Star Rail: Starting with a Lyre, Living off Busking

"Well, well, look at that proud face. Weren't you the one who called us gutter rats earlier?"

The dark mage sneered as he tightened his control over the shadowy hands, dragging the elven archer closer. He clutched the bloody wound on his throat with one hand, trying to staunch the bleeding. Unlike the troll, he lacked the gift of rapid regeneration, and without immediate treatment, he wouldn't last long.

But none of that mattered to him at this moment. The hatred burning in the elven archer's eyes was pure bliss—a kind of ecstasy even greater than any physical pleasure.

Dark elves like him were born into rejection. Their hideous appearance, their cursed lineage—they were despised and ridiculed from the start.

And so, he loathed the forest elves. Born as nature's chosen, they were admired for their beauty, long lives, and natural gifts. They were praised simply for existing, standing at the pinnacle of perfection.

Breaking that beauty… That was his greatest joy.

"Spit!"

The elven archer spat on his face, and he wiped it away without care, even licking his lips with a disgusting leer.

"Tch. Don't ruin her too much," the troll grumbled from behind, tossing away his weapon to yank the arrow lodged in his eye socket. The jagged shaft had been blocking his regenerative abilities.

With the obstruction gone, nerves and tissue rapidly regrew. Soon, his eye was good as new. Pressing against the socket to adjust, the troll smirked maliciously.

"Elves shouldn't expect to leave alive this time," he growled, glancing at the piles of dead goblins nearby. Many had been incinerated by his own fireball.

"Until we replenish their numbers, we'll make sure to enjoy your company thoroughly."

The elven archer glared daggers at him, but her defiance only amused him further.

Meanwhile, the dwarf sorcerer and priestess, the only two remaining adventurers still capable of moving, exchanged worried looks.

A troll of this caliber wasn't something they could hope to defeat. Taking one down required adventurers of gold rank—an elite level of skill no kingdom would waste on exterminating goblins.

Are we really going to die here?

The dwarf gripped his hammer tightly, standing protectively in front of the trembling priestess. His mind raced, searching desperately for a plan.

The troll sneered at them. "What, not going to abandon your friend and run away?"

"Sorry to disappoint, but we dwarves don't have the same sense of 'family values' as ogres," the sorcerer snapped back, deliberately baiting the troll.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed movement from Goblin Slayer and the lizardman priest, both of whom had been presumed incapacitated.

Realizing their chance, the dwarf continued his taunts. "And let's not forget our friend the dark elf—probably never met his parents, huh?"

The insult struck a nerve. Both the troll and the dark mage erupted with fury, their attention fully locked onto the dwarf.

The priestess, standing behind him, could only watch in awe. The dwarf's words weren't just petty insults; they were a calculated risk to draw fire away from their recovering allies.

As the enemies fumed, none of them noticed a faint clink of glass hitting the ground amidst the ruins.

Moments later, the lizardman priest burst out from the rubble like a coiled spring. With wild, bloodshot eyes and reptilian precision, he charged at the dark mage, driving his raptor claws deep into the mage's side.

The dark mage's shadowy hands, weakened by the earlier battle, were too slow to fully block the attack. The claws tore through his waist, leaving a gaping wound that nearly split him in two.

Before the dark mage could scream, a throwing knife sailed out of the shadows, hitting him square in the open mouth and piercing his throat.

The mage's eyes widened in shock, his voice reduced to a gurgle as blood poured down his robes.

Goblin Slayer, barely able to stand, leaned against the wall, his helmet obscuring his expression but his voice cutting through the chaos like a death sentence.

"That knife… was coated with goblin filth."

The dark mage's face twisted in terror as his body began to convulse. Purple veins of poison spread rapidly across his skin, turning his already gaunt frame into a grotesque caricature.

He staggered backward, collapsing onto his knees as if dragged down by invisible hands. With a final, guttural sound, he fell lifeless to the ground.

The troll, now enraged beyond reason, roared at the sight of his comrade's death.

"You dare mock me?! All of you will die here!"

The sheer force of his bellow sent shockwaves through the arena, stunning the lizardman priest and forcing him to collapse unconscious.

The troll turned his fury toward the dwarf sorcerer, raising a massive fist for a devastating blow. But the dwarf was prepared.

He flung a handful of grit into the air and cast a hastily improvised spell, skipping the incantation. While the spell lacked its usual power, the resulting storm of fine sand and pebbles blinded the troll, sending him into a rage.

Unable to see, the troll's attack veered off course, narrowly missing the elven archer, who had just broken free from the shadows' grasp.

The archer flipped backward with a gymnast's grace, dodging a sweeping strike that shattered a stone pillar.

Meanwhile, the priestess rushed to Goblin Slayer's side, helping him stay upright.

"Take the scroll from my pack…" he gasped, blood seeping through his helmet.

His words were cut off as he coughed up a fresh stream of blood, the toll of his injuries making it clear he wouldn't last much longer.

The priestess frantically rifled through his belongings, pulling out a rolled-up scroll just as the troll began to recover.

Its regenerating eye fixed on the pair, brimming with rage but still calculating its next move.

The troll raised a hand, chanting in a guttural tone.

"Karlibenkris Crescent: Flame Swell…"

The troll's incantation continued, his guttural tone slow and deliberate. His crude voice carried the weight of impending doom, ringing in the adventurers' ears like a death knell.

With no options left, the priestess forced herself to calm down. Her trembling hands dug through Goblin Slayer's bag, pulling out the scroll at the top.

Undoing its ties, she pointed it directly at the troll.

"Yakta!"

At the same moment, the massive fireball, now a roaring inferno, hurtled toward the group.

A brilliant blue light erupted from the scroll.

Water surged forth, razor-sharp from its intense compression, slicing through the fireball with ease. The flames evaporated into harmless steam. But the water didn't stop there—it swept forward with devastating force, severing the troll's casting arm and carving a deep gash through its torso.

The troll's lower body collapsed onto the ground, half submerged in the rushing waters.

The battlefield fell silent, save for the faint gurgling of water pooling around them.

"...A teleportation scroll," the troll muttered, his bloodshot eyes filled with disbelief as he stared at the shivering priestess.

She opened her eyes cautiously, her expression a mix of fear and amazement as she took in the scene.

"Good work! But seriously, did that guy really just use that for killing goblins?!"

The elven archer's triumphant cheer quickly turned into incredulous exasperation.

The dwarf sorcerer, who had been supporting himself on her shoulder, muttered with a wry smile, "I told you, that guy's a nutcase. A determined one, but a nutcase nonetheless."

His gaze shifted to Goblin Slayer, lying prone on the ground and staring intently at the troll. The sorcerer's voice grew somber.

"To think he used a scroll meant for escaping certain death... just to kill a goblin. His obsession runs deeper than I thought."

"Is this… the clear waters of the great marsh? Have I passed on and returned to my homeland?"

The lizardman priest, still dazed from earlier, groaned as he struggled to sit up.

"You're not dead yet," the sorcerer snapped, only to trail off as his eyes widened in horror.

The troll's remaining arm clawed at the ground, dragging its severed body together. Muscles and tendons writhed, knitting themselves back into place at an unnatural speed.

"What the hell… Is that thing immortal?!"

The elven archer's voice wavered, disbelief clear in her tone.

The troll smirked at her, his regenerating body now fully upright.

"Immortal? Not quite. You've never seen true immortality," he sneered, brushing at his still-bleeding wounds. "But you'll find out soon enough."

Despite his injuries, the troll raised his head high, as if savoring the moment.

"Nearly had me there. If that scroll had been used by a taller priestess—or a more capable human—it would've cut my head clean off. Even I couldn't regenerate from that. But as it stands..."

The troll's face contorted into an ugly grin.

"I live, and you all die. Fate has chosen me, not you."

His mocking laughter echoed through the chamber as he prepared to finish the adventurers off.

But then, a faint rustling sound broke through the silence.

Rustle. Rustle.

The troll stiffened. Something about the sound set his nerves on edge, his skin crawling with unease.

"What's that noise?"

The rustling grew louder.

Rustle. Rustle.

The troll spun around and hurled a chunk of rubble in the direction of the sound.

"Who's there?!"

Crunch.

The unmistakable noise of something chewing filled the air.

The troll froze, his nostrils flaring as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing.

Before him stood a massive carnivorous plant, its structure resembling an oversized pitcher plant. It loomed nearly three stories tall, its gaping maw lined with jagged teeth capable of pulverizing stone.

The plant emitted a low growl, as if ravenous.

The troll's face contorted in disbelief.

"A plant…?"

The monstrosity lunged forward, its jaws snapping shut around the troll's torso. His screams were muffled as the plant thrashed him about like a ragdoll.

The adventurers could only watch in stunned silence as the once-terrifying troll was consumed whole.

Moments later, the plant's enormous body settled onto the ground, curling into itself like a satiated predator. Its terrifying presence faded, leaving behind an almost comical air of innocence.

"...It ate him," the priestess murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

"A troll being eaten by a carnivorous plant. Feels like something out of a twisted fairy tale," the dwarf mused. His voice held a newfound respect as he glanced at the elven archer. "Your princess… She's something else, huh?"

The archer crossed her arms smugly. "Obviously. Did you ever doubt her brilliance?"

But the lizardman priest eyed the plant warily.

"Still… Are we sure it's asleep? What if we wake it up while leaving? Wouldn't it try to eat us too?"

The group fell into a tense silence, none daring to move.

Their attention snapped to the sound of approaching footsteps.

From the shadows emerged a figure. Delicate feet splashed softly through the water, their pale skin as smooth as polished jade.

Above them, Nahida's ethereal voice rang out, as serene as a breeze through the trees.

"Don't worry. It's well-behaved. It won't eat you."

Her gentle smile held a mischievous glint as her emerald eyes sparkled with knowing amusement.

"After all, you're not parched travelers in a desert, nor is it a thirsty beast by the riverbank. Most importantly…"

She paused, as if savoring the moment.

"There's plenty of water to drink without needing to fight over it."

Before she could finish her quip, a gray-clad figure dashed forward and knelt at her feet.

"Hey! Trailblazer! Stop acting like you're about to—!"

The commotion was drowned out by the exasperated cries of their comrades.

By the time the group returned to the surface, one overly enthusiastic explorer remained securely tied to a tree.

---

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Zhongli