"Yawn... What a boring day," muttered a young man in his early twenties. His features were distinctly Asian, with a touch of handsomeness, framed by long, wavy hair cascading down to his chest. Standing at an imposing height of 193 cm (6'4"), he cut a striking figure.
This was Rozen Itsuki, a transmigrator who had tumbled into a strange, otherworldly portal after a routine trip to the convenience store.
Awakening in a new world, he found his body regressed to that of a five-year-old child. Fear and resignation gripped him as he realized he possessed no cheat abilities or supernatural powers—only his ordinary human self in a universe teeming with danger.
By sheer luck, he had been discovered by Natasha, who took him in and raised him at her orphanage. Through her, Rozen learned the truth: he now inhabited the universe of Honkai Star Rail, the very setting of his favorite video game.
The revelation filled him with dread. This cosmos overflowed with existential threats—the planet-consuming Antimatter Legion, the devouring Swarm, godlike Emanators, and the incomprehensible Aeons, beings capable of annihilating galaxies on a whim. Worse yet, he resided on Jarilo-VI, the frostbitten planet destined to host a catastrophic clash between civilization and Stellaron corruption, with Cocolia's rebellion looming as the catalyst. For years, this knowledge kept Rozen paralyzed by paranoia.
Time, however, dulled the edge of his fear. Though dangers persisted, none had yet consumed his world. Gradually, he learned to breathe again.
"Looks like patrol's over. Time to notify John and head home." Rozen glanced at the clock before informing his coworker and departing.
Fifteen years had transformed him. He'd mastered Jarilo-VI's language in two years—his sharp intellect outpacing even locals—and absorbed every scrap of knowledge available.
Anticipating future crises, he'd relentlessly trained his body since childhood, defying Natasha's initial protests about his frail frame. Now, his towering physique dwarfed his peers.
Yet bitter truths remained. For all his strength, he remained merely human. Unlike Pathstriders—those who channeled the supernatural powers of cosmic "Paths" tied to philosophical concepts and Aeons—Rozen possessed no such gifts.
Despite countless attempts, no Path had answered his call. Perhaps his extradimensional origin barred him, or some deeper mystery eluded grasp. Either way, he'd resigned himself to ordinary life—a transmigrator stripped of grandeur.
"Sigh... I'm the shame of transmigrators. No cheat skills, no OP powers—just... this." Rozen trudged homeward, resignation and sorrow etched across his face.
"Enough. My life isn't that bad. At least I didn't end up in Fear and Hunger or Dark Souls." He scratched his head, shuddering at the thought. Those nightmarish realms would've driven him to despair. Here, he could still breathe.
"Rozen!" A familiar voice pierced his thoughts.
Turning, he found Natasha waving him down. "Sister Natasha? Do you need help again?"
"Sorry, Rozen, I hate to be a bother, but could you help me out?" Natasha said with a tone full of regret, her eyes reflecting discomfort at having to ask for help from someone she regarded as a little brother.
"Please keep the clinic running while I go fetch more medicine supplies."
"Oh? Getting supplies again?" Rozen raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised.
"Didn't you just collect medicine a week ago? How did it run out so quickly?" Despite his surprise, he agreed without hesitation. His gratitude toward Natasha was immense—he felt compelled to help her. Yet, he couldn't shake his curiosity about how the supplies were depleting so fast.
"Well, lately many miners and locals have been injured by attacks. It seems the number of Monster Fragments has increased far beyond usual," Natasha explained, her voice laced with unmistakable worry.
"That makes sense," Rozen nodded, his face suddenly showing a spark of realization. "Come to think of it, my last patrol did report an unusually high number of monsters. No wonder I've been feeling more exhausted lately."
"Then, I must be going now. Please take good care of my clinic," Natasha said, her voice filled with hope as she hurriedly left, her steps brisk yet purposeful.
Before joining the patrol, Rozen had frequently assisted Natasha at the clinic for several years. That experience had trained him well in handling patients, even though he never quite matched Natasha's level of professional medical expertise.
Upon entering the clinic, Rozen made his way straight to the sink. He meticulously washed his hands, letting the cold water run over his skin, knowing that cleanliness was the key to maintaining health. Afterwards, he donned his medical gloves and mask before approaching the waiting patients to check on their conditions one by one with careful attention.
As he busied himself caring for and comforting his patients with patience, the door to the clinic suddenly swung open, accompanied by the loud chime of the bell hanging above it.
A young girl stepped in—her striking purple hair and eyes shimmering under the clinic's lights. She wore a gently fluttering red scarf, paired with a leotard in shades of purple, white, and black, and black shorts. Her unexpected arrival immediately caught Rozen's attention.
"Natasha! Natasha! Where are you? There's a patient in critical condition right now!" the girl shouted urgently, her voice echoing through the previously quiet room. Rozen instantly recognized her as Seele.
With swift steps, Rozen moved toward her. "Sorry, Seele, Natasha went out to get more medicine supplies. Where's the patient? I'll do my best to take care of them."
For a moment, Seele's face fell into a brief frown upon hearing the news, but she quickly set aside her disappointment. Time was precious, and the patient needed help before it was too late.
Without wasting a moment, Rozen grabbed the first aid kit and rushed out with him following close behind Seele. When they arrived, a distressing scene unfolded before their eyes: a group of worried faces huddled around a man lying weakly on the ground. A severe wound gaped open on his abdomen and chest, with blood oozing slowly from his increasingly pale body.
"Clear the way! The doctor is coming through!" Seele commanded firmly, and the crowd quickly parted, making room for Rozen to approach.
Observing the patient's condition, Rozen furrowed his brow. He knew the situation was critical. The man's face was drained of color, his breaths came in short, labored gasps—a clear sign of life-threatening blood loss. Without immediate intervention, the man wouldn't last long.
"Everyone, please help me!" Rozen called out, his voice calm yet authoritative. "Cover his wounds with gauze while I stitch them up. Apply as much pressure as you can—if not, he may bleed out!" With swift precision, he opened the first aid kit, distributing gauze to those around him, then grabbed his needle and thread. His hands moved with confidence as he prepared to close the gaping wounds, determined to save the man's life.
With a deep, steadying breath, he prepares himself. Then, his hands—deft and practiced—begin the urgent task of stitching the wound: the needle slips in, then out, threading through the skin in a steady, life-preserving rhythm.
The motion repeats, relentless and focused, while the onlookers stand motionless, their breaths caught in their throats, suspended in the weight of the moment.
Hurry! Faster!
a voice urges silently within him. Every second is critical—if he doesn't act swiftly, this person will slip away too soon.
Rozen grits his teeth, his jaw tightening with resolve. Though his hands tremble under the strain, they move with remarkable precision, accelerating the pace of his stitching. Cold sweat beads on his brow, trickling down to soak his ears, a chilling marker of the tension coursing through him.
Fortunately, he's no novice, no helpless beginner frozen by inexperience. Years spent assisting Natasha, mastering the craft of healing—including sewing the wounds of countless patients—have forged his skill. It's that hard-earned expertise that steadies his hands now, pulling this patient back from the edge of death.
At last, with the final stitch secured and the wound fully sealed, Rozen collapses backward, his body crumpling to the ground in exhaustion. A long, shuddering sigh of relief escapes him, and as if echoing his release, the surrounding crowd exhales in unison, their faces brightening with gratitude and quiet awe.
"Fortunately, he's been saved!" one of the onlookers exclaimed, relief evident in his voice, while the others nodded in agreement, their faces softening with shared gratitude.
Perhaps sensing that he was out of danger, the patient finally succumbed to exhaustion and lost consciousness. Rozen's heart skipped a beat, a flicker of worry crossing his face. But as he watched the patient's chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm, the tension in his own body eased, replaced by a quiet reassurance.
"Take him to the clinic," Rozen instructed firmly, his voice steady despite the urgency. "And be extremely careful when carrying him—we can't risk the stitches tearing open." The men nearby, their expressions serious, lifted the patient with the gentleness of handling fragile glass. Rozen followed closely, his eyes fixed on the patient's bandaged wound, ensuring every movement was cautious.
Once the patient was gently settled onto the bed, his body sinking into the soft mattress, Rozen retrieved a fresh bandage from the nearby cabinet.
With practiced hands, he carefully applied it over the wound, ensuring it was snug but not too tight. After securing it, he stepped back, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.
Finally, he allowed himself to sink into a chair, the weight of the day's events settling over him as a deep sense of calm washed through his tired frame.
"What a day," Rozen murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He tilted his head back, his eyes tracing the cracks in the ceiling as if they held some hidden meaning.
"I thought it would be just another monotonous day, like all the others. But no—life had a surprise in store, waiting just around the corner. Truly, it's remarkable how unpredictable it all is." His words hung in the air, a quiet reflection on the day's unexpected turn.
A thick veil of drowsiness draped over him as exhaustion seeped into his bones. His eyelids grew heavy, drooping slowly shut despite his stubborn resistance. Yet, just as they threatened to seal, he snapped them open, fighting the tide of fatigue that urged him to surrender. He couldn't allow himself to succumb—not until Natasha returned.
To keep his mind sharp and ward off sleep, he turned his attention back to the other patients. His hands moved through the familiar routine of treatment, though his thoughts blurred in a weary haze. Then, piercing the fog of his stupor, a bold, resonant voice boomed within his mind.
[Ding! The Overpowered Chat Group has finally opened! Please access the system for more details!]
In an instant, the weight of tiredness and lethargy dissolved, swept away by a rush of exhilaration that electrified his entire being.
A system?! It's a fucking system! Hell yeah!
A wild, unrestrained grin stretched across his face—wide enough to make anyone nearby question his sanity. His trembling hands steadied only long enough to mentally summon the system. Before him, a sleek, translucent blue panel flickered into existence, glowing with a sci-fi sheen.
[Member:
Rozen Itsuki (Administrator)
Member Count: 1]
That's it?! No gift pack, no shopping feature, nothing?!
His eye twitched, a flicker of disbelief cutting through his excitement. The cheat he'd dreamed of, the one he'd pinned his hopes on, was turning out to be a letdown.
Am I really this unlucky? Whyyyy?!
His body sagged, and he crumpled to his knees on the cold floor. If this were an anime, his form would have faded to grayscale, a stark silhouette of despair against the vibrant world around him.
But luck, it seemed, hadn't forsaken him entirely. Just as he wallowed in his misery, the system's voice chimed again, crisp and promising.
[Ding! The Administrator receives a Gift Pack: a one-time chance to copy the power, talent, trait, or skill of any group member! Plus, a one-time opportunity to upgrade it!]
"What?! Is that for real?!" Rozen bolted upright, his face a vivid mask of shock and uncontainable joy.