Star Rail: Starting with a Lyre, Living off Busking

In the frontier town of Getlow.

After hastily hiring a carriage at the station, Mimiya and her companions prepared to set out. By chance, their mission's client happened to be working at the same station to make ends meet.

The boy had been reluctant to approach them at first, visibly uneasy at the sight of adventurers. It wasn't until Zarius noticed his odd behavior and asked him a few questions that they realized the client was right in front of them.

He was a freckled, brown-haired boy with soft curls, his youthful face resembling that of any ordinary apprentice.

When he learned that they intended to deal with the goblins, the boy seemed conflicted—whether out of a desire to salvage his reputation or genuine remorse for abandoning his comrades, he chose to join Mimiya's group on their journey.

During the ride, he explained why he had been hiding at the station.

The mortality rate for solo adventurers was notoriously high, hovering around 70%. Encounters with remnants of the Demon Lord's forces were near-certain death. Faced with such odds, lone adventurers usually suspended their work or sought new parties to join.

As a warrior, he might have found refuge with other novice adventuring teams if he had been willing to swallow his pride.

But his circumstances were unique—he had abandoned his teammates and fled in terror during a goblin attack, a detail made public in the guild's mission notes.

Though the guild was sympathetic, understanding that novices often panicked under pressure, other adventurers weren't as forgiving. Someone who had once abandoned their comrades might do so again in future crises.

The rising intensity of monster conflicts meant adventurers often faced life-or-death situations. Trust in a teammate was paramount—no one wanted to risk their life relying on someone who had already proven unreliable.

As a result, his reputation plummeted. No one wanted to team up with him, and his visits to the guild were met with bullying and scorn. The boy, already timid by nature, stopped going altogether.

To survive, he found work at the station, eking out a living while waiting for someone—anyone—to take his request. But a week passed, and no one accepted the goblin extermination mission. He had nearly given up.

Then Mimiya's party, silver-ranked adventurers no less, decided to help. It felt like a stroke of luck after days of despair.

During the journey, the boy repeatedly expressed his gratitude, though this left the group feeling awkward. Mimiya, in particular, avoided his gaze, her head lowered in guilt.

Eventually, Zarius broke the tension by addressing the boy's remarks. Though the boy didn't voice any blame, he curled up, hugging his knees and muttering softly, "So weaklings like me are destined to just pray for luck, huh…"

His words unsettled Mimiya, stirring memories of the recent moment when her party had been saved by the Trailblazers.

For Mimiya and her companions, even facing something as dangerous as a troll felt insurmountable. If not for the Trailblazers' timely intervention, they would have been nothing more than a monster's meal.

Yet their survival had brought them glory in the town. People everywhere greeted them with respect.

But did they truly deserve it?

Mimiya couldn't say for sure.

It was the nature of the weak to admire the strong, to long for their courage and composure.

Once, Mimiya had dreamed of becoming like those legendary heroes, a vital member of some great tale.

But now, that dream felt distant.

Perhaps, for the strong, saving others from suffering was just a simple act. Yet who considered the burdens these "heroes" bore, the emotional weight hidden deep within their hearts?

That night, as the carriage sped along the road, Mimiya glimpsed something that stayed with her.

March 7th, whom she considered a true "hero," quietly wiped tears from her face, her whispered apologies carried away by the wind.

Why?

Why was someone who had saved others apologizing to those she saved?

Why?

Why did tears, filled with guilt, stream down her face like a broken string of pearls?

Why?

Why had she ever thought the strong must be like the heroes of legend?

---

When they arrived, Dan Heng was the first to spot them. He gave a slight nod, which seemed to alert March 7th. She quickly composed herself, though the slight redness around her eyes betrayed her earlier emotions. Still, she managed a smile, as cheerful as ever.

"Haha... You're finally here! Just like Venti said!"

"Sorry for the delay, Lady March…"

Zarius had also noticed her unusual demeanor. Even the young priestess, Fina, rushed over, her face filled with concern. She hesitated, however, when her gaze fell on the unconscious woman in Dan Heng's arms.

Zarius cleared his throat to change the subject.

"This must be the adventurer we were tasked to rescue?"

Hearing this, the boy perked up from where he had been sulking. He pushed through the group to see for himself.

"It's… Nisha!"

He gasped as he recognized his comrade. Wrapped tightly in Venti's green cloak, Nisha's face was gaunt, her exposed skin bearing scars and signs of prolonged torment. Yet her breathing was steady as she slept.

The boy's trembling hands reached out to touch her, but March 7th stepped in.

"Wait. She's not in any condition to be touched… And you are?"

The boy, too caught up in the moment to notice her wariness, quickly introduced himself.

"I'm the client! The one who issued the mission. The woman you're holding is one of my missing teammates!"

He paused, scanning the group anxiously.

"Where are the other two?"

March 7th faltered. Avoiding his gaze, she reluctantly pulled a white porcelain adventurer tag from her pocket, the name Shumi etched on its back.

"This tag belonged to one of them. We found her… and another adventurer locked in the same cell. They didn't make it."

"…No."

The boy stared blankly at the tag, his hands trembling.

"We waited so long for help… but Shumi and Phi are gone?"

The weight of his grief silenced everyone.

Finally, Fina spoke up gently. "May I check her wounds? She seems stable, but a detailed examination is still important…"

She glanced hesitantly at March 7th, her tone almost pleading. "If possible, Lady March, could you assist me? Even just watching over would mean a lot."

"…Alright." March 7th nodded.

March 7th nodded absentmindedly, her mind elsewhere, while Dan Heng resumed his usual task of guarding the carriage, vigilant against any potential attacks from wild animals.

Meanwhile, Mimiya, Zarius, and the young warrior entered the cave to reunite with the others. Whether it was to recover the bodies of the fallen or lend a helping hand, anything felt better than standing idle outside.

Halfway through the cave, however, the young warrior began to falter. Covering his nose, he grimaced.

"Ugh, the smell of blood here is overwhelming!"

His face twisted in horror as his gaze darted around the stone walls stained with splatters of crimson. His boots squelched against something fleshy and unrecognizable beneath him.

"Judging by the corpses scattered here, it seems Venti and the others were ambushed," Zarius observed as he crouched to inspect the remains.

Carefully examining the goblin bodies, he noted something peculiar.

"Hmm, there are injuries that don't match the weapons used by their group. It seems our 'Goblin Slayer' friend was indeed here. Also…" Zarius sniffed the air lightly. "Is that... flammable oil I'm smelling? Looks like they used fire to take them down."

At that moment, Mimiya closed her eyes, sensing the wind currents within the cave.

"The wind spirits are restless," she said after a pause. "It feels like they're being funneled deeper into the cave."

Guided by the wind's subtle cues, the group pressed onward, quickly navigating the maze-like structure with little difficulty.

When they finally reached the goblin nest, they were met with a strange sight.

A man clad in worn, battered armor was methodically piling up charred goblin corpses, counting under his breath.

"...Fifty-two," he muttered.

"Is that… Orcbolg?" Mimiya asked hesitantly, studying the figure. She found it hard to reconcile this image with the legendary figure whispered about in songs and tales.

"Orcbolg?" Zarius asked, raising an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"It's just the literal translation of his elven name, Orcbolg," Mimiya explained sheepishly.

Before Zarius could respond, a quiet voice interrupted them.

"What's going on here?"

They turned to see Stelle emerging from the shadows, her soot-marked face calm as ever. Despite the dim cave lighting, her ash-gray hair seemed to radiate a gentle glow.

"Orcbolg," Mimiya repeated, startled by Stelle's sudden appearance.

Stelle's quiet presence didn't unnerve her nearly as much as the figure behind her: Venti. Unlike his usual bardic attire, Venti's appearance now leaned more toward a rogue's, exuding a relaxed yet sharp charisma.

"Olah!" Venti greeted with a playful wave.

"Eh? What does that mean?" Mimiya asked, confused.

"Hehe, it's a greeting used by a species called Hilichurls," Venti explained with a mischievous wink, clearly enjoying himself. "Once we're done here, you'll have to teach me about elven culture too. The more inspiration I have for my songs, the better!"

"That's… fine, but maybe now's not the time?" Mimiya replied, glancing nervously at the Goblin Slayer, whose intense presence was impossible to ignore.

"Fifty-three," Goblin Slayer intoned, adding another corpse to the pile.

"Does that mean you've wiped out all the goblins in this cave?" Zarius asked.

Venti grinned, puffing out his chest in mock pride. "Of course! With me here, not a single one got away!"

The Goblin Slayer nodded in agreement. "This time, the efficiency was exceptional. There wasn't a single survivor."

For the typically stoic Goblin Slayer, his tone betrayed a rare hint of satisfaction.

"Well then, time to officially seal the deal!" Venti said, skipping over to him and extending a hand. "—Good teamwork!"

"Good…" Goblin Slayer hesitated, staring at Venti's clean, outstretched hand and then at his own, grimy and bloodstained.

Just as he seemed ready to refuse, Venti clasped his hand anyway, unfazed by the filth. Stelle joined in as well, placing her hand atop theirs.

"...Teamwork," Goblin Slayer finally said.

Though his expression remained neutral, there was the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Seeing this, the young priestess hurried forward with a pout. "Wait a second! Even though I didn't do much to help, you can't leave me out of this!"

Her flushed cheeks and earnest expression softened the mood, drawing quiet chuckles from the group.

Watching this lighthearted exchange, Zarius and Mimiya shared a knowing glance. While part of them felt the weight of their own inexperience, another part couldn't help but admire the Trailblazers.

This was what March 7th had meant by their unique "style"—approaching every situation with warmth, forging bonds wherever they went.

Perhaps, Mimiya thought, their greatest strength wasn't just their power but the freedom with which they embraced the world and its people.

That realization lightened her heart.

Not everyone shared the same sentiment, however.

The young warrior knelt beside the recovered adventurer corpses. One was a male shield-bearer, the other a female mage. Neither had survived.

Clutching the adventurer tags in trembling hands, he stared at the bodies, his head hung low in despair. He looked like a lost traveler, unsure of where to go next.

The others left him to grieve. Such losses were all too common in their line of work, and the fact that one teammate had survived was already a miracle.

The guild had sent additional carriages to assist with the aftermath. By the time dawn broke, the group was ready to return to town.

---

In the bustling guild tavern, a middle-aged man entered. His attire was immaculate, his demeanor calm, and he adjusted his glasses with practiced precision.

It was clear from his composed presence that he was no ordinary patron.

---

Hello! Thank you so much for reading this chapter. WiseTL has worked hard to bring these wonderful stories to you, and I'm so happy we could share this moment together! Don't you think stories are a little like dreams? Each one has its own colors and shapes, and they grow even brighter when shared with others.

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