"Discordia has prepared this room for you until everyone is done."

Phanmorra's words faded into the silence, yet Adam gave no sign he had heard. He sat where she had left him, eyes vacant, his breathing uneven. His shoulders trembled, not from rage or exhaustion, but from something deeper. The steady trickle of tears down his cheeks spoke louder than any words he could manage.

Phanmorra lingered, her form wavering slightly as though even she did not know what to say. "You should rest. Time will not stop for you, but at least you may gather yourself before the next step."

Still, Adam did not answer. His lips parted once, but the sound caught in his throat. His hand tightened into a fist against his leg, then loosened again, as if he no longer trusted his own strength to hold on.

The silence thickened. The room around him felt suffocating, heavy with a grief that did not belong here but clung to him all the same. Phanmorra finally withdrew, their voice lowering to a whisper. "She gave you what she could. Do not let it crush you."

When they were gone, Adam pressed his palms against his face. The tears came harder, no longer silent but spilling out in ragged sobs that echoed faintly off the stone walls. The words of Arachne, her apologies, her revelation, burned into his mind, refusing to fade.

For the first time in his life, Adam was unable to stop himself from crying. The idea that the one who had anchored him, the one he loved and the one he had trusted had taken residence in his mind but didn't tell him?! He felt betrayed and heartbroken.

His chest heaved as he tried to swallow the sobs, but they came anyway, breaking through the walls he had built around himself. Every memory of her words, every sly smile, every moment of her teasing replayed in his mind. None of it had been false, yet all of it now felt hollow. She had been there all along, and he had not known.

The throne in the cave. The tears she shed when she saw him. The way she clung to him as though he was the last piece of her world. Those moments twisted painfully inside him, because for her, it had been centuries of solitude, despair, and silence. For him, it had been ignorance.

He curled forward, burying his face into his arms. "Why… why would you hide this from me?" His voice cracked and the words fell weakly against the stone. "Why couldn't you just tell me? I would have…" His throat closed before he could finish. He did not even know what he would have done.

The shadows around the room seemed to grow heavier with his grief, though no one was there to see it. Only the faint hum of the system lingered in the air, like a distant heartbeat. Adam's tears pooled against his sleeves, his hands trembling as he clutched at the fabric.

He wanted to hate her for it. He wanted to scream at her, to curse her name and swear never to forgive her. But he could not. Because beneath the betrayal, beneath the sharp sting of heartbreak, was the memory of her face when she cried his name. That raw desperation had not been an illusion. It was real, and it crushed him even more.

His voice was hoarse when he finally whispered, "You were lonely, weren't you?" The sound barely carried, a question asked to no one, yet it hung heavy in the room as though the stone walls themselves had heard.

The silence gave him no answer.

Adam closed his eyes, but sleep did not come. Only the weight of sorrow pressing down, leaving him to drown in the truth he had never asked to know.

Adam sat for a long time, his face buried in his hands, until the slow, uneven rhythm of his breathing steadied. His tears had not fully stopped, but his body could no longer muster the strength for sobs. His mind felt raw, torn between anger and grief, and yet in the quiet, another thought finally pressed itself forward.

The orb.

He lifted his head, his eyes falling to the faint glimmer at the side of the bed. The sphere rested there, waiting, its glow subtle but constant, as though it pulsed with its own breath. He reached for it with a trembling hand, hesitating before his fingers closed around the smooth surface. Warmth seeped into his skin the moment he touched it, not harsh, not burning, but soft and strangely familiar.

His heart tightened. She had given this to him.

Curiosity pushed past the fog of sorrow. He needed to know what this was, what it meant. He drew in a slow breath, steadied his hand, and called forth the skill. "Analysis."

The system's light shimmered faintly across the orb, text blooming before his eyes. At first, he thought he had misread it. His eyes widened, his body stiffening as he leaned closer. The words burned themselves into his mind.

[Divine Memory Core]Description: The crystallization of the memories of a Goddess.Contained within: The life, knowledge, and experiences of Arachne, Weaver of Fate.

Condition of Use: Only the One with the recognition of Arachne herself has right to access the memories.

Currently Recognized: Arachne.

Adam's breath caught. His fingers nearly slipped as he gripped the orb tighter, staring at it as though it might vanish. The memories of a Goddess. Not just an echo. Not just fragments. Her memories. All of them.

He realized in that moment what he was holding. It was not a weapon. It was not a tool. It was her life. Every joy, every sorrow, every choice that had shaped her. This was the other Arachne, the one who had sat upon the throne with eyes filled with centuries of grief. She had entrusted it to him.

A shiver ran through him. His mind raced with possibilities. If he used it, would he see through her eyes? Would he know what she had endured, what had broken her, what had led her to the state she had been in? Would he carry the weight of all her memories, or would it change him into something else entirely?

His thumb brushed across the orb's surface. It pulsed again beneath his touch, and he thought for a fleeting second that he heard her voice. A whisper, soft and faint, like silk unraveling in the wind.

He sat in silence for a long time, his hand tightening around the orb until his knuckles turned white. The truth refused to settle quietly in his chest. His mother… the woman who had raised him, beaten down by life, broken in body and spirit… she was Arachne. Not just connected to her. Not just a fragment of her. She was her.

And that changed everything.

It was his fault.

Every chain that bound her in the Hall of Judgement was forged because of her love for him. Every second she lingered there in silence was a punishment she should never have borne. The realization drove a spike into his chest that made it hard to breathe.

He could not allow it to continue.

He raised his head, eyes fixed on the dim ceiling as if he could see through it to the heavens above. The Hall of Judgement. That was where they had buried her, hidden her behind divine walls for daring to care for her own son. His jaw locked, rage flooding through him.

"For me… she was sealed for me," Adam whispered, voice rough with bitterness. His nails bit into his palms. "Then for her, I will tear those halls apart."

The plan that entered his mind grew sharper with each passing heartbeat. He would go to Discordia first. She was a goddess, and she had power enough to bend the rules of the divine order if she wished. If there was even the smallest chance that she would listen, he would take it.

His mother had sacrificed everything for him. It was his turn now.

He rose slowly, his expression carved into something cold and unyielding. Gone was the silent grief that had stolen his voice since his return. What filled him now was conviction, dark and unshakable.

For his mother, he would destroy everything.