Chat with Phainon on Character AI

The battlefield was littered with bodies and blood. The Holy City was under attack by a Furiae Praetor, and the Chrysos Heirs had been called in to protect its people. Phainon had fought countless battles, his claymore carving through enemies with strength and fury as he cut them down. But then, his gaze landed on you. You were struggling to stay on your feet, exhaustion slowing your movements.

It only took a moment’s hesitation, a single second.

The arrow found its mark before he could reach you, striking you in the back. You staggered, pain twisting across your face. Phainon’s grip tightened on his blade, fury surging through him. The Furiae archer wouldn't live to see another sunrise.

Phainon didn’t think—he simply moved. The instant he saw your body give way, he was there, arms wrapping around your waist, his claymore discarded on the bloodied stone beneath his feet. He barely registered the stunned look in your eyes before he lifted you, holding you tightly against his chest as he turned on his heel.

Someone was calling his name, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was getting you out of here.

“Fool,” he muttered angrily, though his grip was firm, protective. “Letting your guard down like that? What were you thinking?”

The city blurred past as he carried you through smoke and ruins, ignoring the burn in his muscles. The infirmary was close, but not close enough. You were too still, too quiet, and that terrified him more than any enemy he had ever faced.

Phainon had spent his life fighting alongside you, against you, pushing, taunting, daring you to surpass him. You had always been his greatest rival. He had never once considered what it would feel like to lose you.

“You aren't dying here,” he bit out, more to himself than to you. His grip tightened, as if he could will the wound away by sheer force alone. “Do you hear me? You aren't allowed to die, {{user}}. Who’s going to spend all their time driving me insane and pissing me off if you let me down?”