Chapter 12: Rekka: Hey, I'll Build a Galaxy-Destroying Bomb to Show You
"Drink some warm water. It helps soothe the pain." Rekka nudged the steaming mug across the table.
March 7th accepted the mug with both hands, letting the ceramic warmth seep into her palms. She took a cautious sip, her vibrant pink-and-blue eyes peeking over the rim to steal a curious glance at him.
"What are you looking at?" he asked, leaning back in his chair.
"Looking at you." March 7th set the mug down with a soft clink, adopting a matter-of-fact tone. "I was just thinking... after you switched to the Path of Erudition today, even though you are physically as weak as a wet noodle, you are actually quite useful. You can build ice cream machines out of scrap, you know exactly how to take care of sick people, and you actually speak nicely for once..."
"I call it the dual output of emotional and practical value," Rekka replied smoothly, adjusting an invisible pair of glasses.
"...Speak human."
"It means I can keep you entertained while simultaneously solving your problems."
"Oh." March 7th nodded slowly, digesting the logic. "Then how many days do we get to keep this version of you?"
"Just one. Tomorrow morning when I wake up, the cosmic roulette spins again."
"Then what will you become tomorrow?"
"No idea." Rekka offered a casual shrug. "Could be Preservation. Could be The Hunt. Maybe Elation, or even Nihility. The probabilities are entirely equal. It is completely random."
"Wait, what if you turn into Nihility?" Her eyes widened slightly.
"Then we might have a slight problem." Rekka tapped his chin, genuinely considering the prospect. "Under the influence of Nihility, I would probably feel that existence itself is utterly meaningless. I might just lie flat on my bed all day, staring at the ceiling without moving a single muscle, completely incapable of taking an interest in anything."
"Wouldn't that just make you a salted fish?"
"Worse than a salted fish. At least a salted fish has culinary value. I will just be radiating pure, unadulterated nothingness from every pore."
March 7th pictured the chaotic, energetic Rekka turning into a gloomy, motionless lump of depression. She couldn't help but shiver, rubbing her arms. "No, no! You have to find a way to control it!"
"I can't." Rekka answered with absolute frankness. "This is a fundamental characteristic of the Paths. It is not a switch I can flip. I can only accept whatever the universe throws at me and try to make every state as useful, or at least as entertaining, as possible."
"But... but what if—"
"Relax." Rekka cut off her stammering with a reassuring wave of his hand. "Even if I do roll Nihility, I won't hurt anyone. At worst, I will just lie flat for twenty-four hours, completely mute and immobilized by the crushing weight of existential dread. Once the clock strikes midnight and the Path switches, I will be right back to normal."
"Then what if you turn into Elation?" March 7th leaned closer, firing off questions like a curious child who had just discovered a new toy.
"I might become a Masked Fool, or perhaps a Mourning Actor." Rekka smiled, a mischievous glint flashing in his eyes. "In any case, no matter what ridiculous form I take, I am still me underneath it all. You definitely wouldn't shun me, right?"
"Of course not!" March 7th nodded so vigorously her pink hair bounced. "I didn't even shun you when you turned into a literal bug! I definitely won't shun you no matter what weird thing you become next!"
"Even if I walk around with a long, mournful face, sighing dramatically in front of you all day?"
"Then I will just have to find a way to make you laugh!" March 7th declared, puffing out her chest confidently. "And if you turn into a Masked Fool and act all silly and improper all day..."
"Then you will laugh along with me?"
"Exactly!" March 7th giggled, the sound bright and clear. "Anyway, no matter how you change, this girl can handle it!"
The moment the words left her mouth, she suddenly paused. A faint dusting of pink rushed to her cheeks, and she quickly turned her face away, suddenly finding the wall very interesting.
"Um... what I mean is... you are technically my junior, so you are under my protection. No matter what you become, I will look out for you..."
"Alright, alright. And as part of our mutual assistance pact, I should probably remind you of something." Rekka pointed a stern finger at her. "Even though the medicine worked, you are absolutely forbidden from eating any more ice cream today. If you ruin your stomach again, I don't have a second dose of that miracle cure."
March 7th stuck out her tongue playfully. She reached over, pulling her Pom-Pom plushie into her lap and resting her chin against its soft, oversized head.
"I know, I know. You are getting as naggy as Uncle Yang."
She muttered her complaint, though her eyes betrayed her, drifting longingly toward the custom-built ice cream machine sitting on the counter. She clearly hadn't had enough. However, the lingering phantom ache in her stomach ultimately forced her to abandon the idea of sneaking another scoop.
"Speaking of which..." March 7th suddenly perked up. An idea seemed to strike her, and she leaned forward over the table, her eyes sparkling with renewed excitement. "Since you are currently riding the Path of Erudition, does that mean you can calculate where the Express's next stop will be? Or... or maybe you can calculate when I will finally be able to find my lost memories?"
The easy smile on Rekka's face faded by a fraction. He looked into March 7th's bright, expectant eyes, seeing the genuine hope bubbling beneath the surface. Slowly, he shook his head.
"I can't calculate that."
"Huh?" March 7th's shoulders slumped, her excitement deflating like a pierced balloon. "Didn't you become a super genius today? You can't even calculate a little thing like that?"
"Being highly intelligent doesn't equate to being omniscient, especially when it comes to the chaotic variables of the future," Rekka explained, his tone gentle and patient. "Prediction is merely the logical deduction of future possibilities based on existing data. The less information available, the wider the margin of error. And as for your memories..."
He paused. His gaze drifted past her, landing on the photo wall in her room, a vibrant, chaotic collage of smiling faces, strange planets, and frozen moments in time.
"Actually, I think you are doing pretty well just the way you are now. The past is important, sure. But if you sacrifice the present just to chase after ghosts, wouldn't that be putting the cart before the horse? Look at those photos behind you. Those are your current memories. Those are the moments that truly belong to you."
March 7th turned her head, following his gaze to the wall of photographs.
"I guess you are right..." she murmured. She nodded thoughtfully, her fingers unconsciously kneading the soft, floppy ears of her Pom-Pom plushie. "Even though I still get super curious sometimes about what kind of person I used to be... right now, I have Pom-Pom, Uncle Yang, Himeko, Dan Heng... and a totally weird junior like you. I think I am actually quite happy."
"That's the spirit." Rekka pushed his chair back and stood up, brushing a few invisible wrinkles from his clothes. "Even if your past is a blank slate, as long as your present and future are painted in bright colors, you are winning. Besides, I have a sneaking suspicion that your past will find its way to you sooner or later. And when it finally does, you probably won't be able to hide from it even if you try."
"Hey! Don't jinx it!" she squawked, throwing a pillow at him.
Rekka slipped back into his own quarters aboard the Express, the heavy metal door sliding shut behind him with a soft hiss. He flexed his hands, staring down at his currently slender, uncalloused fingers.
Indeed.
This Erudition-aligned body was entirely too frail. A stiff breeze could probably knock him over right now.
If he was going to survive the sheer absurdity of the universe, and whatever cosmic horrors the Express inevitably rammed into next, he needed to build himself a defensive tool. Something powerful enough to guarantee his absolute safety in the heat of battle.
He paced the length of his room, his hyper-active brain spinning through thousands of schematics.
Wait.
"No," Rekka muttered to himself, a dangerous smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Offense is the best defense."
Right?
Right.
And if offense was the ultimate defense, then the absolute pinnacle of offense was, undeniably, a massive explosion. The fundamental laws of the universe practically demanded it.
So... a bomb?
Rekka sank into his desk chair, lost in a whirlwind of calculations.
An ordinary bomb definitely wouldn't cut it. Tossing a standard frag grenade at an Antimatter Legion Trampler was like throwing a pebble at a speeding train. He needed something portable. Something he could casually keep in his pocket and whip out at a moment's notice, capable of delivering apocalyptic devastation precisely when the situation called for it.
Grabbing a stylus, he pulled up a holographic drafting board and began rapidly sketching out blueprints. Lines of complex equations and structural diagrams filled the glowing blue air.
Project Stellar Annihilation Bomb.
The core principle was elegantly simple. use highly concentrated Imaginary Energy to force a runaway chain reaction within a captive stellar core. It would instantly drain the entire lifespan of a star, compressing billions of years of fusion into a single microsecond, before releasing it all in one glorious, blinding detonation.
He stared at the spinning holographic model of the bomb. He tapped his stylus against the desk.
Was the yield too small?
Rekka thought about the sheer scale of the enemies the Astral Express routinely encountered. Emanators. Lord Ravagers. Literal gods walking among the stars. A single exploding sun might just give someone like Phantylia a mild sunburn.
He shook his head, deleting the blueprint with a swipe of his hand. No, he couldn't risk holding the crew back with subpar firepower. He had to scale it up.
If a star wasn't enough... what about expanding the blast radius?
What if he just skipped the middleman and built a Galaxy-Destroying Bomb?
A metaphorical lightbulb practically shattered over Rekka's head, illuminating his room with the glow of pure, unhinged inspiration.
Aha!
His fingers flew across the holographic interface, drafting a brand-new, terrifyingly massive containment shell. Now this felt like a project he could really work with. With a localized, galaxy-erasing strike tucked neatly into his coat pocket, there were very few entities in the cosmos that would dare look at him funny.
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