Smack, smack… Pom-Pom was pacing back and forth in the carriage.
"Really, Passenger March, Passenger Dan Heng, Passenger Stelle, and Phainon, why aren't they back yet, Pom-Pom?"
Himeko held her coffee, the smile at the corner of her red lips as elegant as ever.
"Don't worry, Pom-Pom. Welt said they are safe."
"Hmm… Himeko is right, Pom-Pom!"
No sooner had she spoken than the light curtain of the warp channel began to tremble.
A sneaky figure poked her head out; it was March 7th.
She looked left and right like a thief, lowering her voice: "The Conductor doesn't seem to be here. Quick! Let's get in!"
"Passenger March!" Pom-Pom's voice suddenly rang out at her feet, "What are you doing, Pom-Pom?"
"Ah! Conductor!" March 7th's smile froze on her face, and she scratched her head awkwardly, "I, this, hahahaha… We're playing hide-and-seek!"
"Stop acting. Quickly, bring her in."
Dan Heng's voice came from behind. He and March 7th were jointly carrying a stretcher.
Stelle on the stretcher had her eyes tightly closed, crystal-clear liquid hanging from the corners of her mouth, still murmuring in her sleep:
"Hahahaha… All… all the trash cans… are mine?!"
A huge question mark appeared above Pom-Pom's head, "Passenger Stelle… what happened to her again, Pom-Pom?"
"Uh… let's go in and talk!"
March 7th and Dan Heng quickly carried the stretcher and slipped inside.
The pink-haired girl didn't forget to turn back, "Conductor, I advise you… to stay away from the channel."
Pom-Pom looked at Himeko in confusion, who simply returned a knowing smile, elegantly rising with her coffee cup and walking towards the carriage aisle.
"Passenger March, where is Phainon, Pom-Pom?" Pom-Pom shouted towards the aisle.
"He's behind…"
Suddenly, there was a "ding-dong" sound of metal colliding in the aisle.
The sound was as dense as hail hitting a tin roof.
The entire light curtain of the warp channel began to ominously swell and distort, as if some behemoth was about to burst forth!
The next moment.
Poof—
A silver-gray trash can, like a cannonball, shot out from the channel!
Followed by the second, the third, the fourth… Finally, a torrent of trash cans, like a landslide and tsunami, instantly engulfed the entire carriage!
"Where did all these trash cans come from, Pom-Pom?!"
Pom-Pom shrieked, squeezed into the corner by the endless trash cans, with only a pair of furry ears exposed.
At the top of the mountain of trash cans, Phainon pushed away a lid covering his head and brushed the dust off his black robe.
The voice under the mask carried genuine confusion, "So many, which carriage section should they be put in?"
"Phainon!!!" Pom-Pom stood up with a roar, overturning the trash cans that buried him, "You come here, Pom-Pom!"
Phainon glanced at the furious Conductor, "Eh? How did I get here? I should go back to my room and sleep."
Before he finished speaking, his figure transformed into an ink-colored shadow and disappeared without a trace.
—
Not long after.
Inside Phainon's carriage.
He leaned quietly by the bed, Pom-Pom's frantic roars from outside irrelevant to him, as if separated by an invisible world.
The pleasure brought by the farce just now receded like a tide, replaced by a dead silence.
He could feel that the authority of Make-believe reality, nourished by joy, was becoming increasingly uncontrollable.
It could not only reflect ludicrous fantasies but also drag out the heaviest obsessions from the deepest parts of memory.
In the room, there was no sound of footsteps, no sound of a door opening.
Suddenly.
The shadows in the corner began to twist, and the light was swallowed by an invisible force.
A figure silently sat down on the chair opposite him, her slender fingers turning the pages of a book on the table.
The newcomer had iconic green hair, a gentle demeanor, yet with a detachment that saw through everything.
Phainon watched the appearance of this figure calmly, without the slightest surprise.
Perhaps, he was meant to be here.
"The shadow born in the black tide is actually the Savior in Amphoreus's prophecy."
The green-haired man spoke leisurely, "This truth… is truly a fantasy."
Phainon responded coldly, "Anaxa, why are you here?"
"First, please call me Anaxagoras."
Anaxa shifted his gaze from the book to Phainon.
"Second, before I answer, ask yourself. Do you already know the answer to this question?"
He paused, his tone carrying a familiar and sarcastic smile.
"Are you seeking my answer, longing for a 'correct' answer, or… do you just want me to confirm the answer in your heart?"
Phainon fell silent.
"…No matter how much time passes, even after breaking free from reincarnation, the Anaxa I know is still like this."
"Hahahahaha…" Anaxa covered his hollow eye sockets, letting out a low laugh, "Then, my disciple, do you still need that answer now?"
"No longer."
Phainon slowly stood up, his black robe silently sliding down.
He looked out the window at the planet, which had been wrapped in seven hundred years of wind and snow, now bathed in new life.
"For me, whether it is authority or illusion, there is no longer any difference."
He turned his head and looked directly at his teacher.
"Before, the outside world was taboo. Now that you walk among the stars, I thought your expression would be more surprised."
"path, Aeon." Anaxa sneered, "Nonsense. However, I had already anticipated this matter of the outside world."
"In my opinion, apart from a broader view, this universe is no different from Amphoreus," Phainon's voice was as cold as iron,
"Amphoreus has Titans, the universe has Aeons. In the final analysis, they are all cages."
"Very good." Anaxa folded his hands across his chest, clearly very satisfied with Phainon's answer, "Enough small talk. Now, like in class, answer my question."
"Ask, teacher."
"How many reincarnations have you actually experienced?"
Phainon did not hesitate at all, the expression under his mask was chillingly calm.
He uttered a number.
A number without any emotion, yet heavier than any punishment.
"33550336…"
In an instant.
Anaxa's composure and wisdom froze on his face.
His finger, which was turning the pages, suddenly stiffened, and the book slipped from his lap, falling onto the carpet with a dull thud.
He seemed to want to say something, but his lips only opened and closed twice silently.
Ultimately, only a sigh mixed with shock and bitterness escaped his throat.
"Perfect number… It turns out to be such a cruel irony in the calculations of fate…"
Anaxa sighed softly, "So in those reincarnations, did I… fight against fate?"
"Every time." Phainon replied, "No, I can't remember."
"Is that so?" Anaxa snorted coldly, "But this time… everything you do will not be in vain."
Phainon slightly tilted his gaze, "This is the first time you've said something like that."
"There is no Trailblaze here." Anaxa seemed to see through Phainon's essence, "Speaking of kindling, do you know that your flesh has begun to burn your soul?"
Phainon was silent for a moment.
"Good, then let this flame tear the world apart."
Just then.
Noisy sounds came from outside the carriage, interrupting their conversation.
"You, who exactly are you, Pom-Pom?"
A woman's voice followed closely, with a hint of playful laughter.
"Long time no see, everyone on the Astral Express."
"I am Kafka."