Honkai Star Rail: Summoning the Chrysos Heirs — Chapter 48

Chapter 48: The Second Character Recollection

“I really didn’t expect that hulking mass of flesh to be so… valuable.”

Cyrene stretched out a slender finger, lightly tapping the translucent interface floating in the air before her. Where her fingertip made contact, a string of digits pulsed with a deep, lustrous blue glow.

[Current Memory Trace: 700]

The moment Phainon’s blade had cleaved that grotesque meatball into pieces, a striking [Memory Trace +500] notification had flared across her vision. It was an absolute windfall. For the past two days, she had been tiptoeing through this apocalyptic world, scraping together whatever meager savings she could find. Yet, the spoils from this single, chaotic skirmish had multiplied her reserves several times over.

As for the extra two hundred? That was clearly the result of the indelible psychological trauma Phainon’s devastating strike had inflicted on the spectating Five Elements Squad.

Cyrene turned to look at Phainon, who had already reverted to his usual composed state at her side. A bright, genuine smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

“I was worried we’d have to shelve the Character Recollection plan for a while after that little incident,” she mused, her tone light and playful. “But I didn’t expect happiness to come knocking so soon. The payout from that monster alone is enough to kickstart the next phase.”

She shifted her gaze back to the floating panel, her eyes locking onto the summoning option that had finally illuminated. Her heart gave an involuntary flutter. In this strange, hostile reality, every ounce of combat power was a lifeline. The companions she could pull from Amphoreus were undoubtedly her greatest trump cards.

“Let’s see which companion fate decides to guide to our side today.” Cyrene took a slow, steadying breath to temper her excitement, then pressed the glowing icon.

“System. Consume 500 Memory Traces. Initiate Character Recollection.”

[As you wish.]

The mechanical, emotionless voice faded, and the previously tranquil expanse of the inner starry sky began to violently churn. The surrounding stars, which had hung motionless for what felt like an eternity, were suddenly seized by an invisible gravity, spinning into a wild, dizzying rotation.

Countless streams of iridescent stardust peeled away from the cosmos, dragging long, luminous tails through the void. They looked like thousands of brilliant ribbons converging directly above Cyrene’s head. The nebula surged. A silent, heavy pressure shook the space, slowly tearing open a massive vortex in the center of the astral sea.

Then, a streak of blinding gold erupted from the abyss.

It wasn’t a harsh light, but it carried an overwhelming weight and nobility, flowing like molten gold across the dark canvas. The radiance expanded rapidly, instantly dyeing half the sky, before condensing into a brilliant meteor. It dragged a magnificent, fiery tail in its wake as it plummeted straight toward their platform.

Cyrene tilted her head up, her pupils reflecting the descending golden glow. She subconsciously brought her hands to her chest. ‘Who’s next? I can’t wait.’

Phainon didn’t watch the sky with the same rapt attention. He stood half a step behind her, one hand resting thoughtfully on his chin, his golden eyes flickering with cold, rational calculation.

“Given our current circumstances, pure combat power is certainly valuable,” Phainon noted, his voice steady and insightful. “However, what we truly lack right now is a brain.”

“In this strange world, we need to establish a secure stronghold, analyze the local intelligence, and map out a long-term development strategy. That requires a true leader. Or, at the very least, an exceptional planner.” He paused, his gaze tracking the approaching meteor. “If it were Lady Aglaea, or Teacher Tribbie, our current predicament would be resolved with ease.”

At the mention of his teachers, a rare stiffness overtook Phainon’s usually stoic expression. The corner of his mouth gave a minute twitch as some less-than-pleasant memories surfaced.

“Of course… if it were Teacher Anaxa, that wouldn’t be entirely impossible either.” He shrank his neck slightly, his voice dropping a few decibels as a helpless, wry smile crept onto his face. “But in her case, rather than drafting a survival plan, I suspect she would first drag me by the ear and lecture me for three hours straight about my impulsive combat behavior.”

He had barely finished his sentence when the golden light pierced the final atmospheric barrier, landing gracefully on the open platform before them.

There was no violent cratering impact. No billowing clouds of smoke or dust. The moment the light made contact with the ground, it dissolved into soft, aqueous ripples, washing gently outward across the floor.

“Good evening, Cyrene.”

A gentle, exquisitely elegant voice drifted from the center of the fading light. It possessed a unique, magnetic quality—like silk brushing against bare skin—instantly putting the listener at ease.

“Although we have not formally met many times, I have often heard Phainon speak your name.”

The golden haze dissipated, revealing a slender silhouette. She wore a complex, breathtakingly gorgeous golden dress, its hem swaying with a measured, rhythmic grace as she took a step forward. Her golden hair cascaded effortlessly over her shoulders, and her entire being exuded an unhurried, aristocratic authority.

Cyrene’s eyes widened. “Aglaea?!”

“That is correct. It is me.”

Aglaea came to a halt. Her eyes, which seemed capable of piercing through the very fabric of the world, rested calmly on Cyrene. She offered a slight, impeccably flawless nod, lifting the edges of her skirt into a standard aristocratic curtsy.

“The moment I was summoned, the memories of this world were already imprinted into my mind. I am aware that you are well-versed in my background,” Aglaea said, straightening up. Her gaze was frank, her tone soft yet commanding. “But please, allow me to formally introduce myself.”

“My name is Aglaea. The Tailor of Okhema, and one of the Chrysos Heirs of Amphoreus.” She offered a faint, disarming smile. “May we treat each other with absolute sincerity in this new world.”

Faced with such a dignified greeting, Cyrene hastily smoothed out her own clothes, her expression shifting into one of utmost seriousness. “Hello, Aglaea. I’m Cyrene. Welcome to the team.”

Seeing Cyrene’s rigid posture, Aglaea shook her head lightly, the faint sense of aristocratic distance in her eyes melting away.

“You don’t need to be so reserved, Cyrene.” Aglaea raised a hand, tapping lightly at the empty air as if smoothing out invisible wrinkles in a fabric. “Since we are now allies in the same boat, these tedious formalities are like ill-fitting old clothes. They should be discarded.”

Cyrene blinked. She understood the sentiment, but standing face-to-face with a Chrysos Heir—someone possessing such an overwhelming, natural aura of authority—left her momentarily stumped. It felt exactly like meeting a legendary senior she had only ever admired from afar; there was an obvious intimacy, yet an instinctual, deep-seated awe.

Phainon keenly picked up on the subtle tension. Smiling, he stepped forward to bridge the gap.

“Lady Aglaea. It really is you.” He stopped a respectful distance away, his tone laced with genuine relief. “It seems luck is finally on our side. Our troubles will soon be a thing of the past.”

“Oh? Troubles?” A faint ripple of interest disturbed the calm surface of Aglaea’s eyes. She tilted her head, her gaze shifting to Phainon with a mix of scrutiny and curiosity. “A problem that could trouble a battle-hardened veteran like yourself… do tell.”

Phainon nodded. His expression sobered as he began to lay out the details, holding nothing back. He explained the harsh realities of their current predicament in this apocalyptic world, and the strategic bottlenecks they faced.