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ArabicHonkai Star Rail: My Chat Group is Full of Broken Timelines — Chapter 40
Chapter 41: Guinevere
When Lancelot awoke, a dull, throbbing pain at the base of his neck surged through him like a tide. It was a deep, sore ache that radiated outwards, making him feel as if his very bones were on the verge of cracking apart.
He struggled to peel his eyes open, his chaotic consciousness still clinging to the last thing he remembered: the sharp, swift chop of a hand. The force had been both fast and heavy, like being struck with a red-hot branding iron, and it had sent him collapsing to the deck without so much as a sound.
“Where’s Gawain? Was he caught?” He propped himself up on the cold metal floor, hissing at the contact, and looked around.
He was in a room no more than ten square meters. The walls were made of a cold-glowing alloy, a simple bunk bed was shoved into one corner, and the air was thick with the faint, sterile scent of disinfectant. It felt less like a cabin and more like a cell in some high-tech interstellar prison.
“Lancelot… you’re awake?” A muffled voice, thick with a heavy nasal tone, sounded from his side.
Lancelot turned his head. Gawain was squatting beside the lower bunk, his normally bright blonde hair now a messy tangle stuck to his forehead. His face was a canvas of purple and blue bruises, and a fresh split at the corner of his mouth made him look like a crumpled, discarded punching bag.
“Gawain, you were caught as well. Just as I thought…” Lancelot sighed, leaning his head back against the bed frame and closing his eyes in defeat. He finally understood the hard, unyielding surface he’d been lying on—he’d been unceremoniously shoved under the bed.
“Hey, Lancelot, don’t be like that. The environment here is actually pretty nice,” Gawain said, grinning with a nonchalance that bordered on insanity. He tapped the alloy wall with his knuckles, producing a dull thud. “It’s way sturdier than our crappy old starship. As expected of a Xianzhou vessel!”
“What’s the use of a good environment?” Lancelot’s voice was a bitter, despairing rasp. “We’re pirates, Gawain. Pirates who tried to rob a merchant caravan. We should be thanking the heavens if they grant us a decent way to die… By the way, where are Guinevere and the others?”
His heart seized. His younger siblings were his greatest worry. When Planet Camelot was burned to scorched earth by the Antimatter Legion, they were all he had left. If they had been captured too… The thought was a physical weight, squeezing the air from his lungs.
“Big brother…”
A voice, thick with unshed tears, pierced the sterile air from across the hall. It was like a needle to Lancelot’s ear. His eyes snapped open, and he scrambled to the door of the cell, his hands gripping the cold bars so tightly his knuckles turned white.
In the cell directly opposite his, a girl with vibrant orange-red hair clutched the bars, her gaze locked on him. Her eyes were red and swollen, fresh tear tracks still glistening on her cheeks.
“Guinevere…” Lancelot’s voice choked, and his vision instantly blurred. “I’m sorry… It’s my fault. I’m a useless big brother… I let you all get caught.”
He had thought his plan was sound. He’d arranged for the children to wait on the backup starship, hidden away. As long as he and Gawain created a big enough diversion and escaped with the supplies, they would be safe. Who could have known they would fail so completely?
“Big brother, how can we blame you?” Guinevere sniffled, trying to force a smile that crumpled at the edges. “We all agreed to hijack this ship… Besides, we were prepared to be caught a long time ago, weren’t we?” Even as she said it, her voice trembled violently.
Seeing Lancelot’s tears of regret, Guinevere wanted to comfort him, but what could she say? They had been caught. Even she, the eternal optimist of their group, couldn’t find a single reason for her brother to feel better.
“I say, stop your sniveling over there.” Gawain had been watching from the side, and his patience finally ran out. “So what if we were caught? What’s the big deal?”
Lancelot turned and glared at him, his eyes filled with a deep exhaustion. “Gawain, if only you could be as foolish as you look, maybe things would be easier.”
He probably still thought being captured as an interstellar pirate was no different from being grounded by his parents for misbehaving as a child.
“What do you mean I’m foolish!” Gawain shot to his feet, indignant, and jabbed a thumb at his own bruised face. “You guys are overthinking it! You were knocked unconscious, so you didn’t see. I was brought in here wide awake!”
He paused, scratching his head as he began to recall the events. “That day, after I ran out of the cargo hold, I got twisted around in some complicated part of the ship. It didn’t take long for me to get completely lost.”
“While I was just staring at all the pipes, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around, and there he was—the same young man who knocked you out, still holding that formation blade crackling with lightning.”
Gawain smacked his lips, a flicker of fear crossing his face. “At the time, I thought he’d already hacked you to pieces. I figured, we’re brothers, right? I couldn’t let you die for nothing. So, I charged in, ready to fight to the death.”
And the result? Lancelot didn’t need to ask. On what was left of Planet Camelot, Gawain’s strength was considered top-tier. But in front of a truly powerful individual, that kind of brute force was nothing.
“Don’t even get me started,” Gawain muttered, sheepishly touching his swollen cheek. “The second I raised my greatsword, he kicked it right out of my hands. I wanted to try and match his strength, but he just grabbed my arm and twisted. The pain almost made me cry out. In less than thirty seconds, I was pinned to the floor, and he beat me until I looked like this.”
Lancelot frowned as he listened, but a faint, strange sense of relief settled in his chest. At least Gawain was still alive.
“But,” Gawain’s expression suddenly brightened, and he let out a short laugh. “After he was done beating me, he didn’t kill me.”
“Before he handed me over to those soldiers in the fancy armor, he even patted my shoulder. He said, ‘Don’t worry, no one in our fleet was injured. Considering your situation, there’s a high probability you won’t be executed. The Xianzhou is very fair.'”
Lancelot’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?!”
“I thought he told you guys too!” Gawain flinched at the sudden shout, shrinking his neck awkwardly. “How was I supposed to know you’d wake up looking like the world was ending? I just didn’t get a chance to say it.”
Lancelot stared at him for a long, silent moment, then suddenly covered his face with his hands. His shoulders began to tremble.
He couldn’t tell if he was crying or laughing. Ever since escaping the ruins of Planet Camelot, he had seen too much of the galaxy’s brutal, unforgiving law of the jungle. He had long since stopped believing in concepts like “fairness.” But now, in the sterile confines of this cell, a fragile sliver of hope inexplicably began to bloom in his heart.
Before long, the alloy door to their cell slid open with a smooth hiss. Two soldiers clad in the distinctive armor of the Cloud Knights stepped inside, their voices booming with authority. “Lancelot, Gawain. Come out.”
The two men exchanged a look before following the soldiers into the corridor. A crowd of people stood there, their faces a mixture of fear and confusion—all of them were survivors from Planet Camelot. Guinevere was among them. Her eyes lit up when she saw Lancelot, and she took an instinctive step forward, only to be gently but firmly stopped by a soldier.
“Don’t worry,” Lancelot said, offering her a small smile. “It’s okay.”
Though the tear stains on his face had yet to dry, his gaze was now steady, forged with a newfound determination.