Star Rail: Starting with a Lyre, Living off Busking

—Everwinter Ridge.

This cliff stood as the northern boundary of Belobog, the origin point of an endless ice age.

Under the Stellaron's deepest influence, the northern snowfields had merged with the Fragmentum, where raging winds carried a chorus of eternal, haunting cries.

But today, change had arrived, as a massive circular platform, propelled by the winds, crossed nearly half of Belobog's fortifications and reached deep into the snowfields.

For those on board, it felt as if they were aboard some mythical starship, their footing weightless and insubstantial. The landscape rushed by at a breakneck speed, blurring into streaks that their minds couldn't process, so they shut down entirely, overtaken by sensory overload.

At this moment, Cocolia, who fancied herself a saint of the frozen land, could do nothing but cling desperately to her ice spear, trying to freeze the ground beneath her feet to avoid being flung off. Rage and fear churned within her—how could that insufferable poet possess such boundless power?

She was sure she'd aimed for his heart; how was he still alive without it? This monstrosity was obviously no human, scheming for some greater ambition by staying so close to Bronya.

It didn't matter, though. No matter what history remembered her as, she would clear Bronya's path of obstacles. If she had to drag this maniac into the icy depths, so be it. Only then could Belobog's rule remain untainted by outsiders!

Meanwhile, at the other edge of the platform, Gepard held fast to the frozen form of Seele, his hands gripping the shield he'd once lost. Though its energy field flickered weakly, it still emitted a faint protective glow over the both of them.

A thin layer of frost and snow had already covered the shield, camouflaging him almost completely, reducing his presence to almost nothing.

Despite the shock pounding through his chest, Gepard couldn't help but marvel. He'd known Venti was powerful, but to wield such force with a simple gesture—it was beyond anything he'd imagined.

More important than that, though, was—

The ice was beginning to crack.

The ice encasing Seele shuddered, small fractures spidering out as gentle winds seeped through, rekindling her strength within. The power of her struggles intensified, each movement like a hatchling breaking free from its shell, stirring something tender within him.

As they approached Everwinter Ridge, the winds wrapped around them, forming a shield that anchored both Seele and him in place to keep them from being hurled off the cliff.

Cocolia, however, wasn't so fortunate. The power she relied on failed to shield her. When the platform slammed into the ground, the ice spear shattered, and she was hurled into the distance, her body flung into the midst of frozen Antimatter Legion soldiers, scattering them like broken shards.

She finally came to a halt in a trail of crushed ice and disturbed snow, pulling herself up with agonizing slowness.

The arrogance she once wore like a cloak had peeled away, her skin marred with cuts from shattered stones, her frost-coated arm hanging uselessly, bent at unnatural angles.

Pain blanched her lips and cold sweat beaded her forehead, but not once did Cocolia make a sound of weakness. Supporting her shattered arm, she fought to stand, only to be met with a swift, shadowy blur that streaked toward her like an arrow of retribution.

"—!"

All her focus was drawn upward, but by the time she realized the threat, it was too late. A scythe, sharp as death itself, swept toward her neck, the very incarnation of vengeance.

It was in those eyes—the vivid, crimson gaze that looked like it had stared into the heart of hellfire. They gleamed with cold, unyielding malice, a fury that could not forgive the slightest trespass.

Her body, which laughed in the face of cold, now trembled. It was the same fear that had bound her when she'd first come face-to-face with the Stellaron—a raw, bone-deep terror, her body naked and exposed to a maelstrom of freezing dark.

Her nerves shrieked, curling inward like frightened worms, each heartbeat pumping a new wave of dread through her veins.

And the looming shadow that was Seele drew closer, like some avenging specter. She leveled her scythe at Cocolia's neck, her voice steely and unfeeling.

"You're not getting away so easily."

The blade grazed Cocolia's skin, a trickle of blood seeping forth, soaking her collar with the warmth of her anger.

"Stop your blasphemy, sinner!" Cocolia snarled, face twisted in rage, refusing to cower before the girl's boiling hatred.

Once, she'd thought of herself as the spider at the center of a web, free to crush any butterfly daring enough to flutter too high. But now, backed into a corner by her own arrogance, she was choking on the bitter taste of her own poison.

With an explosion of fury, her body surged with frigid power. "I said—get back!"

Another wave of biting frost radiated from her, aiming to hurl Seele away. But in a flash, the butterfly-quick girl slipped back into the quantum realm, leaving only a faint ripple in her wake.

Then Cocolia heard footsteps from behind, heavy and purposeful. She barely had time to turn when a silver-armored fist came swinging into her view.

The blow landed with a sickening crunch, her neck jerking under the impact. Any normal person would have been out cold, but Cocolia's eyes still blazed, her mouth set in a grimace of twisted pride.

Yet the coordinated assault of Gepard and Seele wasn't over.

The moment his strike hit, Gepard pivoted, grabbing Cocolia's arm and twisting it at an unnatural angle. His elbow connected with her jaw, satisfaction flickering as her face contorted with pain.

But his violence wasn't out of personal hatred—it was to right her treachery with justice, to give his anger a rightful outlet.

Gepard's blows rained down, relentless, each one more brutal than the last. Finally, Cocolia was forced to act, conjuring another ice spear to strike back. She barely raised it before a tearing pain exploded along her back. Seele had reappeared, her scythe leaving a gash from Cocolia's shoulder down to her hip.

It was a fatal wound.

But for Cocolia, it was not enough. Her voice, hoarse and crazed, spat out a venomous curse.

"By the power of Preservation… feel despair!"

Before she could utter another word, Gepard's shield bashed into her chest, hurling her back. "You abandoned your people, surrendered to the Stellaron's madness! You're unworthy of Preservation!"

Each word carried his deep loathing, a final condemnation of the woman who'd once sworn to protect them.

Bruised and broken, Cocolia struggled to stand, her head swimming from Gepard's blow. She could barely discern snowflakes from the next wave of incoming fists, her limbs twitching with effort that went unanswered.

Blood seeped through the snow, and she became acutely aware of her mortality.

And above, Venti descended, Bronya at his side. Her face was hard, her gun blazing as she leveled it at her mother, her voice cold and final.

"Any last words?"

Cocolia looked up, her eyes hollow with a twisted kind of joy. She had indeed changed Bronya—hardened her into someone willing to lead without mercy, to claim her place without hesitation, even if it meant renouncing a mother's love.

There would be no more weaknesses, no more regrets.

For her, as a mother, her task was complete. Now, she would fulfill her final duty as the saint of Belobog's winter—one last time.

She muttered, half-lucid, as if enraptured by some vision.

"She promised… a world… reborn from here…"

The ground began to quake, frost seeping outward, and the frozen Legion soldiers nearby shattered like glass under the tremor.

At that exact moment, Bronya's gun erupted in a searing blaze, piercing through Cocolia's chest, searing flesh and scorching bone.

The wound sizzled, steam rising as the smell of charred skin filled the air.

But Cocolia seemed to barely notice. Her hands reached for something unseen, staggering to her feet on sheer willpower.

Then, like an ancient banner raised, a colossal spear of ice materialized in her grasp.

"Destruction begets creation. As the Great Guardian of Belobog, I invoke you—Creation Engine!"

The earth shuddered as an ancient engine stirred beneath the ice. The entire cliffside quaked as a massive automaton broke through the glacier. The heat from its internal furnace melted the frost coating it, revealing its mountain-like form.

"What—? This thing is a thousand times the size of Svarog!" Seele cursed, her face paling. Even Gepard looked grim.

Bronya's eyes widened. "It's a fortress-class automaton! Everyone, watch out!"

As if in defiance of her words, Cocolia, bleeding and broken, shouted from below, "Engine… eradicate them! Flatten this mountain!"

In response, the Creation Engine's furnace eyes flared, and the force of its arm swinging downward generated a wind that threatened to rip them from the ground.

"Move! It's attacking!" Seele yelled, sensing the imminent danger. But this wasn't something they could

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