Chapter 121: The Master Ball is Finally Useful!
March 7th stared at Stelle, momentarily stunned.
This girl was usually all jokes, goofy antics, and playful pranks. But once she set her mind on something—especially something tinged with the weight of "loyalty" and "promise"—a stubbornness took root that not even nine wild oxen could dislodge.
"Alright..." March 7th sighed, a helpless yet warm smile blooming on her face. Her hesitation melted away. She turned and began to rummage through her personal pile of belongings, finally producing the iconic red-and-white Master Ball and handing it over to Stelle.
"Here, take it! I hope your 'Large Pet Taming Project' is a success... and most, most," she added, her voice earnest, "remember to tell Pom-Pom!"
"Don't you worry! Leave it to me!" Stelle immediately snapped back to her usual playful self, clutching the Master Ball to her chest as if it were a priceless treasure. "I knew you were the best, March!"
With her mission accomplished, Stelle turned to make a quick getaway. She reached the doorway but then paused, turning back to look at March 7th, who was still wearing a worried expression. In a flash, Stelle's mischievous side took over again, and she offered a reminder in an overly "sincere" tone.
"Oh, right, March! Don't just focus on taking pictures; you should hurry to the training room and get properly acquainted with your Sode no Shirayuki!"
Her voice dripped with mock concern. "Otherwise, if a real fight breaks out, I'm afraid one slash from you will leave the enemy perfectly fine, but you'll freeze me and Dan Heng into a pair of ice sculptures first! That would be a huge joke!"
"Stelle—!!!" Instantly enraged by the sudden backstab, all of March 7th's worries were blasted away by a surge of indignation.
She snatched a fluffy, soft pillow from the bed and, with all her might, hurled it at the annoying figure framed in the doorway.
"Oh, really?! I'll give you a slash right now! Let's see if you dare to spout any more nonsense!"
"Hehe, you can't hit me!" Stelle had clearly anticipated the attack. With an agile sidestep, she perfectly dodged the airborne pillow.
The pillow hit the doorframe with a soft thump before sliding gently to the floor.
Stelle shot a smug, triumphant face at March 7th, who was stomping her foot in frustration. Then, she quickly slipped out of the room, leaving only a trail of arrogant laughter echoing down the corridor.
March 7th glared at the empty doorway, her gaze dropping to the defeated pillow on the floor. She stomped her foot one last time, a helpless gesture, but couldn't stop a small laugh from bubbling up at Stelle's antics.
'That girl… she can't stay serious for more than three seconds!'she thought, a fond exasperation warming her chest.'Still, I hope her "Master Ball plan" goes smoothly.'
She bent down, picked up the pillow, and patted the dust off it. "Hmph! Just you wait!" she muttered to herself. "I'm going to the training room right now and I'm going to master Sode no Shirayuki! And the first person I freeze will be you!"
Grabbing the elegant white katana from the table, she marched off, filled with a fiery determination to prove herself. At least a sword wouldn't tease her.
Meanwhile, Stelle, holding the Master Ball, stood before a large porthole in the observation car. She gazed out at the vast, shimmering sea of stars, her eyes gleaming with eager anticipation.
"Miemie… you just wait! Your new home—the Master Ball—and your new pooper-scooper—that's me—are on their way!"
With that whispered promise, Stelle's figure dissolved into the pillar of light from the Domain Anchor, whisking her from the Astral Express to Penacony.
That afternoon on Penacony, the staff responsible for guarding that very special "exhibit" experienced a silent, collective shock.
They watched, utterly helpless, as Miss Stelle—a figure of special status and a recognized shareholder of Penacony—swaggered directly into the isolation field where the giant Memetic, "Something Unto Death," was imprisoned.
At first, a few low, thrilling hisses and violent energy fluctuations pulsed from within the containment field. But just as quickly, they subsided into an unnerving silence.
When Stelle emerged from the isolation field a short while later, she wore a relaxed expression, a look that was a mixture of deep satisfaction and a "job well done" air. She even had the nerve to give them a casual wave.
When the staff, trembling with a mixture of fear and morbid curiosity, finally peered back into the field, it was already empty.
That massive, hideous, and deeply ominous avatar of death—Something Unto Death—had simply vanished into thin air. There had been no devastating battle, no signs of a spatial tear, nothing. It was as if the creature had never existed at all.
The guards exchanged panicked glances, cold sweat beading on their foreheads.
They all knew of Stelle's special status. She was one of Penacony's "shareholders" and, more, the key figure who had resolved the "Star of the Grand Feast" crisis. How could mere junior employees like them dare to question or stop her? All they could do was watch as she hummed a cheerful tune, her figure disappearing into the halo of light leading back to the Astral Express's Domain Anchor.
"What… what just happened?" one guard finally stammered.
"Miss Stelle… did she just put 'Something Unto Death'… into a ball and take it away?" another whispered, his voice cracking.
"That ball… it wasn't even as big as one of its claws, was it?"
"Should we… should we report this to Mr. Sunday?"
"…Report it. What else can we do? She's gone, and the thing is gone, too."
The news quickly reached Sunday. The de facto leader, after hearing the report, merely stroked his chin, a thoughtful glint flashing in his eyes before he waved his hand with an air of calm indifference.
"I understand. Let her be," Sunday's voice was measured, holding a hint of complex calculation. "Miss Stelle has a special status, and there appears to be some unclear entanglement between her and that particular Memetic. Besides, keeping that creature here was a constant drain on our resources. It could never be tamed and was useless for anything beyond frightening people."
He gave a slight, almost imperceptible smile. "It's good that it's gone. I can use this incident to file a complaint with the Family and the Corporation. Perhaps I can even secure more compensation."
In his eyes, this was simply another profitable transaction.
As for where Miemie was taken, or whether its fate would be a blessing or a curse, he did not care in the slightest.
And so, Stelle's seemingly reckless action, under the tacit understanding and subtle calculations of all parties involved, had achieved a "perfect" outcome. Miemie was freed from its cage, Gallagher's entrustment was initially fulfilled, the staff avoided any trouble, and Sunday found a new excuse to extract funds.
When Stelle's figure reappeared in the Domain Anchor's light within the Astral Express's observation car, stars were already twinkling outside the window, and the lights inside the train cast a warm, peaceful glow.
Dinner time had long passed, but a faint, savory scent of food still lingered in the air.
Stelle, who had been busy all day, felt as if her bones were about to fall apart. She dragged her feet across the floor, "sliding" into the soft embrace of the sofa like a liquid, and let out a long, satisfied sigh.
Pom-Pom, seeing the Trailblazer looking both "dusty from her travels" and "victoriously retired," trotted forward with concern. "Passenger Stelle, you've worked hard, Pom-Pom! Would you like some refreshments?"
The conductor then thoughtfully brought over a refreshing, fruity drink made with Star Rail's special teas.
"Thanks, Pom-Pom!" Stelle took the glass and gulped down a large mouthful. The cool, sweet-and-sour liquid instantly washed away her fatigue.
She brought up her chat interface, ready to enter her most relaxing and uninhibited time of the day—chatting and, more, bragging in the group
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