Chapter 203: Stelle's Undercover Mission
"Pikachu, use Thunderbolt!"
"Damn it, I lost again…" Silver Wolf and Stelle sat side-by-side on the sofa, each holding a game console.
"Speaking of which…" Stelle suddenly began, her battle-winning Pokémon forgotten. She looked around the empty lounge, her gray-and-gold GBA dangling from one hand. "How come I haven't seen Orion lately?"
Silver Wolf's fingers paused on her D-pad. She let out an exaggerated, put-upon sigh. "He's probably with Firefly," she said, her voice dripping with dissatisfaction. She clicked her tongue.
"Hmph, that girl... First, she's all 'Orion, let's train, it's for the Borisin hunt,' and now he's with her all the time." Silver Wolf tossed her GBA onto the couch cushion. "He hasn't helped me with my new server setup, he skipped our King of Fighters tournament, and... with him gone, playing games just hasn't been as fun."
Stelle thoughtfully put down her game console. She recalled the few missions she'd been on since her "birth." Whenever there was danger—a collapsing ruin, a sudden ambush by IPC mechs—Orion was always the first to block in front of her.
He was cold, distant, and carried a sadness she couldn't understand, but he was also the most reliable person she'd ever met. He was the one who had named her.
Unbeknownst to her, the 'blank slate' had become closest to him, imprinting on him like he was a logical, if emotionally unavailable, anchor. Thinking of this, Stelle also felt a bit lost.
"Silver Wolf," she suddenly announced, "I'm going to train too." She stood up, her movements decisive.
"Hmph, whatever," Silver Wolf mumbled. "Go join the 'Orion Fan Club'. See if I care."
She picked up her game console again, but after playing for a bit, she found it boring. The single-player mode felt empty. "…So boring."
She also stood up and walked towards the training room, her boots silent on the ship's deck.
In the training room, the air hummed with the sound of energy simulators. You were sparring with Firefly.
Bang!
Her fist, glowing with the green-gold energy she channeled, brushed past your cheek, the heat of it stinging your skin.
You didn't flinch. You sidestepped, letting her momentum carry her past, and grabbed her wrist, twisting it into a joint lock.
"Your movements are still too direct," you said, your voice calm and steady, a stark contrast to the high-intensity combat. "You're telegraphing the punch. Use your hips, not just your shoulder."
This was your new routine. Your hunt for the Borisin had become a dark obsession, and Firefly was the only one you allowed into that part of your life. Your training sessions were no longer simple spars; they were lethal, synchronized drills.
Just then, the door to the training room was pushed open. Stelle walked in. "I want to train too!" she declared, her golden eyes bright.
Immediately after, Silver Wolf also arrived, slumping against the doorframe. "Me too! This is officially the most popular room on the ship. What are we, a gym?"
The subsequent training became a chaotic, almost comical, rotation.
StSelle was first. She was raw, unpolished power. You'd throw a simulated enemy at her, and she'd simply smash it with her lance, forgoing all technique.
"Stelle, parry, then thrust. Don't just swing it like a bat," you'd instruct, exasperated.
"But the bat-swing works!" she'd reply, before smashing another one.
Then came Silver Wolf.
"I'm not doing that," she'd say, flatly.
"Silver Wolf, it's hand-to-hand combat."
"Yeah, so I'll just hack the training dummy."
"You can't."
"Watch me."
The dummy would suddenly freeze, its limbs contorting, before doing a popular dance emote.
"See? Hacked."
Finally, it would be Firefly's turn again. The mood would shift instantly. The chaotic, playful energy vanished. Your sparring was silent, focused, and deadly. You moved around each other, a dance of blades and energy, anticipating each other's moves.
The three girls, for their part, took turns practicing combat with you. And all the "necessary physical contact"—you correcting Stelle's stance, you dodging Silver Wolf's attempts to trip you, you and Firefly moving in perfect, lethal sync—secretly satisfied them.
This strange, broken, and chaotic group... it was the closest thing to a "home" any of them had ever known.
Days passed like this.
This day, Kafka called Stelle alone into the conference room.
"I have a mission for you," Kafka said, her usual playful smile absent. Her gaze was more serious than usual.
"What mission?" Stelle tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "Is it another Stellaron? Are Orion and Firefly coming?"
"…No. It's something more important." Kafka paused, her wine-red eyes holding a rare hint of sympathy. "You might… have to temporarily leave the Stellaron Hunters."
"Huh?" Stelle was stunned. Leave? She'd just gotten here. She'd just learned how to play Pokémon.
"Go to another place, join another organization," Kafka said slowly, each word deliberate. "Even… lose your memories of us and conceal your identity."
Stelle's golden pupils widened. "Why? Why me? Silver Wolf is so amazing at hacking, Firefly is so strong, and Orion is even more so… I'm... I'm just me."
"It has to be you," Kafka interrupted gently. "Elio's script is very clear. Only you have the capacity for what's to come. Only you can complete this mission."
Stelle opened her mouth, but seeing the finality in Kafka's expression, she finally closed it. She was born a member of the Stellaron Hunters. She loved it here so much. The games with Silver Wolf, the kind smiles from Firefly, the... everything from Kafka. And Orion.
Thinking of that name, Stelle's heart inexplicably tightened. Unconsciously, she had become very reliant on him. He was the one who named her. He was the one she instinctively looked for in a fight. He was the "Dad" from her first joke, a joke that felt less and less like a joke every day.
"I know what you're worried about," Kafka said gently, reading her expression. "Don't worry, you'll come back after the mission is complete. I promise."
Stelle couldn't bear to leave, but since the mission could only be completed by her, she wouldn't shy away. She was, after all, a Stellaron Hunter.
"I understand… I accept the mission."
Kafka told you all the news later that evening.
In the lounge, the atmosphere was somewhat heavy.
Firefly sat on the sofa, her hands clenched in her lap, her heart filled with shock and reluctance. "But... she just got here. We... we've become such good friends."
Silver Wolf, on the other hand, was full of displeasure. "Are you kidding me? I just taught her how to play King of Fighters! She was finally getting good enough to be a decent co-op partner! Who am I supposed to play with now?" Her pouting was a thin veil over her own sadness.
And Blade, who had been standing in the shadows, remained taciturn, only saying simply, "Be careful."
You were the calmest one.
Your mind was on the Borisin. Your heart was in a grave on the Fanghu. This... this was just another Tuesday. People leave. People die. That was the only lesson you'd ever learned.
You looked at Stelle, who was trying very hard to be brave, and felt a small, distant pang of reluctance. She was... amusing.
"Take good care of yourself when you go," you said, your voice indifferent, almost cold. "Don't be so strange all the time; you'll scare your new companions. Don't go around calling the first man you see 'Dad'. Remember to come back later."
Stelle stared at you blankly. She could accept the others' reactions, but you… How could you be so cold?!