(T/N): EIGHT chapters today because I found out hyacine is having a rerun for next patch! And make sure to redeem those codes for extra jades!
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"An accident? You white-haired brat, with two geniuses backing you, what kind of accident could possibly happen?"
Herta snorted coldly.
"I truly hope you can bring me something different!"
She reined in her playful expression, her face turning serious.
"Are you ready? It's about to begin!"
As her voice fell, Herta pressed the start button, giving Phainon no time to respond.
The pyramid-shaped Simulated Universe device suddenly erupted with dazzling light.
Phainon's consciousness was forcibly torn out by a mysterious force.
There was no dizziness from spatial warping.
Nor was there the weightlessness of falling into a dream.
It was a kind of "degradation."
A sense of deprivation, like falling from three dimensions to two.
The world in his eyes lost their "thickness," becoming a bizarre, flat painting, all sense of three-dimensionality mercilessly erased.
When his vision cleared, he opened his eyes.
Twisted and magnificent vortex cores spread out endlessly before him, the galaxy transformed into an ethereal canvas, imprinted with twelve Titan imprints.
Among them, the "Ages" and "Burden" imprints were dim and lifeless.
Creation Vortex Core?
Phainon scrutinized himself.
The black robe, meticulously mended by Pom-Pom, was gone, replaced by a blue and white uniform.
It was the outfit he had worn in Amphoreus.
So, am I the Phainon who hasn't experienced reincarnation yet?
A familiar, deeply ingrained fragrance subtly drifted into his nostrils.
Phainon turned his face.
A pink-haired girl stood quietly by his side, her blue eyes filled with an unresolvable sorrow.
Cyrene?! How is she here?
But her gaze was wrong.
It wasn't a genuine sadness, but rather… a practiced melancholy, performed after repeated rehearsals.
An alarm silently blared in Phainon's heart.
This place felt more like a meticulously constructed stage.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
Crisp applause abruptly broke the dead silence of the vortex core.
Lygus's figure emerged from behind a distorted world fragment, his voice echoing in the empty vortex core, carrying the exaggerated theatrical tone unique to stage plays.
"Heh heh, as a reward for reaching the end of the world, I shall enlighten you both."
"In the name of the Divine Audience, I saw—the first cause of life, here is the topic."
Although Lygus was a machina, his tone was filled with disdain.
Phainon watched him silently, not saying a word.
He was analyzing.
The Simulated Universe was actually simulating a story from before the re-creation.
In that case, could he twist off Lygus's head first?
He subconsciously tried to summon Invasion Dawn, but his fingertips were empty, with no response.
Even the surging power within him, vast as the sea, was as still as stagnant water.
Cyrene, beside him, was also silent, but with an added hint of urgency.
The atmosphere settled into an eerie stillness.
Finally, Cyrene seemed unable to hold back, her peripheral vision quickly darting to Phainon.
Her eyes held confusion, bewilderment, and a hint of urging.
Phainon suddenly spoke, his voice not loud, but clearly reaching Cyrene's ears: "Cyrene, is your sorrow real?"
At these words, Cyrene's expression instantly froze, her eyes wide as she stared at Phainon.
"CUT!"
A crisp, loud shout, like a clap of thunder, shattered the solemnity and mystery of the Creation Vortex Core!
The magnificent and vast scene before them was like an old screen whose power had been forcibly cut, the image suddenly freezing, even flashing with a dazzling burst of static.
Immediately after, a petite figure stormed out from behind the "vortex core" backdrop.
She wore a white hoodie with quirky graffiti on top and a black mini-skirt on the bottom, dressed like a girl next door, completely at odds with her identity as Fool.
"Phainon! Are you mute? Your lines! Say your lines! Who told you to change the script without permission? Was it March 7th, or the Astral Express siblings who taught you?"
Sparkle's voice was filled with undisguised irritation.
Phainon's gaze calmly ignored her, slowly sweeping around.
The so-called "Creation Vortex Core" was nothing more than a giant circular LED screen, now frozen on the last frame of the image.
Above, rows of scorching photographic lights, like artificial suns, illuminated the entire space as bright as day.
Several black cameras were pointed at them, the red recording lights on their lenses all extinguished.
By the "world fragment" not far away, Cyrene had sat down at some point, and a staff member was using a powder puff to touch up her makeup. "Miss Cyrene, your eye makeup is a bit smudged, I'll fix it."
Cyrene nodded slightly, responding politely, "Thank you for your hard work."
And the previously lively "Lygus" now stood rigidly in place, like a robot doll whose power had been cut.
Another figure emerged from behind him, whom Phainon had seen a portrait of in Herta's office not long ago.
Zandar One Kuwabara.
He held a remote control, adjusting "Lygus's" machina body, muttering to himself.
"The machina's dialogue output has a 0.01-second delay; it needs optimization…"
This was a film studio.
Phainon understood everything instantly.
Seeing him still silent, Sparkle's anger flared even more. She rushed to him in a few steps, pulled out a folding stool from who knows where, slammed it down with a "clang," then stood on it, poking his arm fiercely with her finger.
"Hey! What are you spacing out for? Are you trying to act like a big shot with me?"
"You've been zoning out a lot lately during filming! Don't you want to do this anymore? I'm telling you, the boss's knife is already at my throat! If you keep this up, don't force me, the director, to add more scenes for you and Mydei!"
Web series? Director? Actor?
No.
All of this was not his original world.
Here, there was no game called "Honkai: Star Rail," only a web series called "Honkai: Star Rail" currently being filmed.
And all the actors were real, existing "characters."
What a… clever concept.
Phainon ignored the furious Sparkle.
He didn't even look at the so-called "actors" and "sets" around him anymore.
He simply slowly raised his head, his gaze seemingly piercing through the scorching lights of the studio, through the pitch-black dome.
He was having a silent staredown with a being hidden in a higher dimension.
Then.
He smiled.
It was a cold smile, tinged with a hint of mockery and endless playfulness.
"Heh heh… how interesting, Erudition."
Sparkle was stunned by his reaction.
"Is the recent drama too depressing? Did it make him stupid?"
She frowned, muttering softly.
"Hiss… Elio's script really isn't good! What audience likes so much angst? Forget the audience, look, even the lead actor is almost driven crazy."