Chapter 246: The Suppressed Power of Death
What was even more surprising was Mydei's casual introduction: he had made most of these dishes himself.
This particular revelation, this stark contrast, made both Stelle and March 7th's eyes widen in disbelief. It was difficult to reconcile the image of the Vanguard Warrior, always the first to charge into the fray, with the creator of these delicious, aesthetically perfect dishes.
Castorice, on the other hand, silently retrieved a gift she had prepared, opening an exquisite wooden box she carried with her. Inside lay several beautifully crafted, Aetheria-style silver ornaments. There was an ancient-looking necklace inlaid with a deep purple crystal, a delicate bracelet carved with the lifelike forms of butterflies and phantom-winged moths, and a hair ornament woven from fine silver threads, from which hung a series of tiny, silent bells.
"These silver ornaments… some are from my personal collection, and some… I carved myself in my spare time," she explained, her voice soft.
"They aren't particularly precious, but each one carries a blessing, and… my heartfelt gratitude. I hope you will accept them."
The gifts were clearly chosen with immense care, each one a vessel for Castorice's sincere appreciation. The thoughtfulness from both her and Mydei filled the three members of the Astral Express with a deep warmth.
Dan Heng was the first to respond, explaining gently, "Mr. Mydei, Miss Castorice, we truly appreciate your kind intentions."
"However, the companions who came to assist us earlier have already departed from Amphoreus. They still have matters to attend to in their own worlds."
March 7th quickly stepped forward, a bright smile on her face. "But you don't have to worry about the gifts! We have… uh, a technology that's kind of like direct, long-distance item delivery!"
"We'll make sure your feelings get through to them, one hundred percent!" she guaranteed, patting her chest with confidence.
It was in that moment that Stelle had a sudden realization. It was as if Castorice hadn't just brought gifts, but had delivered herself right into the solution. Snapping out of her food-induced trance, Stelle cleared her throat and exclaimed loudly, "Ahem! Everyone, if I could have your attention for just a moment!"
Every gaze in the room instantly swiveled to her.
With the flair of a stage magician, Stelle whipped out the pink and blue, rather cheap-looking [Failed Superpower Inhibitor].
"Ta-da!" she announced, deliberately building the atmosphere. "Behold! This is a treasure I just acquired, a very magical item!" She held the hairpin up near her eyes, examining it dramatically.
"It's called the [Failed Superpower Inhibitor]! I know, the name doesn't exactly inspire confidence, but it can actually inhibit a person's superpowers!"
Her words captured everyone's curiosity, but Castorice's attention was absolute. Her gaze locked onto the small hairpin, her breath catching in her throat.
Stelle looked at Castorice, her usually playful tone softening into something more serious. "I was just thinking, Castorice… you've always had trouble fully controlling your… um, 'death' power, right?"
"It makes it so you can't casually touch living things, which must make it hard to even make friends or feel the warmth of life." Stelle's observational skills, though sporadic, were sometimes surprisingly sharp. "So I thought, maybe this thing… could help you? Even if it only suppresses it a little, maybe it would let you safely touch small plants, or… hug your friends?"
"…"
Castorice was stunned.
Stelle's words were like a key, turning in the lock of a long-sealed door in her heart, a door covered in the dust of years of solitude.
From the moment she was born, the power of death had clung to her like a second skin. Whatever her hands touched, life withered. She couldn't count the number of times an accidental brush of her fingers had ended the life of a small animal that tried to approach her, or even a loyal maid who had tried to sweep a fallen leaf from her shoulder.
Childhood playmates? An impossible luxury. A warm embrace? An experience that existed only in stories, entirely absent from her own memories.
She could only ever watch the vibrancy and beauty of life from a distance, while she herself remained a walking calamity, dragging everything that drew near into an eternal, chilling silence. This uncontrollable power had long been a thorn embedded in the softest part of her heart, digging deeper with every passing year, tormenting her and carving loneliness into her very bones.
And now, Stelle—this girl from beyond the stars who had already brought so many miracles—was holding an unassuming little hairpin and telling her that it might change everything.
Castorice's heart began to hammer against her ribs, an erratic, wild rhythm.
And she found… that she was willing to believe.
The very appearance of Stelle and her companions had been a miracle. They wielded powers Amphoreus had never seen, solving problems that had stumped even the Chrysos Heirs. So, what was one more impossibility? An item that could inhibit her power of death?
Hope, like a faint spark suddenly igniting in an endless dark, was tiny, yet it instantly began to warm her long-frozen heart.
Within her perpetually melancholic purple eyes, a storm of intense anticipation and apprehension began to surge, mingled with a hint of longing she barely dared to acknowledge. She stared at the pink and blue hairpin in Stelle's hand, seeing not an object, but a key. A key to another world, another possibility—a world where she could touch a flower without it withering, where she could openly accept a friend's embrace without the mortal fear of harming them.
That world, to her, was impossibly beautiful, and impossibly distant.
And now, Stelle was offering to place that very key into her hands.
Castorice's gaze remained fixed on the hairpin, her focus so absolute it was as if it were the only thing left in the world. Her slender fingers curled into a tight fist, then relaxed, a small motion that betrayed the immense turmoil raging within her.
Her ethereal voice, now laced with an uncontrollable tremor, was barely a whisper. She looked at Stelle, her eyes a mixture of desperate hope and the terror that it might all be shattered.
"Thank you… for your kindness, Your Excellency. May I… may I try it… now?"
Stelle, however, adopted a carefree and generous demeanor, waving her hand dismissively. "Oh, don't be so formal with me! This thing isn't really useful for me anyway."
She grinned. "Think about it. In the middle of a battle, am I going to rush over and try to clip this onto an enemy? The mental image is just too ridiculous!"
"Besides, this is the perfect gift for you. Consider it my return gift, a thank you to you and Mydei for the delicious food and the beautiful silver ornaments!"
With that, Stelle gently placed the [Failed Superpower Inhibitor] on the table between them. She then took several steps back, giving Castorice space as a sign of respect and to avoid unintentionally interfering.
Castorice took a deep, shuddering breath, as if gathering every ounce of courage she possessed.
She slowly stepped forward. She reached out her hands—hands that had been entwined with the power of death for so many years, hands that she rarely dared to use to touch any living thing—and carefully, reverently, picked up the seemingly ordinary, even somewhat cheap-looking, hairpin.
Without a moment's hesitation, she gently clipped it into her silver-white hair.
The instant the hairpin clasped shut, an almost imperceptible shiver ran through Castorice's entire body. A sensation she had never before experienced flowed through her being.
The power of death, the very essence that coursed through her veins and brought ruin to all life it touched, suddenly felt as if it had been put on an invisible leash. It still existed, she could feel it, but its restless activity and its pervasive, destructive nature were noticeably inhibited, weakened.
Yet, the life energy and inherent power she possessed as one of the Chrysos Heirs remained completely untouched.
She stared blankly, raising her hands before her face. She looked at these very hands, the ones that had brought forth countless withering ends, and her eyes filled with utter, stunning disbelief.
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