Star Rail: Starting with a Lyre, Living off Busking

After finishing their negotiations at the margrave's manor, the group retired to their assigned guest rooms. Following dinner, they gathered to consolidate the intelligence they had obtained.

"For now, we have a clear picture of the situation in the city," Himeko began, seated elegantly by the table as candlelight flickered around her. She clasped her hands in her lap, her tone calm yet authoritative.

"The immediate priority is dealing with the Demon General. According to the margrave, the known threat in the western frontlines—the one who decimated the decapitation squad—is the leader of the troll clans."

"Trolls, huh…" March 7th murmured, twisting a lock of her pastel-pink hair as she thought. "Didn't we run into trolls once before?"

"Little March, have you already forgotten?" Mimiya exclaimed, a touch of disbelief coloring her tone. "It was when your squad rescued us from a troll ambush!"

Despite the casual use of such a familiar nickname, no one seemed to dwell on it. Instead, they all followed the thread of the conversation.

"If I remember correctly, they were tough to take down," Stelle remarked, recalling the sensation of striking one—a blow that felt as though she had hit solid stone.

"It's more than that," Dan Heng interjected. His voice was measured, his expression serious. "In this world, trolls are a high-ranking monster species. They possess remarkable regenerative abilities, significant intelligence, and even the ability to cast magic."

He leaned slightly forward, continuing, "According to the Adventurers' Guild's classification system, defeating a troll requires strength equivalent to a gold-tier adventurer. And as the leader of its entire clan, it's safe to assume this particular troll achieved its position through strength alone—"

"In other words," March 7th chimed in, her eyes wide with realization, "even gold-tier adventurers might not be enough to handle it?"

"Exactly," Dan Heng confirmed.

"After all, didn't the decapitation squad include that golden-ranked Paladin of the Earth Mother Church? If he could've defeated the troll, he wouldn't have needed to betray his team in the first place…"

At the mention of betrayal, Mimiya added her own insight.

"Legends passed down among my people say that the strength of a Demon General can vary greatly. Beyond their species, their power is heavily influenced by the Demon Lord."

"In other words," Himeko mused, "the stronger the Demon Lord, the stronger its generals? And the weaker the Lord, the weaker the generals?"

Mimiya nodded. "That's right. Historically, when heroes have defeated the Demon Lord, it was often after systematically weakening the generals. By taking out each general, they ensured the Lord was revived in an incomplete state, making it easier to vanquish."

This explanation highlighted the elf's value as a wellspring of knowledge.

March 7th leaned back in her chair, her enthusiasm dimmed. She had initially been about to comment on how "video game-like" the setup sounded, but remembering the countless lives lost to the Demon Lord's periodic resurgences, she thought better of it.

"Well, it seems we have yet another reason to take down the Demon General," Venti said suddenly from behind her.

"Gah!" March yelped, startled by his voice. She turned to swat at him, scolding, "What the heck?! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Didn't you tell me to go change out of sight because it would ruin the illusion if I transformed back too quickly?" Venti replied, rubbing his forehead with mock indignation.

"And when I saw how engrossed you all were in the conversation, I decided not to interrupt."

"Uh… sorry," March muttered sheepishly, scooting over to give him space.

But before Venti could sit, Mimiya pulled him close, seating him next to her without hesitation. Their proximity caught the others' attention, though Mimiya seemed unbothered.

"What's the matter?" she asked, feigning innocence. "We were just talking about taking down the troll king. Can't let Venti stand the whole time."

"Y-yeah… true," March said awkwardly, choosing not to dwell on Mimiya's behavior. She shifted her focus back to Himeko, ready to hear her plan.

"Well then," Himeko began, her voice calm but firm. "Let's decide who will be part of the strike team."

Everyone turned their attention to her. Venti, however, was the obvious exclusion from the roster.

As the avatar of the Fairy Queen Nahida, his presence on the frontlines was too valuable. Just his presence on the western front was enough to stabilize morale and inspire hope among the defenders. With the city's fate hanging in the balance, his symbolic role far outweighed his combat potential in this instance.

"I'll stay with him," Mimiya volunteered. "As the only other forest kin here, I can assist Venti with any issues that come up."

Her reasoning was sound, and Himeko nodded in agreement.

That left the trio of March 7th, Dan Heng, and Stelle to form the strike team.

"And what about you, Himeko?" Dan Heng asked.

"While I'd love to join you," Himeko replied with a mysterious smile, "there's something I need to investigate. If my hunch is correct, the outcome could significantly influence public sentiment on the homefront."

March 7th pouted dramatically, throwing her arms around Himeko in an exaggerated hug. "You're not coming with us? But it's been so long since we went Trailblazing together! How can you skip out on facing the big bad with us?"

Himeko chuckled softly, stroking March's hair with a maternal gentleness.

"I promise, I won't be gone long," she reassured. "Once I've gathered the evidence I need, I'll return immediately. Besides—"

Her smile deepened, its warmth and wisdom shining through.

"Even if I'm not physically with you, don't forget: the sky is full of stars, but not all light comes from them."

March relented, though not without extracting a promise to stay in close contact.

"So," Dan Heng began, steering the conversation back on track, "we leave for the ruins tomorrow?"

"Yes," Himeko confirmed. "The sooner, the better."

As she spoke, a deafening peal of thunder rolled through the air, followed by the roar of torrential rain.

The group hurried to the entrance, peering into the downpour. Visibility dropped to almost nothing as the rain intensified, reducing the world beyond ten meters into a blurry haze.

"This storm…" Himeko murmured, her brow furrowing as unease crept into her voice.

---

Knights stationed at the magical ballistae strained to see through rain-blurred spyglasses. Even from their elevated vantage points, the storm rendered their efforts nearly futile. Confirming anything beyond a hundred meters was an arduous task.

And then, a flash of lightning illuminated the battlefield.

Dozens—no, hundreds—of hulking forms emerged from the shadows. Trolls.

Their grotesque features and glowing, lantern-like eyes were unmistakable. Mud splashed as their heavy steps churned the waterlogged ground, their excitement palpable even through the storm.

"Enemy attack! Troll swarm incoming!"

The knight captain's voice boomed over the rain, cutting through the din.

"Fire the ballistae!"

The air erupted with the sound of massive ballista bolts launching, each shot carrying enough force to rend a troll in half.

Thud! Thud!

The massive ballista bolts, infused with the explosive power of fire elements, tore through the torrential rain and struck the first advancing giant within a hundred meters.

These creatures, far larger than goblin champions, were classified as high-tier magical monsters. Despite their immense size and strength, their intelligence was minimal—lower even than goblins. They acted purely on instinct or the commands of their superiors.

As the vanguard of the Demon King's army, they served as living battering rams, boasting regenerative abilities even greater than trolls and a suicidal fearlessness.

When the bolt pierced the giant's chest, the immense force knocked its hulking body backward, flattening several goblin fodder beneath its weight. The unlucky goblins were obliterated, their remains little more than crimson smears on the muddied battlefield.

The giant howled in pain, its chest torn open, viscera and blood spilling onto the ground. Yet the gruesome wound began to knit itself together almost immediately, muscle and sinew writhing like living things. The monster flipped onto its stomach and began licking the blood-soaked mud.

Consuming the bloody slurry accelerated its regeneration. Within moments, the torn flesh expelled the embedded ballista bolt, spraying crimson arcs into the air. The creature roared, its pain seemingly dulled by sheer bloodlust, and surged forward again—only to be felled by another projectile.

For the rare few giants struck through the head, death was instantaneous. But for most, even catastrophic injuries to their limbs or torsos failed to stop their relentless advance. They were like cockroaches—disturbingly difficult to kill.

The unrelenting downpour and limited visibility made the artillery crews' work increasingly difficult. The battlefield was a chaotic quagmire, and soon, the giants reached the walls of the city. Behind them, packs of wolf-mounted gnoll raiders emerged, their eyes gleaming with feral malice.

Yet, just as the raiders approached the base of the walls, they slammed into an invisible barrier. Giants stumbled and crashed, breaking teeth and fracturing bones. Gnoll riders were flung from their mounts, their spines snapping upon impact with the unyielding force field.

All across the battlefield, a similar pattern unfolded. The city's defensive barrier held firm, though the barrage of monstrous assaults did not relent. Each new wave tested the limits of the shield's resilience.

---

Within the city, chaos reigned.

The manor was alight with activity as couriers rushed in and out, tracking the battle's progression. Messengers covered in mud collapsed from exhaustion after delivering their reports. Harried aides, their eyes bloodshot from sleepless nights, shouted orders and relayed updates to their superiors.

"Urgent report, my lady!" a young aide cried, his voice cracking. "The second, third, and sixth artillery units have all exceeded their operating limits! If we lose any more, we won't have enough firepower left to hold the line!"

"Damn it!" the Margrave spat, slamming her fist onto the table. "How long can the defensive barrier last?"

"At this rate," another aide answered gravely, "it'll collapse by three in the morning. And if we push the mages any harder, they'll be dead before the barrier falls!"

"What about reinforcements? Adventurers?"

"We've scrounged up what we could, but most of the adventurers left in the city are low-ranked. Sending them out would be a death sentence."

"And the knights?"

"The remaining squad leaders are holding their positions, but Lieutenant Loken is still recovering from his injuries. Even with everyone available, we don't have the strength to handle a single giant."

The room fell silent.

The Margrave pressed her hands to her face, forcing herself to calm down. The truth was inescapable: if the barrier fell, the city would follow. And with the current state of their defenses, it was only a matter of time.

She glanced at the ornate table, her thoughts racing.

The situation demanded drastic action. Yet, she couldn't ignore the implications. Turning to outside aid—especially to the Fairy Queen and her entourage—would mean ceding much of the kingdom's sovereignty in the region.

Her family's legacy would likely be forfeit, their lands absorbed into the burgeoning influence of the merchants and the non-human factions.

But what choice did she have? Her people were starving. Her soldiers were dying. And the Demon King's army wasn't going to wait for her pride to resolve itself.

With heavy steps, the Margrave left the war room, the weight of her decision etched into her features.

---

Rain poured in relentless sheets, reducing visibility to mere meters. Lightning illuminated the battlefield in brief, jagged flashes, revealing hordes of green-skinned monsters pushing against the barrier.

The lead knight barked commands, his voice cutting through the storm. "All artillery units, open fire! Don't let those bastards get any closer!"

The ballistae roared, their explosive bolts streaking through the air. Each impact sent shockwaves through the rain-soaked mud, but the giants kept coming.

The Margrave rushed through the hallways, her thoughts a chaotic swirl of desperation and resignation. Turning a corner, she collided with a pale-haired girl, her expression unreadable.

"Ah… you're one of the Queen's attendants, aren't you?" the Margrave stammered.

The girl nodded.

"Please," the Margrave pleaded, gripping the girl's wrist, "I need to see the Queen immediately. The situation is dire. If she doesn't intervene—"

"She already knows," the girl interrupted calmly.

The Margrave blinked. "She does? Then where is she?"

The girl gestured toward the night sky.

The Margrave followed her gaze but saw nothing—only darkness. But then, a beam of moonlight pierced through the dense clouds, illuminating the city below.

The light was ethereal, weaving through the rain like a silver veil. It wrapped the city in a protective glow, bolstering the barrier and rejuvenating the defenders. Wounds closed, exhaustion faded, and hope returned to the weary soldiers.

Above the battlefield, a figure emerged, standing amidst the radiant light. The Fairy Queen's childlike form seemed otherworldly, her voice resonating like a melody across the chaos.

"Uninvited guests," she declared, her tone sharp and commanding, "you will not find honeyed welcomes here—only iron and stone to greet your folly."

Her presence was a beacon. For the defenders, it was salvation. For the invaders, it was judgment.

The war had truly begun.

---

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