[Welder from the Underworld: Yeah, my planet is Jarilo-VI.
Why — is there a problem?]
[Old Man: No, nothing.
Just thinking about whether to come to your world and help out.]
Ryo casually replied to Seele, then fell back into thought.
Well, damn.
It really is that Seele.
The Star Rail world, huh?
If you asked which world was more of a cesspit — Warhammer 40K or Honkai: Star Rail —
Ryo wouldn’t hesitate for a second.
Star Rail.
Hands down.
The reason was simple.
Warhammer had four Chaos Gods in the Warp — the Four Tumors — and they’d turned the place into a nightmare.
But Star Rail?
That world had eighteen Aeons running loose in real space.
The Four Tumors were at least trapped in the Warp.
To sum up the difference between Warhammer and Star Rail in one sentence:
Warhammer was a grimdark world born purely for darkness and despair.
Star Rail was more like…
“random at birth, absurd at death.”
The Path system in Star Rail was just too ridiculous.
The Path-striders — those lunatics — were always pulling some new stunt.
Consider the Swarm Disaster that swept through two-thirds of the observable universe.
Or the two Emperor Wars…
Honestly, just on world-building alone, Star Rail was more absurd.
More of a cesspit.
For example — in Warhammer, under the Warp’s corruption, even a steel product fresh off the assembly line might suddenly mutate and slap you.
Read the wrong book?
Corruption.
Fight too hard?
Corruption.
Play the baby-making game?
Also corruption.
Star Rail, though?
During the Swarm Disaster, anything conceptually related to Propagation spawned bugs.
Bugs in the assembly lines.
Read a book with words related to Propagation?
Bugs crawl out of the pages.
Look at the wrong photo?
Bugs.
And if you were pregnant, what came out wasn’t a baby — it was bugs.
In Warhammer, at least it was a process.
They called it “being blessed by the Chaos Gods.”
In Star Rail, you just had to align your thoughts and actions with a Path, and you’d gain power from it.
Become a Path-strider.
And the stronger the Path-strider, the more unhinged they became.
Your civilization could be minding its own business when some Stellaron Hunter wandered by and plucked your sun out of the sky.
Yes, literally.
Took your star.
Didn’t care about the consequences.
So: Star Rail — random at birth, absurd at death.
Warhammer was just a straightforward cesspit of grimdark.
And Little Garden?
Well, Little Garden had its own cesspit qualities, but at least End Emptiness and the Central Core were watching over things.
And for now, Little Garden was relatively peaceful.
…For now, anyway.
Ryo had heard stories about Little Garden’s Dawn Era — back when the Little Garden continent was a flat world with an area comparable to a universe.
How it had been reduced to its current size, with the surface area of a single star?
Don’t ask.
Nobody knows.
It’s taboo.
So…
should he go?
Ryo asked himself honestly.
Star Rail had been his favorite game before transmigrating.
He really wanted to visit.
But honestly, Star Rail was dangerous.
Even Ryo couldn’t predict what might happen once he got there.
Most likely, nothing would happen.
A peaceful visit.
But what about that tiny chance of catching an Aeon’s attention?
He was still just an underdeveloped young dragon.
Apart from a freebie Sea God godhead, he had nothing.
He could protect himself, sure.
But if this useless forum had provided even a basic safety guarantee for world traversal, Ryo wouldn’t be hesitating this much.
This damn no-responsibility forum.
Just then, Seele replied:
[Welder from the Underworld: You’re really coming?
But…
that costs so many points. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
We can’t reimburse you.]
Seele said helplessly.
A round trip cost two thousand points.
She barely had a hundred-odd points herself.
She didn’t fully understand how points were earned, but she knew her balance could at most cover the transaction fee.
Yes — this goddamn money-grubbing forum allowed trades, but charged a one percent transaction fee.
And the fee couldn’t be paid in goods.
It had to be paid in forum points.
Calculated based on the value of the transferred items.
And the forum didn’t even buy things back.
[Old Man: Who said anything about reimbursement?
Can’t I just pay my own way and go sightseeing?]
Ryo replied, exasperated.
What did they take him for?
Someone who needed travel expenses covered?
Besides, he wasn’t short on points.
Points were generated when forum members influenced their worlds — the forum harvested those deviations and converted them into points.
Little Garden’s feats worked similarly — special energy condensed from your influence on Human History.
Spirit Rank was the crystallization of feats.
Gifts were manifestations of Spirit Rank.
The two systems were compatible.
He could sell Gifts to the forum for points.
And he’d just scored over thirteen thousand points from Perseus.
More than enough for a vacation.
But seeing Seele’s reply, Ryo made up his mind.
He was definitely going to visit Star Rail.
To see his old wives.
Seele had been one of his favorites — her lightning-powered scythe had carried him through Belobog, through Herta Space Station, through the Xianzhou, through entire version cycles.
Until the day Seele fell out of the meta, and the quantum battleship became a quantum shipwreck…
Damn you, game designers.
When are you buffing our girl Seele?
She was the only limited five-star character in the entire game with a working-class background.
[Welder from the Underworld: Fine.]
Seele stared at Ryo’s reply with complicated feelings.
She wondered if he knew what was happening here — if that was why he was coming.
Sakiko had suspected the man might be some kind of transmigrator or prophet.
But whoever Ryo was — if he could help the Underworld, then he was her best friend.
Meanwhile, Ryo was thinking about whether he should ask his convenient elder sister for some protective measures.
After all, going on a trip without any safety net?
He couldn’t relax and enjoy himself like that.