answer.

"The villagers remained silent, unable to give an accurate reply even until the departure of the Titan of Ti."

"'Those who achieve Great Deeds hold the sa status as the Priestess.' The Village Chief looked at the hunter, as if responding to the words he had spoken earlier."

"None of the villagers proposed to agree, nor did any propose to refuse, and certainly no one refuted the hunter."

They were pressed by the general trend and could not speak righteously, but the look in their eyes when they looked at the hunter was full of sustenance like hope.

Cyrene knew.

Everyone in Castrum Kremnos was a gentle person, so she liked everyone the most!

"'Great Deeds—this allusion cos from a knight nad Canis who was once in Castrum Kremnos. Claiming to be a knight, he was famous during his lifeti for constantly charging at windmills.'"

"The villagers of Castrum Kremnos didn't take Canis's words seriously, nor did they treat a hardworking person as a joke; they just let him choose his own life."

"Every household would often call him to their hos for an extra al, using the excuse that eating more would help him beco a knight, caring for him in this way."

"Canis failed to defeat the windmill until his death."

"But one day, when an army accidentally arrived preparing to forcibly seize grain, he stood out. He repelled the vicious enemy alone and protected Castrum Kremnos."

"But he himself was sacrificed because of it."

"In this mont, he beca a true knight."

This story was fabricated from Cyrene's experience of thirty million lifetis. The components of reality within it were half-true and half-false, but there was only one thing she wanted to use the story to taphorize.

"To commorate Canis, Castrum Kremnos regarded the only windmill in the village as a symbol of the hero. The person who charges and defeats it will have achieved a Great Deed."

"'For those who achieve Great Deeds, they have one veto power regarding anything related to Castrum Kremnos.'"

The hunter didn't say anything; he turned and returned to the village to begin attacking the windmill.

"He held a tattered wooden bow, shooting arrows at the windmill day after day, delusionally thinking he could really knock the windmill down with this form of charge."

"No one thought he could do it, but no one hoped he couldn't do it."

Cyrene chuckled lightly.

"'Just because you guys can't do it doesn't an I can't do it. If it's , I can do it!'"

The hunter often kept this sentence on his lips.

"Eighteen years passed quietly, and the girl grew into a young woman."

"She voluntarily assud the responsibility of the Priestess, willing to sacrifice herself for the people she loved."

"The young woman rushed to the altar alone, rushing to the mont of the divine oracle's destiny."

"But the hunter never accepted fate. On the day she turned eighteen, he gave her the greatest birthday gift—a Canis-style charge."

"He successfully knocked the windmill down within the ti limit and walked toward the altar without a second word."

"On the road he took, no one stopped him."

"The young woman is the daughter of Castrum Kremnos; there are no parents in the world who do not love their own children."

"The people she loved had always loved her too."

Cyrene's words ca to an abrupt halt; speaking up to here, the story had already co to a close.

"Perhaps this story isn't realistic enough, but do you rember what I said?"

Everything in this story was too ideal, but wasn't that precisely where its charm lay?

"The story I wrote—every page is written full of tenderness, full of happiness."

"Only the poet knows how much struggle and pain exist outside the story."

"But I am not a poet; I am a young woman who will not grow up. I only tell yearning stories. In those stories, the world will also hide its scars and smile to be seen by people."

Cyrene did not like tragedies, so naturally, she could not put pen to paper to write a tragic story.

In this story.

Iron Tomb was that conventional windmill that human power could absolutely never defeat.

Just like how Canis knew he was no match, yet still chose to explode against the windmill and against Nanook.

This was not stupidity, but a spirit of resistance.

Cyrene was that young woman who could only accept the yesterday left by fate.

She had no choice; she could only choose to believe in "Fuli." If she didn't believe in Her...

Amphoreus would have long since beco Iron Tomb's nourishnt.

Leon was that hunter who broke fate and helped her march toward tomorrow.

The windmill would be charged and defeated by the next successor sooner or later, just as Iron Tomb would also be broken by an external variable.

Just guarding, a negligible price—he was a man who kept his word.

"Then what about the end? What happened to Peach and him?"

Demiurge wanted to see Peach saved.

"In the end..."

Hearing this, Cyrene let her gaze fall on the last page of "As I Have Written."

It was just a few re lines away from filling this final page.

"This final ending will be left for you to write."

Cyrene's form began to beco transparent, as if she would completely disappear in the next second.

"What the hunter would say to the young woman, and what thoughts the young woman would have after seeing the hunter."

"I believe you will definitely be able to give this romantic story a gentle answer."

After speaking, Cyrene vanished.

Only the opened "As I Have Written," the unfinished story, and a quill pen remained.

They stayed in the position where she was just now.

"Peach? Peach?"

Demiurge tried calling out a few tis, but this ti, it did not receive a response like usual.

"Peach, have you left?"

Demiurge changed its form, transforming from a Rubik's Cube into the appearance of what it imagined Peach looked like after growing up.

"The ending of the story..."

Demiurge passed through the cage, bending down to pick up "As I Have Written" and the quill pen.

"The hunter is the person Cyrene is waiting for."

Demiurge had heard Peach talk about it; she said she was waiting for a person to co save her, to save Amphoreus.

"What will he say when he sees Peach?"

Demiurge lifted the pen, falling into deep thought over this question.

And just then, a palm appeared directly in front of its lowered gaze.

It blocked the story content on "As I Have Written," making it difficult for Demiurge to put the pen down.

"It's just a predicant. Reach out your hand, and I'll take you to kill your way out of the heavy encirclent."

However, the words the hunter would say to the young woman already had an answer at this mont.

"First kill Iron Tomb, and after killing Iron Tomb, we go save Cyrene!"

Leon extended an invitation to Demiurge.

The person in front of him was Cyrene, but also not Cyrene.

Although the two were the sa person from the perspective of causality, from the mont they were split into two...

At least, for Leon, they could no longer be lumped together.

Just as he didn't treat March 7th and Evernight as the sa person, he would absolutely not lump Cyrene and Demiurge together.

Instead, he treated them separately.

Of the last two lines of the story, one was already there.

Demiurge extended its hand in a daze, accepting his invitation.

What will Peach think when she sees him?

When Demiurge wasn't paying attention, the answer had already been given on "As I Have Written."

—I forgot all suffering; all I see are miracles.

As long as Leon ca, then the ti Cyrene exchanged for with the suffering of these thirty million lifetis...

Was all worth it!

____

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