The metal pellet itself, under the continuous, violent friction, was no longer absolutely cold. It now glowed with a subdued, dangerous crimson, like a miniature, ignited stellar core.
Yet, its form remained as stable as a bedrock, showing no signs of melting, deforming, or disintegrating.
At that moment, another Infinity Gate snapped open precisely in its path ahead, swallowing it whole. This cycle repeated. Phaethon manipulated the spatial gates, allowing the pellet to continuously accumulate terrifying kinetic energy, enough to annihilate heaven and earth, through successive "jump-fall" cycles...
Until... Phaethon reversed the Infinity Gate's function, using gravity to gradually slow its velocity.
…
In the Alleyway.
Phaethon's palm held the metal pellet returned from its hellish journey.
Its body was still that deep, matte grey, but its surface now bore intricate, fine spiral patterns etched by extreme friction. It felt cool to the touch, yet seemed to contain a soul-freezing power of destruction.
"Indestructible... Unmeltable by heat... Kinetic energy preserved..." Phaethon's voice was dry and trembling with intense excitement, each word seemingly squeezed from the depths of his soul. "A conventional kinetic weapon? Pah, dropping a rock from space would burn up before it even hit anyone. But... I have the Infinity Gate!"
A nearly arrogant curve tugged at the corner of Phaethon's mouth. "No need to accelerate to a fraction of light speed. Just this speed star tens of thousands of kilometers per hour, scaling this solid 'little guy' up a hundred thousand times, turning it into an indestructible metal pillar flying towards you..."
He envisioned the scene of it piercing through everything, his eyes gleaming with extreme excitement. "Go on, I dare you. Try and block that."
But imagination was beautiful, reality was harsh. He looked down at the priceless sample in his hand, then remembered Chartonus's emphatic "Eight million."
The excited light in his eyes was instantly replaced by immense pressure. He let out a bitter, sighing laugh and carefully stored the metal pellet.
*Eight million... I must find a way to get it!* He looked towards the direction of the smithy. The money-making plan had to be prioritized immediately!
But before that... he could use ordinary stone material as a substitute. Probably only good for one use per pillar, and couldn't be accelerated to too high a speed. But it would have to do for now.
...
Phaethon stood before the closed wooden door of the small courtyard, the golden glow of the setting sun stretching his shadow long. A knowing smile played on his lips as he shook his head slightly.
"Speaking of which, it should be about time. I've been wandering around for almost three hours..." he murmured to himself, his fingers unconsciously tracing the familiar grain of the doorframe.
*"Did Cyrene really think I wouldn't notice? The way Miss Hyacine looked like she wanted to say something more before leaving... Heh, how could I possibly forget that today is mine and Phainon's nineteenth birthday?"*
He recalled Cyrene's antics this morning—first casually patting him and Phainon on the shoulder, mumbling something about "another year older," then shooing them out like ducks: "Go on, get out! The Grove is closed today. Phainon, Teacher Tribbie needs to see you. Phaethon, shouldn't you go properly thank Miss Hyacine for healing your leg?"
*"Cyrene sis, Cyrene sis... after all these years, your method of preparing surprises is still so... childish."* Phaethon's smile deepened, filled with affection and anticipation. He tilted his head, listening. The courtyard was quiet, almost deliberately so.
*"Sure enough, the moment I push this door open, I'll probably get a 'surprise' right in the face, won't I?"* He imagined streamers, cheers, and a potentially incoming cake. Taking a deep breath, he adjusted his expression and pushed the door open—
*"Creeeak—"*
"I! AM! BAAAAACK!" Phaethon's voice, deliberately loud and full of expectation, rang out through the quiet courtyard.
However, the expected cacophony never came.
The courtyard was silent. Only two people sat by the small table: Cyrene and Phainon.
On the table sat a lone, large sea bowl containing... noodles? Next to it were two empty bowls, one clearly just used, with traces of a clear, bland broth at the bottom.
Cyrene looked up, a perfectly natural smile on her face, as if it were just an ordinary dinnertime. "Oh! Phaethon's back? Perfect timing, come here."
She pointed at the bowl of noodles. "Today is yours and Phainon's birthday. Your Cyrene sis personally cooked a bowl of longevity noodles for you brothers! Phainon has already eaten his. Come, try it! Aren't you going to thank your Cyrene-sis?"
Phainon also looked up, his expression unreadable, simply nodding in agreement. "Mn. Phaethon, eat up. The noodles... are okay."
Phaethon: "...Huh?"
The smile on his face froze instantly. His steps hesitant, he walked to the table, his eyes darting between the bowl of noodles that looked plain, even somewhat... pitiful, and the empty bowl with its residual broth in front of his brother.
An indescribable sense of disappointment, mixed with confusion, quietly crept into his heart.
"Cyrene. Phainon. What is this...?" Phaethon's voice was a little dry as he pulled out a chair and sat down.
He tried to find any trace of a prank on Cyrene's face, but she just looked at him, beaming, her eyes utterly sincere.
"Of course! Longevity noodles! It's the thought that counts! Come on, eat up, taste your Cyrene sis's culinary skills!" Cyrene enthusiastically shoved the chopsticks into his hand.
Phaethon looked at the slightly overcooked noodles in the bowl, topped with a fried egg whose edges were charred and whose shape was somewhat... abstract. With complex feelings, he picked up the chopsticks.
He lifted a bunch of noodles to his mouth— Mmh. Sure enough, the taste was equally "simple." Apart from the flavor of the wheat, he could barely taste any seasoning. It was as bland as noodles boiled in plain water.
But looking at Cyrene's expectant gaze and the obviously self-fried—even if burnt—egg in the bowl, Phaethon's heart suddenly softened.
He managed to swallow the mouthful. "Thank you... Cyrene."
His voice was gentle, sincere. "It's delicious, really. It's just... well, maybe just a tiny bit more salt would make it perfect. Next time, maybe I can teach you how to cook noodles? I promise I'll..." He said, half-jokingly, trying to lighten the slightly dreary atmosphere.
Just then, his leg seemed to accidentally bump into something soft and warm under the table.
"Eek!" A familiar, soft yelp, tinged with grievance and panic, came from beneath the table.
Phaethon's movements froze instantly. That voice...
He lowered his head and lifted the edge of the tablecloth that draped down—
In the cramped space under the table, Trianne was huddled there, clutching a small, clumsily wrapped but clearly carefully prepared gift box. Her large, sapphire-blue eyes, welling with tears and filled with the embarrassment of being caught, met Phaethon's stunned gaze directly!
Trianne: (⋟﹏⋞) Oh no! Busted!
The air seemed to freeze for a second.
The next moment, Trianne shot out from under the table like a startled Saffir!
Her face flushed bright red, she thrust the small box into Phaethon's arms with both hands, closed her eyes, and shouted at the top of her lungs:
"L-LITTLE WHITEY! HAPPY! BIRTH! DAY!"