It was also the last story.
[Sailing Toward a Second Life]
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The greatest tragedy.
Is to reveal something beautiful, and then cruelly tear it apart.
At this moment, the audience undoubtedly, deeply experienced that feeling.
The buildup before was too strong.
Graey, Nick.
And the big sister, and those who were asleep.
The faces of those people, even now, when recalled, can still vividly appear in the minds of the audience.
That little girl holding and patting the guitar, always so cute and lovable, Boothill's "daughter", they still don't even know her name.
These beautiful things were so vivid.
But in an instant, they turned into flames and ashes.
At the very least, shouldn't these people have had a fierce fight with The IPC and die a heroic death?
Just like in those movies. Fighting back desperately, even if defeated, at least, at least, they should have died resisting.
How could they die like this, without dignity, dying so easily, so simply... without even seeing... that iconic last glance.
In the audience's minds, they couldn't help but recall Boothill quietly watching the fire all night.
No screams in the fire, no sound at all, only the crackling of the flames.
It should have been a good thing. But at this moment, it was unbearably cruel in its silence.
Human life as insignificant as grass.
This phrase, at this moment, had already become the true essence.
Pain! So much pain!
The audience felt as though their hearts were being torn apart.
This was different from crying out of being moved or shocked before.
It was pure pain and sorrow. To the point that the audience even began to hate the short drama.
By this point, even the dullest viewer could sense that this was absolutely not directed by Director Xia.
Because the entire film was extraordinarily rough. The camera straightforward, close-up, without any cinematic polish.
There wasn't even music, only dialogue and background noise. Dry and simple, almost like a documentary.
And precisely because of that, when all the buildup was ignited by that great fire, the audience's hearts were completely torn apart.
No emotional soundtrack.
A camera lingering nearly a full minute on a single frame.
Flames, smoke, Boothill. Such a "meaningless" long take should have been a taboo.
Yet in this short film, it somehow created a chemical reaction.
Making the audience, naturally, gradually recall the bits of happiness from earlier with time.
Faces flashing by. Freezing on that adorable face of a ting girl who had just learned to walk.
And all of it swallowed by the fire.
Shock, confusion, anger, sorrow. These unbearably suffocating emotions piled together, leaving the audience unable even to cry.
Their minds blank, like Boothill's, with only two words left.
The IPC!
...
On screen, the story had reached its final act.
How long had it been since Boothill's hometown was destroyed, no one knew.
At this moment, a man sat in a clinic.
"This road doesn't suit you. Get out. Go find a job or... get an education."
A short doctor muttered nearby.
The man didn't say anything and took off his clothes instead, revealing skin completely covered in scars. The doctor didn't stop her pestering.
The short doctor raised her eyebrows, but still continued nagging: "A young man like you deserves a better future. This road, on the other hand, belongs to those who have no other choice, people who can't start again anymore but still want to make evil pay..."
Boothill pulled out his revolver and pressed it to the doctor's forehead.
"If I wanted to attend class, I would've gone to get education." His words carried a threatening tone.
The meaning was clear. He came here today for one reason, to transform his body.
"Fine then. Even though a gun doesn't work on me, but... forget it, lie down."
The doctor shook her head helplessly.
The light above the operating table turned on.
Boothill lay down and closed his eyes.
Revenge. It was a task that required strength.
And The IPC was an immense, overwhelming force.
He needed a stronger body. The human body was frail, with its limits.
In the past, Boothill would never have considered such a thing.
Graey would nag in his ear, Nick as well.
They would constantly recount their glorious deeds, and those deeds shaped Boothill's values.
But sadly. They were all gone. Even his hometown was unrecognizable.
The only meaning he had left to live for, the only reason he must keep living, was revenge against The IPC, to take the lives of those who caused the massacre with death in return.
The crackling of electric current sounded from time to time.
Behind the curtain of the bed, the audience couldn't see the details of the operation.
But ever since Boothill entered with that silent demeanor, the audience couldn't help but think: during all this time, how much torment and pain did he endure?
...
: ...The aftershock is hitting, I suddenly feel choked up.
: Boothill survived purely by clinging to that one breath.
: He matured, but the reason for his maturity is so painful...
: I really don't dare recall the earlier story, especially that little girl's face. Every time I think of such a sweet child being swallowed by the sea of fire, I can't bear it.
: Stop, stop, I really can't take it anymore.
: When I first saw the fire, my mind went blank and I didn't cry, but now, I don't know why, the emotions just came rushing in.
: Ughhh, why must these endings be so cruel! Damn you, Company! Damn you!
: Boothill used to be such a cheerful person, and now he's become like this.
: So it turns out, the Boothill we saw in Boothill, that righteous, carefree Boothill, had such a painful past hidden in his heart...
: If it were me, I'd probably already have been crushed by such heavy memories.... probably gone mad.
.....
Boothill's maturity was the fuse. It completely ignited the emotions of the audience.
Sorrow, overwhelming anger, which then turned into deeper hatred.
"Congrats. You're pretty hard to kill"
The curtain was pulled open, the doctor set down the instruments and looked up, saying: "I have to admit, you're quite tough."
Boothill had already become the person everyone was familiar with.
A fully mechanized body, still the same face, only the corners of the mouth did not carry a smile.
"You thought I would die?" Boothill clenched his hands, those steel hands bringing him only a cold feeling.
"Most people will die, but not because my craftsmanship is poor."
"Good news, I've already died."
"Mm… what's your name? As someone lucky enough to survive, I should remember your name."
"Boothill."
"Then, happy 'Hunting', Boothill the Galaxy Ranger!"
The short doctor gave his blessing at parting.
But Boothill could no longer hear. He raised his head toward the sky, gazing at the stars, among them, it seemed another one lit up.
After gaining a mechanical body. He had another thing to do.
Boothill disappeared at the end of the road.
The narration echoed his thoughts.
"I returned many times to Aeragan-Epharshel, investigating the man who had ordered the genocide, only to find that his traces had already been erased from historical records."
"The IPC unearthed evidence of his existence."
"But I remember very clearly, his back, his voice, engraved into my heart, unforgettable for eternity."
The screen flickered.
Scene after scene alternated.
Some. Some were Boothill attacking company employees in search of clues. Some were purely against the Market Development Department.
Rumors of the mechanical cowboy spread everywhere, but the department sought to suppress them.
Finally. The wanted order was issued.
The IPC placed a high bounty on him, making him into a public enemy. But none of this was what Boothill truly wanted.
Every debt has its debtor. The ones he wanted to kill were only those involved in the Aeragan-Epharshel massacre.
Especially that man.
That man in his memory must have held a very high position in The IPC, otherwise it would be impossible to find no trace of information.
He seized the opportunity, using years of intelligence and wealth seized from The IPC, and found the "Garden of Recollection," but it was only a branch.
Of course. With his identity, even for a branch, it was impossible to be invited in as a guest.
So his way of entering was very unique, by force.
There, Boothill examined all the data related to his homeland, and finally, in a memory bubble, he learned that man's name.
"Oswaldo Schneider, Director of Market Development of the Interasteral Peace Corporation."
The voice and outline in the memory bubble perfectly matched Boothill's requirements.
Mechanical transformation was the first step. Revenge against the true culprit was the second.
His first life was dedicated to his family and homeland.
His second life would walk a new path, one that would never return to its original end.
"No place is truly impenetrable. If I can't find you, Oswaldo, can I not at least find your lackeys?"
Boothill's revenge finally had a concrete target.
The curtain fell. The story belonging to Boothill was finally told.
The audience, who had held back for so long, could finally speak freely.
...
: Damn! Why did they have to make such a bitter story into a film!
: I was crying the whole time, the impact is too much!
: Who even directed this? I was crushed by such blunt storytelling.
: The IPC really deserves to die! Especially Schneider!
: Bastard, disgrace of the trailblazers! You've shamed them all!
: What the hell is The IPC even protecting!
: This incident was way too vile. Killing without sparing young or old. To commit such crimes against humanity and still become an executive, unbelievable!
: Infuriating!
: Aventurine must have encountered the same situation. Luckily, they didn't reveal everything like they did with Boothill, otherwise people would immediately want to kill Schneider on the spot!
: After today, who knows how many more Galaxy Rangers will appear.
: After watching this, I'm ruined for the whole day. Too damn depressing.
...
The true culprit, Schneider.
He had already been nailed onto the audience's pillar of shame.
The hatred could not be suppressed. Alongside it was the audience's heavy sorrow.
That one scene of fire looked plain at first glance, but as time passed, it burned more fiercely in their hearts.
This purest sorrow and pain left many sensitive viewers choking, unable to shake it off all day.
Oswaldo Schneider.
He successfully became the target of collective condemnation. Many wished they could rush into the screen and kill him.
The greatest hope was that Boothill's next appearance would be in Schneider's office.
Best if together with Aventurine, to kill that bastard!
Only then would it feel satisfying.
...
: But speaking of it, this short film feels very different, the entire style and direction so plain and cold.
: Hiss… MiHoYo specially opened this column, could it be to make history?
: No way, if the very first short film is already this explosive, what comes next would be unbearable.
: Yeah, I don't think MiHoYo would be that cruel, to open a whole column just to stab us with knives.
: Mm… but I've got a bad feeling.
: Oh right, check the credits quickly, the director of this short film is actually Boothill himself?!
: Huh? The actor himself, self-directed and acted?
...
As time went on, people quickly discovered the uniqueness of this short film.
After learning it was personally designed and acted by him, all previous doubts were instantly answered.
No wonder the style differed from the main story. And it was so distinctive!
For a time, audiences didn't know whether to be happy or sad.
Happy, because maybe there would be more such stylish shorts in the future. But maybe these shorts… would all be knives, like this one!
Someone quietly posted a thread on the forum:
#Does anyone still remember that Honkai: Star Rail once called itself a space comedy?#
The replies underneath went wild with jokes.
...
: That's right, in this "space comedy" made by MiHoYo, you can see genocide, slaughter, betrayal, false accusations, divisions, but without doubt, it is a space comedy (sure thing).
: Warm and sunny space story (big lie).
: This comedy has so many knives, they even made a whole column just for them, we're truly blessed!
: Watching Honkai: Star Rail, every day you can pick a different knife, so refreshing!
: Only thing to say, never trust a single word coming from MiHoYo or the director!
: This Boothill knife cut so deep, I can't recover at all!