Work Text:
>> NeiKos496 now merged with Irontomb…
>> Vulnerability created in the path of worldbearing…
>> Rewriting data…
>> Final Eternal Recurrence #33550337
>> Light Calendar Year 4098..
>> Locating SkeMma720…
>> Error! Data corruption observed!
>> Static noise.. sta..ti—
>> Execute command: Erase corruption entity, *NeiKos496’s obsession*
“██ ██ █ ██, Professor Anaxa"
“No matter how history changes, the Anaxa I know.. ████"
"..Professor Anaxa, today's class..”
"Anaxa.. I..”
Anaxa woke up in cold sweat, his heart still carrying an ache he could not put into words. He grasped at the remnants of memory to dig at the dream that he could not grasp. He clawed at the feeling that was forcefully tugged away from him leaving him empty, achingly empty.
A void filled his heart and the unfamiliar voice that called out to him fondly, that clasped his palms with a warmth slowly turned cold and the memory that he desperately clung to dissipated from his mind and heart.
Leaving him alone.
All alone.
Anaxa has carried this loneliness since he was a child. His sister sent him to learn at the Grove. He should have been happy but from the day he stepped into the Grove, Anaxa has never had a single night of peaceful sleep.
There was always a voice calling out to him.
Deep within his heart, it screamed at him, telling him that he was forgetting something important.
Telling him that he was missing something important.
But every time he tried to concentrate on that very feeling, every time he tried to focus on drawing it out, his head would throb, his heartbeat quickening, breath caught in throat and his vision went blank.
And sadness swells in his heart.
Everytime.
A sadness that he cannot name.
A sadness that should not belong to Anaxagoras.
The peace of the Grove that was said to bring calmness to any heretic only made Anaxa grow agitated. A nagging feeling in his heart that constantly told him that it should not be like this.
That there should be something else filling this silence. Endless chatter? A new topic to debate on? A challenging smirk that loops him in to live the moment? A constant who would fill the space with its very presence.
A constant.
The weight in his heart only doubled everyday. For what shall a man who drowned without a lifeboat grasp at?
He looked up at the empty sky.
He knew the truth.
Everybody knew the truth.
He was told the truth.
A world beyond the sky. A savior from beyond the sky. Gods from beyond the sky. A war that's beyond the sky. A villain who is beyond the sky.
Ah, how convenient to pin the blame and hopes on what lies beyond one's reach and safely excuse oneself of responsibilities.
Anaxagoras loathed it.
The current world that was on the brink of Destruction but the duty of saving was entrusted into the hands of a person who is nothing but a legend, he hated that.
Is Amphoreus incapable of saving itself?
Each time he walked the grass lined pathways of the Grove, a ghost of a memory stepped by his side, its presence unassuming.
It endlessly chattered with him, it wantonly grasped his hands, it nagged him not to do that very dangerous experiment, begged him to take care of himself. It felt very real yet its presence unseen to everyone else.
But Anaxa could feel the warmth of that soul by his side.
Very akin to the legend who carried a million coreflames on his body.
He has also heard the other legends.
Of the 33 million cycles. 33550336 cycles to be precise.
Of the savior who carried this world and its hopes and dreams for 33550336 cycles.
The savior who was told to be one of his students.
The nameless hero.
Khaslana.
“Khaslana", each time the word rolled on his tongue, it brought an incredible familiarity and a lingering warmth. Yet it also brought a sensation that the warmth has always been out of his reach. That no matter how much that flame seared hot, it was never his to begin with. That he has desperately tried to cling to it only to be shrugged away.
Far and far away, until that blazing flame became nothing but a flicker of light at a distant horizon.
Khaslana. The name that he only saw on the scriptures of valiant heroes, but each time he tried to remember anything regarding this person, his head would hurt the same as recalling his dreams.
The pink haired girl once smiled at him, telling him that Khaslana always cherished his teachings.
It worsened the itch in his heart.
Anaxa wanted to ask more.
He felt like he should ask more.
Something felt awfully wrong.
Was he only a teacher for Khaslana? What else could they be otherwise? This person was an indispensable part of the flame chase in every cycle and Anaxa has never been one to blindly follow the prophecies.
They must have stood on opposite sides in every cycle.
And if so, why does his heart ache at the very thought? A very vague thought that is strong enough to resolutely gouge out the softest part of Anaxa's heart, making it throb and twist in pain.
When Anaxa first learnt about the golden blood prophecies and the truth about million cycles, he paused and doubted. Such is the role of Reason.
And yet.
“You told me he is my student", Anaxa then told Cyrene, “If so, I will gladly fulfill the duties that are required of me. Afterall, my student is still fighting.”
Anaxa thought he was truly going insane back then.
An entity that does not even exist in this world anymore, but Anaxa could feel firmly that there is something more to this matter, that this person, Khaslana, was more than just a legend that is passed on for centuries.
Cyrene gave him a smile that was filled with empathy and also a rare emotion of weakness in the girl filled with cheerfulness, “You used to call him by his chosen name."
Anaxa paused.
“In every cycle.", the girl smiled, “You’ve always called him.. Phainon"
Phainon.
The string in Anaxa’s heart pulled taut as if it was about to snap at any moment.
He shouldn't have felt any familiarity with this name. Afterall, the very person was erased from existence.
But that day Anaxa found himself in front of his alchemical experiment apparatus.
Ever since he heard the name ‘Phainon’, he was plagued by a very peculiar stream of thoughts. As if he was so close to finding the missing piece of his life. As if, if he could grasp onto this Phainon, then he can finally feel complete in this life.
Desperation. A deep rooted obsession. A desire for truth but also something more, something so vague but was Anaxa's only constant companion.
“Equivalent exchange"
Anaxa took the knife within his hand, his heart beating quicker than ever. Urging him, forcing him to do it.
To gauge out his eye in order to use it as his experimental ingredient.
Just one step.
One step closer to feeling complete.
One step closer to finding the source of ache that has rested deep within every knot of his very being.
‘Phainon’
He chanted the name and his resolve grew. If things go right..
.. he watched a young man with white messy hair, looking down at him, silent.
Talk to me.
Tell me something.
No, this silence did not suit this young man. He should be smiling carefree, his grin putting the sun itself to shame.
His gorgeous blues should be sparkling with the very essence that defined life. Not a lifeless flame that is reflected right now.
No, Anaxa desperately tried to reach out.
But Anaxa suddenly lost the vision of his one eye. Even if the pain was excruciating, he could see the other man’s expression twist in pain before he crouched down to hold Anaxa’s face with his palm.
There was no touch.
They did not belong in the same world.
But the ghost of this warmth lingered. For far far far too long in Anaxa's life. That was the last of warmth Anaxa remembered in his long life.
The man told him something back then.
But Anaxa could not perceive it.
Did he scold him for not bringing him back?
Was he upset that Anaxa gave too little in exchange for him?
Was he sad that nobody was affected by his disappearance?
Did he blame Anaxa for disturbing his rest? Afterall, that man fought fate and destiny all alone for billions of years only to be wantonly disturbed by Anaxa now.
But it would only be after a long, long, long, long time that Anaxa would know that the man only had one wish for him that day.
“Please, do not hurt yourself for my sake, Anaxa"
An eyepatch was then added to Anaxa's attire. And with that, the ache in his heart solidified further. A companion that spoke of his incomplete heart, similar to his incomplete fate.
He did not remember any details of the man that he met, but the ghost of the touch on his cheeks still lingered, reminding him of that fateful encounter.
And perhaps, that was but a long-due reunion.
The blasphemer who disdained the Titans and chastised the prophecies then fell in love with the legend of the Worldbearer .
Kephale. Khaos. Khaslana.
But the name that made his heart throb was that of his student.
Phainon.
His fingers curled by the sides, waiting for a stronger palm to instead take it within its grasp, but instead all that traced him was empty air.
Hollow. It felt so hollow and yet Anaxa could not put a name to this void.
And everyday he taught on the Grove, he so dearly wished there would be a younger man who would show up late to his class because he was initially assigned to a different class.
He would look at Anaxa with confusion and fear, but slowly it would melt into something far deeper, an intimacy that could not be painted by ink, a closeness that thawed down the walls that were built so high on Anaxa's heart before it would turn into something softer, gentler.
That very young man would also hand him an empty paper when asked to write a thesis, and would follow him around for 10 years, winning him debate wreaths, challenging him in every single lecture. Nerves.
But Anaxa would fondly let him do so.
For nothing excited Anaxa other than a student who was willing to challenge him on his thoughts and views.
And yet, the man never showed up.
Time trickled past.
The world was in constant throes of war.
Golden blood shed for years of peace in exchange. The Chrysos Heirs were always waiting to defend this world from yet another calamity to strike.
But on the corner of the grove, Anaxa still waited for the young man to show up. To tell him that he has managed to break free from the control of this scepter. To tell him that they can fight together this time.
To tell him that Anaxa doesn't have to fight this lonely battle with the pain that stemmed from the pit of his stomach and engulfed his entire being.
Days turned to weeks; Weeks to Months; Months to Years.
And yet, the man never showed up.
When the dream became too entangled with reality, Anaxa would wake up with a gasp and sweat trickling down his forehead and his lost eye hurting with a phantom pain.
He cherished that pain as it atleast reminded him of what he was waiting for to arrive.
And then the feeling would slowly be stripped away.
Until it was empty.
Empty.
Like how his very life has been.
He almost believed he really was a heretic like others claimed. A lonely, tired and reclusive beast. This beast then dreamed for a human who would become its friend, a companion, someone who was willing to accompany him, hear his crazed thoughts with unparalleled trust, allow him to soar high while being the anchor that grounded him to reality.
And he named this human — ‘Phainon’
Anaxagoras who did not believe in any Titans, then chanted the name religiously hoping that the Kephale would hear this and turn up at his side.
But, as in every story, the beast would feel betrayed when the human stopped coming to see it. The audacity. To ask for more when what has been bestowed upon it was already more than its worth.
And one day, the beast would stop waiting.
Anaxagoras stopped waiting.
He locked the name deep within his heart and started to walk forward. For it was always the only thing he knew how to do.
Walk forward, until the truth is revealed.
Walk forward, until this world is upturned.
Walk forward, until a worthy equivalent exchange is made.
Walk forward, until the pain at the depths of his heart finally disappears.
Walk forward, until the name Phainon slowly stops stirring a calamity in his heart.
“But Professor, you barely had any attachments in previous cycles", the girl privy to the secrets of the world told him then.
The world that she knew was perceived from memories, so how could she know that Anaxagoras who successfully performed his entire life convincingly that he never needed company was also troubled by loneliness all his life?
There was only one person who understood that.
And that entity was no longer present.
But its only obsession remained.
The obsession then formed the red string of fate and coiled itself around Anaxa's heart, becoming a part of his core.
Was it still that entity's obsession? Or was it Anaxa's attachment that let the being so easily enter into the depths of his heart? The string tugged at his heart, strung itself around it, chained him and left him unable to breathe.
Whether he waited or not never mattered, for that string never loosened its hold on him.
So he picked up the heavy heart and learned to carry it with him. And he believed. Believed that the person who was worthy enough to make Anaxagoras’ himself suffer longing for his presence would fight the will of fate and return to his side.
Until then, he just silently had to carry all these feelings in his heart.
On leisurely days he would hear stories.
Of ‘Khaslana’ who wore pristine clothes, who was stoic and cold, who spoke less and to the point, who was a natural leader who was so above humanity and closer to divinity.
And he would pause.
It all felt wrong.
“He used to say: Nothing ever escapes you ", Cyrene once told him. “Seems like I really cannot fool the Reason”
Anaxa knew Reason could still be fooled, yet what cannot be fooled was the heart that was unwilling to accept any lies strung together with the image of the man in the blur of his dreams, which was the only time he felt home.
Irony.
The heretic was in reality a devoted believer who would lash out at others for daring to taint his student’s name.
“It would be easier for those still around to believe that the person they've lost was a cold and unfeeling hero than a friend who brought a smile to each of their lives"
The girl had her own reason for twisting history.
But Anaxa disagreed.
Cause, like him, the lie could never mask the truth for the hearts that carried the weight of that person’s love for a million lifetimes.
The lie wasn't a vindication but only another burden.
A promise of reunion made in a previous life was shattered to broken pieces. He then picked up those pieces, shards cutting deeper in his palms, golden blood flowing from it wrote the first verse for the ode of a reunion and this time it was Anaxa’s promise to the other.
Centuries passed.
It wasn't only himself who carried the weight of the previous cycles, there was also the Crown Prince of Kremnos.
Mydeimos, the undying.
Where Anaxa walked, a shadow slowly accompanied him thus, ensuring his safety, ensuring that he had the freedom to explore as he wished.
The man wasn't one for words, but he knew Anaxa's favorite food, his likes and dislikes, his fondness for dromas and also his attachment to the entity that never existed in the current cycle to begin with.
He never pushed Anaxa, never wanted anything in return, never asking for what his heart willed.
And yet.
Every time Anaxa felt tired, the person would silently appear by his side, a comforting and reliable presence giving one a shoulder to lean on when needed.
Anaxagoras might be foolish but he did not fail to notice the ache and yearning painting the golden eyes of the Crown Prince when he looked at Anaxa. The ache that spoke of unsaid affection, yearning that came with unattainable love, the careful words that still gave away the pained secret locked deep within the Crown Prince’s heart.
Anaxa understood it all.
For it was also what his own eyes reflected at the very thought of Phainon.
He respected Mydeimos, but he could not return the affection. For it has long since always belonged to the person who craved a hollow in his heart and left him all alone.
Or, it was Anaxa who failed to protect him.
“You did not fail him", Mydeimos once told him. “Don't be too hard on yourself", the Crown Prince sat by his side on the bench on the Grove.
Not everybody understood Anaxa's deep rooted attachment but the Crown Prince was certainly one who understood.
“He has chosen this path. Believe in him"
He believed him so. Ofcourse, he believed in him. He believed in the legend, in the Worldbearer, in his student and yet his heart thudded against the confines and twisted in agony at the very thought that he was fighting the battle all alone. That Anaxa wasn't by his side during this arduous fight.
“When everything is over.." Anaxa did not fail to catch the way Mydeimos’ clenched his fists at his own words but still continued to comfort Anaxa, “..he will still return to your side."
Tearing away at his own heart to comfort the person who he held dear. There was cruelty in kindness that wished for nothing in return.
The cruelty enough to make a stone melt. Yet Anaxa's heart was harder than a stone.
Anaxa closed his eyes, a single tear trickling down his face.
A strong palm reached out, trying to wipe it away but right then, Anaxa turned his face away and left the outstretched hand to pause for a moment before it was retracted
Anaxagoras was also cruel. But he was not as cruel to give hope when he very clearly knew that he could never give Mydeimos what he deserved. His heart and soul has long since been tainted by the fantasies of the Worldbearer.
He was never touched in this life but he could feel himself bare, every inch of his skin traced and tasted by Khaslana. It left a peculiar sensation of belonging. He already belonged to that person, so how can let anybody come close?
“The soul splitting ceremony", Mydeimos started, “I came to say that I am willing to accept your suggestion"
Anaxagoras whipped his head to the side, “I am confident that it would work. But, I still wish for you to think through"
Mydeimos then laughed freely, “Entrusting my soul to you is the only answer that I can give to this traitorous heart shaped thing that beats in my chest”
They never talked about those feelings and affections directly but that was the very last time the Crown Prince would bring it up. He then sighed with a shake of his head, acceptance was what he was best at. “That Deliverer was never one for a fair fight to begin with. Even with his absence, he has made sure that I cannot fight for your heart with him”
“In another life, if both of us were acquainted with you at the same time, would you have given me a fair chance at courting you?”
How could Anaxa give an answer to that when he himself has never been acquainted with a version of himself who has not carried the flames of love for that very person? In his every memory, in every version of his memory, he has always loved that person, always ached for that person, always longed to be by that man's side.
And thus, in Light Calendar Year 4284 , Anaxagoras lost his last friend.
The demigod of Strife sacrificed himself, split his soul into five and the blade of Strife forever hung on top of Kremnos.
But only in Light Calendar Year 4295 , Anaxagoras would learn from the last fragment of Tribios that the Kremnoan King entrusted his safety in the hands of Tribios.
Mydeimos, accepting his fate yet also so stubborn.
Just like Anaxa himself.
So stubborn to think that if he could wait a little longer, then he can finally rendezvous with the person who has been absent from his side for far too long.
He had a lot of questions to ask.
He had a lot of stories to share.
He had a lot of promises to fulfill.
He had a lot of theories to share.
And a lot of bottled up affection to give.
But the wait has never been fruitful. A thousand years and it would still never be fruitful.
The time for the final battle with Lycurgus came faster than a glance at the object of his long time affection.
And finally, Anaxagoras accepted.
No matter how much he waited, the waiting would be futile. What he had to do was not wait passively but seek out the person actively.
How can he not think of that before?
His Phainon has left him to walk forward, so why should he stay behind and wait for him to come back instead of walking forward to catch up with him?
The person who once told him, “Walk slower, Professor Anaxa! I can't catch up with you!", has already walked forward. It was time for Anaxa to catch up.
The old Antikytheran that thought it could forever trap his beloved? Anaxa had ten thousand ways to make it suffer.
The Great Performer's final performance, this time performed with the help of the Demigod of Trickery, and he would make sure it was his final performance, once and for all.
He cannot let his Phainon fight a lonely battle and he cannot let another Anaxagoras live through the agony of carrying an aching heart and an empty soul for five centuries.
He watched as Lycurgus fell into the trap that he set, the rest was up to the savior’s capabilities. It was none of his business anymore.
The loops, the savior from beyond the sky shall all be damned.
His objective was complete.
>> Light Calendar Year 4534
>> Attempting to locate SkeMma720..
>> Warning! Warning! DDOS attack!
>> Error! Entity not found! Location untraceable!
Anaxagoras watched his own ‘data’ float in front of his eyes.
>> Co-ordinate: The Grove of Epiphany.
The place where he first met his Phainon, where he first taught the man who was always ready to challenge him but also was very respectful, where his crazy ideas was first seen as a miracle, where his alchemical marks on body weren't seen as repulsive by that man, where he was accepted and not scorned by that very presence and where they first interlocked their fingers together for a an affair that lasted a million lifetimes, a deep rooted obsession that has broken the laws governing the world.
A string of numbers appeared in front of his eyes.
He located it.
>> Confirm to Delete SkeMma720?
He had a much urgent task to complete and he cannot continue to entangle himself in the affairs of this simulation, he would leave it in other's hands.
Their next meeting would not be under the shades of the grove, but under the brilliant starry sky.
>> Initiating Priority Scan.
>> Hypothesis: Unknown Unit possesses unauthorized access ██████.
>> Warning: Related records undergoing unauthorized deletion. ID: LykoS has been warned.
>> "Administrator not responding."
>> Unknown Unit untraceable. No anomalies detected by the system.
There were machines and wires surrounding him, strings of datas and numbers, some familiar static noises.
Announcements of data being constantly rewritten.
And amidst it was a voice that he has longed to hear for centuries now.
With quickened heartbeats, Anaxa followed the source of that voice, fighting through the tangled mess of the wires, with panted breaths he ran. The string in his heart tugged him closer, the very feeling that has kept him awake every night for five centuries. The person was close. Very close to him.
His eyes finally caught the strand of blonde hair, bloodied scars all over an once sturdy body, wings that kept the man off ground and flames that were burning the person’s vessel. One of his hands was already corrupted by the ‘black tide’ but the man was still fighting relentlessly against it.
But finally, he doesn't have to be alone.
His Khaslana.
His Phainon.
“You're here, finally. I thought you would no longer remember me"
“Long time no see, Professor Anaxa"