Honkai Star Rail: Summoning the Chrysos Heirs — Chapter 55

Chapter 55: Anomaly Detector (Replica)

“Welcome to the team, little Cyrene!”

An Ning was the first to break the silence after Cyrene finished speaking. The rigid, professional tension that usually gripped the older woman’s features melted away, instantly blooming into a brilliant, genuine smile.

She closed the distance between them with a single stride, threw her arms wide, and pulled Cyrene into a tight, uncompromising hug. The sheer physical strength behind the embrace was startling, radiating an undisguised, overwhelming enthusiasm.

Cyrene let out a soft, muffled squeak as she was squeezed against the officer’s chest. The crisp, clean scent of lemon laundry detergent lingered right at the tip of her nose, grounding the moment in a sudden domestic warmth. She blinked, her hands hovering awkwardly in mid-air for a second before she gently rested her palms against An Ning’s back.

“Sister An Ning,” Cyrene murmured, her tone dipping into a playful, airy lilt. “If my memory serves me right, you used to be the picture of a cold, decisive superior in front of everyone else. What happened to that?”

Hearing the gentle jab, An Ning’s shoulders stiffened. She awkwardly loosened her grip, setting Cyrene back down on her feet, and lifted an index finger to scratch her cheek. Her gaze darted to the side, suddenly finding the walls fascinating.

“That… well, that is simply a requirement of the job,” An Ning coughed dryly, desperately attempting to scrape together whatever remained of her authoritative dignity. Yet, the fond smile tugging at the corners of her mouth refused to be suppressed. “I have to maintain a certain image in front of the subordinates and the civilian populace. If I walk around smiling all day, the team becomes impossible to lead. But things are different now. You are officially my colleague. Naturally, I don’t need to put on that exhausting act for our own people.”

Just as the warmth of the moment settled, a series of deliberately heavy, measured footsteps echoed from the side of the room.

Lin Xiaoya straightened the collar of a completely non-existent cloak. She approached with a slow, exaggerated stride, walking as though an invisible red carpet had been rolled out beneath her boots. Stopping dead in front of Cyrene, she suddenly threw her right hand up to cover half her face, leaving only one intensely narrowed eye visible through the gap in her fingers.

When she spoke, her voice dropped an octave, dripping with manufactured, magnetic gravity.

“Rejoice! The grand gears of destiny have finally aligned.”

Lin Xiaoya whipped her hand away from her face and pointed dramatically at Cyrene, striking a pose that bordered on the theatrical extreme.

“I welcome thee into my vanguard! Though I must admit, that dreadful habit of thine—speaking in drawn-out pauses to manufacture suspense—displeased me greatly. For a fleeting moment, I suspected thou might betray our sacred covenant…”

She let her words trail off, peeking through the gaps of her fingers to carefully gauge Cyrene’s reaction. Seeing no mockery, Lin Xiaoya gave a soft, haughty huff and tilted her chin up in classic tsundere fashion.

“But, considering thy previous assistance in helping me banish the vile creatures of the Abyss, this Apostle of Condemnation shall be magnanimous. I shall overlook thy transgressions this once.”

With painstaking slowness, Lin Xiaoya extended her black-gloved right hand, palm facing upward, letting it hover right in front of Cyrene’s chest.

“Come. Sign this eternal contract with me. Thou art the companion recognized by my Demon Eye—the Golden Recorder who etches all things into memory.”

Looking down at the gloved hand offered to her, Cyrene simply smiled. The diamond-shaped pupils of her eyes shimmered with quiet amusement. Rather than brushing the girl off, she elegantly reached out, gently resting her fingers against Lin Xiaoya’s palm, and dipped into a flawless, aristocratic curtsy.

“The honor is entirely mine. I look forward to your deep guidance from this day forward, Apostle of Condemnation—Miss Pitch-Black Wings.”

Their hands clasped in the air.

Watching the new recruit treat her elaborate fantasy with such absolute, unwavering sincerity, a furious blush exploded across Lin Xiaoya’s cheeks beneath her mask. She clearly had not prepared a contingency plan for someone actually cooperating with her performance.

A short distance away, Lei Ye observed the chaotic, heartwarming scene in total silence.

The perpetually cold, hardened lines of his face finally softened, the heavy burden of leadership lifting from his shoulders for just a fraction of a second. He did not speak a word to interrupt the girls’ interaction. Instead, he simply lowered his head, pressed his fountain pen to the very bottom of the official Bureau file, and slashed a heavy, definitive checkmark across the paper.

The sharp scratch of the metal nib against the parchment echoed softly in the room—a final, quiet note signaling that the dust had truly settled.

Night eventually fell over the city, painting the sky in a blanket of scattered stars.

Deep within the Physical Data Space, a river of simulated galaxies flowed in absolute silence.

Cyrene sat comfortably in an oversized, high-backed chair, her legs dangling over the edge and swinging rhythmically back and forth. She rested her chin in the palm of her hand, her gaze sweeping aimlessly over the towering, ethereal architecture of her domain. In the quiet solitude, her mind was already sketching out vast blueprints for the future expansion of this sanctuary, biding her time until a certain someone returned.

She did not have to wait long.

A brilliant golden ripple suddenly distorted the air in the center of the room. Countless specks of pristine light surged together, rapidly outlining the tall, slender silhouette of Phainon. The summon materialized out of thin air, his boots touching down silently against the polished platform.

Seeing him arrive, Cyrene instantly stopped swinging her legs and sat up straight. Her diamond eyes brightened with sharp curiosity.

“How did it go, Phainon? Did the Anomaly Detector work as expected? Was it easy to handle out in the field?”

Hearing his master’s rapid-fire questions, Phainon did not answer immediately. He raised his right hand, crushing the lingering, corrupted remnants of his recent prey within his palm, purifying the foul energy into a shower of dancing golden light that faded into the atmosphere.

Only then did he turn to face Cyrene, offering a respectful nod. His deep voice carried a distinct note of professional approval.

“It is exceptionally useful. The exact coordinates and density of any Abomination within a ten-kilometer radius become clear at a single glance.”

As he spoke, Phainon reached into the deep folds of his robes and withdrew a sleek, disk-shaped device, placing it gently onto the table between them.

“With this instrument in my possession, I no longer need to constantly expend my own senses to sweep the city for Abominations. Our hunting efficiency has improved drastically.”

Cyrene’s gaze locked onto the device.

It was a metallic disk resembling a high-tech radar compass, its smooth surface shimmering with a pale blue, holographic luster. It was the exact physical replica she had separated from the core Anomaly Detector installed within her System panel.

When the System had first rewarded her with the detection function, Cyrene had spent hours agonizing over the logistics. If this miraculous radar could only be viewed through the retinas of a ‘level five weakling’ like herself, it would be a catastrophic waste of a divine tool.

If they needed to track down high-threat Abominations in the future, would she really have to drag herself to the blood-soaked front lines just to act as a human GPS for Phainon? Before she managed to accumulate enough raw combat power to actually defend herself, stepping onto a battlefield was no different from throwing her life away.

So, she had decisively interrogated the System for a workaround.

Fortunately, while the System was a ruthless extortionist when it came to currency, its actual functions were surprisingly accommodating. For the steep price of 100 Memory Traces, she could manifest a physical, localized terminal of the radar for her summons to carry.

The only minor flaw was its physical nature—unlike Cyrene’s internal interface, which was smoothly projected onto her vision, Phainon actually had to carry the metal disk around.

But that was a trivial inconvenience.

For the sake of absolute safety and maximum efficiency, Cyrene had gritted her teeth and opened her wallet. She hadn’t just spent the base 100 Memory Traces to print the radar; she had bled out an additional 90 Memory Traces on top of it. Following the System’s extortionate exchange rate of ’10 Memory Traces per 1-kilometer radius increase,’ she had forcibly expanded the device’s detection range to a massive ten kilometers.

A grand total of 190 Memory Traces. It was a small fortune that made her heart bleed just thinking about it. But looking at the pristine device resting on the table now, the investment was undeniably worth the pain.

“As long as it keeps you efficient and keeps me out of the line of fire, it was worth the heavy cost,” Cyrene muttered, reaching out a delicate finger to poke the radar’s cold metal casing. Then, realizing the room was entirely too quiet, she glanced around the empty platform.

“By the way… where is Aglaea?”

Phainon stood alone under the starlight. That stunning, elegant golden figure was nowhere to be seen.

“Did she not return to the sanctuary with you?” Cyrene asked, tilting her head.

“I initiated a second point of contact with the operatives from the Special Anomaly Bureau,” Phainon replied, pulling out the chair opposite Cyrene and taking a seat. His expression remained perfectly calm, his posture immaculate.

“Following Lady Aglaea’s grand design, I conducted the preliminary negotiations under the guise of a vanguard for the ‘Flamechasers.’ I intentionally fed them fragmented, vague intelligence regarding our motives.”

He paused, shifting his gaze toward a distant point in the void, as if his eyes could pierce through the boundaries of the Physical Data Space and observe the waking world outside.

“Once I completed the necessary show of force and established our foundation, I withdrew. The stage has now been entirely handed over to her.”

Phainon looked back at Cyrene, the faintest ghost of a smile touching his lips.

“Right at this very moment, Lady Aglaea should be finalizing her preparations. She is about to step into the light and meet the high-ranking managers of the Bureau… as a core, founding member of the Flamechasers.”