Honkai Star Rail: Saving the World with a Mobile Game — Chapter 22

Chapter 22: See You Tomorrow, Agy

Tribios leaned in closer, the ambient light casting long, heavy shadows across the room.

Her hand hovered in mid-air, trembling with a deep hesitation. She desperately wanted to reach out, to pull Aglaea into a comforting embrace, or perhaps just snatch the glowing stone tablet right out of her grasp to force her to stop reading the cruel words etched across the screen. But her thoughts were a tangled mess. Overwhelmed by the sheer weight of the situation, her movements froze entirely for a long, agonizing moment.

“Um, Agy…” Tribios murmured, her voice tight with concern. “How about we stop looking?”

“Anyway, it is all in the past. Besides, it is not just me. Everyone… everyone is well aware of your contributions over the millennia, and even every millennium before that.”

After her words fell into the quiet room, the red-haired girl wanted to say more, but the sentences piled up and stuck in her throat. It was not that she lacked the courage to speak. It was simply that no language in existence could adequately express the crushing weight of those endless millennia.

After waiting silently for two seconds, Aglaea turned her gaze away from the tablet. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched the corners of her lips as she gently shook her head at Tribios.

“It is alright, My Teacher.”

“I am not a child anymore. How could I allow myself to feel anger or sorrow over a little criticism and debate?”

“Agy…”

Indeed, she was not wrong. This situation was certainly not her first experience with public vitriol, nor would it be her last. In over thirty million cycles of reincarnation, standing as the leader of the Fire-Chasing vanguard, she had faced defamation and insults time and time again. The venom came from the citizens of Okhema, from bitter enemies, and sometimes even from the Chrysos Heirs themselves.

Yet, through every cycle, she still stood at the absolute forefront of the vanguard, leading the Chrysos Heirs forward with a resolute, unflinching determination to burn everything to ashes for the sake of their future. What did a few harsh words mean to her now, compared to the oceans of blood and ash she had waded through before?

However, at this very moment, Tribios understood something fundamental. The person standing before her was no longer just the hardened leader of the Chrysos Heirs. The grueling journey of chasing the fire had ended. Stripped of her heavy mantle, she was merely a girl—a clear-eyed girl who could cry, who could laugh, and who should not have to bear this infamy all by herself.

“I know, Agy. You have always stood selflessly before us.” Tribios’s expression shifted, revealing a stubborn glint in her eyes. “But sometimes… please also believe that we are all standing right here with you!”

Aglaea’s pupils widened slightly at the sudden fierce loyalty in her teacher’s voice.

“If Agy feels sad, I think we can change it, right?” Tribios smiled gently, her tone softening. “Perhaps, we can show the players more of your gentle side.”

She glanced meaningfully toward Ash’s room. The heavy wooden door was left slightly ajar, as if intentionally waiting for someone to step through. Tribios’s lips curved upwards in a silent, knowing smile.

A moment later, Aglaea set the stone tablet down on the table. She exhaled a quiet breath, smiling with genuine relief. “There is no need for that, My Teacher.”

“Actually, I think the version of me portrayed in the game is a true representation of myself.”

She paused, her gaze drifting toward the hallway. “If I had to name anything I felt sad about, or anything I truly regretted… it would be that I still owe him an apology.”

Following Tribios’s gaze, Aglaea looked toward the ajar door.

With a soft, metallic click, the door was quietly pushed open.

Ash, who had been quietly observing the system interface, heard the movement and glanced over his shoulder. The golden-haired Weaver came into view, stepping into the warm light of his room. She was dressed in a magnificent golden-white gown carefully carved with golden leaf patterns. Elegant and luxurious, she looked as exquisite as a marble sculpture, her divine aesthetic sense entirely worthy of Okhema’s Tailor.

Aglaea had arrived.

Looking at her hesitant posture, Ash figured she probably wanted to discuss her character’s plotline. In truth, after the grand climax of their previous struggles had ended, everything that needed to be said had already been spoken, and everyone who needed to be seen had been visited.

If there was one single thread left hanging, one lingering regret in Aglaea’s heart, it was this missing apology.

It traced all the way back to the day the young man before her first descended upon Amphoreus. She knew perfectly well that interrogating him and treating him with such cold suspicion would breed resentment and hatred. But using that harsh opportunity to push Phainon and Castorice closer to him, forging a bond that would ultimately save Amphoreus, was a price she was more than willing to pay.

As for her own feelings?

Tribbie had once asked her if she regretted making herself the villain. Her answer remained as steadfast as ever: she was already a dying person. If bearing the hatred of others could save Amphoreus, if her solitary sacrifice was the only fuel needed to ignite the dawn for everyone else, then why not burn?

Perhaps she had considered apologizing for her ruthless interrogation tactics back then, or perhaps she had buried the thought beneath her duties. None of it mattered in the old timeline. Because in that doomed cycle, tomorrow never came. Death arrived faster than the sunrise, and the absolute doomsday of Amphoreus was imminent. Time did not grant this selfless demigod even a single trace of pity.

Just like the high platform on that fateful day.

‘You shall bathe in the warm, dazzling gold one last time…’

Ash shrugged off the heavy memories and smiled casually at her. “Agy is here? Could it be that you are dissatisfied with the plot?”

Tribios lingered quietly in the hallway behind her, watching as Aglaea shook her head. “Rather than dissatisfied, I would say it is incredibly vivid.”

“It just reminds me that regarding what happened back then, I still harbor a small regret.”

Her voice was soft and pure, carrying the same quiet grace as her romantic virtue.

“I want to say I am sorry.”

Time seemed to freeze for a fraction of a second. Mem was still sleeping sweetly on Ash’s lap, her small chest rising and falling in the absolute silence of the room.

Just like the Weaver she was, Aglaea did not offer a convoluted explanation for her actions, nor did she beg for forgiveness. It was simply the purest, most straightforward apology, delivered with a frank, open smile. She just wanted to put a peaceful period at the end of her own tragic story.

Ash stared at her. He, of course, knew the truth better than anyone.

She was the most selfless demigod of Amphoreus. Although the exact circumstances at the time were slightly different, Ash had intentionally imitated Phainon’s actions, revealing a tiny secret of Amphoreus’s second playthrough just to end Aglaea’s interrogation early. But to maintain the integrity of the original timeline and avoid triggering a massive butterfly effect, he had not altered the core events of the plot. From an outsider’s perspective, her actions could still easily be considered betrayal and deep distrust.

It was also an obvious fact that Aglaea had never once tried to defend herself in that previous lifetime. She simply took the blame and walked toward her death.

But no matter what happened in the past, the cycle was broken. It was all over.

“I see.” Ash nodded knowingly, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders as his expression relaxed. “If this is about the interrogation…”

“Actually, I never truly resented you.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence. Gentle morning sunlight streamed through the window, cascading over Ash’s shoulder and illuminating the dancing dust motes in the air like a brilliant Tyndall effect.

The two of them simply looked at each other.

Just as she felt no need to over-explain why she had to apologize, he felt no need to explain why he had never held onto any anger. The two of them seemed to have reached a quiet, unspoken reconciliation, a mutual understanding forged in the fires of a ruined world.

The scattered sunlight washed over them. Outside the door, Cipher had, at some point, pressed her ear flat against the wooden crack, desperately trying to eavesdrop on the juicy details inside. Anaxa was standing not too far away either; he had witnessed Tribios and Aglaea’s hushed discussion earlier. But this time, the usually boisterous man did not interrupt. Instead, his expression carried a rare weight of contemplation and solemn respect.

The quiet atmosphere stretched on for a few moments longer. Seeing that neither of the women was going to break the silence, Ash took the initiative to lighten the mood.

“But, do not be in such a hurry to wrap things up,” he joked, a teasing glint in his eye. “Isn’t this plot just beginning? For the sake of card sales, when Agy finally goes offline in the story, they will definitely make it a massive, tear-jerking event. Haha.”

Offline?

Out in the hallway, Tribios instantly caught the terrifying gamer terminology.

Why would Agy go offline?! Isn’t her backstory miserable enough already?! But then again, considering all the other Fire-Chasing members technically went offline in the lore too, maybe it wasn’t a problem? Tribios’s mind spun in chaotic circles.

Inside the room, Aglaea breathed a soft sigh of relief, a genuinely sweet smile gracing her lips once more.

“Also, I have actually been preparing something for quite a while. I want to give you a special gift.”

Ash blinked, genuinely taken aback. Another special gift?

“This shouldn’t be a trap this time, right?” Ash quipped dryly.

“Heh, of course not. I hope you will come and receive it yourself when the time is right.”

Compared to the heavy, burdened concern of a faction leader, her simple, radiant smile at this moment felt infinitely more sincere.

Alright.

Ash glanced toward the horizon outside his window. The sky was bleeding into vibrant shades of orange and gold. It was dawn—the precise time of the ‘gate’.

Saying goodnight now would be entirely inappropriate.

“Then I will see you tomorrow, Agy.”