Honkai Star Rail (READER)

Blade - Tyrants on Iron thrones

To love someone who would sacrifice you for the sake of the world, or someone who would burn down the world on a whim for you. A choice of morals, marred by the ties of love. The world had eclipsed under the tyrannical rule of a monster, whose flesh was rot with blood of the innocents. Following the criminal exploits of such a vindictive ruler is to ascertain an indefinite spot within the depths of the fiery underworld. 

This fact alone was why you stood against the demon that sat crowned upon a throne of bones. If the world collapsed under his palm, you vowed to rise from the ashes, bringing the justice of the fallen.  You- the chosen hero, destined to-

"You're monologuing again, aren't you?" He asked with an exasperated sigh. 

"Err- no?" 

"You're as good a liar as the king is a compassionate man." Luocha laughed, hiding his bitter intentions under a soft veiled smile. 

"Fine. But someone has to stand up to him!" 

"Then, by all means take such ideals to the streets. Once you're shot dead, I'll collect your body for the morgue." The funeral director took a deep breath, fitting a mask over his ears as he began prepping another body to be displayed. 

The body came in recently, a protestor who had been knocked out on the streets. His vibrant blue hair swayed over his face, you looked upon him longingly, remorseful and grateful for his valiant sacrifice. 

Despite it being your job, you found such work distasteful. "This isn't right. Their bodies shouldn't be paraded around so...vulnerable. They only tried to fight against the injustice that man perpetuates!" 

"Unclench your fist, we have visitors." Luocha shouts at you hurriedly. 

The unfeeling steps of automatons vowed to the liege of the undead wander into the funeral parlor. Red beating eyes that blink as they approach the funeral director and yourself. They would be arguably more intimidating if they weren't blatant copies of titan warfare mechanisms. Such creations used to be in the favor of the people, now used as their constant oppressors. The sign of their allegiance noted by the large 'SC' painted on the hunk of their chests. 

"Release the body of the traitor, Sampo Koski. Entry date, 9:00 from the morning of the fifth dawn." The automated voice requested sharply, not leaving much of any room for protests. 

"Here. The tongue has been cut out as per request." Luocha brought the body he'd been working on over to the table. The king would only request the tongues of soothsayers to be cut from their tongues, this man was a brave soul to stand against him vocally.  

Though, as you peered solemnly into the casket you nearly gasped aloud. Luocha handing you a tissue and covering your face before the two robots could spot your shocked expression. 

"Very well." 

They carried the body off, ready to be hung upon a post in the middle of the square as a brutal reminder to the resistance of their futile struggles. Only, that wasn't the supposed traitor Sampo Koski, and instead young Phillip Watkins who died of a flu last week. 

"Owie- couldn't have warned me before shoving me in a closet? Not very hospitable my friend." The blue haired man winked, having caught your eyes staring in disbelief. 

"Did you bring the materials?" 

"You know I did! Sampo Koski- best smuggler this here resistance ever knew!" He boists, having faked his own death to bring Luocha a bag of requested items. 

"You need to lower your voice." 

"You're just jealous that your little apprentice thinks I'm cooler than you~" he jokes, Luocha pushing him out the back door as he heads for his next delivery.