“Xiyue-sensei, welcome to St.
Freya Academy!”
“On behalf of all faculty and students, I welcome you.”
In the Faculty Apartment of St.
Freya Academy, Xiyue lay sprawled across her bed, staring up at the white ceiling with unfocused eyes, mentally replaying her first meeting with Theresa—that petite frame, that adorably dopey voice.
She stretched her slender fingers toward the ceiling and exhaled, a thousand feelings colliding at once.
Who could have imagined that slacking off at work for five minutes would end with transmigrating into the Honkai world?
Fine, transmigrating she could accept.
But waking up face-to-face with Otto’s uncannily wifely good looks was a bit much.
And then being made one of his interns on top of it.
As for why Green Otto had decided to send her here to St.
Freya Academy as an intern teacher—with orders to shadow Kiana and report on every single move she made for a week—that she couldn’t quite work out.
Not that she understood it, exactly.
But as a Level-88 Captain who knew the storylines cold, she was well aware that Otto had already assigned Fu Hua to keep an eye on Kiana.
What exactly did he need her for?
Oh, I see.
He doesn’t trust Fu Hua?
But he trusts a fresh-faced newbie who just entered the workforce?
The more she turned it over, the more her head spun, so she’d stopped turning it over.
She’d accepted the position without hesitation, because the job came with a salary, free meals, and free housing.
As someone with exactly zero assets to her name, there was no reason to refuse.
And St.
Freya Academy was perfectly safe for now, besides.
At least, perfectly safe until the Pufferfish Queen arrived.
With her scrawny limbs and a cheat that could only develop by farming quietly in the shadows, St.
Freya was the optimal choice.
“To think I was an intern teacher in my past life, and here I am, an intern teacher again.”
“Fate really loves its little jokes.”
Like every self-respecting transmigrator, she came equipped with a cheat—hers was called the “Honkai Impact 3rd Livestream System.”
The name said it all: stream Honkai Impact 3rd from inside the Honkai world.
When she’d first seen it, Xiyue had immediately wanted to complain.
Why don’t I just stream Kiana and the others directly?
Wouldn’t that be way more exciting than streaming a video game?
Sadly, the System had vetoed the idea, its explanation so vague it was practically a riddle.
〖System〗 The viewers are special.
Host must not do this.
So the viewers weren’t from Earth.
But what interest would aliens have in watching her play a video game?
Honkai Impact 3rd had a lot going for it, but its appeal was squarely aimed at anime fans.
Don’t tell me aliens have anime culture too?
Xiyue had plenty of questions, none of which the System bothered answering.
But her mind—which tended to skip ahead—leapt forward to when she’d get to streaming the main storyline.
All those gut-punch moments were going to make people cry.
She wondered how many.
The mental image put her in an excellent mood.
Then again, thinking back to all the emotional gut-punches she’d personally suffered, she wanted to smash miHoYo’s headquarters with her bare hands.
Still, there was something uniquely surreal about streaming Honkai Impact from inside the Honkai world.
Whatever.
As long as I can get stronger while lying down, who cares.
She flopped back with full slacker conviction, hugged her soft duvet, and rolled back and forth across the mattress for a while.
Eventually she opened her eyes and addressed the System.
“System—any requirements for streaming?”
〖System〗 Host must follow three rules: reveal no name, show no face, stream decently.
〖System〗 Additionally, host must stream for at least three hours per day.
Content must be game-related.
No further requirements beyond these.
That’s pretty flexible, actually.
Xiyue nodded.
“And the rewards?”
〖System〗 Gifts received during streams, as well as emotional responses generated in viewers, are converted into Crystals.
Tallied at the end of each stream.
〖System〗 Host may use Crystals to draw rewards and abilities from the System’s gacha interface.
Right, same setup as pretty much every livestream-system novel back home.
As for gacha draws—she was a golden-luck god.
The kind of player who got banned from group chats every time she posted her pulls.
One more question occurred to her.
“System—if the viewers aren’t from Earth, does that mean they’re from this world?”
The System answered instantly.
〖System〗 Host need not concern herself with this.
The System handles the viewers.
Host’s only job is to stream.
Hearing the System’s patented riddle-speak, Xiyue—full-time slacker—decided not to push it.
Same as always: get stronger while horizontal; let the cryptic System keep its cryptic secrets.
The System’s flat, mechanical voice chimed again in her ear.
〖System〗 Stream time.
Host, prepare to go live.
At that, Xiyue reluctantly peeled herself off her luxurious mattress—then immediately reconsidered, flopped back down, flipped onto her side, propped her hands under her head, and produced two phones: one to stream with, one to monitor the chat.
There was a desktop in the teacher’s room, but standing up was for people who had things to prove.
If you could stream lying down, why would you ever stream sitting up?
Her slender fingers tapped the silver-haired girl’s icon on-screen.
She tilted the phone to portrait mode.
〖System〗 Stream room opened.
〖System〗 Stream live.
〖System〗 Reminder: Host must follow three rules — reveal no name, show no face, stream decently.
The familiar title screen filled her view, running its automated intro.
The screen cut to black—then a deep-green ocean appeared, and a familiar German voice drifted in.
A small figure knelt on a burning battlefield.
“Kiana, we made a promise, didn’t we?
You won’t lose to her.”
Alongside the measured male voice, a young Kiana with mismatched eyes appeared—followed by the Hyperion, then a massive sword plunged hilt-deep into the earth, a slender hand reaching down to grasp it.
A sweeping, hope-filled score swelled beneath it all.
“I will walk the path you blazed—and I will keep moving forward!”
The Herrscher of Flamescion appeared next; and at the very end, a pink-haired girl reclined on a sofa, her voice drifting in like something from a fairy tale.
“I’m so happy to see you slowly making this place your own, drawing ever closer to our journey.”
In the lower corner of the screen, beside the pink, elfin girl, two words blazed to life:
Elysian Realm
Xiyue watched the familiar-yet-strange footage and remembered: this was the 5.0 version’s promotional PV, Inherit the Flame.
No wonder both Firefly and Elysia were in it.
“So the game’s at version 5.0.”
“Version 5.0, huh.”
She let out a small sigh.
Memories surfaced in fragments, each tangled with feeling.
Before 5.0, the preceding game versions had been genuinely dark—rough patches in the update cycle that left marks.
Dark enough that even she, a player who simply played and never once touched the community discourse, had felt the fallout.
She’d rather not dwell on it.
Right or wrong—it’s all in the past now.
A quiet exhale, and her attention shifted back to the screen.
Meanwhile, a notification lit up the top of her second phone.
〖System〗 Welcome: Miss Pink Elf♪, No Exams Thanks, Wants to Buy an Island — entering the stream.
And then a pink comment appeared:
Miss Pink Elf♪: May I ask—who is that beautiful, graceful, enchanting young lady at the end of the video?