Chapter 67: March 7th's Second Attempt
March 7th drifted through the parlor car of the Astral Express like a panicked, headless fly. Her semi-transparent hands swiped frantically at Stelle's shoulder, passing right through the fabric of her coat in a useless blur of ethereal light.
"Stelle! Stelle! Look at me! Help me, Stelle!" she wailed, her voice echoing in a frequency that clearly wasn't reaching the physical realm.
Stelle remained entirely oblivious. The gray-haired Trailblazer sat cross-legged on the plush sofa, her golden eyes locked onto the worn pages of a newly acquired sword manual. Her brow was pinched in deep concentration as she chewed on her lower lip, trying to decipher obscure Xianzhou cultivation terms. 'Qi Piercing the Long Rainbow.' 'Divine Will Connection.'
To Stelle, the physical March 7th was simply taking an impromptu nap. She had found it mildly amusing when the pink-haired archer had abruptly face-planted into the cushions just moments ago. Now, the sleeping girl was letting out a series of muffled, distressed whimpers. A nightmare, probably.
"Tsk. Must be nice being young," Stelle muttered dryly, not even bothering to look up from her book. "Just flop down and pass out. Even her sleep is... aggressively lively." She flipped a page, her finger tracing a complex diagram of human meridians. "Where exactly is this 'Dantian' thing supposed to be, anyway? Is it near the stomach?"
Floating just inches above her, March 7th's ethereal face contorted into a mask of pure despair. She was being ignored! Was she dead? Was she a ghost doomed to haunt the Express forever while her best friend read wuxia novels?! Her overactive imagination spun wildly out of control, pushing her toward a spectral panic attack.
Then, a spark of logic pierced through the hysteria.
'Wait!'she thought, her ghostly eyes widening.'Soul out of body! That's what the talisman does! It's just astral projection! I'm still alive! I can still be saved!'
Hope flared in her chest. Wasting zero time, March 7th aligned her transparent form with the physical shell slumped on the cushions and dove straight down.
Whoosh!
A heavy, rushing sensation slammed into her. Gravity reasserted its grip with a vengeance. On the sofa, March 7th bolted upright. Her lungs hitched, sucking in a massive, ragged breath of recycled cabin air. Cold sweat beaded along her forehead, and her usually rosy cheeks were stark white. Her chest heaved as if she had just gone ten rounds bare-handed against a Doomsday Beast.
"Hoo... hoo..." She clutched the fabric of her shirt right over her racing heart, her fingers trembling. "I was... I was so scared..."
"Hmm? Bad dream?" Stelle finally tore her gaze away from the manual. Seeing March's disheveled hair and wide, panicked eyes, a smug, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.
She carefully set the sword manual down on the coffee table, cleared her throat, and adjusted her posture to project an aura of absolute, unshakable reliability. "Ahem. March, you young people really shouldn't stress yourselves out so much. As the captain of our trailblazing squad—" she added the title with entirely unearned confidence "—you can always confide in me. Whatever worries you have, your captain is here to shoulder the burden."
Stelle even made a grand, sweeping gesture, half-rising from her seat as if preparing to bestow a comforting pat on her subordinate's head.
"It's... it's nothing like that!" March swatted Stelle's hand away, though the physical contact grounded her. "I just used the Sheep Talisman! My soul literally left my body for a minute!" She blurted out the reality-breaking statement with breathless intensity.
Seeing Stelle's ridiculous, self-appointed 'captain' routine, March couldn't help but feel a mix of deep annoyance and fond amusement. The lingering chill of her near-death panic rapidly melted away under the warmth of her friend's usual nonsense.
Stelle blinked, opening her mouth to demand details about this supposed soul-ejection, but March suddenly froze. Her bright blue-and-pink eyes widened as an idea struck her with the force of a lightning bolt.
'Wait a minute,'March thought, her pulse quickening for an entirely different reason.'Soul out of body... I have amnesia. Six-Phased Ice preserved my body, but what about my soul? What if my memories aren't actually gone? What if they're just locked away deep inside my spiritual form?'Her hands tightened into fists on her lap.'Or... what if I can look inward and see the past of my own soul?'
That single, electrifying possibility completely washed away the last dregs of her fear. In its place bloomed an intense, burning curiosity and a fragile glimmer of genuine hope.
"I'm going back in. One more try!" March declared, her expression hardening with sudden resolve. She snatched up the octagonal stone carved with the image of a sheep, gripping it tightly in her palm.
A soft, ethereal white light pulsed from the stone. In the blink of an eye, the heavy weight of gravity vanished, and her spiritual form drifted effortlessly out of her physical shell.
"Uh..." Stelle, who had just inhaled deeply to deliver a follow-up speech about the responsibilities of a Trailblazer, choked on her own words. She watched as March 7th's eyes rolled back and her body slumped lifelessly against the armrest, dead to the world once more.
Stelle's grand, captain-like posture deflated. She stared at the comatose archer for a long, silent moment before letting out a long, helpless sigh. "...Alright then. I guess young people really do bounce back fast. Just flop down and go right back to sleep."
Back in the spectral realm, March 7th felt no panic. Instead, she took a moment to truly experience the sensation of absolute weightlessness. She drifted through the air like a balloon cut loose from its string, twirling lazily in the space above the coffee table.
Gliding over to Stelle, she hovered right beside the gray-haired girl's ear. Stelle had already picked the sword manual back up, her brows knitted together in that same intense, slightly goofy expression of absolute focus. A mischievous spark lit up March's translucent eyes.
"BOO!!!" March leaned in close and screamed at the absolute top of her spectral lungs.
Stelle didn't even flinch. She didn't blink. She merely raised a hand and absentmindedly scratched at her earlobe, turning another page of her book.
"Aww. As expected, she can't hear or feel me at all," March pouted, crossing her arms in disappointment. She extended an index finger and tried to poke Stelle right in her squishy cheek, but her digit simply phased through the flesh without the slightest bit of resistance.
"This state..." March murmured to herself, floating backward. "It feels a lot like those Memokeepers from the Garden of Recollection. Aren't they supposed to be made of pure memory? Some kind of... memetic entity?"
Pondering the mechanics of her new ghostly existence, she drifted higher, casually scanning the familiar layout of the Astral Express parlor car from a brand-new vantage point.
Suddenly, her gaze snagged on a shadowy corner near the phonograph.
She froze.
There, hovering silently in the air, was a figure.
The stranger was draped in elegant, flowing garments of white and deep blue. A hood was pulled low over their head, and their face was entirely obscured by a smooth, featureless blue mask. March's breath caught in her non-existent throat. The figure was perfectly still, exuding an aura of quiet, observing stillness that felt incredibly sneaky. Worse, that specific style of dress triggered a very specific, very alarming memory in March's mind.
Her spectral pupils shrank to pinpricks. The pieces clicked together in a terrifying realization.
'Oh my god!'March screamed internally.'An Emanator of Remembrance! Lurking right here on the Express!'Her mind immediately jumped to the worst possible conclusions.'What are they doing here?! Are they trying to steal our memories while we sleep? Are they going to wipe our minds and throw us out the airlock?! This is it! This is a massive, universe-spanning conspiracy against the Nameless!'
Cold panic gripped her once more, but this time, it was laced with the adrenaline of discovering an enemy infiltrator. She had a mission. She had to warn the crew!
March spun around and dive-bombed straight back into her physical body.
She shot up from the sofa like a coiled spring, her hands shooting out to grab Stelle's arm in a vice-like grip. Stelle, who was still deeply engrossed in trying to locate her Dantian, let out a startled grunt.
"Stelle! Stelle!" March hissed, her voice trembling with a chaotic mix of terror and excitement. "Something terrible has happened! I saw—I saw an Emanator from the Garden of Recollection! Right there, in the corner of the parlor car!" She pointed a shaking finger toward the phonograph. "They're just floating there! Being totally sneaky and suspicious! They definitely have ill intentions! We need to go wake up Uncle Yang and Himeko right now!"
Stelle blinked, momentarily stunned by the sheer velocity of March's outburst. She followed the archer's trembling finger, staring into the seemingly empty corner of the room.
Then, the tension bled out of Stelle's shoulders. A look of dawning comprehension washed over her face, quickly followed by a dry, amused smile.
"Oh," Stelle said flatly. "You mean her."
"Her?" March echoed, her jaw dropping. "You... you know about the sneaky ghost assassin?!"
"Mm," Stelle nodded, her tone as casual as if she were discussing what Pom-Pom was making for dinner. "She never actually gave me her real name. Just told me to call her the Messenger. Anyway, she's been hanging out over there for quite a while now."
Stelle leaned back, crossing her arms with a look of supreme, unbothered confidence. "She said that because I'm clearly the chosen one, destined to become the strongest Trailblazer in the universe, she came here specifically to record some of my... um... 'precious' memory fragments."
Stelle tilted her head, giving March a curious, appraising look. "She also mentioned that only I could see her. Pom-Pom can't even perceive her presence—though honestly, who knows if that's actually true. So, how exactly are you seeing her?"
"Huh? Recording your memories?" March sat there, utterly dumbfounded.
In an instant, her grand, dramatic conspiracy theory deflated like a sad, punctured balloon. There was no assassination plot. No mind-wiping scheme. Just a weird memory ghost stalking Stelle. It was a complete false alarm.
"I... I can see her when I use this talisman..." March mumbled, her cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment as she awkwardly shook the small stone in her hand.
"Oh, I see. Well, that's great." Stelle grinned, clearly not taking the situation seriously in the slightest. "Now I finally have someone who can 'appreciate' the Emanator's presence with me. By the way, remember to help me clear out the Forgotten Hall later."
With that incredibly casual dismissal, Stelle's attention snapped right back to her wuxia book.
"Man, this move, 'Golden Light Demon Subduing', sounds so incredibly cool on paper," Stelle muttered to herself, already lost in the text again. "I just don't know if I can actually replicate the effects described in the cultivation method..."
Knowing that the creepy floating figure was a 'friendly' NPC rather than a hostile invader, the heavy knot of anxiety in March's chest finally loosened.
She slumped back against the sofa cushions. While she was a little bummed that her grand attempt to unlock her sealed memories hadn't yielded immediate results, the fact that the Sheep Talisman allowed her to perceive memetic entities was a pretty huge discovery in itself.
She glanced over at Stelle, who had already re-entered a state of absolute zen, achieving perfect unity between person and book. Then, she looked down at the octagonal stone resting in her palm.
Her innate, boundless curiosity rapidly began to bubble up again, easily overpowering her lingering embarrassment.
'Soul power...'March mused, tapping her chin.'What exactly can it do? It can't just be a parlor trick for scaring myself half to death, right?'
Gripping the talisman, she let her spirit slip free from her physical tethers once more.
Floating away from her sleeping body, March began to explore the parlor car with renewed, intense interest. She hovered over the coffee table, narrowing her eyes as she tried to move a teacup with her mind (a complete failure). She drifted toward the nearest partition and pushed her face against the solid metal, giggling as she phased right through it into the hallway (a resounding success). She even floated down to the floorboards, trying to see if she could scuff the freshly waxed wood that Pom-Pom had just spent an hour polishing (absolutely no result).
Drifting through the air with a bright, weightless smile, March 7th was exactly like a child who had just been handed the greatest toy in the universe, eagerly testing the limits of her brand-new ghostly powers.
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