Star Rail: Starting with a Lyre, Living off Busking

"Wow, the streets in the Overworld are so big… and there are so many things I don't even know the names of… my eyes can't take it all in…"

Clara looked around wide-eyed, while Svarog walked silently beside her, remaining ever watchful.

The crimson glow in the sky was unmistakably from the Fragmentum seed. And though Svarog understood the bard's strategy, he hadn't expected this.

He knew the bard would find a way to shake up Belobog's stagnant state, but the method surprised him—introducing a powerful external force to pressure the Supreme Guardian into making a choice. If she still held her commitment to preservation, she would prove it through her actions.

If not, if she abandoned all responsibility and chose destruction, then the Architects would be forced to invoke the "Emergency Proxy Act," and Bronya would inevitably rise as the rightful successor.

The bard's favored group, Wildfire, wouldn't miss such an opportunity.

This crisis could bring them out of the shadows, giving them a voice.

By doing so, the Underworld and Overworld could begin to reconcile, and resources could be better allocated, helping Belobog reclaim its strength.

But these efforts alone wouldn't be enough.

As long as the Stellaron and the Fragmentum remained, the cold wave would not relent, and monsters would continue to emerge.

Belobog would remain under threat.

Whether they walked a crooked path or the right one, all roads would eventually lead to the city's ruin.

To truly escape this deadlock, the bard would need to reveal his true strength…

The very power he sang about in his verses—the strength to disperse the storm, split mountains, and carve plains.

Only then could the people catch a breath, finally allowing them to choose their future.

Svarog observed carefully, answering Clara's occasional questions as they moved through the abandoned pipeline network. They reached the edge of the Inner City just before nightfall.

And here, they finally saw others.

It was a squad of Silvermane Guards, each member bearing fresh, serious wounds.

One soldier lay gravely injured with a moderate concussion, a shattered right arm, and multiple cuts. The worst wound, a deep gash across his chest and abdomen, bled freely, endangering his life.

Without immediate aid, Svarog calculated that he would die in approximately seven minutes and thirty-six seconds.

As he shared his assessment with Clara, the compassionate girl immediately pleaded, "Mr. Svarog, can we help them?"

"…I am not a medical unit. I can only administer basic first aid to restore limited consciousness. If no doctor is found soon, this individual will succumb to blood loss within thirty minutes."

"Please! Any time you can give him—at least enough to get him to a doctor!"

Clara quickly climbed down from Svarog's arm, her trust in his abilities apparent. She knew Svarog's versatile hand could transform to handle any number of tasks, from drying her hair with a built-in hairdryer to cutting rocks into furniture.

Surely, an emergency medical device was also within his capabilities.

Svarog nodded in acknowledgment.

"Understood. Adjusting route. Priority is now assigned to provide emergency care for Silvermane Guard in need."

The towering metal figure drew the Guards' attention immediately, causing them to gather defensively, shielding the wounded soldier with their weapons aimed squarely at Svarog.

The acting captain regarded him with suspicion and called out in a stern voice,

"Automaton ahead—stop immediately! Identify your model number!"

They had just survived a battle with Fragmentum replicas, and they weren't eager to face a new threat, especially one of this size.

Before the large automaton could respond, a small voice piped up as a timid girl peered out from behind him.

"Um, Mr. Svarog is a good person. He won't hurt you… Please, could you put your weapons down?"

"Svarog? Is that his name? And wait—why is there a child out here…?"

Relief visibly washed over the Guards, easing their tension.

The acting captain looked at the unusual duo—a towering robot and a small girl with an almost father-daughter-like bond—and asked with a softer tone,

"You two are headed to the Inner City for safety, right?"

"Yes, sir! Mr. Svarog and I are here to find my sister."

"To find your sister… you got separated from family, did you? That's rough. Don't worry; we'll escort you both to a secure shelter. I'm sure she'll be waiting for you there."

"Th-thank you so much!"

Clara's small, sweet appearance clearly invoked a protective instinct in the Guards. Her gentle charm helped the conversation flow smoothly, allowing Svarog to gain the Guards' trust and move closer to the injured soldier without undue scrutiny.

But as Svarog approached the wounded captain, the acting commander noticed and asked,

"You're Svarog, right? You don't look like a medical unit—why approach the captain?"

"I can provide temporary aid. Without intervention, this individual's survival probability is no higher than 0.21658%."

Svarog's words circulated among the Guards, who exchanged uneasy glances. The acting captain responded in a heavy voice,

"So, you can save him?"

"No. But I can slow the progression of his shock from blood loss."

With a smooth shift, Svarog's palm transformed into an emergency medical device as he knelt down and calmly began the life-saving procedure under the wary eyes of the Guards.

The captain's breathing stabilized, and his pain-stricken face eased somewhat as the analgesic took effect, though this didn't mean he was out of danger.

Choosing a suitable place to evacuate him now was essential.

Following the Guards' lead, they made their way to a large shelter on the Inner City's outskirts.

Throughout the journey, Clara was asked multiple times if her bare feet were cold, with some Guards even offering her their coats to cover them.

She politely declined each offer, tucking her toes together shyly and hiding behind Svarog's arm for comfort.

Eventually, though, she settled back onto Svarog's arm, burying her face into him, flushed with embarrassment.

Svarog, however, noticed something more around them—a shadowed figure slipping through the building's shadows with ghostly grace.

"…"

A quick scan confirmed it was none other than "Butterfly," the Wildfire operative known as Seele.

So, Wildfire had already begun their plan of action.

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Thanks for reading! Let me know if you spot any mistakes or inconsistencies!

Posture and water check! Remember this is a fan translation!

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