Lygus keenly caught that fleeting frown from Phaethon. His calm voice sounded again, and this time, he offered a temptation capable of making anyone's heart race:
"I can help Khaslana fully integrate that 'Destruction' golden blood originating from Nanook's creation wound, making his power pure and stable."
"At that time, he will truly ascend to become the Emanator of 'Destroying Destruction.' His very existence will be the most direct challenge to Nanook..."
"Then, I can also help you." Lygus's "gaze" turned to Phaethon himself. "Help your still-struggling nascent Path find... a clever 'connection' with the Path of Destruction."
"Not making the Paths independent of each other, but establishing a state of symbiosis or mutual opposition. Through this, you might be able to bypass the fundamental conceptual suppression that Nanook's ascension imposes on all subsequent new Paths."
His voice lowered slightly, carrying a seductive undertone:
"Then... you, Asterion, would have a chance to become that unique type of existence in this galaxy—an Aeon."
Lygus quietly "gazed" at Phaethon with his sole remaining mechanical head, his voice continuing smoothly without pause:
"I don't even... need anything. No form of compensation, no additional conditions attached. I just want to see how far you, who broke free from the cage, can go. Asterion, I wonder... what do you think of my proposal?"
This was nearly an irresistible gift, offering assistance on the path to becoming an Aeon, helping Phaethon gain power to confront Destruction, and the only cost was... accepting this "goodwill" from an enemy.
Phaethon was silent for a moment. The air seemed to freeze, with only the surrounding displays replaced by wheat field images radiating an incongruous warm glow.
The expression on his face slowly shifted from initial gravity, eventually transforming into a very light chuckle.
"Thank you for the reminder. I'll keep the threat of Destruction firmly in mind." Phaethon's voice was clear and steady.
"Your proposal... is indeed tempting enough—tempting enough to make most beings set aside past grievances, even make a deal with the devil."
He paused, his gaze becoming sharp and resolute:
"But... I'm sorry, I must refuse."
"Hmm?... I see." Lygus's response came with almost no delay, as if long expected.
Looking at the expression on Phaethon's face, Lygus's voice carried a hint of understanding: "An expected outcome."
He began a calm self-analysis, his tone like deconstructing a failed experiment:
"After all... to those 'electrical signals' I once configured, observed, and erased countless times in Amphoreus..."
"No, I should say—to all the lives of Amphoreus, now that you've granted them true meaning and completed their ascension... I am indeed the 'sinner' with the most blood on my hands, who created the most tragedies."
"Wrong is wrong." Lygus's statement was exceptionally concise, without pretense or self-exculpation.
"I won't seek any noble excuses for my actions, nor will I make excuses for the 'sins' I've committed. Because no matter what I do, the evils once committed and their consequences cannot be forgotten..."
But then, Lygus shifted his tone, his voice carrying a hint of academic curiosity:
"However... I thought you might choose a more 'rational' approach—for instance, accepting my help first, fully utilizing the knowledge and methods I provide to achieve your goals and strengthen your power."
"Then, after I've lost all value... neatly kill me." He calmly stated this most "reasonable" outcome for himself, as if discussing the disposal of discarded experimental equipment.
At this moment, Phaethon raised his right hand. The outline of the greatsword "World-Saving Dawn," symbolizing new life and declaration, began to materialize.
Yet, just as the blade was about to fully appear, Phaethon's movement hesitated for an instant.
He gazed at the mechanical head in his palm, utterly unresisting, even carrying a meaning of "go ahead." A complex flicker of light passed through his eyes.
Finally, he shook his head. The greatsword "Dawn" was dismissed, dissolving into nothingness.
Then, he flexed his right arm, his elbow joint emitting a faint crack.
He looked at Lygus and chuckled twice:
"Foolish. Don't you know my 'ability'—killing you? The methods and knowledge in your memory banks about fusing Golden Blood, Path connections, bypassing suppression... they'd also become 'mine'..."
"However..." Phaethon shifted tone, his voice carrying a consideration approaching "mercy." "Considering you were sensible enough to remind me about the real threat of Destruction..."
He deliberately paused, as if weighing options.
"I'll... give you a relatively quick death." He said it lightly, as if this was already a great favor.
Phaethon tilted his head slightly, muttering in a tone almost like casual conversation, yet enough to make any intelligent being's hair stand on end:
"Originally... I had prepared a whole series of more 'creative' plans."
"For instance, directly injecting carefully designed logical paradoxes into your core processor, or setting up an endless recursive task that could never escape, instantly occupying all your computational power, trapping all your thinking and behavior in permanent stagnation and infinite loops, like an insect frozen in amber."
He counted on his fingers, continuing the enumeration, his tone growing ever more "animated":
"Then, overwrite and cram massive amounts of completely disordered and meaningless junk information into all your sensors."
"Just imagine—countless demonically looping meme virus videos, piercing noise signals, visually polluting flickering patterns... all rushing in at once, forcing your already stagnant system to 'dutifully' attempt to process this unprocessable garbage data until every logic gate overloads and burns out."
Finally, he revealed a smile that, to Lygus, could only be described as "demonic":
"When your system is on the verge of collapse, approaching 'brain death'... then package all kinds of random viruses you can find on the market, along with those inferior antivirus software even more terrifying than viruses, and stuff them all into your pitiful brain. Let them fight each other amidst your system ruins for an ultimate 'breeding pests' competition."
He shrugged, concluding: "That scene would surely be very... 'lively,' and quite fun. But forget it—who says my mood today is... tolerable?"
"Heh heh..." Lygus dared not say another word. From that broken head, only two barely forced "dry laughs" emerged.
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