Honkai Star Rail: Saving the World with a Mobile Game — Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Oh No, It Really Crashed?

Guinaifen stared at her monitor, her jaw practically resting on her desk.

She had been streaming this game for hours, and the shock value simply refused to wear off.

“Chat, I’m not even kidding right now,” she leaned into her microphone, her eyes tracing the sleek UI of the character screen. “This game actually has some serious weight to it. Since when does a turn-based RPG have combat animations this smooth?”

What truly baffled her was the developer’s sheer generosity. After clearing the tutorial battle and returning to the main menu, she found her inbox glowing with rewards. The game handed out initial Astral Express characters entirely for free, alongside a generous stack of Light Cones and Relics—the in-game equivalent of combat gear.

Guinaifen chewed on her lower lip, genuinely concerned for Ash’s financial well-being. Is the producer going to go bankrupt at this rate?

But that fleeting worry was quickly eclipsed by a surge of excitement. If the Astral Express crew was here, who else might show up? Could she pull familiar faces from the Xianzhou Luofu? Sushang? Huohuo?

Wait… could I pull myself?!

Her fingers hovered over the premium currency tab. For a dangerous second, she felt the overwhelming urge to swipe her card and top up her account.

Then, reality tapped her on the shoulder. Ash had specifically reached out to her for a sharp, critical review. She was supposed to be the discerning beta tester, not a starry-eyed whale.

Focus, Gui. You have to find a flaw.

Since the character designs and combat mechanics were bulletproof, she had to pivot. The plot. That was where indie games always stumbled.

“No, no, no,” Guinaifen shook her head, slapping her cheeks lightly to snap out of her gacha trance. She pointed a finger at her webcam. “This game is alright, family. But don’t start throwing your credits at the screen just yet. We still have to evaluate the storyline. With a setting this massive, we can’t let a little flashy gameplay blind us. If the plot disrespects the Astral Express, I’ll be the first to call it out!”

She reached for her mouse, fully prepared to deliver a scathing critique of the next dialogue sequence.

Instead, the screen faded to black. A cutscene triggered.

A blinding pillar of white light descended from the digital sky. The monstrous minions cornering Stelle and Dan Heng were instantly vaporized, shattering into digital dust.

From the fading light, a silver-haired youth touched down on the pavement. He hoisted a baseball bat over his shoulder, a confident smirk playing on his lips.

“You’re carrying something very interesting.”

Before Stelle could react, the youth blurred into motion. A swift, kinetic dash knocked the remaining enemies aside, and with a flick of his wrist, he easily disarmed her.

Dan Heng’s eyes narrowed. He lunged forward, his spear thrusting toward the newcomer’s blind spot. The silver-haired youth didn’t even look. He swung his bat in a casual, lazy arc. The sickening crack of metal echoed through the speakers as Dan Heng was sent flying, the shaft of his spear snapped cleanly in two.

The youth slowly tilted his head, resting the bat against his neck in a ridiculously cool pose.

Guinaifen’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.

The live chat exploded into a blur of text.

[What the heck! The first local has appeared!]

[Wait, is that who I think it is?!]

[Bro just parried a spear with a baseball bat!]

“She probably won’t wake up.”

Roughly one system hour later, the atmosphere inside the parlor car of the Astral Express was heavy enough to suffocate.

Welt Yang stood by the window, his brow deeply furrowed, his hands resting uneasily against his cane. Beside him, Himeko lightly tapped her chin, her gaze fixed on the floorboards as she processed the situation.

“I didn’t expect that in the brief time it took to pack our supplies, March 7th would fall into this kind of state,” Himeko murmured, her voice laced with quiet concern. “But speaking of which… Welt, do you recall what March showed us right before she went to her room?”

Welt gave a grim nod. It was impossible to forget.

He pulled his phone from his coat pocket and unlocked the screen. The display illuminated the dim carriage, showing the paused interface of Guinaifen’s livestream.

“I remember,” Welt adjusted his glasses, the lenses catching the cold light of the screen. “According to my initial observations, this ‘Honkai: Star Rail’ appeared to be a harmless fan-made game themed around our crew. But looking at the current variables… it is far more than a simple homage.”

The three planets March had blurted out earlier that day—information she had gleamed entirely from scrolling through this very livestream—were entirely accurate. She had meant it as a playful joke, a fake prophecy to tease the crew.

Yet she had guessed their exact coordinates and destinations. And all of this was broadcasted before the actual events transpired.

The implications were chilling.

Someone could have infiltrated the Express and extracted Pom-Pom’s navigational memories. But with Memokeeper Black Swan currently guarding the train, slipping past unnoticed was a functional impossibility. As for Black Swan orchestrating this herself? The idea wasn’t even worth entertaining.

That left only one, truly hair-raising conclusion.

With their departure to Amphoreus imminent, Welt had kept a close eye on the game’s progression. The results were terrifying. The ‘prophetic’ main story of the game was unfolding in reality. March 7th had experienced sudden, unexplained physical distress right before departure—exactly as the game dictated.

Still, as the seasoned veterans of the Express, neither Welt nor Himeko were quick to accept the existence of a game that could flawlessly predict the future. Even the Aeons rarely displayed such absolute, granular foresight.

“Welt, Stelle and Dan Heng have already set off for the surface,” Himeko said, spreading her hands slightly. “What are your thoughts?”

“I’ve dug into the game’s background,” Welt replied, his tone measured and analytical. “It appeared on the network out of thin air. In traditional terms, it operates like an indie title—no corporate backing, no traceable organization. However, in the game’s subsequent plot, the transport train they boarded actually crashed. I believe this broadcast is an act of deliberate provocation.”

He had run through every known faction in his mind, yet no obvious candidate fit the profile.

“Then perhaps it is tied directly to Amphoreus,” Himeko suggested, a sharp edge entering her usually warm voice.

“Indeed. The mastermind is showing their hand. It is highly probable that March’s sudden affliction is their doing.” Welt gripped his cane tighter.

“If this is the work of an Amphoreus local,” Himeko turned toward the window, gazing out at the starfield, “and they believe a parlor trick like this will scare off the Astral Express, they severely underestimate us. I believe in the children. They can handle themselves.”

The pneumatic hiss of the carriage door broke the silence.

Welt and Himeko turned as Sunday stepped into the parlor car. His posture was immaculate, his expression a mask of absolute, chilling calm.

“My apologies for interrupting,” Sunday spoke, his tone completely devoid of inflection. “The transport train crashed. Stelle and Dan Heng have lost contact.”

Himeko froze, the warmth draining from her face.

Welt slowly lowered his phone, staring at Sunday in absolute silence.

Herta Space Station, Station Master’s Office.

Arlan stood at perfect attention beside Asta’s desk, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. He had just finished delivering a careful, minute-by-minute report of his recent patrol.

“Lady Asta, that summarizes the extent of my findings,” Arlan concluded, his brow creased with worry. “Given that this game is rapidly gaining traction among the researchers, should I issue an immediate ban across the station’s network? Considering it involves Madam Herta…”

Just twenty minutes prior, Arlan had been doing his standard rounds near the Special Purpose Lab. He had noticed a senior researcher staring at a monitor, completely paralyzed by shock. Assuming it was a security breach, Arlan had investigated—only to find a game livestream.

What he saw on that screen nearly made him draw his weapon.

Madam Herta was in the game.

Not the jointed, porcelain puppets that wandered the station corridors. The real Herta. The Emanator of Erudition, complete with her signature hat and true physical appearance.

Even among the highest-ranking staff on the Space Station, the true face of their founder was a closely guarded secret. It was classified information of the highest order. Asta herself was one of the few who had seen the real Herta in person, which meant a random indie developer couldn’t have simply guessed her design.

Asta leaned over her desk, holding Arlan’s confiscated phone. She swiped through the livestream VOD, her eyes tracking the animations with intense focus.

Instead of outrage, a rare spark of absolute fascination lit up her face.

“I have to admit… this game actually looks incredibly fun?” Asta muttered, entirely forgetting herself for a second. “Stelle and Dan Heng are perfectly modeled, and they even got Madam Herta’s exact likeness. Could it be that—”

“Lady Asta?” Arlan blinked, completely thrown off by her reaction.

Asta stiffened. She immediately cleared her throat, slapping the phone face-down on the desk and adopting a mask of stern professionalism.

“Ahem. I mean, there is clearly something highly suspicious about this software,” she corrected smoothly. “However, a ban might be premature. If this developer is attempting to threaten Madam Herta by exposing her appearance, we should keep the game accessible and observe it closely. It might provide us with the digital footprint we need to track them down. Don’t you agree?”

Arlan’s posture relaxed, a look of deep realization washing over his face. “Understood! Your logic is flawless, Lady Asta.” He frowned, his protective instincts flaring again. “I simply cannot fathom what this individual is thinking. Using Madam Herta’s true likeness for cheap entertainment… do they have a death wish?”

He paused, glancing toward the office door.

“By the way, Lady Asta… do we need to notify Madam Herta about this?”