Honkai Star Rail: Chained to the Aeon of Elation

Two suns blazed in the sky, casting an oppressive, golden light over a barren wasteland dotted with jagged rocks. The heat was unbearable, but that wasn't what unsettled him. It was the bodies. Dozens of them, sprawled across the ground like broken dolls, their lifeless eyes staring into nothing. The air stank of blood, sweat, and something acrid he couldn't identify.

"What the hell..." The words left his mouth unbidden, his voice trembling. He clutched his head, trying to piece together anything. Who am I? The memories were fragments, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. No name came to mind.

"Y," he muttered to himself after what felt like an eternity of silence. "I'll call myself Y. Like... Why am I here? And it sounds cool... right?"

It didn't.

The heat, the corpses, the suffocating silence - he had to move. As soon as he took his first step, however, a gruff yell pierced the air. He turned, just in time to see a burly man charging at him, a crude blade raised high.

"Hey, uh—wait! I don't even know what's happening!" Y shouted, stumbling back.

The man didn't care. No, he simply grinned at Y and let out a slight laugh. As his blade swung down. Instinct screamed in Y's body, and before he could think, a shimmering, white wire shot from the palm of his hand. It moved like a viper, piercing the man's chest with a sickening crack.

The man collapsed in a heap, eyes wide in disbelief as blood pooled around him.

Others who were minding their own business turned to the disturbance only for the scene to shock them. The bloodthirsty hunter, Dig, was dead. A man known for killing people who even remotely looked handsome. Sadly the reasons behind it were pretty pathetic;

It was Dig's form of vengeance against the world for not being born handsome.

Y stared at the corpse, his breath shallow. His hands trembled as he tried to make sense of what he'd just done. "No... no, no, no." He stumbled back, tripping over a rock and landing hard on the ground. For a moment, he just sat there, staring at the blood on his hands.

The wire retracted back into his palm, disappearing as if it had never existed. Feeling multiple gazes and footsteps approaching his direction, he did the one thing he could.

He stood back up and looked at those around him and with a fearless expression, he stepped forward, flexing his fingers...

Y ran.

You couldn't blame the guy, he had no idea what was going on. In the simplest terms, he died, spoke to a being that defied the laws of existence and was brought back to life.

He didn't know how long he'd been running, but his legs ached by the time he found a run-down building nestled among the rocks. It was small, barely more than four walls and a roof, but it was enough.

Collapsing inside, Y doubled over and threw up. He couldn't get the image of the dead man out of his mind - his face, his eyes, the way his body crumpled. "What's happening to me?" he muttered.

For days, he hid in that building. The first day, he didn't eat. By the second, his stomach growled so loudly it startled him. He scavenged what little food he could find, his thoughts a swirling mess of fear, guilt, and anger.

When he wasn't berating himself for what he'd done, he was trying to understand what he'd become.

'The white wires, just what were they?'

They answered his commands, moving almost like they were alive, but using them left him feeling drained.

"To make things interesting. I'll give you power, a spark of my own delightful chaos. In return, you'll be my Emanator - a champion of laughter and absurdity! You'll spread my influence, and make the universe a little less boring."

For a moment, he allowed himself a small smile. "They're kind of cool, I guess. I mean, I can control them with my mind. That's got to count for something, right?"

But the smile faded as quickly as it came. The image of the dead man flashed in his mind again. He clenched his fists, the wires flickering into existence before vanishing just as quickly."I'm pathetic," he muttered, his voice dripping with self-loathing. "All those times I yelled 'Just kill the guy already!' when reading webnovels or watching anime... Where's that guy now, huh? Where's the idiot who thought killing someone was no big deal?" He let out a bitter laugh.

His stomach growled again.

"Fine, I get it," he grumbled, pulling on a tattered cloak he found on the ground - something he'd been using for the cold at night. "Let's find something to eat before I starve to death."

-----

The market was bustling with activity, but what disturbed Y, or was supposed to disturb him was the nonchalance - bodies laid on the ground, some kicked when they were considered "in the way." Yet seeing this scene, he felt like laughing, and though it was a small itch in his throat, he was able to contain himself.

The smell of meat attracted Y, and just staring at it made his mouth water, but it didn't take long for him to feel the weight of several heavy gazes on him. The myriad of emotions coming off of them frightened him and when his eyes drifted to a wall plastered with wanted posters. His own face stared back at him, the words "DEAD OR ALIVE" printed in bold letters beneath it.

Issued by the Digglet Clan.

'Would you look at that? I'm famous!'

"Hey, you!" a gruff voice barked. "Take that hood off!"

"Who me?" Y responded as a man with a halberd on his back approached him.

His appearance was domineering, with a scar across his right eye, and multiple missing teeth. Yet, weirdly enough, it didn't have any effect on Y. 

"Sure..." Watching him slowly take off his cloak, the man tensed, before his vision was obscured by said cloak.

Y didn't wait. He bolted, shoving past the startled merchants and customers as the sound of pursuit erupted behind him. His heart pounded as he rounded a corner, his eyes scanning desperately for an escape route.

A building loomed ahead, its walls riddled with cracks. As if time froze, he could see it, a faint outline of himself appearing, and climbing up the wall. Without thinking, Y grabbed hold of a ledge and pulled himself up, following the movements he had just witnessed. His body moved faster than he thought possible, scaling the structure with ease. He reached the roof, but his momentum carried him forward - and fell straight through a weak section of the roof.

"Agh!"

He landed hard, the air knocked out of his lungs. Dazed, he looked around - and froze.

The room was dimly lit, but he could make out the forms of women chained to the walls. Some stared at him with hollow eyes, others whispered pleas for help.

"What the..." Y whispered. "Is this..."

"Oi, you look like you've seen a ghost," A thug, who was originally surprised by our protagonist's appearance, sneered, stepping forward with a wicked grin.

Yet Y didn't respond. White strings began to rap around his hand, as he could feel something flooding his mind. With his lips curling up, he laughed.

It wasn't a laugh of joy or humour - it was the kind of laugh that bubbled up when your brain couldn't handle reality anymore. "This can't be real," he muttered, shaking his head. "This is like something out of a bad story. What's next? A talking dog and a space princess come to save me?"

The thug's grin faltered when he noticed he was being ignored.

Before the man could react, the white lines that were slivering around Y's hands, erupted, lashing out like snakes. They moved with deadly precision. The women's shackles fell away as the lines sliced through them, one after another.

Y turned to them. "If you want to live, leave. If you don't..." He shrugged. "I don't know, sit there, I guess? You'd probably become collateral though."

"Hoh, it looks like you found our precious toys. If you wanted them for yourselves, you could've asked." The man who was chasing him earlier fell through the broken roof, landing on the rubble next to Y.

"You're acting like I'm one of you degenerate pigs. Don't make me laugh."

While Scarface grinned, not taking offence to this as if he were proud of such a fact, the other thug didn't take kindly to this. Or thugs as more had seemingly spawned out of nowhere. They charged at him, weapons drawn.

Y didn't think. His body moved on its own, the white lines responding to his will. He weaved through the attackers with newfound agility, his wires cutting through weapons and flesh alike.

"Is this your first fight?" he taunted, dodging a swing. "I've seen toddlers swing sticks better than you!"

A particularly burly thug lunged at him, only to find himself tangled in the white strings before his body was sliced cleanly into multiple pieces.

"Seriously!" Y laughed, stepping over another man as he writhed on the ground. "At least try to make this interesting!"

Despite his bravado, the fight wasn't without its challenges. He took several hits, the pain sharp but not unfamiliar. It wasn't his first time getting hurt. He experienced his fair share of pain before arriving here.

By the time the last thug fell, the room was eerily silent. Y stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving. His wires retracted, vanishing into whisps of light.

'I'm beginning to understand... It feels like I have the knowledge to fight, and my body is simply adapting to said knowledge. Also, I can feel a source to draw upon... It's my connection to him.'

"J-just what are you?!" Scarface, who was originally intent on watching from the sidelines, yet couldn't understand how or what happened.

More than 40 people were killed - just like that. And throughout it all, it seemed like they were being toyed with."Huh me? Well..." Recalling Aha's words, Y couldn't help but let out a smirk. "An Emanator."

A/N:

Y has the knowledge of how to use his powers and how to fight, but to do so he needs to feed off of the source of his strength. Aha. He's hesitant to do so, that's why he's not overpowered. 

Aha also is testing him and watching his actions, without giving Y too much power. It would ruin the fun for him. 

A little short, but the next chapter will be longer, and it'll be released in 2 days time.