English
Indonesia
Chinese (Simp)
Japanese
Korean
Spanish
Portuguese
French
German
ArabicHonkai Star Rail: Saving the World with a Mobile Game — Chapter 1
Chapter 1: End, Beginning
The world existed only as a suffocating stretch of pitch black.
Ash forced his eyelids apart, greeted by a bleary, fractured sliver of light that slowly bled into his vision. ‘Wait… is this still Amphoreus?’
His mind spun, struggling to anchor itself. Where exactly had the system dumped him this time? The memory of tearing the Iron Tomb apart piece by piece still burned in his muscles. He had won. He definitely shouldn’t be dead yet.
Through the heavy fog of his dizziness, fragmented voices drifted into his ears, overlapping in hushed urgency.
“He’s awake?”
“Wait, I think His Lordship is awake.”
“Quick, quick! Ash is awake!”
Ash drew in a long, ragged breath, letting the oxygen steady his racing pulse until his vision finally cleared. The hazy shapes above him sharpened into the familiar stone arches of the ceiling. Hovering just above him were Cipher’s striking sapphire eyes, blinking down with quiet intensity.
Ash shifted his gaze, taking in his surroundings. A gentle, iridescent glow washed over his right side, sinking into his skin and knitting away the lingering aches of battle. The soothing warmth was unmistakable. It was Hyacine.
Beyond the healing light, a tight circle of figures crowded the edge of the bed. Castorice, Hysilens, Tribbie… or rather, he reminded himself, she ought to be called Tribios now. Standing slightly apart from the women was Teacher Anaxagoras, his arms firmly crossed over his chest, watching the scene unfold with a highly peculiar, almost scrutinizing expression.
Testing his limbs, Ash found his muscles responsive. He planted his palms against the mattress and pushed himself upright.
Before he could even shake the residual sleep from his head, a blur of purple silk and dark hair lunged toward him. Castorice moved with desperate anxiety, her hands reaching out to catch him. Yet, just as her fingertips brushed the air near his arm, she flinched. She snatched her hands back against her chest, her eyes wide with the ingrained terror of hurting him.
“Your Lordship, you are awake?” Her voice trembled, thick with restrained emotion. “How is your body? Does it hurt anywhere?”
Ash studied the purple-haired girl. He took a quick internal inventory, confirming that aside from some lingering exhaustion, his body was perfectly intact. He let out a quiet breath of relief. Reaching forward, he caught Castorice’s retreating wrist and pulled her closer.
“Your Lordship…” she gasped, trying to pull away.
“I feel fine. See for yourself.” Ash released her wrist and casually rolled his shoulders, stretching his arms to prove his mobility.
Seeing him move so freely, the tight knot of worry on Castorice’s face finally began to loosen. But the reality of their physical contact caught up to her. Her immediate instinct was to retreat. The Demigod Authority she bore was an absolute curse; her touch was meant to devour all life. No matter how deeply she cared for him, she had spent her life keeping a rigid distance from the living.
Yet, as she stared at his skin, her breath hitched. The twisted, necrotic purple patterns that usually spread from her touch were entirely absent.
Ash caught her bewildered stare and smiled faintly. The gamble had paid off.
“It seems the negative effects attached to your Demigod Authority vanished when the Iron Tomb fell,” he said, his tone laced with quiet satisfaction.
Castorice stared at his unblemished skin, her mind struggling to process the miracle. Her arm, previously locked in hesitation, drifted forward an inch. Finding no dark magic rising to meet her, she jerked her head up to look at him.
Ash simply opened his arms, offering a silent invitation.
Castorice’s lips parted. A mix of utter bewilderment and fragile hope fractured her usually stoic expression. Her shoulders trembled uncontrollably.
“It is alright now,” Ash murmured, turning his palms up. “Look. No signs of erosion at all. Come here. I owe you a hug.”
She did not hesitate a second longer. The purple-haired girl threw herself forward, burying her face into his chest as her arms locked tightly around his waist.
The scent of the living. The heat of a beating heart. It was a sensation she had been denied for an eternity.
“Your Lordship…” she choked out, her voice muffled against his shirt.
Ash rested his chin near her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her trembling frame. He could feel the soft, desperate rise and fall of her breathing. He held her there in the quiet warmth, letting her anchor herself to the reality that she was finally free.
Eventually, Ash peered over Castorice’s shoulder, his gaze sweeping the room to take in the rest of the Chrysos Heirs. The aftermath of the battle had left its mark on all of them, bringing deep changes. His eyes settled on the striking red-haired figure standing near the foot of the bed. Calling her a ‘girl’ no longer felt quite right, given the elegant maturity radiating from her, even if her features remained largely the same.
“Teacher Tribios,” Ash said, his voice carrying a dry amusement. “I suppose I can call you that now? But your condition…”
Singled out, Tribios maintained her effortless grace. She reached up, elegantly tucking a stray crimson lock behind her ear. “This? Ever since I awoke, I found the prophecy has completely lost its hold over me.” She tilted her head, her ruby eyes gleaming with a teasing light. “Of course, if you find this form too intimidating, Ash, you are more than welcome to still call me Tribbie, Ti An, or Teacher Ti Ning.”
A warm, knowing smile curved her lips.
Hearing that familiar, affectionate nickname coming from this newly mature, statuesque woman sent a brief wave of awkwardness through him, but seeing her fully restored eclipsed any minor embarrassment.
“It is fine,” Ash replied smoothly, leaning back slightly. “You look beautiful like this. Complete.”
Tribios blinked, her elegant composure freezing for a fraction of a second. A faint dusting of pink touched her cheeks. She clearly had not expected him to be so effortlessly smooth.
Before he could dwell on it, a shadow fell over his left side. Hysilens glided toward the bed, a crystal goblet resting delicately in her hands. She took a seat on the edge of the mattress, the faint scent of sea salt following her.
“You are finally awake, Little Ash Fish,” she murmured. Her voice was incredibly soothing, carrying the calm, fathomless depth of the ocean. “You have been asleep for almost three days. Here, I prepared some water for you.”
Ash’s throat was parched, feeling like sandpaper against his tongue. He shifted, preparing to reach for the glass, but Hysilens smoothly bypassed his hands and pressed the cool crystal directly against his lips.
He had no choice but to part his lips and drink, the crisp water soothing his dry throat.
“Do not move just yet,” Hysilens instructed softly, tilting the glass to match his pace. “Let me feed you. We must be absolutely certain your body has not sustained hidden damage.”
Trapped by their overwhelming care, Ash could only surrender. He sat pinned against the pillows, half-embraced by a clinging Castorice on his right, while Hysilens carefully watered him on his left. Just beyond them, Hyacine continued to channel her Sky Miracle, bathing the entire ridiculous scene in a continuous wave of restorative warmth.
Standing near the doorway, Anaxagoras watched the display of absolute coddling with an expression of deep suffering. He stared at the ceiling as if praying to the Aeons for patience, then dragged a heavy hand down his face.
“Damn it, this is unbearable,” the older man muttered, his voice dripping with exasperation. “I never should have come in here.”
Without another word, Anaxagoras turned on his heel and marched out of the room, refusing to look back at the chaotic domesticity.
The door had barely clicked shut when a sharp buzzing erupted near Ash’s ear. A streak of brilliant pink light shot out from his side, materializing in mid-air.
“Hey, hey, hey!”
A tiny figure hovered before his face, hands planted firmly on her hips. She sported long, drooping fairy ears, starry diamond-shaped eyes, and a massive, fluffy pink tail that swished in pure agitation.
“Partner, what exactly do you think you are doing?” Mem demanded, puffing out her rosy cheeks. “You just woke up and you are already shamelessly flirting with the Chrysos Heirs?”
She zipped closer, waving a tiny hand in front of his nose. “Partner, can you hear me? Earth to Ash! One, two, three?”
The sudden noise broke the spell in the room. Hysilens blinked, gracefully pulling the goblet away from Ash’s mouth. Castorice, suddenly realizing she had been clinging to him like a limpet for several minutes, flushed a deep, vibrant crimson. She practically scrambled off the bed, hastily smoothing down her purple skirts. She quickly assumed the rigid, attentive posture of a loyal maid standing guard, staring straight ahead as if the emotional embrace had never happened.
Ash finally found his voice. “Huh? Mem? Cyrene?” He studied the floating fairy. “You changed back again? Did you burn through all your memory power during the fight?”
A flicker of genuine concern crossed his face, but the Memokeeper merely giggled, her tiny form straightening up with immense pride.
“Hehe, I am perfectly fine!” Mem declared, doing a little twirl in the air. “Actually, it seems I can freely control my size now. Do not believe me? Watch this.”
With a sharp, melodic pop, the tiny fairy vanished. In the blink of an eye, a vivacious pink-haired girl materialized right beside the bed. She was petite but undeniably human-sized, dressed in an elegant ceremonial robe secured with flowing ribbons. Half-open sandals adorned her feet, and those striking, diamond-shaped eyes sparkled with pure mischief as she leaned in close to Ash.
“How about it, partner?” Mem teased, her lips curling into a wicked, triumphant grin. “I have transformed back into a stunning beauty just for you. So, what should it be? ‘Just like our first meeting’or’long time no see’?”
She winked, her voice dropping into a melodic, teasing lilt. “I wonder… did you miss me while you were dreaming?”