With my chosen species confirmed, the character creation screen underwent a complete overhaul, unlocking new customization options I hadn't seen before.
Sections for halo designs and the wings behind the neck appeared, each with intricate details and ethereal variations that shimmered across the interface.
As I browsed through the newly unlocked features, carefully examining each design and combination, I realized just how much freedom this customization offered. Every glow, every feather, every shape felt meaningful.
I took the process seriously—painfully seriously. According to the system, the avatar I created here would become the body I'd inhabit once I was transmigrated into the Honkai: Star Rail universe.
This wasn't just about making a character.
It was about creating myself.
After spending a lot of time creating and adjusting numerous stuffs, I was finally done creating my body, and I was happy with the outcome. It was a mixture of what I used to look like, and what I wanted to look like, and the result is something I am proud off.
["This is who user 'Elena' shall be in this world. Confirm?"]
I looked over the character I had just created and confirm with the system that I was satisfied with my creation. The system screen for the character creation underwent minor changes to only show my avatar, before disappearing into nothingness.
As the screen went away, I felt my body change. I didn't feel my body at first, but now I was sure that I now had a functioning body.
The system conjured a full-body mirror before me, as if answering my unspoken wish to see the body I had just created.
Reflected in the glass stood a figure both unfamiliar and mesmerizing.Long, silvery-white hair cascaded nearly to the floor, strands glimmering faintly like moonlight upon still water. Resting on her nose were thin, black-rimmed peach-tinted glasses that framed a pair of soft, light-violet eyes—calm, yet carrying a quiet, unshakable warmth. Her skin was pale and smooth, the color of untouched snow.
A faint halo floated above her head, casting ripples of silvery light that brushed softly across her hair. Just beneath it, a pair of feathered wings unfolded behind her neck—small and elegant, their down fluttering gently with each subtle breath. When she moved, they shifted slightly, a natural rhythm that matched the rise and fall of her shoulders, as though part of her very being.
Silver crescent earrings adorned her ears, while sleek black wrist cuffs traced her pale skin. A form-fitting dress of black and white fabric embraced her frame, patterned with intricate details that blended medical precision with divine elegance. Draped over her shoulders was a pristine white doctor's coat, its hem swaying faintly, and on her feet rested a pair of modest black heels.
For a moment, I simply stood there—silent, breath caught in my throat.
That reflection… that being of light and grace
was me.
Pretty
Was the only thought that entered my mind as I was observing my body. Mixing my past appearance and adding things that I wanted, was the right choice. The avatar was beautiful. It was entirely different from just observing and adjusting through the system screen.
I slowly did a twirl, watching my reflection spin within the full-body mirror. The movement caused my coat to sway lightly around my legs, and for a brief moment, I simply admired the figure before me — graceful, composed, and undeniably different from who I used to be.
Once my small moment of indulgence was over, I turned back toward the hovering system screen. A new window had appeared, titled simply: [Character Lore].
According to the system, the lore I created here wouldn't just serve as background flavor — it would become my actual past. It would define my existence within the Honkai: Star Rail universe, shaping how others would remember and perceive me.
I didn't fully understand the mechanics behind it, but one thing was clear: whatever I wrote would become truth. If I claimed to have destroyed entire planets, then somewhere in that world's history, I would be remembered as the one who did. That meant every word mattered.
And once I confirmed it, there would be no rewriting the past — no undoing what I had declared myself to be.
So I took a breath, sat still, and began to write.
I drew from my previous life — from the woman who had once been a doctor, too busy healing others to heal herself. I wrote about her compassion, her failures, her quiet love for music that had once been her dream. I folded her humanity into this new identity, ensuring that even across worlds, I wouldn't forget who I was.
As I wrote, I discovered something within the system's data. Because of my chosen species, I was automatically categorized as part of the Family. I remembered fragments from the game — a few antagonists, a general sense of manipulation — and my heart tightened. I hadn't played far enough to know all the details, but I knew enough to be uneasy.
If I left that untouched, I'd become one of them. A member of a family built on false affection and control, the kind that would use even a person's dreams as chains.
I considered changing it. The system said I could, but only at the cost of other modifications. Choices and consequences — that was how this world worked.
After a long pause, I decided.
I finished my lore with careful precision, mixing reality with fiction, regrets with embellishments. I exaggerated where it mattered, refining my image — not perfect, but better. A doctor who had learned to defy time itself, halting her own aging through the mastery of medicine and the energy that sustains life itself.
In my written past, I had lived long before the current Astral Express crew. I had served aboard the Express during the age of Aklivi, long before its fall, even surviving the incident when Aha bombed the train.
When I finally placed my hand over the confirm button, I hesitated only briefly before pressing down.
My past — real or imagined — was now sealed.