Chapter 15: Let the Galaxy Burn
"But, I don't quite know how to put it. It's just..." Himeko slowly shook her head, a rare look of absolute bewilderment crossing her elegant features. "He seems capable of creating things that completely defy explanation. Things that outright mock the laws of thermodynamics." She turned her gaze toward the older man beside her. "Welt, his abilities are not quite like yours."
Welt Yang pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his expression thoughtful as he considered the comparison. "Indeed. I certainly lack his exuberant desire for chaotic invention, not to mention his completely unconstrained creativity."
Dan Heng stood nearby, his arms crossed over his chest. His sharp, stoic gaze swept over the newly renovated Lounge Car. "Where exactly are the boundaries of his abilities?"
"I don't know," Himeko admitted, her fingers lightly brushing against the polished surface of the nearby bar counter. "But one thing is absolutely certain. His creativity far exceeds anything I could have anticipated."
"Just... like that?" March 7th threw her hands up in the air, gesturing wildly at the pristine surroundings. "A little melting, a little grinding, a little mixing of scrap metal, and brand new luxury furniture just magically appears out of thin air?"
"The actual process is obviously far more complex than that," Himeko replied, a faint, helpless smile touching her lips. "Earlier, he told me the Express was like a giant pocket watch. And then he simply started taking it apart. He wasn't just dismantling it randomly for fun. He was truly trying to deconstruct and understand the fundamental architecture of the train."
"Okay, that sounds pretty impressive when you say it like that..." March 7th scratched her cheek, her pink hair bouncing slightly. "But what's the actual difference between that and Mr. Yang's power? The end result is still just making new things out of nowhere, right?"
"The difference," Welt interjected, his tone carrying a weight of quiet realization, "is that there are some things I fundamentally cannot do."
Before the conversation could go any further, the heavy automatic door connecting the Lounge Car to the Parlor Car let out a soft, melodic beep. The metal panels slid open with a smooth hiss of pressurized air.
"Everyone, apologies for keeping you waiting."
Rekka stood framed in the doorway. He had managed to brush the worst of the metallic dust off his clothes, though dark smears of engine oil still stained his cuffs and the collar of his shirt. Despite the mess, he threw his arms wide in a grand, welcoming gesture, a supremely confident and entirely too rational smile plastered across his face.
"Astral Express Parlor Car Version 2.0. Welcome to the premium experience."
Welt was the first to step forward. He walked straight toward the center table, his eyes widening slightly as he reached out. His hand passed harmlessly through a slowly rotating, brilliantly glowing illusory planet hovering in the air. "Is this... a real-time star map?"
"It is directly hooked into the train's primary navigation system. I went ahead and improved the data processing algorithms while I was under the floorboards," Rekka explained casually, strolling over to join him. "The previous star map had a rendering delay of about zero point five seconds. I found that unacceptable, so it is now compressed to zero point zero one seconds. Plus, I took the liberty of adding a gravitational wave detection module. It will provide immediate early warnings for any spatial anomalies along our warp route."
The crew stared at the floating holographic projection in stunned silence. The sheer processing power required for such a modification was staggering.
Then, without any change in his cheerful expression, Rekka began counting down aloud, his tone as casual as if he were reading a grocery list.
"Ten. Nine. Eight."
"Hey! What's wrong with you?!" March 7th jumped, her survival instincts kicking in as she hurriedly leaned away, looking around for a ticking explosive.
Rekka's voice began to drop in volume, growing noticeably weaker with each number.
"Rekka? What exactly are you counting?" Dan Heng asked, his brow furrowing.
"Five. Four. Three."
"Hey! Stop that!" March 7th squeaked, waving her hands.
"Two. One."
Like a puppet with its strings abruptly cut, Rekka's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed face-first onto the plush carpet with a heavy thud.
"He's still breathing! He's still breathing! Oh my gosh, you scared the life out of me!" March 7th dropped to her knees beside him, hovering her hands over his back in a panic.
Welt quickly knelt down beside her, gently turning Rekka over to check his pupils. After a brief inspection, the older man let out a small sigh of relief. "It appears to be severe physical exhaustion. He is still semi-conscious, but his body simply couldn't hold out any longer. It seems his constitution in this current state is indeed incredibly poor."
"Then what do we do? Should we call a doctor? Is it too late to turn the train around and go back to Herta Space Station?" March 7th rambled, her anxiety spiking.
"There is no need for that," Himeko said gently, walking over to look down at their chaotic new passenger. "Just let him lie down and rest for a while. Once the adrenaline and excitement from his building spree faded, his body naturally shut down to protect itself."
March 7th extended a single, hesitant finger and poked Rekka directly in the cheek.
"Hello? Still alive in there?"
"...I'm still alive," Rekka murmured. His eyes fluttered open just a fraction of an inch. His voice was incredibly faint, barely louder than a mosquito's buzz. "It's just... I literally cannot move a single muscle... let me just lie here on the floor for a bit..."
"You scared me to death, you jerk!" March 7th poked his cheek again, much harder this time, her lips settling into a deep pout. "You were so energetic and smug just a second ago! How can you just flop over like a dead fish?"
"Stamina bar... hit absolute zero... it's a normal game mechanic..." Rekka explained feebly, his cheek squishing under her finger. "I even counted down... in advance... so you guys would be mentally prepared for the animation..."
"You call that a warning countdown?! You call that terrifying us for no reason!"
"Let us move him back to his room," Himeko instructed, a fond amusement coloring her tone. "Dan Heng, if you would do the honors."
"Mm." Dan Heng easily scooped the exhausted inventor off the floor, carrying him away without another word.
Rekka fell into a deep, heavy sleep.
And then, he had a dream.
In the dream, he stood alone in a boundless, desolate white wasteland. There was no sky above, no earth below. There was only an endless expanse of pure, blinding white. He looked down and realized he was walking barefoot. With every step he took, perfect concentric ripples spread out beneath his feet, exactly as if he were stepping on the surface of a calm lake. Yet, there was no sensation of wetness against his skin.
Far off in the hazy distance, the faint silhouette of a colossal, impossibly tall tower pierced through the white clouds. Its very peak flickered with a rhythmic, pulsing light, like a dying star calling out in the dark.
Where was this place?
He had no memory of it, no logical reason to understand its existence, but a primal instinct deep within his chest urged him to walk toward that flickering light.
"If you cannot understand..."
A voice suddenly echoed directly into his ear. It was ethereal, ancient, and impossibly distant, yet it carried the terrifying clarity of a whisper spoken right against his neck.
"...then feel."
"Who's there?"
Rekka whipped his head around, his eyes scanning the emptiness. There was absolutely no one behind him. Nothing but the endless, rippling white wasteland stretching into infinity.
"If you cannot..."
The voice rang out a second time. This time it came from his left, heavy with an oppressive, misty weight that seemed to vibrate right through his bones.
"...then let the galaxy burn."
"...Wake up... Rekka... hey, wake up..."
A blurred, entirely different voice pierced through the heavy layers of cosmic mist, dragging his consciousness back to reality.
"Whew..." Rekka let out a long, ragged exhale, his eyes snapping open. He blinked at the familiar ceiling of his cabin, leaning weakly back against his pillow. "How long... did I sleep?"
"A full ten hours!" March 7th leaned over his bed, holding up two fingers right in his face for emphasis. "You have been dead to the world from noon until right now! It is already past ten o'clock at night!"
"Ten hours?" Rekka blinked, genuinely surprised as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "I actually slept that long?"
"What do you think? You were snoring like a log!"
"My apologies. It is mainly because my head was completely overflowing with mechanical blueprints and structural ideas at the time. I couldn't stop the flow of inspiration at all, and I completely failed to notice my physical body had hit its absolute limit." Rekka stretched his arms, feeling the strength finally returning to his limbs. He threw off the blanket and stood up, a familiar, mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "Say, March. Do you want to see the incredibly mature, always steady Mr. Yang make a very unsteady expression?"
"What are you plotting now? What dangerous, explosive invention are you about to unleash on us?"
March 7th's internal danger radar immediately pinged. A single pink strand of hair on the top of her head stood straight up, swaying back and forth like an antenna.
"Not dangerous. Not dangerous at all." Rekka waved his hand dismissively, walking over to his storage trunk. "You know what Mr. Yang's absolute favorite hobbies are, right?"
"Big mecha robots, obviously. Everyone knows that."
"Exactly. Now, guess what I found while I was rummaging through the deepest, darkest corners of the Express storage room earlier today."
Rekka knelt down and pulled a heavy, dust-covered plastic case from beneath his bed, dragging it out into the light.
"What is that? Are you absolutely sure it isn't something that will blow a hole in the hull?" March 7th leaned in, eyeing the box with deep suspicion.
"Explosive? No, no, no." Rekka shook his head, the chaotic smile on his face growing wider and far more radiant. "This right here is premium, top-tier loot. This is the kind of artifact that can instantly revert a calm, middle-aged man into a screaming, hot-blooded youth."
"Huh?" March 7th tilted her head, completely lost.
Rekka used his sleeve to wipe a thick layer of grime off the transparent top of the case, revealing the pristine contents inside.
"Here, use your phone. Scan the barcode on this thing and look it up."
March 7th pulled out her device, aiming the camera at the faded serial number on the side of the box. The screen loaded for a second before a massive wall of text and astronomical price tags popped up. Her jaw dropped.
"...A completely discontinued, limited edition run of exactly one thousand super-articulated mecha models? Released several entire Amber Eras ago?!" She stared at Rekka in sheer disbelief. "You are going to just give Mr. Yang this?! Wait a second, this doesn't belong to some previous passenger on the Express, does it? That would be stealing!"
"I already checked with the boss. I asked Pom-Pom, and Pom-Pom confirmed it was just an abandoned toy left behind by someone decades ago. It has no owner." Rekka tapped the plastic case. "Now, tell me honestly. Don't you think it would be incredibly entertaining to see Mr. Yang's stoic face completely shatter when he sees this?"
"What kind of expression are we talking about?"
"You know exactly the kind." Rekka stood up and began dramatically pantomiming the anticipated reaction. He clutched his chest, his eyes wide. "'Ah! Could this be?!''Impossible!''How can this artifact exist here?!' And then he just starts hyperventilating, completely unable to form a coherent sentence because he is too overwhelmed by mecha-induced joy."
March 7th vividly imagined the usually unflappable Welt Yang losing his mind over a plastic robot. The corners of her mouth began to twitch, curling upward into a massive, uncontrollable grin.
"Let's go!" she whispered loudly, fully on board with the operation.
The two of them grabbed the heavy case and crept out of the room, tiptoeing down the corridor toward the Parlor Car with cartoonish, exaggerated stealth.
They peeked around the doorframe. Welt was sitting quietly on the plush sofa under the warm ambient lighting, holding a thick, leather-bound book in his hands, completely absorbed in his reading.
"The target is exactly where you predicted," March 7th whispered, crouching low beside Rekka. "He sits right there and reads his books every single night, without fail."
"What are you two doing?"
A calm, perfectly flat voice suddenly spoke from directly behind their shoulders.
"Whoa!" March 7th shrieked, nearly jumping entirely out of her boots. She spun around, clutching her chest. "Dan Heng! How in the universe do you walk without making a single sound?!"
Dan Heng stood there, holding a datapad, his expression completely blank.
"There is a sound when I walk," Dan Heng stated dryly, not a single ounce of amusement in his voice. "You simply lacked the situational awareness to hear it. Now, I will ask again. What are you doing creeping around in the dark?"
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