SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 590: Through the Snowstorm

Several hours had elapsed since the morning meal.

The clock now indicated it was the afternoon. Unbeknownst to those aboard, the train had long since departed Velkaris, traversing thousands of kilometers from the city. Its journey cut through verdant forests, skirted low-lying mountains, and crossed a majestic river, beneath the surface of which colossal forms could be observed navigating the deep currents, ancient monsters lurking far below the bridge.

No stops were made at any intermediate cities along the extended route.

This particular train was meticulously designed for this singular journey, its path and destination predetermined, with no deviations planned.

At a certain juncture, the external temperature began to markedly decrease.

Cynthia, who had been gazing out the window for a considerable period, shifted her posture slightly forward.

"Look, Trafalgar. Snow. It appears we have arrived at the location they spoke of."

Trafalgar was seated beside her, engrossed in a book. He had been immersed in its pages until she initiated the conversation. The novel hailed from a local author of this realm, a choice he had made primarily due to his abundant free time, and moreover, because his arrival in Aurevane would likely precipitate a cessation of such leisurely pursuits.

He gently lowered the book, directing his gaze to follow Cynthia's indication.

The landscape outside had undergone a dramatic transformation.

An expansive snow-covered plain unfurled across the terrain, interrupted solely by distant mountain ranges and sporadic dark formations of rock, partially submerged beneath the abundant white. The train had commenced a gradual deceleration. Initially, delicate snowflakes drifted past the windows, sufficiently sparse to permit clear visibility. Gradually, however, the wind intensified its force, the flakes grew larger and more numerous, and a dense mist began to obscure the surroundings until scarcely anything remained visible beyond the glass pane.

"It seems we've entered the zone they predicted would cause a delay," Trafalgar remarked, lightly placing a finger within the book to mark his progress. "I wonder how significant the actual delay will be."

Cynthia's fascination with the view appeared to have waned.

The tempest raging outside had escalated considerably, with snow being driven horizontally with such velocity that the window presented the illusion of a solid white, moving curtain. Interspersed with the snow was a fog of such profound density that the world beyond the train was almost entirely obliterated.

"The temperature outside must be absolutely dreadful," Cynthia commented.

"Most likely," Trafalgar responded. "However, you did spend time in Euclid."

"I don't believe it's comparable. Euclid was manageable, within acceptable limits."

A faint flush warmed her cheeks as she uttered these words.

The recollection surfaced with unexpected ease. The snowdrifts of Euclid, the serene gardens, and the moment Trafalgar offered her his jacket upon sensing her chill. Cynthia's thoughts trailed off, and she remained silent.

Trafalgar noted her pause but offered no verbal acknowledgment.

He resumed his reading.

The narrative itself possessed a certain merit. While occasionally peculiar, it held his interest. He had come to understand that novels originating from this world often featured a divergent approach to pacing, perhaps attributable to the local populace's unique perspectives on time, travel, and peril. What might be perceived as an inordinate duration on Earth was, in this context, sometimes considered standard. Similarly, events that struck others as dramatically significant often felt like routine occurrences to him.

Nevertheless, it served as a welcome diversion.

Or, at least, it had done so until now.

The train's movement began to exhibit a more pronounced unevenness.

While not reaching a perilous level, the carriage's previously smooth ride was noticeably disrupted. The floor vibrated beneath his feet with subtle, irregular pulses, and periodically, a powerful gust of wind would buffet the exterior defenses with enough force to cause the entire car to sway.

Trafalgar lifted his gaze from the printed page.

He was aware of the train's inherent safety. Selara had contributed to its design, and despite her eccentricities, she was far from incompetent. Yet, he had to concede that experiencing the carriage shudder in such a manner, enveloped by snow and swirling fog, did little to foster a sense of ease.

The train's speed decreased once more.

At this juncture, its velocity was likely less than a fifth of its maximum capacity.

The door to the carriage slid open, and the same attendant who had served them earlier entered, her professional demeanor unwavering. She maintained her composure admirably despite the tremors beneath her feet.

"Esteemed passengers," she announced, her voice carrying clearly to the few remaining individuals in the car, "the snowstorm through which we are currently traversing has proven more formidable than initially anticipated. We are proceeding at the optimal speed to ensure the utmost safety of all passengers while maintaining our scheduled route. We extend our apologies for any inconvenience this may cause. Should you require any assistance, please do not hesitate to contact a member of our staff."

Selara, who had evidently returned from the dining area at some point and was now occupying a seat as if she held proprietorship over the entire train, raised her head.

"Will this result in a delay?"

"Regrettably, yes, Director Selara." The attendant inclined her head slightly. "Current projections indicate that we will clear the snowstorm within the next eight to ten hours."

Selara's expression shifted subtly, though not one of marked concern.

"Thank you for this update."

The attendant offered a polite bow before departing the car.

The carriage was now largely unoccupied.

Selara soon followed, exiting the car once more, likely heading back towards the dining area or perhaps to engage with some unfortunate staff member. The majority of the other students were dispersed throughout the train, engaged in various activities such as walking, resting, dining, or exploring the designated accessible areas.

Trafalgar and Cynthia found themselves alone within the confines of the wagon.

"Well," Trafalgar began, his gaze drifting towards the stark white wall visible through the window, "I suppose a peaceful night's sleep on the train awaits us."

Cynthia offered no immediate reply.

He turned his attention to her more fully.

She appeared uneasy.

This was not the usual wariness she displayed in unfamiliar surroundings. Her hands were clenched tightly on her knees, and though the curtain by the window remained open, she had ceased looking outside. Trafalgar had witnessed her travel on the academy train numerous times before, and the journey between Velkaris and the academy had never previously unsettled her. She always navigated it with ease.

Therefore, the train itself was not the source of her distress.

"Are you quite alright?" he inquired.

Cynthia met his gaze, and for this moment, she made no significant effort to conceal her feelings.

"Not entirely," she admitted. "I am afraid."

Trafalgar shifted his position slightly, moving closer to her.

"Is it the train's motion?"

She responded with a shake of her head.

"No. It's the storm. Storms fill me with dread."

Trafalgar glanced towards the window before reaching over to draw the curtain closed.

"You could have closed this yourself if it caused you distress."

Cynthia continued to stare at the closed curtain, as if its existence had entirely slipped her mind.

Perhaps it had.

Even with the window obscured, the tension in her shoulders barely lessened. The train continued to vibrate with the force of the storm, and the wind hammered against it with such intensity that its sounds permeated faintly through the carriage walls.

Trafalgar closed the book he had been reading and set it down beside him.

He then stood, moved from his original seat, and sat down directly beside her.

He remained silent.

His action alone was the intended gesture.

Cynthia was clearly taken aback. She remained stiff for a brief moment, as if contemplating feigning indifference to his offer of comfort. However, another tremor from the train, slightly more forceful than the last, caused her to lean her head against his shoulder.

Her voice grew softer thereafter.

"Do you recall when I mentioned my mother wielded a bow, and that was the reason I chose to use one as well?"

Trafalgar kept his gaze fixed forward, holding perfectly still to avoid causing her any discomfort.

"Yes. I also recall offering an apology for touching upon a sensitive subject."

Cynthia's fingers tightened infinitesimally on the fabric of her skirt.

"Yes. And I assured you it was acceptable." She inhaled deeply, more slowly this time, even as the storm raged around them outside the train like a sentient entity. "It's connected to why I feel this fear now."