Honkai Star Rail: Chained to the Aeon of Elation

Y's arrival on Kalsas was anything but subtle. His pod streaked through the sky like a rogue firework before crash-landing in the middle of what appeared to be a bustling park. The door to the pod groaned as it was kicked open, steam hissing as Y stepped out into the light of day. Dusting off his jacket, he looked around and took in the scene - a lush, colourful world full of vibrancy and activity.

A far cry from the dreary and violent worlds he was used to. Y stretched his arms overhead, taking a deep breath of the planet's strangely crisp air. "Finally, not a dystopian sci-fi hellhole, points for atmosphere." he muttered to himself with a rare smile.

The smile faded slightly as he noticed the growing number of eyes staring at him. Parents ushered their children behind them while others whispered in hushed tones, their attention darting between Y and the smouldering wreckage of his space pod.

Y raised an eyebrow at their behaviour but shrugged it off. He wandered toward a nearby statue of what seemed to be a historical figure.

'Hmm. Bold choice to go with a double chin for a public monument. Really adds... authority.'

As he inspected the craftsmanship, the murmurs grew louder. He glanced over his shoulder to see a few Claymen actively shielding their children from his gaze.

He smirked, resting a hand on his hip. "What? I know I'm good-looking, but there's no need to stare that hard. It's kind of embarrassing."

One of the braver ones shouted back, "Like hell we're staring because of that!"

Y tilted his head in mock confusion. "Oh? Then why?"

The crowd collectively pointed to the smoking, wrecked pod behind him. Y blinked, then turned to see his pod - now an eyesore in the middle of the pristine park, surrounded by scorch marks and snapped branches. Realisation dawned on him and scratched the back of his head. "Oh, right. Forgot about that.".

"HOW DO YOU FORGET SOMETHING LIKE THAT?!" They screamed in unison, veins - did they have veins? - bulging in fury.

"Meh. Just leave it there," Y replied with a dismissive wave. He began walking off toward a path, ignoring the continuing shouts of outrage behind him.

As he made his way through the park, a small Clayboy darted out from the crowd and followed him. The boy, Jno, stared at Y with wide, sparkly eyes, clearly enamoured. Y didn't notice the kid at first, as he had his eyes on a random Clayman nearby, who was backing away nervously.

Ignoring the stranger's reaction, Y asked, "So, uh, any idea where I can clean up around here? I think I've got crash debris stuck in my hair."

The man stammered something unintelligible before frantically pointing toward a path that seemed to lead out of the park. Y nodded, muttering a "Thanks," and started walking again, this time noticing Jno trailing behind him.

He glanced down at the boy. "Why are you following me, kid?"

Jno's eyes sparkled even more. "I want to hear about your journey and adventures! You look so cool!"

Y stopped walking, looking at Jno with a sly grin. "Cool, huh? Well, I am pretty awesome. Tell you what - I'll trade you a story for a favour."

Jno's face lit up with excitement. "Anything!"

"Good. Here." Y handed him a few credits. "Go get me a set of clothes and bring them back to that area over there. Surprise me with the outfit - adventurers need good taste, after all."

Jno saluted like a soldier. "You got it!"

As Jno dashed off, Y continued on his way. He eventually came across a restricted area surrounded by large, clear warning signs: KEEP OUT and DANGER: WATER BEYOND THIS POINT. The signs were accompanied by pictures of melting clay figures. Y raised an eyebrow at the dramatic imagery.

"Well, that's inviting," he muttered, already scaling over the rocks like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Landing on the other side, he found himself in front of a small lake surrounded by overgrown foliage. The water glistened under the sunlight, and Y couldn't help but let out a low whistle. "Not bad."

He stripped off his dusty, bloodstained clothes and dipped into the water. The coolness of the lake felt refreshing, washing away both the grime from his previous battles and the faint traces of guilt he refused to admit were still lingering.

After a good soak, he got out and was drying off with a tattered piece of cloth he found in the pod when Jno came running back, holding a bundle of clothes. The boy stood just outside the restricted zone, clearly not willing to risk the water.

"Got the goods?" Y called out.

"Yeah!" The boy shouted, handing him the clothes, which were slightly oversized but comfortable. "I hope you like it! I guessed your size based on how big your shoulders are," Jno explained proudly.

Y inspected the outfit - a bit flashy for his tastes, but it would do. After putting it on, he sat down on a rock near the warning signs, motioning for Jno to sit.

"Alright, kid. You earned yourself a story," Y said, cracking his knuckles.

As Y sat perched on a rock outside the area, his new outfit surprisingly comfortable despite the kid's questionable taste, he glanced down at Jno, who was seated cross-legged and practically bouncing with anticipation. Y chuckled, leaning back and propping himself up with his hands.

"Alright, kid, here's a story. Once upon a time, there was a dashing, fearless, ridiculously good-looking guy. Let's call him… uh… Z. Yeah, Z. He was walking through this dangerous alien jungle on some backwater planet that had plants so big they could probably eat a small spaceship. You with me so far?"

Jno nodded enthusiastically.

"Good. Now, Z wasn't just strolling through this jungle for fun. Oh no. He was hunting for a treasure - legendary stuff. The Lost Crown, supposedly hidden in the ruins of a long-forgotten temple. But, naturally, nothing is ever easy. The jungle was teeming with dangers. Giant lizards that could camouflage like pros, plants that spit acid, and, worst of all, these tiny little bugs that loved to buzz around his head. They weren't dangerous, just really annoying."

Y paused, shaking his head as if reliving the frustration. "And of course, no bug spray. Classic rookie mistake."

Jno giggled, and Y smirked, encouraged.

"So there's Z, machete in hand, cutting through vines and swatting bugs like his life depended on it. Finally, after what felt like hours, he stumbled upon the temple. It's all ancient and creepy - crumbling walls, weird glowing runes, the works. But Z's no coward. He's ready for whatever nonsense the temple's got in store. Or so he thinks."

Y leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. "The moment he steps inside, BAM! The door slams shut behind him, and the whole place starts shaking. Then, from the shadows, this giant robot guardian stomps out. It's like… ten feet tall, covered in spikes, glowing eyes - just the kind of thing you don't want to meet in a dark ruin. And it's got one job; keep intruders out."

Jno gasped. "What did Z do?"

"Ha! What didn't he do? First, he tried talking to it, you know, because maybe it had a personality. Didn't work. Then, he thought about running, but that thing was faster than it looked. So, Z did what any sensible person would do in a situation like that."

"What?" Jno asked, eyes wide.

"He tripped and accidentally set off another trap!" Y laughed, leaning back as if amused by his own tale. "A bunch of spears shot out of the walls, but instead of hitting Z, they all slammed into the robot. Turned out, the traps weren't too picky about who they were aiming at. The guardian short-circuited and fell over like a sack of rocks."

Jno clapped his hands, completely invested. "And then he got the treasure?"

"Not quite," Y said, wagging a finger. "See, Z was feeling pretty good about himself after that. He found the treasure room - the crown sitting right there on a pedestal. Shiny, covered in jewels, looked like it was worth a fortune. But the second he grabbed it, the whole temple started collapsing. Classic, right? So now Z's running for his life, dodging falling rocks and avoiding pits of lava - yes, there was lava, because of course there was."

Jno gasped again, leaning forward.

"And just when it seemed like he wouldn't make it, Z used the oldest trick in the book - dumb luck. He tripped over a vine - again - and fell out of the collapsing temple just before it caved in completely. Dust everywhere, sky visible, and Z laying flat on his back with the crown in his hand. A little bruised, a lot dirty, but alive."

Jno laughed. "That's amazing! What happened to the crown?"

Y shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Eh, he sold it. Bought himself a new ship and some decent bug spray. And that's the story of Z and the Temple of the Lost Crown."

Jno clapped, thoroughly entertained. "You're the coolest! Was that… was that you?"

Y smirked, ruffling the kid's clay hair. "Let's just say I know a guy."

'I definitely didn't steal that story from somewhere...'

Before they could say more, a group of uniformed individuals approached - the unmistakable emblem of the IPC gleaming on their outfits. One of them stepped forward, their expression stern. "Emanator Y, we need to have a word."

Y raised an eyebrow, smirking as he stretched lazily. "Do you guys always make things sound so serious? Fine, lead the way."

He turned to Jno and gave the boy a small wave. "Stay out of trouble, alright? This planet needs more weirdos like you."

Jno waved back enthusiastically as Y followed the three IPC representatives to the Royal Council Chamber of Claymen. As they walked, Y couldn't help but throw a few choice jabs just to see how far he could push their patience.

'Not my fault their rigid, corporate demeanour makes them prime targets for a little fun.'

"So," He began, his voice echoing against the chamber's polished clay walls, "is it true that the IPC's motto is, 'Profit above all?' Or was that just a rumour? Because, honestly, it fits."

The lead agent, impeccably dressed with a gold badge denoting a high-ranking position, shot Y a warning glare. "Our mission is to maintain peace and stability throughout the galaxy. Your sarcasm is unnecessary."

"Peace and stability, huh?" Y said, pretending to mull over the phrase. "Is that why you're always slapping debts on people for breathing too hard on an IPC-registered planet? Or wait - let me guess. You charge for the oxygen, don't you? 'Breathe responsibly, or face a fine.' Am I close?"

"That's enough." The agent said, though his shoulders twitched in what might've been irritation.

But Y wasn't done. "Alright, alright, I get it. Serious business. So, quick question - how many planets do you guys 'manage' now? I mean, I saw your little map. It's basically everywhere. Tell me, do you have secret agents hiding on Jarilo-VI? Or are you still trying to figure out how to invoice the robots there?"

One of the junior agents, a younger clayman with a visibly exasperated expression, sighed. "The IPC doesn't disclose its internal operations to unauthorized individuals."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm unauthorized - yada, yada," Y said with a dismissive wave. "But let's be real. You're practically a universal HOA, right? Managing everything from parking permits to planetary trade routes. I'm just curious - do you guys have a corporate manual for how to look this uptight, or does it come naturally?"

The junior agent bristled. "We are the backbone of galactic order! Without the IPC, commerce, transportation, and security across the stars would collapse!"

"Cob," the third agent, who had remained silent throughout the entire exchange, finally spoke, his deep voice cutting through the tension. Turning to the junior agent, he said firmly, "Stay calm. Don't let him get under your skin."

"...Understood"

Despite their irritation, Y took no offence and directed his attention elsewhere. He couldn't help but marvel at the vibrancy of Kalsas. The Claymen, for all their strangeness, were full of life and joy, so unlike the places he'd been before. Seeing their transformations and community made him feel - well, maybe not hopeful, but at least… amused.

"Not bad, Kalsas," Y muttered to himself, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Not bad at all."

-----

Walking up the wide, ornate stairs and entering the polished building, Y stepped into a room where four people were seated around a table, their voices filled with frustration. It didn't take long for Y to figure out what was happening - a communication breakdown thanks to a language barrier. Amateurs, he thought, smirking. Despite the confusion, Y could understand both sides perfectly fine.

He was then introduced to the IPC Consultant, a middle-aged man with slicked-back hair and an air of self-importance that was practically suffocating. The consultant wasted no time. He adjusted his tie, leaned forward, and addressed Y with a voice dripping in rehearsed professionalism.

"You're the Emanator who slaughtered 264 of our finest bounty hunters," he said.

Y let out a low whistle and casually leaned against the doorframe. "News sure spreads fast. It's been, what, a day? You've got a great PR team. Give them a raise."

The consultant's eye twitched, but he composed himself quickly and gestured to the agents nearby. "Escort him to the next room."

Y followed them, already guessing the game they were about to play.

'Oh, great. The 'Let's Make a Deal' routine.'

He knew their goal - either rope him into working for the IPC or turn him into their personal tool. Y couldn't help but chuckle to himself.

'Do they really think this'll work? Even Nous' Emanator didn't fall for this crap.'

Once in the new room, Y found himself alone with two different agents who were as stiff as statues. Spotting a shelf lined with books that were undoubtedly for show, he grabbed one and sprawled across the sofa, flipping through it lazily. It was a dry manual about interstellar trade laws, but Y found ways to entertain himself. 

"Wow, riveting stuff. Who knew you needed a permit to import… fruit? Did you guys write this masterpiece yourselves?" Y said through a mouthful of biscuits he'd helped himself to from a nearby tray.

One agent clenched his fists. The other muttered something under his breath that Y chose to ignore. After all, it wasn't his fault they were so uptight.

Y flipped another page and sighed dramatically. "Honestly, I'd rather read cereal box labels. You guys eat cereal, right? Or is that against IPC policy too?"

Eventually, the consultant returned, much to the relief of the other two agents. Walking in with an air of fabricated humility, "Apologies for the delay," he began, introducing himself as Rex. "I've reviewed your…case."

"Case? Oh, I didn't realize I was on trial." Y smirked, sitting up just enough to look somewhat engaged.

Rex ignored the comment and continued. "Your actions - killing over 260 of our bounty hunters - should warrant imprisonment. However…" He paused for effect, as if expecting Y to feel grateful. "…I've decided to offer you an alternative."

He placed a thick stack of papers - a contract - on the table and slid it toward Y. "Sign this, and you'll work for the IPC as a Peacemaker."

"Peacemaker?" Y raised an eyebrow. "That's a fancy way of saying 'errand boy.'"

"It's an opportunity," Rex said, his tone tightening.

Y picked up the contract, skimming through the fine print. It didn't take long for him to spot the traps - clauses that would strip him of autonomy, exploit his powers, and bind him to the IPC indefinitely.

There was also a vague but ominous section about "physical property rights."

He chuckled darkly, black lightning dancing around the pages. Without hesitation, he burned the contract to ashes.

"Nice try," Y said, brushing his hands off. "But I'd rather not become your tool. Besides, I'm not like the poor fools on this planet."

Rex's poker face slipped for a split second, but he quickly recovered. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Oh, please." Y waved a hand dismissively. "You're here to 'protect' the Clayforms, but we both know the real reason. You're just here to leech off their resources. Typical IPC behaviour."

The room fell silent. Rex's face reddened, his calm veneer cracking. Behind him, the two agents visibly bristled, their fists clenching as they struggled to keep their composure.

'Oh, this is fun.'

Y leaned back, enjoying their discomfort. "You know, it's kind of cute how you all try to act like heroes. But honestly, you're just interstellar vultures in suits."

"How dare you-" one agent began, but Rex raised a hand to silence him.

Y wasn't done, though. "Oh, and speaking of vultures, how's business on Neomatrix? Or should I say, how's the cover-up going?"

Rex's head snapped toward him. "How do you know about Neomatrix?"

"Or maybe let's talk about Fissara? Or that little mining scandal on Vortex Prime?" Y said, grinning. "You think nobody's watching, but some of us have better things to do than sit in corporate boardrooms pretending to care."

Rex stood up abruptly, slamming his hands on the table. "Enough! How do you know all this?"

"Because I'm an Emanator. I know about everything Aha has glanced at, including your pathetic little organisation. You have no idea how cramped it is up here." He tapped his temple.

Finally, Y leaned forward, his tone shifting to something colder, sharper. "You think you can manipulate me? Use me? Don't make me laugh. You're nothing but ignorant children playing a game you don't understand. You have no idea what's really out there. You're just gnats buzzing around something far beyond your comprehension."

As Y spoke, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. The two agents began to tremble, beads of sweat forming on their foreheads. They hadn't noticed until now, but thin, white strings had appeared all around the room, shimmering faintly. They were everywhere - coiled around furniture, looping through the air, even brushing against their uniforms.

And that realisation sent a chill down their spines.

The pressure was suffocating. One agent let out a quiet groan, his knees buckling, while the other clutched a nearby table for support. Rex bit his lip so hard it drew blood, his face pale as he struggled to maintain his composure.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the tension vanished. Y relaxed back into his seat, crossing his legs and twirling a biscuit between his fingers. "Anyway, I've got a deal for you."

The IPC agents stared at him, too shaken to respond.

"It's simple," Y continued. "I won't cause too much trouble for the next year. In return, you'll do a few favours for me. Information, resources, nothing too outrageous. Oh, and I'll take on the occasional bounty - just to keep things interesting."

Rex hesitated, clearly weighing his options. Finally, he nodded. "Fine. We accept."

As they began muttering amongst themselves, Y got up and stretched, heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" Rex asked.

"To introduce myself to the King and Queen," Y said casually. Then, over his shoulder, he added with a grin, "Oh, and tell your bosses I'm flattered they're keeping tabs on me. Really warms my heart."

And with that, he strolled out.

As the heavy door closed behind Y, a suffocating silence filled the room. Rex, who had been holding himself together by sheer willpower, collapsed onto the sofa with a heavy thud. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a trembling hand, his sharp, polished demeanour completely shattered.

The two agents who had been in the room with him were no better. Both had sunk to the floor, backs pressed against the cold walls, their faces pale and drawn. One of them muttered, "I couldn't breathe… it was like the air got ripped out of the room…"

Rex let out a shaky exhale, his eyes staring blankly at the floor. "It went exactly as she said it would…" he murmured under his breath, almost as if trying to convince himself he was still alive.

-----

Flashback: Before Rex Entered the Room

Rex paced the hallway outside the negotiation chamber, his phone pressed tightly to his ear. The usually unshakable IPC Consultant found his nerves tested in a way he hadn't experienced in years.

A composed, authoritative female voice came through the line. "Oh, he's on Kalsas," she said, her tone laced with mild curiosity.

"Yes, ma'am," Rex replied, trying to keep his voice steady. "How would you like me to proceed?"

There was a pause, the kind of silence that stretched uncomfortably long and made Rex wonder if the call had dropped. Finally, she spoke again.

"Use the regular contract on him. It most likely won't work - he's too clever for that - but we need to follow protocol. If he declines, leave him be. But," her voice grew colder, sharper, "if he threatens the IPC, listen to his demands. If they're not outrageous, accept them. But stay on guard. He is an Emanator, after all."

Rex swallowed hard. He had hoped for a more decisive plan, something concrete. Instead, her words only fueled his anxiety.

"Are the sources true?" he asked cautiously. "He's Aha's Emanator?"

"Apparently so," she replied, her voice carrying a note of gravity. "But don't let his happy-go-lucky attitude fool you. You're no match for him. He's probably just as unpredictable as the Aeon."

Rex felt a chill run down his spine. The very mention of Aha sent a wave of unease through anyone in the IPC, and now he was about to face someone directly tied to that chaos.

"I understand," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Good. And Rex, don't do anything stupid. He won't hesitate to deal with you if you push him too far. You've read the reports - you know what he's capable of." She added. 

"I won't. I promise."

"Good luck." The line went dead.

Rex lowered the phone, staring at it for a moment before slipping it back into his pocket. Taking a deep breath, he adjusted his tie, squared his shoulders, and prepared to step into the room.

A/N:

Done, The next chapter will be after 2 year time skip where he'll now be referred to Azriel. He'll join the Astral Express, and you'll probably be a little surprised as for his reasons.

One of the characters in this chapter is not an OC, but you probably won't see them again for 100 Chapters. Can you guess who?

I haven't said this, but Azriel's elements are both Imaginary and Lightning.