Star Rail: Starting with a Lyre, Living off Busking

I'm finished.

The halfling scout darted through the dark cavern, frantically dodging shadows and clinging to survival.

He worked for the guild's intelligence division, tasked with reconnaissance missions that often required surveying dangerous terrain or gathering critical enemy intelligence. Such tasks varied widely in difficulty, from scouting goblin-infested hideouts to charting the lairs of dragonkin.

This mission wasn't as high-stakes as the latter, but its gravity was no less severe. He had been assigned to track down a cult's movements and ensure reliable intel was delivered to the guild.

His job wasn't to engage—just to observe, survive, and report.

He had survived similarly perilous missions before, relying on his race's natural talents and an uncanny knack for luck. Yet this time—

"No one told me these scum could summon creatures of that level!"

His heart pounded, and his thoughts spiraled toward panic. He could feel his usually sharp instincts dulling, his mind sliding into anger and fear. These symptoms, usually seen in rookie adventurers, now plagued him—a sign his psyche had been tainted.

Witnessing the summoning of a chaos entity had shaken his sanity. It had been all he could do to hide in the shadows like a rat, barely daring to breathe.

His vision wavered with ghostly illusions, each blink blurring the line between real and false. His steps faltered, his balance failing.

I need to get out before that thing finds me…

He whispered to himself compulsively, not out of unprofessionalism but as a desperate anchor to his remaining sanity. Repeating his objective aloud helped stave off the creeping madness—if only barely.

If he lost his grip now, the chaos entity would find him. He would become yet another dried husk among the corpses littering the cavern.

But persistence paid off. Finally, the oppressive darkness gave way to a glimmer of light ahead.

Hope surged in his chest, and he quickened his pace—only to collide headlong into something massive, coarse, and foul-smelling.

Thud!

The impact knocked him backward, landing him on the ground with a jolt. He looked up, dread sinking in as he saw what had blocked his escape.

"…Goblin?"

Standing before him was a hulking figure known among adventurers as a "Big Guy" or a "Bodyguard" goblin.

Its warty green skin glistened with slime, and its grotesquely muscular frame was at least three or four times the size of a typical goblin. Coarse hair and scraggly whiskers sprouted from its face, its goat-like eyes staring at him with cold indifference.

To it, he was nothing more than an unappetizing scrap of food.

The scout scrambled to his feet just as the goblin's massive fist came crashing down on where he had been moments before. Stones shattered under the blow, sending shards flying. The scout's quick reflexes had saved him, but his body moved on pure adrenaline now.

He wasted no time pulling an alchemical potion from his belt and hurling it at the goblin.

The vial shattered against the creature's chest, releasing a pungent, acrid vapor. The goblin reeled back, its enhanced sense of smell overwhelmed, its movements becoming erratic and sluggish.

Seizing the opportunity, the halfling darted past the lumbering beast, his diminutive size allowing him to slip through gaps in its reach. He burst out of the cave into the fresh air and warm sunlight, gasping with relief.

I made it! If I can just get to my escape route…

Whoosh!

A sharp whistle sliced through the air. A dull impact followed by a deafening ringing in his skull sent him staggering. Pain didn't register immediately, but his blurred vision caught the silhouette of a goblin crouching behind him.

"Keheh!"

It was a smaller goblin, slightly shorter than the scout but no less vicious. Holding a crude slingshot, it cackled with glee as it prepared another projectile.

Why are there so many goblins here?

Before he could process the question, a figure loomed over him—a goblin shaman clad in patchwork robes, its face obscured by a leather hood stitched together from the hides of its victims.

The shaman's elongated nose protruded from beneath the hood, nearly touching the scout's forehead. Its rank, herb-smeared hand reached out, pressing against his face.

I can't pass out here… If I do, I'm dead!

The scout struggled, thrashing weakly, but his strength waned.

The shaman clicked its tongue in irritation and raised a bone staff, striking the scout's temple with brutal force.

The sharp crack of the impact was like a signal, inciting the goblins into a frenzy. Dozens of them swarmed him, each wielding crude weapons, their wild shrieks drowning out his faint gasps for air.

Just as his vision darkened, a firm yet soothing voice rang out from the distance.

"Merciful Earth Mother, shield us with your steadfast embrace—Sanctuary Barrier!"

A golden light enveloped the scout, forming a thin but sturdy barrier around him. Goblin weapons clashed against it, creating showers of sparks, but the barrier held firm.

He blinked through the haze and saw the figure of a female priestess wearing ceremonial robes, a green pendant glinting around her neck.

She was not alone. Several adventurers stood beside her, weapons drawn.

The scout recognized them as reinforcements from the guild—the team sent to investigate the cult's activities.

I'm saved…

---

The halfling scout's relief was short-lived as he slipped into unconsciousness.

As soon as he fell, Mimiya reacted swiftly, drawing her bow and aiming at the nearest goblins. With a twang of her bowstring, multiple arrows streaked through the air, each one hitting its mark with lethal precision.

The goblins shrieked as the arrows pierced through their grotesque faces, leaving their lifeless bodies to collapse in heaps.

"Zaryus! The big one is yours!" Mimiya called out sharply.

Her hawk-like eyes had already spotted the hulking goblin bodyguard barreling toward them. The creature, having heard the commotion outside, had charged out of the cave and quickened its pace upon seeing the armored adventurers.

These "Big Guys" were typically survivors of destroyed goblin nests or rare atavistic mutations among their kind. Regardless of their origins, their hatred for adventurers was etched into their very DNA.

The goblin let out a guttural roar as it approached, but Zaryus met it with calm resolve, chanting under his breath:

"Claw of the Velocidrake, tear, soar, hunt!"

With his invocation, a shimmering scale vanished from his palm, replaced by a medium-length, curved blade resembling a velocidrake's talon. Armed with his summoned weapon, Zaryus charged forward.

As a former lizardfolk shaman, Zaryus was no stranger to magic, though much of his power had been stripped away after he left his tribe. This demotion was why his adventurer rank had dropped from silver. Now, he relied on abilities like his summoned claw and the physical enhancement granted by the "Elder Dragon's Strength."

The claw proved its worth as soon as Zaryus engaged the goblin bodyguard. Its razor-sharp edge tore through the thick layers of fat and muscle with ease, leaving deep, bloody gashes.

Zaryus snarled fiercely, his movements a flurry of strikes. In just a few exchanges, he had the bodyguard staggering from its injuries.

Though powerful, the goblin's strength was no match for a seasoned adventurer armed with proper weapons and experience. When the goblin faltered momentarily, distracted by a shaman's panicked cry from the cave, Zaryus leaped high into the air. Using his enhanced physical prowess, he brought the claw down with all his weight, driving it into the goblin's skull.

With a sickening crunch, the creature collapsed, its head leaking viscous, black blood.

The goblins' morale shattered as they witnessed the death of their leader and bodyguard. Screeching in terror, they fled in every direction.

They hadn't been idle before—many had tried to attack the adventurers—but their efforts were futile. Dan Heng stood like a fortress, his spear dispatching attackers with ruthless efficiency. Meanwhile, Stelle wielded a bat in her hands, her strikes brutal and unrelenting.

Though her expression was serious, it wasn't because of sympathy for the goblins. Stelle simply detested the nauseating sensation of smashing through their skulls. Some of her earlier blows had been so forceful that goblin brains had splattered onto her face—a disgust she could not shake.

Behind them, March 7th struggled to maintain her composure. Pale-faced but resolute, she loosed ice arrows from her bow. Each shot froze goblins mid-scream, leaving them to shatter or be trampled by their panicked kin.

Venti, meanwhile, stayed at the rear, overseeing the battlefield. With a flick of his hand, he sent gentle gusts of wind to blow away the blood and gore clinging to his companions' weapons and clothes.

When he noticed Stelle's unease, he created a subtle barrier of wind around her. The invisible shield kept blood splatters and grime from touching her, allowing her to focus without distraction.

In less than an hour, the battle was over. Not a single goblin escaped, their bodies littering the blood-soaked ground.

The overwhelming stench of death hung heavy in the air, though Venti's wind magic mitigated it somewhat.

"Phew… finally done. My arms feel like jelly," Mimiya said, lowering her bow.

Throughout the skirmish, she had prioritized the goblin shaman. While less physically imposing than the bodyguard, shamans were far more dangerous. Their intelligence allowed them to use basic magic and tactics, which could easily turn the tide if left unchecked.

Fortunately, the shaman's physical resilience was low. For an archer of Mimiya's caliber, it was a straightforward task to eliminate it before it could act.

"Still… why were there so many goblins here?" Fina asked.

She had kept her sanctuary barrier active throughout the battle, ensuring the unconscious scout wasn't trampled by the horde. Now that the danger had passed, she dismissed the barrier and turned her attention to healing the scout's injuries.

A soft glow enveloped his head wound as her "Minor Heal" spell closed the gash and formed a scab.

"Maybe it was just a migrating tribe," Zaryus offered.

As a former shaman, he was familiar with goblin behavior. They typically moved in groups, establishing nests in areas conducive to growth. Even if their nests were destroyed, they would regroup with other tribes, forming larger, more dangerous communities.

Having both a shaman and a bodyguard suggested this was no ordinary goblin nest. For silver-ranked adventurers or lower, such a group could spell disaster if ambushed.

"We got lucky," Zaryus continued, glancing at the halfling. "Looks like this scout wasn't so fortunate. Probably got surrounded before he realized what was happening."

After confirming the scout's guild insignia and credentials, Zaryus added, "He's an intelligence officer. We should take him back to the guild. He might know more about what's inside that cave."

Entering an unexplored cave blindly was a dangerous gamble. Without knowing the terrain or the enemies lurking within, adventurers risked being trapped or overwhelmed.

"What do you think, everyone?" Zaryus asked.

He deferred to the Trailblazers, knowing their reputation as a "heroic team" capable of defeating trolls and demonic generals. Whether they decided to press on or retreat would depend on their judgment.

The group huddled together to hold their first strategy meeting.

---

Hello! Thank you so much for reading this chapter. WiseTL has worked hard to bring these wonderful stories to you, and I'm so happy we could share this moment together! Don't you think stories are a little like dreams? Each one has its own colors and shapes, and they grow even brighter when shared with others.

If you'd like to support WiseTL, you can visit [patreon.com/WiseTL]. Even a small gesture is like sunlight and rain to a growing flower—it helps the garden of stories flourish and bloom!

-With love, Nahida 🌱