Honkai: Star Rail – Banner Character, Delivering Knives to the Player [12]

As the saying goes, you reap what you sow.

Gift a player one special pass, and you might get thousands—tens of thousands—in return!

Lingzhou fell into thought.

Of course, giving gifts couldn’t be done casually, nor in bulk.

Once any in-game resource stopped feeling rare, its value would plummet.

In most gacha games, downtime was the norm.

Every new patch usually got devoured within a week, followed by a long wait for the next banner.

Persistent, meaningful content was key to keeping players around.

So, what kind of content should he create?

After browsing through in-game systems and pondering a bit, Lingzhou had an idea.

Simulated Universe and Memory of Chaos already had their reward loops. No need to interfere—and not easy to insert himself into them anyway.

In that case, why not take inspiration from daily activity quests?

He could design a sign-in system unique to himself.

Players would check in by talking to him, earning randomized daily rewards.

Include valuable pull resources like Stellar Jades in the pool, and the returns would roll in naturally.

That settled it.

Lingzhou got to work designing a personal in-game sign-in system and pushed it live immediately.

The pool of randomized rewards was kept simple.

First up: Stellar Jades, with five possible amounts—
10, 50, 100, 160, 1600.

The better the reward, the lower the odds.

Across each server, only 10 players per day could win the 1600-Jade jackpot.

Special Passes and Standard Passes were also in the pool, with three possible quantities each—
1, 3, or 10.

The 10-pull prize had odds equal to the 1600 Jade reward; Standard Passes had slightly better chances.

In addition, Lingzhou added a guaranteed fallback reward—
60 Trailblaze Power.

The justification was even simpler.

As the Express’s doctor, he was qualified to help people relax and recover from fatigue.

And once that fatigue eased… wouldn’t stamina naturally return?

So with stamina as a baseline and rare randomized bonuses as the cherry on top, even players who hadn’t signed a monthly contract would likely log in just to try their luck.

What was that saying again? A day without hope is a day without motivation.

Once it became a habit, players wouldn’t forget the character who gave them daily goodies.

With the sign-in system done, Lingzhou closed the editing interface, satisfied.

Just then, his communicator rang.

“Herta? What do you need from me?”

“Come to my office.”

“What is i—hm?”

The call had already ended. Lingzhou rolled his eyes slightly.

That reckless, rude attitude.

So what if you’re a genius?

I’ve mingled with the #1 of your Genius Society—why should I be impressed by a mere #83?

Still, grumbling aside, Lingzhou didn’t ignore the summons.

Genius or not, Herta was on good terms with the Astral Express crew. That kind of connection mattered—both in-game and out.

He passed through the automatic doors and entered Herta’s office.

“If you’ve got business, just say—”

He stopped mid-sentence.

“Aha. I knew it was you.”

Just as Herta’s voice rang out—irritated, but not exactly surprised—a stranger, stranger voice echoed through the room:

“Oh, you believed it? Look! The Simulated Universe’s processing power is swirling over like a lollipop’s spiral!”

“What, you thought He wouldn’t reply with a ‘ha ha’?”

Anyone else might not recognize the source of that bizarre voice.

But Lingzhou knew it all too well.

The Aeon of Elation!

He’d run straight into the Plague God.

He instinctively tried to slip away—but it was already too late.

The moment he moved, he felt a gaze—one not from this universe—lock onto him.

He’d been reborn how many times now? Yet every single time, that chaotic freak Aha could sniff him out immediately.

Damn it.

For now, Herta seemed unconcerned with Lingzhou’s presence, and simply scoffed.

“Ha ha, you think I actually believed that?”

“Machine-heads don’t give real answers! Doubt and questioning are the essence of thought—no taboos, no boundaries, no end—”

“Unless He just up and quits the job.”

“Aha’s got no dignity,” the voice chimed again. “I’ll stop bothering you now, ‘kay? I’m off~”

Herta: “You’re not going anywhere.”

“At least not for free. As compensation, ask me one question. No riddles or jokes.”

Aha: “Every time a mortal thinks, a machine-head giggles. Want to become a mock jester? I’ll peek at your soul and guarantee a daily dose of joy~~”

The animatronic Herta’s doll-like face twitched. Her expression shifted, visibly annoyed.

“Scram. I want Idrila.”

“Nyahaha~! Aha will now scram. Ah~~ someone told Aha to scram—Aha’s so honored~~”

Lingzhou: “…”

You’d better really scram, you plague-faced clown.

As Herta exited the Simulated Universe interface, she turned to the man sitting at her desk and curled her lip.

“How rude.”

“Guests are guests,” Lingzhou replied lazily. “And whose fault is it that your office doesn’t have chairs for visitors?”

Herta sighed.

“Dolls don’t need chairs. Whatever.”

“Look, I’ll let it slide since you helped out the space station. Now say it—what reward do you want?”

The Antimatter Legion’s attack had caused considerable damage.

Most of it didn’t concern her in the slightest, but she did care that Lingzhou had prevented the Stellaron from detonating.

That alone saved her a world of trouble.

“Then give me one of your dolls,” Lingzhou said. “The one on the Express that got repurposed into a drink mixer after the language module failed isn’t very usable.”

“You mean… the one Himeko nicknamed ‘Shut Up’?”

“Bingo. No prize for guessing.”

Herta was even more speechless. “You want to replace it with one of mine? Not to doubt your competence, but… can you even maintain one?”

“Nope.”

Lingzhou answered without shame.

“Exactly. I could give you one, sure. But do you expect me to do maintenance every time something breaks?”

“What, the great Miss Herta’s creations aren’t durable enough? That’s kind of sad.”

“Creating a flawless doll isn’t hard. But why bother, when I’m already perfect enough?”

At that, Herta’s patience clearly wore thin.

“Enough nonsense. My time is valuable. Want the doll, or not? If not, name something else.”

“In that case, I’ll pass,” Lingzhou said, changing his mind instantly.

Herta: “???”

“Instead, give her that bat-themed Curio and the light cone you took from the star rail’s cargo. Consider that the reward.”

“That’s it?”

Herta looked up in surprise, scanning him.

“That’s it. You know—she’s just been born, and needs proper gear to grow.”

Lingzhou wore a face of utmost sincerity.

“Fine. It’s been gathering dust in my collection anyway. But are you that sure she’ll join the Express?”

Her brow arched, curiosity piqued.

“And from the way you phrased it... what you really want is to let her choose her own path, isn’t it?”

Lingzhou didn’t hide his intent. He simply smiled.

“Whether she joins or not—that’s her decision.”

...

Negotiating with Herta turned out to be quick and painless.

Just as Lingzhou stepped out of her office—

A bizarre mask appeared inches from his face.

“Darling~ I’m heeeere!!”

---

T/N: fuck aha i got so confused because of the way he talks :sob:

This is a fan translation of 崩铁：卡池角色，给玩家发刀 by 三十度幻. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!