The vast universe stretched on, endless and boundless.
Sailing through this star sea with no visible destination? Honestly, it got lonely. Facing that profound, infinite darkness, a quiet sense of solitude crept in. Even Himeko felt it.
After charting their initial course, the train sped onward.
With no specific planet in mind, they only used the warp function occasionally. No destination meant they'd just visit whatever planet they happened to come across along the way. Unfortunately, after more than a dozen warps, they hadn't encountered a single inhabited world.
So Himeko decided to just cruise at normal speed—no more warping, or they might miss something interesting.
With all the navigational work done, now it was just a waiting game. Waiting for a planet to cross their path.
With nothing else to do, Himeko brewed a pot of coffee, gazing at the endless starscape outside the window while reading through the Astral Express's archives. These records were built up by the Nameless who came before them. Now, it was Himeko and her crew's turn to add to them.
Meanwhile, March had spent her points. She had 40,000 left and used 10,000 to upgrade her Crystallized Memory, evolving it into the Power of Memory.
This evolution gave her entirely new abilities.
Besides still being able to manifest and shape memory crystals, she could now implant, modify, or delete memories—either in individuals she physically touched, or even in entire groups within her area of effect.
March was thrilled. After all, as the daughter of Fuli, the Aeon of Remembrance, it'd be pretty shameful if she couldn't actually manipulate memories.
But the downside? Her overall power level didn't increase. That stung a little.
During this time, she even tried using her new Power of Memory on herself, attempting to recover her lost past. Unsurprisingly, it failed.
She wasn't shocked or overly disappointed. After all, her memories were sealed by her Universal-tier deadbeat dad. There was no way she—a mere Surface-tier combatant—could break through a lock forged by an Aeon.
Shrugging it off, she used another 10,000 points for a single Premium gacha pull.
She'd considered doing ten Mid-tier pulls instead. But weighing the odds of getting something genuinely good, she decided one Premium pull was the better bet. Even if it was just one shot, the Premium tier had much better rates.
And it paid off. She got something really good. A pretty impressive weapon, actually.
But March herself? She was kinda bummed.
Because the weapon she pulled was a bow called Guinsoo's Rageblade.
The name sounded familiar to Yuki, but he couldn't quite place it at first. Then March materialized the bow, and all its system info appeared before him.
Ah, now he recognized it. It was an item from that hugely popular competitive game back on Earth—League of Legends. Seeing it brought back a wave of nostalgia.
In the game, Guinsoo's Rageblade gave +40 attack damage, +30% attack speed, 30 bonus magic damage on hit, and two alternating effects: Light and Dark. Light provided 3 to 5 armor and magic resist for 5 seconds (stacking up to 15 to 25). Dark provided 6% armor and magic penetration for 5 seconds (stacking up to 30%).
Of course, those were just the digital in-game stats. In the real world, the weapon's effects were something else entirely.
In March's hands, Guinsoo's Rageblade boosted the user's overall power by 40% based on their current baseline strength. And every single attack dealt direct soul damage proportional to the user's power.
Only two effects, sure but both were utterly busted. Not only did it passively increase your strength just by holding it, but every hit bypassed physical defenses to directly damage the soul. An incredibly lethal weapon.
In the chat group's shop, this specific item was valued at a staggering 100,000 points. So March's 10,000-point pull? A massive, undeniable win.
The weapon's scaling effects capped out at the "Multiverse-tier." In the entire Star Rail universe, practically nothing could compare to the raw utility of Guinsoo's Rageblade.
Still, March was disappointed. It was a great item, just not what she wanted.
She'd been hoping for a sword.
Yuki knew, though once she actually used it in a real fight, she'd come around.
After this first pull, March didn't gamble further. She decided to save her remaining 20,000 points for her next big upgrade. Yuki was a bit surprised she didn't get hooked on the gacha mechanics.
With nothing else to do—the train still hadn't found a planet to visit—March got bored and headed back to her pink paradise of a room to rest.
Yuki, meanwhile, sat down across from Himeko in the Parlor Car.
She poured him a cup of coffee. He thanked her and took a sip.
Himeko's coffee-brewing skills were as flawlessly reliable as ever. Rich, smooth, perfectly bitter with a hint of roasted fragrance—no sourness or astringency. Yuki found himself taking several appreciative sips.
"Not bad. Your coffee is really something, Himeko."
"If I couldn't have your coffee anymore down the line, I don't know what I'd do." Yuki mused, his words carrying a subtle, lingering implication.
Himeko caught it immediately.
"You're leaving?"
"So soon?!" Surprise flickered across her elegant face, her golden eyes betraying a sudden, sharp hint of reluctance.
Yuki had mentioned before that he wouldn't stay on the train permanently. But this was sudden. She hadn't expected him to bring it up so quickly.
That deep loneliness she'd felt while gazing at the endless cosmos? It came rushing back, stronger and colder than before.
Over this short time, she had grown used to having Yuki and March by her side. The thought of losing one of them... it stung.
"I've been here a while now. It's time to head back."
"But don't worry, it's not like I'm gone for good. I'll drop by and check on you all from time to time." Yuki smiled gently at the mature, poised woman before him.
Himeko fell silent for a long moment.
Hesitation flickered in her eyes. Then, with a tentative tone and a gaze that carried a quiet, undeniable vulnerability, she asked:
"Can't you... not go?"
Her brow softened, almost begging. She reached across the small table and gently took one of his hands in hers.
It looked exactly like a woman trying to persuade her departing boyfriend to stay.
Yuki glanced down at her hands enveloping his, an odd, unreadable expression crossing his face.
Himeko seemed to suddenly realize how incredibly intimate her words and actions were. A faint, rosy blush crept onto her pale cheeks.
But she didn't let go. Her mature demeanor held strong, she met his gaze directly, refusing to back down from what she wanted.
"Not right away. I'll stay until we visit your first planet. Then I'll go," Yuki finally amended his timeline, his voice softening.
Hearing that he would delay his departure, Himeko's face lit up with a radiant, breathtaking smile. She nodded gently, her grip on his hand relaxing just a fraction.
Truth be told, she no longer felt such an urgency to find a planet.
In fact, a new, quiet thought crossed her mind: Maybe just drifting through the universe together like this forever wouldn't be so bad.