"You came, and so you must die."
Stelle blinked. "But I'm a human, not a trash can."
Those words instantly bewildered Lalashiji. He looked her over from every angle, but could not find even a trace of anything a trash can ought to have.
Then he nodded. "You're right. You aren't the savior I expected, so you haven't betrayed my expectations."
"I should be grateful to you. Go. I won't take your life, but that is all."
"Why not join me in resisting Tatalov?" Stelle invited him.
But Lalashiji shook his head. "Tens of thousands of years of imprisonment have worn down my rim. My glory is gone, and I only wish to spend my remaining years as an ordinary trash can."
"Farewell, stranger."
Watching him leave, Stelle inexplicably felt a pang of melancholy. Perhaps she had gone mad too...
After a sigh, she resumed searching for other unusual figures here.
Eventually, Stelle fixed her gaze on three trash cans.
Each of the three had a different color: one bronze, one silver, and one gold.
They were gathered together, forming a three-way stalemate like the three legs of a tripod.
As Stelle approached, the silver can spoke first. "Stranger, there is a dispute here awaiting your fair judgment."
The golden can took over. "This is the legendary Golden Trash, a symbol of power and status."
She produced a golden trash bag that was still glowing and held it high.
"Only the most worthy can may possess it. We all believe we are that can, and so our quarrel never ends."
The bronze can nodded. "Thus, we decided to let a discerning and impartial observer judge on our behalf, determine who should receive the Golden Trash, and put a full stop to our long-standing quarrel."
The silver can was the first