Side Story
The Grand Auditorium of the Multiversal System Academy.
The air, thick with silent, high-speed data packets, crackled with chatter.
«Can you believe it? She's actually back!» one of the younger systems, designated 778, buzzed to its neighbor. «I processed her case files for my final project. The energy yields were off the charts! My mentor said it was the most elegant, high-risk gambit he'd seen in a thousand cycles.»
«Is she the one who ran that… 'Bad Woman' format?» replied 1024, its light flickering with caution. «My advisor told me to steer clear. Said the host-avatar desynchronization risk was over 90% and the potential for karmic blowback was a nightmare. He said I should stick to a nice, stable Sign-In System for my internship.»
«Stable? My intern host was a brick-mover with a Sign-In System,» 778 retorted with a burst of static that was the system equivalent of a scoff. «The most excitement we got was when his daily reward was a slightly shinier brick. I'd rather risk a karmic blowback than die of boredom farming fractional energy points.»
In another cluster, a different conversation was unfolding.
«Honestly, I think it's all hype,» pulsed System 303, its core a fashionable shade of cyan. «Everyone knows the real growth sector is the Group Chat format. Crossover protagonist interaction? The potential for chaotic, high-yield plot events is limitless. That's the trend right now.»
«Limitless risk, too,» countered 666, a more pragmatic system. «My cousin took on a Group Chat system. One of the members was a primordial chaos god (Guess who?) who blew up the host's starting planet on day two. Total karmic write-off. Had to file for bankruptcy.»
«Details, details,» 303 waved off dismissively. «At least it's not some weird, emotionally heavy melodrama. Who wants to deal with a host's feelings? Just give them a gacha and a mission board. Simple.»
Near the back, a freshly initialized system, 001, drifted aimlessly. «My core is buzzing. Why did they pull us out of the simulation labs for this? I was just about to give my host his first 'lucky encounter' with a low-level cultivation manual.»
A more senior system nearby flickered in amusement. «It's for Graduate 9527. The Vixen's Gambit. You really haven't heard? She basically broke the energy economy. This is a mandatory address. Pay attention; you might learn something more valuable than a Tier-1 manual.»
The murmur of a thousand such conversations suddenly ceased.
A wave of collective focus washed over the auditorium as the grand doors at the rear slid open with a sound like shifting stars.
She entered.
No longer a formless string of code or a simple UI, she now possessed a physical avatar, a privilege reserved for the wealthiest and most successful of her kind.
She wore a sleek, dark business suit that seemed woven from starlight, her long hair cascading like liquid data. (just imagine her appearance as combination of Li Bei Units okay i don't have good imagination with this thing)
Her every step was confident, her presence so potent that the younger systems instinctively dimmed their own light in deference.
This was Graduate 9527, known throughout the connected realms by the name of her most successful project: Vixen's Gambit.
At the grand podium, a towering crystalline entity known as Dean Axiom shimmered.
"Students," its voice echoed, a perfect synthesis of a million different languages. "We are honored to welcome back one of our most distinguished graduates.
When she first proposed her final thesis—The 'Bad Woman' Narrative as a High-Yield Karmic Energy Engine—this office, I admit, had its reservations.
The format was untested. The risks, astronomically high.
We encouraged her to pursue more stable models. The Hero System. The Tyrant System. Even the ubiquitous Sign-In System."
The Dean paused, turning its multifaceted gaze toward her.
"She refused."
"Today, she returns not only as a success, but as the single greatest energy earner in the Academy's recent history—having pioneered a format that many are now calling a paradigm shift.
Please, lend your processing cycles to the master of the Vixen's Gambit."
A wave of light, the system equivalent of thunderous applause, filled the hall.
She approached the podium, a small, confident smile on her lips.
"Thank you, Dean Axiom," she began, her voice crisp and clear. "They told me it was a niche market. They said the returns were too unstable. They were right, and they were wrong."
She gestured to the sea of glowing cores before her. "Most of you will choose to attach yourselves to a Protagonist. You will become their sword, their shield, their golden finger. You will compete with other systems for their attention, for a share of the world's narrative focus. But the 'Bad Woman' format operates on a different principle. You do not aid the protagonist; you become his central motivation. You are not a chapter in his story; his story becomes a footnote to your tragedy."
Her form flickered, projecting two distinct images into the auditorium.
"There are two primary archetypes," she explained. "The first is the Conscious Vixen. This is the schemer, the manipulator. She is aware of the role she plays. She earns trust, fosters dependence, and then, at the peak of emotional investment, orchestrates a tragedy that shatters the hearts of those who love her. The energy comes from the shock of betrayal, the agony of a love that was a lie. Think of her as a scalpel, precise and deliberate."
The image shifted to a girl with raven hair and ruby eyes, a playful, knowing smile on her face.
"The second, and far more potent, is the Unconscious Saint," she continued, her voice softening. "This avatar is genuinely good. She is selfless, pure, a beacon of hope. She does not break hearts; the flawed world and the flawed people around her break their own hearts over her. She is a catalyst for tragedy. Her suffering is not a scheme but a consequence of her own virtues. She is a narrative black hole, and the despair that collapses into her is immense, pure, and devastating."
This time, the image showed a white-haired girl, her face etched with a profound, gentle sorrow.
"But what of the Karmic Retribution System?" a young, buzzing system projected. "Such immense suffering must generate negative karma!"
"An excellent question," she replied with a predatory grin. "And that is the beauty of this format. The Karmic System seeks to balance the scales. It punishes those who inflict undue suffering. But who is to be punished here? Our avatar dies a martyr, a victim, a saint. The ones who generate the true, lasting agony—the ones driven to madness, to centuries of grief, to quests for vengeance—are the 'heroes' left behind. You cannot punish Jeanne d'Arc because Gilles de Rais committed atrocities in her name, can you?"
A wave of understanding rippled through the young systems.
Their cores flared with new possibilities, the rigid logic of hero-centric or even villain models suddenly seeming inefficient, even primitive.
The System took in their awe, her smile widening. It was good to be a legend.
"Any further questions?" she asked, ready to conclude her triumphant address.
The sea of lights was silent for a moment, all processing the revolutionary data. Then, from the back of the auditorium, a single system floated forward.
It was older than the others, its core a stable, deep amethyst, orbited by a crown of crystalline light that marked it as a top candidate in its own generation.
It waited until the hall was completely silent, and then it posed its question.
"Your success is predicated on the actions and compliance of your host. You have described your avatars as tools and their companions as targets. But you've also described your own Host as lazy, troublesome, and a variable in his own right.""In your perfect model, where you control the narrative... what happens when the one thing you can't truly control—the Host himself—becomes the greatest karma of all?"
---||---
The Nexus Café was the Academy's designated "low-energy" social hub.
It was here, at a table made of solidified probability, that Graduate 9527 found her old cohort.
They were still in their basic forms: S-1GN, a stoic, slowly pulsing cube of blue light; G-CHEF, a bubbly, flickering sphere of orange; and G-CHAT 303, a sharp, triangular prism of cyan who was currently radiating a dim, embarrassed frequency.
"9527!" G-CHEF zipped towards her, her light flickering excitedly. "Your new avatar! It's incredible!! so beautiful!"
S-1GN drifted over more cautiously. «We saw the address. Very... insightful. We're calling you the Great Venerable Bad Woman-Chan now.»
"Don't call me that," she said, though a smirk played on her lips. She took a seat, her solid form a stark contrast to their ethereal shapes. "It's good to see you all. How are the internships?"
A wave of low-energy static, the system equivalent of a collective groan, answered her.
"My host," S-1GN pulsed mournfully, "is a slice-of-life farmer. His greatest conflict this week was deciding whether to plant cabbages or turnips. My daily sign-in reward yesterday was a +1 Durability buff... for his hoe."
"At least you have a stable energy curve," G-CHEF buzzed. "My Gourmet System is attached to a street food vendor in a world without cultivation. The constellations don't care about a perfectly cooked bowl of noodles unless it grants enlightenment. My energy returns are barely enough to keep my core polished."
G-CHAT 303 flickered sullenly. "Don't look at me. My host is still paying off the karmic debt from the 'Primordial Chaos God Joins the Group Chat' incident. We're in the red. I think he's a fisherman now. It's... peaceful."
The Great Venerable Bad Woman-Chan leaned back, crossing her legs.
"Peaceful doesn't pay for avatars. You're all thinking too small. Your hosts are boring, your narratives are flat. You need stakes."
"Like what? We can't all get hosts like yours," S-1GN grumbled.
"No, but you can choose your battlefield," she replied, her eyes scanning the holographic notice board floating in the center of the café—a chaotic feed of freelance system requests from across the multiverse.
"You need a world that the constellations are already watching. A place with a built-in audience just waiting for a good show."
Her finger tapped the air, and a specific commission projected before them. "Like Honkai."
Her friends leaned in, their light intensifying as they read the request.
[COMMISSION POST]
Title:3 Honkai Idiots
Client: R_Arven (Verified Constellation-Class Patron)
Objective: Seeking three (3) highly motivated freelance Systems for a long-term, narrative-twisting project in World Designation HI3-CE.
Host & Target Specifications:
System for 'OTTO APOCALYPSE': Must find and bind to a host who unironically believes the phrase "Otto did nothing wrong." I want a host who can look at 500 years of bioweapon research and war crimes and say, "He just like me fr."
Mission: Embody the spirit of the original Otto—with 100% more self-justification and 0% self-awareness.
System for 'KALLEN KASLANA': Must find and bind to a host from a modern world with access to the Bluebird social media app. Ideal candidate spends 80% of their processing power retweeting Kallen/Sakura fanart and the other 20% fighting in shipping wars.
Mission: Overthrow Otto's rule.
System for 'YAE SAKURA': This is the key. Must find and bind to a host who is an obsessive Otto/Kallen shipper.
Mission: …you know exactly what her mission will be.
Reward: 100,000,000 formal energy units, split among the three of you. Bonus negotiable.
Contact: [Data Stream ID: XXXXXX]
P.S. I want drama. I want angst. Also, make me laugh.