Honkai Star Rail: Summoning the Chrysos Heirs — Chapter 77

Chapter 77: The Disaster Is Over

Fourth underground level.

The air was thick with the stench of decay and stagnant purple mist.

“Now that all the Puppet Soldiers have been brought under control, you may begin.” The calm, authoritative voice of Aglaea echoed from the faceless Cloth Artisan hovering in the dim air.

“Everything is set, then?” Phainon rose from a slab of shattered concrete, casually brushing the gritty dust from the hem of his robe. He rolled his stiff shoulders, his neck letting out two sharp cracks that echoed in the cavernous space.

His gaze swept over the debris-choked floor, locking onto the massive, deformed core pulsating violently in the distance. It was a grotesque, fleshy plant, spewing toxic mist from its thick petals.

“Since that’s the case, it’s my turn to take the stage,” Phainon murmured. He stepped forward, raising his right hand to grip the empty air.

Blinding golden specks of light converged in his palm. The sheer heat radiating from the gathering energy caused the surrounding air to warp and distort. With a heavy, resonant hum, the Morning Invader greatsword materialized. The massive hilt dropped into his grasp with a dull, bone-rattling thud.

Phainon gripped the weapon with both hands. He leaned forward, dropping his center of gravity. The gentle, easygoing demeanor he usually carried vanished, replaced by a cold, predatory focus. Muscles coiled tight, he drew power from his core, unleashing a horizontal slash utterly devoid of flashy flourishes.

Swish—!

A blinding golden-red arc of fire tore through the subterranean gloom, burning an afterimage into the retina.

The grotesque flora froze mid-pulsation. The stomata along its thick petals ceased their rhythmic breathing. A split second later, a hair-thin line of incandescent fire bloomed across the center of its massive stem. The heavy crown slid slowly off its base. Before the corrosive purple sap could even spray outward, the residual heat of the blade vaporized it into a cloud of harmless white steam.

With the death of the parent body, the sprawling root system buried deep beneath the concrete began to thrash and wither. A deep, groaning tremor rippled outward, shaking the very foundations of the Western Ruins.

Above ground.

Gravel and dust rained down from the fractured ceiling of an unfinished high-rise. Huddled in a dark corner, a surviving Ability User flinched at the sudden vibration. Terrified that the monsters had returned, he cautiously poked his head over the windowsill.

His pupils shrank.

The suffocating purple fog—a toxic blanket that had choked the city streets for what felt like an eternity—was rapidly receding, pulling back like a defeated tide. Through the thinning haze, the long-lost, ashen gray of the natural sky finally bled through.

He stared, dumbfounded. He rubbed his eyes furiously, then pinched his own thigh. A sharp, grounding pain flared up.

Not a dream.

“The fog is clearing… the fog is clearing!” he gasped, his voice cracking. He scrambled up from the concrete, stumbling wildly down the debris-littered stairwell, completely oblivious to the shoe he had left behind in his haste. “Everyone, come out! The fog is gone! We’re saved!”

His hoarse, raw screams echoed down the empty streets, carrying the pure, unadulterated hysteria of survival.

Western stronghold.

Inside a fortified, half-constructed building, the air was heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the sharp sting of medical alcohol.

“Captain, so you actually met them? Phainon and Aglaea… the ones claiming to be from that ‘Flamechaser’ organization?” Tang Yuan knelt on the cracked floorboards. Her tweezers gripped a blood-soaked cotton ball as she carefully cleaned the deep lacerations across Illusory Drawing’s chest. Despite her gentle, practiced motions, her fingers betrayed a slight tremor.

The middle-aged Captain sat slumped against the peeling wall, his face drained of color. He glanced down at his own torso, heavily wrapped in thick bandages, and let out a ragged breath.

“They are strong,” he said, his tone grave. “No, that doesn’t do it justice. They are terrifyingly powerful. Especially that young man you mentioned. Phainon.”

Recalling the absolute, one-sided slaughter he had witnessed in the basement, the Captain swallowed hard. “If they truly went straight to the source to end this…” He looked toward the window, where the thick purple haze still lingered. “Then I suspect this nightmare will be over very soon.”

“I hope you’re right,” Tang Yuan whispered. She tossed the ruined cotton into a waste bag and shifted her attention to the severe bruising on Instant Flash’s arm.

A sudden, violent tremor shook the building.

The bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling swung wildly, casting erratic shadows and raining plaster dust over the wounded.

“What’s happening?” Tang Yuan gasped, dropping her tweezers with a sharp clatter. She instinctively threw her arms wide, shielding the unconscious Listener behind her.

“I’ll check. Vector, watch the perimeter,” the Captain grunted. Fighting through the agonizing flare of pain in his ribs, he braced his hands against the wall and forced himself to his feet.

“Captain! You’re in no condition—”

“I’ll live,” he interrupted, waving her off. Dragging his heavy boots across the floor, he limped out into the corridor.

The room descended into a suffocating silence. Tang Yuan stared at the empty doorway, her heart hammering against her ribs. Every passing second stretched into an eternity.

Finally, the heavy, dragging footsteps returned.

The Captain leaned heavily against the doorframe. The hardened, grim mask he had worn since the disaster began had completely shattered. In his bloodshot, exhausted eyes, a fragile light flickered.

“What is it? What’s going on out there?” Tang Yuan scrambled to her feet, panic lacing her voice.

The Captain took a long, shuddering breath, exhaling the stale, fearful air from his lungs. “The fog… it’s dissipating.”

Tang Yuan froze. Her mind went entirely blank, unable to process the weight of those words.

The Captain looked at her stunned expression, then shifted his gaze to the three critically injured squad members bleeding out on the floor. A complex mix of deep grief, exhaustion, and overwhelming relief washed over his weathered face.

“I said, the fog is gone,” he repeated, his voice cracking. A broken, disbelieving smile forced its way onto his face. “They didn’t lie to us. This disaster… it’s finally over.”

Edge of the ruins.

Step, step, step.

The crisp, rhythmic crunch of heavy military boots echoed through the rubble. Mo Chenfeng, who had collapsed against a shattered wall to rest, shot up like a startled animal.

It’s not over?!

Panic seized his chest. He backed away, pressing himself flat against the broken concrete, his hands waving frantically as he tried to summon whatever pitiful scraps of wind elemental energy he had left. His first, terrifying thought was that a stray pack of Puppet Soldiers had tracked him down to finish the job.

But as the figures emerged from the dust, Mo Chenfeng froze.

These were not the hollow, dead-eyed monsters that had hunted them all night. They didn’t move with that stiff, jerky mechanical gait. Their rifles were lowered, slung casually at their sides, not raised to kill.

They were rescue troops in standard uniform.

More, they had the eyes of living, breathing humans—eyes filled with determination, urgency, and genuine concern.

The lead soldier broke into a sprint, catching Mo Chenfeng just as his legs gave out.

“Comrade, are you alright?” the soldier demanded, his voice loud, steady, and incredibly grounding. “The threat has been neutralized! We just got the order from high command. You did a hell of a job holding out, but you’re safe now. Everyone is safe!”

The disaster… neutralized? I did a good job? Safe?

Mo Chenfeng opened his mouth to speak, but a thick knot formed in his throat, choking off his words. The adrenaline that had kept him running for hours finally evaporated, and the taut strings of his sanity went slack.

A crushing wave of exhaustion crashed over him, pulling him under.

Thank god… That was his final, fading thought before the world went black, his body going completely limp in the soldier’s arms.

“Medic! Get a stretcher over here! We need to move him to the ambulance, now!”

The soldier’s frantic shouts grew muffled and distant as Mo Chenfeng lost consciousness. The rest of the squad fanned out, their flashlights cutting through the settling dust as they scoured the ruins for more survivors.

High above the wreckage, the Cloth Artisan hovered in absolute silence. Its faceless head tilted downward, silently observing the rescue efforts below. Only when Mo Chenfeng was securely loaded into the back of an armored ambulance did the entity turn away, dissolving into a streak of golden light that vanished into the clearing sky.

However, down in the rubble, hidden from the eyes of the medics and soldiers…

A tiny, mechanical beetle emitting a faint golden glow crawled silently up the edge of the stretcher, slipping unnoticed into the dust-caked pocket of Mo Chenfeng’s jacket.