Fate's Slave - Shadow Slave X Honkai Star Rail

March lingered on the terrace long after the others had begun to disperse, her excitement at becoming General for a day slowly giving way to a more immediate and far less ceremonial curiosity. Sunny had withdrawn slightly from the conversation the moment his supposed community service ceased to be urgent, his attention drifting not toward the bustling recovery efforts below but toward the glowing screen of his phone. His expression, usually animated by sarcasm or predatory amusement, had flattened into something closer to focused irritation, thumbs moving with brisk precision as he typed.

From her vantage point, it was not particularly difficult to lean just enough to glimpse the conversation.

The contact name displayed was simply ’Seele,’ punctuated by a small icon that looked suspiciously like a stylized butterfly.

’Shouldn’t it be a moth?’

Despite the inconsistency, March’s eyes widened with the delight of someone who had just discovered gossip of the highest caliber. She edged closer under the pretense of adjusting her stance, her gaze flicking between the screen and Sunny’s face as though comparing text to reaction.

Sunny did not appear to notice, or at least he gave no sign of it, which only encouraged her further.

The messages scrolling upward were not particularly dramatic, though the tone on the other end was unmistakably insistent.

”Where are you”

”Are you still off-planet”

”You said you’d visit ’soon’ last time”

Sunny’s reply appeared after a brief pause.

”Busy”

A moment later, three dots blinked furiously.

”Busy where”

Sunny stared at the question for several seconds, as though debating whether honesty would be more inconvenient than obfuscation. Finally, he typed a single phrase.

”JohnJoe Lowfi”

March nearly choked on her own breath, slapping a hand over her mouth to prevent the sound from escaping. Sunny... really couldn’t spell Xianzhou Luofu properly, could he? Even if he could, it’s not like Seele would know where that it.

”What”

Sunny sighed through his nose, shoulders slumping slightly as though burdened by the exhausting responsibility of communicating with someone whose frame of reference did not extend beyond their homeworld.

”Big space ship with dragon people and stuff”

”Far as heck”

”Look it up”

There was a longer pause this time, followed by a barrage of messages that made the screen vibrate in his hand.

”How am I supposed to look it up”

”We just got basic communications running”

”Not like I want to see you or anything”

”Idiot”

He hesitated for a moment, wondering what was up with the mixed signals. Did she want him to come or not? His gaze drifted briefly toward the horizon, though whether he was looking at the distant architecture of the Luofu or at something only he could see was unclear.

”Fine I’m coming”

His expression shifted into something more thoughtful, brows knitting faintly as he recalled the crumpled slip of paper tucked safely within his pocket. Silver Wolf’s handwriting had been deceptively casual, the message brief enough to dismiss as a joke if not for the source.

’A storm is coming to Belobog.’

He had no idea what that meant, yet, the implication alone was enough to sour his mood. Jarilo-VI was, by his own declaration, his territory. Anyone or anything threatening it was therefore intruding on something he considered his.

He was a colonist, after all.

He typed slowly, choosing each word with deliberate care.

”Keep an eye out for anything strange”

The reply came almost instantly.

”Strange like what”

He hesitated again, then settled on vagueness.

”Like a big monster or an orbital space laser”

”Could be anything in between”

March could practically feel Seele’s exasperation through the screen.

”You are not helpful”

Sunny’s mouth twitched faintly at that, a ghost of amusement breaking through his concern.

”Rude”

He stared at the conversation for another heartbeat before locking the phone and slipping it into his pocket with a decisive motion.

He announced abruptly, tone casual enough to suggest he was stepping out for fresh air rather than crossing interstellar distances.

”I am going to Belobog. See you.”

March blinked.

”Wait, what?”

Sunny had already turned away, striding toward the Space Anchor at the edge of the plaza with the easy confidence of someone who considered instantaneous teleportation a mundane convenience. The crystalline structure hummed softly as he approached, its inner light intensifying in response to his presence. Without ceremony, he placed a hand against its surface, and his form dissolved into a cascade of luminous fragments that streamed upward like sparks drawn into a vacuum.

He was gone before March could formulate a coherent objection.

She stared at the empty space where he had stood, jaw slowly dropping.

Then she turned to Dan Heng, eyes gleaming with the unmistakable anticipation of impending trouble.

”Wanna follow him?”

Dan Heng did not answer immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the Anchor, though it was clear he was not seeing it so much as looking through it, thoughts turned inward with a gravity that made interruption feel intrusive. When he finally spoke, his voice carried a quiet weight that contrasted sharply with March’s restless energy.

”No. There are some things I have to think about.”

March tilted her head, studying him with open curiosity. The timing of his introspection was suspiciously convenient, arriving immediately after the official lifting of his banishment and the explicit reminder of Dan Feng’s crimes. She considered pressing him for details, then dismissed the idea with a small shrug. If he wanted to talk, he would. If not, pestering him would only produce silence.

”Suit yourself. I’m not missing this for five... no, six tubs of ice cream!”

She bounded forward with characteristic enthusiasm, pressing her hand to the crystalline surface. Light engulfed her in an instant, scattering her form into radiant motes that vanished along the same path Sunny had taken moments earlier.

The plaza fell quieter in her absence, the background noise of mobilization continuing unabated yet somehow more distant.

Dan Heng remained where he stood, gaze lingering on the Anchor long after its glow returned to normal. Something in his chest felt unsettled, a faint pull that had nothing to do with external events and everything to do with the shifting landscape of his own identity. The lifting of the banishment decree should have brought relief, yet instead it had unearthed questions he had carefully avoided for years.

He exhaled slowly, turning away from the terrace.

For reasons he could not articulate, he felt the urge to walk forward without destination, as though movement itself might quiet the turbulence within his thoughts. The streets of the Luofu unfolded before him in layered tiers of jade and gold, citizens and soldiers alike giving respectful space as he passed. He did not acknowledge them, attention turned inward, footsteps steady and unhurried as he walked through.

Meanwhile, far across the stars, Sunny rematerialized in Belobog’s Overworld with the faint distortion of air that accompanied the Anchor’s function. The chill of Jarilo-VI’s climate bit immediately at exposed skin, a sharp contrast to the temperate artificial environment of the Luofu. Frost traced the edges of nearby railings, and the sky above hung low and gray, though not with the suffocating oppression it had once possessed during the height of the Eternal Freeze.

He stepped away from the Anchor without hesitation, boots crunching lightly against packed snow as he surveyed the familiar skyline. It had been over half a year since his last visit, a span filled with trials that had reshaped him from an Awakened into a Master, yet the city’s silhouette remained reassuringly recognizable.

Belobog looked... healthier.

Where once the streets had carried an undercurrent of desperation, there was now cautious optimism. Market stalls displayed goods with something approaching Abundance, children played in supervised clusters rather than huddling for warmth, and the patrols of Silvermane Guards moved with alert professionalism rather than brittle exhaustion. The absence of the Stellaron’s influence had not erased hardship overnight, but it had allowed the city to breathe for the first time in generations.

Through his expanded shadow sense, Sunny could still feel the Fragmentum lingering like a distant bruise on reality, its corruptive presence greatly diminished yet not entirely gone. It would fade in time, perhaps a decade or more, as the world slowly healed from centuries of distortion.

More immediately, he felt something else.

March.

She was attempting stealth with the enthusiasm of someone who believed enthusiasm could substitute for competence, creeping along several paces behind him while ducking behind statues and lamp posts with theatrical exaggeration. To anyone relying solely on conventional senses, she might have been moderately suspicious. To someone whose Aspect specialized in reconnaissance, whose shadow possessed independent perception, she might as well have been waving a flag.

Sunny chose not to acknowledge her.

If she wished to follow, she would. Besides, he was heading somewhere that would provide her with a far more memorable experience than simply being caught eavesdropping. A faint smile tugged at his lips, equal parts anticipation and mischief.

He turned down a broad avenue leading toward the trollies that connected the Overworld to the Underworld, posture relaxed, gaze drifting across the architecture with detached interest. The steampunk aesthetic remained intact, all ironwork and arched stone facades dusted with frost, the occasional plume of steam venting from industrial infrastructure with a hiss that echoed between buildings.

Eyes followed him as he passed.

Men and women alike paused mid-conversation, their attention snagging on his androgynous beauty with a predictability that no longer surprised him. Some stared openly, others attempted subtle glances that failed spectacularly, and a few turned away quickly as though embarrassed by their own curiosity.

Sunny was a bit smug about it.

Behind him, March crouched behind a decorative snowbank, whispering to herself in a stage murmur.

”Okay, definitely heading toward the Underworld. Suspicious. Extremely suspicious.”

She peeked over the top just in time to see him step onto the trolley.

”Oh no you do not.”

She sprinted forward the moment his back was turned, diving behind a stack of cargo crates at the last second as the platform began its descent. The mechanism groaned softly, cables humming under tension as the city above receded into a halo of dim light.

Sunny did not look back, though the faint upward curve of his mouth suggested he was fully aware of her presence.

The Underworld rose to meet them in layers of rusted metal and glowing industrial lamps, the air warmer but heavier, carrying the scent of machinery and mineral dust. Unlike the Overworld’s polished austerity, this place bore the marks of survival through deprivation, every structure functional first and aesthetic second.

It had changed as well.

Where once there had been pervasive gloom, now there was activity bordering on industrious optimism. Workshops operated at full capacity, vendors hawked freshly manufactured goods, and clusters of residents discussed plans rather than grievances. The reopening of trade with the Overworld had transformed the district from a neglected slum into a community rebuilding itself with fierce determination.

Sunny stepped off the platform and into the heart of that transformation, gaze sweeping the familiar terrain with analytical calm.

Behind him, March emerged from concealment with exaggerated stealth, pressing herself against a wall and inching along it as though participating in an amateur theatrical production of espionage.

Sunny continued forward without breaking stride.

He was going to see Seele.

He was also going to deliver a prank months in the making, one carefully calibrated to exploit March’s tendency toward dramatic reactions. If she insisted on shadowing him, she would become an unwitting audience.

The thought alone was enough to brighten his mood considerably.