Fate's Slave - Shadow Slave X Honkai Star Rail

They had not made it halfway across the winding bridges of the Divination Commission when Sunny’s earlier question resurfaced, stubborn and sharp.

”Wait, why bring up Sovereigns if none of them are going to show up? That felt like a dramatic reveal for nothing.”

Fu Xuan did not slow her pace. The hem of her robes brushed softly against the polished floor as she navigated the labyrinthine platforms suspended over the endless sea below.

”It was not for drama. It was for context. The Luofu’s contingency against Great Rank entities is not a living Sovereign. However, it was created by one.”

Sunny’s steps slowed a fraction. March blinked between them, curiosity piqued.

”Created... how?”

”Several millennia ago, before the current political configuration of the Alliance, a Sovereign walked among the Xianzhou. His Domain was not territorial in the conventional sense. It did not expand through worshippers or citizens.”

Fu Xuan scowled faintly.

”It expanded through games.”

Sunny stared at her.

’That’s... not the weirdest thing to hear after getting my mind molested by a green ball. I’m going to kill the green ball.’

She continued walking, voice steady.

”He viewed existence as a series of interlocking probabilities. Conflict, Destiny, Calamity — each was merely a hand dealt by an indifferent dealer. His Domain allowed him to encode portions of his own being into objects structured around chance and calculation.”

March tilted her head.

”Like... enchanted dice?”

Fu Xuan replied:

”A crude simplification, but not inaccurate.”

Sunny narrowed his eyes.

”You said the weapon was created by him. What does that mean exactly?”

Fu Xuan thought fo a few moments, brow scrunched. Then, she sighed:

”It contains what I will simplify as the ’DNA’ of his soul. Not literal biological matter. Rather, a fragment of his spiritual blueprint. You are familiar with Memories, yes?”

Sunny nodded slowly.

”When you kill something powerful, its Memory carries an enchantment that reflects its nature.”

”Correct. Now imagine a Sovereign deliberately crafting an artifact that contains an imprint of both his personality and Aspect — his logic, his authority, his methodology. Not a mere echo left behind in death, but an intentional engraving.”

Sunny felt something coil low in his stomach.

”So this thing... thinks?”

”In a manner of speaking.”

”And it can hurt a Supreme Titan?”

”If wielded correctly.”

They walked in silence for a few steps, the sound of distant waves echoing up from the unfathomable drop below the Commission’s platforms. Sunny glanced over the railing briefly. The ocean stretched endlessly, far beneath, shimmering like liquid glass.

”And you just... found this thing?”

Fu Xuan’s mouth twitched.

”One of our diviners did.”

Sunny didn’t miss the faint strain in her voice.

”That doesn’t sound reassuring.”

Eyes still shut, her voice took on a scolding tone — though, not aimed at Sunny.

”It was in an archive long forgotten. Classified, sealed, and misfiled across eras of bureaucratic incompetence. Its discovery was... accidental.”

March leaned closer to Sunny and whispered:

”That sounds exactly like something that Qingque woman would do.”

Fu Xuan stopped walking.

The silence that followed was ominous. She asked slowly:

”...Why did you say that name?”

March blinked.

”Uh. Lucky guess?”

Fu Xuan resumed walking, slightly faster now.

”You will see.”

She mumbled about how Qingque’s character was so terrible that outsiders who have only seen her once could predict her. Sunny wasn’t sure who to pity — the suffering employer, or the badmouthed employee.

They reached one of the outermost platforms of the Divination Commission — a wide balcony-like extension that overlooked the endless drop. The wind was gentler here, carrying the scent of salt and something faintly floral. Several diviners worked nearby, adjusting floating arrays with practiced indifference.

And there, sprawled atop the wide railing that separated civilization from a drop into the distant sea, lay Qingque.

She was flat on her back, one leg dangling precariously over the abyss, snoring softly. Several empty wine bottles rolled lazily across the polished floor around her. A half-empty one rested loosely in her hand. A glossy magazine lay open on her chest, pages filled with dashing men posed dramatically under celestial backdrops.

Sunny stopped walking.

March stopped walking.

Both of them stared.

The railing she occupied led straight down into nothingness until the distant ocean swallowed the horizon. There were no safety barriers. No guardrails.

She was asleep.

Drunk.

On the edge of what was practically an abyss.

Fu Xuan turned to them slowly. There was a faint twitch in her brow.

She shook her head once, then stepped forward.

Without hesitation, she plucked the magazine from Qingque’s chest. The sleeping diviner stirred slightly but did not wake. Fu Xuan rolled the magazine into a tight cylinder.

Then she raised it.

And slammed it down onto Qingque’s head.

The magazine detonated into shredded paper.

The sound cracked sharply through the air.

None of the surrounding diviners reacted.

Qingque shot upright with a startled shriek, nearly tumbling backward into the abyss before wobbling forward instead.

”Wha— what in the gambling addiction—?!”

Her eyes landed on the confetti remnants in Fu Xuan’s hand.

A beat.

A horrified inhale.

”My limited-edition Heartthrob Constellations Special Issue?!”

She scrambled for a nearby bottle, found one half-full, and chugged it dramatically as though to drown her grief.

Fu Xuan calmly picked up an empty bottle from the floor and smashed it over Qingque’s head.

The bottle shattered.

Qingque yelped, clutching her scalp.

”Ow! That hurt!”

There was not a single scratch on her.

Sunny blinked slowly.

He had assumed Qingque was... normal. Somebody without a burning clue of light in their metaphysical body.

Now, narrowing his eyes, he focused.

Her form shifted subtly in his perception. The plainness evaporated like mist. She appeared... undeniably cute. Short, slightly disheveled, cheeks flushed from alcohol, eyes bright with chaotic intelligence poorly concealed beneath slacker energy.

Then he blinked again.

She returned to being unassuming. Through all that, he couldn’t even see a Soul Core.

”...Huh.”

Fu Xuan scowled.

”You are fortunate that you are too valuable to be dismissed.”

Qingque, still swaying, deadpanned.

”I don’t want to be employed by a tyrant like you in the first place.”

”Who are you calling a tyrant, you alcoholic slacker?!”

Qingque smirked lazily.

”You’re too easy to ragebait. And that’s exactly why you’re still a virgin at the fertile age of five hundred and twelve.”

Fu Xuan’s face turned crimson — not from wine, but pure mortification.

She lunged.

The two of them tumbled to the floor in a flurry of robes and limbs, hands interlocked as they grappled for leverage.

March stared.

”Do we... have time for this?”

Sunny watched, expression contemplative.

”I don’t know, but... this is a pretty stimulating scene, eh?”

Fu Xuan and Qingque were now pressed together in a position that could only generously be described as compromising.

March nodded slowly.

”Okay, yeah, it’s kinda hot...”

She froze.

Then punched Sunny squarely in the shoulder.

”Be a pervert later!”

Sunny shrugged.

”Do you think she’d suplex me if I said something embarrassing right now?”

March considered.

”I don’t know. But if you tried to embarrass me, I’d definitely put you in a command grab.”

Sunny turned to her, face utterly deadpan.

”Are you coming onto me?”

March’s expression did not change.

”No.”

They held eye contact for a moment.

Neither smiled.

And yet, somehow, the silence confirmed something unspoken between them — something close to friendship, even if Sunny would rather bite his own tongue than admit it.

That was simply the power of the bond between two idiots who appreciated the forms of hostile petite women.

Eventually, Fu Xuan maneuvered Qingque into a headlock. She only had one demand:

”Tap.”

”Okay, okay! I tap! Mercy!”

Fu Xuan released her and stood gracefully, dusting off her robes as though nothing had happened. Qingque lay sprawled for a moment before flopping upright again.

Sunny leaned toward March and whispered:

”She’s pretending that didn’t just happen.”

Fu Xuan said coolly:

”I can hear you.”

She adjusted her sleeves.

”Treat this fool like an animal, not a human. Physical discipline is efficient.”

Sunny glanced at the wine bottles scattered across the floor.

”Lazy feels like an understatement. She’s drunk on a Tuesday. During work hours.”

Qingque, eyes half-lidded, turned toward him with a lopsided grin.

”You can treat me like an animal anytime, pretty boy.”

She was speaking to a lamppost.

After a moment, she blinked, refocused, and squinted at Fu Xuan.

”You owe me a new magazine.”

Fu Xuan huffed.

”Your salary is more than sufficient to replace it. This constitutes damage to personal property caused by an intoxicated employee.”

Qingque muttered.

”Oppression.”

Fu Xuan grabbed her by the arm.

”Move.”

Dragging the swaying diviner behind her, she led them into the inner structure of the Commission. They passed multiple security checkpoints, Jade Abacuses scanning and verifying Fu Xuan’s identity. The deeper they descended, the more Sunny felt something strange.

His shadow sense — normally extending like a subtle web — simply stopped.

It did not penetrate further.

That had never happened before... as far as he could remember, at least.

They arrived before a heavy vault door inscribed with complex divination scripts. Fu Xuan stepped forward and entered a sequence of symbols across a glowing panel. Mechanisms whirred softly.

The vault opened.

Inside, resting atop a simple pedestal, illuminated by soft ambient light...

Was a Celestial Jade board.

Sunny’s eye twitched. Despite his aversion, he was seriously considering asking Qingque for some of whatever she was having.