The Gamer who traveled to Honkai: Star Rail

Seated inside a dessert shop, Pei Guang scanned the menu and found something startlingly familiar.

Both Elysia and March 7th noticed the shift in his expression.

Elysia, curious, asked: "Do all galactic travelers eat desserts like these too?"

March 7th shook her head: "They're similar but not the same. Still, if Ah Guang is making that face, he must have had something like this before."

Desserts, it seemed, developed similarly across worlds. Though naming conventions varied depending on who invented them, their essence remained remarkably consistent.

Pei Guang nodded as he perused the menu: "It's very familiar, almost like someone copied it directly from my home. But I guess that makes sense—after all, this is Earth."

Elysia: "What do you like to eat? It's on me~"

Pei Guang hadn't even had the chance to speak before Stelle, already fired up, began flipping through the menu. "This one, this one, and this one..."

"All of these?" Elysia asked, making note of Stelle's choices.

But her next words left Elysia momentarily stunned. "Thirty portions of these, and ten portions of everything else! Ah Guang always says, 'Honesty is the best policy.'"

Pei Guang nodded casually. "Let's go with that. Though this shop looks pretty small—if we order too much, they might not be able to keep up."

Elysia was at a loss for words. What could she even say? Was this just quintessential Pei Guang? Even ordering food had to be done with flair.

Elysia smiled wryly. "Not a problem~"

Her mood, however, was excellent. Setting aside Pei Guang and his group's strange identities, just the experience of sitting together, chatting, and enjoying dessert brought her immense joy.

For years, the looming threat of the legion had been a dark cloud over her heart. Coupled with her own unresolved issues, it felt like that shadow would never lift. 

But now, that cloud seemed to be dispersing, shattered in an instant by a certain garbage can brought along by Pei Guang.

On top of that, having someone like March 7th, a girl who was easy to talk to and fun to be around, made Elysia genuinely happy.

It wasn't that she didn't have friends among the Fire Moth organization, but even her closest conversations within its ranks were tinged with the unshakable shadow of the army's presence. The constant worry about the future meant their smiles often carried traces of despair.

Elysia stood up, intending to place their order, but just as she was about to move, her phone buzzed with an incoming call.

Answering it, she heard a man's voice on the other end. "Elysia..."

Elysia's lips curved into a smile. "Oh? It's you. What's up? Has Mei made another breakthrough? Let me guess! She must've heard about our victory and is planning a little celebration for everyone, right?"

The man on the other end sighed. "Not quite. Actually..."

He began explaining what had happened during her return with Pei Guang.

For humanity, this battle wasn't just a victory—it was a resounding triumph. The soldiers on the frontlines might not have fully understood how they had won, but news of the victory had already reached the rear.

While the army's offensive had slowed recently, this complete annihilation of all their forces on the field was a first in human history.

This wasn't just cause for champagne mid-game; it called for an outright celebration.

Especially noteworthy were the words of Aponia, the prophetic nun, which confirmed humanity's victory as a foregone conclusion.

Aponia, once an ordinary person, had gained the ability to see the future during the legion's invasion.

Now blessed with the power to glimpse into the threads of destiny, she foresaw Earth's future—its final destiny.

In the past, Aponia's foresight had saved countless lives, helping humanity evade the Antimatter's attacks time and again.

Repeatedly asked about humanity's future, she had always remained silent. But today, an accidental remark of hers was picked up by the church's surveillance system.

"Humanity... has won..."

The words had come from Aponia herself. Unlike her usual calm tone, this time, the monitoring staff detected a hint of hope and excitement in her voice.

Coupled with the crushing victory on the battlefield, humanity began to believe the legion's prolonged invasion had overextended their supply lines. Defeat for the enemies now seemed inevitable.

Recently, Fire Moth had even developed a new weapon based on the technology of the Antimatter Legion's arsenal. However, according to frontline reports, this recent victory did not involve the use of this new weapon.

The government officials at the rear were skeptical. They suspected Fire Moth was holding back its true capabilities, perhaps harboring ulterior motives. With the possibility of ultimate victory against the Legion in sight, certain factions saw an opportunity. Their plan? To seize this advanced weaponry while simultaneously weakening Fire Moth's influence and authority.

An independent organization like Fire Moth, operating outside governmental control, posed a significant threat to any post-war power structure. Even if it had no intentions of dominating world affairs, its existence alone unnerved many nations, who feared losing control over their own territories and military forces.

The Legion's invasion had devastated many countries and claimed countless lives, but it had also driven advancements in military technology across the board. Many nations now felt emboldened by their improved capabilities. And with Fire Moth's weapon designs being far from secret—many factories worldwide had begun production—governments believed it was time to curb their power.

They began activating contingency plans long in the making.

The first step was a calculated transfer of authority. While Fire Moth remained nominally independent, many nations began withdrawing their personnel and equipment under the pretense of "reorganization." 

Troops were recalled, leaving Fire Moth to retain nominal authority over its forces. However, it was an obvious move to sideline the organization, with its operational capacity gradually hollowed out.

The maneuver was subtle. Control over the troops wasn't directly revoked—Fire Moth was still tasked with leading the fight against the Legion. But the losses in personnel meant that, should a nation's forces sustain heavy casualties under their command, the blame could conveniently be shifted away from the withdrawing governments.

Simultaneously, governments eagerly spread news of humanity's victory over the Antimatter Legion and leveraged public sentiment to pressure Fire Moth into maintaining its role in the fight. After all, their original purpose was to unite humanity's strength against the Legion.

If this conversation had taken place earlier, Elysia wouldn't have thought much of it. Fire Moth's very foundation was to counter the Legion, and she'd always accepted the organization's duty. But this time, she couldn't help but feel frustrated. Celebrating victory prematurely was one thing, but scheming to undermine them after a single win—especially one that wasn't even fully theirs—was another entirely.

Elysia sighed. "Didn't anyone tell them that our new weapons had nothing to do with this victory? Sure, these weapons are powerful, but they're not capable of annihilating the entire Legion. Oh well, let them think what they want. Fire Moth was created to combat the Antimatter Legion, and our technology has always been public. Besides, many of our members were recruited from their own nations, so if they want to recall their people, that's their right."

The voice on the other end of the line hesitated. "Are you really going to just let it slide?"

"What else can we do?" Elysia replied with a wry smile. "It doesn't matter what they're thinking, as long as we don't forget why we exist. But have they really forgotten about the threat of the Doomsday Beast? Starting all this infighting so soon… if the Doomsday Beast makes a move, everyone is doomed."

The voice on the phone lowered ominously. "Based on some of the reports we've received… many of them suspect the Doomsday Beast doesn't even exist."

Elysia's tone turned serious: "Kevin! Do they really think that?"

Her voice carried more disbelief than anger. She wasn't upset—she simply found it hard to fathom. 

She cherished every human being, knowing that while humanity harbored its imperfections, it also possessed profound beauty. Many chose to abandon that beauty in pursuit of material gain, but surely abandoning one's sense wasn't part of the deal.

Had they really forgotten the terror unleashed when the Doomsday Beast first arrived? The day when even humanity's strongest weapons couldn't so much as scratch it? Twisting history to deny the Doomsday Beast's existence outright—how could it have come to this?

The Doomsday Beast had only unleashed its overwhelming power on its first day on Earth. It destroyed every satellite orbiting the planet, leaving humanity with scant information about it. Over time, as the Legion's advance slowed, the idea that the Doomsday Beast didn't exist began to spread.

People reasoned: if it were real, why hadn't it simply destroyed humanity outright?

This narrative gained traction, spurred on by certain factions manipulating public opinion. Some began to argue that the Legion's success was simply due to humanity's unpreparedness during the initial invasion.

As for the interstellar origins of the enemies, only a select few within the Fire Moth knew the truth, and it wasn't shared publicly. Revealing everything would likely hasten humanity's collapse rather than prevent it. Without the full picture, many assumed the Antimatter Legion was merely a wandering force of extraterrestrial invaders.

Some even advocated for diplomacy, suggesting that the Fire Moth's leadership should negotiate with the Legion's hierarchy. Others, driven by idealistic notions of coexistence, proposed living alongside the aliens.