Firefly flew through the air, deep in thought. Finally, she made up her mind.
"Well, might as well eat first," she decided.
She landed in a secluded spot and deactivated her transformation.
"Whew—" Firefly took a deep breath. SAM's form was undeniably cool and powerful, and transforming into him was exciting. But for some reason—perhaps the novelty had worn off—she still preferred being herself as Firefly.
For example, if she had to choose between spending a day as SAM or a day as Firefly, she would unhesitatingly choose the latter.
It's worth noting that, according to the lore of the Star Rail game, Firefly was canonically meant to spend far more time as SAM than in her ordinary form.
Firefly habitually smoothed her bangs, tucking a stray strand of silver hair that had fallen across her face behind her ear. Then, she began leisurely "selecting" her upcoming lunch.
As for where this lunch would come from? Simple: Miss Robin would order an extra portion of takeout and have it delivered through the Chat Group.
The Shu Cat's ability was truly invaluable. Without the Chat Group, Firefly would likely have been stuck worrying about her meals for a long time in this Dimensional Rift.
Speaking of which, since items could be freely transported, if Robin outside initiated a request to summon Group Members, could Firefly simply leave?
"That's insane," Firefly muttered to herself. She'd never heard of anyone being able to transfer things between the inside and outside of a Dimensional Rift before. Was the Shu Cat's Chat Group rank surprisingly high?
As she pondered this, Firefly suddenly noticed Shu Cat spamming the Chat Group with messages:
Shu Cat: Sister Peace, I was wrong! You're way cuter than Robin. Please don't ignore me!
Shu Cat: Waaah, I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!
Shu Cat: Big Sis! Sis! My dearest sister! Please, just say something!
When Firefly first saw these messages, she was momentarily stunned. Why was this kid apologizing out of nowhere?
Then it dawned on Firefly: Ah, it must be because of that deathly question she'd asked just before being pulled into the Dimensional Rift. Shu Cat had clearly answered, "Robin is cuter," but Firefly hadn't seen it before she was sucked into the rift.
Meanwhile, in the Chat Group, Shu Cat panicked when Peace Dove remained silent after his reply. He thought he'd said something wrong.
After a moment of contemplation, Firefly typed into the Chat Group:
Peace Dove: "Sorry, something came up suddenly, and I couldn't check the group. I'm back now."
Shu Cat: "Phew—thank goodness! I thought Sister Peace was angry..."
Peace Dove: "Wait, you think I'm cuter? Miss Robin is way cuter than me! I'm her biggest fan, you heretic! I'm furious!"
Shu Cat: "!?"
Red Cape Hero: "Mom, look! A clown!"
Invincible Bro: "Dying of laughter."
Today I Want to Eat Soup Dumplings: "HAHAHAHAHA! I was eating noodles, and I laughed so hard they shot out of my nose!"
Firefly's lips twitched as she read Soup Dumpling's comment. Even if we're not related, you're still pretty impressive. Blowing noodles out your nose? That's not something just anyone can do.
Soon, Robin's "delivery" arrived. Firefly found a relatively flat spot to sit. She had initially planned to sit cross-legged, but reconsidered, thinking it might be impolite. Instead, she opted for a side-sitting position, with both legs angled to her left.
After finishing her rather unhealthy junk food meal, Firefly thoughtfully used the Chat Group to send the trash back, avoiding littering.
Marveling once more at the Chat Group's convenience, Firefly brushed the dust off her rear and slowly stood up. Scanning the monotonous wilderness around her, an idea struck her. "Wait a minute! I still have my Tarot cards. Why not divine the location of the Four Heavenly Kings?"
Just as Firefly pulled out her Tarot deck, ready for a dramatic card draw, several hazy figures materialized in the distance. In this desolate landscape devoid of cover, both parties had spotted each other from afar.
Squinting slightly, Firefly could make out three figures approaching: a black-haired man, a green-haired woman with a longbow slung across her back, and a golden-haired girl in white robes holding a scepter.
In an instant, Firefly realized this was likely one of the four "Hero Parties" in this world. The composition was too obvious: a male protagonist, an elven archer, and a priestess healer. What a classic harem plot!
Noticing Firefly, the trio quickened their pace and soon reached her side. The "male protagonist" eagerly stepped forward and said, "Miss, what are you doing in a place like this? Do you need any help? I'm the Shield Hero, one of the four heroes summoned to this world! Tell me what's troubling you, and I'll do my best to assist you!"
Huh? What the hell? The Shield Hero? That cuckolded turtle man?
Of course, this guy didn't look like the protagonist from the anime Firefly had watched in her previous life. But that didn't stop a wave of disgust from rising in her heart at the mere mention of the words "Shield Hero."
To be honest, Firefly had never been fond of heroes who built harems. She was a staunch believer in pure romance! Even in her previous life, while fantasizing about obtaining a Golden Finger and dominating another world, she never considered building a harem. Instead, she imagined finding a cute wife and growing old together.
So, with her already low opinion of harem-building heroes, the mere mention of "Shield Hero" only deepened her contempt.
Fine, build your harem if you must, but if you can't even protect them, what kind of pathetic excuse for a hero are you?
Of course, for Firefly herself, thoughts of harems and marriage were irrelevant. Her sole focus was on maintaining her image as a quiet and beautiful young girl.
In short, the "Shield Hero" seemed to mistake her for a local native, treating her like an NPC as he rambled on and on, apparently trying to solicit a quest from her.
Firefly's response was anything but ladylike: she flipped him the middle finger.
PS: After the battle with the Mad Lion, the Iron Cavalry's campaign objective reached ninety-five percent completion, just five percent short of the finish line.