Chapter 322: If Only...
"Three... three hundred thousand people's will..." March 7th murmured. "...and you, Mr. Yang."
She stared at the holographic interface of the Chat Group's shared warehouse. Resting quietly within the digital grid was the Core of the Herrscher of Reason. It emitted a faint, ethereal blue light, casting a soft glow over her features. For the first time, the usually bubbly archer felt the crushing, suffocating weight of the object before her.
She didn't hesitate for long. March was a girl of action, someone who preferred snapping photos and cracking jokes over burying her nose in complex calculations. But her aversion to studying didn't mean she lacked reverence. She knew exactly whose hands this legacy belonged in.
"Mr. Yang!" she announced, her voice ringing out in the chat. "This Herrscher of Reason core is for you!"
Before Welt could even type a response, she fired off another message. "Anyway, this thing is completely useless to me! You heard what it takes—it requires a flawless understanding of structural principles just to recreate a single object. Asking me to learn all that physics and engineering is like asking Paimon to master advanced calculus! And besides..."
Her tone softened, carrying a rare, gentle sincerity. "This was originally yours. It was entrusted to you by everyone in your homeland. Now that it has crossed through the multiverse and returned, it only makes sense to give it back to its rightful owner. You're the only one fit to keep and use it!"
On the other side of the screen, Welt Yang fell silent. His grip tightened around his cane. His ingrained sense of morality, coupled with his heavy responsibilities as the crew's elder, made his first instinct a firm refusal.
That heavy silence bled through the chat, pressing down on every member. The Core of the Herrscher of Reason wasn't just a battery of immense power; it was a monument forged in blood and sacrifice, a staggering burden of three hundred thousand lost souls. His reluctance wasn't mere politeness. It was a deep-seated reverence for a history he had barely survived.
Just as the atmosphere threatened to turn stiflingly solemn, Stelle crashed into the conversation, bringing her signature brand of chaotic vitality to shatter the tension.
"Yes, exactly! What she said, Mr. Yang!" Stelle chimed in. "This thing has your name written all over it, so please don't decline!"
She expertly steered the narrative away from the crushing weight of history, pivoting toward lighthearted reality.
"Speaking from my very professional experience as March's assistant swordplay coach back on the Xianzhou Luofu, I can tell you with absolute certainty—" Stelle paused for dramatic effect. "March is... well, to put it tactfully, she's a prime candidate for 'happy education'! Academic-exclusive gear like the Herrscher Core, which requires intense concentration and PhD-level research, is strictly for the professionals! Our lovely Miss March's beauty and boundless energy need a much more elegant stage to shine!"
Though Stelle's words were playful and dripping with her usual snark, her underlying intention was crystal clear. On one hand, she was firmly backing March's decision, emphasizing Welt's perfect compatibility with the core. On the other hand, and far more crucially, she was trying to drag everyone's attention away from Welt's traumatic past.
Stelle's philosophy had always been remarkably straightforward: tragic backstories couldn't be rewritten, and wallowing in them was a waste of time. All she could do was use her own chaotic methods to steer their present and future toward a happier, more fulfilling direction. She preferred happy endings, after all.
Stelle's playful interjection and March's unwavering generosity acted as two gentle, persistent currents, slowly eroding the dam Welt had built around his heart. The stubborn refusal lodged in his throat began to dissolve.
He took a moment to re-evaluate their grim reality. Stelle, Dan Heng, and March were currently stranded in the treacherous domain of Amphoreus, their path forward shrouded in uncertainty. The trials the Astral Express Crew would face—from Amphoreus to the terrifying glimpse of a universe-wide crisis he had just witnessed in the future television—were only going to escalate.
If he reclaimed the authority of the Herrscher of Reason, that absolute mastery over 'understanding'and'construction' would astronomically boost the crew's survival odds. He could step up, playing a decisive role in the coming storms, and better shield these kids he had come to view as his own family.
Responsibility... Protecting his current family and honoring the legacy of his past had finally aligned.
After a long, drawn-out silence, Welt let out a deep, shuddering sigh. It sounded as though he was shedding a massive burden, only to willingly shoulder another.
"...I understand," Welt finally replied. "March, thank you for your trust. And thank you for this... gift. I will accept this power."
A soft chime echoed from the system interface. Through the Chat Group's shared warehouse, the faint blue core—a crystalline vessel carrying both the past and the future—crossed the boundaries of space and materialized quietly in Welt's palm.
A familiar, thrumming fluctuation washed over him. The core pulsed with a gentle warmth against his skin, like a weary, long-wandering traveler who had finally found its way home.
Sensing that Welt had finally dropped his guard, Stelle struck while the iron was hot, flawlessly executing her role as the group's master of topic-shifting.
"Hell yeah! That's what I'm talking about!" she cheered with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Now that Mr. Yang's combat power has skyrocketed, the Astral Express Crew can totally swagger sideways across the universe!"
Without missing a beat, she pivoted back to the original mystery. "Oh, by the way, Mr. Yang, what exactly happened when you vanished for so long earlier? Did you score some epic loot and sneak off to study it? Spill the tea, let's see it!"
Grateful for the distraction, Welt temporarily shelved the complex whirlwind of emotions brought on by the core. He adjusted his glasses, organized his thoughts, and began to recount the bizarre events surrounding the future television. He explained the "story of possibilities" he had just witnessed alongside Herta and Sunday.
He detailed the seemingly breezy, ocean-faring adventure the Express Crew experienced after Stelle selected "Ruskaya" as their destination. Then, his tone darkened as he described the sharp, horrifying turn the timeline took. He spoke of Herta confronting—and ultimately being devoured by—a terrifying, planetary-class sentient machine that radiated an powerful aura of Destruction.
And finally, he relayed that chilling, mechanical declaration: "In the name of Emperor Rupert III, the cosmic war begins!"
The recounting left the Chat Group in a stunned, captivated silence. The very concept of a future television ignited a blazing fire of curiosity in everyone's minds.
Who hadn't laid awake at night, wondering how their life might have drastically changed if they had simply made a different choice at a critical crossroads?
In Teyvat, Aether couldn't help but think back to that fateful morning on the sun-drenched beach of Mondstadt. If he hadn't fished that little white sprite out of the water... would his journey to find his sister have been a solitary, agonizingly difficult path from the very start?
Sensing the shift in his mood, Paimon floated closer, her tiny hands reaching out to tightly grip the fabric of Aether's clothes, as if terrified he might suddenly vanish.
In New Eridu, Wise and Belle exchanged a long, meaningful glance. They saw the exact same deep relief mirrored in each other's eyes. If it hadn't been for this miraculous Chat Group, would they have ever met this chaotic, wonderful family of multiversal friends who had given them such incredible support? Would their world have spiraled into an apocalyptic nightmare, completely consumed by Hollows, without the miraculous "Optimization Power" that reversed Etherealization?
Meanwhile, Stelle's thoughts were spiraling even further out of control.
She vividly remembered the navigation meeting on the Express. Pom-Pom had laid out several alternative jump coordinates besides Amphoreus and Ruskaya: the Agate World of "Melchizedek" and the "Glassy Glacial Belt" inhabited by the Mourning People.
What if her finger had slipped on the astral chart? What if she had chosen one of those two destinations instead? Would they be sipping cosmic cocktails on a beach right now, far better off than being trapped in Amphoreus?
Or would they have plunged headfirst into a completely different, yet equally lethal, multiversal disaster?
This tantalizing imagination of "the path not taken" was intoxicating, yet it carried a heavy, lingering awe toward the vast, unforgiving unknown.
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