The tal 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 lting, deforming, or disintegrating.
At that mont, 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 tal 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 extre friction. It felt cool to the touch, yet seed to contain a soul-freezing power of destruction.
"Indestructible... Unltable by heat... Kinetic energy preserved..." Phaethon’s voice was dry and trembling with intense excitent, 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 kiloters per hour, scaling this solid ’little guy’ up a hundred thousand tis, turning it into an indestructible tal pillar flying towards you..."
He envisioned the scene of it piercing through everything, his eyes gleaming with extre excitent. "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 rembered Chartonus’s emphatic "Eight million."
The excited light in his eyes was instantly replaced by imnse pressure. He let out a bitter, sighing laugh and carefully stored the tal 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 imdiately!
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 ti. I’ve been wandering around for almost three hours..." he murmured to himself, his fingers unconsciously tracing the familiar grain of the doorfra.
*"Did Cyrene really think I wouldn’t notice? The way Miss Hyacine looked like she wanted to say sothing 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 sothing 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 thod 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 mont I push this door open, I’ll probably get a ’surprise’ right in the face, won’t I?"* He imagined strears, 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 ca.
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 dinnerti. "Oh! Phaethon’s back? Perfect timing, co 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. Co, try it! Aren’t you going to thank your Cyrene-sis?"
Phainon also looked up, his expression unreadable, simply nodding in agreent. "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 sowhat... pitiful, and the empty bowl with its residual broth in front of his brother.
An indescribable sense of disappointnt, 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! Co 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 sowhat... 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 ti, 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 seed to accidentally bump into sothing soft and warm under the table.
"Eek!" A familiar, soft yelp, tinged with grievance and panic, ca from beneath the table.
Phaethon’s movents 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 embarrassnt of being caught, t Phaethon’s stunned gaze directly!
Trianne: (⋟﹏⋞) Oh no! Busted!
The air seed to freeze for a second.
The next mont, 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!"
User Comments
0 comments from readers