Honkai Star Rail: Summoning the Chrysos Heirs — Chapter 51

Chapter 51: Visualization of Memory Traces Required for Character Restoration

Just as Cyrene was halfway through her morning meal, an exaggerated, operatic voice shattered the quiet tranquility of the hospital ward.

“Ohohoho! My sworn ally who once stood by my side at the precipice of the Abyss! The Golden Recorder who etches the end of all things!”

The voice rose and fell with theatrical flair, possessing a deliberately lowered, magnetic quality that seemed to carry its own dramatic echo.

Cyrene’s movement of biting down on her soy milk straw froze mid-air. She blinked, her expression entirely blank, and slowly turned her gaze toward the doorway.

There stood Lin Xiaoya, striking a pose so contorted it bordered on modern art. Half of her face was obscured by an carefully carved black mask, while her right hand was encased in a pitch-black leather glove. Currently, she was clutching her left eye with agonizing intensity, acting as though some unspeakable, world-ending power were barely contained beneath her fingertips.

, she was advancing into the room with a slow, deliberate gait—as if she were strutting down a blood-red carpet—while a deep and mysterious smile played on her lips.

“Tell me, how does it feel to return from the primordial Chaos? Has that parched and withered sea of consciousness transformed once again into a surging ocean of power?”

Facing this sudden onslaught of dense, beyond understanding lore, Cyrene’s brain momentarily short-circuited. She stared blankly at the masked girl for several seconds before letting out a short, utterly confused monosyllable.

How exactly was she supposed to respond to this?

Should she play along and chant a forbidden incantation, or should she politely ask if the girl had wandered onto the wrong television set? Although she had long been baptized by Lin Xiaoya’s endless chuunibyou monologues, this sudden theatrical ambush before breakfast still caught her off guard.

However, before Cyrene could organize her thoughts into a suitable reply, a fair hand reached out from the corridor behind Lin Xiaoya and ruthlessly chopped down onto the top of her head.

Smack!

The crisp, resounding slap echoed through the pristine ward.

Lin Xiaoya, who had been deeply immersed in her “Apostle of Condemnation” persona, broke character instantly. Clutching her skull, with genuine tears welling up in the corners of her eyes, her deep and mysterious aura shattered into pieces. She spun around to glare at her assailant.

“Thunder Tyrant! You dare launch a sneak attack against me?!” Lin Xiaoya hissed, pointing an accusing, gloved finger. “Do not think that just because you wield the authority of thunder and outrank me, you can casually strike a noble apostle such as myself!”

An Ning calmly withdrew her hand. She didn’t even bother to look at Lin Xiaoya’s flailing antics, simply rolling her eyes with the exhausted patience of a seasoned babysitter.

“Lin Xiaoya, can’t you just speak like a normal person for one minute? We are in a hospital!”

After thoroughly scolding her teammate, An Ning turned her attention to Cyrene. The exasperated edge in her expression melted away instantly, replaced by an apologetic smile. She scratched the back of her head, her tone softening considerably.

“Sorry about that, Cyrene. Did she scare you? Xiaoya is… well, she’s a terminal chuunibyou patient, and I can’t always keep her on a leash. As for all that nonsense she was spouting just now… she was basically just asking how your mental power recovery is going.”

Thanks to An Ning’s seamless simultaneous interpretation, Cyrene finally understood the bizarre performance.

She set her soy milk down on the bedside table and offered Lin Xiaoya a gentle, flawless smile, her voice soft and entirely harmless. “Thank you for your concern. My mental power is recovering quite well. There is nothing majorly wrong with me now.”

Hearing Cyrene’s polite answer, Lin Xiaoya immediately forgot the stinging pain on her scalp. She readjusted her non-existent cape, crossed her arms over her chest, and let out a series of long, triumphant laughs toward the ceiling.

“Ohohoho! Excellent! I knew you were not one to fall so easily! I eagerly await the moment we march into battle side by side once more!”

Lin Xiaoya suddenly swung her right hand out, pointing dramatically into the empty void of the hospital room as if a legion of invisible enemies stood before them.

“I, the Apostle of Condemnation, shall bear the burden of branding deep terror into the very souls of our enemies! Meanwhile, you, the Golden Recorder, shall document the trembling, repentant ugliness of those sinners to demonstrate our divine might to the cosmos!”

Having finished her impassioned, world-conquering declaration, Lin Xiaoya tossed her hair back stylishly. Maintaining her crossed-arm pose, she spun on her heel and strode out the door with absolute confidence.

Unfortunately, her cool exit didn’t even last three seconds.

Just as she stepped out of the room, a senior nurse pushing a stainless-steel medicine cart happened to pass by, fixing the girl with a lethal, icy glare.

“Quiet! Which ward are you from? There is absolutely no shouting in the hospital corridors!”

Lin Xiaoya’s wild, villainous laughter came to an abrupt halt, choking off like a duck being strangled by the neck. She shrank in on herself, her overbearing, apocalyptic aura vanishing without a trace, and she scurried away along the baseboards like a frightened mouse.

Holding her soy milk, Cyrene watched the grand “Apostle of Condemnation” flee in absolute panic. For a moment, she genuinely didn’t know what expression to make.

An Ning coughed politely, breaking the lingering, awkward silence. She leaned over the bed and efficiently gathered the leftover breakfast packaging and fruit peels, tossing them into the trash bin.

“Um, Cyrene, there’s actually one more thing I need to tell you,” An Ning said, straightening up as her expression shifted into something far more serious.

“The residential complex where your apartment is located has been completely cordoned off by the Special Bureau. The sheer scale of the commotion from the Abomination attack last night was simply too great. The scene is still undergoing hazardous energy residue cleanup and forensic evidence collection, so you won’t be able to go back home for the time being.”

Cyrene nodded slowly, having fully expected this outcome. After all, that monstrous entity last night had practically torn the structural foundations of the building apart; it would be a miracle if the place was still legally habitable.

“So, just rest here for now,” An Ning instructed gently. “Around noon, I’ll come back to pick you up. I’ll take you over to the training grounds and help arrange some temporary housing for you.”

With that, An Ning picked up the tied trash bag, offered Cyrene a warm wave, and walked out of the ward.

“Goodbye, Sister An Ning~” Cyrene called out sweetly.

As the heavy door clicked shut, absolute silence finally reclaimed the room.

Cyrene leaned back against her soft pillows, her polite facade dropping as her mind began to stir with quiet calculation. With a mere thought, a pale blue holographic screen expanded before her eyes, illuminating the dim space with its cool, ethereal light.

Her gaze immediately locked onto the numerical value displayed in the top right corner: `[Memory Trace: 430]`.

Cyrene nodded to herself, a faint, satisfied smirk curling the corners of her lips. After a full night of passive accumulation, her little treasury had replenished itself quite nicely.

However, as her eyes drifted down to the two primary operational options, her good mood evaporated.

`[Ability Remembrance: 1000 Memory Traces/time]`

“One quadrupled, and the other quintupled…” Cyrene muttered, clutching her chest as a phantom pang of heartache struck her. “This price hike is absolutely ridiculous. It’s nothing short of a shameless profiteer jacking up the market prices the second demand rises.”

She sighed heavily, her slender fingers tracing aimless patterns in the air. At this aggressive rate of inflation, she honestly had no idea how many Memory Traces would be required for future Character Recollections and Ability Remembrances. The cost was scaling exponentially.

‘Forget it,’she reasoned internally.’Instead of hoarding currency to blindly gamble on new Character or Ability Remembrances, it’s far more efficient to concentrate my resources on the companions I already have. Directly elevating our existing hard power is the only way to guarantee my safety in this dangerous world.’

As she pondered this strategic shift, a sudden flash of inspiration struck her.

If Memory Traces could be directly injected to restore her summons’original strength, shouldn’t there be a quantifiable standard? A metric to track their progress? Although the System usually played dead and operated on a strict’if you don’t ask, I won’t tell’ policy, there had to be a hidden mechanic for this.

Cyrene sat up straight, narrowing her eyes at the floating blue screen, and asked tentatively in her mind, ‘System, can you generate a visual progress bar? I need to know exactly how many Memory Traces must be invested for a specific character to fully restore their peak strength.’She paused, allowing a hint of genuine complaint to bleed into her mental tone.’Otherwise, it feels like I’m tossing pebbles into a dark ocean without even hearing a splash. This bottomless pit sensation is terrible for my resource management.’

The moment her thought concluded, the familiar, emotionless mechanical voice chimed directly within her consciousness.

`[Due to the vast differences in character damage levels, conceptual weight, and inherent strength ceilings, the total amount of Memory Traces required for full restoration is not consistent across all entities.]`

`[, even after a character’s state is fully restored to their original peak, Memory Traces can still be continuously invested to shatter their original ceiling and further elevate their strength.]`

Accompanying the System’s cold explanation, the holographic interface shimmered. Two brand-new, distinct data bars slowly materialized beneath the main menu, glowing with a soft, pulsing light.

`[Aglaea: 1000/10000 Memory Traces]`

`[Phainon: 1453/120000 Memory Traces]`