Honkai: Star Rail — Kamen Rider!

Straton III—a small planet orbiting near the medical world Zieltworth.

Its civilization was barely developed, only just stepping into contact with the interstellar age.

Across the entire planet, ships capable of true long-range star-voyages numbered less than a few dozen.

And yet, today, no one knew how or why—but hundreds of luxurious starships descended from the galaxy above, forced to make landing on this tiny world.

It nearly scared Straton's leaders to death.

Think about it: you're eating hotpot, singing songs at home—then suddenly tanks roll into your backyard.

Who wouldn't be stunned senseless?

That was the situation.

These vessels might have been "transport and voyage craft" in the galactic market, but their level of civilization was enough to crush Straton like an ant.

The leaders trembled, gathered in full force, and waited for whoever would step out to speak.

And did they intend to resist with every weapon on the planet?

No. Absolutely not.

Their plan, the instant these people appeared, was to fall to their knees and welcome them.

Because even a single one of those ships had defenses their entire world's arsenal could not scratch.

They could rain down every missile they had—and still not pierce one shield.

And here were hundreds. Some even more lavish.

So what resistance?

Better to yield at once, save themselves some spiritual torment.

But what none of them expected was when the ships opened, those who stepped out neither sought to colonize nor to seize Straton's scarce resources.

All they wanted… was to use this place as a temporary foothold.

"Don't worry. We didn't just drop here for nothing. When this is all over, we'll pay you three million credits for borrowing this land."

Wait. What?

The leaders blinked, wondering if they had heard wrong, scratching at their ears.

Three million credits.

This planet's entire yearly production, according to Interastral Peace Corporation valuations, was worth about three hundred thousand.

That was why IPC had judged them unworthy of development.

And yet—these newcomers offered ten years of Straton's total output. Upfront. For using a bit of land.

Were they dreaming?

"…What, not enough?" The Fyrefly who had come forward frowned.

Should she add more?

After all, it was the fleet's wealthy patrons footing the bill.

"No no no, enough! More than enough!"

"Good. Then leave this ground to us. Unless it's truly necessary, don't disturb us."

With that, she turned back, to confer with Mitsutake on the next step.

The Straton people left behind could only stand dazed.

At first they had thought themselves victims of galactic pirates, or some other predatory force.

But instead—they had stumbled into a windfall.

"…Wait," one voice broke in, "what if this isn't random? What if some great figure out in the galaxy… noticed us?"

Otherwise, why would such fortune fall on their barren home?

The crowd exchanged glances.

Yes. That must be it.

Some great being had chosen to bless their backwater world, giving them this wealth as a gift.

Three million credits—enough to vault their civilization up an entire rung overnight.

Their benefactor.

"Our benefactor's name—we must learn it. Otherwise, how will we give thanks?"

"But they said not to disturb them—"

"Idiot. They said don't bother them. Not that we can't listen."

So they crept to the camp's edge, ears straining.

"We don't know how Sora is doing. That guy just ordered us here without explanation."

"Yeah. Always does whatever he pleases. Made us travel this far…"

Hearing the women speak, faces eerily similar, the Straton people realized the truth.

Their savior, their benefactor—the one named Hoshigaki Sora.

Yes. They would remember this name.

"When this great one visits our world, we must welcome him with full honors."

This was no ordinary man—this was a galactic giant, who had gifted them ten years of resources at a whim.

They would cling tightly to that leg of his.

The people of Straton schemed and whispered about how best to embrace this mighty patron.

Meanwhile, farther off, another squad of Fyrefly armor regrouped.

Their worries lay not with Straton—but with the fleet's plight.

"If we want to reach the Zieltworth region again… it may take far too long."

"And the ships barely have the energy for even one more journey."

The breaking of the planetary curtain had drained most of their reserves.

Now, nearly empty, they had little means to cross back to Zieltworth's domain.

"…So we just sit here? Watching?" Asatsuba frowned.

Wait, while the battle raged in the distance?

If something happened there—would they simply watch helpless?

She remembered her own words: "Sora is watching over us."

And now… truly, all she could do was watch.

"But reality stands before us. How can we cross?" Unkyō's voice was heavy.

No energy, no return. That was the fact.

"…What if we combined every ship's fuel together?" Mitsutake said.

"If we could reach Zieltworth's outskirts, from there, our own strength could carry us through."

Every one of them, plus Fyrefly armor, could survive adrift in the void.

"But then our reserves would be—"

"That isn't what matters now." Mitsutake's eyes fixed the speaker.

"He pulled us free of that world. And now he fights there alone. It's unacceptable."

Her voice sharpened.

"He gave us a future. Even if we die, we die at his side."

"We cannot let the one who saved us give everything, while we enjoy safety alone."

A hush fell. But the unspoken oath was clear.

If death awaited, it would be together, on the battlefield.

So they tallied every drop of fuel left.

And to their grim delight—

"…It's barely enough. If we calculate right, we can reach the Zieltworth system's edge."

Unkyō pointed at the map.

"From here, if we launch, we can make it to the planet."

Extreme, yes. But possible.

They set to work at once—gathering, rationing, preparing to rejoin Sora.

They made no attempt to hide their plan.

Which drew protest.

"If you leave, what about us? If danger comes, what then?"

The Glamoth Knights were their protectors. If they left—only the old, the weak, the infirm remained.

"And you're taking all the fuel. How do we survive?"

Mitsutake fell silent. Her resolve did not waver. She would go to Sora's side.

But the problem of leaving others defenseless—

"Leave it to me."

A man stepped forward.

Armored, spear in hand, standing tall.

"By Idrila, I swear—this planet will be safe under my guard!"

The sudden appearance of Argenti left both sides startled.

And Unkyō quickly noticed who stood beside him—Robin.

Of course. She had brought him here.

"You made no effort to hide yourselves. I knew you'd try to follow him back into danger," Robin said helplessly.

Argenti's eyes shone.

"Your resolve, your actions—they blossom with such beauty before me. How could I not lend my hand to aid you?"

"…But can you truly?" someone asked, uneasy.

"No need for doubt." Argenti bowed like a knight.

He raised his spear, chest high, voice ringing:

"For the sake of defending beauty in the galaxy, for the sake of bearing witness to pure beauty, I will fight until my life's end."

Medals shimmered around him—tokens of trials undergone, proof of his honor as a Knight of Beauty.

Ordinarily treasured, never displayed.

But now Argenti bared them all, unleashing Idrila's pure Beauty to cover the entire planet.

"…A Knight of Beauty…" Mitsutake murmured, struck speechless.

Everyone knew: Idrila had fallen. The medals, once spent, could never be restored.

For the Knights, they were the last thread tying them to their god.

And Argenti now burned them freely—to defend this little world.

"It doesn't matter. To sacrifice for companions, to strike down every thorn before such beauty—of course I must."

He stood firm before them, a silver figure radiant as a star.

"Go. Go to your companion's side."