Star Rail: Starting with a Lyre, Living off Busking [38]

Once a Voidranger: Trampler, this creature had been forged by the Antimatter Legion in their war furnaces, blending the shards of warriors and ancient beasts into a powerful, mobile soldier. Though rare, Tempestcallers combined human intelligence with animalistic strength, and their howl could summon swarms of Voidrangers to the battlefield.

For thirty years, they had been at the forefront of Belobog's defenses. Worse still, when Fragmentum energy corrupted its form, this beast's power hadn't diminished; it had grown even deadlier.

With control over the winds, its attacks were swifter and far more unpredictable.

Frankly, from the outset, Seele knew this wouldn't be an easy opponent. No matter her confidence, even she had to accept the limits of her strength, or else she'd be fooling herself.

Her usual techniques weren't enough. To strike with any chance of success, she'd have to build up enough momentum for a decisive blow.

Or so she'd thought—until the battle actually began.

To her surprise, the fight wasn't going as badly as she'd expected. Bronya's mastery of the Path of Harmony had enhanced Seele's speed and endurance.

And even the busker… was pulling his weight.

"Care to join in the fun?"

The poet gently plucked his bowstring, summoning a wind that joined his music. The air itself seemed to break free from the Tempestcaller's control, forming a vortex that surrounded it, restraining its movements and building toward a whirlwind aimed at the beast.

As Seele watched in astonishment, the massive creature—one that looked unmovable—was suddenly lifted off its hooves, legs kicking helplessly.

Caught off guard, it let out a frantic screech, its instincts taking over as it struggled in mid-air. Desperately trying to release its arrow early, it left its abdomen open—a perfect target.

Seele's mind might have raced with surprise, but her body was already in motion. She slipped into the quantum space between existence and nonexistence, creating ripples in reality with each step.

From that hazy boundary, her scythe lashed out, cutting deep into the creature's underbelly.

Landing a critical strike on her first blow filled Seele with a surge of confidence. Her scythe, its edge glowing with a spectral purple light, felt light in her hands as she prepared for her next move.

The Tempestcaller, recovering from the initial shock, gathered its strength and tore itself free from the binding winds, landing with a resounding crash. The stone bricks beneath its hooves shattered, forcing Seele to back off and dodge the flying debris.

Having pushed Seele back, the Tempestcaller charged forward like an unleashed warhorse, its sheer momentum conjuring an aura of an entire cavalry charge, fierce and relentless.

The combined aggression of beast and warrior surged around it, raw battle fury seeping into the air. Its gaze settled on Venti, who was calmly nocking an arrow at a distance.

The Tempestcaller, realizing its earlier injury had come from him, fixed its sights on the poet.

Anyone else would've been frozen in fear by the ferocity of its bloodlust. Even Bronya, standing on the sidelines, could feel the pressure.

She understood what was coming. They either needed to halt the charge before it reached its peak, or stop it in its tracks before it made contact.

With no shieldbearer among them, taking a direct hit could be disastrous. Even if they survived, the impact alone could knock them out of the fight.

They had to rethink their strategy.

As Bronya began to move into a tactical position, her eye caught Venti—still standing in place, calmly drawing his bow.

Did he not realize how powerful that thing's charge was?

Seele, noticing this, couldn't hold back and shouted, "Venti! Quit aiming and move!"

Even Bronya, who knew of Venti's strength, felt a pang of worry.

But on the battlefield, words rarely traveled faster than the wind. Before they could warn him again, Venti released his arrow, his shot somehow perfectly timed.

Three brilliant green arrows arced through the air, each hitting the Tempestcaller in rapid succession: one struck its raised head, the second embedded itself in its chest, and the third arrow nicked the creature's shielded foreleg before landing in its hind leg.

Logically, wind arrows shouldn't have any effect on a creature so deeply resistant to wind-elemental attacks. And the Tempestcaller, bearing a natural resistance to wind, had no intention of dodging them.

Such a weak attack was nothing but a pebble against a fortress, or so it thought.

But reality was far different.

Instead of brushing off the arrows, the Tempestcaller felt an immediate disruption in its charge, as if the wind itself no longer supported it. Its movements became sluggish, almost as if it were flickering frame by frame like an ancient film reel.

Not only was it slowed down, but the wind it usually controlled now seemed to resist it, as if it were being dragged down.

It could feel the arrows disrupting its internal currents, as though Venti's wind was converting its own energy and eroding it from within.

A shiver of panic gripped the Tempestcaller as it realized this. It could no longer make sense of its own power—this was impossible!

The winds had turned.

The very crystalline wind structure that composed its body began to break apart, drifting toward the poet in whirling streams of song and melody.

It was unthinkable.

It was like someone swallowing a Stellaron and emerging unscathed.

Though nowhere near the power of a Stellaron, the energy drawn from the Fragmentum was still part of it, binding its body and fueling its life. But here it was, helpless against someone who could bend that power to their own will.

Could he be an Aeon's messenger? No, even a messenger wouldn't wield power on this scale…

Why would someone like that be here, on such a small, fragile world?

Lost in a daze of confusion, the Tempestcaller's thoughts were hidden from the others. Even Venti himself seemed taken aback by the newfound refinement in his abilities.

If before he'd simply gathered the wind's power and launched it outward, like swinging a heavy club, now he was using the subtleties of wind to achieve precision.

Like dropping chalk on piano keys to play a melody.

Drawing from elemental energy brought with it natural phenomena, after all. The ancient Barbatos had been able to play the Grand Ode of Flowing Winds thanks to this very authority.

And now, a mere warm-up had already revealed to Venti a world of newfound possibilities.

A streak of vibrant green flickered through his hair, and his cloak danced in the lively wind that buoyed him up. His hunting bow transformed back into a lyre, each note resonating as his fingers lightly touched the strings.

Though he resisted the urge to play a grand overture, he strummed a single note, and a wind wall surged forth.

The Tempestcaller, now stripped of its wind affinity, crashed headlong into the barrier, instantly shredded by its own failing, fractured form.

The screech of shattering wind-crystals echoed across the street. With its heavy erosion, the creature hadn't even had time to defend itself; most of its body was shredded upon impact.

The scattering wind filled the street, infusing the ruins with a strange, renewed vitality, as if breathing life into the dead town.

Seele, still reeling from her worry, almost felt like pinching herself. Was she dreaming? Hadn't Venti been the weakest of them?

Memories of her underestimations rose up, and Seele's face flushed with embarrassment at how she'd dismissed him.

Only Bronya, who had always sensed Venti's hidden power, finally relaxed. Her gaze grew determined, filled with new conviction.

Yes, Venti held the power to change the bleak fate of Belobog. He was their hope, the one who could reverse this city's despair.

But channeling this power in the right direction would be a challenge in itself.

It wasn't that she wanted to control him, nor did she fear he'd become a tyrant, but… could they keep leaning on his power without offering anything in return?

Lost in thought, Bronya wondered what she could possibly give him in return for such invaluable help.