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Stelle felt as though she had been drifting through a fever dream that lasted an eternity.
In the haze, she'd heard the echoing, crystalline voice of Cocolia and the seductive, rhythmic thrum of the Stellaron, but they were too distorted to pull her back to reality. Yet, buried deeper in her subconscious, another voice—one far more grounded and irritating—had broken through the static.
"No hanky-panky... Let go of me... You stinky Kenta..."
"!!!"
"Kenta? Where is he?!"
The girl sat bolt upright on the clinic cot, her lungs burning as she gasped for air. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She wiped a bead of cold sweat from her brow, her golden eyes wide and unfocused.
"I must have woken up too fast," she muttered, clutching her chest. "I dreamt Kenta was flirting with other girls. The Galaxy Baseball Bat Hero losing to March 7th? What a nightmare. Thank goodness... it was just a dream."
As the relief washed over her, a sharp throb behind her eyes reminded her of how they'd gotten here. The agreement with Cocolia. The Goethe Grand Hotel. The sudden betrayal and the clatter of Silvermane armor in the hallway.
"You're awake? How are you feeling?"
Natasha appeared at her side, her calm presence acting as an anchor. Once Stelle had sorted out the 'where' and 'how' of their subterranean relocation, she wasted no time. She needed to find her team.
As soon as she stepped out into the dim, rust-scented air of Boulder Town, she spotted March 7th. But March wasn't alone. Kenta was standing right beside her, the two of them currently surrounded by a trio of energetic children.
Stelle ignored the kids and marched straight over. "Kenta! March! So this is where you've been hiding."
The pair turned in unison.
"You're finally awake!" March cried, her face lighting up with genuine relief.
Stelle offered a short nod before fixing Kenta with an inquisitive, slightly suspicious stare. Kenta, sensing the unspoken demand for a briefing, gave her a lazy grin.
"I'm a local here," he explained, leaning back against a nearby crate. "March and I are currently on a manhunt for Dan Heng. He woke up early and was promptly spirited away by Sampo. Hook and the Moles supposedly have a lead, which is why we're currently negotiating with the local authorities." He gestured toward the kids.
March 7th immediately planted her hands on her hips, her expression souring. "Negotiating? Wow, you have some nerve! You could have just asked Hook for the tip, but you insisted I play hide-and-seek, join the Mole Gang, and then get the info. You stinky Kenta!"
Kenta let out a carefree laugh, clearly enjoying her frustration.
The atmosphere seemed light, even pleasant—unless you were Stelle. The "raccoon" of the Express noticed the subtle shift in their dynamic. 'March.' 'Stinky Kenta.' Since when did they get on a first-name, insulting-nickname basis? She began to doubt whether that dream about Kenta flirting had been a dream at all. But before she could conduct a full forensic investigation, Hook interrupted.
"Hmph! You mustn't ignore Pitch-Dark Hook the Great!"
"No ignoring!" Julian, the little boy beside her, echoed dutifully.
March 7th quickly pivoted back to the game. "Alright, alright! Let's get this over with!"
Hook nodded solemnly. "Then all three of you have to find us! Wait... Kenta-Big Brother shouldn't come. He's a cheater."
Kenta shrugged, content to sit this one out.
Fifty seconds later, the search began. Between Stelle's scavenger instincts and March's enthusiasm, the three children were rounded up in record time.
"How about that, Boss?" March asked with a smug grin. "Ready to spill?"
"Mmm... a Leader of the Moles always keeps her word," Hook grumbled, looking a bit deflated. "Hook saw the black-haired Big Brother being taken to the Fight Club by the Blue-Haired Scoundrel."
"Fight Club?" Stelle and March exchanged a look of pure confusion.
Kenta, however, slapped his forehead. "Damn it. Sampo definitely took Dan Heng to fight illegal matches for a quick payout. We need to move."
The Fight Club wasn't far, but the atmosphere inside was a total departure from the quiet desperation of the streets. It was a cavern of noise, sweat, and fervent energy.
Standing in the center of the ring was Dan Heng, looking remarkably calm for a man surrounded by hostile machinery. On the commentary stand, a host was screaming into a megaphone.
"Brothers and sisters! The next match is the showdown of the night! The serious, exceptionally strong, and super-popular—'Cold-Faced Little Green Dragon'!"
Kenta burst out laughing. "Cold-Faced Little Green Dragon? I'm never letting him live that down."
Opposite Dan Heng stood three imposing robots, their hydraulics hissing as they prepared to charge. Stelle and March didn't wait for an invitation; they vaulted onto the stage, weapons drawn.
The "match" didn't last long. Between a cosmic baseball bat and a barrage of enchanted arrows, the robots were reduced to a pile of scrap metal in under three minutes.
Robot: [Internal Error: Unfair matchmaking detected. Report player for smurfing.]
As the trio stepped down from the stage, Kenta caught a fleeting glimpse of a blue-haired man trying to melt into the shadows near the exit.
"Let's go," Dan Heng said, his voice dropping into that familiar, serious register. "We need answers from Sampo."
Kenta prepared to follow, but as he turned, a small hand snatched his own.
"Hey! Stinky Kenta, where do you think you're going? Your 'compensation' for the clinic incident isn't finished yet!"
Kenta looked at March 7th, his eyebrows raised. "I helped you find your bodyguard, didn't I? Debt's paid, March."
March stammered, her face turning pink. "Well... that doesn't count! If I say it's not over, it's not over!"
Kenta sighed, relenting. He didn't have anywhere better to be, and seeing where this madness led was better than sitting at home.
Nearby, Stelle stared at their clasped hands, her expression drooping into a pout. 〒 _ 〒 Why are they still holding hands? I want to hold hands too!
Her bad mood was a fleeting thing, however. After a brief tug-of-war, the two separated. But Stelle could see it—the invisible bridge of friendship that had been built while she was asleep.
Ridiculous, she thought, tightening her grip on her bat. Why should the newcomer beat the childhood friend? Especially when I'm the newcomer-childhood-friend?
She looked at Kenta, then at March, and finally back at the exit.
"It's fine," the Galaxy Baseball Bat Hero declared internally. "The advantage is still mine. I know where the trash cans are hidden."
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