Honkai Star Rail: Summoning the Chrysos Heirs — Chapter 82

Chapter 82: Two Rivals

“Mydeimos, welcome.”

Aglaea gave a slight, elegant nod as the towering warrior emerged from the blinding red light of the summoning array.

“Long time no see, Aglaea.”

Heavy, rhythmic footsteps echoed across the floor, the friction of his thick armor grinding out a harsh, metallic scrape with every movement. He raised a gauntleted hand, waving at her with casual familiarity.

“Mydei, hello! Welcome to this world~”

Cyrene stood off to the side, her face blooming into a bright, harmless smile. She waved both hands enthusiastically at the legendary Demigod of Strife, her voice dripping with sugary joy.

Mydei paused, his heavy boots grinding to a halt. He turned his head, his sharp golden eyes sweeping over her small frame. A faint, amused smile tugged at his lips.

“Hello. You must be Cyrene. I know you.” His voice was a deep rumble. “I knew of you even before the Remembrance was instilled into my current vessel. Phainon used to talk about you constantly back in the day.”

After speaking, Mydei turned away, his gaze locking onto Phainon. The other man was standing nearby, staring blankly at the wall, completely lost in his own world.

Mydei raised a thick eyebrow. He closed the distance in three massive strides, pulled his arm back, and swung.

Smack.

A dull, thunderous impact echoed through the room. The open-handed slap caught Phainon squarely on the shoulder, carrying enough kinetic force to violently pitch his entire body sideways. White-hot pain flared through his nerves in an instant.

Phainon’s previously unfocused eyes snapped wide open, flooded with sudden clarity and fury. He clutched his throbbing shoulder, sucking in a sharp breath of cold air, and glared daggers at the towering warrior.

“Mydei, what the hell are you doing?!”

“What am I doing?”

Mydei crossed his massive arms over his chest, utterly unbothered by the bristling hostility. He looked down at Phainon with a perfectly justified expression.

“It has been ages since we last saw each other, and you do not even know how to say hello? You were just standing there like a decorative wooden post.”

A muscle worked in Phainon’s jaw. He rubbed his numb shoulder, his expression twisting into a sneer of pure disdain.

“I was actually using my brain to think about something. Not that you would understand, you simple-minded brute.” He scoffed, looking Mydei up and down like he was inspecting a piece of trash. “Never thinking, just slapping people the second you walk into a room. Is this your primitive idea of a greeting?”

“Heh. Still better than whatever you do.”

Mydei did not show a single ounce of anger at the insult. Instead, he leaned in, his own sneer matching Phainon’s.

“If you love thinking so much, how did you manage to think yourself into a miserable corner back then?” The Demigod of Strife took a step forward, his towering frame casting a heavy, oppressive shadow over Phainon. “In the past, you were always screaming in my ear about taking revenge on the murderer who burned down your hometown. You fought like a rabid dog every time we sparred. And what did that get you?”

Mydei shook his head, his tone dripping with absolute mockery.

“A complete fool. Trapped in a dead end of your own making, torturing yourself for nothing.”

Phainon’s face contorted. That edgy, revenge-obsessed phase was the darkest, most embarrassing history of his life, and this musclehead had just broadcasted it to the entire room. But Phainon was quick on his feet. He swallowed his embarrassment and fired back.

“I was making things hard for myself? Then why do you not do some basic math and calculate exactly how many times that trapped-in-a-dead-end version of me beat you into the dirt?”

Phainon shoved three fingers directly into Mydei’s face, waving them tauntingly.

“Over thirty million times! Mydei, just how thick is that skull of yours to selectively erase that record from your memory?”

That number struck a nerve. Mydei’s calm composure shattered in an instant. His face flushed a furious crimson, and thick veins bulged against his temples.

“You know damn well you were cheating! I never should have told you my weaknesses!” He swung his fist through the air, the sheer force of the motion kicking up a sharp gust of wind. “You want to go another round right now?! Right here! Let us see who puts who in the dirt!”

Seeing Mydei lose his temper instantly cooled Phainon down. He mirrored Mydei’s earlier stance, crossing his arms and tilting his chin up in the universal posture of a smug victor.

“Oh my. A defeat is a defeat. Why so many excuses?” Phainon drawled, dragging out the syllables to ensure every word pricked at Mydei’s warrior pride like a needle. “I distinctly recall you saying that reasons are just excuses for the weak. What is wrong? Are you looking for excuses now, too?”

Mydei choked on his own rage. He glared at Phainon through violently gritted teeth, his fists clenched so tightly the knuckles popped like firecrackers. The air between them grew impossibly heavy, suffocatingly thick with the scent of imaginary gunpowder. They were half a second away from tearing the room apart.

Standing on the sidelines, Cyrene watched the escalating disaster, feeling entirely out of her depth. She looked from Mydei’s tomato-red face to Phainon’s incredibly punchable smirk. There was absolutely no room for her to intervene. Weren’t these two supposed to be old comrades reuniting after an eternity? Why were they acting like they had a generational blood feud the second they made eye contact?

Helpless, she turned her head, casting a desperate, pleading gaze toward Aglaea, who was calmly watching the theatrical display.

“Agy, can you make them stop? If they keep barking at each other, they are actually going to destroy the room!”

Aglaea gracefully lowered her porcelain teacup to its saucer. She gave a slow, elegant nod, her golden eyes narrowing just a fraction.

“It is indeed a bit noisy.”

The next second, her slender fingers lifted, hooking gently through the empty air.

Swish.

A sharp, subtle sound of air being sliced open echoed through the room. Before the two bickering men could even register the shift in the atmosphere, countless shimmering Golden Threads materialized out of the void, whipping around their bodies with blinding speed.

Thump! Thump!

Two heavy bodies hit the floorboards in rapid succession. Phainon and Mydei were instantly trussed up into two tightly wound golden cocoons, collapsing straight onto the ground.

Yet, even with their limbs completely paralyzed and their mouths sealed shut by the glowing threads, the war raged on. Phainon writhed frantically against the floor, his eyes bulging as he glared at Mydei.

“Mmph mmph mmph mmph! Mmph mmph mmph!!”

Refusing to be outdone, Mydei craned his stiff neck upward, vibrating with rage as he released muffled roars from the back of his throat.

“Mmph mmph! Mmph mmph mmph mmph!!”

They looked like two beached fish flopping on the shore, wriggling violently against the wood while aggressively outputting angry muffled noises at each other. The truly terrifying part was that they seemed to perfectly understand every single insult. Their eye contact was completely barrier-free, their expressions shifting from outrage to mockery in perfect sync with the other’s grunts.

Cyrene stared at the spectacle, utterly lost for words. Her mouth hung open slightly. She did not even know where to begin unpacking this. Should she praise their incredible brotherhood? But they had been at each other’s throats the moment they met. This was not brotherhood, this was pure, unadulterated hatred.

But if they hated each other, how could they hold a flawless, telepathic argument while gagged and tied to the floor? Just how deep did their bond go to achieve this level of synchronization? ‘This is absolutely not how telepathy is supposed to be used!’

Staring at the two golden caterpillars aggressively bumping into each other on the floor, Cyrene turned her pleading gaze back to Aglaea.

“Agy… this…”

Then, she noticed something rare. Aglaea’s perpetually serene face had darkened. The gentle, noble smile she always wore had vanished, replaced by a very clear, very cold look of absolute impatience. Aglaea raised her hand, a brilliant golden light flickering at her fingertips.

“Garmentmaker.”

With that soft, commanding call, a floating Garmentmaker materialized from the light beside her. Without a second of hesitation, the entity drifted over to the two wriggling golden maggots and raised its mechanical fists.

Bang! Bang!

Two dull, heavy impacts struck the floor. The frantic muffled noises ceased instantly. Phainon and Mydei went completely limp, lying flat and unconscious on the ground.

The entire world was finally quiet.