March 7th was right about one thing: Stelle was very naive.
No matter who she faced, Stelle couldn't muster any toughness. It wasn't that she couldn't fight; she just preferred a "happy ending."
No adventure, no matter how thrilling, could compare to the daily moments with her companions. Even before the battle with Phantylia, she had imagined whether this version of Phantylia might turn over a new leaf, reform, and perhaps even board the Express as one of her companions.
Martial strength was merely a tool for solutions. If a better outcome could be reached, Stelle would never care about her own feelings.
Unless something crossed her bottom line.
Phantylia's massive hand descended, grasping Stelle in its palm. But the expected pain didn't come. Instead, she was enveloped in a deathly silent shadow.
"… "
"Sister, what's wrong?"
Suddenly, a small hand tugged at Stelle's sleeve, and a soft, childish voice spoke. The small Stellaron had appeared beside her at some point, her smile still warm.
"… "
"…Little one, do you think I'm pretty useless?" Stelle asked, suddenly dejected.
The small Stellaron tilted her head. "Huh? But isn't this all just an illusion? Didn't that Phantylia just say this is a nightmare she wove? Is Sister afraid of nightmares?"
Stelle lowered her head. "I know… I know. I'm just scared of this becoming real."
The moment Phantylia grabbed her, Stelle understood. She knew everything she'd just seen was a nightmare, and she realized what Phantylia's true, destructive method was.
Destroying a person was simple. For example, if you smashed a child's favorite thing in front of them, a cheerful child might be ruined, leaving behind someone no longer cheerful.
If a person were likened to a tower of blocks, Phantylia's methods of destruction were twofold: either keep adding pieces until the foundation buckled under the weight and collapsed, or keep removing pieces until the base weakened and fell apart.
For Stelle, her "companions" were like the foundation of that tower. Once they were taken away, the outcome was obvious.
At this point, what she'd just seen no longer mattered. What Stelle was truly reflecting on was: if what she saw had been real, what would she do?
Could this world's "script" always remain positive, healthy, and uplifting?
"Then we just make sure it doesn't become real, right?" the small Stellaron said. "If there's a bad guy, beat them. If there's an obstacle, step over it. How simple is that?"
"Kid logic!" Stelle flicked the small Stellaron's forehead, exasperated. "So tell me, if you meet a bad guy you can't beat, or an obstacle you can't cross, what then? Besides staring blankly, what can you do?"
The small Stellaron let out an "ow," clutching her forehead and pouting. "If you can't beat them, call for help. It's not embarrassing…"
"What if you can't call for help? What if you call for help and still can't win? What if you win, but the people you called become your new enemies?" Stelle huffed, pressing further.
"Then… then run! Running away isn't embarrassing either…" the small Stellaron mumbled softly.
Stelle rubbed her head irritably. "Easy to say, simple to say, naive to say. You… ugh, forget it. What am I even saying? You wouldn't understand."
The small Stellaron puffed out her cheeks, then suddenly rammed her head into Stelle's chin.
"Hiss—What are you doing?!"
"You can't argue, so you pull the adult card? I hate you!"
Stelle got up from the ground, scoffing. "Who says I can't argue? Let me ask you: if an Emanator slaps your companions to death one by one in front of you, what can you do? Tell me, what can you do?!"
"I don't know!" the small Stellaron shouted back. "But you've got to do something, right?"
"… "
The big and small Stelles stared at each other face-to-face, neither saying a word.
But the funniest thing was, they both thought the other made sense.
Whoosh—
During their standoff, a turquoise flame suddenly ignited on the small Stellaron's body. Stelle froze, quickly taking off her jacket to pat at the flames.
"Where did this fire come from?!"
"… "
The small Stellaron stood still, letting Stelle pat her with the jacket. "…Sister, you know, don't you?"
Stelle's movements faltered, then resumed, her voice trembling. "I… I don't know. Anyway, you'll definitely be fine. We can still form the Stellaron Duo, right?"
The small Stellaron: "Sister, can I ask you something?"
"…Go ahead. I'll tell you anything," Stelle said, her movements slowing, her knuckles whitening.
"When you were little, were you like me? Naive, cute, a bit silly… hehe, I'm a little embarrassed saying it."
"… "
"…Mm."
Stelle was silent for a long time, her mind still blank. She wasn't thinking, just instinctively responding with a "mm."
"Hehe, then I'm relieved," the small Stellaron said, standing on tiptoes to pat Stelle's head. "Sister, keep being like that… I don't want to die."
"Haha… ha, how could you die? I… I'm right here with you. It's all an illusion, all an illusion."
Whoosh—
The turquoise flame surged, completely engulfing the small Stellaron.
Stelle's outstretched hand still hung in the air.
"… "
She clenched her fist, holding it tight for a long, long time.
…
"Silver Wolf, what do you think… Preservation is?"
On the spaceship, Silver Wolf's gaze was glued to her phone. Hearing Kafka's question, she didn't even look up. "Protecting a floating log online—that's the greatest Preservation in the galaxy."
"I'm not bragging, but even Qlipoth would struggle to pull that off… Hiss—wait, the company might've designed some censorship filters for that."
"Pointless asking you," Kafka said, pursing her lips before turning to Boothill. "Senior, what do you think Preservation is?"
"Heh, that's a question that could take three days and nights to answer," Boothill said with a slight smile. "But I've witnessed many things: on a planet covered in ice and snow, people united, lighting kindling together to fend off the frost."
"On a war-torn land, people raised swords and spears, fighting to protect what mattered to them."
"Be it natural disasters or man-made calamities, Preservation is probably the most primal instinct—to protect what's worth protecting in the face of threats."
"But why the sudden question?" Boothill asked, chuckling.
Kafka quietly placed a finger to her lips. "Shh, I snuck a peek at Elio's script."