Honkai Star Rail: Summoning the Chrysos Heirs — Chapter 15

Chapter 15: “Thunder” An Ning

“Whew… I… I made it just in time.”

The young girl braced her hands against her knees, her chest heaving violently as she gasped for air. Sweat cut tracks down her pale cheeks, dripping onto concrete that still radiated a blistering, unnatural heat. The air hung thick and heavy, choking the lungs with the sharp, metallic tang of ozone and the sickening stench of roasted flesh.

Cyrene stood a few paces back, her azure, diamond-shaped pupils shifting subtly. Although she hadn’t witnessed the actual lightning strike, the smoking, blackened husk of the monster twitching on the pavement spoke volumes about the sheer, staggering destructive force that had just been unleashed.

Yet, the creature wasn’t dead. The radar in Cyrene’s mind still pulsed with a stubborn red dot.

“Um… excuse me, are you alright?”

Cyrene blinked, instantly burying her analytical gaze beneath a wide-eyed, cautious veneer. She took a tiny, hesitant step forward, pitching her voice into a perfect register of frightened concern.

“I… I’m fine.”

Hearing the voice, the girl sucked in a sharp breath, her spine snapping straight in a stubborn display of resilience. She scrubbed the sweat from her forehead with the back of her wrist, desperately trying to uphold the dignified aura of the Special Anomaly Bureau’s “Thunder.”

But her overtaxed body betrayed her. Her slender legs trembled uncontrollably, and her complexion had drained to a sickly, translucent white.

“Lady Thunder!”

The undercover agent—still wearing the grease-stained clothes of a pancake stall owner—finally snapped out of his daze. He shoved his pistol back into its holster and closed the distance in three long strides, reaching out to support the swaying girl. His weathered face tightened with guilt and self-reproach.

“Are you alright? Is it an Ability overdraw?”

He looked at the young woman, barely in her early twenties, who should have been spending her days peacefully at a university instead of hunting Abominations in the dirt. A flash of deep heartache crossed the older man’s eyes.

“I said I’m fine! Uncle Wang, don’t make a fuss!”

An Ning flinched away from his outstretched hand, her brows knitting together. Her tone was rigid, less out of genuine anger and more from a desperate need to project strength.

“I’m just… just a little drained right now! Give me two minutes and I’ll be perfectly fine!” she ground out through clenched teeth, treating the mere concept of weakness as a fatal blow to her pride.

She raised a shaking finger, jabbing it toward the charred lump of meat that was slowly beginning to writhe on the asphalt.

“Get this thing out of here! Fine, I couldn’t kill it outright, but why couldn’t your team even keep it contained?!”

“Yes! I’ll contact transport immediately!”

Uncle Wang nodded heavily. He cast a complicated, pained look at the stubborn girl before turning away, pulling out his encrypted phone to call for cleanup.

Heavy boots pounded against the pavement. Chen Lang, clad in full tactical gear and gripping a still-smoking stun rifle, burst through the factory gates. The moment his eyes landed on the smoking monster and the swaying figure of An Ning, the rigid tension in his shoulders collapsed.

He exhaled a long, ragged breath, then marched forward, snapping a crisp, serious salute.

“Lady Thunder. My apologies. It was our negligence in containment that allowed the Revenant to break loose. We’ve troubled you to take action again.”

“Enough, enough. Save the hollow self-criticisms. I know the general situation; it wasn’t your fault.”

An Ning waved him off irritably. Her gaze then drifted toward Cyrene, who was standing off to the side, playing the role of a lost, terrified civilian to perfection.

An Ning sighed, forcing her exhausted body to rally. She turned around, adjusted her messy collar, and smoothed her expression into a mask of stern professionalism. Digging into her pocket, she produced a black leather wallet and flipped it open with a crisp snap.

An exquisite metal badge gleamed in the sunlight. A silver sword rested against a shield, bound by golden chains that reflected a cold, authoritative luster. She extended her right hand toward Cyrene.

“Hello. I am from the Special Anomaly Bureau’s operations team. Code-name ‘Thunder,’ real name An Ning. This is my identification.”

Cyrene let out a soft, perfectly timed gasp. She stared blankly at the badge, then shifted her wide eyes to the charred flesh nearby, acting as though her brain was still short-circuiting from the shock. After a two-second delay, she seemed to wake from a dream, looking timidly at the young woman before her.

“H-hello… my name is Cyrene.”

She didn’t take the offered hand right away. Her gaze dropped to An Ning’s extended palm. Faint, angry red marks spiderwebbed across the skin—the unmistakable burn scars of an electrical overload.

Only after verifying there were no residual blue arcs dancing across An Ning’s fingertips did Cyrene hesitantly reach out, offering a light, nervous squeeze.

The moment their skin met, Cyrene felt a slick, clammy heat. Cold sweat.

Cyrene had read enough web novels in her past life to understand the concept of Ability overdraw. This “Lady Thunder” was completely running on fumes.

An Ning withdrew her hand quickly after the brief contact.

“Ms. Cyrene, as you can see,” she began, turning slightly to gesture at the faintly twitching monster. Her tone shifted into a practiced, bureaucratic cadence. “This kind of creature… defies common sense. Its very existence poses a massive threat to ordinary people.”

She paused, her dark eyes locking intently onto Cyrene’s, as if trying to dissect the beautiful girl’s inner thoughts.

“For your own safety, and to prevent any unnecessary public panic, I hope you can come with us. We need you to visit the bureau to provide a statement and sign some non-disclosure agreements. I expect your full cooperation.”

Cyrene bit her lower lip, letting a deeply conflicted expression wash over her delicate features.

‘Go with the authorities?’

That was undoubtedly placing herself straight under a microscope. One slip of the tongue, one wrong move, and her identity would be blown wide open.

But if she refused now…

She cast a subtle glance at Uncle Wang, still barking orders into his phone, and then at Chen Lang, whose rifle was lowered but whose posture remained coiled and vigilant. Running away now would instantly skyrocket their suspicion. They might even classify her as an accomplice to the monster.

, since she had already stepped onto this stage, she had to play the role of the innocent bystander until the curtain fell.

Cyrene’s mind raced, calculating the variables. Phainon hadn’t been exposed. Her strongest summon was still lurking safely in the shadows. As long as she stuck to her script—a poor girl who just happened to be passing by—the Bureau would run a standard background check, hand her a pen, and send her on her way.

Besides…

Cyrene’s peripheral vision flicked toward the deep, suffocating shadows of the alleyway behind her.

If things truly went south and she found herself cornered, having Phainon on the outside ready to back her up was the ultimate insurance policy. Even if that was the absolute worst-case scenario she wanted to avoid.

“…Alright,” Cyrene murmured after a suitable display of careful consideration. She offered a gentle, hesitant nod, her voice soft and laced with a perfectly calibrated hint of helplessness. “Since it’s for safety… I’ll cooperate.”

“Thank you for your understanding.”

Hearing the compliance, the rigid lines of An Ning’s face finally softened, and her pale lips curved into a weary, genuine smile. She snapped her badge shut and tucked it back into her pocket.

“Follow me.”

An Ning turned on her heel, marching toward a heavy, black special services vehicle parked by the curb. Cyrene trailed obediently behind her, matching the steps of a well-behaved schoolchild.

The heavy armored door was pulled open, releasing a blast of frigid, air-conditioned air. An Ning motioned for Cyrene to slide into the back seat before climbing in herself. The moment the door clicked shut, the Bureau operative slumped heavily against the leather backrest with a long, comfortable sigh of relief.

The engine roared to life. Thick tires gripped the asphalt, and the tactical vehicle swiftly accelerated, leaving the devastated battleground behind.

The street fell back into a deathly, suffocating silence. Only the abandoned, blackened husk of the monster remained, its charred flesh slowly splitting open as fresh, grotesque pink buds sprouted under the afternoon sun.

A few seconds later.

In the dense shadows cast by the alleyway, right where the vehicle had been parked, the air suddenly rippled and distorted. A heavy black boot stepped silently onto the scorched concrete.

Phainon emerged from the darkness.

He didn’t spare a single glance for the regenerating abomination writhing on the ground. His striking, golden eyes remained locked onto the receding taillights of the tactical vehicle.

Without a single wasted motion, the muscles in his legs coiled and snapped with explosive force. His towering figure vanished from the spot, tearing down the street in absolute silence, tracking his target like an incorporeal ghost.