Star Rail: Starting with a Lyre, Living off Busking

Hearing Venti bring up this issue, Clara's expression turned somber.

"Mr. Svarog insists on following his calculations, so he won't agree to open the transport channels. He says that doing so would only lead to a sudden flood of homeless people from the Lower District overwhelming the Upper District, accelerating Belobog's decline."

It was, indeed, a painful reality.

When a stable community suddenly gets a massive influx of outsiders encroaching on their limited space, there's bound to be pushback and hostility.

Even though they were technically fellow citizens, the decade of information lockdown and physical separation had made this social bond more tenuous.

The Upper District wasn't exactly a comfortable haven either; plenty of displaced people were still camped outside Qlipoth Fort, waiting endlessly for the Supreme Guardian's intervention.

The people of the Lower District only wanted to find peace and safety. It wasn't just a survival instinct—it was a basic hope.

But, once again, the chance of the Upper District accepting them was slim.

Beyond the Fragmentum's constant encroachment shrinking the area where people could live, there was also the question of what those in power would do. At best, the Silvermane Guards might send the "stowaways" back down, avoiding a municipal crisis.

This could only worsen the divide between the Upper and Lower Districts.

Imagine—

People, fueled by hope, reach the so-called "Qlipoth Fort" only to find that their once-protective bastion holds no salvation, only deeper despair. What would they do then?

The Silvermane Guards, who were supposed to protect them, would become prison guards, with them cast as fugitives breaking free.

These citizens, having been abandoned once by the Supreme Guardian, would be judged by her own hand as "rebels."

No one would accept such a reversal, nor the idea of once-protective forces now wielded with brutal, authoritarian power.

Rumors, chaos, and internal strife would become the norm.

As the supposed "instigators," the Lower District would likely face severe backlash from the Upper District.

For the already fragile Lower District, this would be a devastating blow.

And anything that could threaten the survival of the Lower District would be on Mr. Svarog's list of things to stop.

If he remained steadfast, allowing only passage in and not out, then even if Wildfire wanted to help, they'd be helpless without resources.

Although Venti disliked assuming the worst of others and preferred not to burden Clara with such worries…

For the sake of the Lower District's future—and for the many challenges Clara would eventually face as a key figure—she couldn't avoid these issues forever.

The reason was simple: while Clara might not be the head of Mechanic Settlement, the largest robot force in the Lower District, her views often aligned with Svarog's goals.

This meant Clara's stance would heavily influence Mr. Svarog's own views.

But persuading a robot whose logic ran on "the survival of the Lower District" would take more than Clara's support alone.

Venti's real challenge lay in convincing Svarog to abandon his calculated predictions and believe in him as a wind of hope and change.

Too abstract a concept wouldn't convince a robot. Unless Venti could make Svarog "experience" this feeling, maybe by directly transmitting his data, he'd have to go through Clara…

But, he was Venti, not Shubi or Rick. Those options wouldn't work for him.

Stories often had scenes where "the power of emotions conquers all," and while it was touching—

If he took that route, especially with an innocent soul like Clara looking on, any "hero" bold enough to think that way should go straight to jail.

The hardest part of "getting to see Mr. Svarog" was, surprisingly, actually quite easy.

All he had to do was shout at the security robot at the gate, "Help me, Clara!"

Problem solved.

Still, even if he managed to get an audience, he wasn't sure how he'd sway Svarog.

The true challenge was in "quantity," not just "change"—change was an essential truth of the world.

Even the Aeons were not immune; they felt emotions, journeyed along their destinies, and could fall in the silent void of space.

Convincing Svarog he was the spark of change in the Lower District was simple. But convincing him that this change could bring about meaningful progress… well, that would take more than poetry.

Luckily, he had an idea.

Venti lightly touched the Vision at his waist, clear and jade-like, which could transform into his lyre, Skyward Harp.

Not only could it shift between these forms, but it could also become a bow, perfectly complementing his "forest ranger" look.

This Skyward Harp was what let Venti earn his living as a bard and occasionally pick off Fragmentum monsters like moving targets.

Wealthy people had even offered him prices high enough to let him live a life of leisure, lazy enough to last him until a real savior descended upon Belobog.

Yet he never considered selling it—this lyre had been with him far too long to part with. To most, it was merely a shiny trinket, destined to gather dust.

No one asked him its price again, sparing Venti the trouble of making excuses.

This was what sparked his plan.

Although Skyward Harp might only be a rare instrument here in Belobog, worth noting but not enough to make people "covet" it…

Rumor had it that Belobog had some artifacts, though records of them were buried in the Belobog Historical Museum, which had closed for renovation long ago.

Among them, the most famous relic had to be the first Supreme Guardian's lance.

Legend held that Alisa Rand, Belobog's first Supreme Guardian, wielded this lance to lead the people in a thirty-year war of defense against the Legion of Destruction.

Until—

The year before the Completion Era, Belobog was finally finished.

With the coming of the interstellar cold front, triggered by an unstable Stellaron, the planet Jarilo-VI entered an ice age.

If not for Alisa Rand's courage, using the lance to light the Flame of Preservation, Belobog might never have survived the cold front.

There would be no Upper or Lower District, no last bastion of humanity. Only a frozen dead world and the ruins of the forgotten.

Unfortunately, after Alisa Rand passed, no one could ignite the lance's flame again. Its whereabouts were shrouded in mystery.

Some said the Supreme Guardian kept it close; others that it lay gathering dust in the museum's collection. Still others believed it had rusted into scrap, standing on Everwinter Ridge.

Whatever the case, to most Belobog citizens, it was a relic symbolizing survival and preservation.

As to why it was classified as a "rare item," Venti didn't care to investigate; it would serve well enough to bolster the credibility of his next lie.

And for the sake of his story, he'd tell quite a few lies—lies that would deceive not just one person but the entire Lower District, and maybe even all of Belobog.

To avoid getting caught, he'd prepared thoroughly.

Seeing Clara's worried face, Venti gave her a reassuring, gentle smile.

"Don't worry. I'll figure out a way to persuade Mr. Svarog."

After all—

He'd slacked off long enough; it was time to stretch his legs.