Carrying the crate was impossible. So Pipsi did what any resourceful Bangboo would do: it popped the cap on one bottle using a stray bolt.
His eyes shot wide. “That’s… that’s not just citrus. That’s the smell of a brand new trading card pack. How?” zzz pipsi
Pipsi wiggled its broken antenna. “Pip… Pipsi.” Carrying the crate was impossible
“Pipsi…” it whispered to itself, awestruck. awestruck. Its owner
Its owner, a perpetually exhausted Proxy named , worked out of a cramped noodle shop in Lumina Square. Kaelen had a secret talent. He could recreate any food from before the Hollows—if he could taste it. And Pipsi was his tongue.
A sealed, pressurized crate, the yellow paint barely faded. The label read: