"Cyrene..."
Baiheng spoke softly, "Regarding... the 'persuasion' matter... Master, though she sometimes seems cold and her methods might be a bit... direct? She is genuinely trying to save everyone. You saw Anaxa's situation; without that approach, communication is impossible..."
Cyrene's hands, wrapped around her knees, tightened slightly. Her azure eyes were downcast, long eyelashes casting a small shadow beneath them.
She knew what Baiheng was talking about.
That seemingly cold Madam Herta, the one who rescued her from countless chains (though the process felt strange to her).
Trusting an entity associated with destructive concepts like the Iron Tomb and Rupert III was undoubtedly a huge gamble.
But... after much deliberation.
Cyrene finally took a deep breath, as if having made a certain decision.
She looked up, her azure eyes still holding a trace of unease, but more so a determined gleam.
"Miss Baiheng," her voice was soft, yet exceptionally clear, "I... I am willing to try."
"Really?!" Baiheng's eyes instantly widened, her snow-white fox ears perked up with a'swish', and her Tail began to wag happily from side to side. A brilliant smile bloomed on her face, "That's wonderful, Cyrene! Trust me, Master will definitely find a way! I'll tell Master this good news right away!"
She almost fumbled to pull out her communicator, excitedly starting to send messages to Madam Herta, her typing fingers even showing a joyful curve.
Perspective shift.
Jack stood before the rusty tin trash can, initially just mechanically performing the task of 'imitating the Star Core Spirit,' her heart filled with disdain for this bizarre behavior.
But as she rummaged, a peculiar feeling quietly arose—a subtle anticipation of finding unknown possibilities amidst the chaotic discarded items, as if some primal treasure-hunting instinct had been inadvertently triggered.
(It seems... it's a bit interesting?)
She casually tossed a stinky, worn-out sock aside, her movements surprisingly smooth, a fluidity she herself hadn't noticed.
Just then, a faint yet exceptionally persistent golden light stubbornly pierced through the gaps in the trash!
(Something's here!)
Jack's eyes instantly lit up; that was definitely not the luster of an ordinary object!
Her perfunctory attitude vanished, replaced by an inexplicable excitement.
She worked harder to push aside the coverings, reaching for the source of the golden light—
Finally, her fingers touched a long, hard object.
Her heart leaped with joy, and she forcefully pulled it out—
There was no need to look closely.
Because the moment that thing emerged from its trashy cover, a terrifying aura, condensed with the ultimate decay and saltiness of the world, like a fierce beast awakened from an ancient slumber, surged forth with overwhelming force!
The smell was like hundreds of years of concentrated foot sweat mixed with rotten fish guts, seasoned with the most putrid sulfurous fumes from the depths of the Belobog mines, truly the Lord Ravager descending upon the olfactory world!
"Ugh—!!!"
Jack couldn't even make out the specific shape of the thing. Her stomach churned violently, the water she had just drunk at the clinic turning into sourness in her throat. She bent over abruptly, uncontrollably dry heaving, her face instantly turning pale.
The overpowering scent drilled into her nostrils, rushing straight to her head, making her vision darken.
The impact of this smell was comparable to Anaxa's Rising Dragon Fist, striking directly at the soul!
"Stelle! What did you find... Waaah! What is that smell?!"
March 7th, who was standing a few steps away still debating whether to go over and stop her, was hit head-on by the terrifying wave of spreading odor before she could finish her sentence.
The pink-haired girl felt an indescribable stench forcefully drill into her nostrils, rushing straight to her head, and even saw illusory twinkling stars before her eyes.
She didn't even have time to utter a complete complaint before she followed in Jack's footsteps, falling to her knees with a 'thud' and joining the ranks of the vomiting, throwing up even more thoroughly than Jack, almost to the point of expelling her bile.
Fortunately, before March 7th completely lost consciousness, she managed to use her strong Trailblaze survival instinct to force herself to collapse onto the relatively clean ground beside her.
She successfully avoided the tragic fate of lying directly in her own vomit, instead just lying there, whimpering unconsciously, like a salted fish that had lost its dreams.
Not far away, several miners who had just changed shifts and were passing by, had initially been curious, watching the two girls rummaging by the trash can, and were about to approach to see the commotion—
"Hmm... what's that smell?"
"Holy crap! Run!"
"Is that the legendary 'Eternal Salted Fish' that can suffocate Rift creatures?! Retreat! Quick, retreat!"
The faces of the big men changed drastically, as if they had seen a ghost, scattering and fleeing faster than they would run to the cafeteria, with only one thought in their minds: Run! Get as far away from that trash can as possible!
As the victim closest to the'source of pollution,' Jack, relying on the resilient qualities of Belobog's inhabitants (especially Gepard's 'even if the sky falls, stand tall first' willpower), managed not to faint on the spot.
She just felt her soul trembling wildly under the assault of that smell.
Jack suppressed the burning sensation in her throat and stomach, and that terrifying smell that still seemed to penetrate every strand of her hair, her gaze fixed on the 'culprit'—a shriveled, dark, salted fish emitting an ominous golden light.
(I can't... I can't leave it here... to harm the world!)
She trembled as she reached out, and with lightning speed, stuffed it into the internal-space bracelet on her wrist.
"Whoosh—"
Like magic, the stench that had permeated the air, almost solidifying, instantly vanished, as if everything just now had been a collective nightmare.
Jack swayed as she stood up, feeling as if she had just battled Anaxa for three hundred rounds.
Her face was still a bit pale, her hair slightly disheveled, and her skirt hem was stained with some dust, but her back was straight, and her eyes even held a strange light of 'victory'?
Her posture inexplicably carried a hint of coolness, perhaps due to the resilience (forced) maintained in an extremely harsh environment, or perhaps due to the decisive action of collecting the'source of disaster'.
If one ignored the fact that she had just been vomiting into a trash can, and that her opponent was merely a salted fish.
She looked down at March 7th, who was still half-unconscious on the ground, softly whimpering, and then at the spot where she had just 'fought,' her heart filled with complex emotions.
(So... is the daily life of a Trailblazer a life-and-death struggle with such... 'rare treasures'?)
Jack began to feel a profound respect for the genuine Stelle, and at the same time, an unprecedented pressure regarding her future 'role-playing' career.
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