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Chapter Text

[00:00...1,2,3]

The room was bathed in the cold, blue glow of a computer screen as Satoru removed his helmet, bringing an end to his virtual adventure. He felt the weight of exhaustion in his body as he struggled to stand, his steps heavy and labored. The transition from the immersive digital world to the real one left him feeling strangely empty.

With a sigh, he made his way to the fridge, hoping that some food might alleviate his sense of loss. But even the taste of the meal was soured by the knowledge that it was all over.

"It's over..."

The food felt tasteless as it passed his lips, but he knew he needed the sustenance before collapsing into bed. The days ahead promised to be even more exhausting. For as long as he could remember, YGGDRASIL had been his sanctuary, his source of joy and connection with friends.

But now, YGGDRASIL's servers had been shut down forever, and his sanctuary had crumbled to ashes. It was a bitter reality that he had to face alone in the confines of his dark room.

All the hard work, all the memories, all the camaraderie with his friends—all of it vanished in the blink of an eye. The pain in his heart was unbearable, but there was nothing he could do to change the outcome. Even his friends had long abandoned the game for their own reasons.

Satoru counted himself lucky for having a high-paying job, as it was the only thing that had kept him afloat. Others might not have been as fortunate. But even so, the emptiness left behind by the game's closure gnawed at him, leaving him adrift in a sea of loneliness.

"Good times do not last forever, they say..."

Satoru accepted his unlucky fate with resignation, unable to stave off the waves of grief that washed over him. He left his half-eaten food on the table and crawled into bed. However, sleep eluded him as he tossed and turned, the weight of his loss pressing heavily on his chest.

"Why... damn it, why? Why did they have to end it?" He muttered to himself, his voice trembling with a mixture of anger and sadness. Tears welled up in his eyes as he stared at the ceiling, feeling utterly and profoundly alone in the darkness.

"I can't..."

Satoru raise from his bed and grabbed from the drawer a rope. The day that he feared so much has arrived. Many young men that had terrible jobs with evil bosses that used them as slaves tend to buy a rope for only one reason... To commit suicide.

And Satoru has had enough. YGGDRASIL was the string that held together life and death and it was the only thing that gave him happiness, but now it was over for him.

The young man tied the rope in a place where it would not fall from the weight of his body. Satoru thought for a moment if this was the right decision but he had no nobody to worry about and nobody would ever care about him disappearing.

"Fuck this world!"

This man had nothing to lose in this toxic world. With this, all his everyday problems will be gone and only a corpse will be left.

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Satoru found himself in a place unlike anything he had ever seen before, a realm that defied all logic and explanation. The stark transition from his previous world to this one left him utterly astounded.

"What the?! Is this..."

It was a breathtaking sight—a massive colosseum, ancient yet magnificent, surrounded by lush, untouched nature. The sheer beauty of this place took his breath away, and he couldn't help but wonder if he had somehow arrived in heaven.

"Is this what heaven looks like?!"

As he contemplated the surreal surroundings, he marveled at the spectacle before him. It was as though he had stepped into a realm untouched by time.

"Wow, how come this place appeared right after I killed myself."

Curiosity overtook him, and he took a step forward, eager to explore this otherworldly realm. But his fascination was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a strange and menacing machine.

"Huh?! What is that thing?!"

The machine, an eerie droid, seemed to have detected Satoru's presence and was moving steadily towards him. Panic gripped him as he considered the possibility of malevolent entities in what he had initially believed to be heaven.

"Hey, this is heaven, right? There can't be evil machines here, right?"

Satoru instinctively raised his arms in a defensive posture and began to retreat, but the relentless machine showed no signs of stopping.

Just as fear began to consume him, Satoru noticed something extraordinary. He glanced down at his own body, and a jolt of recognition surged through him. His hands were skeletal, adorned with rings he knew all too well.

"Hold on a second!"

Satoru couldn't believe his eyes. He was back in the avatar of his character, the same one he had played in his favorite game, YGGDRASIL. The shock of this revelation momentarily overshadowed his fear of the approaching machine.

"No way, man?! No way!"

His skeletal form, his rings, his gear—they were all there, as familiar as ever. Satoru was in disbelief at what he was witnessing.

Meanwhile, the droid continued its advance, targeting the enigmatic skeleton that had appeared in its territory. It unleashed a barrage of missiles, which scattered in various directions. But every projectile was aimed at the skeletal figure.

Satoru noticed a protective circle that seemed to encase him, and the missiles harmlessly exploded against a magical shield. He didn't even flinch. The droid, undeterred, rose once more and continued its relentless approach.

"Interesting," Satoru mused, finally finding his composure. "My shield activated on its own from such weak attacks, just like in the game. Guess it's time to give it a try too."

With a thought and a command, he invoked a powerful spell.

[Dragon Lightning]

The surroundings darkened, and a brilliant bolt of lightning crackled into existence. In an instant, the electric fury struck the very core of the droid, reducing it to a million scattered pieces.

"So weak... but a good guinea pig to test my spell."

Satoru couldn't help but feel a surge of exhilaration. His skeletal avatar, his spells, and the familiar world of YGGDRASIL had all seemingly come to life. The adventure had only just begun, and he was eager to explore this mysterious realm that felt both thrilling and oddly nostalgic.

Satoru found himself in a new reality, transformed into the powerful avatar he had known from YGGDRASIL. He couldn't help but ponder the bizarre circumstances that had led to his current situation.

"So I died and now I have turned into my avatar from YGGDRASIL. Man, I hope this is not a dream because that would really suck."

The pain of his death and the transition from one world to another had felt all too real. There was no doubt in his mind that he was no longer a part of his previous life. He had become an entity, a memory, within the body of this formidable death god.

As he delved into his inventory, he made a shocking discovery. His inventory was filled with legendary gear, weapons, and even world items—objects of incredible power that should have been impossible for him to possess.

"I have the legendary gear and weapons?! How? This should not be possible!" he marveled, aware of the immense value of these items.

However, Satoru also knew the dangers of flaunting such power. Players with world items often became targets, and he had no desire to draw undue attention to himself.

"Nice, very nice!" he muttered, a sly grin on his skeletal face.

Surveying his surroundings, he noted that while some elements seemed reminiscent of YGGDRASIL, the landscape was still largely unfamiliar.

"Hmm, I wonder where am I..."

With a mere thought, he activated the ability to fly, soaring into the expansive sky. The freedom of flight filled him with exhilaration, but as he beheld the vastness of the new world, he couldn't help but be awed.

"Woah, I can fly for real now, so cool... Hold on... Damn, this place is huge."

The landscape below him bore some similarities to the worlds of YGGDRASIL, featuring vast forests, seas, imposing mountains, and towering cliffs. It was a breathtaking sight, and Satoru marveled at the beauty of this natural world, so different from the concrete jungle he had known in his former life.

"Hmm, maybe I should walk."

Cautious of drawing unwanted attention, he decided to alight from the skies and explore on foot. He shifted his gear to that of an assassin, concealing his skeletal visage with a black mask and a hooded cloak.

"Alright, let's move..."

With determination in his step, he embarked on his adventure in this new world, a world that held endless mysteries and possibilities, a world where the boundaries of life and death had been blurred, and he was determined to uncover its secrets.

Satoru ventured through fields, hills, and forests in this new world, encountering only weak creatures like slimes and animals, much like the beings in the worlds of YGGDRASIL and other games. His journey was marked by curiosity, as he explored ancient ruins and observed them from a safe distance, cautious of the enigmatic, pitch-dark creatures that occupied some of them.

To bridge the language barrier, he sent a ghost-type undead to observe and eavesdrop on these strange inhabitants. However, their language remained incomprehensible to him, raising concerns about communication with the intelligent denizens of this world.

As he continued his travels, he stumbled upon a small island in the middle of a serene lake. What piqued his interest wasn't the island itself but the towering statue atop it, a majestic figure with wings reminiscent of angels depicted in Catholic churches.

"Well, check this out."

With a jump, he landed on the island and touched the statue. In a sudden burst of strange light, the statue's energy flowed into him, leaving him mystified.

"What the hell just happened?!"

A sensation coursed through him, a newfound power he couldn't quite fathom.

"What can this be?"

He extended his hand towards the water, and a potent gust of wind erupted from it, causing ripples across the lake's surface.

"Interesting..."

This magic was unlike anything he had encountered in YGGDRASIL, a phenomenon that defied the game's mechanics.

"What is this statue?"

Before he could investigate further, cries for help reached his ears from nearby.

"Help?"

The word was clear and understandable, prompting Satoru to rush toward the source. He found a middle-aged man in distress, surrounded by the same menacing black creatures he had encountered earlier. Before the creatures could harm the man, Satoru unleashed his newfound wind magic, obliterating three of the creatures in an instant. The remaining three turned their attention to him, but Satoru drew his sword and dispatched them swiftly.

"Are you alright, sir?" Satoru asked, concern etched in his voice.

The man let out a grateful sigh. His panic and exhaustion were evident in his weary eyes. "Oh, thank you!"

Satoru nodded, feeling a sense of accomplishment. "Nice, I can understand him."

"Don't worry, sir," Satoru reassured the man. "Everything is under control for now."

The man's frustration spilled over as he muttered, "Those damn Knights of Favonius are useless to leave the roads unprotected."

"Knights of Favonius?" Satoru inquired, curiosity piqued.

The man raised an eyebrow. "Hm, are you not from Mondstadt, young man?"

Satoru shook his head, a touch of confusion in his eyes. "No... no, I'm not."

The revelation left Satoru feeling even more disoriented, solidifying the fact that he had entered an entirely different realm.

"Actually," he began hesitantly, "I'm not from this land, sir. And I'm lost, trying to find a town or a city."

The man considered Satoru for a moment, then nodded. "I see... well, I'm going to the city of Mondstadt. Come, hop on the carriage, young man."

Satoru's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and gratitude. "Can I?"

The man smiled kindly. "You saved my life and my carriage, so I will help you too. Let's go."

With gratitude in his heart, Satoru accepted the man's offer, ready to embark on a journey into the unknown city of Mondstadt and unravel the mysteries of this new world.

The journey with Tsarevich was an enlightening one. Satoru learned that Tsarevich hailed from the northern cold nation of Snezhnaya and was a successful merchant. Their conversations were punctuated with Tsarevich's disdain for the authorities of Mondstadt, whom he regarded as ineffectual and inebriated, lacking the strong governance he believed the city needed.

"So, your country, Snezhnaya... is ruled by a goddess?"

"That's right," Tsarevich confirmed. "She is the almighty Archon of Cryo, Tsaritsa, and no one would ever dare to oppose her authority."

The concept of gods ruling nations intrigued Satoru, but it also raised concerns. He wondered if the denizens of this world were familiar with undead beings, and if they perceived him as a threat. The mask and disguise he wore would hopefully shield his true nature, but uncertainty lingered.

"There it is, the city of Mondstadt."

As they approached the city, Satoru marveled at its imposing walls and iconic windmills. The city was perched atop a massive island, connected to the mainland by a sturdy bridge.

"Will the guards allow me to enter the city?" Satoru asked, his concern growing.

"Worry not," Tsarevich assured him. "I will deal with those useless knights."

Satoru couldn't help but note Tsarevich's deep-seated animosity toward the city's guards. As they neared the entrance, he braced himself for what lay ahead, a world both fascinating and filled with uncertainty.

Satoru and Tsarevich successfully entered the city of Mondstadt, bypassing the guards' scrutiny due to Tsarevich's familiarity with them. The city's relaxed and cheerful atmosphere was immediately apparent, resembling a medieval western European city. However, Satoru couldn't help but notice the uneasy stares he received from the city's residents.

His ominous attire and mask made him stand out amidst the peaceful population. Even the normally friendly cats hissed and fled from his presence. Satoru had a sinking feeling that he might soon find himself in trouble.

As he explored the city, he overheard a female voice greeting a young boy and a peculiar fairy-like creature.

"Let me introduce to you the city of wind, dandelions, and freedom."

Satoru observed the young knight speaking to the boy and noted that the newcomer also wore unusual clothing. It seemed the boy was from a different nation.

The conversation shifted to a topic of great interest to Satoru—the dragon known as Stormterror, which had been terrorizing the city. He absorbed every detail, recognizing the importance of this information for his future endeavors.

However, as they conversed, the sky suddenly darkened, shrouded by ominous grey clouds. The citizens and the newcomers noticed the abrupt change. From within the thick clouds emerged the massive form of the dragon.

The peaceful day gave way to chaos as the citizens fled in terror. Enormous tornadoes began to form, pulling everything in their path.

"Aether!"

The young female knight cried out, and Satoru spotted the boy, who had sprouted wings and was pursuing the dragon.

"Is he crazy?!" the girl exclaimed.

To her astonishment, she saw another figure pursuing the dragon, though this person was not using a wind glider.

"Who..."

Satoru closed the gap between himself and the boy who was relentlessly launching spells at the dragon.

"Need help?" he called out.

The boy acknowledged him with a nod.

"Good, I'll take the left side, and you take the right side." Once more, the boy nodded in agreement.

Satoru positioned himself on the dragon's left side, ready to assist the young boy in their daring pursuit of the colossal threat.

They were ready, the boy shot the dragon with many of his spells causing the dragon to lose a bit of control.

[Chain Dragon Lighning]

A huge thunder with the form of a dragon was unleashed toward Stormterror. The thunder hit the huge body causing the dragon to scream in pain. The sky turned into dark blue because of the impact.

Unable to fight against such force, Stormterror vanished through the clouds and left. Slowly, the clouds started to disappear, and the city turned normal again with a few damages.

Both of them landed near the cathedral, where a young female knight rushed to Aether's side, her concern evident.

"Are you hurt?!" she screamed.

Aether assured her, "No, I'm okay."

He then turned his attention to the tall figure who had aided him. "Thanks," he said.

"It's nothing," the stranger replied with a humble smile. "The city was in danger, so I had to help too."

Satoru respectfully began to step away, but before he could leave them to their conversation...

"Wait, who are you?" a fairy-like creature suddenly inquired, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Indeed," another individual approached, clapping his hands slowly. "Kaeya, good thing you arrived. The Stormterror is attacking Mondstadt itself!"

Amber, now flustered, remembered her manners. "Oh... right. This is Kaeya, our Cavalry Captain. These two are travelers from afar, Aether, Paimon, and..."

But when her gaze settled on Satoru, she couldn't help but feel a tinge of suspicion. He looked out of place, like one of those agents from Snezhnaya.

Satoru replied with a composed tone, "You can call me... Momon."

Kaeya, showing a keen interest, addressed Aether and Momon, "Aether and Momon, I won't ask any further questions right now, but on behalf of the Knights of Favonius, I would like to extend our thanks to both of you for your help just now."

Aether nodded, acknowledging their gratitude. "Well, we couldn't leave the dragon to go on a rampage and put the lives of the citizens in grave danger."

Kaeya offered praise, "Yes, many of the citizens saw the battle. The bards will have a lot of inspiration to sing about you two. Also, the Acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius is very interested in meeting both of you and formally invites you to our headquarters."

With a mix of anticipation and apprehension, the group made their way directly to the headquarters. Momon's unease lingered, knowing that questions about his origin or the removal of his mask could lead to complications he'd rather avoid. He silently hoped for a smooth encounter.

As they entered the headquarters, they were directed to a room with an air of opulence about it. Two stunning women awaited them there.

"Jean, I brought them," Kaeya announced as they entered.

The first woman was a tall, athletic blonde with fair skin and piercing blue eyes. She was dressed in a striking ensemble, featuring a strapless shirt that blended white, blue, black, and red, along with a long blue tailcoat that added an air of elegance to her appearance.

The second woman had fair skin, enchanting green eyes, and wavy, light honey-brown hair, which cascaded in a loose side ponytail. Her attire was equally captivating, with a purple and white dress adorned with open slits at the sides, intricately detailed with gold embroidery. She complemented her look with black gloves accented by pale purple trim, a grand witch's hat, black lace stockings, and stylish black high heels. An elegant earring adorned one of her ears, adding to her overall mystique.

The two women awaited the group with welcoming smiles, their bright faces signaling a significant encounter on the horizon.

"Mondstadt welcomes you, travelers. I am Jean, Acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius," Jean extended a warm welcome, her presence exuding both authority and kindness. She introduced the woman at her side. "This is Lisa, our resident Librarian."

"Thank you, sweeties, for helping us. You're so adorable," Lisa added, her voice as sweet as her words. The two women's camaraderie and warmth were immediately evident.

Jean shared their city's recent challenges, her gratitude for new arrivals apparent. "We've been facing immense difficulties due to Stormterror, and newcomers are a rare sight these days."

Amber took the floor, explaining the circumstances that had brought Aether into their midst. "This is Aether. I met him and Paimon outside the city during my patrol. He also helped clear a hilichurl camp. He is on a mission to rescue his sister from an unknown god who took her from him."

The heartfelt reaction from Jean and Lisa spoke volumes.

"That's so terrible!"

"Poor sweetie..."

Momon couldn't help but express his curiosity. "Unknown God? Well, that's weird. And they believe his story so easily... Does this mean that beings like gods roam these lands?" That reminded Momon of what Tsarevich said about his country being ruled by a god.

As the conversation shifted towards Momon, the atmosphere grew more serious. The decision to reveal the truth weighed heavily on him: should he trust these strangers with his secret?

Momon, thoughtful and cautious, took the floor. "Before I answer, I want to know something."

Jean, the Acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius, regarded him with curiosity, crossing her arms in anticipation.

Momon's question was one born of concern: "Are the people of Mondstadt hostile towards non-humans?"

Jean's eyebrow lifted, her eyes filled with a mixture of understanding and confusion. "That depends. There are bad non-humans and good ones, just as there are bad and good humans. So you are non-human, right? I guess you must have had a bad experience."

"Yeah," Momon admitted, a hint of past trauma resonating in his response. "That's why I have never removed my mask."

Jean respected his privacy, seeing the pain behind his eyes, and chose not to probe further. "My name is Momon. Great to meet you all."

Suspicion lingered in Kaeya's gaze as he questioned Momon's intentions. "What are your intentions in Mondstadt, mister Momon?"

Momon pondered for a moment before replying, "Hm, I'm not sure either, but I heard there is an adventurer guild in the city. Maybe I'll join them to travel freely."

Paimon, always quick with suggestions, turned to Aether. "Hey Aether, you should also join the adventure guild. The other nations might accept an adventurer first, rather than a total stranger. What do you think?"

Jean agreed, recognizing the practical benefits. "Indeed, you are right. Being an adventurer gives you passage everywhere you travel."

Aether, though inclined to accept the idea, couldn't shake his concerns about Stormterror and his sister's quest. "Right, I will also help in resolving the Stormterror problem, and I hope I reveal some clue about my missing sister."

Jean offered her support. "May the wind lead you to your dear sister, Aether."

Momon observed the group around him, their good-hearted intentions and desire for the well-being of all. While he couldn't deny their kindness, he couldn't help but harbor reservations. They seemed naive, believing that they could band together and thwart the mighty Stormterror. In Momon's eyes, the dragon was little more than an easy monster, a creature lacking any special significance. But for these people, it represented a looming nightmare they were determined to face.

Momon couldn't help but feel that the boy, Aether, was even more idealistic than the rest of their group. Aether's unwavering determination to find his missing sister while simultaneously embarking on a mission to confront a fearsome dragon struck Momon as a daunting task. Yet, in the unpredictable world they had entered, who knew what unexpected outcomes might emerge from their shared journey? The path ahead was uncertain, and the true challenges they would face were yet to be revealed.

Momon, with his own motivations and a touch of skepticism, stepped up. "I will help too, and I'll also help Aether find his sister."

Aether attempted to dissuade him, recognizing the journey's length. "The-There is no need to trouble yourself, mister Momon. My journey might be a very long one."

However, Momon revealed his own past, sharing his pain. "It's okay, Aether. I myself do not have a personal objective for now... My parents died when I was just a kid, and all my friends disappeared a long time ago. It's really heartbreaking to lose friends and family members."

Aether was touched by the gesture. "Momon... thanks, you will be a great help."

Paimon, always filled with cheer, welcomed Momon wholeheartedly. "Welcome aboard, Momon! Call me Paimon! We will be a great team!"

Momon had no grand goal; he simply wished to add some intrigue to his wanderings in this new world.

The group's leader, Jean, summarized their plan with determination. "Alright, we have a plan. Lisa has revealed sources of Stormterror's power with her detection magic."

Lisa added, "They are located in the abandoned Four Winds Temples."

Jean emphasized their mission's importance. "Our objective is to deal with three of the four temples. We need to act before the situation escalates."

Chapter Text

Starfell Valley…

The moment the commission was issued, the gallant knights of Favonius and intrepid adventurers sprang into action. Mondstadt, a picturesque city filled with warm-hearted denizens, erupted in applause and admiration as Aether and Momon made their way toward the city gates. Their heroic stance against the colossal wild dragon had earned them the adoration and respect of the entire populace.

A swell of pride surged through Momon's heart, basking in the euphoria of being hailed as a hero and embraced by his newfound name. The warmth of the people's admiration washed over him, like a comforting cloak that wrapped around his soul. In the midst of the crowd's jubilant cheers, an unsettling undercurrent of anxiety pulsed through the air. Behind that enigmatic mask lay the ominous presence of a death deity, capable of reducing this thriving city to rubble with the mere twitch of a finger.

After completing their registration at the Adventurer's Guild, the group dispersed, each embarking on a different path. Aether accompanied Amber to the Temple of the Falcon, while Momon and Kaeya set their course for the Temple of the Wolf.

Momon delved into the history of these temples, discovering their ancient significance as sacred places where the people of Mondstadt once paid homage to the Four Winds. However, the passage of time had rendered them desolate and devoid of visitors.

Now, in the wake of Stormterror's wrath, these once-revered temples languished in obscurity, their hallowed halls abandoned. As Momon and Kaeya navigated through a harrowing gauntlet of monsters, they finally reached the Temple of the Wolf.

Standing sentinel before them was a stone gate reminiscent of those found in YGGDRASIL, evoking a sense of familiarity in Momon. The dilapidated ruins surrounding the temple affirmed Kaeya's assertion that this place had truly fallen into complete oblivion.

"This is the Temple of the Wolf, Momon," Kaeya remarked somberly. "It's a shame that the people of Mondstadt have forsaken these once-holy grounds."

Momon glanced at Kaeya, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "You seem quite reverent, Kaeya."

Kaeya offered a faint smile. "Not particularly religious, but I hold a deep respect for the divine. How about you?"

Momon pondered for a moment, his gaze drifting upward to the sky. "No..." he replied, his thoughts briefly straying to the Norse Gods and Christianity from his own world. However, he quickly realized that discussing the religions of his world here might raise unanswerable questions. "No, I don't," he finally stated, keeping the intricacies of his own beliefs hidden away in the recesses of his mind.

"All right, we've arrived. I can smell something burning inside. Let's proceed, Momon," Kaeya suggested.

Together, Kaeya and Momon entered the temple. The entrance enveloped them in utter darkness, but as they ventured further, a remarkable transformation occurred.

"Umm, Kaeya, have we stumbled into another dimension?" Momon questioned, his voice tinged with astonishment.

"Quite surprising, isn't it?" Kaeya replied with a touch of regret. "It's disheartening that these sacred places are left to fester with monsters and nefarious groups."

For Momon, the experience felt remarkably akin to the domains of YGGDRASIL, and this world was gradually revealing itself as a fascinating enigma.

Their exploration came to a halt as they reached a platform beneath them. There, a horde of dark creatures reminiscent of those Momon had battled while rescuing Tsarevich awaited them.

"Hey, Kaeya, are those creatures goblins?" Momon inquired.

Kaeya shook his head. "Not goblins, my friend. Those are hilichurls."

The creatures, patrolling and guarding the gate that led deeper into the domain, were caught off guard as Kaeya and Momon leaped into their midst. The hilichurls attempted to resist, but the two warriors proved to be formidable opponents. Within moments, the area was cleared of the hilichurls, and the gate began to creak open.

Together, they dispatched any monster that dared to cross their path as they ventured further into the domain. Finally, they arrived in a vast chamber, where a radiant stone emanated intense energy.

"So Stormterror is harnessing this to amplify his power, huh?" Kaeya remarked. "Let's put an end to it, Momon."

"Alright."

[ Lightning ]

Momon's magic shattered the stone into countless fragments, causing the overwhelming energy to dissipate.

"Very well done! Mission complete," Kaeya congratulated.

However, Momon's expression remained cautious. "I'm not so sure about that..."

"Huh, why, Momon?" Kaeya inquired, a hint of concern in his voice.

Behind a massive pillar, a diminutive, masked figure materialized and hovered ominously. Kaeya marveled at how Momon had effortlessly spotted the concealed creature.

"The Abyss Order! So you're the ones behind all this!" Kaeya accused.

"Hahaha!" The masked figure cackled wickedly. "Foolish humans, daring to meddle in the Abyss's grand designs! You shall meet your demise here! Hahaha!"

With swift determination, the Abyss mage summoned a protective shield around himself, conjuring bubbles as a prelude to his impending confrontation. But his preparations took an unexpected turn when a fireball plummeted from above, causing a cataclysmic explosion. The Abyss mage was ill-prepared for such a devastating attack; his shield crumbled under the spell's relentless onslaught, and his body was incinerated beyond recognition.

Kaeya couldn't help but be intrigued. "Ohoho, impressive, Momon. The little mage never even got a chance to unleash his bubbles. I think we're quite finished with this domain now."

"So, what's our next step?" Momon inquired.

"I'll explore this room for the time being," Kaeya decided. "You should proceed to the Temple of the Lion. Don't keep the librarian waiting, Momon."

Momon arrived at the Temple of the Lion with remarkable swiftness, touching down discreetly to avoid drawing attention. At the temple's entrance, he spotted a woman engrossed in a book.

Hoping that she had just arrived, Momon approached her cautiously. "Oh my~ you're already here. Have you finished at the Temple of the Wolf?" she inquired, her tone suggestive of curiosity.

"Yeah, and Kaeya decided to stay back to investigate," Momon replied.

The woman's expression shifted slightly, a hint of disapproval in her eyes. "How rude of Kaeya to leave you all by yourself," she remarked.

Momon, however, was quick to dispel any discomfort. "It's quite all right," he assured her. "I find it even more disrespectful to leave a lady waiting alone."

Her cheeks flushed with a tinge of pink, and she looked at Momon with a fond smile. "Oh my, such a gentleman," she cooed, her voice carrying a hint of admiration.

Lisa couldn't help but be taken by Momon's demeanor. While she couldn't discern his true race, he exuded the charm and poise of a noble character from the pages of a romantic novel.

They stood poised at the entrance of the Temple of the Lion, ready to proceed, but a voice interrupted their advance.

"Hey! Wait for us?"

Amber, Aether, and Paimon raced towards them, their footsteps echoing in their haste to catch up with Lisa.

"Oh, Goddess, sweeties, please slow down!" Lisa implored, genuine worry lacing her voice.

Amber reassured her, "Don't fret, Lisa. We couldn't bear to let you venture into the temple alone."

Lisa, finding solace in their arrival, said, "Don't worry, Momon arrived just in time."

From the shadows of the gate, the towering figure of the dark warrior emerged, his presence imposing yet reassuring.

"Hello, everyone," Momon greeted them with a nod.

Paimon, however, was momentarily perplexed. "Wait a minute, weren't you supposed to accompany Kaeya to the Temple of the Wolf?" she inquired.

Momon's response carried an air of nonchalance. "Well, we managed to complete our task there rather swiftly, so here I am."

Amber marveled at their efficiency. "That was impressively quick."

Momon turned to Aether, and with a nod, he confirmed, "Indeed, Momon and I found ourselves concluding our exploration of the domain simultaneously. It seems like the perfect moment to venture into this temple and complete our mission."

As they ventured deeper into the Temple of the Lion, Aether couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. His gaze was fixated on the gem-like objects that Lisa, Amber, and even Jean carried. These intriguing stones seemed to hold a significant role in this world, and Aether was determined to learn more.

"Lisa," Aether began, his voice tinged with curiosity, "I've been wondering about those gems. What exactly are they?"

Lisa turned to him with a knowing smile, her expression hinting at the mystique surrounding these objects. "Ah, you're referring to these? They're called visions."

Momon watched their exchange closely, recognizing that this might provide valuable insight into the world they were now a part of.

Aether pressed on, "Visions? What are they, and how do they work?"

Lisa, with an air of intrigue, explained, "Visions are extraordinary gifts bestowed by the gods of this world. They grant their recipients the power to manipulate elemental forces. Those who possess these visions, known as Vision Holders, can harness their elemental abilities through these gems."

Momon absorbed this information with fascination, his eyes filled with wonder. The concept of divine gifts and elemental powers was a stark departure from the magic systems he was familiar with in YGGDRASIL.

"Thank you for explaining," Aether said, his appreciation evident. "It adds another layer of intrigue to this world." he thought

As they continued their journey through the temple, Aether pondered the mysteries of this world and the role of its gods, eager to learn more about the wonders and secrets that lay ahead.

Lisa's eyes widened with astonishment as she looked at Momon and Aether, the two enigmatic figures who had just single-handedly defeated a formidable dragon. The realization that neither of them possessed a vision, a coveted source of power in Teyvat, left her both intrigued and bewildered.

"Defeating a dragon without a vision? That's truly remarkable," Lisa exclaimed. "But if you're not vision holders, then just where do you come from?"

Momon wore a thoughtful expression, carefully choosing his words as he replied, "Our origins are a bit... unconventional. You see, we don't follow the gods of Teyvat, nor are we among the chosen ones they favor."

Aether nodded in agreement, adding, "It seems my circumstances are quite similar to Momon's. We've had to find our own way in this world."

Lisa couldn't help but be drawn into the mystery surrounding Momon and Aether. Her insatiable curiosity compelled her to dig deeper, but she sensed their reluctance to reveal too much about their past.

Momon's penetrating gaze locked onto Aether, the firelight flickering in his eyes, betraying the intrigue and curiosity that welled up within him. He had long suspected that Aether held secrets as profound as his own, secrets that tied them to realms beyond the borders of Teyvat.

In the depths of his mind, Momon couldn't help but ponder, 'Yeah, you are not from this world too, aren't you?' The words remained unspoken, hanging in the air like a silent revelation, a question that begged for an answer.

Their shared journey was filled with enigmas and challenges, and as they ventured forth, their unspoken truths would continue to knit the threads of destiny, binding them inextricably together in a tapestry woven with the mysteries of their origins.

Lisa pointed towards a towering structure that stood as their final destination. "There," she said, her finger directed at the imposing tower. "That's where we need to go. Paimon, could you fly over there and break the stone that Storm Terror is using to gain his power?"

Paimon's eyes widened with a mix of fear and reluctance. "EEHHH! I do not have the strength to break a stone!" she protested, clutching onto her companions.

With a resigned sigh, Momon decided, "Oh well, guess we'll fly there."

He cast a spell, invoking a magic known as [Mass Fly], and suddenly, the entire group ascended from the ground, hovering in the air behind Momon. Lisa, Amber, and even Paimon couldn't contain their astonishment as they soared through the skies without the need for gliders.

"What is this, Momon?!" Lisa exclaimed, her eyes wide with shock. "I'm really flying without a glider!"

Amber struggled to put her amazement into words. "Wow, we are really flying, flying," she muttered, her voice tinged with disbelief. She felt a lot like Paimon at that moment.

In what felt like mere moments, the group arrived at the pinnacle of the tower. Lisa wasted no time in grabbing Momon by the arm, her curiosity burning brightly. "How were you able to do that, Momon? What kind of magic was that?"

Momon revealed a necklace in the shape of a bird's wing. "It's just a magic item," he explained casually.

Lisa's eyes glittered with surprise as she admired the precious accessory. "Woah, that's pretty. An item like this would cost millions of Mora if it were on the market."

Aether, in the meantime, swiftly destroyed the stone, announcing, "Done! For now, Mondstadt will return back to normal."

As the group left the temple, they were greeted by a sky that had cleared of the oppressive storm. Lisa couldn't let go of her curiosity. "Momon, where did you get that item? It's so precious!"

Momon maintained his air of mystery. "Well... I have a hobby of collecting rare items."

Lisa nodded in understanding, acknowledging that he wasn't inclined to share further details. "It's definitely a rare one."

Amber suggested, "Should we report this to Jean?"

Lisa reverted to her usual composed self. "Oh yes. Let's go back to the city and inform Jean that the mission is completed." Their adventure in Mondstadt had taken an unexpected turn, but they had achieved their goal and were now ready to report their success to the city's leader.

Chapter Text

Aether, Paimon, and Momon returned to the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, their faces brightened by the success of quelling the storms around Mondstadt caused by Stormterror. As they entered the bustling headquarters, they spotted Jean in deep discussion with an enigmatic woman, her face concealed behind a peculiar mask adorned with intricate patterns.

The mysterious woman, sensing their approach, abruptly ended her conversation with Jean and cast an analytical gaze upon the trio. Without uttering a word, she gracefully turned on her heel and vanished into the shadows of the bustling headquarters.

Paimon couldn't contain her curiosity. "Who was that?" she chimed in, her wings fluttering with anticipation.

Jean sighed, her expression betraying a mixture of relief and concern. "Oh, you’re back. Thank you for your assistance. The elemental flow is now stable. Everything is calm for the moment." She glanced in the direction where the mysterious envoy had disappeared. "That woman is an envoy from Snezhnaya, and the Fatui are putting significant pressure on us."

"The Fatui? Those troublemakers!" Paimon huffed, crossing her tiny arms in disdain.

Momon, always intrigued by matters beyond Mondstadt, inquired, "Why the pressure? What do they want?" His eyes narrowed as the mention of Snezhnaya reignited his insatiable curiosity.

Jean's gaze grew more serious. "The Fatui's motives are unclear, but they seem to be tightening their grip on Mondstadt for reasons we haven't yet deciphered. Snezhnaya's involvement is particularly disconcerting. Their envoy didn't seem to be here for pleasantries. They say that the only way to save the nation is by killing Stormterror, but how can we kill one of the four winds?”

The mention of killing Stormterror, one of the four winds of Mondstadt, sparked a moment of contemplation. Killing an elemental force of nature seemed an impossible task. Perhaps there was an alternative approach to addressing the threat without directly confronting and harming such a majestic entity. Strategies like seeking alliances, understanding the motivations behind Stormterror's actions, or finding a way to pacify the elemental force might offer more viable solutions to save the nation without resorting to violence against a fundamental aspect of the world.

"So, Stormterror is more than just a creature. It's a national treasure, a symbol of Mondstadt. Restoring him to his former self is a task fraught with danger, and it might lead us down a path where the only choice left is to end his existence."

Jean, the stalwart acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius, met Momon's eyes with a mixture of resolve and concern. "That's precisely what keeps me awake at night. Stormterror was once a majestic guardian, a symbol of our city's pride. Now, to see him reduced to this... it's a tragedy. But the safety of Mondstadt and its people must come first."

The room they stood in, adorned with relics and mementos of battles won and challenges overcome, seemed to absorb the gravity of their words. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, mirroring the uncertainty that clouded their minds.

Outside, the wind whispered through the city, carrying with it the stories of Stormterror's reign of terror and the echoes of citizens hoping for a return to normalcy. The air was thick with a sense of responsibility, a duty to not only protect the city but also to restore the symbol that Stormterror once represented.

The atmosphere in the room grew hushed as Aether, with an air of mystery, announced, "Oh, I almost forgot. I wanted to show you something." The group gathered around the middle of the room, where Aether had unveiled something strange and enigmatic.

Jean furrowed her brow, her confusion evident. "What is that?" she inquired, her gaze fixed on the peculiar object that now occupied the room.

Aether held up the anomaly for all to see. "When we encountered Stormterror in the forest, he left this behind when he flew away." In the center of the room rested a red crystal, its form resembling a delicate teardrop.

Jean's eyes widened, her initial confusion giving way to a mix of curiosity and concern. "And what happened in the forest? Why would Stormterror leave this behind?"

Paimon chimed in with her usual exuberance, "Oh yeah, and we saw a boy there. Looked like he was talking with Stormterror, but the dragon spotted us, and soared into the sky right away."

"Could it be… Barbatos?!" Jean exclaimed, her shock evident. The mere possibility of the Anemo Archon being involved in such a mysterious encounter left a lingering sense of unease in the room.

Silence settled over the group as they collectively pondered the implications of their discovery. Minutes passed, and just as the weight of the revelation began to press on them, Lisa entered the room with her characteristic grace. Sensing the tension, she inquired, "What's going on here?"

Lisa's eyes widened with a mix of fascination and discomfort as she examined the mysterious crystal. "I've never seen such a thing before. I'll take a look through the library's restricted section, but let me take a look…" Her voice trailed off abruptly as a sudden, sharp pain shot through her fingertips when she attempted to get closer to the crystal. She recoiled, a shocked expression on her face. "This is such an impure crystal, and it hurt when I got close."

Paimon, always the curious companion, chimed in, "Eh, but Aether is completely unharmed." She turned to Momon, her eyes narrowed inquisitively. "Hey, Momon, are you able to touch it?"

Momon stepped forward and boldly grabbed the crystal, much to everyone's surprise. Nothing happened to him, and the crystal seemed inert in his grasp.

"I see…" Lisa mused, her scholarly demeanor taking over. "So it appears to react to Visions. Aether is able to use elemental abilities as well, but it does not have the same effect on you or Momon." She turned her attention to Aether. "You better keep this crystal because it might be too dangerous to leave it here."

Aether carefully cradled the crystal in his hands, a sense of responsibility settling over him.

Jean, her eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and admiration, addressed them with a sense of pride.

"Once again, you two have shown us that you are very special," she began, her voice carrying a resonance of respect. "Well then, the Knights of Favonius have another favor for you. Please accept the title of Honorary Knight and the gratitude of the Acting Grand Master."

"Honorary Knights?!" Paimon exclaimed, her wings fluttering with excitement.

Jean nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Indeed. Your exceptional deeds and unwavering dedication have earned you this title. It's a symbol of our trust and recognition of your efforts."

Aether and Momon exchanged glances, humbled by the unexpected honor bestowed upon them. The room seemed to glow with a warm sense of camaraderie as if the very air celebrated the union of these extraordinary individuals with the esteemed order of the Knights.

"Please," Jean continued, her tone earnest, "I ask for your continued assistance to bring peace once again to this nation. Your role as Honorary Knights comes with the responsibility to safeguard Mondstadt and its people from the shadows that threaten our harmony."

The trio emerged from the grandeur of the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, now adorned with a new title that marked them as Honorary Knights. As they stepped into the radiant sunlight of Mondstadt, their presence seemed to command a newfound respect from the citizens who bustled about in the heart of the city.

Paimon, the ever-curious floating companion, wasted no time in voicing the pressing question on everyone's mind. "Now, we promised to bring Stormterror back to his senses... but how do we plan on doing that?"

Momon, his stature now elevated by the bestowed title, spoke with a gravitas that matched his newfound role. "Just like the legends. We journey to his lair and confront him until he's on the brink of submission,"

Paimon, her wings fluttering with concern, questioned the approach. "Isn’t that a bit cruel?"

"Paimon," Aether interjected, his voice calm yet resolute, "it's a dragon. We don't have the luxury of gentle persuasion,"

"Exactly," Momon added, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. "Dragons have always been creatures of pride and arrogance. They won't easily accept being subdued by beings they see as nothing but lower life forms."

Aether, the Honorary Knight and bearer of elemental abilities turned to Momon with a hint of curiosity. "Uh, Momon, it sounds like you have a great deal of experience in that field. Stormterror, or Dvalin, as it says in the records, was supposedly a benevolent dragon,"

Momon nodded, his eyes reflecting the weight of past encounters. "Umu, yes, they were actually worse. Yes, they're paradoxically challenging opponents. Dragons are the pinnacle of power, but their downfall is often their own arrogance. If Stormterror possesses that flaw, we can exploit it to our advantage,"

Aether, grateful for Momon's insight, acknowledged, "That sounds like a solid plan," He felt a sense of relief knowing that someone with Momon's expertise was by his side to help save the city and possibly reunite him with his sister.

"Now, we just need to pinpoint where this elusive dragon is hiding," Momon stated.

"Well, allow me to assist you, oh heroes of Mondstadt!"

A melodious voice rang out behind Aether, prompting the trio to turn and face the source. There stood a bard with fair skin, captivating aqua-green eyes, and short, blackish-blue hair adorned with twin braids that gracefully framed the sides of his face, fading into a soothing shade of aqua-blue.

"The green guy!" Paimon exclaimed.

The bard's brows furrowed in mild confusion. "Green guy? Oh, I suppose it's my attire," he chuckled, glancing down at his forest-green clothes.

"Someone you know, Aether?" inquired Momon.

"We encountered him in the forest, engaged in conversation with Dvalin," Aether explained.

The bard stepped forward, a friendly smile adorning his face. "I am Venti, the windborne bard. I couldn't help but overhear your quest to bring Stormterror to his senses. I might have some insights on where the dragon could be hiding."

Paimon, ever curious, chimed in, "So, you're like, friends with the dragon?"

Venti laughed, a carefree sound carried by the wind. "Not exactly friends, but we've had our fair share of conversations. I might be able to guide you to his likely locations. After all, the wind whispers many secrets."

Aether, appreciative of the unexpected assistance, nodded. "We'd be grateful for any help you can provide, Venti."

With a mischievous glint in his aqua-green eyes, Venti responded, "Consider it a melody of fate, leading you to the dragon's lair. Let's embark on this symphony together, shall we? But first, we must obtain the Holy Lyre der Himmel.”

"But why? Why do we need that?" Aether questioned with a furrowed brow.

"The Holy Lyre der Himmel is a treasured relic of Mondstadt, once wielded by Barbatos himself. With it, we can coax Dvalin's gentle nature back from the nightmare he's ensnared in," Venti explained, his eyes reflecting the weight of the situation.

"Will that really work?" Paimon inquired, her curiosity evident.

"Of course, any treasures once touched by Barbatos are imbued with purity," Venti assured with a serene confidence.

"So, where is this lyre located?" Aether asked, ready to embark on this unconventional mission.

"It's deep within the cathedral, tucked away safely. The nuns, however, won't allow us to borrow it without proper documents, so we're left with no choice but to acquire it through more unconventional means," Venti revealed.

"So, we're going from heroes to thieves now. If the lyre is that crucial, I'll do it for the greater good," Aether resolved.

"Whoa, that's the spirit!" Venti exclaimed with genuine joy.

"If you're going to do it, take this." Momon handed Aether a mysterious ring.

"What can this do, Momon?" Aether questioned, examining the unassuming ring.

"Put it on your finger," Momon instructed.

Aether followed the advice, and to his surprise, he didn't see any change. However, Paimon's shocked expression revealed a different story.

"Where did he go?!" Paimon screamed in panic as her friend disappeared the moment he put the ring on.

"I'm right here, Paimon," Aether's voice reassured.

"Right now, you're invisible. You have one hour before the ring runs out of mana, so go quickly and make sure to leave every door open," Momon instructed.

"Right, I'm going," Aether affirmed, blending into the shadows as he headed toward the cathedral.

"Paimon, fly around the cathedral and wait for Aether," Momon directed.

"Okay, Momon," Paimon agreed, fluttering off to keep a watchful eye on their invisible hero.

“Well, let’s go and lend a hand. I'll play a tune in front of the cathedral to grab everyone's attention,” Venti declared, his carefree demeanor momentarily overriding the gravity of the situation.

However, just as he attempted to take a step forward, Momon's strong, gloved hand firmly landed on Venti's shoulder, halting him in his tracks. The sudden touch caused Venti to turn around, a quizzical expression etched on his ethereal features.

“Hold on, bard. Not so fast.” Momon's voice was steady, laced with a suspicion that cut through the air like a sharpened blade.

"Huh? What's the hold-up, Momon?" Venti responded, a note of confusion coloring his melodious voice. He couldn't fathom why Momon, usually a man of few words, would interject at such a crucial moment.

"The boy is quite foolish to fall into that hero of light path, but you can’t fool me," Momon continued, his gaze piercing through Venti's celestial facade.

"Eh, what are you talking about, Momon?" Venti's confusion deepened, and a nervous chuckle escaped him. He shifted uncomfortably under Momon's scrutiny.

“Lisa mentioned that Dvalin has been plagued by that wrath for centuries. You, having a friendly chat with a dragon in that furious state, is more than strange. You must be someone significant to him... Are you perhaps Babatos?”" Momon's words hung in the air like a revelation, and Venti felt a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead.

A heavy silence settled between them, and Venti's carefree expression turned into one of discomfort. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he struggled to come up with a response. The truth hung in the air, waiting to be unveiled, and Momon's keen intuition had brought the enigma of Venti's true identity to the forefront.

The bard sighed, resigning to the truth. "Well, looks like the cat's out of the bag," he admitted, his eyes glinting with an ancient wisdom beyond his youthful appearance. "Yes, Momon, I am Barbatos, the Anemo Archon. I've been watching over Mondstadt for centuries, and Dvalin and I share a deep connection."

"Is that so... Then why haven't you put a leash on your little troublemaker and saved the region from all this chaos?" Momon questioned.

"Let's get one thing straight, Momon. Dvalin isn't some mere pet. He's been my companion and confidant for over two millennia. We've faced countless battles together, and he's not just some creature under my control. Our bond goes deeper than that. As for the havoc he's causing, there's more to the story than meets the eye. Dvalin was grievously wounded and poisoned while defending against the corrupted black dragon known as Durin, 500 years ago. In order to heal, we both entered a deep slumber. Waking up 500 years later, we found a world where the once-revered Four Winds are forgotten, and people don't even recognize my true form. It suits me just fine, as it allows me to move freely in my own city without being bothered," explained Venti.

"Hm, so he was forgotten, and the Abyss Order seized the opportunity, manipulating the dragon into attacking Mondstadt because we uncovered their involvement," Momon mused, gazing at the vast expanse of the city below.

Venti nodded, his emerald eyes reflecting the troubled history that lingered in the air. "That is correct, Momon."

Leaning against the edge of a stone balcony, Momon furrowed his brow, his curiosity piqued. "By the way, why aren't you directly ruling this land? I've heard that other regions are governed by their Archons themselves,"

A mischievous smile played on Venti's lips as he responded, "Mondstadt is the land of wine, dandelion, and freedom. The last part means that Mondstadt does not have a ruler, so the citizens may live in freedom."

Momon raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "In a figurative sense, maybe. The truth is, that the city does have a ruler, and that role falls upon the leaders of the Knights of Favonius. Essentially, Mondstadt operates under a form of government, which is more military-centric. Right now, it seems to be thriving under the rule of the Knights of Favonius,"

Venti chuckled, his laughter echoing in the open air. "Ah, you've got a point there!"

"You're a god, so you may have a better understanding than me, but humans are incredibly greedy. Too much freedom often leads to chaos. It's like a cycle – hard times create strong men, and strong men create good times. Good times, however, create weak men, and weak men, in turn, create hard times," Momon philosophized.

"Momon, you really do sound like a god," Venti remarked, genuinely amazed.

"Huh, yeah, right… He is coming," Momon stated.

Aether removed the ring, becoming visible once again.

"Did you get it?" Momon inquired.

"Yeah, it's in the bag. Good thing I got there first because there was someone else after the lyre too," Aether replied.

The trio observed many knights converging on the cathedral, but they skillfully pretended to be engrossed in friendly conversation, concealing any hint of suspicion.

"The church is turning into a mess," Paimon observed as she approached.

"We must inform someone of importance about our plan. Returning the lyre to the church without a proper explanation could lead to Mondstadt labeling us as criminals once our mission is complete." Momon remarked.

Aether, maintaining a calm demeanor, suggested a key figure for their revelation. "Jean is the person we need to approach. I believe she will comprehend the reasons behind our actions. We can't afford to let Mondstadt misunderstand our intentions."

They returned to the Knights of Favonius Headquarters without drawing much attention, swiftly making their way to Jean's office. Knocking on the door, they entered to find Jean immersed in a sea of documents.

"Hello again, Jean."

Jean looked up, weariness evident in her eyes. "Ah, I know why you're here. You heard about the incident. Someone stole the Holy Lyre der Himmel. I can't believe it, first Stormterror, and now this."

Aether reassured her, "Do not worry about the lyre, Jean. We have it right here." He unveiled the sacred artifact and carefully placed it on the table. Jean, taken aback, rose from her chair in surprise.

"My god, did you catch the thief?" she asked, astonishment coloring her tone.

Silence lingered as none of them immediately responded, leaving Jean perplexed. Her suspicion grew, prompting her to pose a question she didn't want to consider. "Wait... was it you guys?" she asked, reluctance evident in her voice, conflicted by the heroes' past deeds for the country.

"We have a plan," Momon asserted.

"Explain," Jean demanded, her demeanor turning more serious. She needed answers, and she needed them now.

Momon stepped forward, "The bard here says that the lyre's tune will heal Dvalin from his sickness."

Jean crossed her arms, skepticism etched across her face. "How can I trust the words of some bard, Momon? The lyre only works if Lord Barbatos himself plays it, and he hasn't returned to Mondstadt for centuries."

Momon raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "I wouldn't have trusted him either if he was a mere bard, but this guy is the Anemo Archon." He pointed confidently at the bard, who met Jean's gaze with an air of quiet assurance.

"EEEH, wait a minute. You're seriously telling us that this pint-sized fellow is the God of Mondstadt?" Paimon's voice hit a pitch of disbelief that echoed through the room.

Venti shot Momon a playful scowl, wagging a finger. "Oh, Momon, do me a favor and keep my true identity under wraps next time, won't you? It's really quite annoying."

Jean, realizing the magnitude of her misconception, stepped forward, her expression a mix of surprise and remorse. She bowed gracefully before Venti. "My lord… forgive me for my foolishness."

Venti chuckled, waving away the formality. "No need for that. Please, rise. I've come to help and free my friend from this nightmare. Once it's all over, the Holy Lyre der Himmel will find its way back to the church."

"Thank you, my lord," Jean said, a blend of relief and gratitude in her voice as she straightened up, reassured by the god's presence.

"The Anemo power of the Holy Lyre has run dry. To rejuvenate it, we need Dvalin's teardrop," Venti explained.

"Dvalin's teardrop?" Aether reached behind him and retrieved the peculiar crystal he had taken during his first encounter with Dvalin. To everyone's surprise, the crystal, once crimson, now emanated a pure white glow.

"Haha, as expected of the Honorary Knight. You've spared us the trouble of hunting for the teardrop elsewhere," Venti exclaimed.

Momon, puzzled, spoke up, "Wasn't this crystal red just a moment ago?"

"Well, yes, but Aether managed to purify it." Venti took the crystal, and like a breath of wind, it turned crimson once more. "Why not give it a try, Momon?"

Curiosity sparked in Momon's eyes as he accepted the crystal. However, as soon as his fingers made contact, a ripple of ominous energy enveloped the crystal. The once-red hue faded into a pitch-black, as if some sinister force had been sealed within. The sudden transformation left everyone, including Venti, utterly astonished.

“What in the world… How is this even possible?” “SoVenti stood in awe, staring at the mysterious crystal before him. Its ethereal glow pulsated with an otherworldly energy that seemed to defy all logic. Paimon, always the cautious companion, cowered behind Aether, her wide eyes fixated on the mesmerizing spectacle.

"The crystal is scaring me!" Paimon exclaimed, her tiny form trembling with trepidation.

Momon, the enigmatic figure with dark energy swirling around him, felt a sense of unease. Deep in thought, he couldn't shake the feeling that this crystal held a connection to his own mysterious powers.

Wordlessly, Momon handed the crystal to Venti once again. As Venti touched it, an eerie stillness settled in the air. The bard's vibrant eyes glazed over, captivated by the crystal's enchanting allure. It was as if the crystal held the secrets to a forgotten realm, drawing Venti into a trance.

"Lord Barbatos... are you alright?" Jean, ever the responsible leader, voiced her concern for the Anemo Archon.

“Oh…” Venti, slowly returning to reality, released the crystal, allowing it to clatter to the floor. The once vibrant red hue of the crystal dulled as it lost its hypnotic grip on the Windborne Bard. Aether, ever the composed traveler, swiftly took hold of the crystal, his pure intentions seeming to cleanse it once more.

“Crap… That was my negative energy…”

As the radiant glow returned to the crystal, the air around them lightened, and the tension began to dissipate.

Aether held the purified crystal in his hand, its once ominous glow now subdued. He turned to Venti, uncertainty etched on his face. "So, Venti, what should I do with this crystal now?" he inquired, seeking guidance in the face of the unknown.

Venti, ever the nonchalant bard, flashed a carefree smile. "Yes, just drop it on the holy lyre," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of assurance.

Following Venti's instructions, Aether gently placed the crystal onto the holy lyre. A soft, melodic hum resonated in the air as the sacred instrument responded to the crystal's touch. Before their eyes, the holy lyre began to transform, shedding its tainted form and returning to its glorious, pristine self.

“Wonderful. Now we are ready to fight Dvalin,” Venti declared, his cheerful demeanor belying the underlying tension that lingered.

Despite his outward appearance, Venti couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that gripped him. Deep down, he shivered at the implications of what he had just witnessed. Something dark and terrifying had gathered within Dvalin's teardrop, and the events surrounding Momon's interaction with the crystal had left an indelible mark on the bard's mind.

Venti's gaze remained fixed on Momon, even as he spoke of preparing to face Dvalin. "I've never seen such dread power," he mused, his tone more contemplative now. "The kind that even gods would tremble at." Beneath his cheerful façade, Venti harbored a sense of foreboding, uncertain of what lay behind Momon's enigmatic mask—whether it concealed a human or a demon. One thing, however, was certain in Venti's mind: Momon's actions would undoubtedly draw the attention of the Heavenly Principles in the future, unleashing a cascade of consequences that even the bard couldn't predict.

Chapter Text

Venti, Aether, and the enigmatic Momon slipped away from the bustling streets of Mondstadt. Their destination lay southwest, following the winding path that led to the illustrious Dawn Winery. Jean, the stalwart Acting Grand Master, had discreetly suggested this route. Her connection with a particular individual at the winery, forged through recent collaborations addressing the city's dragon predicament, made it a strategic rendezvous point.

The Dawn Winery is the chief winery in Mondstadt and specializes in Dandelion Wine. Owned by the Ragnvindr Clan for several generations, its current owner, Diluc, inherited it four years ago after the untimely passing of his father, Crepus.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm cascade of colors across the sky, the trio reached their destination—the Dawn Winery. The last rays of daylight painted the landscape in hues of gold and amber as the shadows lengthened. At the entrance of the winery stood a solitary figure, a tall man with piercing eyes and a mane of fiery red hair. Clad in dark attire that seemed to absorb the fading sunlight, he awaited their arrival in front of his residence.

As the group approached, the red-haired man extended a courteous greeting. "Good evening and welcome," he said, his voice measured and composed.

"Good evening, Diluc. Allow me to present the Honorary Knights: Aether, Momon, and Paimon. And this charming bard here is Venti," Jean introduced the party, her tone conveying both respect and formality.

Diluc's eyes flickered with recognition as he acknowledged Venti."Yeah, I know that one. Are you planning to settle the tab for that bottle you helped yourself to three days ago?" he inquired, crossing his arms in a stance that exuded both authority and irritation.

Venti, undeterred by the accusation, responded with a mischievous grin. "Oh, you caught that, did you? Fear not, Master Diluc, for I come bearing reparations – a performance at the tavern, perhaps?" he declared, his cheerful expression contrasting with the sternness of Diluc's demeanor.

"Is that your idea of compensation?" Diluc uttered, his annoyance evident in the subtle furrow of his brows.

"Absolutely," Venti replied with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Consider it my way of adding a touch of melody to Mondstadt's finest establishment."

Diluc shook his head, an annoyed smirk playing on his lips. "You better make it worth it, bard."

Diluc's gaze lingered on each member of the Honorary Knights, his scrutiny assessing the weight of their words. "The Honorary Knights... your heroic deeds have indeed become a topic of conversation, even reaching beyond the borders of Mondstadt."

Jean nodded, her tone resolute. "And tonight, if we successfully handle Dvalin, there will be even greater tales sung about the bravery of these heroes."

Momon, with a humble demeanor, spoke up. "Jean, Master Diluc, we're not seeking fame. Whether it was destiny or mere chance, we found ourselves in Mondstadt when the dragon attacked. We didn't choose this, but we've accepted the quest and are determined to see it through to the end."

Aether chimed in, reinforcing their commitment. "We're not bound to Mondstadt, but we took up the mission, and we're invested in unraveling the mysteries surrounding it."

Venti, ever the whimsical bard, interjected with a grin. "And that, my friends, is what makes you heroes! Willing to dive headfirst into the unknown to aid the innocent, whether by fate or choice."

"Right, our next destination is Stormterror’s lair," declared Jean, her steely gaze focused on the formidable challenge that lay ahead.

Diluc raised an eyebrow, his concern evident in the furrow of his brows. "Stormterror's lair? Isn't that place sealed off by a storm barrier?"

Venti, ever the showman, stepped forward, revealing the Holy Lyre der Himmel. "Fear not, Master Diluc! We have this beauty right here—a secret weapon to dispel those storms and open the way to Stormterror's lair."

Diluc's eyes widened as he recognized the lyre. "Wait a minute. Isn't that the Holy Lyre der Himmel? The one the Fatui were after? I thought it was stolen."

Venti chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Ah, you've heard the rumors, have you? Well, rest assured, it's safe and sound in our hands. No Fatui mischief here."

Diluc sighed in relief. "Good to know. Just be careful with that thing. It's caused enough trouble already."

The group pressed on along the path leading to Stormterror’s lair, navigating through a canyon corridor that whispered with the secrets of the winds. As they delved deeper, the tranquility of the surroundings was shattered by the sudden appearance of a small force of enemies.

Hilichurls, the feral inhabitants of the land, noticed the group and charged recklessly, their wild cries echoing through the canyon walls.

“Prepare for confrontation!” Jean's voice rang out, a rallying cry as the hilichurls charged wildly.

Diluc, a tempest of swift motion, leaped into action. In mid-air, he executed a precise rotation, his powerful landing crushing two hilichurls beneath him. Harnessing the element of fire, he engulfed two more in searing flames with a swift elemental skill.

“HAAAH!” Aether, harnessing the power of the elements, unleashed a formidable tornado that swept up the remaining hilichurls. The creatures were flung in different directions with incredible speed, meeting their demise in the tumultuous winds.

“Great job, everyone. We are almost there,” Venti praised, his words carrying a lightness that contrasted with the fading echoes of battle.

As the group reached the path's end, the storm barrier loomed before them, a tempestuous force crackling with elemental energy.

“Alright, my turn now.” Venti, the maestro with the Holy Lyre der Himmel, played a mesmerizing tune. The storms yielded to the enchanting melody, unveiling a breathtaking scene—the serene night sky and the ancient city.

In the heart of the majestic Brightcrown Mountains, Stormterror's Lair stands as a haunting testament to the ancient glory of Old Mondstadt. This once vibrant capital, ruled by the formidable God of Storms, Decarabian, now lies in ruins, its grandeur overshadowed by the relentless passage of time and the destructive force of the mighty dragon, Stormterror.

Momon stood among the group, his gaze fixed upon the breathtaking sight that unfolded beyond the dispersed storm barrier. The ancient city lay sprawled beneath the serene night sky, its architectural marvels and enigmatic beauty captivating his attention.

The scene evoked a sense of familiarity within him, a reminiscent connection to another grandiose entrance—the mighty gateway of the Great Tomb of Nazarick. The memories of that colossal structure, with its imposing presence and untold secrets, resonated in Momon's mind. The juxtaposition of the ancient city before him and the recollections of the tomb stirred a mix of awe and curiosity.

As they approach the lair, the air becomes charged with an eerie energy, and the landscape transforms into a surreal dreamscape of towering cliffs and jagged peaks shrouded in mist. The remnants of Old Mondstadt's architecture peek through the overgrowth, telling tales of a civilization that once thrived under the watchful gaze of the God of Storms.

The lair itself is nestled within the craggy expanse, a colossal cavern veiled by cascading waterfalls that add a mystical ambiance to the surroundings. The entrance, flanked by ancient statues weathered by centuries of wind and rain, hints at the once-glorious entrance to the capital city.

Jean led the group towards the entrance of Stormterror's Lair with determination in her eyes. "This is it! We are now entering Stormterror’s Lair! Let’s move."

As they approached the bridge leading to the great tower, Momon couldn't help but be curious about the history surrounding them. "What happened here?"

Venti, with a hint of solemnity, began to unveil the ancient tale. "This is the old Mondstadt, Momon. It was constructed 2600 years ago by Decarabian, the God of Storms. A ruler with an iron fist, he held Mondstadt in his ruthless grasp. However, the people eventually rebelled, and they succeeded in overthrowing and killing him."

Momon raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Killed by his own people? That's quite a feat. How can a god be killed by mortals? There must have been someone else as strong as him." He cast a discerning gaze at Venti, half-expecting the bard to reveal his involvement in the ancient conflict.

Venti chuckled, an enigmatic smile playing on his lips. "Ah, the mysteries of history. Well, my dear Momon, gods can indeed be formidable, but sometimes, it's the strength of mortal will that prevails. The people of Mondstadt found strength within themselves to break free from oppression" He winked playfully.

As the group approached the bridge leading to the tower, a sudden upheaval in the air caught them off guard. A massive tornado materialized out of nowhere, blocking their path. Paimon clung tightly to Aether, while Jean instinctively grasped Momon's arm.

"Mom, you aren't budging an inch!" Jean exclaimed, surprised by Momon's remarkable resilience against the raging tornado.

"Just hold yourself there, Jean," Momon calmly replied.

The tornado dissipated suddenly, leaving in its wake the imposing figure of Stormterror himself. Dvalin landed on the bridge with a growl, his presence sending a shiver down the group's collective spine.

"Dvalin… You are suffering," Venti observed, a hint of sorrow in his voice.

"You have come… What has been done cannot be undone… BARBATOS!" Dvalin's voice echoed with a mixture of anguish and anger.

Diluc turned his gaze towards Jean, a realization dawning in his eyes. She understood the unspoken concern. The drunk bard of his tavern was none other than Barbatos, the Anemo Archon. Diluc would need to find a way to make amends for his unintentional disrespect towards his own god, a revelation that might reshape his perspective on the divine.

"Dvalin, I've come to help you!" Venti called out, his voice filled with a mix of urgency and determination.

But before the dragon could respond, a sinister presence manifested – an Abyss Mage emerged from the shadows, intent on disrupting their noble mission. With a chilling Cryo attack, the mage struck the Holy Lyre, damaging its sacred form. Venti, caught off guard, was pushed back, witnessing the Anemo power dissipate from the once-holy instrument.

"Do not be fooled by him, dear dragon," the Abyss Mage hissed, manipulating the situation to further enrage Dvalin. "He left you to rot alone! Now he attempts to deceive you once more."

“BARABATOS!” Dvalin growled.

"BARBATOS!" Dvalin's growl resonated through the air, his anger palpable.

Venti, resolute in his determination to mediate, stepped forward. However, Aether and Momon surged past him, advancing toward the enraged dragon. Aether's voice cut through the tension, calm yet unwavering, "Remember us, Dvalin?"

"You... You brought them here to slay me, Barbatos?!" Dvalin's fury reverberated in his voice.

"Yes! Yes! This is how he's trying to put a leash on you, dear dragon!" the Abyss mage jeered, further fanning the flames of anger.

"Enough… [Lightning]!" Momon's command echoed, and a bolt of lightning crackled forth from his fingertips, aimed unerringly at the Abyss mage.

"GYYAAAAAAHH!" The Abyss mage, attempting to activate his shield, was caught off guard. In a flash, the relentless lightning reduced the monstrous figure to mere dust, dispersing the threat in an instant. The air crackled with the aftermath of the potent attack, leaving a charged silence in its wake as the group faced the enraged Dvalin.

“You overgrown lizard, turning against your own master—have you no sense of loyalty or shame?” Momon taunted Dvalin with a sinister edge to his voice.

Dvalin roared, “I will crush you, insignificant human!” He raised his hand, ready to squash Momon like a bothersome insect. Aether swiftly used the wind current to evade the impending blast. However, Momon didn't retreat; instead, he confronted Dvalin head-on.

As Dvalin's massive blow descended, Momon did the unthinkable—he stopped it effortlessly with just his hand. The ground shook with the force, leaving everyone, including Jean, in stunned silence.

Jean, having closed her mouth in shock, couldn't believe her eyes. She had thought Momon was crushed, but there he stood, unharmed and seemingly unfazed.

“No way! How did Momon stop that?!” exclaimed Paimon, her high-pitched voice echoing the disbelief shared by everyone present.

"Seriously, that man has super strength, and here I was underestimating him in my thoughts a moment ago," Diluc muttered under his breath, a mix of awe and disbelief in his tone.

As Diluc grappled with the newfound understanding of Momon's abilities, Jean stood frozen, her mind racing. The truth was far more terrifying than she could have imagined. Momon wasn't just an exceptionally skilled warrior; he was something else entirely, an enigma hidden beneath the ominous mask and hood.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she took a step back, her eyes locked on Momon. The air around them seemed to crackle with an otherworldly energy, and Jean couldn't shake the feeling that she was in the presence of a force beyond her comprehension.

"So, you are one of the Four Winds, huh? I'm getting disappointed," Momon taunted, his voice carrying a mocking tone that fueled the flames of Dvalin's rage.

“You have a death wish!” Dvalin, undeterred by Momon's words, growled menacingly. The air crackled with energy as he unleashed a barrage of Pulse Bombs, each detonation sending shockwaves through the battlefield. However, Momon remained unscathed as he effortlessly dodged and weaved through the explosions.

Without warning, Momon raised his hand, and a powerful magic surged forth. "[Widen Magic - Wall of Skeletons]!"

A colossal wall of skeletons materialized, separating Momon from Dvalin. The bones formed an eerie barrier, blocking the Pulse Bombs and leaving Dvalin to face an onslaught of skeletal warriors armed with spears and swords.

Dvalin roared, his scales gleaming as he unleashed his fury upon the skeletal horde. Like a wild beast, he swiped and crushed the skeletons with his claws, their bones shattering under the immense force. Yet, the relentless tide pressed on, and Dvalin found himself ensnared in a macabre dance of death.

The massive wall, once a shield, now became a weapon turned against Dvalin. Spears and swords penetrated his scales, cutting through his protective skin. The dragon roared in pain, but his resilience kept him fighting, determined to break free from the skeletal onslaught.

Momon watched the spectacle with a twisted satisfaction, his mysterious powers revealing depths that left even the mighty Dvalin struggling.

“RAAAAAHHHH!” Dvalin's mighty roar echoed across the battlefield as he soared into the sky, shaking off the clinging skeletons that had embedded themselves in his scales. The dragon's eyes glowed with renewed determination as he prepared for the next assault.

Meanwhile, Aether, undeterred by the previous chaos, continued to assail Dvalin with a barrage of Anemo attacks, preventing the dragon from fully recovering. Each strike was precise, exploiting any opening and keeping the pressure on the mighty creature.

In response, Dvalin turned to face Aether and unleashed a devastating breath attack, a torrent of Anemo energy aimed directly at the intrepid traveler. The powerful gust threatened to overwhelm Aether, but before disaster could strike, Momon intervened.

"[Shield Wall]!" Momon's commanding voice echoed through the air, and an invisible barrier manifested around Aether like a protective cocoon. The Anemo breath collided with the unseen shield, creating a dazzling display of swirling energies as the two forces clashed.

Aether stood unharmed within the shelter of the shield, his eyes meeting Dvalin's as the dragon roared in frustration. Momon's spell had proven to be a crucial defense, shielding Aether from the full force of Dvalin's elemental onslaught.

Venti's heart sank as he watched Dvalin struggle against the overwhelming force driving him to self-destruction. "Dvalin, please stop hurting yourself!" he pleaded, the pain evident in his voice. The once free-spirited Anemo Archon now felt the weight of responsibility for the suffering of his dear friend.

“I will destroy you all!” Dvalin's response was a roar of defiance, his elemental power gathering for another devastating Anemo attack. The air crackled with energy, and destruction loomed on the horizon.

But Momon, the enigmatic figure standing in the midst of the chaos, remained unfazed. He spoke with an air of chilling confidence, "You want to destroy us but can't get past me? You need to chill and listen to your god."

Dvalin's fury intensified at Momon's words. "You! You monster!" he shouted, his anger echoed in the trembling ground.

Momon, however, responded with a cryptic "Huh..."

Confusion gripped everyone on the battlefield, their attention drawn to the exchange between Dvalin and Momon. Only Dvalin, in his draconic perception, saw something that sent shivers down his spine. A dark wind enveloped Momon, unseen by the others, an ominous force capable of snuffing out life. Momon wasn't just a formidable opponent; he was a monstrous entity, a threat not only to the Four Winds but possibly even to the Anemo Archon himself.

The revelation hung heavy in the air, a chilling realization that the true nature of Momon went far beyond what anyone had anticipated. As the battle unfolded, the line between friend and foe blurred, and the fate of Mondstadt hung in the balance, caught in the grips of an unforeseen and formidable adversary.

With a ferocious roar, Dvalin lunged toward Momon, his massive form charging with a speed that belied his size. Opening his gargantuan mouth, the dragon aimed to devour Momon in one swift motion. Yet, unbeknownst to the enraged beast, Momon had already enacted a silent spell, scattering Poison Mines strategically around Dvalin.

As the dragon closed in, the hidden mines detonated in a series of thunderous explosions. The cavern shook with the force, and horrified gasps echoed among the onlookers. Flames and toxic fumes enveloped Dvalin, distorting the once majestic creature into a silhouette of torment.

The aftermath of the battle left a heavy silence hanging in the air, broken only by Venti's desperate scream as Dvalin, the once-mighty dragon of the Four Winds, fell victim to Momon's cunning tactics. The Poison Mines exploded in a devastating display, and Dvalin's colossal form crumpled on the bridge before slipping off its edge.

"DVALIN!" Venti's cry echoed through the desolation, his desperation palpable as he rushed to aid his fallen friend.

The onlookers, including Jean and Diluc, stood in stunned shock. The battle had unfolded in a way none of them had anticipated. Momon had proven to be a force beyond imagination, turning the tides with a calculated ruthlessness that left Mondstadt's defenders questioning the nature of their supposed ally.

Jean, grappling with conflicting emotions, turned to Diluc to seek guidance. "Diluc, what do you think?" she asked, her voice laden with uncertainty. The warrior, known for his strategic insight, might hold the key to understanding the enigmatic being they had allied with.

Diluc's expression was grim as he surveyed the scene. "I think we are lucky that he is on our side..." he mused, his words carrying the weight of realization. Momon's power, though unsettling, had tipped the scales in their favor. But the cost, the sacrifice of a once-loyal ally, raised unsettling questions about the nature of their alliance.

Without waiting for further discussion, Diluc sprinted towards the fallen Dvalin. Jean watched him go, left alone with her thoughts and the haunting question of whether the battles of the past had been as brutal and morally complex as the reality they now faced. The hero she had envisioned looked more like a complicated figure, and the thin line between ally and adversary blurred in the aftermath of this unexpected confrontation.

As Venti jumped off the bridge, what met his gaze was a heart-wrenching scene. Dvalin, once a majestic and proud dragon, now writhed in agony below. The Poison Mines had taken their toll and the once vibrant scales that adorned the dragon's majestic form darkened with the insidious effects of the poison.

Miserable sounds of pain echoed through the abyss as Dvalin struggled against the poison's relentless advance. Each moment seemed to intensify the suffering etched across the dragon's features. The air resonated with the anguished cries of a creature brought low by the very forces it had unwittingly unleashed upon itself.

Venti, normally carefree and whimsical, felt a heavy weight settle in his chest. Guilt and sorrow gripped him as he witnessed the consequences of the conflict he had found himself entangled in. The wind dragon's suffering was a stark reminder of the delicate balance between power and responsibility.

The others, too, stared down in somber silence, their earlier triumph now overshadowed by the cruel reality of Dvalin's torment.

Momon and Aether approached the suffering dragon, their steps measured and purposeful, akin to angels of death. Diluc and Paimon, understanding the gravity of the situation, parted the way for them. However, Venti, unwilling to stand idly by, raised his arms like a protective shield in front of his friend.

"Momon, please, that's enough. Dvalin is going to die at this point!" Venti pleaded, desperation lacing his voice.

Momon, his masked gaze unwavering, halted in response to Venti's plea. The air hung heavy with tension as the wind dragon confronted the enigmatic figure before him. The bridge, a witness to the clash of powers, seemed to quiver with the uncertainty of the moment.

"Alright, but how do you plan to remove the poison?" Momon questioned, his tone revealing the practicality that underscored his actions.

Venti felt a sinking realization that he had no answer to Momon's query. The unknown magic unleashed upon Dvalin had taken a severe toll, and the dragon's condition continued to worsen with each passing second. The once vibrant scales now bore the stain of the poisonous assault, and Venti grappled with the weight of his decisions. The dilemma of how to save Dvalin, and whether it was even possible, loomed over them like a dark cloud.

Momon strode past Venti, determination etched beneath the mask that concealed his expression. The once-majestic Dvalin lay on the brink of death, his scales marred by the effects of the poison. Momon, however, remained resolute in keeping the promise of sparing the dragon's life. As he reached out, placing his hand upon the dragon's ailing form, a gentle light emanated from his fingertips, casting a soothing glow upon the wounded creature.

"[Heal]," Momon intoned, his voice carrying a calm authority.

In a matter of seconds that felt like an eternity, the Old Mondstadt was filled with a miraculous transformation. Dvalin's body once twisted in agony, began to glow with renewed vitality. The scales, once darkened and tainted, gradually returned to their original luster. The poisonous blood clots that had coagulated on his wounds dissipated into nothingness.

The onlookers, including Venti and the others, stood in stunned silence. In the span of a mere heartbeat, Momon had mended the devastation wrought upon the once-dying dragon. The Old Mondstadt, once a battlefield of conflict and despair, now bore witness to a breathtaking resurrection. Words failed those who had witnessed the seemingly impossible, and the air itself seemed to hold its breath in awe.

Dvalin slowly raised his head, his eyes meeting Momon's. "Why?" confusion and gratitude intertwined in his voice as he questioned the dark warrior who had unexpectedly saved him. The air was heavy with uncertainty as Dvalin couldn't fathom why his apparent slayer had a sudden change of heart.

"A promise is a promise. If it wasn't for him..." Momon's gaze shifted toward Venti, and a veiled threat lingered in his words. "I would have ended you without a shred of mercy."

Dvalin, torn between relief and lingering suspicion, wasn't sure how to process the revelation. It felt like a precarious balance, and the realization that another chance had been granted left him grappling with the weight of his actions.

Venti approached, concern etched across his features. "How do you feel, Dvalin?" he inquired, genuine worry evident in his voice.

"Much better... Barbatos... just now... why? Why did you not ask me to protect you like the last time?" Dvalin questioned, seeking understanding.

"Not wanting you to heed the Abyss Order doesn't mean you have to follow my every command,” Venti responded with a somber wisdom. “True freedom, especially when demanded by an Archon… isn't genuine freedom at all," Venti explained, offering a profound perspective on the nature of true liberty.

To seal the dragon's recovery, Venti conjured a spheric elemental Anemo energy, passing it to Dvalin. The dragon's body glowed with revitalized power, and he returned to his majestic, glorious form.

"This truly is the power of the Anemo Archon!" Dvalin exclaimed as his wings unfurled, catching the currents of wind that carried the essence of freedom. With a mighty launch, he soared into the sky, embracing the winds of liberation once more.

Venti watched with a mixture of relief and joy as Dvalin soared into the night sky, his massive wings cutting through the darkness. The wind dragon's majestic form against the backdrop of the starlit heavens resembled a proud father witnessing his son's triumphant flight.

At that moment, any lingering tension or uncertainty dissipated, replaced by a sense of accomplishment and unity. The bond between Venti, the Anemo Archon, and Dvalin, the guardian dragon, transcended the complexities of their respective roles. It was a silent understanding, a connection that surpassed the expectations and demands placed upon them.

The night embraced the dragon's flight, and Venti couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at witnessing Dvalin's freedom. The echoes of their shared journey resonated in the night air, a testament to the resilience of friendship and the enduring power of the wind that carried them both.

Aether couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment as he watched Dvalin soar freely into the sky. "That must feel incredible... To soar through the skies in harmony with yourself," he remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice.

"Hehe, mission accomplished!" Paimon chimed in with uncontainable joy, floating beside Aether.

"I had envisioned this mission unfolding in various ways, but certainly not like this," Jean admitted, her eyes reflecting a mix of surprise and gratitude. "As the Acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius, I speak on behalf of Mondstadt's people – we are forever indebted to you, Honorary Knights! Thank you for safeguarding our beloved country." With a solemn gesture, Jean placed her hand upon her chest and bowed her head respectfully.

Diluc, ever the reserved one, expressed his gratitude succinctly. "Your assistance has been invaluable. Thank you,"

Venti, the lively bard, couldn't contain his excitement. "Ohoho, I can't wait to compose ballads about your heroic exploits echoing through the city! The entire realm of Teyvat will resound with the tales of your mighty names!" His eyes sparkled with the anticipation of crafting a ballad that would echo through the realms, immortalizing the bravery of those who had saved Mondstadt.

A day had elapsed since the climactic battle with Stormterror. In the wake of the tumultuous events, Jean and Diluc took it upon themselves to enlighten the citizens of Mondstadt, divulging every detail from the loss of the Holy Lyre to the triumphant vanquishing of the dragon. The city resonated with admiration for the newfound heroes, and the streets echoed with praise.

The newfound fame translated into a flood of Mora cascading into Aether and Momon's pockets. The once-struggling travelers now found themselves enveloped in the wealth bestowed upon them by a grateful populace.

As the city settled back into its rhythm, citizens reveled in newfound freedom, freely strolling through the streets and delighting in the sight of Dvalin soaring above, dutifully fulfilling his role as a guardian.

Amidst the celebratory atmosphere, Aether and Paimon wandered from table to table, savoring delectable dishes and relishing in the joyous ambiance. However, amidst the laughter and chatter, Momon discreetly distanced himself. Being undead, he found solace in the shadows, avoiding the repetitive queries that he knew would come his way. The constant questions of "Why don't you eat?" or "Take off the mask" had grown wearisome, and Momon preferred the quiet contemplation of his solitary existence over the boisterous celebrations of the living.

Back at the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, Jean extended a personal invitation to Momon to join her in her office. Despite the formal setting, Jean's demeanor radiated happiness, putting Momon at ease as he stood before her.

"So, why did you call me, Jean?" Momon inquired, his masked expression unreadable.

"You and Aether have rendered invaluable service to this country, Momon. However, it's your strength that has truly caught my attention. I was there during the battle, and I couldn't help but marvel at your power. It was as if I was witnessing a god in action," Jean acknowledged, her admiration evident in her words.

"You're giving me too much credit, Jean, and it's feeling a bit strange," Momon responded modestly, his tone reflecting a mix of gratitude and discomfort.

"Ah, forgive me. It must be tiring to be constantly hailed as a hero. I just wanted to ask if there's anything you wish from us. Just name it, and I will make it happen," Jean offered, her sincerity evident in her voice.

Momon began to discern the undercurrents of the conversation. It wasn't just gratitude; it was a hint of fear. Jean had witnessed his unparalleled strength and feared the potential consequences if Mondstadt were to turn against him. Sensing the opportunity to leverage this fear, Momon decided to press further.

"Does anyone have ownership over the Old Mondstadt?" Momon inquired, his question cutting through the air.

Jean hesitated before responding, "Uh, well, no, not really. The last true owner of that realm was the God of Storm, and Dvalin is now free from that place. For the past 2600 years, no human has dared to set foot there due to the haunting memories. The Old Mondstadt and Dragonspine remain completely off-limits." Jean explained, her response revealing the historical weight and forbidden nature of the area.

"I would like you to grant me ownership of those lands," Momon straightforwardly requested, taking Jean up on her offer to grant him anything within her power.

Jean's concern etched across her face. "Are you sure? The Old Mondstadt is now infested with hilichurls and other monsters, and the Dragonspine is a desolate, frozen land," she cautioned. The prospect of someone willingly taking control of such untamed territories seemed unusual.

"Do you think I'm scared of a bunch of hilichurls?" Momon responded confidently, his tone dismissing any concern. Having defeated a dragon, facing hilichurls, was the least of his concerns.

"No, forgive me, I was just worried. So, this is truly your wish? To own the Old Mondstadt and the Dragonspine?" Jean clarified.

"Yeah. Mondstadt has grown on me. The weather is perfect, the nature is lovely, and the people are kind. I want to work to improve Mondstadt, ensuring that the Abyss Order and the Fatui won't trouble this country anymore," Momon explained, revealing a commitment to safeguarding Mondstadt.

Jean's expression shifted from concern to delight. "That's wonderful to hear, that you still want to help Mondstadt. Your dedication is truly appreciated."

While Jean busied herself preparing the necessary documents, Momon's eyes wandered toward the map hanging on the wall. The allure of these two realms lay in their strategic connections with the sea – Old Mondstadt to the north and Dragonspine to the south. Momon couldn't help but feel a sense of gratification at the prospect of claiming the lands he deemed rightfully his. There would undoubtedly be a myriad of tasks awaiting him, but the potential and possibilities stirred a newfound sense of purpose within him. The anticipation of what lay ahead filled Momon with a profound sense of satisfaction and eagerness to embark on the challenges that awaited him in his newly acquired domains.

Chapter Text

After leaving the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, Momon ventured to find Aether and Paimon. Familiar with their usual haunts, he made his way to the Good Hunter, and it didn't take long for him to locate them.

Upon entering the establishment, Momon spotted Aether and Paimon seated at a table, surrounded by an array of delicious dishes. Paimon, in particular, seemed to be relishing the culinary delights with enthusiasm. Standing beside them was Amber, the ever-cheerful outrider, wearing her signature expression of freedom.

Approaching the table, Momon greeted them, "Hey, Aether, Paimon. Looks like you've found a feast here."

Amber grinned, acknowledging his presence, "Hey there! The more, the merrier. Join us, Momon!" The atmosphere was lively, filled with the warmth of camaraderie and the simple joy of sharing a meal in the city of Mondstadt.

The aroma of freshly prepared dishes wafted through the air, tempting even the most stoic of appetites. Paimon, with a mouthful of food, turned to Momon with a mischievous grin.

“Momo, wanna join us for a feast?” she chirped between bites.

Aether shot Paimon a disapproving look. "Don't talk with your mouth full, Paimon," he scolded gently. Momon, however, took a seat at the table, his gaze fixed on the dishes before him, though he refrained from partaking in the meal.

Aether, curious about the meeting with Jean, leaned forward. "So, what did Jean have to say?"

Momon leaned back, producing a mysterious scroll and nonchalantly dropping it onto the table. Aether, Paimon, and Amber exchanged glances before Aether carefully unfurled the parchment, revealing its contents.

"You wished for lands?" Amber blurted out, her eyes widening in surprise.

The trio read through the scroll, absorbing the unexpected request. Paimon, ever the vocal companion, voiced her astonishment. "The Old Mondstadt and Dragonspine? Both of those places are pretty terrifying! One's crawling with monsters, and the other is an icy wasteland also filled with monsters."

Momon, unfazed by their reactions, explained, "As the new ruler, I can rid those lands of monsters. And as for the cold, I am immune to it."

Aether, intrigued, questioned Momon's motives. "That's impressive, but why wish for lands?"

Momon's gaze held a hint of foresight as he spoke, his eyes reflecting a wisdom beyond his apparent youth. "Having your own land is crucial, you know," he said, his voice carrying a weight of experience. "Throughout history, entire wars have been waged for control over territories. It might prove useful in the future."

Aether furrowed his brows, absorbing Momon's words with a thoughtful expression. "So, you're thinking strategically. Is there something you're anticipating?"

Momon leaned back, his expression cryptic. "The world of Teyvat is ever-changing. Having control over territories can shape the course of events, and with Mondstadt and Dragonspine under my rule, it provides a strategic advantage."

Paimon, always the curious companion, chimed in, "Momo, you've got plans beyond just monster-slaying, huh?"

Momon's enigmatic smile remained, leaving his companions intrigued and, perhaps, a tad uneasy about the uncertain future that lay ahead.

Amber nodded with genuine admiration. "That's a good point! Mondstadt will always respect you for saving us," she remarked, her tone filled with genuine respect. The idea of having a noble hero like Momon settling in Mondstadt seemed to resonate positively among the group, offering a sense of security and gratitude.

"So, what's your plan for today?" Momon interjected, subtly steering the conversation in a different direction.

Aether glanced at Momon, considering the question. "Oh yes, today we're returning the Holy Lyre to the church. Venti and Jean are probably waiting for us. Paimon, did you finish eating?" Aether inquired, diverting the attention to their tiny companion.

"Mhm!" Paimon nodded enthusiastically, though her mouth was still full of food.

"I see. Go ahead without me. I just departed from Jean, so..." Momon trailed off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air.

"No worries, I understand. Let’s move, Paimon," Aether said, paying for the meal and standing up. As he made his way towards the door, Paimon followed suit, her wings fluttering with excitement.

Amber, who had been listening to the exchange, also rose from her seat. "I've got to attend to my duties as well. Good luck with the Holy Lyre, Aether," she said, offering a friendly smile before heading off in a different direction.

As Momon watched Amber and Aether share a hug before parting ways, a playful thought crossed their mind. "Amber does seem quite attached to Aether, doesn't she? Perhaps they share some secret relationship," Momon reflected with a light-hearted chuckle. The idea of a clandestine connection between the two main characters added a touch of intrigue to their daily interactions.

"Must feel great to be the main character, while I'm here being a side character," Momon mused, their gaze lingering on the departing duo. "To everyone else, he's the classic hero of any fantasy story, and every female falls in love with him. Well, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit, but it sure feels like that," he thought, a wry smile forming on his nonexistent lips.

"Well, every story needs its hero. Maybe I should start practicing my heroic poses or crafting a tragic backstory. That's what main characters do, right?" he mused, finding humor in the situation. Momon couldn't help but chuckle at his own thoughts, realizing the absurdity of his fleeting idea. "I'm really exaggerating things. Heroic poses… that's actually cringy, haha," he admitted to himself with a self-aware grin. The image of himself striking exaggerated heroic poses flashed in his mind, and he couldn't help but find the idea ridiculous.

Caught in his musings, Momon was abruptly brought back to reality by the voices of two young ladies. "Hello there, hero of Mondstadt~" greeted one of them. Momon turned to find a girl with fair skin, pale sea-green eyes, and waist-length dark purple hair that shifted into a subtle red at the ends. His gaze lingered on her peculiar attire, and the striking purple hat immediately hinted at an air of mystique, prompting Momon to consider the possibility that she might be a witch or something equally enchanting.

Beside her stood another girl with fair skin and blonde hair, her overall appearance carrying a more gothic vibe. Adding to the enigmatic atmosphere was an eyepatch that covered one eye, giving her an air of mystery. Momon's eyes were drawn to the unusual companion perched on her shoulder – a mysterious raven, seemingly as much a part of her presence as her distinctive attire.

Momon, still slightly flustered by the unexpected encounter, considered the situation. The normal response, as you mentioned, would be "How may I help you, ladies?" However, thinking they wanted the table where he was standing, he decided to take a different approach.

"Oh, sorry for occupying the table, please help yourself," Momon apologized with a polite smile under his mask. He stood up and turned toward the gate of the city, gesturing for them to take the now vacant table. The two ladies, a bit confused by his actions, followed him to the bridge.

"Hey, we were looking for you!" the one with the big hat exclaimed, trying to catch up.

"Huh, you need something?" Momon inquired, uncertain as to why these mysterious ladies were seeking him out. The unexpected encounter had taken an intriguing turn, and Momon couldn't help but wonder what they wanted with him.

"Yes, ever since you vanquished Stormterror, I've been attempting to make contact with you," she said, her voice carrying an air of mystery.

Momon, still adjusting to the post-battle atmosphere, squinted inquisitively. "And who might you two be?" he inquired.

"I am Astrologist Mona Megistus. Please, call me Mona," she replied with a polite nod.

Before Momon could process Mona's introduction, Fischl stepped forward with an eccentric flourish. "Behold, masked dragonslayer! I am Fischl von Luftschloss Narfidort, the Prinzessin der Verurteilung," she declared dramatically.

Momon furrowed his brow. "Huh?" confusion etched across his face.

"Honorary Knight, we are deeply honored to make your acquaintance. We've heard tales of your valor. Please, refer to mein Fräulein as Fischl. I am her humble familiar, Oz the Raven," he added, and to Momon's surprise, the strange raven spoke.

This surreal encounter left Momon feeling as if he had stumbled back in YGGDRASIL, reminiscent of the NPC he once crafted in Nazarick and his former days immersed in role-playing as an evil Overlord. The juxtaposition of Mona's mystique, Fischl's theatrical introduction, and Oz's articulate communication were pushing the boundaries of what he considered normal.

"So, how may I be of assistance to you, Miss Mona?" Momon inquired with a polite smile.

Mona, the inquisitive astrologist, leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Yes, I've been hearing rumors all across Mondstadt about your extraordinary feats against Stormterror. Tales of your magical prowess have spread like wildfire. I even overheard a bard at the tavern recounting the moment Stormterror charged at you, mentioning something about poisonous blasts. And the way you effortlessly healed him with holy magic—it's simply fascinating. Oh, and let's not forget that enormous skeleton wall. It all sounds so unbelievably fantastical."

Momon felt a sense of relief at Mona's genuine curiosity, her hunger for knowledge apparent.

"Indeed, just as vision holders harness elemental powers, my abilities lie in the realm of magic and skill," Momon confirmed with a mysterious smile.

Mona, intrigued and eager, asked, "So it is true... can you show me a spell then?"

Momon gestured towards the sky. "Alright, see the clouds around us?"

Mona, with a quizzical expression, observed the clouds above. "Yes?" she replied, uncertain of what was about to happen.

With a snap of his fingers, Momon cast his spell, and in an instant, all the clouds vanished. The once-cloudy sky transformed into the purest blue, not a wisp in sight. Mona and Fischl stood there, jaws dropping in shock as they witnessed the sudden change, even in the usually cloud-shrouded Dragonspine.

"Woah, what did you do?!" Mona exclaimed in awe.

A triumphant smile played on Momon's lips as he explained, "The spell is called [Control Weather], allowing me to manipulate the weather at will."

Mona couldn't believe her eyes. "Unbelievable... and the range of that spell..." She trailed off, eager to unravel more about Momon's extraordinary capabilities.

"Well, I hope you are satisfied with this, now goodbye," Momon declared, turning to walk away from the curious astrologist. However, Mona, driven by an insatiable thirst for knowledge, quickly ran to block his path once again. Momon couldn't hide a hint of annoyance in his expression.

"What now?" he asked, crossing his arms in a display of impatience.

Mona, undeterred, looked up at Momon with determination in her eyes. "Is it possible for me to learn such magic?" she inquired, her curiosity shining through.

The Overlord, uninterested in entertaining the idea, replied bluntly, "No." His response held a finality that left little room for negotiation. Momon was accustomed to the secrecy of his powers and had no intention of sharing the intricacies of his magical abilities, especially with someone he had just met.

"You said no so fast! But why?" Mona's frustration bubbled to the surface, her curiosity overcoming any semblance of patience.

In response, Momon calmly reached into a dark void circle, a move that startled both Mona and her companion. From within the mysterious void, he produced a thick book, its pages filled with arcane knowledge. Mona couldn't help but imagine the wealth of magical arts contained within those pages.

"It is written here," Momon began, flipping through the ancient tome, "It is inscribed that Mana is the lifeblood of magic users. It's the ethereal force that weaves through the very fabric of our existence, intertwining with the threads of our magical prowess." He flipped a page with deliberate care, revealing intricate diagrams illustrating the symbiotic dance between Mana and the tiers of magic. The air seemed to hum with hidden energy as he continued. "Mana is not merely a reservoir; it is the essence that breathes life into our incantations. The higher the tier of the spell, the more Mana it demands. It is the currency we pay to the arcane forces for the privilege of wielding their might."

As he spoke, Mona's eyes widened with realization. Momon continued, "And then there is you, Miss Mona. You do not possess Mana at all, so you can’t use tier magic."

The revelation hung in the air, and Mona's initial frustration gave way to a deepening fascination with the intricacies of tier magic. Her mind raced with the possibilities, and a newfound determination sparked within her.

"Haah… for real?" Mona mused, a mix of awe and excitement in her voice. "That book must have some sort of art that teaches someone to form this 'Mana' in the body." Her obsession with the mysterious art of tier magic grew, and desperately sought to understand.

"Well, good luck then," Momon said, once again attempting to take his leave. However, Mona was not ready to let go of her newfound obsession.

"How much for that book?" she asked, determination etched on her face.

Momon sighed, growing slightly annoyed. "Now you're annoying. The book is not for sale," he stated firmly, hoping to put an end to the conversation.

But Mona was undeterred. "Come on, I’ll pay you as much as you want," she insisted, reaching out to grab his arm, pleading for him to sell her the coveted tome.

"Miss, please don’t touch me..." Momon began to express his discomfort, but before the situation could escalate further, a sudden sensation tingled in the air. Momon's instincts kicked in, sensing that something significant was happening at the cathedral.

His attention diverted, Momon gently pulled away from Mona's grasp. “I need to leave for now.” Momon declared, and with a swift motion, he disappeared from Mona’s sight.

Since he had not visited the cathedral, Momon teleported to the top of a building, and from there he flew in the direction of the cathedral.

With extreme speed, Momon landed right in front of the cathedral. The scene that awaited him was both unsettling and perplexing. Venti lay on the ground, resembling a lifeless body, and Aether was sprawled to the left, unconscious. Momon found himself surrounded by a group of mysterious individuals.

To the right, he observed a tall, strikingly beautiful woman with platinum-blonde hair and light gray eyes. Behind her right shoulder hovered an enigmatic object, adding an air of mystique to her presence. The situation seemed dire, and Momon's keen senses told him that these were no ordinary circumstances.

The tension in the air was palpable as Momon prepared himself for whatever might transpire next. Two Fatui Agents charged at Momon with the intent to take him down, but he swiftly drew his sword, moving with incredible speed to slice off their heads in the blink of an eye.

"How troublesome…" spoke the mysterious woman, her calm demeanor undisturbed by the swift dispatching of her agents. Without a second glance, she turned and walked away, leaving Momon to deal with the remaining threats.

Determined to pursue the woman, Momon found his path blocked by two formidable opponents—Fatui Cicin Mages. Without hesitation, the mages unleashed a swarm of bat-like creatures, creating a barrier of magical entities in an attempt to impede Momon's advance.

[Shockwave]! Momon activated his spell, unleashing a powerful shockwave that obliterated all of the Cicins in a destructive burst.

The remaining Cicin Mages had no idea who they were messing with and were prepared to unleash a last-ditch attack and retreat from the cathedral. However, Momon, with unparalleled speed, teleported right in front of one of the mages, sending a shiver down her spine.

"What the…" The Cicin Mage raised her hand to attack, but Momon's blade moved with lightning speed, cleanly severing her arm. A blood-curdling scream filled the air as the mage witnessed the blood gushing from her mutilated limb. Before she could comprehend the pain, Momon thrust his blade through her neck, ending her life abruptly. Her lifeless body crumpled to the ground, leaving a pool of blood in its wake.

The other Cicin Mage, terror-stricken by the gruesome scene, realized the futility of facing such a formidable opponent, especially now that her lady had left the city. Before she could react, a blade silently pierced through her heart, ending her life in an instant.

The cathedral, once filled with the tension of magical confrontation, fell into an eerie silence. Momon, the enigmatic figure, stood amidst the aftermath, his blade stained with the remnants of the battle.

Momon surveyed his surroundings, realizing that the blonde woman was nowhere to be seen. A twinge of regret crossed his mind as he considered the implications of swiftly eliminating all of the threats. Leaving a survivor could have provided valuable information about the mysterious woman and the events that had transpired within the cathedral.

In addition to that concern, Momon experienced a realization that unsettled him. He had just killed a human for the first time, and surprisingly, he felt nothing. His undead nature, a remnant from his Overlord persona, suppressed any emotions that might have arisen from the massacre he had just committed. The lack of remorse or empathy left Momon contemplating the extent to which his true nature had been altered by the magic and experiences of his past

As he stood amidst the aftermath, Momon couldn't help but reflect on the complexities of his own existence. The lack of emotional response, while advantageous in certain situations, also reminded him of the stark differences between his current state and the human experiences he once had.

Jean and the nun Barbara emerged from the cathedral, only to be met with a horrifying scene. The ground was stained with blood, and lifeless bodies lay scattered like macabre decorations within the holy site.

"Oh, Barbato!" Barbara gasped, losing consciousness and collapsing into the arms of her sister Jean.

Distressed by the sight, Jean's eyes widened with shock and concern. "What happened?!" she exclaimed, holding her sister close.

Momon, who had been observing the aftermath of the confrontation, stepped forward to provide some explanation. "I don’t know exactly, but as soon as I arrived here, I saw Venti and Aether on the ground. Then, these individuals attacked me. There was another one, I assume she was their leader, but she disappeared."

Jean's eyes narrowed with determination as she surveyed the chaotic aftermath. The once-peaceful cathedral had become a battleground, and the mysterious individuals who had attacked were nowhere to be found. The urgent need to uncover the truth and restore order to Mondstadt weighed heavily on Jean's shoulders.

In the midst of chaos, Paimon materialized with a worried expression, fluttering beside Aether as he lay unconscious. "Hey, wake up," she urged, her voice tinged with genuine concern.

Momon approached, his eyes narrowing as he took in the situation. "Paimon, don't worry. He'll be fine. What happened here?" he inquired, his tone steady despite the underlying tension.

Paimon recounted the ordeal with a sense of urgency, "As soon as we stepped out of the church, those villains ambushed us. And that blonde lady? She unleashed this fierce ice wind that sent Paimon flying."

Venti gracefully rose to his feet as if waking from a pleasant nap. Dusting off his clothes with a nonchalant air, he began to stride away from the chaotic scene.

His movements caught the attention of Jean, who couldn't help but express her concern. "Bar... I mean Venti, where are you going?" she asked, the worry evident in her voice, nearly slipping up and using his real name in her distress.

Venti grinned mischievously, a twinkle in his emerald eyes. "Y'all can find me at the Symbol of Mondstadt's Hero, ehe," he replied with an airy lilt, his carefree tone doing little to ease Jean's anxiety. With that, he left the cathedral, leaving his companions to wonder about the enigmatic bard's intentions

As Aether slowly regained consciousness, he opened his eyes to a grim scene — the lifeless bodies of their assailants sprawled across the floor. In the center of the macabre display stood Momon, a stoic figure amidst the chaos.

Paimon, ever protective, blocked Aether's view. "Hey, are you alright?" she inquired with genuine concern.

Aether, trying to shake off the lingering effects of his ordeal, replied, "Yeah, Paimon, it's just my head that hurts a bit."

"You need to rest for the moment," Paimon insisted, worry etched across her tiny face.

Aether, however, was quick to redirect his attention. "No, where is Venti?" he asked, realizing the absence of the mischievous bard.

"He said he's heading to the Symbol of Mondstadt’s Hero," Paimon relayed, her expression reflecting a mix of relief and uncertainty.

Aether, determined to find Venti, swiftly rose to his feet and unfurled his glider, soaring out of the city with Paimon closely in tow. Momon, left in bewilderment, rallied the city's defenders, instructing Jean to summon the knights for the grim task of removing the bodies strewn across the cathedral.

"Call the knights to remove the bodies!" he instructed, his tone firm. With a quick nod, Jean signaled to her fellow knights to handle the cleanup while Momon activated [Fly], launching himself into the air to follow Aether.

High above Mondstadt, Aether navigated the wind currents effortlessly, guided by the unseen forces that allowed him to glide toward the majestic tree at Windrise. As he descended, he spotted Venti beneath the ancient branches, bathed in a soft white aura. The sight left Aether intrigued and apprehensive, uncertain of the significance of the divine energy enveloping the carefree bard. Aether descended gracefully, landing beside the bard, his eyes reflecting a mix of concern and anticipation.

“Venti…”

Aether's attempt to question Venti was abruptly interrupted as Momon descended with the force of a celestial body, his frustration palpable.

"I saved both of your hides back there, and you just vanish without a word? What the hell went down at the cathedral?" Momon demanded, his voice carrying the weight of annoyance. The unexpected abandonment had clearly left him in a less-than-pleasant mood.

"I'm asking the same question, Momon," Aether replied, his concern echoing Momon's irritation. The enigmatic events at the cathedral lingered, demanding explanation. "Venti, what's a Gnosis, and why did that woman target you for it?" Aether's inquiry cut to the heart of the matter.

Venti, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, responded, "Ah, so you noticed. This isn't something I'm meant to discuss with ordinary folks. But I suppose I can let you in on the secret."

Momon, realizing the rarity of obtaining insights into the secrets of the world's gods, listened intently.

"As you know, Visions are external magical foci that only a small minority of people possess. They use these Visions to channel elemental powers. In truth, every wielder of a Vision is one who can attain godhood and ascend to Celestia. We call such people allogenes," Venti explained, unraveling the mystical threads that connected the mortal realm with the divine.

"Allogenes? Paimon's never heard of them before," chimed in Paimon, her curiosity evident.

"Hehe, that's because this is a secret that only archons are privy to. We don't need primitive tools like Visions. Instead, each archon has an internal magical focus that resonates directly with Celestia itself… known as a Gnosis," Venti explained with a sly grin, shedding light on the concealed knowledge that bound the archons to a different realm.

"What is Celestia?" inquired Momon, his curiosity piqued by the mention of this celestial realm.

Venti, maintaining a playful demeanor, responded, "Let’s just say… Celestia is the residence of the gods. Sorry, Momon, I don’t have the luxury to spread any more secrets about Celestia, hehe."

As Momon contemplated the revelation, a subtle thought crossed his mind, "Could it be… there is someone above these archons?" The notion of a higher echelon in the divine hierarchy intrigued him. Reflecting on Venti's powers, Momon couldn't help but acknowledge that, while formidable in the context of their world, he might be merely a speck compared to the might of a YGGDRASIL player. The vast unknowns of the celestial order left Momon in a contemplative

Momon pressed for more information, his curiosity evident. "I see… but what about that woman?"

Venti took a moment, his gaze distant as he began to reveal the mysterious figure's identity. "Her name is Signora. Number 8 of the Fatui Harbingers. She and the rest of the Harbingers have been granted god-like executive authority by the Tsaritsa of Snezhnaya, endowed with strength surpassing that of ordinary mortals."

"The Tsaritsa? Isn't she an archon too?" Aether sought clarification.

"Indeed. She is one of the Seven, reigning from the Winter Palace, and the singular authority to whom the Fatui Harbingers all answer. While the Seven don't always see eye to eye, I never anticipated that she would conspire to steal another archon’s Gnosis. Five hundred years ago, I knew her intimately, but a certain catastrophe occurred, and after that, she severed all ties with me. What is she even thinking?" Venti's expression reflected a mix of confusion, concern, and a trace of lingering emotional turmoil from the events of the past.

"Well, you were the perfect target, thanks to that carefree attitude of yours," Momon commented, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and a hint of reproach.

"Come on, Momon, you really need to learn the meaning of chill. And what was up with showing no mercy? Not even for the female Cicin Mages," Venti recalled, a shudder passing through him as he remembered the gruesome aftermath of Momon's decisive intervention. Even for a god, the brutality was exceptional.

"Seriously? Mercy for terrorists?" Momon shot back, his confusion palpable.

"Hey, Momon saved our lives there! Those Fatui would have turned us into popsicles!" Paimon interjected, coming to Momon's defense.

"I guess you're right, Paimon. Hehe. I might have chosen the wrong words back there. Thanks, Momon!" Venti admitted, a genuine sense of gratitude in his voice as he acknowledged Momon's crucial intervention.

"No problem," Momon replied, his response succinct but carrying an undertone of camaraderie.

Venti's laughter echoed through the air as he spoke, "Anyway… Aether, before entering the church, you said to me that you are on a journey to find your sister… Forgive me, but I was in a slumber for 500 years, and I have no knowledge of a female version of you, hehe."

Aether smiled, understanding evident in his eyes. "It's alright, Venti," he replied. "She's not exactly like me, but we share a connection. Her name is Lumine. We got separated, and now I'm searching for her."

Venti's carefree demeanor took on a more thoughtful tone. "Ah, the twists and turns of fate," he mused. There goes the god of the wind, and now remains six.

Venti leaned against a pillar, his expression serious as he shared crucial information, "If you want more answers, you should head for Mondstadt’s neighbor nation of Liyue. The Geo Archon, unlike me, administers his entire region personally. The big man descends from his celestial abode, shares divine wisdom, and sets the stage for Liyue's grand drama. Miss it, and you'll be twiddling your thumbs for a whole year."

Paimon, ever the expressive companion, gasped in shock. "Eeeeh?! We can't wait that long!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise.

Aether nodded, determination etched across his features. "Time is of the essence. Let's make our way to Liyue and catch this Rite of Descension before we miss the main event." he said, realizing the urgency of their quest and the importance of catching the Geo Archon's rare appearance.

Chapter Text

Momon and Aether decided to stay one more night in Mondstadt to get things ready for their journey to Liyue. While walking in the streets of the city, Momon noticed a sense of fear at the knights. They greeted him, yet, that joy they had days ago was not present anymore with some of them.

This was happening because Momon had become the harbinger of a brutal massacre at the cathedral, leaving the aftermath of his clash with Fatui agents etched into the memories of those who witnessed it. The grotesque brutality displayed by Momon surpassed anything Mondstadt had ever experienced. The very air bore witness to the aftermath of a monstrous act that sent shockwaves through the city.

Momon and Aether were in this era Mondsadt's heroes. Aether is the one who is very calm and friendly, even showing mercy to the enemies. Momon on the other hand… gods have mercy upon his enemies because Momon won't give that.

The dark warrior paid little heed to the whispers of fear that surrounded him in Mondstadt's streets. The opinions of the knights mattered little to him; their judgment was inconsequential in the face of the power he wielded. A silent confidence emanated from him, a conviction that if a situation akin to the Stormterror threat were to arise, the very ones who now viewed him with trepidation would come crawling back, seeking the protection only he could provide.

His status as an undead Overlord gave him an unyielding confidence, and the peace that enveloped Mondstadt did nothing to dull his instincts as a warrior. Despite being surrounded by the tranquility of the city, Momon found an unexpected solace in the region. The winding streets and towering spires seemed incongruent with his dark essence, yet Mondstadt held a unique charm that resonated with him.

"Hm, seems like the knights did not like the scene at the cathedral. It must have traumatized them," Aether observed, his empathetic nature reflecting in his words.

Momon maintained his stoic demeanor, dismissing the concerns with a pragmatic outlook. "They are the military, they are supposed to know that a battle might end in a terrible way," Momon stated matter-of-factly, his cold logic unyielding.

Aether, caught between Momon's unwavering realism and his own compassionate perspective, nodded in reluctant agreement. "I guess you're right, Momon," he conceded, understanding the harsh reality that warriors often faced.

Momon's inquiry about Paimon brought attention to the absence of the floating companion who was usually a constant presence by Aether's side.

"Anyway, where's Paimon? Isn't she always by your side?" Momon inquired, curiosity edging into his deep, monotone voice.

Aether shared a small smile, revealing the mundane yet extraordinary nature of their adventures. "Yeah, she went to sleep. She had a terrible time today by turning into an ice ball," he explained, a hint of concern underlying his words.

Their conversation shifted, and Momon, ever practical, asked about their next destination. "So where are we going now?" he inquired.

Aether's attention was momentarily diverted as he spotted Amber in the distance, waving enthusiastically. "Uhh, Amber is waiting for me. Do you mind if I go?" he asked, his gaze momentarily flickering towards the energetic Outrider.

"Oh please, go ahead, no problem," Momon replied, his demeanor unchanged.

With a nod of gratitude, Aether made his way towards Amber, leaving Momon to his solitude. "Alright, see you tomorrow, Momon,"

As Momon observed Aether's warm embrace with Amber, a moment of realization washed over him. The affectionate hug and tender kiss exchanged between the two hinted at a deeper connection, and Momon couldn't help but understand the unspoken reason behind Paimon's early departure to slumber.

"Man, I feel like I'm being a burden to him. He's just a young dude trying to explore... women too," Momon pondered with a touch of self-awareness. The contrast between Aether's youthful exuberance and Momon's seasoned, enigmatic demeanor became more apparent in that moment.

In the midst of Mondstadt's peaceful ambiance, Momon grappled with the recognition that his own imposing presence might inadvertently cast shadows on the lighthearted pursuits of his companion.

"Oh, so he left you again to go with Amber, haha," a familiar voice chimed in, teasingly.

Momon turned around to find the same girl who had displayed an insatiable appetite for magic standing before him.

"You? What was your name again? Ma... Magi... stus..." Momon struggled to recall her name.

"It's Mona Megistus! Astrologist Mona Megistus," she clarified with a touch of amusement in her voice.

"Oh right, good night then," Momon replied, attempting to gracefully excuse himself as he began to walk towards the Knights of Favonius Headquarters.

But Mona, seemingly undeterred, continued to follow him. "Hey, ughh," she exclaimed, determined to engage in conversation or perhaps to sate her curiosity about the enigmatic figure in front of her.

As Momon entered the Headquarters, a surprising wave of recognition and respect greeted him from some of the knights. Despite the unease caused by his recent actions, there were still those who acknowledged and praised him for his deeds, a small solace in the midst of lingering tension.

His steps led him to the library, a sanctuary of knowledge within the heart of the Knights of Favonius. The shelves adorned with numerous books and tomes held the promise of uncovering the history he sought. However, the challenge lay in navigating the unfamiliar language that adorned the pages.

"So what book are you looking for?" asked Mona, her persistent curiosity still shadowing Momon.

Choosing a random book from the shelf, Momon opened it, only to be met with unfamiliar characters sprawled across the pages. Mona, not relenting in her observation, watched his reaction closely.

With a subtle sigh, Momon closed the book and admitted, "Ah, it's sad that I can't read this language." The admission though uttered with a hint of disappointment, carried an air of vulnerability, a rare acknowledgment from the imposing dark warrior that some challenges transcended even his formidable abilities.

"Haha, want me to help you?" Mona asked with a tone of superiority, reveling in the opportunity to showcase her own expertise.

"No need," Momon replied, unfazed by the offer. From seemingly thin air, he produced a pair of glasses and placed them over his mask, concealing his skull face from Mona's view. "These glasses can translate any language, and this book is called 'The History of Kings and Clans.' Oh, this is about the aristocracy who ruled Mondstadt many centuries ago."

Mona's eyes widened in astonishment. "Haah, you have those types of items too?! How?!" she exclaimed, her surprise evident in her animated reaction. The mysterious artifacts and abilities possessed by Momon only fueled Mona's curiosity, leaving her eager to unravel the enigma that seemed to shroud the dark warrior.

The glasses, a mysterious artifact in Momon's possession, held the power to unravel the secrets of written languages. As Mona grappled with the revelation, Momon continued to peruse the historical tome, the translated words providing him with insights into the bygone rulers who once shaped the destiny of Mondstadt.

"You are so loud. This is the library you know, leave me alone now." said Momon.

"Ughh, but I want to learn about your magic!" Mona smacked the table Momon was reading out of anger.

Momon closed his book with a gentle thud, fixing Mona with a stern gaze. "Listen," he began, leaning in to emphasize his point. "You need to focus on your own skills or magic. There's no need to waste your time with something you do not possess. I am not a human, and most of the magic and skills I use are directly connected with my race. For example, one skill that I have is being able to see in pitch darkness clearly. That skill is called [Night Vision]. You know, each race has its unique set of abilities. What might seem ordinary to me could be extraordinary for someone else. Instead of focusing on what I can do, discover your own strengths and embrace your magic. You'll find it far more rewarding in the long run."

Mona's eyes shimmered with determination as she pleaded, "All I want is to learn how to use this Tier Magic so I can surpass my master." Her sad expression reflected her longing for growth and power.

Momon rolled his eyes, muttering to himself, "Oh man, she still isn't listening…"

Just as the tension between them escalated, the librarian, Lisa, intervened, her presence commanding attention in the quiet library. "Why are there loud voices in my library... Oh my," she exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise as she saw Momon for the first time in her domain.

Lisa, undeterred by Momon's stoic demeanor, couldn't hide her excitement. "Such a blessed night to see my hero in my domain, fufu~" she chimed, taking a seat beside Momon and peering over to see what he was reading.

"Ahem, can't you see that we are busy, Miss Lisa?" spoke Mona, asserting her need for privacy.

Lisa, seemingly undeterred, raised an eyebrow and replied, "Miss Mona, are you looking for a book? If not, then please leave the library."

Momon, with a hint of frustration, intervened, "Mona wishes to learn how to use my magic, but there is no way for her to learn Tier Magic unless..." He paused for a moment, creating suspense.

"Unless?" Mona asked eagerly, her eyes searching for answers.

"Unless you change your race..." Momon's words hung in the air, casting a shadow over the conversation.

Confusion painted Mona's face, and even Lisa, who had changed her seductive look to one of perplexity, was taken aback. "Change race?! But can that even happen?!" Mona exclaimed, her eyes widening in disbelief.

"Yes, I have the power to change someone's race," said Momon, his words hanging in the air, the weight of their implications sinking in.

This revelation was immensely important for someone like Mona and Lisa. The ability to change someone's race was an unknown feat, marking Momon as a figure of profound magical prowess, akin to a powerful god.

Eager to explore the possibilities, Mona asked, "And what race would you suggest?"

Momon, with a calm and measured demeanor, replied, "Well, since you are a beautiful woman and I guess you wouldn't want to lose your beauty, I would suggest between demon or vampire."

"What?!" both Mona and Lisa shouted at the same time, their surprise echoing through the library.

Demons were infamous for being extremely dangerous monsters, having brought destruction to Teyvat centuries ago. Their very name sent shivers down the spine of those who knew the history. Vampires, on the other hand, were an enigma. No one had ever seen a vampire, to the point where some people believed they were just a myth, creatures of the night hidden in the shadows. Mona's eyes widened as she grappled with the gravity of Momon's suggestion.

"Know that changing race might end up catastrophic for your friends and the other people around you," warned Momon, his voice carrying a note of caution.

Mona furrowed her brow, seeking clarification. "What do you mean by that?"

Momon sighed, choosing his words carefully. "Well, by becoming a demon, it might change your personality, leading you down a sinister path. As for the vampire, you might find yourself compelled to attack others for their blood. It could be a friend or a loved one."

The weight of the decision became more evident as Momon explained the potential consequences of each choice. Both demons and vampires were creatures of the night, often associated with darkness and malevolence. Mona, torn between the two options, was unsure which path to take and found herself nervously biting her fingernails.

"Also, all the power you have right now will disappear, and you will be my servant," Momon declared.

"S-Servant!?" Mona exclaimed, her eyes widening in shock and disbelief.

Momon, seemingly unperturbed, continued with an air of supreme authority. "Yeah, because I am the creator. It's like an eternal contract… The choice is yours, Mona." His words reverberated with an unsettling finality, painting him as a deity of fate, toying with mortal lives.

The weight of Momon's words sank in, and to Mona, the image of Momon transformed. He now seemed like a devil, offering to fulfill her wishes in exchange for her soul. The gravity of the decision overwhelmed her, as hundreds of thoughts raced through her mind, contemplating the consequences of such a transformation. The prospect of losing her current powers added another layer of sacrifice to the already daunting choice.

"This is just... too much. I'll think about it," Mona said, her voice tinged with uncertainty. There was no reason for her to stay and further annoy Momon, so she turned to leave, her mind swirling with conflicting emotions.

"Would you really turn someone into a demon?" asked Lisa, her curiosity lingering in the air a minute after Mona left.

"That was a lie," replied Momon, his tone steady.

Lisa's eyes widened, a mixture of relief and amusement dancing in their depths. "Oh, hahaha. I was actually scared for a moment. The power and strength you have shown to us is phenomenal. The idea of you possessing that race-changing magic would be terrifying." Her laughter echoed in the room, a nervous response to the fleeting fear that had gripped her.

Little did Lisa know, Momon's declaration was not a fabrication. The unsettling truth lay beneath the surface, concealed by the enigmatic facade he wore. His motives, shrouded in mystery, remained his own, and Lisa unwittingly became a pawn in the intricate game he played.

"That was not a lie at all," Momon thought to himself, a subtle smile playing on his lips. He had skillfully diverted Lisa's attention, creating a smokescreen of reassurance to cloak the ominous reality of his abilities. The prospect of Mona exposing the true extent of his magic loomed in the background, and Momon, ever the puppet master, reveled in the art of deception.

Lisa's curiosity sparked, and she couldn't help but probe into the mysterious facets of Momon's abilities. "It has also made me curious about the kind of power you, a visionless one, use, Momon," she inquired, her eyes gleaming with interest.

"It's called Tier Magic," Momon disclosed, his tone measured but revealing little.

"Tier Magic?" Lisa's curiosity mirrored that of Mona earlier. The concept seemed to be a revelation, opening a door to a realm she had yet to explore.

"Yes, I'm not a real warrior, but a magic caster," Momon continued, peeling back a layer of the enigma surrounding him. "There are different types of them like Divine Type Magic Caster, Spiritual Type Magic Caster, and Arcane Type Magic Caster. I am an arcane magic caster and that would be a Sorcerer."

The revelation unfolded before Lisa like a spell unraveling its secrets. The distinctions among magic casters painted a vivid picture of the diverse world of mystical arts. Lisa, absorbing the information, began to connect the dots in her mind.

"Oh, interesting. Since I am a witch, would that make me an arcane magic caster?" Lisa pondered, her curiosity turning inward as she sought to understand her own abilities in this newfound context.

Lisa's admission about being a witch lingered in the air as Momon, with a touch of amusement, responded, "Yeah, oh, so you are a witch, huh?"

Lisa's admission hung in the air, confirming her identity as a witch. "Yes, this vision gives me the power of electro… Momon," Lisa responded, her words trailing off as she sensed an unexpected shift in Momon's attention.

Despite Momon's concealed visage behind a mask, Lisa couldn't shake the feeling that his gaze was fixated on a rather specific area. The unspoken tension in the room manifested as a palpable energy, and Lisa's cheeks flushed with a sudden awareness.

Then, as if defying the expected norms of personal space, Momon's palm unexpectedly landed on Lisa's chest. Her eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and embarrassment washing over her face. Uncertain of Momon's intentions, Lisa found herself caught off guard by the unexpected touch.

"Um, Momon, isn't this too fast? We should go on a date if we..." she began, attempting to navigate the awkward situation.

But Momon's response veered into an entirely different realm. "Why is there a curse in your heart, Lisa?" His words cut through the awkward atmosphere, introducing an element of mystery that left Lisa momentarily bewildered.

As the weight of Momon's words settled in the room, an uneasy silence lingered, shrouding Lisa in a veil of astonishment. The revelation of the curse she harbored within her remained her closely guarded secret, known to none. Yet, Momon's ability to discern this hidden truth with apparent ease sent shivers down her spine.

Lisa's eyes widened, reflecting a mix of surprise and apprehension. The air crackled with an otherworldly tension as if the very fabric of secrecy had been unraveled by Momon's enigmatic insight. How could he have unveiled the curse concealed within her body, a secret she had never dared to share?

Lisa's inquiry, laced with fear, hung in the air like a delicate wisp of uncertainty. "Back when I was a young student, I opened a forbidden magic book. That's how I got the curse, but... how are you able to see this curse?" she asked, vulnerability etched across her features.

"This has to do with my race," Momon explained, revealing the source of his supernatural insight. "I can see any type of curse. The one you have is a curse that gives you some superior knowledge and power, but it has cut your life in half... no, you just have a few years to live," he delivered the sobering truth with a matter-of-fact demeanor.

Lisa's initial fear gave way to a moment of realization. The weight of Momon's words, while unsettling, resonated with the experiences she had lived through. As the truth settled in, a sense of acceptance and admiration replaced the fear in Lisa's eyes.

"That's amazing... to be able to see such a curse and find information about it in a second is admiring," Lisa remarked, a genuine appreciation for Momon's abilities shining through. Her confession unfolded, recounting the repercussions of the curse on her life. "Everything that you said is right. I had to leave the Sumeru Akademiya shortly after graduation and start a new quiet life in my homeland. That's why I am so sleepy and lazy, haha~" she added, attempting to infuse the moment with a light-hearted tone.

Despite the smile Lisa wore, Momon saw the traces of sadness lingering behind it. The quiet acknowledgment of her fate and the facade of cheerfulness painted a poignant picture, as Lisa navigated the complexities of her existence marked by both extraordinary knowledge and the imminent shadow of mortality.

The air crackled with arcane energy as a magical circle materialized before Momon's hand. An incantation whispered with authority, initiated a mystical process that sent tremors through the room. Lisa, the Librarian of Mondstadt, stood frozen, eyes widening as she beheld the unfolding magic.

"[Remove Curse]," Momon declared, the words resonating with the power to dispel the invisible shroud that had haunted Lisa. The magical circle glowed, its ethereal light casting a mesmerizing aura in the room. Something began to emerge from Lisa's chest, a manifestation of the curse that had silently tethered itself to her.

As the arcane energies coalesced, Momon's hand held a floating purple crystal, suspended in mid-air. Black chains, remnants of the curse that had tethered itself to Lisa's life force, encircled the crystal with an eerie presence. The chains, once an invisible shackle on her existence, now manifested in a tangible form, hovering ominously around the crystalline core.

Lisa, her hands instinctively covering her mouth in shock, observed the revelation with a mixture of awe and trepidation. The crystal, once embedded within her, now floated as a testament to the magic Momon wielded—the power to sever the insidious ties that had taken half of her life.

"HOW?!" Lisa's shocked exclamation reverberated through the room as she felt an unfamiliar surge, like a revitalizing life force, coursing through her body. The removal of the curse left her in awe, her disbelief palpable in the wide-eyed astonishment that gripped her.

"Well, wouldn't it be useless if I was able to see a curse but not be able to remove it?" Momon responded with a calm assurance, dispelling the purple crystal with a spell as though it were a mere trinket.

"You… you saved my life!" Lisa exclaimed, her voice quivering with gratitude and emotion. The weight of the curse lifted, replaced by a newfound sense of liberation, overwhelmed her senses.

"Calm now, I removed the curse because you are my comrade..." Momon attempted to explain, but Lisa was not ready to let rationality guide her emotions.

"Don't you understand what this means to me?!" Overcome with gratitude, Lisa impulsively lunged at Momon, enveloping him in a tight hug. The force of their embrace caused both of them to topple from the chair in a tangled heap.

Amidst the chaotic descent, something else fell — Momon's mask. The mysterious shroud that had concealed his identity slipped away, revealing features that had been hidden from everyone until now.

Chapter Text

"Huh?!"

Joy radiated from Lisa as the weight of the curse lifted, leaving her elated and grateful. The mysterious Momon, the hero of Mondstadt, had successfully eradicated the curse that had threatened her life, rendering it as inconsequential as a discarded toy.

However, in the midst of her jubilation, Lisa's eyes widened in astonishment. What lay beyond the mask of Momon, the enigmatic savior, unveiled his biggest secret, and the revelation was beyond belief. Lisa, momentarily frozen, beheld an image that defied her expectations.

She had anticipated seeing human features—skin, flesh, or blood. Yet, what greeted her gaze was far from the ordinary. Momon's head was not adorned with the expected human countenance; instead, it was a skull, a pure white testament to a skeletal form. Lisa, confronted with the surreal sight, could hardly fathom the revelation before her.

Momon, the hero she had trusted, wasn't a human at all. The realization struck her like a bolt of lightning. The mask concealed not a face but a skull, unraveling the mystery of Momon's true nature—a strange skeleton creature that defied the norms of Mondstadt's known inhabitants.

"Oh shit..." Momon's internal reaction echoed the gravity of the moment. The revelation of his skeletal form had the potential to turn into a catastrophic situation, one that might necessitate drastic measures to preserve the secrecy surrounding his true identity. If Lisa reacted with fear, Momon would be compelled to manipulate time and erase this unsettling incident from her memory.

“Momon…” Lisa's voice cut through the tension in the room. The expected scream or expression of terror was conspicuously absent. Instead, Lisa, in a surprising turn of events, regarded Momon with curiosity.

“What are you?” Lisa inquired, her gaze fixed on the crimson dots that served as Momon's eyes.

“I’m not a human… Don’t you remember that part?” Momon responded, attempting to guide Lisa's memory back to the acknowledgment of his non-human nature.

“I know, forgive me, but… are you actually a… skeleton?” Lisa pressed further, her curiosity overcoming any fear that might have lingered.

"Kinda, but I don't like being called a skeleton. I am an undead, and my species is called Overlord," he explained with a measured tone, laying bare the identity that he had concealed behind the mask.

“An Overlord?” Lisa repeated, mulling over the unfamiliar term. Her gaze lingered on Momon, the being before her now defined not by the macabre image of a skeleton but by the enigmatic title of Overlord.

“Yeah…” Momon lifted his upper body while Lisa was still standing on top of his lap.

Lisa's reaction defied the expected norms when faced with such an unusual and otherworldly appearance. Instead of recoiling in fear or shock, she exhibited an uncharacteristic curiosity. The Librarian of Mondstadt, driven by an intellectual inquisitiveness, reached out to touch Momon's skull, her fingers tracing the contours with a gentle and deliberate motion.

"I’m speechless, Momon. I never imagined encountering someone like you." Lisa's eyes widened with a mix of awe and disbelief.

"I'm glad it had an impact. But, Lisa, I need you to promise me something—keep this between us," Momon urged, swiftly pulling his mask back on, concealing his identity once more.

“That won't be a problem at all after what you've done for me.” Lisa prevented Momon from covering his face and kissed his non-existing lips (teeth). “I would have loved to go further…~”

Momon, caught off guard by Lisa's boldness and her suggestive expression, found himself in a moment of unexpected intimacy. The atmosphere in the room, once filled with curiosity and acceptance, now took a turn into uncharted territory.

As Lisa looked at Momon with a suggestive and aroused expression, his emotions stirred in response. The unexpected kiss seemed to have ignited something within him. Suddenly, Lisa felt something rising. “Oh, so you got the extra bone too, huh~” Lisa, with her provocative comment, acknowledged the shift in the atmosphere.

Momon was not supposed to have “that” but YGGDRASIL got a funny update two months before the shutdown, and that update was about 18+ stuff. The devs hoped that this update would bring the players back for the last time but that backfired and the devs got a lot of hate. Momon on the other hand gave his skeletal avatar a dick as a joke… But now that his avatar is real in a real fantasy world, he never thought that he would have that part too…

"Wait… Lisa, this is not what you think," Momon stammered, attempting to diffuse the tension that lingered in the air. However, Lisa seemed determined not to let this moment slip away without savoring its awkwardness.

With a sly smile, she leaned in closer, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Oh, I'm sure it's exactly what I think~" Lisa teased, relishing the discomfort in Momon's attempt to normalize the situation. “That’s too late darling~ We have a long night ahead of us…

And Momon’s wish was fulfilled, he got his first woman. Lisa didn’t even care if there were still knights outside the library who could hear her loud moans. They had sex for hours until Momon saw the sunlight from the windows.

Lisa rubbed her tired eyes as she woke up, having had only an hour of sleep. She watched in amazement as Momon effortlessly donned his clothes with a speed that seemed almost supernatural. Every detail about him fascinated her, from the mysterious aura that surrounded him to the swift efficiency in even the simplest actions.

As Momon finished dressing, Lisa couldn't help but feel a growing affection for him. The enigmatic nature of Momon had cast a spell on her, and she found herself falling in love with this intriguing character.

The morning sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow on the aftermath of the night's intimacy. Lisa, still in the afterglow of their shared moments, turned to Momon with a teasing smile.

"So you are leaving for Liyue, darling?" she inquired, the playful lilt in her voice hinting at the shared intimacy they had just experienced.

Momon, feeling a hint of concern about the events of the previous night, began, "Yes, uhhh about last night..."

Before he could express his thoughts, Lisa cut in with a mischievous grin, "You were amazing~," her words carrying a sense of satisfaction and lust.

"Oh... I see. Well, I’ll be back frequently in Mondstadt to do some work at my property. So I’ll head out now… put some clothes on," Momon said, his tone a mix of composure and lingering concern.

"Alright, fufu~" Lisa responded with a mischievous glint in her eyes, watching her darling exit with a sense of satisfaction. The playful exchange and the lingering affection in the air left the library filled with a sense of shared secrets and the promise of future encounters in Mondstadt.

Momon emerged from the library to find Aether and Paimon waiting for him in the soft morning light. Paimon, the floating companion, chimed in with her usual curiosity,

"Good morning, Momon! We've been searching all over for you. What kept you in the library for so long?" inquired Paimon, her tiny wings fluttering with curiosity.

Aether, the silent traveler, added, "What do you think a person does in a library, Paimon?"

Paimon's eyes widened as realization dawned, "Oh, right." She acknowledged her oversight, giving Momon a curious glance.

"Good morning, guys. I was just reading some history books about Teyvat. I was about to go and look for you two. What are you doing here?" Momon inquired as he encountered Aether and the others.

"We just wanted to see Jean before we travel to Liyue," Aether explained.

"Umu, sure good idea," Momon replied in agreement.

The trio proceeded into the office, finding Jean engrossed in her duties, as was customary. The burden of responsibility, especially in the absence of the Grand Master Varka and with the majority of the knights away, weighed heavily on her capable shoulders. Despite the challenges, Jean remained a diligent and hardworking leader, dedicating herself to managing and protecting the city with unwavering resolve.

“Oh, welcome and good morning!” greeted Jean with a warm smile.

“Good morning!” the trio greeted back.

"Jean, we are on our way to Liyue and just wanted to say goodbye for now," Aether conveyed with a sense of purpose.

"I see, finding your sister is your top priority. Mondstadt will always welcome you, Honorary Knights. If we ever encounter your sister first, we will inform you immediately. May the wind lead!" Jean assured them, her commitment to their cause evident in her words.

"Thank you very much, we are heading out now," Aether expressed as they prepared to depart for Liyue.

As they were about to leave, Jean stopped Momon. "Momon, wait for a moment." Her request held a hint of urgency or perhaps a matter that required a brief pause before their departure. Momon, curious, complied and waited for Jean to address him further.

"Is everything alright, Jean?" Momon inquired, his voice carrying a note of concern as he noticed the subtle shift in Jean's expression.

Jean waved off the concern with a reassuring smile. "No, no, everything is fine. I was just curious about something... What do you plan to do in Old Mondstadt?" she asked, her eyes glinting with genuine interest.

Momon's gaze shifted to a distant point as if peering into the future. "Well, I have this vision," he began, his words measured. "I want to rebuild Old Mondstadt, breathe life back into its ruins. My dream is to create a new settlement, a beacon of hope and resilience in this country."

Jean's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and admiration. "Rebuild Old Mondstadt?”

Jean's eyes widened in surprise, a hint of disbelief coloring her features. "Really? I don't believe anyone would want to go there and rebuild anything," she remarked, her voice carrying a mix of skepticism and genuine curiosity.

"You are right, but I believe this will work. Also... I might rebuild the city by using my magic, but I would love it if you kept this a secret between us, alright?" Momon stated with a serious tone, his gaze locking with Jean's.

A hush fell over the room as the weight of Momon's revelation hung in the air. Jean, after a moment of thoughtful consideration, nodded in agreement. "At this point, I'm not surprised that you can do that too. Do not worry, all your secrets will be safe in my heart," she assured, a proud and trustworthy gleam in her eyes as she placed her hand over her chest.

"Thank you…" Momon expressed his gratitude, ready to make his exit.

Momon, feeling the urgency to depart, attempted to make his exit, but Jean's words held him in place.

"Even the secret with Lisa…" she mentioned, her tone carrying a mix of intrigue and concern.

Momon felt like he had been caught red-handed. He also felt that there was another presence last night in the library but Lisa wouldn't let him free for hours.

"Jean… look, I know a library is a public place and all, but please… some privacy?" Momon implored, his tone revealing a genuine request for discretion.

In response, Jean's eyes widened, realizing the potential misinterpretation of her words. "Oh, no, no, no, forgive me. I didn't mean to blackmail you or anything," she hurriedly clarified, her voice tinged with panic. She thought there would be a different reaction from Momon but she embarrassed herself by being a peeping tom. Jean had unintentionally pushed the boundaries, forgetting the rule not to tread on Momon's bad side, a lesson learned the hard way in Mondstadt.

"It’s alright… listen, everything happened in the heat of the moment, so let’s just forget about this. Is there anything else you wanted to ask?" asked Momon, his tone gentle, offering Jean a chance to let go of the awkward exchange.

Jean nodded gratefully, a hint of relief in her eyes. "No, please have a safe trip and come visit us again," she said, her professionalism returning as she wished Momon well.

"I will… hold on…" Momon paused, a flicker of curiosity crossing his skeletal features. He turned back to face Jean, his gaze searching. "What did you see back at the library?"

Jean's reaction was immediate, her voice tinged with a hint of panic as she stuttered, "N-Nothing! Ju-Just Lisa!"

“Alright.” with a final nod of gratitude, he left the office.

As Aether, Momon, and Paimon left the bustling streets of Mondstadt behind, their journey toward the nation of Liyue stretched out before them. Liyue, nestled in the southwest of the continent, held a reputation as a thriving economic hub, pulsating with trade and commerce that flowed like the river that carved its landscape.

The God of this illustrious nation was none other than Rex Lapis, also known as Morax. Revered as the Archon of Geo, Morax held sway over the land, his influence extending far beyond mere governance. He bore many titles befitting his stature - the God of Contracts, the God of Commerce, the Warrior God, and even the Prime of Adepti. Among the Seven Archons, Morax stood as the oldest and perhaps the most formidable, his strength and wisdom legendary among mortals and divine alike.

As the trio journeyed towards Liyue, they were welcomed aboard a carriage by a jovial merchant hailing from the region. With barrels of wine stacked high in the carriage, the aroma of aged spirits filled the air, adding to the sense of adventure that lay ahead.

The merchant, a resident of Qingce Village near the border with Mondstadt, regaled them with tales of his travels and trade ventures at the Stone Gate. His stories painted a vivid picture of life in Liyue, its bustling markets, and ancient traditions.

As they traversed the winding roads, Momon couldn't help but marvel at the dramatic shift in landscape from Mondstadt to Liyue. Where Mondstadt boasted lush plains and verdant forests, Liyue revealed a rugged and mountainous terrain. Towering peaks rose majestically against the horizon, their rocky slopes a testament to the enduring beauty of the land.

The trio reached the Stone Gate and left the merchant feeding his horse. Momon tried to give him some Mora for the ride but did not accept them. He was a good man who wanted some company for the long road.

As the trio approached the passage leading into Liyue, they encountered watch towers and soldiers patrolling the border. Among them, one of the Millelith soldiers spotted the three strangers making their way into Liyue lands.

"Stop right there!" the Millelith soldier shouted, his voice echoing through the air.

Clad in armor and wielding a polearm, the soldier marched towards the strangers, his gaze fixed primarily on the tall figure wearing a mask. The presence of unfamiliar travelers sparked a sense of vigilance and caution among the Millelith soldiers, tasked with safeguarding the borders of Liyue from potential threats.

Aether, Momon, and Paimon exchanged wary glances, recognizing the need to handle the situation with care as they awaited the soldier's approach, prepared to explain their presence and intentions in the land of Liyue.

"Greetings, sir!" Paimon greeted cheerfully, attempting to defuse the tension.

The Millelith guard regarded them with suspicion, his gaze lingering on Momon's masked visage. "Greetings... what business brings you into the lands of Rex Lapis?" he inquired, his tone cautious.

"We are from the Adventurers' Guild, sir," Aether explained, hoping to allay the guard's suspicions.

"The Adventurers' Guild, huh... which branch?" the guard pressed further, his scrutiny unwavering.

"The Mondstadt's one," Aether replied, providing the necessary information in hopes of gaining the guard's trust and permission to proceed. The mention of their affiliation with the Adventurers' Guild aimed to convey their peaceful intentions and legitimate reasons for entering Liyue's borders.

"What about him?" the guard questioned, turning his attention to Momon. "This guy doesn't look like the average adventurer," he remarked, his suspicion deepening as he regarded Momon with scrutiny, his thoughts drifting towards the possibility of Momon being a Fatui agent.

"S-sir, we are adventurers and Honorary Knights," Paimon interjected quickly, her voice carrying a note of urgency as she sought to defuse the guard's suspicions. The mention of their status as Honorary Knights, bestowed upon them by the Knights of Favonius in Mondstadt, was intended to lend credibility to their claims and reassure the guard of their peaceful intentions.

"Honorary Knights?!" The Millelith guard's confusion was evident, his expression momentarily perplexed. However, as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, recognition dawned on him.

"Wait... Little flying companion, blonde hero, and the mysterious masked hero..." The guard's eyes widened in realization. "Ooohh, the heroes of Mondstadt!"

The trio's deeds had spread far and wide, their names and accomplishments echoing across the lands like the wind. The guard, now understanding the significance of their presence, recalled hearing tales of their bravery and heroism. In a land plagued by turmoil and uncertainty, the arrival of these renowned adventurers brought a glimmer of hope and reassurance.

The situation in Mondstadt, once dire and chaotic, had been brought under control thanks to the efforts of these three heroes. Their reputation preceded them, even reaching the distant lands of Liyue, where the guard stood in awe of the trio before him.

"It is a great honor to meet you, Honorary Knights! Forgive me for my lack of manners!" the guard expressed sincerely, his previous suspicions giving way to genuine respect and admiration.

"No offense taken, you were just doing your job interrogating newcomers," Momon replied graciously, acknowledging the guard's diligence in maintaining security at the border. Despite the initial tension, a sense of mutual understanding and respect now prevailed between the guard and the trio.

With the tension diffused and mutual respect established, the encounter ended on a positive note. The guard, now recognizing the trio as the esteemed heroes of Mondstadt, bid them farewell and wished them well on their journey into Liyue's lands.

The trio passed through the Stone Gate peacefully, relieved to have encountered no further troubles after their initial encounter with the Millelith guard.

"Being famous has some benefits, huh," Momon remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice at the unexpected perks of their newfound renown.

"True, the news really spread fast in Teyvat," Aether agreed, reflecting on the speed with which their deeds had traveled across the land.

"Aha, the people are very eager to hear some intense news even if they are terrible news," Paimon chimed in, her voice tinged with a mix of humor and insight into the nature of gossip and rumor in Teyvat.

As the trio ventured further into Dihua Marsh, they found themselves crossing bridges that connected three small islands, each shrouded in the tranquil mist of the marsh. Upon reaching the first island, their eyes fell upon a towering figure bathed in the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the mist.

"Hey, it's a Statue of the Seven!" exclaimed Paimon with unbridled excitement, her tiny form buzzing with energy.

Momon's gaze followed Paimon's gesture, and he beheld the sight of a massive statue, reminiscent of the Anemo Archon's likeness they had encountered in Mondstadt. This statue, however, depicted a different figure - that of a hooded, tall man seated atop a majestic throne, his presence exuding an aura of power and authority.

"I guess, this is the guy who rules this nation," Momon remarked, his voice tinged with awe as he observed the imposing figure before them.

Aether nodded in agreement, his eyes tracing the intricate details of the statue. "Indeed, this must be the symbol of the Geo Archon, Rex Lapis," he surmised, his tone filled with reverence for the deity who held sway over Liyue.

The trio approached the statue, taking in its imposing presence against the backdrop of the marsh. Around them, the tranquil surroundings seemed to echo with the whispers of ancient secrets, as if the land itself held untold stories waiting to be uncovered.

"Quick, Aether, touch the statue. Who knows, it might give you the power of Geo just like the Anemo one!" Paimon urged excitedly, her voice carrying a hint of mischief.

"Huh?!" Momon's confusion was evident as he processed Paimon's suggestion, unsure if he had heard her correctly.

"Paimon... do not say that out loud!" Aether interjected hastily, his tone tinged with concern.

Realizing her mistake, Paimon's expression shifted as she remembered that Momon was unaware of Aether's unique talent. Her eyes widened in realization, acknowledging the need for discretion in discussing such matters openly.

"Oh..." Paimon murmured softly, understanding the importance of keeping certain secrets safe from prying ears, especially in unfamiliar territories like Liyue.

"The Anemo Statue gave you power?" Momon questioned, his confusion evident as he tried to make sense of Paimon's revelation.

"Ehehe, yeah, impressive isn't it, Momon!" Paimon replied, attempting to laugh off the situation, though a hint of unease lingered beneath her cheerful demeanor.

This discovery was indeed shocking, as Momon realized the implications of what Paimon had just revealed. In the world of Teyvat, the ability to wield elemental power was typically granted through the bestowal of a vision by the divine. However, neither Momon nor Aether possessed a vision, making their newfound abilities all the more perplexing.

"Is this guy from... no, he's definitely not from YGGDRASIL!" Momon's thoughts raced as he observed the mysterious individual before him, analyzing their appearance and demeanor with a discerning eye. Memories of his experiences in YGGDRASIL, the virtual reality game from which he hailed, flickered in his mind, but the person before him seemed to defy easy categorization.

"I've never seen a human with such gear back then," Momon mused, noting the unfamiliarity of the individual's attire compared to what he had encountered in the game. Despite his extensive knowledge of YGGDRASIL, this stranger remained an enigma, their origins shrouded in mystery.

"Also, he's extremely weak compared to a level 100 player," Momon observed, assessing the stranger's apparent lack of strength and prowess in combat. The disparity between the stranger's abilities and those of a seasoned player further fueled Momon's suspicions.

"Even if he possessed an item that could hide his true nature, I would've still found out that he was a player," Momon concluded, his confidence in his ability to discern the truth unwavering.

"Sorry, Momon! Paimon is just… Paimon," Aether apologized, recognizing the need to address Momon's confusion.

"That's interesting, can you show me, Aether?" Momon inquired, his curiosity piqued by the prospect of witnessing Aether's newfound abilities.

"Sure, I was going to tell you anyway, no need to keep this hidden from a friend and teammate," Aether replied with a nod, acknowledging Momon's role in their shared journey.

Aether approached the statue of the Geo Archon, his movements deliberate as he reached out to touch it. As his hand made contact with the stone surface, a radiant golden glow emanated from the cube held by the statue's hand, illuminating the surrounding area with its brilliance.

Moments later, golden light transmitted into Aether's body, infusing him with the power of Geo. The transformation was subtle but unmistakable, as Aether now possessed the ability to wield the element of Geo, granted to him by the divine energy of the Statue of the Seven.

"I wonder what can this element do…" Momon pondered, his thoughts drifting towards the possibilities offered by Aether's newly acquired Geo abilities.

"How about I give it a shot!" Aether exclaimed eagerly, his enthusiasm palpable as he prepared to test out his newfound powers.

"Good evening there, folks!" A voice suddenly interrupted their conversation, prompting the trio to turn and assess the source of the greeting. However, instead of a single individual, they were confronted by a group of ten men, their faces partially obscured by masks.

The sudden appearance of these masked individuals sparked a sense of unease in the trio, their instincts alerting them to the potential danger posed by the strangers.

"T-Treasure Hoarders?!" Paimon exclaimed in fear, her voice trembling with apprehension at the sight of the menacing group before them.

"Damn right you are, flying midget, hehehe!" the leader of the bandits retorted with a sinister grin, his tone dripping with malice as he reveled in the fear he instilled in Paimon and the others.

The leader, a muscular figure wielding a hammer, exuded an aura of intimidation as he loomed over the trio with a menacing presence. Behind him, his cohorts stood ready, their faces obscured by masks as they awaited their leader's command.

"What do you want?" Momon inquired, his voice steady despite the tension in the air.

"Hand over your belongings if you want to live, punk!" the leader of the Treasure Hoarders barked, his tone filled with aggression and menace as he made his demand.

"That is not going to happen," Momon responded firmly, his resolve unwavering as he prepared to confront the bandits head-on. However, before he could make a move, Aether intervened, stepping forward with determination.

"Hey wait, leave them to me. I want to test the new power I just got," Aether declared, his voice filled with determination as he expressed his desire to put his newfound abilities to the test.

"Oh, sure, that would be great," Momon agreed, recognizing the opportunity for Aether to showcase his skills and prove the strength of his Geo powers. With a nod of approval, he stepped back, allowing Aether to take the lead in facing off against the Treasure Hoarders.

"Bahaha! You're a real piece of work, aren't ya?" one of them jeered, his laughter laced with a cruel edge as he gestured mockingly at their leader. "Trying to play the tough guy when you can barely stand!"

Aether pressed forward with unwavering resolve, his demeanor radiating an aura of unshakeable confidence that seemed to unnerve the Treasure Hoarders. As he advanced, his gaze swept over the bandits, unperturbed by their malicious intent.

Unbeknownst to him, one of the Treasure Hoarders skulked in the shadows, clutching a crossbow with malicious intent. With a cowardly resolve, he prepared to unleash a bolt aimed squarely at Aether's unsuspecting back.

The Treasure Hoarders, devoid of any semblance of honor or fairness, were renowned for their underhanded tactics, their thirst for success surpassing any notion of fair play. In their world, victory was achieved through deceit and treachery, leaving a trail of betrayal in their wake.

Aether's reaction was swift and decisive as he sensed the imminent threat from the hidden bowman. With a command that resonated through the air, he called upon the very earth itself to heed his will.

"Terra-Smash!"

From the depths below, a sudden upheaval erupted, unleashing a powerful force that surged towards the bowman with unstoppable momentum. The impact sent the assailant hurtling through the air, his body tossed like a ragdoll by the sheer force of the Geo-powered assault.

“What the…” The leader of the Treasure Hoarders could only stare in shock and disbelief at the unexpected turn of events. His expression twisted with a mixture of astonishment and rage, his mind struggling to comprehend the sudden intervention that had disrupted their carefully laid plans.

Meanwhile, Momon watched with a keen eye as the Geo Construct emerged from the ground, a formidable meteorite imbued with elemental power. Its presence was unmistakable, radiating an aura of danger as it hovered ominously, ready to unleash its devastating AoE Geo damage upon any who dared to oppose its wielder.

"Boss, he might be a vision bearer!" One of the henchmen's words pierced through the chaos, a whisper of concern amidst the turmoil of battle.

"I'll crush his head!"

As the leader of the Treasure Hoarders disregarded his henchmen's warnings, his determination to crush Aether intensified. With a menacing glare, he raised his hammer high, intent on delivering a fatal blow to the perceived threat before him.

But Aether was not one to succumb easily. With agility borne of instinct and training, he dodged the incoming strike with a fluid grace, narrowly avoiding the deadly descent of the hammer. In one seamless motion, he retaliated with another elemental skill, channeling the power of the wind into a lethal attack.

"Wind-Blade!"

Aether's palm crackled with energy as a vortex of vacuum formed, swirling with potent force before erupting with explosive power. The blast struck true, impacting the leader of the Treasure Hoarders squarely in the stomach and sending him reeling backward with a cry of pain and surprise.

"BOSS!"

The Treasure Hoarders, witnessing their leader's plight, found themselves gripped by panic and uncertainty. They had underestimated their opponents, and now they faced the consequences of their folly. In their moment of realization, they knew they had indeed picked a fight with individuals far more formidable than they had ever anticipated.

Momon silently parted ways with Aether, leaving him to handle the remaining Treasure Hoarders. With careful steps, he approached the towering statue, shrouded from the sight of Paimon and the others. His hand reached out tentatively, fingers grazing the weathered stone.

A surge of energy coursed through Momon as a mysterious force enveloped him, mirroring the same peculiar experience Aether had undergone.

"This is... peculiar," Momon muttered to himself, his thoughts swirling with questions. "Are you, like me, a traveler from another world? Or perhaps you're just an extraordinary individual, Aether?"

As Momo reappeared on the scene, his eyes scanned the scene before him—a tableau of chaos and defeat. The once boisterous band of Treasure Hoarders now lay scattered across the ground, their bodies battered and bruised, exhaustion evident in every labored breath.

In the center of it all stood the leader, a defiant glint in his eye despite his evident weariness. He struggled to rise, determination burning in his veins despite the odds stacked against him.

"You think you've won, you little brat?" His voice cracked with effort, yet his resolve remained unyielding. "I'm not backing down until I've wiped that smug grin off your face!"

"Well, I'm up for another round," Aether declared, determination flashing in his eyes as he surveyed the battlefield.

As he spoke, his two remaining meteorites began to defy gravity, hovering mysteriously above the ground. Aether furrowed his brow in confusion, uncertain of what was causing this unexpected phenomenon.

To his surprise, the Treasure Hoarder's leader also seemed bewildered by the floating meteorites, mistakenly attributing the spectacle to another one of Aether's formidable abilities.

With a sense of bewilderment, Aether watched as one of the meteorites drifted to the left of the Treasure Hoarder's leader, while the other settled on the opposite side.

"What are you trying to do, you bastard?!" the Treasure Hoarder's leader shouted in panic, his voice trembling with fear as he faced the impending collision of the two meteorites closing in on him from both sides.

"No... no! Stop it!" he cried out, his desperation palpable as he braced for the inevitable impact that threatened to crush him beneath their immense weight.

"Aether, aren't you going a bit too far with this..." Paimon's voice carried a note of concern, her worry evident as she glanced between Aether and the chaotic scene unfolding before them.

"I'm not doing anything, Paimon. I have no idea what's going on," Aether responded, his own confusion mirroring Paimon's as they both searched for an explanation to the sudden and dangerous turn of events.

"But who..." Paimon trailed off, her voice trailing into uncertainty as they grappled with the mystery of the unseen force manipulating the meteorites, threatening to crush their unsuspecting foe.

Momon emerged from the shadows, his figure cloaked in mystery and his eyes gleaming with an eerie intensity as he revealed his control over the two menacing meteorites, manipulating them with an unseen force.

"I wonder," Momon's voice was cold and calculating, sending a chill down the Treasure Hoarder's leader's spine, "what should I take from you, hmm... Your leg, your arm, or perhaps your skull?"

The Treasure Hoarder's leader recoiled in horror, his bravado crumbling in the face of Momon's sinister display of power. "What are you talking about?! I want to live!" he pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation.

Momon's expression remained impassive, a mask of indifference as he delivered his chilling response. "I didn't give that option much thought... I mean, what's the point of leaving you alive?" His words dripped with disdain as he condemned the Treasure Hoarder for his wicked deeds. "You beat and rob people for a living. No one would ever shed a tear if you met your end right here and now."

The Treasure Hoarder's leader trembled, realizing too late the gravity of his actions as he faced the merciless judgment of Momon, a figure more formidable and unforgiving than he could have ever imagined.

The tension hung thick in the air as the two meteorites hovered perilously close to the bandit's skull, poised to strike a deadly blow. But before tragedy could unfold, Aether's urgent cry pierced through the chaos.

"Momon!"

At the sound of his name, Momon paused, turning to meet Aether's gaze, his expression stoic yet tinged with frustration at the interruption.

"Momon, the Millelith might come after us for this. We'd better let this slide," Aether reasoned, his voice laced with concern for the consequences of their actions.

After a moment's consideration, Momon nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that's reasonable," he conceded, his attention returning to the bandit who stood frozen in shock before them.

"As for you..." Momon's voice was low and menacing, his words carrying a weight of unspoken threat. "You'd do well to pray to your god never to cross paths with me again, or else..."

The tension reached its peak as the two meteorites, controlled by Momon's telekinetic power, soared higher into the sky before colliding with a deafening crash. The impact was brutal, sending shockwaves rippling through the air, and the Treasure Hoarder's leader could only watch in horror as the meteorites clashed with devastating force.

With a sickening realization of what could have been, the Treasure Hoarder's leader felt a surge of gratitude for his narrow escape, his mind reeling at the sheer brutality of the clash. As the dust settled and the echoes of the collision faded, he and his fellow bandits staggered to their feet, their bodies battered and bruised from the ordeal.

With no time to spare, the Treasure Hoarders fled like frightened rabbits, their wounds serving as painful reminders of the danger they had narrowly evaded.

"Never mess with us again!" Paimon's voice rang out, a mixture of triumph and warning echoing through the aftermath of the confrontation.

Momon approached Aether, a nod of acknowledgment in his masked visage. "I saw the geo element in that fight, Aether. Very impressive, being able to harness power like that."

Aether chuckled modestly, scratching the back of his head, the adrenaline of the battle still coursing through his veins. "Haha, yeah, I have no idea how it happened first with the Anemo statue, but I'm not complaining."

Paimon chimed in with infectious enthusiasm, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Hehe, he's very special! When he masters all the elements, he'll be unstoppable!"

Aether chuckled, shaking his head at Paimon's excitement. "You're getting a bit ahead of yourself, Paimon," he teased, though the hint of pride in his voice was unmistakable.

Momon watched the interaction between Aether and Paimon with a hint of fondness in his eyes. "What a delightful pair," he thought to himself, a fleeting smile touching his non-existent lips. "They remind me of the days when my friends and I would be overjoyed, leveling up our avatars to the highest ranks."

As the pleasant exchange drew to a close, Momon's senses abruptly tingled with alarm, snapping him out of the moment of tranquility. With swift reflexes, he grasped both Aether and Paimon tightly, urgency etched into his movements as he propelled them away from the impending threat.

"Hold on tight!" Momon shouted over the rushing wind, his voice commanding as he leaped with a burst of agility, narrowly evading the catastrophe hurtling towards them.

The sky darkened ominously as a blazing object streaked towards the island, hurtling with terrifying speed. With a deafening crash, it collided with the earth, sending shockwaves rippling across the landscape and carving a massive crater in its wake.

Clinging to Momon, Aether, and Paimon watched in stunned silence as the dust settled, the once serene surroundings now marred by destruction. Caught off guard by the sudden turn of events, they braced themselves for whatever new danger might emerge from the chaos.

"What... what just happened?!" Paimon's panicked cry pierced the air, her voice trembling with fear and confusion as she struggled to comprehend the sudden upheaval.

From the depths of the crater emerged a figure cloaked in mystery, his presence imposing and foreboding. Like Momon, he concealed his face behind a devilish mask adorned with horns and sharp teeth, adding to his intimidating aura. His stature matched Aether's, and his right arm bore intricate tattoos, hinting at a past shrouded in darkness. Yet, it was the gleaming long spear he wielded that truly set him apart, its very presence radiating an aura of divine power.

"Great... First the Treasure Hoarders, and now this one," Momon muttered, his voice laced with frustration as he braced himself for yet another confrontation with an unknown adversary.

"Hey there," Aether began, addressing the mysterious figure before him.

The individual turned, their gaze piercing as they regarded Aether with a mixture of suspicion and authority.

"We're not here to stir up trouble," Aether continued, attempting to diffuse the tension with a reasoned approach. "We're members of the Adventurers Guild, just passing through."

But the response he received was not one of understanding or cooperation. Instead, the figure's voice carried a tone of disdain, dismissing Aether's words with a wave of their hand.

"These are matters concerning the Adepti," he declared firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "Mortals like you have no place meddling in my affairs."

Aether's confusion deepened at the rebuff. If he wasn't the one he was seeking, then who exactly was this enigmatic individual searching for?

"The legendary Adepti who protects Liyue?" Paimon's voice quivered with panic as she attempted to grasp the gravity of the situation. "Was he hunting those Treasure Hoarders? Somebody needs to tell him the Treasure Hoarders are gone and have no business with them!"

Aether's brow furrowed in confusion at the mention of the Adepti. "Adepti?" he echoed, the term foreign to his ears.

Meanwhile, the stranger's attention shifted to Momon, his gaze ablaze with accusation and hostility. "I sense great evil emanating from you!" he accused, his words laced with a venomous threat. "You shall perish!"

But Momon remained unfazed, his composure unwavering in the face of the stranger's aggression.

"Are you serious right now? You're literally a demon! What the hell do you think you're doing?" he retorted, his voice tinged with incredulity and defiance.

"I am Adeptus Xiao! I am the one who cleanses these lands from evil!" Xiao's proclamation reverberated through the air, his voice resolute as he propelled himself towards Momon with lightning speed, his intent clear and his determination unwavering.

Aether's heart pounded with concern as he witnessed the ferocity of Xiao's attack. He knew that their new adversary posed a formidable threat, and his worry for Momon only intensified as he realized the magnitude of the challenge they faced.

A deafening metallic clash echoed across the battlefield as Xiao's mighty spear met Momon's dark sword in a collision of titans. The force of their impact sent shockwaves rippling outward, driving Aether and Paimon stumbling back into the cover of the nearby bushes.

Emerging from the undergrowth, Aether and Paimon's eyes widened in disbelief at the scene before them. Momon, their steadfast companion, stood firm against the relentless assault of Xiao, his determination evident in the fierce grip of his sword and the unwavering resolve etched upon his features.

Despite Xiao's best efforts, Momon remained unmoved, his dark aura radiating with an otherworldly strength as he held his ground against the Adeptus's onslaught.

Xiao staggered back, stunned by the sheer force of Momon's block. It was as if an ominous deity stood before him, wielding power beyond mortal comprehension.

"What... impossible..." Xiao's voice quivered with disbelief, his eyes wide with shock.

Momon's gaze bore into Xiao, unwavering. "So, demon, where are those boasts now?" His tone dripped with a mixture of disdain and confidence.

"Prepare to meet your end, fool!" Xiao's voice rose, a mixture of fury and desperation echoing through the air.

With a ferocious swing, the yaksha aimed to cleave his opponent in two, yet the outcome was beyond comprehension. Aether and Paimon watched in astonishment as Momon effortlessly seized the spear with his bare hand, halting the lethal strike with an otherworldly grip.

"No... this can't be..." Xiao's words faltered as fear gripped his heart, realizing the dire situation he was in.

Before he could react further, Momon's left hand lashed out with incredible force, striking Xiao squarely in the chest. Agony surged through the yaksha as bones cracked and organs screamed in protest. Though Xiao's face remained concealed behind his mask, the telltale signs of blood staining his lips confirmed the devastating impact of the blow.

Xiao was sent hurtling through the air like a rag doll, his body colliding with the statue of the Geo Archon with bone-shuddering force, threatening to bring the monumental structure crashing down upon them all.

Momon materialized like an avenging angel, his presence casting a shadow over Xiao's feeble attempt to rise.

"I... I will not back down!" Xiao's voice wavered, his body wracked with agony, struggling to maintain even a semblance of strength.

With merciless precision, Momon's fist shattered Xiao's mask into a shower of fractured remnants. Before Xiao could collapse again, Momon seized him by the throat, his grip firm and unyielding. Towering over the yaksha, Momon exuded an aura of overwhelming power, his hand capable of snapping Xiao's neck as easily as a twig.

"What now, demon?" Momon's voice rumbled like thunder, his gaze piercing through Xiao's defiant facade. With a menacing glint in his eyes, Momon raised his sword, poised to deliver the final, lethal blow.

But just as the blade began its descent, Paimon and Aether intervened, darting forward with urgent pleas.

"Wait, Momon!" Paimon's voice rang out, filled with desperation.

Momon's brow furrowed in annoyance as he turned his attention to the diminutive duo, still holding Xiao firmly by the neck.

"What is it now?" Momon's tone dripped with impatience, his grip tightening slightly on Xiao's throat.

Aether stepped forward, his expression fraught with concern. "Please, Momon, do not kill him," he implored.

"Why?" Momon's confusion was palpable, his gaze shifting between Aether and Paimon.

"He's an Adeptus," Paimon explained, urgency lacing her words. "Like Dvalin of Mondstadt. He's a national treasure, revered by the nation of Liyue."

Momon's grip loosened, allowing Xiao to crumple to the ground, gasping for breath. "Is that so..." Momon's voice trailed off, a hint of contemplation coloring his tone. "Well, if Dvalin found a purpose to continue his duty, then perhaps this one," he gestured towards Xiao with a dismissive flick of his hand, "has outlived his usefulness."

“Cough! Cough!” Xiao struggled to push himself upright, his breath ragged and labored. "Don't you dare... look down on me, you bastard!" he spat, each word tinged with defiance. "I was right about you... You are a monster! The malevolent aura that emanates from you knows no bounds!" Xiao's voice rang out, laced with bitterness, as he coughed up blood.

Momon regarded Xiao with a cool detachment, his expression unreadable behind his mask. "I've encountered my fair share of demons and devils in the past," he remarked, his tone calm and collected. "Yet never have I heard such accusations from the lips of a demon."

Xiao's voice reverberated with both authority and anguish as he asserted his identity and purpose. "I am an Adeptus! My duty is to protect Liyue from monsters," he declared, his tone heavy with the weight of his sworn responsibilities.

Paimon interjected, her voice carrying a note of urgency. "But Momon is different! He's a good person! We've fought together and saved Mondstadt from the clutches of Stormterror," she implored, her words echoing with earnestness.

In a sudden whirlwind of movement, Xiao disappeared from sight, reappearing several meters away from Momon in a swift, ethereal form. Despite his battered condition, he reclaimed his spear, assuming a defiant stance, his resolve unyielding despite his physical agony.

"I refuse to consort with the damned," Xiao declared vehemently, his voice echoing through the battlefield, his gaze locked fiercely onto Momon.

Despite his bravado and determination, Xiao couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of fear that gripped him. The being standing before him exuded power beyond anything he had ever encountered, a force akin to that of a deity. The dark aura swirling around Momon seemed to pulse with malevolence, casting a shadow of dread over the entire battlefield.

As he faced this formidable opponent, Xiao couldn't help but wonder what manner of creature he was confronting. It defied all logic and reason, surpassing even the most formidable abyss monsters in its sheer strength and ominous presence. How was it possible for such a being to exist in their realm, free to roam as it pleased?

The questions swirled in Xiao's mind, each one more unsettling than the last. Whatever Momon was, he was a force to be reckoned with, a manifestation of primal terror that threatened to consume everything in its path.

"Hey, demon," Momon's voice cut through the tension, drawing Xiao's attention.

Xiao eyed the object thrown at his feet cautiously, his gaze never leaving Momon's imposing figure. Slowly, he bent down to retrieve it, inspecting the vial of red liquid with suspicion. "What's this?" he asked, his voice tinged with distrust.

"It's a Minor Healing Potion. Drink it if you want to recover your strength," Momon replied calmly, his expression unreadable behind his mask.

Suspicion crept into Xiao's voice as he eyed the potion warily. "You think you can fool me! This is poison!" he accused, his tone laced with distrust.

Momon's response was immediate and blunt. "Demons are immune to poison, you idiot. Just drink it," he retorted, his patience wearing thin.

Xiao hesitated for a moment, his skepticism warring with the overwhelming pain coursing through his body. With a resigned sigh, he conceded, reluctantly uncorking the vial and swallowing its contents. Almost instantly, a wave of relief washed over him as the potion took effect, knitting his shattered bones back together and banishing the torment that had consumed him moments before. Once again, he felt invigorated, as if he could take on legions of monsters without hesitation.

But his newfound strength did little to quell the simmering resentment in his heart as he glared at Momon, his voice laced with defiance. "Why? You know I can strike you down again!" he challenged, his tone daring.

Momon met Xiao's gaze evenly, unfazed by the threat. "That's fine by me," he replied coolly. "I gave you a chance to live. If you insist on fighting again, this time I won't hesitate to break you in half." His words were calm yet carried a weight of unwavering determination, leaving no room for doubt.

The weight of Momon's threat hung heavy in the air, causing Xiao to pause and reassess the situation. As an Adeptus, it was his duty to vanquish any threat to Liyue, but the realization dawned on him that Momon was unlike any foe he had encountered in his millennia of existence. This encounter was a dire warning, and Xiao knew he had to inform his fellow Adeptus about the formidable adversary lurking in their midst. Momon was a menace that Liyue could ill afford to underestimate.

With a sense of urgency, Xiao retreated, disappearing into the swirling winds like a phantom. Momon's dismissive words trailed after him, a reminder of the perilous encounter that had just transpired.

"Little punk," Momon muttered, his voice carrying a hint of amusement tinged with underlying danger.

"That was insane!" Paimon exploded, her voice filled with a mixture of awe and trepidation. "You're strong, but... but also really scary!"

Momon raised an eyebrow, regarding Paimon with a curious expression. "What's that supposed to mean, Paimon?" he inquired, a hint of amusement lacing his tone.

"Ahaha, cool! Very cool!" Paimon replied nervously, her words rushing out in a flustered attempt to lighten the mood, though her unease was palpable.

"Hey, it's getting dark, we should move on," Aether suggested, his voice tinged with urgency. "Paimon, can you fly a bit higher and see what the heck that is? A giant tree?"

Paimon's eyes widened with realization. "Oh yes, it's Wangshu Inn!" she exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over. "We can stay there for the night, and I've heard they serve the most delicious food!" Her stomach grumbled in anticipation as she licked her lips.

Aether nodded in agreement, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "That sounds like a plan. Let's head over there, Momon," he said, turning to the enigmatic figure beside him.

Momon simply nodded in acquiescence. "Alright," he replied, his voice calm and measured as they set off towards the welcoming lights of Wangshu Inn, leaving the battlefield behind them.

Chapter Text

It was dark and Aether, Paimon, and Momon had reached the famous Wangshu Inn. Wangshu Inn stands majestically in the heart of Liyue, perched atop a colossal stone pillar that rises from the Dihua Marsh. The inn is a multi-story wooden structure, blending traditional Liyue architecture with a touch of mysticism. Its ornate, curved roofs are adorned with intricate carvings of mythological creatures, and red lanterns hang from every corner, casting a warm, welcoming glow.

The main building features a spacious balcony that wraps around its perimeter, offering breathtaking panoramic views of the surrounding marshlands and the distant Guili Plains. The balcony is dotted with tables and chairs where travelers can rest, enjoy a meal, or simply take in the serene landscape.

Aether and Paimon made their way to one of the tables on the balcony. The setting sun bathed the landscape in a warm golden light, and the lanterns began to glow softly in the gathering dusk.

A friendly waiter approached, bowing slightly. "Welcome to Wangshu Inn. What can I get for you today?"

Paimon’s eyes sparkled as she glanced at the menu. "Everything looks so good! We definitely need to try the Golden Shrimp Balls and the Bamboo Shoot Soup."

Aether chuckled. "Alright, and let’s add some Crystal Shrimp and Stir-Fried Filet to that."

The waiter nodded and took their order back to the kitchen. As they waited, Paimon swung her legs back and forth excitedly, humming a cheerful tune. Aether leaned back in his chair, letting the peaceful atmosphere of the inn wash over him.

Meanwhile, Momon was exploring the upper levels of Wangshu Inn. The wooden elevator creaked as it ascended, offering him a brief glimpse of the surrounding marshlands through the gaps in the wooden slats. When the elevator stopped, he stepped out onto a quieter floor. The corridor here was adorned with delicate silk hangings and potted plants, giving it a serene, almost ethereal quality.

Aether and Paimon’s food arrived, steaming and delicious. Paimon wasted no time digging in, her enthusiasm contagious.

"Hey, Aether," she said between bites, "do you think we’ll ever really get to know Momon? He’s so quiet and mysterious."

Aether shrugged, taking a bite of the Crystal Shrimp. "Maybe. But like I said, everyone needs their personal time. We’ll learn more about him when he’s ready to share."

Paimon nodded, her mouth full of food. "Yeah, you’re right. But for now, let’s just enjoy this feast!"

Momon stood at the pinnacle of Wangshu Inn, his undead eyes piercing the darkness with ease. Though the view would have been more breathtaking in the daylight, the nocturnal tranquility had its own charm. The gentle breeze rustled his cloak, and he took a moment to appreciate the serene surroundings.

"This is a nice spot," he murmured to himself, savoring the cool wind as it caressed his face.

As he stood there, lost in thought, he sensed someone approaching but did not turn to look. It was likely another adventurer or perhaps a wandering merchant seeking respite.

A tall woman stepped onto the balcony, her presence commanding attention. She had short, dark blue hair and pale skin that seemed to glow in the moonlight. In her hand, she held a glass of alcohol, the liquid inside shimmering as she moved.

Momon glanced at her briefly, deciding it was best to leave her in peace now that the spot was occupied. He turned to go, but her voice stopped him in his tracks.

"You almost killed Adeptus Xiao, didn't you?" she said, her tone cold and accusatory.

Momon paused, frowning as he faced her again. "The who?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

The woman’s eyes narrowed, and she took a slow, deliberate sip from her glass before speaking again. "Adeptus Xiao. He's a guardian of Liyue, an adeptus. You fought him recently, did you not?"

Realization dawned on Momon. "Ah, the warrior with the mask. Yes, I remember now. But 'almost killed'? That's a bit dramatic, don’t you think? He was more than capable of holding his own."

The woman’s grip on her glass tightened slightly. "He may be strong, but your actions have consequences. The adepti protect this land, and any threat to them is taken seriously."

Momon studied her for a moment, noting the intensity in her eyes. "I see. And what is your interest in this matter? Are you a protector of these lands as well?"

She took another sip, her gaze never leaving his. "You could say that. My name is Yelan, and I have a vested interest in ensuring the safety of Liyue and its guardians."

Momon nodded slowly. "Well, Yelan, it was not my intention to cause harm. Our encounter was merely a misunderstanding. If it’s any consolation, I hold no ill will towards Xiao or your land."

Yelan’s expression softened slightly, though her eyes remained wary. "Misunderstandings can still lead to disaster. Be mindful of your actions, traveler."

“Listen here,” Momon’s voice was a low, commanding growl. “Your little friend threatened me and my companions, and he almost paid for it. Do not tell me to be mindful of my actions when you yourself can’t do that.”

The woman stood her ground despite the palpable tension. She clutched her glass of alcohol, her knuckles turning white, but her expression remained calm and composed. Her sharp eyes narrowed as she studied Momon’s mask, noticing two glowing red dots where his eyes should be. The mask obscured his face entirely, leaving her to wonder what, or who lay beneath.

Yelan’s voice was cool and steady, though edged with a hint of defiance. “Your presence here is unusual, and your power is undeniable. But Xiao has dedicated his existence to protecting this land. Any perceived threat is met with force. Can you blame him for being cautious?”

Momon’s posture remained unyielding, his voice unwavering. “Caution is one thing. Unprovoked aggression is another. My companions and I have no interest in causing trouble here.” Momon, towering over Yelan, maintained his composure as he addressed her with a stern tone. “I must also rtell you, that we are Honorary Knights of Favonius. Any unprovoked action against us might lead to diplomatic tension between Mondstadt and Liyue. I suggest you think carefully about that, miss.”

With that, Momon turned and began to walk away, his footsteps echoing softly on the balcony floor. Yelan was left in contemplative silence, her gaze following his retreating figure.

Recently, Yelan had heard stories of two brave heroes from Mondstadt who had confronted and defeated Stormterror, a formidable foe threatening their land. She had been impressed by their valor and skill, and now, faced with one of these heroes, she was forced to reconsider her initial assumptions.

As she stood there, the cool night breeze rustling her dark blue hair, Yelan’s thoughts churned. She had always valued strength and honor, but the implications of this encounter were more complex than she had anticipated. The potential for diplomatic strife between their nations was a serious matter, and it was clear that Momon was not to be underestimated.

Momon descended from Wangshu Inn, his senses keen and alert. As he reached the ground, he noticed that Yelan was not alone. Hidden among the shadows and foliage around the inn, he could detect her lackeys, their presence subtly betrayed by the occasional rustle or faint whisper. Lifting his gaze back to the balcony, he saw Yelan still standing there, her eyes fixed on him.

“If you’re going to play like that…” Momon muttered under his breath, his voice laced with resolve. “[Summon Shadow Demon]!”

A pitch-black creature materialized at his feet as if born from the very essence of darkness itself. The demon’s form was amorphous, shifting and writhing like a living shadow on the ground.

“Eliminate all the spies hiding around this building,” Momon commanded, his tone cold and precise. "Do not kill anyone, but inflict a career-ending wound. Ensure they will never pose a threat again. And if you encounter someone who poses a real threat to you, retreat immediately.”

The Shadow Demon received its orders, its form pulsating with dark energy as it slithered silently into the surrounding shadows. It moved with an eerie grace, blending seamlessly with the night as it set about its task.

Momon went back to the table where Aether and Paimon were eating and sat there as if nothing happened. Yelan continued to watch him for almost an hour but Momon was still just talking to Aether and Paimon.

In the early morning, Wangshu Inn bustled with life, the air filled with the chatter of merchants, travelers, and locals alike. The sun’s first rays cast a golden hue over the landscape, but the inn’s vibrant atmosphere was of little comfort to Yelan. She had spent the entire night on high alert, watching the three strangers—Momon and his companions—from a distance. Her instincts told her they were dangerous, but she had no tangible proof to justify taking action against them.

Just as Yelan was contemplating her next move, Verr Goldet, the innkeeper, approached her with a grave expression. The news she delivered was nothing short of alarming: a group of ten men had been found on a small island near Wangshu Inn, and something terrible had happened to them.

Yelan's heart sank. Abandoning her vigil, she quickly made her way to the island, her thoughts racing. She had a bad feeling about this.

When she arrived at the scene, her worst fears were confirmed. The sight that greeted her was devastating. Her special team, composed of some of the best operatives in Liyue, lay scattered across the ground, their bodies battered and broken. Yet, despite the severity of their injuries, none of them were dead. They were alive, but incapacitated, as if frozen in a state of paralysis.

“What just happened?” Yelan demanded, her voice sharp as she turned to the nearest Millelith soldier.

The soldier, a young man clearly shaken by what he had witnessed, stammered out a response. “M-Ma'am, we have no idea. We were just patrolling this area when we stumbled upon them. They... they seem to be from the Ministry of Civil Affairs. But what could have possibly done this to them?”

Yelan’s eyes narrowed as she surveyed the scene, her mind working to piece together the events. She wanted to blame Momon—after all, he was the most suspicious individual she had encountered recently—but she had been watching him almost all night. There was no way he could have done this without her noticing.

She knelt beside one of her fallen operatives, carefully examining his condition. The man’s eyes were wide open, staring blankly at the sky, but his lips were motionless, unable to utter a single word. She touched his skin; it was cold, clammy, and unresponsive to her touch.

Yelan’s shock deepened. This wasn’t a typical injury, nor was it the result of any ordinary combat. It was as if their very life force had been drained, leaving them as empty shells—alive, but barely so.

“None of them are dead,” she murmured to herself, a mix of relief and dread washing over her. “But what kind of power could do this?”

Her mind raced through the possibilities. Could this be some form of curse? A forbidden art? Or perhaps an ability far beyond her understanding? The answers eluded her, but one thing was certain: whoever or whatever had done this was extraordinarily powerful and highly dangerous.

Yelan stood up, her eyes scanning the surroundings as if hoping to catch a glimpse of the assailant. But the island was quiet, serene even, the morning light betraying no signs of the violence that had taken place.

She clenched her fists, her determination hardening. Whether or not Momon was involved, this incident needed to be investigated thoroughly. She couldn’t afford to let something like this happen again, and she needed to find out who was behind it—before it was too late.

Chapter Text

After two long days of travel across the Guili Plains, the travelers finally reached the outskirts of Liyue Harbor. The city's grandeur, even from a distance, left Momon deeply impressed.

The towering golden structures, intricate architecture, and bustling activity of the port city stood in stark contrast to the vast and tranquil plains they had just crossed. Liyue Harbor, nestled between the mountains and the sea, was a vibrant hub of commerce and culture, its streets alive with the energy of countless merchants, travelers, and citizens.

Momon paused on a hill overlooking the city, taking in the sight. The gleaming stone pillars, adorned with intricate carvings, and the elegant bridges that arched over the waterways were unlike anything he had ever seen before. The city seemed to pulse with life, its heart beating in time with the rhythm of the waves that lapped against the harbor.

“This city… it’s magnificent,” Momon muttered to himself, his voice filled with a rare sense of wonder. The sheer scale and beauty of Liyue Harbor were overwhelming, even for someone as seasoned and stoic as him.

His companions, too, seemed captivated by the sight, though perhaps for different reasons. For them, Liyue was a place of opportunity, a city where fortunes could be made and lost, where secrets were traded like commodities.

As they descended towards the city gates, the air grew warmer, filled with the scents of exotic spices and the distant hum of activity. The towering Geo Archon statues, standing guard over the city, seemed to welcome them with their imposing presence, a testament to the city's deep history and strength.

As Momon, Aether, and Paimon made their way through the bustling streets of Liyue Harbor, they couldn't help but notice the wary glances they were attracting. The city guards, stationed at various points along the streets, were particularly vigilant, their eyes trained on the newcomers.

Momon, with his imposing height, drew the most attention. He towered above the crowds, his dark, heavy armor glinting under the sunlight. A hood concealed much of his head, and the mask that obscured his face only added to his enigmatic and intimidating presence. His very aura seemed to exude an otherworldly power, a palpable tension that made those around him instinctively cautious.

The guards exchanged uneasy looks as the trio passed by. They were accustomed to seeing all manner of travelers in Liyue, but there was something different about Momon. His appearance alone was enough to put them on edge, but it was the aura he emitted—a sense of restrained power, like a storm waiting to be unleashed—that truly unsettled them.

One guard, a seasoned veteran with years of experience, tightened his grip on his spear as he whispered to his companion, "Keep an eye on that one. He doesn't look like your usual adventurer."

His fellow guard nodded, his gaze never leaving Momon. "Yeah, there's something off about him. We should report this to the higher-ups, just in case."

As they continued through the city, Paimon floated closer to Aether, whispering, "Uh, Aether? I think those guards are suspicious of us. Or maybe just of Momon. He does look a bit... intimidating."

Aether glanced at Momon, who seemed completely unfazed by the attention. Despite the tension in the air, Momon walked with a calm, measured stride, his posture relaxed but alert. Aether knew that Momon’s appearance was likely contributing to the guards' wariness, but there was little they could do about it.

Momon, on the other hand, was fully aware of the scrutiny but chose to ignore it. He had grown accustomed to the fearful or suspicious looks from others, understanding that his appearance often inspired such reactions. However, he wasn’t here to cause trouble; he was simply a traveler in a foreign land, observing and learning as he went.

Paimon hovered around Aether, her usual curiosity bubbling to the surface as they wandered through Liyue Harbor. "So how are we supposed to know when the Rite of Descension is happening? It could be today or tomorrow for all we know!" she exclaimed, a hint of impatience in her voice.

Momon, ever the calm presence, offered a simple solution. “Well, you two should just go ask the locals,” he suggested, his voice steady and practical.

Taking his advice to heart, the trio made their way through the bustling streets until they spotted a woman standing by a stall filled with intriguing wares. Her name was Linlang, and she had a friendly demeanor that put them at ease.

Aether approached her, offering a polite smile. “Hello, miss. May I ask you something?”

Linlang’s face lit up with a bright smile, welcoming the inquiry. “Sure! What would you like to know?”

“We were wondering when the Rite of Descension is going to take place,” Aether asked, his tone courteous but eager for information.

Linlang’s smile widened as she replied, “Oh, it's today! Once a year, Rex Lapis bestows upon us his divine prediction, guiding us on how to run Liyue for the coming year.”

Paimon’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Today? Wow, that’s amazing! We’re just in time!”

Aether nodded, grateful for the information. “And where is this rite taking place?”

Linlang gestured towards the distant, elevated part of the city. “You should head up to Yujing Terrace, on the high grounds. It’s the highest place in the harbor—sounds like the best place for trying to communicate with deities, don’t you think?”

Aether glanced in the direction she indicated, his eyes settling on the majestic terrace that overlooked the city. It was clear that Yujing Terrace was an important and sacred place, fitting for such an auspicious event.

“Thank you so much for your help,” Aether said with a grateful nod.

Linlang waved them off with a cheerful smile. “You’re welcome! Enjoy the Rite of Descension—it’s truly a sight to behold.”

As they made their way towards Yujing Terrace, Paimon buzzed with excitement. “This is going to be so cool! I wonder what kind of divine prediction Rex Lapis will give this year!”

“There’s no need to concern ourselves with his divine predictions, Paimon,” Momon said, his tone firm and focused. His eyes, though hidden behind the mask, seemed to radiate a sense of purpose. He then turned to Aether, his voice lowering slightly as if to emphasize the importance of his next words. “We will follow the mission. We should ask him politely for a conversation once the Rite is over, when he’s not surrounded by his followers. If things go well, that will be your moment to ask about your sister, Aether.”

Aether nodded in agreement, his expression serious as he absorbed Momon’s advice. The mention of his sister brought a renewed determination to his eyes. He knew that this might be one of the few opportunities to gain information about her whereabouts, and he was ready to seize it.

“Got it. We just need to wait for the right moment.” Paimon, though still excited about the upcoming event, understood the gravity of the situation and floated quietly by Aether's side, her usual chatter replaced with a thoughtful silence.

As the three travelers approached Yujing Terrace, they were greeted by the sight of a massive crowd gathered in anticipation of Rex Lapis' descent from the heavens. The air was thick with excitement and reverence, as people from all walks of life waited to witness the divine event. The sheer number of people could have made navigating through the crowd difficult, but the presence of Momon changed that.

Momon, towering above everyone else and radiating an intimidating aura, made an immediate impression on those around him. His imposing stature and the unsettling energy that seemed to emanate from him caused those in the crowd to instinctively step aside, their faces marked by a mix of fear and awe. Whispers spread quickly through the throng as people made way for the trio, their curiosity piqued by the mysterious stranger who walked with such confidence.

Aether and Paimon followed closely behind Momon, grateful for the path he was inadvertently clearing. They exchanged glances, both aware of the effect Momon was having on the crowd but choosing not to comment on it.

As they reached the front of the gathering, the scene before them was breathtaking. In the center of the massive terrace stood a grand stone table, intricately carved and adorned with offerings. It was clearly prepared for Rex Lapis, a symbol of the respect and reverence the people of Liyue held for their Archon.

But what truly caught their attention was the woman standing nearby. She was extraordinarily beautiful, with an air of grace and authority that immediately commanded respect. Dressed in elegant robes that shimmered in the light, she was accompanied by two female servants, both of whom attended to her with the utmost care.

Aether couldn’t help but be struck by her presence. There was something regal about her, as if she was not just a person of importance but someone deeply connected to the very essence of Liyue itself.

Paimon floated closer to Aether, whispering, “Wow, who do you think she is? She looks really important!”

Momon, observing the scene with his usual calm demeanor, remained silent. He studied the woman carefully, noting the way the crowd seemed to part for her just as they had for him. This was no ordinary person; her presence here, so close to where Rex Lapis would descend, indicated that she held a significant position in Liyue.

The beautiful woman’s gaze shifted skyward, her expression calm but filled with anticipation. A soft smile graced her lips as she seemed to sense something in the air, something that the others could not yet perceive. “The hour is upon us!” she declared, her voice carrying an almost musical quality that immediately drew the attention of everyone present.

With a graceful movement, she raised her hand, revealing a Vision—a small, glowing gem that marked her as one of the chosen few blessed with elemental power. Her Vision radiated with the golden hue of Geo, the element of the earth, solid and enduring. The crowd watched in reverent silence as she stepped forward, approaching the grand stone table at the center of the terrace.

On the table rested a beautifully crafted censer, an ornate vessel meant to hold burning incense. With a gentle wave of her hand, she directed her Geo energy towards the censer. The power of the earth flowed through her, and the golden light of her Vision pulsed as the censer began to glow in response.

The air grew tense as the woman channeled her Geo energy into the ritual, a brilliant beam of golden light shooting up from the censer into the sky. The beam pierced the heavens, creating a vortex of swirling clouds that darkened the once-clear sky. The center of the vortex glowed with a radiant golden hue as if a portal was being opened for Rex Lapis himself to descend.

The crowd watched in awe, their hearts filled with anticipation. This was the moment they had been waiting for—the arrival of their revered Archon of Geo. All eyes were fixed on the swirling clouds above, waiting for the god to make his appearance.

But as the moments passed, the woman’s expression began to shift. She noticed something was wrong. The energy in the air felt off, and the golden glow within the vortex flickered unnervingly. Before she could react, the vortex convulsed, and a massive form began to plummet from the sky.

With a deafening crash, a gigantic dragon fell from the vortex, landing directly on the grand stone table in the center of the terrace. The impact was catastrophic—the stone table shattered into rubble, and the ground trembled beneath the weight of the beast. The crowd gasped in shock, their reverence turning to horror as they recoiled from the sight.

Momon’s eyes narrowed as he took in the creature’s appearance. The dragon’s serpentine body and majestic horns were unmistakably reminiscent of the eastern dragons from legends—a creature of immense power and grandeur. “Is that thing Rex Lapis?” he murmured to Aether, his voice low and cautious.

Aether, equally stunned, could only shake his head, uncertainty clouding his thoughts. Paimon hovered close to him, her eyes wide with fear and confusion.

The woman, still composed despite the chaos, approached the fallen dragon with a mix of disbelief and concern. She examined the massive creature, her hands trembling as she reached out to touch its cold, lifeless scales. There was no mistaking it—the dragon was dead.

Her eyes widened as the realization set in, and she quickly turned to face the crowd, her voice ringing out with urgency. “Rex Lapis has been killed! Seal the exits!” she commanded, her tone leaving no room for hesitation.

Panic erupted in the crowd as people began to comprehend the gravity of the situation. The mighty Rex Lapis, the protector and deity of Liyue, had fallen before their very eyes. The citizens scrambled in confusion, fear gripping their hearts as guards rushed to carry out the woman’s orders, sealing off every possible escape route from Yujing Terrace.

Momon remained calm, his mind racing as he assessed the situation. This was more than just a tragic event—it was a disaster that could throw the entire city into turmoil. The death of an Archon would not only shatter the people’s faith but could also lead to chaos on a massive scale.

Momon watched the scene unfold with an unnerving calm. The chaos around them—panicked citizens, scrambling guards, and the shock of Rex Lapis' apparent demise—didn’t seem to faze him. Instead, he turned to Aether. “Well, this one’s gone for good, Aether,” he said, his voice steady as if discussing something far less significant. “That leaves us with five more Archons to go. Let’s move.”

Aether hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the fallen dragon and the crowd spiraling into chaos. A twinge of sadness crossed his face, but he quickly steeled himself. “It’s sad… but you’re right. We need to get out of here before things get worse.”

Paimon floated close to Aether, her usual cheer replaced by a worried frown. “Yeah, we don’t want to get caught up in this mess. Let’s get out of here!”

The three travelers began to make their way toward the stairs leading away from Yujing Terrace. The chaos around them worked to their advantage, as the guards were too preoccupied with controlling the panicked crowd to notice the trio slipping away. The tension in the air was palpable, with citizens crying out in fear and confusion, and the once-reverent atmosphere now charged with uncertainty.

As they reached the stairs, it seemed they might just make their escape unnoticed. But suddenly, a sharp voice cut through the din. “Stop right there!” one of the guards shouted, his tone authoritative and filled with urgency.

Momon, Aether, and Paimon froze in their tracks, turning to face the guards who were now rushing toward them. The situation had become more dangerous than they anticipated, and it was clear that the guards were not going to let anyone leave the terrace without thorough scrutiny.

Paimon flitted closer to Aether, her voice a frantic whisper. “What do we do? They’re onto us!”

Aether stepped forward, keeping his voice steady and calm despite the mounting tension. “Hello, sir. We’re just adventurers, and since things took a turn for the worse with the Rite of Descension, we were simply trying to leave.”

The guard’s eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the trio. “It’s not up to you to decide whether you can leave or not,” he barked, his tone accusatory. “The people are saying that three strange foreigners who appeared at the Rite of Descension must have something to do with the assassination of Rex Lapis.”

Paimon, her temper flaring, floated up to the guard’s eye level, her small fists clenched. “That’s a ridiculous accusation! How could we possibly kill a god? Are you out of your mind? Maybe you should be looking for some other god who has a grudge against Rex Lapis!”

The guard’s face twisted in anger at Paimon’s outburst. “Enough! We will not tolerate this insolence! Arrest them!” he ordered, and the Millelith soldiers began advancing on the group, their weapons raised.

Momon, who had been silent up to this point, let out a low growl of frustration. He had no patience for this kind of bureaucratic nonsense, especially when it came with baseless accusations. “Ugh, enough with this soft shit!” he muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with disdain.

Without hesitation, Momon drew his sword, the cold steel gleaming in the light as he brandished it with deadly intent. The soldiers hesitated, clearly unnerved by the sudden escalation. Momon’s presence, already intimidating, now radiated a palpable threat that made the guards falter.

Aether, sensing that the situation was spiraling out of control, quickly tried to de-escalate. “Momon, wait! We don’t want to make things worse!” he urged, though he knew that the point of no return might already have been crossed.

The lead guard, though visibly shaken by Momon’s readiness to fight, stood his ground. “You think you can just draw your weapon against the Millelith and walk away? You’re only proving your guilt!”

Momon’s eyes, glowing ominously beneath his mask, locked onto the guard. “You’re accusing us of something we had nothing to do with. We’re leaving—one way or another.”

The tension hung thick in the air, the standoff teetering on the edge of violence. The guards, though trained and disciplined, were clearly unsure of how to proceed against someone as fearsome as Momon. Aether tightened his grip on his own weapon, ready to defend himself and his companions if it came to that, while Paimon hovered close, her eyes darting nervously between the guards and Momon.

“Get them!” the lead guard barked, his voice cutting through the air like a whip.

In an instant, the Millelith soldiers charged forward, their halberds gleaming as they thrust them at the trio. The air was filled with the sound of clanking armor and shouts of determination as the guards moved in unison, their training evident in the precision of their attack.

But Momon was ready.

With a fluid, almost effortless motion, Momon swung his massive sword. The blade moved with a speed that belied its size, cutting through the air with a whistling sound. In a flash, the halberds of the advancing soldiers met the edge of Momon’s sword, and the result was devastating.

The halberds, sturdy weapons crafted from the finest materials in Liyue, were sliced cleanly in two as if they were made of nothing more than brittle twigs. The sheer force and precision of Momon’s strike sent the broken halves clattering to the ground, leaving the soldiers disarmed and momentarily stunned.

Momon’s movements were smooth and controlled, his strength undeniable as he dispatched the soldiers' weapons with a single stroke. The Millelith, now weaponless and facing an opponent who clearly outmatched them, hesitated, fear and uncertainty flickering in their eyes.

Aether watched in awe, realizing once again just how powerful Momon truly was. Paimon hovered close to him, her usual chatter replaced by a stunned silence as she took in the scene.

Momon didn’t relent, his stance firm as he raised his sword again, ready for any further aggression. “If you value your lives, stand down,” he said, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable weight of authority. The soldiers, now wary of the formidable opponent before them, exchanged nervous glances, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

The lead guard, though visibly shaken, wasn’t ready to give up. “You… you won’t get away with this!” he stammered, his voice lacking the confidence it had before. “Reinforcements will be here soon, and you’ll—”

Without warning, Momon raised his free hand, his fingers curling as he summoned his magic. “[Shockwave],” he intoned, his voice calm yet commanding.

In an instant, a powerful burst of energy erupted from his palm, spreading out in a circular wave that swept across the terrace. The air hummed with raw power as the shockwave expanded, slamming into the advancing Millelith soldiers with an overwhelming force.

The soldiers were thrown back as if struck by an invisible hammer, their bodies lifted off their feet and sent crashing to the ground. The force of the shockwave was so strong that it shattered nearby stone tiles and sent debris flying in all directions. The Millelith, despite their armor and training, were utterly powerless against the sheer strength of Momon’s magic.

The guards hit the ground hard, some skidding across the terrace while others collided with the stone walls. Groans of pain filled the air as they struggled to regain their bearings, the wind knocked out of them by the brutal impact. Weapons and shields clattered to the ground, and it was clear that none of them were in any condition to continue the fight.

Momon lowered his hand, the magic dissipating as quickly as it had been summoned. He stood tall and unyielding, his sword still in his other hand, though now it seemed almost unnecessary. The display of power had made his point clear—he was not someone to be trifled with.

As the shockwave's reverberations settled, it became clear that the commotion had drawn the attention of not just the nearby guards but also some of the Liyue Qixing. Their disciplined response was swift, with a flood of reinforcements pouring in from every direction, their faces set in determination.

Aether glanced around nervously, the tension in the air palpable. “Oh, they’re going to be furious about this, Momon. Really, really mad!” he said, his voice laced with concern.

Momon's eyes flickered with annoyance, but he remained composed. "Just move. I’ll follow."

Without wasting another second, Aether sprinted down the stairs of Yujing Terrace, Paimon flying anxiously beside him. "Come on, Paimon!"

"Yes!" Paimon replied, her worry evident in her voice as she kept pace with Aether.

Momon watched them go, his expression hidden behind his mask, but his mind was focused and unyielding. Just as he was about to follow, he saw the approaching swarm of guards—too many to deal with efficiently, especially with Aether and Paimon now out of sight.

“[Wall of Fire],” Momon muttered, raising his hand with a practiced ease.

Immediately, a massive wall of searing flames erupted between him and the oncoming guards. The intense heat radiated outward, forcing the guards to halt in their tracks, their eyes wide with shock as the flames crackled and roared before them. The wall of fire was wide and high, an insurmountable barrier that gave Momon the precious seconds he needed to think.

“That will hold them for a bit,” he said to himself, his voice calm as ever despite the escalating situation.

He turned to head down the stairs, only to realize that Aether and Paimon were nowhere to be seen. A quick scan of the area revealed no sign of them, leaving Momon momentarily perplexed. “Did he use the glider or something?” he mused, looking down the stairs for any sign of his companions.

But there was no time to dwell on it. More guards were rushing up the stairs, their weapons drawn and their determination clear. The leading guard, emboldened by the sight of reinforcements, shouted with confidence, “You won’t get away this time, criminal!”

Momon’s eyes narrowed beneath his mask. He had no patience for this. The situation was rapidly spiraling out of control, and he needed to reunite with Aether and Paimon as quickly as possible.

“Get the hell out of my sight, punk!”

With a swift, decisive motion, Momon stepped forward and delivered a powerful kick to the chest of the lead guard. The force of the blow sent the guard flying backward, his body crashing into three more guards behind him. The impact was so strong that it sent all four of them tumbling down the stairs, their weapons clattering as they fell.

“AAAAAAHHH!” The guards screamed as they plummeted down, eventually landing with a splash in the pool below. Fortunately for them, the water broke their fall, sparing them from more serious injury.

Momon didn’t waste any more time. With the path momentarily clear, he hurried down the stairs, scanning the area for any sign of Aether and Paimon. The city of Liyue Harbor was sprawling and complex, with countless alleys, stairways, and platforms. Finding them in this labyrinth wouldn’t be easy, especially with the growing number of guards now alerted to his presence.

“Stop!”

Momon halted his steps as the command echoed through the air. A few meters ahead, the same woman who had conducted the ceremony to welcome Rex Lapis now stood in his path. Her expression was a mix of determination and controlled anger, her regal demeanor commanding attention. Flanking her were her two loyal servants, their postures tense, ready to support their mistress in whatever would come next.

Beside the woman stood another figure—a striking woman with blue hair and delicate horns sprouting from her head. She exuded an aura of grace and power, her bow already drawn and aimed directly at Momon. Her sharp eyes locked onto him, ready to release the arrow at a moment's notice.

Momon’s gaze flicked over his shoulder as he sensed another presence behind him. There, blocking his retreat, was a woman with light purple hair styled into waist-length twin-tails, accented by small odango-style buns resembling cat ears. Her stance was that of a skilled warrior, and she held a sword at the ready, her eyes narrowed as she prepared to confront the intruder who had brought chaos to Liyue.

The tension in the air was palpable, each side waiting for the other to make a move.

Momon assessed his surroundings. He was now surrounded by some of Liyue’s most formidable defenders, each of them clearly ready to fight if necessary. Despite the odds, he remained calm, his mind calculating the best course of action.

“So, you’re the one who performed the ceremony,” Momon addressed the woman ahead, his voice steady. “And now you’re standing in my way. What’s the meaning of this?”

The woman, Ningguang, gave him a measured look. “You’ve caused enough trouble here. Liyue has suffered a great loss today, and your actions have only made things worse. We cannot allow you to leave without answers.”

Behind her, the woman with blue hair—Ganyu—tightened her grip on her bow, her gaze unwavering. “Surrender now, and we may yet resolve this without further bloodshed.”

Momon’s eyes narrowed slightly, his patience wearing thin. “I didn’t come here to fight your city or your Archon. But if you insist on standing in my way, I won’t hesitate to defend myself.”

The woman behind him, Keqing, shifted her stance, her sword gleaming in the dim light. “Your actions have brought chaos to Liyue. You’ll answer for them, whether you like it or not.”

Momon turned sharply to face Keqing, his voice carrying a cold edge as he addressed her. “Listen here, kitty! Since the moment I set foot in this nation, I’ve been attacked and accused for no reason. First, there was some midget who picked a fight with me… what was his name again… ah, yes, Xiao. Adeptus Xiao. This guy decided to attack me out of nowhere.”

A collective gasp rippled through the group. Ningguang's eyes widened, and Ganyu’s hand trembled slightly as she lowered her bow. Xiao was not just any opponent—he was an extraordinarily powerful Yaksha, a being whose strength was feared and respected throughout Liyue. For anyone to have survived an encounter with him, let alone claim to have fought him, was almost beyond belief.

“Second,” Momon continued, his tone steady but laced with irritation, “this woman, Yelan, accused me of almost killing Xiao, even though he was the one who started it. All I did was protect myself and my companions.”

Ganyu’s grip on her bow loosened completely, her face paling as she absorbed what he was saying. The idea that this stranger had not only survived but nearly killed Xiao was terrifying. She had never encountered anyone with such power, not even among the adepti.

“And now,” Momon concluded, his voice dropping to a dangerous calm, “here I am, being accused of killing your Archon by the guards.”

Ningguang, Keqing, and Ganyu exchanged uneasy glances. The gravity of the situation was beginning to settle in. If what Momon said was true, then they were dealing with someone far more dangerous than they had initially realized. Someone who had fought and nearly bested Xiao, someone who could withstand the combined might of Liyue’s defenders, and someone who was now cornered and pushed to the brink.

Keqing’s grip on her sword tightened, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the situation. “Whether or not you’ve been wronged, that doesn’t justify causing further harm to Liyue. We need to get to the bottom of this, and we need answers.”

Momon’s red eyes behind his mask flared with a dangerous light. “And you think threatening me is the way to get them? If you want answers, you’re going to have to trust me—or fight me. But be warned, I don’t lose.”

Ningguang raised a hand, signaling for calm. “We don’t want to escalate this further. There’s been enough chaos today. If you truly didn’t kill Rex Lapis, then help us find out who did. We can resolve this without more bloodshed.”

Momon regarded Ningguang carefully. He could sense her intent, a mix of caution and diplomacy. “If you’re serious about finding the truth, then stop treating me like an enemy. I didn’t come here to fight your people, but I won’t be cornered and attacked without defending myself.”

Ganyu’s eyes widened in realization, her breath catching as she connected the dots. “Who—Who are you?” she asked, her voice a mixture of caution and curiosity.

Momon turned slightly, his gaze resting on her. “My name is Momon.”

The name seemed to ring a bell in Ganyu’s mind. She furrowed her brows, searching her memory. “Momon?” she repeated, trying to place where she had recently heard that name. Suddenly, it clicked, and her eyes widened in shock. “Wait… you’re that Momon?”

Momon’s voice took on a puzzled tone. “That Momon?”

“The Honorary Knight from Mondstadt! One of the heroes who defeated Stormterror and the Abyss Order!” Ganyu exclaimed, the shock in her voice palpable.

Momon’s posture relaxed slightly, and he let out a small, almost dismissive chuckle. “Yeah, yeah, that’s me, miss. I am that Momon.”

The atmosphere shifted as Ganyu’s revelation sank in. Even Ningguang and Keqing, who had been poised to confront him, hesitated. They had heard of Momon’s exploits, tales of his bravery and strength that had spread far beyond Mondstadt. To realize that the man standing before them was the same legendary hero was both surprising and unsettling.

Ningguang bowed her head respectfully, her voice carrying the weight of her authority and the sincerity of her words. “It’s an honor to meet you, Honorary Knight. Your heroic deeds have reached Liyue, and many have spoken of your valor. As the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing, we extend our deepest apologies for wrongly accusing you and your companions. It is a tragedy that someone of your stature has had such a troublesome experience in our nation.”

Her words were sincere, carrying the weight of someone who understood the gravity of the situation. Ningguang’s acknowledgment of his identity and the apology softened the atmosphere, and the tension that had been building began to ease.

Momon, still standing tall and imposing, regarded her with a nod. “Apology accepted. I understand the circumstances you’re in, especially after what’s just happened."

Ningguang straightened, her eyes filled with resolve. “Our priority is to uncover the truth behind Rex Lapis’ death. Your assistance in this matter would be invaluable, given your experience and strength. We cannot allow such a heinous act to go unpunished, and with your help, we can ensure justice is served.”

Keqing, who had remained wary up to this point, nodded in agreement. “If you truly wish to help, then we will welcome your support. Liyue is in a vulnerable state, and we need all the allies we can get.”

Ganyu, still processing the shock of meeting the Honorary Knight, managed a small smile. “Thank you for your understanding, Sir Momon. We’ve heard so much about you, and it’s a relief to know that you’re on our side.”

“I may be aligned with you for now,” Momon said with a weary sigh, “but the true power dynamics of this nation are still unclear to me. Rex Lapis was once the undisputed authority, but with his passing, who holds sway over Liyue? Is it the Liyue Qixing, with their intricate web of politics, or the Adepti, with their ancient traditions and might?”

Ningguang's face grew solemn at Momon's question, recognizing the weight of the issue he raised. The death of Rex Lapis was not just a tragedy but a crisis that could potentially unravel the delicate balance of power in Liyue.

“The governance of Liyue has traditionally been a balance between the Liyue Qixing and the Adepti,” Ningguang began, her voice measured and authoritative. “Rex Lapis, as the Geo Archon, held ultimate authority, but he also respected the role of the Qixing and the Adepti in maintaining harmony within the city and its surrounding areas.”

Keqing stepped forward, her expression reflecting the gravity of the situation. “With Rex Lapis’s death, the immediate responsibility falls to the Liyue Qixing. We are tasked with maintaining order, addressing the concerns of both the Adepti and the citizens, and ensuring that the city does not descend into chaos.”

Ganyu added, her voice tinged with concern, “However, the Adepti are deeply devoted to Rex Lapis. Their loyalty and reverence for him run deep. It is inevitable that they will demand answers and accountability for his death. The Qixing must navigate this delicate situation carefully to prevent any potential conflict.”

Ningguang nodded in agreement. “We are aware of the challenges that lie ahead. The Qixing will need to engage with the Adepti and address their concerns with respect and transparency. Our goal is to prevent any escalation that could lead to conflict between our two orders.”

Momon’s eyes narrowed slightly as he considered the implications. “If the Adepti are as zealous as you say, it might not be easy to placate them. They could see this as a betrayal or a failure on the part of the Qixing.”

Momon’s words rang true. The Liyue Qixing might offer explanations to the Adepti, but many of these celestial beings regard humans with disdain. They wouldn’t hesitate to annihilate entire cities they were sworn to protect if it meant upholding the will of the Geo Archon.

Ganyu’s gaze fell to the ground, her expression filled with a mix of concern and resignation. As an Adeptus herself, she was acutely aware of the complexities involved in dealing with her fellow Adepti. Their devotion to Rex Lapis and their traditional views could make them resistant to compromise.

Keqing’s expression hardened with resolve as she spoke. “A new age is upon us, and I believe that humanity’s future should be shaped by human decisions rather than being dictated by gods or supernatural beings.”

Momon’s gaze was steady as he responded, his voice calm but firm. “If that’s the stance you plan to take with the Adepti, then I strongly recommend you reconsider. Zealous beings, particularly those who view themselves as protectors of a divine mandate, can be incredibly difficult to handle. Their sense of duty might lead to extreme reactions.”

Keqing’s eyes narrowed, her determination unwavering. “I understand the risks, but if we allow the Adepti to dictate our future, we risk stagnation. Humanity should have a say in its own destiny.”

Momon shook his head slightly. “It’s not about undermining your ideals. It’s about pragmatism. The Adepti’s loyalty and fervor could lead them to take drastic actions if they feel their beliefs are being challenged or ignored. Balancing respect for their views with the need for progress is a delicate task.”

Ningguang stepped forward, her voice carrying authority. “Keqing, it’s essential to find a middle ground. We must honor the Adepti’s contributions and respect their role while also guiding Liyue towards a future where humans have a say in their own governance. It’s a balance we must strike carefully.”

As the situation began to settle, Momon’s mind drifted elsewhere. “Where in the world is Aether?” he wondered.

Chapter Text

Mt. Aocang

At Mount Aocang, the air was thick with tension as the Adepti gathered to discuss the grim news that had shaken their world. The normally serene and mystical landscape now felt charged with anger and sorrow. The assassination of Rex Lapis, the Geo Archon, had sent shockwaves through the Adepti, who had long served and revered him.

Around a large stone table, the Adepti had assembled. Each one was a powerful being, with a deep connection to the elements and ancient traditions. The gathering was a somber affair, but the emotions running high were undeniable.

“Those dirty humans!” a tall, muscular bipedal lion Adeptus roared, his voice echoing across the mountain. He slammed his fist on the stone table, causing it to crack slightly under the force of his fury. “I knew it! Never trust humans, but no one wanted to listen, and here we are!”

The other Adepti present, each unique in their form and abilities, exchanged glances. Some shared the lion Adeptus's anger, while others appeared more conflicted. The loss of Rex Lapis had not only left a void in their hearts but also in the leadership of Liyue, and the implications were grave.

A slender, ethereal crane Adeptus with a long neck and delicate features spoke up, her voice calm but laced with sadness. “It is a tragic loss, but we must not let our grief turn to blind rage. Rex Lapis trusted the people of Liyue, and we must honor his memory by thinking carefully before acting.”

“But how can we sit idly by while the humans who were supposed to protect him may have been involved in his death?” a serpent Adeptus hissed, coiling tightly around a nearby tree. “We should descend upon the city and bring justice with our own hands!”

“Justice or vengeance?” a deep, rumbling voice asked, belonging to a massive stone golem Adeptus, his form blending with the very mountain they stood on. “The line between the two is thin, and we must tread carefully.”

The lion Adeptus growled, baring his sharp teeth. “I don’t care for your philosophical musings! Rex Lapis is gone, and those responsible must pay. If the humans think they can take his place, they are sorely mistaken.”

The crane Adeptus sighed, her wings fluttering slightly. “We must remember that Rex Lapis believed in guiding and protecting the people, not in ruling them with an iron fist. His death does not give us the right to abandon his teachings.”

Another Adeptus, an elderly deer with antlers that shimmered like gold, finally spoke, his voice heavy with age and wisdom. “We must decide our course of action wisely. A rash decision could lead to the very destruction Rex Lapis sought to prevent. We must gather more information before we act.”

The tension among the Adepti grew even more palpable as the conversation continued. The werewolf Adeptus, known as Feng, stood tall with his fur bristling and his golden eyes gleaming with a mixture of anger and resolve. His voice carried the weight of his convictions as he addressed the gathering.

“We already have the information we need, Moon Carver,” Feng growled, his eyes cutting through the darkness that surrounded them. “The Liyue Qixing stabbed the Geo Archon in the back. Absolutely shameful! With Rex Lapis gone, what’s stopping them from coming for our throats next?”

Adeptus Tang Zhi, the lion Adeptus, nodded in agreement, his fierce gaze sweeping over the others. “One totally agrees with Adeptus Feng. One says we go there and crush the Liyue Qixing. They have overstepped their bounds, and it is time they paid the price.”

Cloud Retainer, the crane Adeptus, remained composed despite the fiery tempers around her. Her calm demeanor contrasted sharply with the fury of Feng and Tang Zhi. “What about the humans, Tang Zhi?” she asked, her voice measured and thoughtful. “One does not believe the Liyue Qixing would consult with mere farmers or commoners on such a grave decision. This treachery, if true, may not reflect the will of all humanity.”

Tang Zhi’s eyes narrowed, his anger tempered but not extinguished. “One takes back the idea of punishing all humans,” he conceded, his gaze flickering towards Shenhe, who stood silently behind Cloud Retainer. Her presence was a reminder that not all humans were to be blamed, though Tang Zhi had always regarded her as little more than a pet of Cloud Retainer, a human molded by an Adeptus.

“But the Liyue Qixing must suffer for their crime,” Tang Zhi added, his voice hardening again. “They were entrusted with the care of this land, and they have betrayed that trust in the worst way possible.”

Cloud Retainer observed the shifting emotions among the gathered Adepti, her mind working to find a path forward that would not lead to unnecessary bloodshed. “One understands your anger, Tang Zhi,” she said. “But one must also caution against hasty action. If we are to confront the Liyue Qixing, we must do so with clear evidence and with a plan that does not plunge all of Liyue into chaos.”

Moon Carver, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, his voice steady and wise. “If we act without proof, without understanding the full scope of what has happened, we risk becoming the very thing Rex Lapis strove to protect against—forces of destruction, rather than guardians.”

Feng growled lowly, his claws flexing in frustration. “And what would you have us do, Moon Carver? Sit idly by while those responsible for this treachery go unpunished? Rex Lapis was our leader, our guide! To let his death go unanswered is a betrayal of everything he stood for.”

“No,” Moon Carver replied. “We must investigate, gather the truth, and then decide on our course of action. Only then can we ensure that our actions are just and in line with Rex Lapis’s teachings.”

Gu Yang, the tall monkey Adeptus, stood up, his voice rising above the murmurs of the gathering. “Rex Lapis is dead!” he declared, his tone carrying a mix of sorrow and defiance. “That means there are no more contracts to be fulfilled. This applies to us too… Some of you may not be in favor of punishing the Liyue Qixing, but some of us are… Does that mean you’re going to stop us from bringing justice?”

His words hung in the air like a challenge, a stark reminder that without Rex Lapis, the bonds that had once united the Adepti were fraying. The idea that the contracts, the very foundation of their duties, were now void, sent a ripple of unease through the assembly.

Moon Carver, ever the voice of caution, stepped forward, his expression calm but firm. “All one is saying, Gu Yang, is that we are being too rash!” His voice was measured, but there was an underlying urgency in his words.

“Rash we must be!” Xiao's voice cut through the air like a blade, his expression dark and determined.

The arrival of Xiao, the Conqueror of Demons, sent a ripple of surprise through the gathered Adepti. His presence alone was enough to command attention, but the words he spoke carried a weight that none could ignore.

Moon Carver's eyes widened in surprise. “Conqueror of Demons?” He had not expected Xiao to appear, much less to support the call for war. If even Xiao, known for his solitary and stoic nature, was advocating for immediate action, it spoke volumes about the severity of the situation.

Xiao stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he addressed the assembly. “I strongly believe I know who is responsible for the death of Rex Lapis.”

The air grew thick with tension as the other Adepti leaned in, their attention fully captured by Xiao's words. Feng, the werewolf Adeptus, could barely contain his impatience, his claws gleaming as he sharpened them against the stone. “Then spill it, Conqueror of Demons!” he growled, eager for a target to unleash his fury upon.

Xiao's gaze swept across the gathered Adepti, his expression grim. “A few days ago, I encountered an aura unlike any I’ve ever faced before. It was dark, malevolent, and filled with a power that I had never seen in any creature of this world. My duty compelled me to confront it, to purge whatever vile force it was. But the entity that wielded this aura was no ordinary monster. It was incredibly powerful, beyond anything I’ve fought before. I nearly lost my life.”

Gasps of shock rippled through the Adepti. For Xiao, the Conqueror of Demons—known for his unparalleled strength and his tireless dedication to protecting Liyue from malevolent forces—to admit that he had nearly been defeated was nothing short of astonishing.

“Woah!” The disbelief was evident in the voices of those gathered. Xiao’s admission carried with it an implication that chilled them to the core. If this creature was powerful enough to nearly kill Xiao, then it was a threat unlike any they had faced before.

Gu Yang, the monkey Adeptus, broke the silence with a question that had been on everyone's mind. "So, who won?"

Xiao's response was simple, yet the weight behind his words was palpable. "I lost…" His voice was low, but the fire in his eyes spoke volumes. Those eyes, usually so cold and detached, now burned with a mix of hatred and a thirst for vengeance.

Tang Zhi, the Lion Adeptus, was the first to voice the implications of Xiao's statement. "So, you believe that such a monster has killed Rex Lapis?"

Xiao's gaze sharpened, and his fists clenched as he spoke. "That creature was a demon god! I have no idea where it came from or what its purpose is in Liyue, but with the power it wields, it could stand against Rex Lapis himself. That's why I believe this monster is somehow linked to the death of the Geo Archon."

The Adepti were stunned. A demon god, rivaling Rex Lapis in power, roaming free in Liyue? The thought was terrifying. Tang Zhi, always quick to action, was already envisioning the battle to come. "Then we must destroy it before it causes more harm! We cannot allow such a being to exist!"

Feng, the werewolf Adeptus, growled in agreement. "If this demon god is responsible, it must be hunted down and obliterated. No hesitation!"

But Cloud Retainer, always the voice of reason, cautioned against acting too hastily. "This is not a foe to be underestimated. If Xiao, with all his strength, was defeated, then we must tread carefully. We cannot afford to lose more lives in a reckless assault."

“Did the Liyue Qixing make a contract with this demon god?” asked the serpent Adeptus.

The question from the serpent Adeptus hung heavily in the air, casting a shadow of doubt and suspicion among the gathered Adepti. The notion that the Liyue Qixing, the governing body of Liyue, might have made a contract with a demon god was almost unthinkable—but in the absence of Rex Lapis, the protector of contracts, such dark possibilities suddenly seemed plausible.

The Adepti fell silent, their expressions inscrutable. Though they had been quick to shift blame onto the Liyue Qixing at any opportunity, the possibility of such a contract could not be entirely dismissed.

Tang Zhi, the Lion Adeptus, was the first to break the silence. "It wouldn’t surprise me. The Liyue Qixing has always sought more power, and more control. They’ve moved away from the old ways, from the traditions that Rex Lapis set forth. A contract with a demon god might seem like a shortcut to them—a way to ensure their dominance."

"But would they truly be so reckless?" Moon Carver questioned, his tone heavy with doubt. "Making a contract with a demon god is not something done lightly. The Liyue Qixing are cunning, but they are not fools. They must know the dangers."

Cloud Retainer, always the voice of reason, interjected. "One must consider all possibilities, but one must also be wary of unfounded accusations. The Qixing have their faults, but to suggest they would ally with such a malevolent force is to tread on dangerous ground. We must seek the truth, not assumptions."

Xiao, still seething from his own encounter with the demon god, narrowed his eyes. "Whether or not they made a contract is irrelevant at this moment. The fact remains that this demon god is a threat to all of Liyue, humans, and Adeptus alike. If the Qixing are involved, they will answer for it. But right now, our priority is to find and eliminate this threat."

The assembly was divided. Some Adepti were ready to believe the worst of the Liyue Qixing, while others, like Cloud Retainer, urged caution and a more measured approach. The conversation had stirred up old fears and suspicions, but it had also highlighted the urgent need for unity in the face of this new threat.

Gu Yang, the monkey Adeptus, finally spoke, attempting to bring the discussion back to a productive course. "Whether or not the Qixing are involved, we need to prepare for battle. Xiao, you must lead us to this demon god. If the Qixing are guilty, their time will come, but right now, we must focus on the immediate threat."

The Adepti, though still uneasy, nodded in agreement. The truth of the matter would reveal itself in time, but for now, they needed to be ready. The demon god that Xiao had encountered was unlike any foe they had faced before, and it would take all their combined strength and wisdom to protect Liyue from the chaos that threatened to engulf it.

Chapter Text

Momon had set aside the mission of locating Aether and Paimon, confident that the Millelith were no longer pursuing them and that they were safely hidden somewhere in the city.

He now sat at a table with Ningguang, Keqing, and an elderly man known as Uncle Tian. Ganyu was there as well, along with Ningguang's servants, and to his surprise, Yelan had also joined the gathering.

All eyes were on Momon, their expressions tense and filled with alarm. The Honorary Knight from Mondstadt had just confirmed what many had dismissed as outrageous rumors—the Dark Warrior, Momon, was indeed an extraordinarily powerful individual.

Keqing's voice carried a tense undertone as she addressed the table, her eyes focused on Momon. "The situation is dire, and the citizens are growing more and more desperate to know if Rex Lapis is truly dead. We are doing everything we can to uncover who is responsible for this crime, but the pressure is mounting."

Momon leaned back slightly, his masked face unreadable. "You think the citizens will stay calm once they hear the truth?"

Ningguang, her expression composed but serious, answered, "The truth will be a double-edged sword. If we reveal that Rex Lapis has fallen, the city might spiral into chaos. But withholding the truth for too long will only breed distrust and panic. We must be strategic in our approach."

"May I speak?" Yelan asked, her voice sharp. Ningguang gave a nod of approval. "Momon..."

Momon could sense the disdain in Yelan’s gaze and had a feeling he knew where this was headed.

"It seems trouble follows you wherever you go... First at Dihua Marsh, where you nearly killed Adeptus Xiao, and now here in Liyue Harbor. I need to know—did you eliminate a team of ten men at Wangshu Inn?" Yelan's voice was steady, but there was an edge to her words.

Momon leaned back slightly. "Hmm... Ah, those men. Yes, that was me."

"Why?" Yelan pressed, her tone hardening.

"Before my encounter with that Adeptus, some Treasure Hoarders tried to rob us, so we dealt with them. Later, at Wangshu Inn, I noticed we were being followed and assumed they had come back for revenge, so I... took care of them," Momon explained nonchalantly.

Yelan's anger flared. She had been observing all night, yet somehow, he had obliterated her team without her even noticing. How is that possible? she fumed inwardly.

Yelan's eyes narrowed as she processed Momon's admission. Her fists clenched beneath the table, the frustration and anger evident on her face. "You obliterated my team without so much as a second thought," she said, her voice taut with restrained fury. "And you did it without even confirming who they were."

Momon's expression remained calm, but his tone carried a hint of indifference. "I acted based on the information I had at the time. They were following us, and given the situation, I took action. If they were truly your men, then that's unfortunate."

Ningguang, observing the exchange, interjected to diffuse the tension. “Yelan, it’s clear that Momon’s capabilities are far beyond ordinary. While we need to address these incidents, we must also focus on the larger threat facing Liyue. Our immediate concern should be the stability of the city and how we address the situation with Rex Lapis.”

Ganyu, still processing the information, nodded in agreement. “Indeed. We must find a way to handle both the unrest among the citizens and the potential conflict with the Adepti. This is not the time for internal disputes.”

Yelan glanced at Ningguang, then back at Momon. "Next time, there won't be any misunderstandings," she said, her voice low but carrying a clear warning.

Uncle Tian's voice cut through the tense atmosphere in the room. His eyes, though old and tired, held a sharp curiosity as he addressed Momon.

“I wanted to ask the Honorary Knight…” Uncle Tian began, his gaze steady. “How do you personally explain the situation with the death of Rex Lapis?”

Momon, seated at the table surrounded by Liyue’s most influential figures, took a moment to gather his thoughts. His expression was calm, but his eyes hinted at a deeper understanding of the complexities involved.

“Well,” Momon started, leaning slightly forward, “in my opinion, there are a few possibilities regarding the death of Rex Lapis. First, it could be the work of a powerful enemy. Given the level of strength required to overcome an Archon, it’s reasonable to suspect that someone with immense power is behind this.”

The room fell silent as the gravity of this possibility sank in. Ningguang's brow furrowed, and Keqing exchanged a worried glance with Ganyu. The notion that an enemy of such magnitude could be lurking among them was a sobering thought.

“Second,” Momon continued, “there is the possibility that Rex Lapis himself chose to end his reign. He is, after all, one of the oldest gods. Such a decision, while seemingly absurd, could be his way of relinquishing control, perhaps as a form of self-imposed retirement or transcendence.”

A murmur of surprise rippled through the room. The idea that an Archon might simply step away from their duties was an unsettling concept, challenging their understanding of divine beings and their roles in their domains.

“And third,” Momon said, pausing for emphasis, “this could be some sort of test.

The room fell into a contemplative silence. Ningguang’s eyes widened with realization, while Keqing’s expression shifted from concern to thoughtful consideration. Ganyu’s usually serene demeanor was clouded with uncertainty.

“Test?” Uncle Tian echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief. “A trial for the people?”

Momon continued, “Yes, a test. From my perspective, it’s possible that Rex Lapis’s death might be a trial or a challenge, something set in motion to evaluate the strength and resilience of Liyue, or even humanity as a whole. It’s possible that his death was orchestrated as a trial for the people of Liyue—a way to see how they would handle such a crisis and whether they could stand on their own without his direct influence.”

Ningguang’s brows furrowed as she considered this. “A test by whom? And for what purpose?”

“That,” Momon replied, “I can’t say for sure. It could be a divine test or something orchestrated by forces beyond our understanding. It might be a way to ensure that those who are meant to lead are truly worthy.”

Keqing crossed her arms, clearly skeptical. “And if this is indeed a test, what are we supposed to do? How do we pass it?”

Momon’s eyes shifted to Keqing. “To pass any test, one must demonstrate strength, wisdom, and the ability to adapt. Your leadership will be crucial in guiding Liyue through this turmoil. Showing resilience in the face of adversity and making decisions that benefit the people while maintaining stability will be key.”

Ganyu, still deep in thought, added, “But if it’s a test, does it mean that the outcome is predetermined or influenced by those who set it in motion? And how do we know what they are looking for?”

Momon shrugged slightly. “That’s the challenge of such tests. Often, the purpose is not just about the end result but about how one responds to the journey. It’s about proving oneself through actions and decisions rather than having a clear, defined path.”

Uncle Tian stroked his beard thoughtfully, his gaze never leaving Momon. “Your perspective is… intriguing, Momon. It offers a different lens through which to view this situation. We will need to consider all possible angles as we move forward.”

Momon leaned back slightly, his eyes scanning the faces around the table. The atmosphere was thick with unease, but his voice remained calm and measured as he spoke.

“That’s just my opinion, sir,” Momon said, addressing Uncle Tian and the rest of the Liyue Qixing. “His death might have an even deeper meaning than all the possibilities that I mentioned.”

Uncle Tian furrowed his brow, clearly deep in thought. The room was silent for a moment as everyone absorbed Momon’s words. The implications were unsettling; the death of a god-like Rex Lapis wasn’t something that could be easily explained, and the idea that it could be a test or something even more profound added another layer of complexity.

Keqing exchanged a glance with Ningguang, both of them considering the weight of Momon’s words. “A deeper meaning…” Keqing echoed, her voice thoughtful. “If that’s the case, then we need to be even more careful in how we proceed. The consequences of misunderstanding this event could be catastrophic.”

Ningguang nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. “Indeed. We must tread carefully and consider all possibilities. Thank you for sharing your thoughts, Momon. Your perspective is invaluable to us.”

Momon stood up from the table, his presence commanding attention even as he prepared to leave. His imposing figure cast a long shadow over the room, but his demeanor remained respectful and composed.

“I am happy to help,” Momon said, addressing Ningguang with a nod. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go look for my companions. They might be dead worried about the situation. If you need me, I’ll be in the city.”

Ningguang nodded her expression a mixture of gratitude and concern. “Of course, Momon. Thank you for your assistance and for sharing your thoughts with us. We’ll be in touch if we require further help. Please, take care of yourself and your companions.”

Ganyu, who had been silently observing, offered a faint, reassuring smile. “I hope you find your friends quickly and safely. If you need any assistance, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Momon paused in the doorway, his hand resting on the frame as a thought crossed his mind. “One more thing…” he said, turning back to face Ningguang and the others. “Was that dragon actually Rex Lapis? Sorry to ask this, but when I saw the Statue of the Seven, he had a human-looking form.”

Ningguang, who had been watching him leave, now straightened up slightly. “That form of Rex Lapis is called Exuvia,” she explained, her tone patient and informative. “But like many gods, he has the ability to take on various forms. The dragon you saw was indeed one of his forms—one that represents his true power as the Geo Archon.”

Momon nodded, absorbing the information. “I see… so gods can take multiple forms. That explains a lot.”

He hesitated for a moment before asking another question that had been nagging at him. “Have you buried his corpse?”

Ningguang shook her head gently, her expression serious. “Oh, no, no. We moved Exuvia to the Golden House. Until all of this is resolved and we’ve uncovered the truth, Exuvia will remain there under careful watch.”

Momon gave a final nod. “Thank you for the clarification, Ningguang. I’ll be on my way now.”

Momon acknowledged their words with a respectful bow before turning to leave the room. As he made his way out, the heavy door closing behind him, he was met with the bustling streets of Liyue Harbor. The city was abuzz with activity and concern, and Momon knew he had to navigate this chaos to find Aether and Paimon.

Stepping into the lively streets, he could see the distress and confusion etched on the faces of the citizens. The death of Rex Lapis had thrown Liyue into disarray, and tensions were running high. With a determined stride, Momon began his search, scanning the crowd for any sign of his missing companions.

Momon's footsteps echoed softly against the cobblestones as he approached the bustling port. The sight of the small, floating figure of Paimon caught his attention immediately. Her silver hair shimmered in the sunlight, unmistakable even from a distance. Next to her stood Aether, his blonde hair tousled by the sea breeze as he engaged in conversation with a tall, redheaded man.

The redhead noticed Momon approaching from a distance, his demeanor shifting slightly as he recognized the formidable presence. With a casual smile, he finished his conversation. "Well then, see ya!" the redheaded man said smoothly, his voice tinged with a hint of mischief as he waved off.

Paimon, still hovering beside Aether, waved cheerfully after the departing figure. "Bye, Childe!" she called out, her voice bright and chipper.

"Aether," Momon called out, his deep voice cutting through the ambient noise of the port. Both Aether and Paimon turned to the sound of his voice.

"Momon!" Paimon exclaimed, her eyes widening with relief and joy as she recognized him. She darted closer to him, her small form hovering at eye level. "We were so worried about you!"

Aether stepped forward, his eyes scanning Momon for any sign of injury or distress. "What happened after we got separated?" he asked, his voice steady but laced with concern. "We thought you might’ve run into some trouble."

Momon nodded, his gaze briefly shifting to the direction where Childe had vanished. "I had a... meeting with the Liyue Qixing," he said, choosing his words carefully. "They had some questions, but it's been resolved for now."

Paimon huffed, crossing her arms. “Those guards are so annoying! How could they think we had anything to do with that?”

“They were scared and desperate,” Momon replied calmly. “But what matters is that you’re both safe. We need to stay low for now. The Liyue Qixing is investigating the situation, but tensions are high.”

Aether nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. “We’ll keep a low profile. Did you learn anything else?”

Momon hesitated for a moment before speaking. “At the meeting with the Liyue Qixing. They confirmed that Rex Lapis’ body had been moved to the Golden House. It’s being guarded until they can determine what happened.”

“That’s good, right? At least they’re taking it seriously,” Paimon chimed in.

“Yes, but there’s more. The Adepti might not take the news of Rex Lapis’ death well. If they believe humans are responsible, it could lead to conflict,” Momon explained, his tone grim.

Paimon’s face paled at the thought, her usual cheerfulness replaced by worry. "Oh no, that would be terrible! Liyue would never be the same if a war broke out between the humans and the Adepti,"

Aether looked out over the harbor, the weight of the situation settling heavily on his shoulders. “We can’t let it come to that. There has to be a way to prevent a war.”

“You can’t,” a soft but firm voice spoke from behind them.

Momon, Aether, and Paimon turned swiftly to see who had spoken. Standing before them was a tall, strikingly beautiful woman with long, flowing silver hair. Her pale, iridescent eyes shimmered with a strange, otherworldly light, and her expression was as calm as the surface of a still lake.

“Who are you?” Paimon asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and caution.

“My name is Shenhe,” the woman replied, her tone serene. “I am an Adepti disciple.”

“Adepti disciple?” Momon repeated, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I thought all Adepti were some type of demons.”

“You are wrong,” Shenhe said simply, her gaze unwavering as she met Momon’s eyes. There was a quiet strength in her voice, one that hinted at both wisdom and power.

“Okay, okay, let’s not get into that right now,” Aether interjected, stepping between them to ease the tension. “What did you mean by ‘You can’t’?”

Shenhe hesitated for a moment, her gaze shifting away from them as if she were grappling with some internal struggle. “The Adepti... they are…” she began, but her words were abruptly cut off by the sound of her stomach growling loudly.

Paimon’s eyes widened in surprise. “Huh? You’re hungry?”

A faint blush tinged Shenhe’s pale cheeks, an almost imperceptible hint of embarrassment crossing her usually stoic expression. “It seems I am,” she admitted quietly.

Paimon giggled despite the seriousness of the situation. “Well, we can’t have a serious conversation on an empty stomach! Let’s grab something to eat, and then you can tell us what’s going on with the Adepti.”

Shenhe's voice was calm but firm as she listed off her usual meal: "Qinxin, Glaze Lily, Violetgrass. These are my usuals."

Paimon blinked in surprise, her small mouth forming a perfect "O" of confusion. "Aren’t those... medicinal herbs?" she asked, tilting her head as if the idea didn’t quite compute.

Shenhe looked at Paimon, her expression as serene as ever, but there was a flicker of curiosity in her pale, iridescent eyes. "Medicinal herbs?" she echoed, as if the term was unfamiliar or perhaps irrelevant to her. The concept of food as something other than sustenance seemed foreign to her, a reflection of her life away from the mundane pleasures of the human world.

Paimon floated closer, scratching her head in bewilderment. "Yeah, you know, the stuff they use to make medicine? Not exactly what you'd expect for lunch..." She trailed off, realizing that this might be another aspect of the Adepti's strange ways that she didn't fully understand.

Shenhe didn’t respond, her gaze distant as if she were contemplating something far beyond the conversation. The silence stretched for a moment before Paimon, never one to dwell too long on confusion, clapped her hands together as if a brilliant idea had struck her. "Anyway! Bubu Pharmacy’s not far from here, and they’ve got all sorts of herbs! Let’s take Shenhe there for a big medicinal meal!" Paimon suggested with renewed enthusiasm, already imagining Shenhe’s plate piled high with Glaze Lilies and Violetgrass.

Aether chuckled softly at Paimon’s excitement, though he glanced at Shenhe with a bit of concern. "Are you sure those are the only things you eat? Maybe we could get you something a little more... filling?"

Shenhe’s eyes flicked to Aether, her expression softening just a bit. "These herbs sustain me," she said simply as if that was all there was to it.

Momon, who had been silently observing, finally spoke up, his deep voice cutting through the air. "You’re an Adepti disciple, right? Do you not require anything more than these herbs to sustain yourself?" His tone was a mix of curiosity and something else—perhaps concern, or even a hint of skepticism.

Shenhe’s gaze met his, and for a moment, the two regarded each other in silence. "I have lived a different life from most," she replied enigmatically. "These herbs are enough for me."

Paimon, ever the optimist, took Shenhe’s hand (or at least tried to, given her size) and began leading her toward the pharmacy. "Well, if it works for you, it works for us! Come on, you’ll love Bubu Pharmacy—it’s full of all kinds of stuff!"

The redhead who Aether was speaking a moment ago was looking at the group from the roof of a building. "The Exuvia is being held at the Golden House, huh... Thank you, Momon, you made my job easier."

As they made their way through the bustling streets of Liyue Harbor, the crowd seemed to part for them, as if sensing the powerful presence in their midst. Momon remained deep in thought, still turning over Shenhe’s interrupted warning about the Adepti in his mind. Aether kept pace with Shenhe, his curiosity about her piqued further by the strange encounter.

When they finally reached Bubu Pharmacy, the familiar scent of herbs and medicine filled the air, and Paimon floated eagerly inside. "Let’s get you that big medicinal meal!" she chirped, her voice bright and welcoming. Shenhe followed, her steps light and graceful, but there was still that air of mystery surrounding her, as if she were carrying a burden known only to herself.

As they entered the pharmacy, Aether cast a glance at Shenhe, his expression soft with concern. "Maybe after you’ve eaten, you can tell us more about what you were going to say earlier. About the Adepti..." and Shenhe nodded.

As they stepped into Bubu Pharmacy, the warm, herbal aroma enveloped them, mingling with the scent of freshly prepared remedies. The interior was a harmonious blend of traditional Liyue architecture and the modern functionality of an apothecary, shelves lined with jars of dried herbs, roots, and various elixirs.

A tall man with glasses and a kind, almost serene demeanor greeted them. His presence was calm, exuding a gentle authority that fit perfectly with the tranquil atmosphere of the pharmacy. "Welcome to Bubu Pharmacy!" he said, his voice smooth and reassuring. Beside him stood a small girl with blue hair, a talisman affixed to her forehead, her eyes half-lidded in a perpetual state of sleepiness.

Momon’s gaze fell on the little girl, and he felt a slight jolt of surprise ripple through him. His sharp, undead senses recognized immediately what she was—a zombie. The talisman on her forehead was unmistakably the mark of the undead, though she seemed to move and act with a kind of life that was different from the other zombies he had encountered in the past. It wasn’t often that he encountered another being who shared a connection to death, and for a moment, he found himself intrigued.

"Hello, sir! We’d like to order some Qinxin, Glaze Lily, and Violetgrass," Paimon announced cheerfully, her voice cutting through Momon’s thoughts.

The man with the glasses, whom Paimon assumed to be the owner of the pharmacy, smiled warmly at them. "Of course," he replied with a nod. "Qiqi, could you please fetch those for our guests?"

The little girl, whom he had addressed as Qiqi, nodded obediently, her movements almost robotic but with a certain gentleness that belied her nature. "Yes, Doctor Baizhu," she said in a soft, monotone voice, before turning to gather the requested herbs.

As Qiqi moved off to retrieve the herbs, Paimon floated closer to Baizhu, her curiosity piqued by the unusual duo. "Are you Qiqi’s guardian?" she asked, her eyes wide with innocent interest.

Baizhu chuckled softly, adjusting his glasses. "In a manner of speaking, yes. Qiqi is under my care here at Bubu Pharmacy. She’s quite a capable assistant, despite her condition."

Momon, who had remained silent until now, studied Baizhu with a critical eye. The man seemed harmless enough, but his calm demeanor and the way he interacted with the undead girl spoke of someone with a deep understanding of life and death. "She’s a zombie," Momon stated plainly, his tone neutral but with an underlying hint of curiosity.

Baizhu nodded, his expression not wavering in the slightest. "Indeed she is. Qiqi was revived through the power of an Adeptus a long time ago and now assists me here. She may be different, but she is a cherished part of our little pharmacy. Baizhu's eyes gleamed with a hint of intrigue as he regarded Momon. "You seem to possess quite a bit of knowledge yourself, especially to recognize Qiqi's condition so quickly," he remarked.

Momon gave a slight nod, his gaze drifting to Qiqi, who stood quietly by Baizhu's side. "Yeah, I do," he replied, his voice steady but carrying a weight of experience. "But the zombies I know aren't anything like her. They're not friendly—they're mindless, relentless, and will tear your face off the moment they catch a whiff of you."

Baizhu chuckled softly, though his expression remained thoughtful. "Qiqi's resurrection was a result of a very specific and powerful talisman. It grants her a semblance of life, but she retains a degree of her humanity, which is why she can function as she does. But about the other zombies you are talking about... that's scary."

Momon raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "A talisman, huh? That's impressive work, to bring back someone with enough of themselves intact to still be... well, themselves."

Before the conversation could continue, Qiqi returned, holding a small basket filled with the requested herbs. "Qinxin, Glaze Lily, Violetgrass," she recited in her usual monotone, presenting the basket to Shenhe.

"Thank you," Shenhe said, her voice as calm and measured as ever. She took the basket from Qiqi, her pale fingers brushing against the zombie’s small hand briefly.

Baizhu gave them a polite nod. "If there’s anything else you require, please don’t hesitate to ask. Bubu Pharmacy is always here to serve."

Momon glanced at the basket of herbs, then back at Shenhe, who seemed content with the selection. "I hope this is enough to satisfy you," he said, his voice carrying a trace of dry humor.

Shenhe nodded slightly. "These will do," she replied, her eyes distant, as if still occupied with thoughts far removed from the present moment.

As they prepared to leave the pharmacy, Aether turned to Baizhu and Qiqi, offering a grateful smile. "Thanks for the help. We’ll be on our way now."

Baizhu nodded in return, his expression as serene as ever. "Take care. And if you need anything more, you know where to find us."

With that, the conversation drew to a close, and the group made their way out of Bubu Pharmacy.

Shenhe finished off her meal of medicinal herbs, her delicate fingers wiping away the last traces of the glistening green essence. She looked both relieved and ready to continue their conversation. The dim light of Bubu Pharmacy cast a warm glow on her silver hair, accentuating the intensity in her pale eyes.

“Alright, Shenhe, what was that you wanted to tell us?” Aether asked, leaning forward with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Yes,” Shenhe began, her voice steady and measured, “the Adepti have learned about the death of Rex Lapis. They believe that the one responsible is either the Liyue Qixing or the Demon God who nearly killed Adeptus Xiao.”

Aether and Paimon exchanged worried glances. Momon’s encounter with Xiao was not unknown to them, and they could see the gravity of the situation unfolding before them.

“Momon, I think you’ve put yourself into some trouble,” Aether said, his tone tinged with concern.

Shenhe’s gaze shifted to Momon, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re the Demon God they speak of?”

Momon shook his head firmly, his expression serious. “No, I am not a demon, nor did I kill Rex Lapis. We all witnessed how his corpse fell from the sky during the Rite of Descension. It was clear to everyone present.”

Shenhe studied Momon’s face, searching for any hint of deceit. Her brows furrowed in thought. “If you’re not responsible, then who is?” she asked, her tone edged with frustration and urgency.

“How the hell should we know that?” Momon snapped, his voice sharp and filled with urgency. “We are not from Liyue, and you should know better who the enemies of the Geo Archon are—those who would want him dead.”

Shenhe's expression softened as she took a step back, her gaze lowering in a gesture of apology. “Forgive me,” she said softly, her tone sincere despite the harshness of the conversation.

Momon's shoulders relaxed slightly as he noticed the genuine remorse in Shenhe’s voice. He sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration. “It’s fine,” he said, his tone softening. “Sorry for raising my tone. This situation is just... overwhelming.”

Shenhe nodded appreciatively, understanding the gravity of the situation. “My master, Cloud Retainer, has sent me to Liyue Harbor to inform the Qixing that the Adepti are preparing to take action against them,” she said, her voice steady despite the dire news she was delivering.

Aether, who had been listening intently, exchanged a worried glance with Paimon. “So, the Adepti are serious about this,” he said, his voice tinged with concern. “They’re actually planning to come here and destroy the Liyue Qixing?”

Shenhe nodded solemnly. “Yes. The Adepti believe that the Liyue Qixing is responsible for the death of Rex Lapis, and they preparing for potential conflict. My master has tasked me with delivering this message so that the Qixing can prepare and hopefully find a way to prevent such an outcome.”

Paimon hovered closer, her expression troubled. “But if the Adepti come here to attack, won’t that just make everything worse? Liyue will be in chaos, and everyone will suffer.”

Momon glanced at Aether with a wry smile under his mask. “Guess it’s up to us again, just like in Mondstadt, huh?”

Aether nodded, his expression resolute but tinged with concern. “It looks like it. We can’t let the Adepti destroy everything without trying to find a solution first.”

Paimon, floating a little higher in agitation, looked between the two with wide, worried eyes. “Wait… You want to go up against the Adepti?!” Her voice was a high-pitched mix of fear and disbelief. “That sounds really dangerous! I don’t want to fight them!”

“If there’s no other choice…” Aether’s voice was firm, his resolve clear. “We might have to face them. The conflict seems unavoidable if the Adepti decide to act.”

Paimon’s small frame trembled slightly as she hovered closer to Aether. “But… fighting the Adepti? Isn’t there any other way?”

Momon’s gaze was fixed ahead, his thoughts weighing heavily. He turned to Shenhe, who had been quietly listening to the conversation. “Miss Shenhe,” he began, his tone shifting to a more tactical edge, “in the ranks of the Adepti, who is the strongest among them?”

Shenhe hesitated for a moment, clearly torn by the gravity of the information she was about to reveal. But the urgency of the situation made her decision clear. “It’s Adeptus Xiao,” she said, her voice steady but filled with a hint of unease. “He is one of the most powerful Adepti.”

Momon’s eyes sparkled with a hint of amusement. “Is that so…” he murmured, a smirk forming under his mask. The thought of facing Xiao again was something that seemed to amuse him because he let him live once but this time there wont be a second chance.

Aether and Paimon exchanged glances, their faces reflecting their shared concern. Paimon’s eyes were wide, her fear evident.

Chapter Text

It was midday in Liyue Harbor, and the city was alive with the usual hustle and bustle. Merchants called out their wares, fishermen hauled in their catches, and the sound of ships docking and departing filled the air. The scent of freshly cooked street food wafted through the market, mingling with the salty breeze from the sea. Everything seemed ordinary, just another day in the thriving port city.

But then, without warning, a cool, strong wind surged through the harbor, its intensity far beyond the usual sea breeze. The sudden gusts caught everyone off guard, sending hats flying and market stalls shaking. Banners flapped violently, and loose items were tossed into the air as the wind roared through the streets.

Citizens, initially confused, quickly realized that this was no ordinary weather. Panic set in as the wind grew stronger, pushing people off balance and causing crates and barrels to topple. Traders scrambled to secure their goods, while others sought shelter from the gale, rushing into nearby shops and alleys.

“What’s happening?” a merchant shouted, struggling to keep his stall from collapsing under the force of the wind.

“It’s too strong! Everyone, take cover!” another voice called out, echoing the rising fear.

Children cried as they clung to their parents, who were doing their best to shield them from the debris flying through the air. The once vibrant and lively harbor had descended into chaos, the usual sounds of commerce replaced by the howling wind and the shouts of frightened citizens.

In the midst of the turmoil, Momon, Aether, and Paimon found themselves near the docks, watching as the peaceful day turned into a scene of disorder. Paimon struggled to keep herself steady in the air, her small wings fluttering desperately against the powerful gusts.

“This wind… it’s not natural!” Paimon exclaimed, her voice barely audible over the noise.

Aether shielded his eyes from the dust and debris being kicked up, scanning the area for the source of the disturbance. “Something’s causing this,” he said, his tone urgent. “We need to find out what’s going on.”

Momon’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed the scene, his senses on high alert. “This is more than just a strong breeze,” he muttered, the cool wind whipping at his cloak. “It feels like… a warning.”

From the towering cliffs surrounding Liyue Harbor, an ominous sight began to unfold. Strange, ethereal creatures materialized, their forms shimmering in the sunlight as they emerged from the mist-covered peaks. Some were massive beasts, their bodies resembling mythical animals with glowing eyes and powerful limbs, while others were spectral beings that floated effortlessly through the air, leaving trails of luminescent light in their wake.

The citizens of Liyue Harbor, already reeling from the sudden winds, now faced an even greater terror. As the creatures descended from the cliffs, panic rippled through the city. The marketplace, once bustling with life, fell silent as people stared in horror at the approaching army.

High above the city, several of the creatures took to the skies, their wings beating with an eerie grace as they flew in formation. They were led by majestic, otherworldly beings—members of the Adepti—who exuded an aura of ancient power. Their eyes, filled with the resolve of millennia, scanned the city below, their expressions stern and unyielding.

The ground trembled as the land-based creatures advanced, their footsteps echoing through the streets. These were the subordinates of the Adepti, loyal and fierce, bound to carry out their masters' will. They moved with purpose, their presence a clear declaration: Liyue was no longer safe, and the Adepti had come to claim what they believed was rightfully theirs.

Among the Adepti leading the charge was Tang Zhi, the lion-like Adeptus, his golden mane glowing with a fierce light. Beside him walked Feng, the werewolf Adeptus, his sharp claws gleaming as he prepared for the battle ahead. Above them, Cloud Retainer soared gracefully, her feathers glinting in the sunlight, while Gu Yang, the monkey Adeptus, leaped from rooftop to rooftop, surveying the city with sharp eyes.

As the Adepti army spread throughout Liyue Harbor, the people of the city could do nothing but watch in terror. The harbor, once a symbol of prosperity and peace, now faced the wrath of the very beings who had protected it for centuries.

“What are we going to do? There are so many of them!” Paimon’s voice was filled with terror, her eyes darting frantically as she took in the sight of the overwhelming army descending upon Liyue Harbor.

Aether, usually calm under pressure, felt a knot of anxiety tighten in his chest. The Adepti forces seemed endless, their sheer numbers a testament to the ancient power they commanded. He knew that rushing into battle against such overwhelming odds would be reckless, if not suicidal.

Momon, who had been assessing the situation with a cold, calculating gaze, made a swift decision. “Aether, let’s not engage them head-on right now. We need to hide and assess the situation. We’ll find a better opportunity to act.”

Aether nodded, understanding the wisdom in Momon’s words. They couldn’t afford to be seen or caught in the midst of the invasion. “Right. Let’s go.”

“Follow me,” Momon instructed, his voice steady despite the chaos around them.

Without hesitation, Aether and Paimon fell in step behind Momon as he led them through the narrow alleys and winding streets of the city. The sounds of the invasion—cries of panic from the citizens, the heavy footsteps of the Adepti creatures, and the distant roar of the wind—echoed through the air, growing louder with each passing moment.

The Adepti moved with an aura of ancient authority, their presence commanding the very air around them. As they leaped atop buildings or soared through the sky, their forms cast long shadows over the city of Liyue. The citizens below could only watch in awe and fear as these mythical beings, long revered and respected, descended upon Yujing Terrace with an intent that was unmistakably dire.

At the center of Yujing Terrace stood Ningguang, her expression unyielding, radiating a calm yet fierce determination. Beside her, Keqing, Ganyu, and Uncle Tian stood resolute, their faces betraying the tension they all felt. Behind them, the Millelith, Liyue's brave defenders, formed ranks, their weapons drawn, though their hands trembled slightly at the sight of the formidable foes before them.

The ground trembled as the Adepti landed, their presence alone shaking the very foundations of the terrace. Tang Zhi, his imposing lion-like form bristling with barely contained fury, snarled as his massive paws touched down. Beside him, the lithe and deadly Feng flexed his sharp claws, his eyes narrowed in a cold glare. Gu Yang, towering and powerful, let out a low growl, his gaze locked onto the Liyue Qixing with a mixture of disdain and wrath.

Xiao, the Conqueror of Demons, stood slightly apart from the others, his polearm ready at his side, his eyes glowing with a dangerous light. Cloud Retainer hovered above the group, her wings spread wide as she gazed down imperiously at the assembly before her. Moon Carver and Mountain Shaper flanked the group, their expressions stern and unreadable, embodying the ancient, stoic power of the Adepti.

For a moment, there was only silence, the tension between the two groups palpable, like the calm before a storm.

Ningguang stepped forward, her voice clear and unwavering. “Adepti, we stand here not as enemies, but as protectors of Liyue. We all wish to safeguard this land. Let us not be hasty in turning our swords against each other.”

Tang Zhi’s voice boomed across the terrace, his fury barely restrained. “Protectors? You, who may have betrayed Rex Lapis, dare to speak of protection? Your words are hollow, Ningguang. We are here to exact justice!”

Feng’s claws scraped against the stone, a sharp, grating sound that sent shivers down the spines of the Millelith. “The death of Rex Lapis will not go unanswered. We have come to purge the corruption within Liyue.”

Keqing’s eyes flashed with determination. “We would never harm Rex Lapis! We are working tirelessly to find the true culprit, but a civil war will only destroy what he loved and protected.”

Gu Yang’s laughter was dark and menacing. “Civil war? No, this is a cleansing. Liyue must be purified of those who would betray their own god.”

Xiao remained silent, his gaze focused, yet distant. His thoughts were conflicted, torn between his duty as an Adeptus and the strange, powerful figure he had encountered recently—Momon. The memory of their battle haunted him, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more at play here than anyone understood.

Cloud Retainer finally spoke, her voice carrying the weight of centuries. “This is not a matter of words, Ningguang. The time for diplomacy has passed. We must act, for the balance of this land hangs in jeopardy.”

The atmosphere grew more charged with every passing second, the tension thickening like a storm cloud ready to burst. The Millelith tightened their grips on their weapons, knowing they faced not just any enemy, but the very beings they had revered as protectors and guardians of Liyue.

Ningguang’s expression hardened, but she kept her composure. “If you believe we are at fault, then present your evidence. We are not your enemies, and we still have a chance to find the true culprit together.”

Mountain Shaper’s deep voice rumbled, “Evidence will be found in the aftermath of your defeat, Ningguang. Stand aside, or face the consequences.”

Gu Yang's voice echoed across Yujing Terrace, dripping with contempt as he demanded, “Where is the Demon God?”

Ningguang’s eyes narrowed in confusion as she glanced toward the towering, monkey-like Adeptus. “Demon God?” she repeated, her voice steady but laced with uncertainty. “I’m not sure what you mean, Adeptus Gu Yang. Who are you referring to?”

Gu Yang’s eyes flared with impatience, his muscles tensing as he glared down at her. “You know well who one is talking about, human,” he spat, the word 'human' tinged with disdain. “The creature who fought the Conqueror of Demons. Where is he?!”

Ningguang's mind raced as the implications of his words sank in. “The creature who fought Xiao?” She quickly connected the dots, her expression shifting from confusion to shock. “Are they talking about Momon?” The realization hit her like a bolt of lightning. Momon is also their target?

She glanced sideways at Keqing and Ganyu, seeing the same realization dawn in their eyes. The situation was even more dangerous than they had anticipated. If the Adepti believed Momon to be some sort of Demon God, then they might see his presence as a direct threat to Liyue, one that needed to be eradicated alongside the Liyue Qixing.

Ningguang took a deep breath, maintaining her composure despite the turmoil inside. “Momon is not a Demon God,” she said firmly, her voice carrying an edge of authority. “He is an ally from Mondstadt, a powerful warrior, yes, but he is not the enemy here. The real threat lies elsewhere, and if we continue to fight among ourselves, we will never find it.”

Gu Yang’s growl reverberated through the terrace, his skepticism evident. “Do not deceive us, Ningguang. The Conqueror of Demons would not fight alongside an ally of Liyue unless he sensed a great evil within him.”

Feng, the lithe and deadly Adeptus, stepped forward, his voice sharp. “Enough words. We demand the location of this so-called ally. We shall see for ourselves if he is truly as harmless as you claim.”

Ningguang knew that the situation was precarious. Revealing Momon's location could lead to a confrontation, they might not survive, but withholding it might only deepen the Adepti’s suspicions. She had to choose her words carefully, to buy time if nothing else.

“Momon is within the city,” Ningguang admitted, her tone cautious. “But I implore you, let us seek the truth together. If you confront him with hostility, it will only lead to more bloodshed, and that is not what Rex Lapis would have wanted.”

Gu Yang’s eyes blazed with fury. “Rex Lapis is dead because of your kind’s betrayal! If this Momon stands with you, then he is no different. We will find him, and if he is indeed a Demon God, we will destroy him.”

Keqing stepped forward, her sword at the ready, her voice fierce. “You will not touch him! Momon has done nothing to warrant your wrath. If you wish to fight, then you will have to go through us first.”

The tension reached a boiling point as the Adepti bristled at Keqing's defiance. The Millelith readied their weapons, prepared to defend their leaders with their lives. The air crackled with the promise of violence, and it seemed that a clash was inevitable.

Chaos had erupted throughout Liyue Harbor. The once-bustling city, filled with the sounds of trade and daily life, had been transformed into a battlefield in mere moments. The citizens, who had only just been going about their day, now ran for cover, their faces stricken with fear as strange and powerful beings descended upon their home.

The Adepti had unleashed their subordinates, and they swarmed the city with overwhelming force. These creatures, a mix of mystical beasts and elemental warriors, moved with terrifying precision. They blocked streets, overran marketplaces, and stormed the docks, leaving no corner of the city untouched by their presence.

In their desperation, the Millelith had rallied to defend their people. Brave soldiers armed with spears and shields formed defensive lines, hoping to repel the invaders. But despite their courage, they were woefully outmatched. The power of the Adepti was unlike anything they had ever faced.

One by one, the Millelith fell. Their weapons, forged to defend against mortal threats, were useless against the divine might of the Adepti. A single swing of an Adeptus’ weapon sent soldiers flying, crashing through walls or skidding across the ground. Elemental blasts tore through their ranks, leaving trails of destruction in their wake.

In the heart of the chaos, two young figures stood resolute, their faces etched with determination. Chongyun and Xingqiu, though still young, had risen to the occasion, defending a group of frightened civilians with unwavering bravery. The Adepti were everywhere, their formidable presence causing panic and destruction throughout Liyue Harbor.

Chongyun, with his icy blue hair and steely gaze, gripped his claymore tightly. His breath came out in frosty puffs, and the air around him crackled with the chill of his Cryo vision. Beside him, Xingqiu, wearing his signature blue attire, held a sword with practiced ease, the Water elements swirling around him in a protective aura. The two stood back-to-back, their stances firm as they faced the threat before them.

The Adeptus they faced was a tall, menacing coyote-like creature, its fur bristling with raw power. Its yellow eyes glowed with a predatory gleam, and its sharp claws glinted menacingly in the dim light of the city. The creature's snarl echoed through the streets as it towered over them, its voice a guttural growl that sent shivers through the crowd of civilians huddled behind the boys.

“I’ll rip your skin off if you stand against me, blood bags!” the coyote Adeptus threatened, its voice dripping with malice.

Chongyun's eyes narrowed. “You’ll have to go through us first!” he shouted back, his voice firm and unwavering.

Xingqiu stepped forward, his expression focused. “We won’t let you harm these people. We are the guardians of Liyue, and we will protect them at all costs.”

The coyote Adeptus laughed, a harsh, grating sound that filled the air. “Guardians? Mere children playing at heroism. Your efforts are futile.”

The coyote Adeptus, though powerful, was suddenly caught off guard by a new, unforeseen threat. A sharp, glinting blade sliced through the air with deadly precision, piercing the Adeptus’ heart in a flash of steel. The coyote Adeptus let out a strangled cry, its fierce yellow eyes widening in shock and pain. It staggered back, its strength waning rapidly as it struggled to comprehend the sudden turn of events.

Turning with a final, agonized effort, the Adeptus's gaze fell upon the mysterious figure who had delivered the fatal blow. Cloaked in shadows, the figure stood poised and silent, a mask covering their face, rendering their identity unknown. The mask was intricately designed, its features obscured in an air of enigmatic mystery. The eyes of the mask were dark and piercing, giving nothing away of the figure's intentions or emotions.

Chongyun and Xingqiu, caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the masked stranger, paused in their combat. Their eyes shifted from the dying Adeptus to the enigmatic figure who had appeared from the shadows.

The coyote Adeptus, its life fading rapidly, managed a final, incredulous gaze at its unexpected killer. It tried to speak, but the words died in its throat as its strength ebbed away. The life force that had once driven its formidable power slowly dissipated, leaving behind a lifeless form that slumped to the ground.

The masked figure stepped forward, their movements fluid and deliberate. They withdrew the blade with a practiced grace, wiping it clean with a cloth before sheathing it with a practiced motion. The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the murmurs of the stunned civilians and the fading echoes of battle.

“Who are you?” Chongyun demanded, his voice a mix of curiosity and caution. He stepped forward, his claymore still in hand, ready for any further conflict.

The scene in the city grew more chaotic as Momon faced off against the newly arrived group of Adepti and their subordinates. The shock was palpable as the lifeless body of the coyote Adeptus lay sprawled on the ground, drawing gasps and whispers from those who witnessed the grim sight.

One of the Adepti, a tall figure with a stern expression and a fierce presence, stepped forward, his voice laced with anger. “You did that?!” he barked at Momon, his eyes blazing with fury. The Adeptus around him tightened their grip on their weapons, their anger transforming into a deadly resolve.

Momon’s eyes, cold and unwavering, met theirs as he took measured steps forward. “You thought you’d have it easy taking over the city, did you?” he said with a voice that held an edge of scorn. The weight of his words hung in the air, mingling with the fear and confusion of the onlookers.

The Adepti, now fully enraged by Momon’s audacity, began to encircle him. “You will pay for that!” the lead Adeptus roared. In a swift command, he ordered, “Kill him!”

The order was met with a flurry of movement as the Adepti and their subordinates prepared to attack. However, the confrontation ended in an instant. In a display of staggering speed and prowess, Momon struck with unparalleled efficiency. The air seemed to shimmer with his sudden movements as he unleashed a devastating series of blows.

Heads flew through the air in a grisly arc, their expressions frozen in shock and disbelief. The once-formidable Adepti and their subordinates fell to the ground in a heap of lifeless bodies. The brutal and swift execution left a chilling silence in its wake, the only sound being the heavy, ragged breaths of the astonished witnesses.

Chongyun and Xingqiu stood frozen, their eyes wide with a mix of awe and horror. The speed and sheer power with which he dispatched the Adepti were beyond anything they had imagined.

As the dust settled and the severed heads and bodies lay scattered on the ground, the two boys slowly lowered their weapons. The terror and shock of the scene were reflected in their faces. Despite their initial distrust, they couldn’t deny the raw, formidable strength that Momon had just displayed. It was clear he was far beyond the capabilities of any ordinary warrior, let alone the Adepti.

Momon’s voice, calm yet commanding, cut through the tension as he spoke, “Protect the citizens.” Without another word, he turned and began walking away, his steps deliberate and unhurried as he made his way toward Yujing Terrace, where the heart of the conflict now brewed.

Chongyun and Xingqiu stood rooted to the spot, their weapons still lowered, eyes wide with a mix of emotions they struggled to process. The alleyway, now littered with the remains of the Adepti and their subordinates, was eerily silent, the grim aftermath of the confrontation hanging heavily in the air.

Chongyun, normally so composed and focused, felt a shiver run down his spine. “That… that was intense,” he finally managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes, usually clear and determined, now held a trace of uncertainty as he looked at the carnage before them.

Xingqiu, ever the strategist, tried to find words to encapsulate what they had just witnessed, but even he was at a loss. “I’ve read many tales of heroes and villains, but this… I don’t know what to make of it,” he admitted, his voice tinged with both awe and confusion. “That man… he saved us, but the way he did it…”

Chongyun nodded slowly, his grip tightening on his weapon. “It was… brutal. Efficient, but brutal. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

The two boys exchanged a glance, their expressions mirroring the same internal conflict. On one hand, they couldn’t deny that Momon’s intervention had saved them and the civilians they were protecting. His strength was undeniable, and in a situation where they had been outnumbered and outmatched, his actions had been nothing short of lifesaving. But on the other hand, the sheer ruthlessness of his attack, the way he had dispatched the Adepti and their subordinates with such cold precision, left them unsettled.

Xingqiu frowned, deep in thought. “Is he a hero? Or something else entirely? I can’t tell if we should be grateful… or terrified.”

Chongyun exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the lingering unease. “Maybe he’s both. A hero who’s willing to do whatever it takes, no matter how extreme. But… we can’t afford to stand around questioning it. He told us to protect the citizens, and that’s what we have to do.”

Xingqiu nodded in agreement, though the uncertainty in his eyes remained. “You’re right. Whatever he is, we can’t let the city fall. We have to do our part.”

At Yujing Terrace, the air was thick with tension, a palpable force that seemed to weigh down on everyone present. The atmosphere was charged, both sides poised on the brink of violence, each second stretching out unbearably as the standoff between the Adepti and the Liyue Qixing teetered on the edge of chaos.

Tang Zhi, the lion Adeptus, a towering figure of raw power, suddenly moved. The sound of his massive claymore being pulled from its sheath was like a thunderclap, reverberating through the Terrace and sending a wave of alarm through the assembled ranks of the Qixing and the Millelith. The massive blade, almost as long as he was tall, gleamed menacingly in the midday sun, its edge catching the light as he swung it over his shoulder with practiced ease.

“What are you trying to do, Tang Zhi?!” Moon Carver’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding, cutting through the tension like a blade. His usually serene demeanor was replaced by one of stern disapproval, his eyes narrowing at his fellow Adeptus. The stag Adeptus was known for his wisdom and restraint, but even he could sense that the situation was rapidly spiraling out of control.

Tang Zhi’s golden eyes burned with a fierce intensity as he turned to face Moon Carver. “I’m doing what needs to be done, Moon Carver! These humans dare to defy us, to challenge our authority. They must be reminded of their place!” His voice was a deep rumble, filled with barely contained fury.

Nearby, Feng, the werewolf Adeptus, let out a low growl as he too drew his weapon, a massive claymore that looked even more brutal in his hands. His muscles rippled beneath his fur, the primal energy radiating from him sending a chill down the spines of those who stood against him. The weapon, heavy and vicious, was held in a grip that promised destruction. “I’m with Tang Zhi. These humans have forgotten who protects this land. They need to be taught a lesson.” His voice was a menacing snarl, his fangs bared as his eyes darted toward the ranks of the Millelith, sizing them up as prey.

Gu Yang, the monkey Adeptus, was already crouched low, his spear held at the ready. His posture was tense, muscles coiled like a spring, ready to launch into action at a moment’s notice. The spearhead glinted wickedly, its sharpness unmistakable. He gave a short, sharp bark of agreement, his eyes darting between the Qixing and the other Adepti. “Tang Zhi’s right. We’ve shown them enough patience. It’s time to remind them of the old ways, the ways of the Adepti.”

On the other side, Ningguang stood her ground, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the situation. The Liyue Qixing had prepared for this possibility, but the sheer power of the Adepti before them was daunting. She glanced to her side where Keqing and Ganyu stood ready, the latter with her bow already drawn, a shining arrow nocked and aimed at Tang Zhi. The Millelith, too, were on edge, weapons drawn and shields raised, but the fear in their eyes was evident. They were prepared to fight, but facing the legendary Adepti was no small matter.

“Hold your ground!” Ningguang’s voice was firm, resonating with authority. She would not allow Liyue to be bullied into submission, even by those who had once protected it. “We are not your enemies, Tang Zhi. Put down your weapon, and we can discuss this like the allies we once were.”

Tang Zhi’s grip on his claymore tightened, his gaze locked onto Ningguang. “Allies? We were never equals. We were the protectors, the guardians, and you were the ones we shielded. Now, you dare to take the power into your own hands, to make decisions without us? No, Ningguang, there is no discussion to be had.”

The tension escalated, the threat of violence hanging in the air like a storm about to break. The Terrace, normally a place of peace and governance, was now a battlefield in the making, and it seemed that only a spark was needed to ignite the powder keg.

An elderly woman, her presence radiating a gentle yet undeniable authority, stepped forward from the edge of the terrace. Her appearance brought an immediate hush to the tense scene. The Adepti and the Millelith alike turned to her, recognizing the figure known as Madam Ping.

“Madam Ping?” Ganyu’s voice trembled slightly with concern as she recognized the woman who had been both a mentor and a mother figure to her. There was a hint of fear in Ganyu’s eyes—not for herself, but for what this confrontation might mean for the city she loved.

Tang Zhi, the lion Adeptus, bared his fangs in a grin that was more of a snarl. “Streetward Rambler, hahaha, long time no see. I almost didn’t recognize you among these humans.” His voice dripped with contempt as he spoke, his golden eyes narrowing at the sight of the elderly woman. “Living with these weaklings has softened you, it seems. Enough to the point where you would stand in the way of your own kind, to stop us from bringing justice!”

Madam Ping’s expression remained calm, though there was a deep sadness in her eyes as she regarded the lion Adeptus and his companions. “Tang Zhi, Feng, Gu Yang… how eager you are to unleash your rage upon these people, to punish them for crimes they have not committed.” Her voice was soft, but it carried the weight of centuries, commanding respect from all who heard it. “Do you truly believe this is justice?”

Feng, the werewolf Adeptus, growled lowly, his grip tightening on his claymore. “They’ve grown arrogant, Streetward Rambler. The humans think they can rule without us, that they no longer need the Adepti. They must be reminded of their place.”

Gu Yang, the monkey Adeptus, sneered, his spear still at the ready. “And what would you have us do, Streetward Rambler? Stand by and watch as they tear apart the land we’ve protected for millennia?”

Madam Ping shook her head, her expression growing more sorrowful. “I would have you remember the true purpose of our existence. We were never meant to be rulers, but protectors. The people of Liyue are not our enemies; they are the ones we swore to protect, to guide through the trials of this world. But you, Tang Zhi… you have allowed your pride to cloud your judgment.”

“There are no more words left to exchange!” Tang Zhi’s voice thundered through the air as he suddenly bolted forward, his powerful legs propelling him with incredible speed. The lion Adeptus was a blur of motion, his massive claymore raised high as he closed the distance between himself and Ningguang in an instant. His eyes burned with the belief that the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing was the one responsible for corrupting the minds of the citizens, poisoning them with greed and ambition that led them astray from the Adepti’s teachings.

Ningguang’s eyes widened, her normally calm demeanor faltering as she realized that even her sharp reflexes would not be quick enough to evade the incoming strike. The Millelith, though brave, were no match for the speed and strength of Tang Zhi. His claymore, large enough to fell an entire squad in a single swing, glinted ominously in the sunlight as it descended.

But just as the blade was about to strike, a series of golden Geo structures erupted from the ground with a loud, resounding crash. The structures formed a barrier between Tang Zhi and Ningguang, the Adeptus’s claymore colliding with the stone with a force that sent shockwaves through the terrace. Tang Zhi recoiled, stunned by the sudden appearance of the Geo constructs that had completely blocked his attack. His eyes narrowed in confusion and anger, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

“Who dares interfere?!” Tang Zhi roared, his voice filled with fury as he took a step back, surveying the battlefield for the source of this intervention.

A moment later, a blonde-haired boy leaped forward, landing gracefully beside Ningguang with his sword drawn. Hovering just above his shoulder was his ever-loyal companion, a small, floating girl with a worried expression on her face.

“Enough with this madness!” Aether demanded, his voice carrying an authority that seemed to cut through the tension like a knife. His golden eyes locked onto Tang Zhi’s, unyielding and determined. “This isn’t the way to protect Liyue. You’re only causing more harm!”

Tang Zhi’s eyes blazed with anger. “You… You dare stand in my way, human?” Tang Zhi snarled though the ferocity of his words was tempered by the unexpected resistance he had encountered.

Ningguang, regaining her composure, looked at Aether with a mixture of relief and gratitude. She had been moments away from certain death, and she knew it. “Traveler… Thank you,” she said, her voice steady despite the lingering fear. “Your timing couldn’t have been more perfect.” Aether glanced back at her, nodding slightly.

As the dust began to settle, three more figures emerged from the ranks of the Adepti. Cloud Retainer, with her elegant, crane-like form; Moon Carver, the stoic stag; and Mountain Shaper, the massive, earthbound tortoise, all landed gracefully beside the Liyue Qixing. Their presence, majestic and ancient, commanded attention as they stepped forward, aligning themselves with the humans rather than their fellow Adepti.

Cloud Retainer, her voice carrying the weight of centuries of wisdom, spoke first. “Tang Zhi, our contract with Rex Lapis is indeed absolute, a bond forged in trust and duty. But look around you—what have we become? By allowing our anger to dictate our actions, we risk losing sight of the true purpose of that contract.”

Moon Carver, his antlers glinting in the sunlight, nodded in agreement. “We are the protectors of Liyue, not its conquerors. The people of this city look to us for guidance, for protection. If we turn against them now, we are no better than the enemies we vowed to stand against.”

Mountain Shaper, his voice deep and rumbling like the earth itself, added, “Our power is immense, but with that power comes responsibility. We have allowed our rage to cloud our judgment, and in doing so, we have begun to look like the very villains we seek to destroy.”

As the battle seemed inevitable, Tang Zhi’s roar echoed across Yujing Terrace, his fury and betrayal fueling the rage within the other Adepti. Feng and Gu Yang, alongside a dozen other Adepti, readied themselves for a clash that would surely end in carnage. Their eyes burned with anger, and their weapons gleamed ominously in the midday sun.

“You traitors!” Tang Zhi bellowed, his voice reverberating through the air. “You lot won’t see the end of this day!”

With that declaration, the Adepti began their march forward, their powerful strides causing the ground beneath them to tremble. The humans, though resolute, could not help but feel the weight of the impending onslaught. The Millelith tightened their grips on their weapons, ready to defend Liyue with their lives, while the Qixing steeled themselves for the battle that was about to unfold.

But before the first blow could be struck, a long spear descended from the sky, embedding itself into the ground with a resounding thud right at Tang Zhi’s feet. The impact was so fierce that it sent shockwaves through the earth, causing the advancing Adepti to halt abruptly. As the dust settled, all eyes were drawn to the spear—and the gruesome sight it bore.

The spear’s shaft was adorned with the severed heads of seven Adepti, their lifeless eyes staring out in different directions, their expressions frozen in terror and pain. The blood-soaked weapon stood as a macabre testament to the violence that had taken place, and the air around it seemed to thicken with a malevolent energy.

“What in the world?!” Tang Zhi growled, his voice trembling with a mix of fury and disbelief. The sight before him was unlike anything he had ever encountered—a brutal display of power and cruelty that sent shivers down the spines of even the most hardened warriors.

The other Adepti recoiled in horror, their earlier bravado wavering as they stared at the grisly trophy. The humans, too, were taken aback by the sheer brutality of the scene, their fear mingling with a morbid curiosity about the being capable of such a monstrous act.

Xiao, standing amidst the tension, felt a chill run down his spine. The evil presence that had accompanied the spear’s arrival was undeniable, a dark aura that seemed to taint the very air around them. His sharp senses picked up on the shifting atmosphere as the human ranks began to part, creating a path for someone—or something—to emerge.

“He’s here…” Xiao muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the crowd.

From the midst of the human army, a figure stepped forward, moving with a slow, deliberate grace that belied the chaos around him. His presence was both commanding and unnerving, a combination of raw power and cold detachment that sent a ripple of fear through those who beheld him.

It was Momon.

The mysterious, monstrous being who had nearly taken Xiao’s life in a battle that the Adeptus would never forget. Clad in his dark, imposing armor, with his undead eyes glowing faintly beneath his mask, Momon radiated an aura of menace that seemed to suffocate the very light around him. Each step he took was heavy with purpose, his gaze fixed on the scene before him—on the spear, on the Adepti, and on the humans who stood between them.

Tang Zhi, for all his strength and fury, found himself hesitating as Momon approached. The sight of the spear, combined with the knowledge of the brutal power Momon wielded, stirred something primal within him—a fear that he had not felt in centuries.

“Who… What are you?” Tang Zhi demanded, his voice faltering as he struggled to maintain his composure.

Momon's gaze swept across the assembled Adepti, his eyes narrowing with disdain. The power he held seemed to pulse within him, dark and terrifying, as if the very air around him was thick with malevolence.

“It doesn’t matter…” Momon’s voice was a low, icy whisper that cut through the tension like a blade. His eyes settled on Xiao, the one who had once fought him with such conviction. “Xiao, I thought you’d be smart, but I was wrong…”

Xiao stiffened, recognizing the danger in Momon’s words, but before he could react, Momon turned his attention to Tang Zhi and the other Adepti who had defied the will of their fallen Archon. There was a cruel glint in Momon’s eyes as he raised his hand, palm open toward them.

Tang Zhi, the lion Adeptus, felt a sudden shift in the air around him, a pull that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. For a brief moment, he looked confused, unsure of what was happening. But then the sensation intensified, and realization dawned on him with horrifying clarity.

“No… What is this?!” Tang Zhi’s voice trembled, but his words were cut off by a bloodcurdling scream as an invisible force began to tug at his body, pulling him forward with an inescapable grip.

The same force seized Feng, the werewolf Adeptus, and Gu Yang, the monkey Adeptus, as well as several other nearby Adepti. Their eyes widened in terror as their bodies were drawn toward Momon, their limbs flailing uselessly as they fought against the overwhelming power.

“NO! AAAAHHHH!” Their screams echoed through the terrace, a symphony of agony that chilled the hearts of all who heard it.

Ningguang, Ganyu, and the others watched in horror as the scene unfolded before them. The once-proud and powerful Adepti were now helpless against the crushing force that enveloped them. Their bodies contorted, bones snapping under the pressure, as they were pulled closer and closer to Momon.

The tension reached a breaking point as the force reached its peak. And then, in an instant, it all came to a catastrophic end.

With a sickening crunch, the bodies of Tang Zhi, Feng, Gu Yang, and the others were crushed by the invisible force, their screams abruptly silenced. The energy that had drawn them in exploded outward, releasing its dark power in a violent burst.

The impact was devastating. A sea of blood erupted from the point of impact, spraying across the Yujing Terrace in a grotesque display of carnage. The blood splattered the ground, the walls, and even the stunned onlookers, painting the once serene terrace in shades of red.

Ningguang and the Qixing recoiled in shock, their faces pale with disbelief. This power—whatever it was—defied comprehension. It was beyond anything they had ever seen, an abomination of strength and cruelty that left them speechless.

Momon stood amidst the chaos, unfazed by the massacre he had just wrought. The blood that covered the terrace seemed almost insignificant to him, a mere byproduct of his power. He slowly lowered his hand, his expression cold and indifferent as if this act of destruction was nothing more than a means to an end.

The air was thick with the stench of blood and fear, the remnants of the Adepti's lives pooling at his feet. The humans could only stare, paralyzed by the sheer brutality of the scene, their minds struggling to grasp the enormity of what had just occurred.

Xiao, still reeling from the sight of his fellow Adepti being annihilated, felt a deep, unsettling fear take root within him. He had known that Momon was powerful, but this… this was something else entirely. Something dark, twisted, and beyond anything he had ever faced.

Momon's footsteps echoed ominously across the blood-soaked terrace as he walked slowly toward Xiao. The air was thick with dread, and the humans nearby, including Ningguang and the Millelith, remained deathly silent, their fear of Momon's wrath rendering them mute. They dared not intervene, knowing that the slightest provocation could spell their doom.

Xiao, the Conqueror of Demons, felt his heart pounding in his chest as Momon approached. His grip tightened around his spear, the weapon shaking in his hands despite his efforts to steady it. The Adeptus who had faced countless demons and evil spirits now found himself paralyzed by a fear unlike any he had ever known. His feet refused to move, rooted to the ground by the overwhelming presence that loomed before him.

Momon's eyes bore into Xiao's, cold and unfeeling, like the gaze of a predator sizing up its prey. As he reached Xiao, the tension in the air became suffocating. Without a word, Momon reached out and seized Xiao by the neck, lifting him off the ground with a single, effortless motion.

Xiao gasped, his hands instinctively moving to grip Momon's wrist, but he found himself powerless against the overwhelming strength that held him. His vision blurred as the pressure on his throat increased, and he struggled to breathe, his feet dangling helplessly above the ground.

“Remember what I told you that night.” Momon's voice was a low, menacing growl, dripping with the promise of violence. He brought Xiao closer, his grip tightening as he stared into the Adeptus's eyes. "I told you—I'll break you in half!"

Xiao's mind raced, his thoughts a chaotic swirl of fear and desperation. He remembered that night all too well, the night when Momon had nearly killed him in battle. The words echoed in his mind, a grim reminder of the power and malice that Momon possessed.

Despite his fear, Xiao summoned what little strength he had left, trying to push back against the crushing grip around his neck. But it was no use—Momon's strength was far beyond anything he could match. He could feel his consciousness slipping, the edges of his vision darkening as his body struggled to hold on.

The humans watched in horrified silence, their hearts pounding in their chests as they witnessed the terrifying scene unfold before them. They knew they were powerless to stop Momon, and the sight of Xiao—one of the most revered Adepti—being manhandled like a mere ragdoll only deepened their fear.

As Xiao's struggle began to weaken, Momon’s expression remained cold, devoid of any emotion. He was a force of nature, an unstoppable entity that seemed to revel in the fear and destruction he wrought. The once-proud Conqueror of Demons was now at his mercy, and it was clear to all who watched that Momon had every intention of making good on his promise.

Momon's grip on Xiao's neck suddenly loosened, and he dropped the Adeptus onto the blood-stained ground. Xiao collapsed in a heap, gasping for air, his chest heaving as he coughed violently. The pain in his throat was excruciating, and he struggled to catch his breath, the effects of Momon’s crushing grip lingering as he lay sprawled on the ground.

Momon stood over Xiao, his expression unchanging under the mask. The cold, calculating look in his eyes remained fixed on the fallen Adeptus, as if he were considering what to do next. The silence that followed was palpable, broken only by Xiao's ragged breaths and the distant sounds of chaos from the city.

Ningguang, the Millelith, and the remaining Adepti watched with a mix of shock and relief. The sheer display of Momon’s power had left them paralyzed, and they were left to grapple with the terrifying reality of their situation.

Xiao struggled to his knees, his hands clutching his throat as he tried to regain some semblance of composure. His face was pale, and sweat dripped from his forehead as he looked up at Momon with a mix of fear and defiance.

“Why…?” Xiao croaked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why did you let me go?”

Momon's voice dropped to a chilling whisper as he leaned closer to Xiao, his tone icy and laced with malice. "I have a feeling that if I killed you right now, that would break my companion's heart."

Xiao’s eyes widened in fear, his breath catching in his throat. The intensity of Momon's gaze and the threatening edge in his voice sent shivers down his spine. He felt a cold, heavy hand press against his back, a stark reminder of the power Momon wielded. The touch was both unnervingly intimate and terrifying.

Momon's expression remained unreadable, but his words were clear. "I will kill you if you don’t get the hell out of my sight."

The low, menacing tone was meant only for Xiao’s ears, and it carried an unmistakable threat. The chilling reality of the situation sank in, Momon wasn’t just showing off his strength—he genuinely wanted to kill him. The fact that he had to be spared only because of the potential emotional impact on Momon’s companion did nothing to alleviate the terror Xiao felt. The dark promise in Momon's voice was a stark reminder of how precarious his situation was.

Xiao scrambled to his feet, his movements shaky and desperate. He glanced around at the stunned faces of the humans and Adepti, trying to regain his composure. His pride was wounded, but the threat of death was far more pressing.

Swallowing hard, Xiao’s voice trembled as he spoke, “I… I’m leaving.”

Without waiting for a response, Xiao turned and fled from Yujing Terrace. His steps were quick and unsteady, the weight of Momon’s threat driving him to escape as fast as he could. The Adepti who had witnessed the confrontation watched him leave, their expressions a mix of concern and confusion.

Momon stood still for a moment, his eyes following Xiao’s retreating figure. Once Xiao was out of sight, he straightened up and turned back toward the remaining crowd, his demeanor returning to its previous calm. The tension in the air was still thick, but his actions had shifted the focus of the conflict.

Momon turned his gaze toward the Liyue Qixing, who stood in stunned silence, their faces pale and expressions frozen in fear. The overwhelming display of his power had left them visibly shaken. Ningguang’s eyes widened with disbelief, her composure cracking under the pressure of what she had witnessed. Keqing’s usual sharp demeanor was replaced with a look of horror, while Ganyu, though maintaining her calm exterior, could not hide the tremor in her eyes.

The scene of blood-soaked carnage on the Yujing Terrace was a testament to the fearsome might Momon wielded. The sight of the blood-red mist swirling around the terrace and the horrific remnants of the Adepti’s demise had a profound effect on everyone present.

Momon's steps were deliberate as he approached the Liyue Qixing, his every movement radiating an aura of menacing authority. The sheer force of his presence seemed to amplify the dread among the Qixing, making it almost tangible.

The silence that followed Momon's devastating display of power was palpable. The citizens of Liyue Harbor and the remaining Adepti, now scattered and subdued, watched in a mix of awe and trepidation as Momon approached Ningguang. His presence, though commanding, seemed to cast an ominous shadow over the entire Yujing Terrace.

Ningguang, still visibly shaken from the confrontation, took a cautious step closer to Momon. Her usually composed demeanor was marred by the shock of witnessing such overwhelming power. Her voice trembled slightly as she addressed him.

“Ningguang…” Momon’s tone was unexpectedly calm, though it carried an underlying tension.

“Ye-Yes?” Ningguang responded, her voice quivering. She met his gaze, trying to maintain her composure despite the fear that lingered in her eyes.

“I guess the conflict with the Adepti is over for now…” Momon said, his words punctuated by a hint of finality. His gaze swept over the chaos he had left in his wake—fallen Adepti, frightened citizens, and the battered ranks of the Liyue Qixing.

“In-Indeed, Momon,” Ningguang replied, her voice steadier now but still marked by the residue of her earlier fear. “The Adepti have been forced to surrender, and the immediate threat has been neutralized.”

Momon’s expression shifted to one of disdain mixed with bewilderment. “Hmm, what even was their plan? Bring justice by killing everyone? What a bunch of weirdos.”

Among the figures standing amidst the Liyue Qixing, Cloud Retainer made her way forward. The transformation she underwent was nothing short of mesmerizing. Her form, once that of a majestic Adeptus with a leonine presence, now shifted into that of a world-class beauty, a stunningly graceful woman whose aura radiated both elegance and wisdom.

Momon was momentarily captivated by Cloud Retainer's transformation. Her appearance, marked by a resplendent gown and an ethereal grace, drew his attention as she moved with a poised and deliberate air.

With a slow, deliberate step, Cloud Retainer approached Momon. Her eyes, now reflecting a deeper understanding, met his with a contemplative gaze. The transformation seemed to embody a sense of sorrow and realization, a stark contrast to the fierceness she had displayed moments earlier.

“Sir Momon,” Cloud Retainer began, her voice carrying a hauntingly melodic tone that seemed to weave through the still air. “Many of us Adepti held differing feelings on this matter. Some sought to uncover the truth behind Rex Lapis’s death, driven by a desire for clarity and justice. Others were fueled by a need for vengeance, a craving for blood that clouded their judgment.”

She paused, allowing her words to sink in as her gaze shifted to the scattered remains of the Adepti who had fallen. The weight of her words seemed to hang heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of blood and the faint whispers of anguish from the wounded.

“One had no idea,” Cloud Retainer continued, her tone softening with regret, “that the situation would escalate to such a catastrophic level. The path we were on seemed to blur the lines between justice and destruction, and now, in the wake of this conflict, the cost is evident.”

“But one has a question for you, Momon… Who are you?”

The gathered crowd—composed of the battered Liyue Qixing, the disheveled Millelith, and the remaining Adepti—turned their attention toward Momon, their eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and anticipation. It was clear that the enigmatic figure who had turned the tide of the conflict was a mystery they all wanted to unravel.

Momon, aware of the weight of their gazes, chose his words carefully. He had no intention of revealing more than necessary about his true nature or purpose. With a measured tone, he addressed Cloud Retainer and the assembled audience. “I am the Honorary Knight from Mondstadt. I have also taken ownership of the Stormterror’s lair and Dragonspine.”

As he spoke, Aether and Paimon stepped up beside him, offering friendly waves to the crowd. Their presence was a stark contrast to the tension still lingering in the air.

“These two,” Momon continued, gesturing to his companions, “are Aether and Paimon. They are my trusted allies.”

Cloud Retainer, though still intrigued, seemed to accept the answer for now. She nodded slowly, her eyes reflecting both the gravity of the situation and the realization that Momon’s identity was just one piece of a larger puzzle.

“So, you are indeed an outsider,” Cloud Retainer said, her tone thoughtful. “Yet you possess a power and influence that rival our own. It seems the scales of fate have shifted in ways we had not anticipated.”

Momon inclined his head slightly, acknowledging her words. “It appears that way. My presence here was never intended to provoke such conflict, but circumstances have unfolded as they have.”

Ningguang stepped forward, her gaze fixed on Momon, Aether, and Paimon. Her voice carried a note of sincere gratitude that cut through the lingering apprehension.

“Momon, and you too, Aether and Paimon,” Ningguang began, her tone earnest and respectful. “From the bottom of our hearts, thank you for protecting Liyue. The people of our nation will always remember you as heroes.”

The words hung in the air, and a murmur of appreciation began to spread through the crowd. Slowly, the murmurs grew into applause. The citizens of Liyue, despite their initial fear and uncertainty, were moved by the display of courage and the dramatic turn of events that had saved their city.

The clapping started hesitantly but soon gained momentum, echoing through the streets of Yujing Terrace. The once tense and fearful crowd now showed their gratitude through a heartfelt ovation. Their applause was a mixture of relief, admiration, and respect for those who had stood against a seemingly insurmountable threat.

Momon, who had been prepared for anything but this show of appreciation, stood still for a moment, absorbing the unexpected honor. His expression remained impassive, but a flicker of something softer crossed his eyes as he regarded the people of Liyue.

Aether, always one to embrace moments of connection with the people they helped, smiled and gave a respectful nod. Paimon, ever the enthusiastic and emotional presence, fluttered beside him, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and delight at the outpouring of support.

Ningguang, observing the scene, allowed herself a small, appreciative smile. “It’s not every day that we see such bravery and sacrifice. Your actions today have made a lasting impression on us all.”

As the applause continued, the citizens of Liyue felt a renewed sense of unity and hope. The fear and chaos that had dominated the day were slowly being replaced by a shared gratitude and the promise of a brighter future.

Momon, Aether, and Paimon exchanged glances, the weight of their experiences settling into a deeper understanding of their impact. The conflict may have left scars, but the bonds forged in its aftermath would carry forward as a testament to their courage and the resilience of Liyue.

From the distance of a cliff overlooking Yujing Terrace, a tall figure stood silently, his gaze fixed on the tumultuous scene below. The city, now bathed in the light of the setting sun, seemed to glow with a mix of relief and residual tension. The figure’s imposing silhouette was accentuated against the backdrop of the twilight sky.

Rex Lapis, appearing in his human form, looked out over the city with an expression of quiet contemplation. His usually formidable presence was tempered by a deep sense of disappointment rather than anger. His eyes, though serene, betrayed the weight of the situation and the outcome that had unfolded.

“Why did it have to go like this?” Rex Lapis murmured to himself, his voice carrying a hint of sadness. The grand plan that had been set into motion had spiraled into chaos, resulting in a confrontation that left both sides reeling. The conflict he had hoped to understand and resolve had turned into a spectacle of bloodshed and desperation.

The Adepti’s failed invasion, the violence, and the dramatic confrontation with Momon had been unintended consequences of his larger design. What was meant to be a test of loyalty and truth had instead become a battleground of conflicting ideals and miscommunications.

As Rex Lapis watched, he reflected on the complexities of the divine and mortal worlds. The very forces that were meant to maintain balance and order had now been pitted against each other in a struggle that seemed to only deepen the divide between them.

His gaze softened as he took in the sight of the heroes who had intervened, their actions creating a fragile peace amidst the chaos. Momon, Aether, and Paimon had emerged as unexpected saviors, their bravery and power turning the tide and averting further disaster. Yet, the cost had been high, and the scars of the conflict would linger.

Chapter Text

The events that transpired in Liyue Harbor on this fateful day would undoubtedly be etched into the annals of history, a day when the harmony between the city’s guardians and its protectors was shattered and then tenuously restored by the intervention of outsiders. The conflict between the Liyue Qixing and the Adepti had teetered on the brink of cataclysm, but the combined efforts of Momon and Aether had narrowly averted what could have been an unparalleled disaster.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the ancient city, Ningguang led the Liyue Qixing and the Millelith on a grim tour of the aftermath. The usually bustling streets of Liyue Harbor were now eerily silent, the air heavy with the scent of blood and the stench of death. What they encountered as they moved through the city was nothing short of a scene from a nightmare.

Decapitated heads and severed limbs littered the cobblestone streets, their presence a stark reminder of the brutal conflict that had unfolded just hours earlier. Pools of blood had formed in the gutters, slowly seeping into the cracks of the pavement, while the once-proud bodies of Adepti lay lifeless, their guts spilled out in gruesome displays of carnage. The streets, once filled with the vibrant life of traders and travelers, now seemed haunted by the remnants of battle.

Ningguang’s heart weighed heavily as she surveyed the devastation. She had always known that the Adepti were formidable, but what she saw now was beyond anything she had ever imagined. The power that had been unleashed was nothing short of monstrous. And as her gaze settled on the twisted remains of the Adepti who had once been revered as protectors, a cold realization dawned upon her.

She knew, with absolute certainty, that Aether had not been the one to wreak this havoc. The blonde traveler, though powerful in his own right, lacked the sheer brutality required to commit such acts. No, this was the work of his companion, the enigmatic and terrifying Momon. The realization sent a shiver down her spine. Momon was not the hero of legend, the noble warrior who saved the day with honor and valor. He was something far more dangerous, a force of nature that cut down his enemies with a ruthlessness that bordered on inhuman.

As Ningguang walked through the streets, she could see the fear etched on the faces of the citizens who had witnessed the slaughter. Their expressions were pale, their eyes wide with horror as they recoiled from the carnage. The people of Liyue had always revered the Adepti, but now they were faced with the chilling reality that even these powerful beings were not invincible—and that their defeat had come at the hands of a being who showed no mercy.

The ruthless efficiency with which Momon had dispatched the Adepti left Ningguang unsettled. She had always believed that power should be wielded with restraint, that even in conflict, there was a code of honor to be upheld. But Momon had shattered that belief, cutting down the Adepti with a savagery that defied reason. There was no honor in what he had done, only cold, calculated violence.

Ningguang paused, her gaze lingering on one particularly gruesome scene—a decapitated Adeptus, his head resting several feet away from his body, his once-vibrant robes now soaked in blood. She turned away, unable to look any longer, her mind racing with the implications of what had occurred.

Momon was a protector, yes, but he was also a monster, one who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals. And while he had saved Liyue from a potentially devastating conflict, he had also left the city with scars that would not soon heal. The people might remember this day as the one when their city was spared from destruction, but they would also not forget the terror that accompanied it—the terror of a being who wielded power without restraint.

The remaining Adepti who had chosen to lay down their arms and side with reason moved solemnly through the blood-soaked streets of Liyue. The gravity of the day's events weighed heavily on them, their faces a mix of grief, shame, and determination. They had come to Liyue Harbor with the intent to deliver justice, but now they found themselves burdened with the task of honoring their fallen comrades.

With careful hands and heavy hearts, the Adepti began the grim work of collecting the bodies of their brethren. Each lifeless form was handled with reverence, their once-majestic figures now draped in silence. The powerful beings who had stood as guardians of Liyue for millennia were now being prepared for their final journey back to their sacred homeland, where they would be laid to rest.

Cloud Retainer, in her human form, led the effort, her graceful movements belying the sorrow in her eyes. She directed the others with quiet authority, ensuring that each fallen Adeptus was treated with the respect they deserved. Moon Carver and Mountain Shaper worked alongside her, their expressions somber as they lifted the bodies of those they had once fought beside.

As the Adepti gathered their fallen, a somber silence enveloped the city. The citizens of Liyue, still shaken by the violence that had erupted in their midst, watched from a distance, their hearts heavy with conflicting emotions. The Adepti had always been revered, but now they were seen in a different light—a mix of reverence and fear, of gratitude and sorrow.

The bodies were carried out of the city, away from the scenes of carnage and destruction. The Adepti moved with a quiet dignity, their eyes forward as they made their way toward the cliffs that overlooked the harbor. There, they would take to the skies, carrying their fallen comrades back to the sacred lands where they would find eternal rest.

As Ningguang stood at the port, surveying the damage that stretched across Liyue Harbor, her mind raced with the countless tasks that lay ahead. The once-bustling city was now a place of eerie quiet, the aftermath of the battle weighing heavily on her shoulders. She knew that the road to recovery would be long and arduous, but the sight of the broken city, and the people who still needed her, steeled her resolve.

Just as she was about to turn and give orders to the Millelith, a familiar voice broke through her thoughts.

“Seems like you will have your hands full for some time, Ningguang,” came the voice, smooth and commanding.

Ningguang's heart almost skipped a beat as she turned to see Momon approaching. His presence was as imposing as ever, yet there was a strange calmness about him now, a stark contrast to the fury he had unleashed earlier. The sight of him brought a mix of relief and unease—relief that the immediate threat had been quelled, but unease at the memory of the power he had wielded.

“Ahh, Momon…” Ningguang replied, her voice catching slightly as she gathered her composure. “You’re right, there is so much to be done, and it’s hard to know where to even begin.”

Momon’s gaze swept over the harbor, taking in the damage with a detached expression. He nodded slowly, as if weighing her words. “Let me know if you need assistance. I will help if you wish.”

The offer, though unexpected, was not unwelcome. Ningguang studied him for a moment, trying to gauge the true intentions behind his words. There was something about Momon—something beyond the raw power he possessed—that intrigued her. He was an enigma, a force that seemed to exist beyond the usual rules that governed Teyvat. And now, here he was, offering his aid in the wake of the chaos.

“You’re ready for anything, aren’t you?” she said, a small, appreciative smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I admire that… Thank you, Momon.”

Her words were genuine, and though there was still an underlying wariness, Ningguang couldn’t deny that Momon’s strength had been instrumental in saving Liyue. The way he had handled the Adepti, though brutal, had prevented a greater disaster. For that, she was grateful.

“Would you look at that! I’m late to the party, ain’t I?”

Ningguang turned on her heel, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the source of the voice. There, standing at the edge of the port, was none other than Beidou, the captain of the Crux Fleet. The wind tousled her short, dark hair as she stood with one hand on her hip, a wide grin plastered across her face. Her crimson coat billowed behind her, and the heavy blade she carried was slung casually over her shoulder as if it weighed nothing.

“You certainly have a knack for timing, Beidou,” Ningguang replied, a faint smile crossing her lips. “But I suppose it’s better late than

Beidou laughed, a deep, hearty sound that seemed to cut through the tension in the air. “Well, I’d have been here sooner, but the sea was a bit choppy. You know how it is. But it looks like I missed all the fun.” Her eyes flicked to the remnants of the chaos that had engulfed the harbor, and she let out a low whistle. “Though, from the looks of it, maybe I’m lucky I didn’t get here earlier.”

Ningguang couldn’t help but smile at Beidou’s characteristic nonchalance. Even in the face of such destruction, Beidou’s unwavering confidence was infectious. “We had… unexpected help,” she said, her gaze shifting briefly to where Momon stood, his back turned to them as he prepared to assist in the cleanup. “But yes, we managed.”

Beidou followed Ningguang’s gaze, her eyebrow-raising in curiosity. “That so?” she mused, eyeing Momon with interest. “I’ve heard rumors about a mysterious figure causing quite a stir lately. Guess I’ll have to thank him for keeping the city in one piece.”

Beidou strolled confidently toward Momon, her eyes gleaming with curiosity and amusement. As she drew nearer, she couldn't help but marvel at his imposing presence. Momon stood tall and stern, his masked face giving little away, but his aura was undeniably commanding.

“Wow, you’re tall, aren’t you? Makes me feel like a little shrimp!” she joked, her voice full of warmth and energy. "You've got quite the imposing figure. I bet you had a blast kicking some Adepti ass, didn't you?"

Momon, who had been standing quietly, his imposing figure casting a long shadow in the afternoon sun, turned his head slightly to face Beidou. The expression behind his mask was unreadable, but his voice was calm and measured. “I wouldn’t say I was excited. But given the situation, extreme actions were necessary to end the conflict swiftly and decisively.”

Beidou nodded, her grin widening at his words. There was a spark of admiration in her eyes—she appreciated someone who could make tough decisions when the moment called for it. “True, true! Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. No room for hesitation when lives are on the line.” She gave him a solid pat on the shoulder, the force of it friendly but strong. “I like your style, Momon.”

Beidou's expression shifted from light-hearted to serious as she turned back to Ningguang. "Hey, there’s a reason I couldn’t make it here sooner," she said, her tone now carrying a note of concern. "The sea’s not looking normal today."

Ningguang's brow furrowed in response. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity and a hint of unease.

Beidou crossed her arms, her gaze hardening as she recalled the troubling sights she had encountered. "There's something beneath the waves that's been stirring up the sea. It’s not your average sea monster either—if it were, I'd have already put its head on a spear by now." She paused, her eyes narrowing as she considered the implications. "Whatever it is, it’s dangerous. And it’s coming."

The weight of Beidou's words settled over Ningguang like a heavy fog. She turned her gaze toward the distant horizon, her eyes locking onto the direction of the Guyun Stone Forest, an archipelago of seven large islands and countless smaller offshoots that lay far from Liyue Harbor. The towering stone pillars seemed to pierce the sky, shrouded in mist and mystery.

Ningguang’s voice dropped to a near whisper, her expression tightening as she stared at the distant Guyun Stone Forest. "Guyun Stone Forest…" she murmured, her eyes narrowing as she pieced together the implications. "If the legends are true, then doom is upon us."

Beidou’s eyes widened in shock. "Wait, you mean…" she began, the weight of Ningguang’s words sinking in.

Ningguang nodded solemnly, her gaze unwavering. "Since the Geo Archon is dead, his old enemy might have awakened. Osial…"

The name hung in the air like a death knell, sending a shiver down Beidou’s spine. "The ancient god, huh…" Beidou muttered, her usual bravado faltering as the gravity of the situation became clear. "This is bad."

Momon's curiosity about the ancient god Osial piqued, but something more urgent captured his attention. A deep, foreboding sensation emanated from the sea, growing stronger with each passing second. His gaze turned towards the horizon, his senses sharpening as he felt a disturbance beneath the waves.

“I guess you two are right…” Momon said, his voice carrying a blunt, almost ominous tone.

Ningguang and Beidou exchanged confused glances, their concern growing. “What do you mean?” Ningguang asked, her voice laced with unease.

Momon’s eyes remained fixed on the distant ocean. “Something big is about to come. Hold yourselves tight…” The warning was delivered bluntly, with no room for doubt or hesitation.

Before Ningguang or Beidou could press him for answers, the air around them seemed to ripple with unseen energy. The calm waters of Liyue Harbor suddenly churned, and in an instant, a powerful shockwave erupted from the depths of the sea.

The force of the shockwave was overwhelming. It hit the port with a thunderous roar, the impact sending tremors through the ground. Ships anchored at the harbor were violently tossed, their masts creaking under the strain, while the buildings along the shoreline rattled and groaned as if they might collapse at any moment.

Ningguang staggered, nearly losing her balance as the ground heaved beneath her feet. Beidou, ever the seasoned sailor, instinctively braced herself, though even she struggled to withstand the force that seemed to shake the very foundation of Liyue Harbor.

Momon stood firm amidst the chaos, his presence unyielding as the shockwave tore through the port. The wind whipped around him, tugging at his cloak, but he remained unfazed, his gaze unwavering as he assessed the situation.

When the shockwave finally subsided, a heavy silence fell over the harbor. The sea, though still restless, began to calm, but the air was thick with tension. The sense of dread that had been building only intensified as if something monstrous was lurking just out of sight.

Ningguang’s voice trembled as she looked to Momon for answers. “What… what just happened?”

Momon's voice cut through the tension like a blade. “That was a shockwave, and it came from the direction of those islands.”

Beidou’s face darkened as she connected the dots. “The Guyun Stone Forest? Then it’s true—Osial is free. Only such a monster could control the sea so aggressively.”

Before anyone could respond, Keqing and Ganyu arrived at the port, flanked by Aether and Paimon. Their expressions mirrored the urgency of the situation.

“Lady Ningguang!” Keqing called out, breathless. “We came as quickly as we could.”

Cloud Retainer and Shenhe landed gracefully beside them, their eyes widening at the sight of the turbulent sea.

“The beast of the deep is back…” Cloud Retainer murmured, her usually composed demeanor shaken.

Paimon, hovering anxiously near Aether, blurted out, “This is bad! Disaster after disaster—it just can’t stop!”

Ningguang’s mind was already racing with the possibilities. She turned to Momon with a determined look. “We need to go to the Jade Chamber!”

Momon raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “That floating palace?”

“Yes,” Ningguang confirmed, her voice filled with urgency. “The Jade Chamber has the best vantage point over Liyue. We must not let Osial reach the city, or everything will be submerged.”

Momon didn’t hesitate. “Don’t worry. Aether and I will help too.”

Aether nodded firmly, his resolve matching Momon’s. “We’re with you, Ningguang.”

Paimon, however, wasn’t as confident. “Eh, we’re going to fight a god?!” she squeaked, her tiny form trembling with fear.

Momon placed a reassuring hand on Aether’s shoulder, his voice calm but resolute. “We’ve faced impossible odds before, Paimon. We can do this.”

Aether smiled reassuringly at his floating companion. “Momon’s right. We’ve come this far, and we’re not backing down now.”

Ningguang glanced at the group, feeling a surge of hope despite the looming threat. With warriors like Momon, Aether, and the rest by her side, perhaps Liyue stood a chance.

“Then let’s not waste any time,” Ningguang said, her voice carrying the weight of command. “To the Jade Chamber!”

With a simple wave of his hand, Momon muttered, "[Mass Fly]."

Before anyone could react, the entire group felt an unfamiliar sensation lifting them from the ground. They rose into the air, the port of Liyue Harbor shrinking below them. Aether, Paimon, Ningguang, Beidou, Keqing, Ganyu, Cloud Retainer, and Shenhe were all caught off guard by the sudden weightlessness.

Paimon let out a startled yelp, flailing her tiny arms. “Wha—what’s happening?!”

Aether, eyes wide, quickly grabbed her before she floated away. “We’re… flying?”

Beidou looked around, her usual confident grin replaced by a look of astonishment. “Well, I’ll be damned… Didn’t think I’d see the day when I could fly without a ship.”

Keqing’s sharp eyes darted to Momon, the gears turning in her mind as she tried to comprehend the power he wielded. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Ganyu, though amazed, remained focused. “This will get us to the Jade Chamber faster. We should make the most of it.”

Ningguang, who usually prided herself on having all the answers, found herself momentarily speechless. She glanced at Momon, whose expression remained unseen behind the mask. For a moment, she considered asking him how he managed such a feat, but she quickly dismissed the thought. This mysterious figure was doing so much for Liyue—now wasn’t the time to question his methods.

As they landed on the Jade Chamber, Ningguang wasted no time, immediately giving orders to her attendants and setting the vast floating palace into motion. The chamber began to hum with energy as it shifted course, heading directly towards the ominous Guyun Stone Forest.

Aether, still trying to process everything, turned to Ningguang. "So, what’s the plan?"

Ningguang paused for a moment, her gaze resolute. "I’ll sacrifice the Jade Chamber."

Her words hung in the air, heavy and shocking. The group exchanged glances, disbelief and concern etched on their faces.

Paimon’s eyes widened in panic. "Wait, you’re going to destroy the Jade Chamber? But… will that be enough to kill an ancient god?!"

Ganyu stepped forward, her usually composed demeanor cracking under the weight of the situation. "Lady Ningguang, are you sure about this? The Jade Chamber is our last line of defense. If we lose it…"

Ningguang nodded, her expression unwavering. "I’ve prepared for this. From the moment I conceived of the Jade Chamber, I knew a time might come when we’d face a threat beyond our means. That’s why I designed the Jade Chamber not just as a symbol of Liyue’s prosperity, but also as a weapon. It will be our final stand."

Momon, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke up, his tone cold and distant. "That’s a shame."

Ningguang turned to him, confusion and unease flickering in her eyes. She had seen Momon’s terrifying power firsthand, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he meant. "A shame? What do you mean, Momon?"

Momon’s gaze was inscrutable, his expression hidden behind his mask. "You’re willing to destroy your greatest creation, yet you doubt whether it will be enough to defeat Osial. Such a loss… for a gamble."

Beidou, always direct, couldn’t help but ask, "So, what are you suggesting? You have something better in mind?"

Ningguang’s mind raced. This man, this enigma who had saved Liyue Harbor, was offering no clear answers—only hints that he might have something up his sleeve. She didn’t know whether to feel reassured or even more anxious.

Momon strode forward with an air of quiet determination, passing through the gathered group without a word. His presence seemed to command the attention of all around him, drawing their gazes as he approached the edge of the Jade Chamber. The sky above had darkened, the atmosphere heavy with anticipation and the looming threat of Osial.

Without warning, a massive magical circle materialized beneath their feet, radiating an otherworldly glow. The intricate patterns within the circle pulsated with energy, casting a surreal light across the Jade Chamber. At the center of this arcane design stood Momon, his figure calm and imposing. Surrounding him, smaller magical circles began to orbit like planets in a solar system, each one humming with power.

A collective gasp rippled through the group, the sheer scale and complexity of the magic overwhelming their senses. The air buzzed with the intensity of the spell, a force that felt ancient and incomprehensible.

“By the heavens…” Cloud Retainer’s voice trembled with disbelief as she gazed at the phenomenon unfolding before her. Her usual composed demeanor was shaken. “What in the world is this?”

Even Ningguang, who had seen and commanded many wonders in her time, found herself momentarily at a loss for words. The Jade Chamber, a structure of unmatched elegance and strength, now seemed insignificant compared to the power Momon was channeling. She watched in awe as the smaller circles continued their orbit, each one resonating with a different, yet harmonious, frequency.

“This is beyond anything I’ve ever witnessed…” Ganyu whispered, her voice tinged with both fear and admiration. Cloud Retainer, including Shenhe, could only stare in silent astonishment, their previous doubts about Momon’s strength now completely dispelled.

Paimon, clinging to Aether, could barely contain her nerves. “Aether… What is he doing? Is this really going to stop Osial?”

Aether didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on Momon. He had fought gods and monsters, but the sheer scale of what he was witnessing now was unlike anything he had ever encountered. This wasn’t just a display of power; it was something far more profound and terrifying.

Momon stood at the center of the swirling energy, his expression under the mask calmed as if this immense power was merely an extension of himself.

“Aether and all of you-” they listened to Momon. “Buy me some time. This spell will take a few minutes to activate.” said Momon.

“Got it!” said Aether, ready to aid his friend.

The sea beneath the Jade Chamber churned violently, its once-calm surface now a roiling mass of waves that crashed against each other with ferocious intensity. The very air was charged with tension, thick with the impending threat that lurked beneath the water’s surface. The Jade Chamber, suspended in the sky, trembled as if sensing the monstrous presence that was about to emerge.

Then, with a deafening roar that seemed to shake the heavens themselves, the ancient god Osial erupted from the depths. The sea parted in colossal waves, revealing the beast in all its terrifying glory. Five long, serpentine heads broke through the water, each one stretching upward as if trying to pierce the sky. The heads were covered in dark, glistening scales that shimmered ominously in the faint light, their eyes glowing with an ancient and malevolent intelligence.

The sheer size of Osial was almost impossible to comprehend. Each of the serpentine heads towered above the Jade Chamber, casting enormous shadows across the sea. The necks, impossibly long and sinuous, writhed and twisted as the creature adjusted to its newfound freedom. The ocean responded in kind, its waves rising to meet the god’s movements, creating an apocalyptic scene of chaos and destruction.

The roar of Osial reverberated across the battlefield, a sound that was both a challenge and a declaration of its return. The sea god’s very presence seemed to warp reality, bending the elements to its will. Lightning crackled in the storm clouds that had gathered overhead, and the wind howled in response to the beast’s awakening.

Ningguang nodded firmly, her resolve matching the intensity of the situation. "Alright, we are ready, Momon!" she declared, her voice steady despite the chaos around them.

Ningguang and the others exchanged confused glances as the massive magical circle beneath their feet vanished without a trace. The intricate symbols and radiant energy that had surrounded Momon moments ago were gone, leaving the group standing on the edge of the Jade Chamber with a sense of bewilderment. They had braced themselves for some overwhelming display of power, but now all they could do was stare at Momon in confusion.

Momon, however, seemed completely unfazed. With a calmness that belied the chaos around them, he raised his hand and pointed directly at the monstrous figure of Osial, the ancient god whose five serpent heads loomed menacingly above the turbulent sea.

“That’s it? That’s the god?” Momon’s voice, laced with disappointment, cut through the tension like a knife.

Ningguang blinked, her mind racing to comprehend what he meant. "What do you mean, Momon? Osial is an ancient god—one of the most powerful entities ever sealed away by Rex Lapis."

Aether, gripping his sword tightly, looked equally baffled. "What do you mean, ‘that’s it’?”

Momon turned slightly, casting a glance back at Aether and the others, his expression one of mild indifference. “I was expecting something more... formidable. This creature hardly lives up to the title of ‘god’ in my eyes.”

Beidou, who had been preparing herself for the fight of her life, raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying you can take it down that easily?”

Momon didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he shifted his stance, his presence exuding an aura of calm control. “Just watch.”

Momon’s body rocketed off the edge of the Jade Chamber like a speeding bullet, the sheer force of his launch creating a powerful shockwave that rippled through the air. The impact was so intense that those on the Jade Chamber had to brace themselves against the force, shielding their eyes as the wind howled around them.

Beidou instinctively raised an arm to block the gust, her eyes widening in shock. "What the—?"

Ningguang staggered but quickly regained her balance, her gaze locked on the streak of dark energy hurtling toward Osial. "He's… he's faster than anything I've ever seen," she muttered, awe mingling with disbelief.

Aether crouched low, anchoring himself as the shockwave passed, while Paimon clung to his shoulder, her wings fluttering wildly in the turbulent air. "What kind of power is that?!" Paimon exclaimed, her voice tinged with both fear and amazement.

Cloud Retainer and Shenhe, both accustomed to the incredible feats of the Adepti, found themselves equally stunned. The sheer speed and power that Momon displayed were unlike anything they had ever witnessed. Even for beings as ancient and powerful as they were, this was on another level entirely.

Momon hurtled through the air, a streak of darkness against the stormy sky, his eyes locked onto the colossal form of Osial. The hydra god, with its five serpentine heads towering over the sea, roared in defiance, sensing the approaching threat. But before it could react, Momon was upon it.

He crashed into one of Osial’s heads with the force of a meteor, the impact sending a shockwave through the air that made the previous one seem like a mere breeze. The serpent’s massive form recoiled, its roar turning into a pained shriek as Momon’s dark energy enveloped it.

From the Jade Chamber, the others could only watch in awe as Momon began his assault on the ancient god. Each strike he delivered sent ripples through the sea, the power of his attacks reverberating through the air.

"This is beyond anything we imagined…" Ganyu whispered, her voice barely audible over the roaring wind and crashing waves.

Momon floated in the air, his gaze fixed on the writhing form of Osial below. The ancient god, despite the devastating impact of Momon's initial assault, was already beginning to regenerate, its serpentine heads reforming with a grotesque swiftness. The sight of Osial's resilience might have been enough to discourage any ordinary warrior, but Momon’s expression remained unreadable behind his mask, devoid of any concern.

"Oh, I know just the spell to put you to sleep—forever," Momon said, his voice cold and unwavering.

He raised his hand, and the very air around him seemed to tremble in response. “[Maximize Magic - Cruel Angel],” he intoned, his voice carrying the weight of an inevitable doom.

From the heavens, a colossal pillar of searing light materialized, burning with an intensity that outshone the sun. It descended upon Osial with the speed of a falling star, its brilliance casting long shadows over the sea and the Jade Chamber.

Osial, the ancient hydra god who had once brought terror to the lands, had no time to react. The burning pillar struck with an earth-shattering force, piercing through Osial’s regenerating form like a divine blade. The impact was so profound that the sea itself seemed to bow beneath the weight of the attack, waves parting as the pillar drove Osial deep into the ocean’s depths.

Then, silence.

For a brief moment, the world held its breath as the pillar of light anchored itself in the ocean. And then it exploded.

The explosion was nothing short of cataclysmic. A blinding light consumed the horizon, and the resulting shockwave radiated outward, tearing through the skies and churning the sea into a frenzy. Ningguang, Beidou, Aether, and the others in the Jade Chamber instinctively raised their arms to shield their eyes, the sheer brilliance of the explosion overwhelming their senses. The Jade Chamber itself shuddered, its powerful structure straining against the force unleashed by Momon’s spell.

Down below, in Liyue Harbor, the citizens watched in awe and terror as shockwave after shockwave pounded the shores. The waters of the harbor roiled violently, sending massive waves crashing against the docks. The force of the explosion was so immense that it sent tremors across the region, with the echoes of Momon’s power reaching even the distant shores of Inazuma and Sumeru.

In the aftermath, the sea was left eerily still, the once-mighty form of Osial now nothing more than a memory. The burning pillar had left no trace of the ancient god, its destructive power having obliterated every fragment of Osial’s existence. The only remnants were the ripples spreading across the ocean’s surface as if the sea itself was trying to recover from the devastation it had just witnessed.

Momon descended slowly from the sky, landing on the edge of the Jade Chamber with an almost casual grace. His presence, once again, cast a heavy shadow over those around him, the sheer magnitude of his power leaving everyone speechless.

Ningguang, her usual composure shattered, stared at him in disbelief. The others—Beidou, Aether, Ganyu, and even Cloud Retainer—could do little more than share stunned glances.

Momon’s power was not just overwhelming; it was catastrophic and terrifying. He had not only defeated an ancient god but had done so with an ease that left no doubt about the true extent of his strength.

The people of Liyue, the distant lands of Inazuma and Sumeru, all now bore witness to the terrifying might of Momon—a power that could reshape the very world itself.

"See, it’s done," Momon said with a tone of casual indifference, as if obliterating an ancient god was no more difficult than taking a stroll through the park.

Ningguang stared at him, her mind struggling to process the sheer magnitude of what had just occurred. It was as if she were looking at a force of nature rather than a man. The Jade Chamber, designed to be Liyue’s ultimate defense, suddenly felt small and insignificant in comparison to the power Momon had just unleashed.

Beidou, normally unflappable, was uncharacteristically quiet, her usual bravado muted by the reality of what she had just witnessed. "You... you make it look so easy," she finally managed, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Aether exchanged a look with Paimon, who was still trembling from the shockwaves. "Paimon can’t believe what just happened..." Paimon whispered, her voice barely above a squeak.

Momon turned to face them, his expression unreadable beneath his mask. "It needed to be done," he replied simply as if the matter was already forgotten.

Cloud Retainer, who had been watching from a distance, finally spoke, her voice carrying a note of awe. "One has never witnessed such power... Not even in the oldest of tales."

Ningguang, regaining some of her composure, took a deep breath and stepped forward. "Liyue owes you a debt that can never be repaid, Momon. You saved us from a disaster that would have consumed the entire city."

"No problem at all, Ningguang. But I have to admit, the fact that you considered using this magnificent flying palace as a weapon really bothered me," Momon remarked, his tone light but with an edge of critique.

Ningguang, ever composed, managed a small, graceful smile despite the lingering tension. "I am honored that the great Honorary Knight holds the Jade Chamber in such high regard," she replied, her voice as smooth as silk. "It is a marvel of both design and functionality. Given your prowess and the role you’ve played today, I may well extend an invitation to you to visit this place as if it were your own house.”

Momon nodded, his gaze lingering on the Jade Chamber for a moment before returning to Ningguang. "It’s a fine place, no doubt. But I prefer to keep my home on solid ground. Still, I’ll keep your invitation in mind."

Ningguang’s smile widened slightly, a hint of relief in her eyes. "I look forward to it. Liyue is in your debt, Momon. Your presence here has changed the course of our history."

As the last remnants of the shockwaves from the battle with Osial faded into the distance, Keqing made her way over to Aether, who was standing near the edge of the Jade Chamber, his gaze still fixed on the horizon where the sea had once roiled with fury.

“Hey,” Keqing began, her tone carrying a note of genuine admiration, “your friend is pretty awesome. I’ve never seen such power before.”

Aether nodded, still somewhat awed by the events. “He truly is. I’m actually shocked by his power and the ease with which he handles such overwhelming situations. It’s not something you encounter every day.”

Keqing glanced over at Momon, who was conversing with Ningguang and the others. “Seems like you two have recently become friends, then?”

Aether smiled, his eyes reflecting the complex emotions of the day. “More like comrades, but yes. We met in Mondstadt during the time when the nation was struggling with Stormterror. Momon was a crucial ally in that conflict.”

As they spoke, Paimon fluttered up beside them, her eyes wide with excitement. “Wanna know something even more surprising?”

“What’s that?” Keqing asked, curious.

Paimon leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Momon is actually not human. We don’t even know what he truly is.”

Keqing’s eyebrows arched in surprise. She turned to Aether, her gaze searching. “Is that so? And here I thought he was just an incredibly powerful human.”

Aether’s expression grew serious. “Paimon, remember that Momon doesn’t prefer to talk about this topic. It’s a sensitive subject for him, so we should respect his privacy regarding it.”

Keqing nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. “I see. It’s clear that there’s much more to him than meets the eye. In any case, his actions today have certainly made a lasting impression.”

Paimon nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah, he’s done so much for Liyue. Even if we don’t know everything about him, I’m grateful he’s on our side.”

Keqing nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Understood. It’s just… after everything that’s happened, I’m trying to piece together the puzzle of what’s really going on.”

Aether placed a reassuring hand on Paimon’s tiny shoulder. “I get it. There’s a lot of mystery surrounding Momon, but he’s been a great ally and a powerful force for good. That’s what matters most right now.”

Cloud Retainer stood a short distance away, her eyes observing the interactions between the others with a mixture of relief and unease. Her transformation had not only made her appearance stunning but had also sharpened her senses to the intricacies of the conversations happening around her.

As Aether and Keqing continued their discussion, Cloud Retainer’s thoughts swirled with the revelations about Momon. She was grateful that the mysterious figure was not an extraordinary human, as she had feared. Yet, this newfound knowledge did little to ease her anxiety.

The problem lay in the ambiguity surrounding Momon’s true nature. To Cloud Retainer, who had long held firm beliefs about the nature of beings in Teyvat, Momon was an enigma—a being who defied easy classification.

Cloud Retainer mulled over the possibilities: A dragon, perhaps, with powers beyond mortal comprehension? A spirit, embodying forces ancient and primordial? Or, most troubling of all, a demon—given the sheer destructiveness of Momon’s magic and the ruthless efficiency with which he had dealt with Osial.

Her mind kept returning to the image of Momon’s battle—a display of raw, cataclysmic power that had reshaped the very fabric of their world. The way he had effortlessly obliterated Osial, sending shockwaves across nations, only deepened her fears. The closest comparison in her mind was a demon—a being of terrifying might and indifference to the collateral damage wrought upon the world.

Cloud Retainer’s gaze hardened as she thought about the implications. Such a being, if left unchecked, could pose a significant threat to all of Teyvat. Yet, the respect Momon commanded from Ningguang and the others, coupled with his apparent willingness to assist, added layers of complexity to her understanding.

Despite her wariness, she resolved to remain vigilant and cautious. The safety of Liyue and the balance of their world depended not only on their ability to confront external threats but also on their capacity to understand and, if necessary, contain unknown entities like Momon.

Chapter Text

It had been a few days since the battle with the Adepti and Osial, and Liyue Harbor was slowly but surely returning to its usual rhythm. The streets that had once been marred by conflict and chaos now buzzed with the hum of everyday life. Merchants called out to passersby, children ran freely along the cobblestone streets, and the aroma of freshly made delicacies wafted from the bustling food stalls. The sense of danger that had loomed over the city was now but a distant memory, replaced by an air of resilience and recovery.

Visitors from distant lands had flocked to Liyue, eager to witness the aftermath of the extraordinary events that had shaken the city to its core. They wandered the streets, some with wide-eyed curiosity, others with respectful reverence. News of the Geo Archon's death, the sudden eruption of a civil war between the Liyue Qixing and the Adepti, and the terrifying awakening of the ancient god Osial had spread like wildfire across Teyvat. What astonished most was not that so many catastrophes had unfolded in such a short time, but that the city of Liyue was still standing—stronger than ever, it seemed.
Meanwhile, down in the bustling streets, Aether and Paimon walked through the marketplace, greeted by smiles and waves from the citizens of Liyue. Many recognized them as the heroes who had fought by Ningguang’s side, and their presence was met with respect and admiration.
“Liyue seems a lot more peaceful now, huh?” Paimon said, hovering close to Aether’s side. “It’s hard to believe we were fighting a giant hydra god just a few days ago!”
Aether smiled slightly. “Yeah, it’s surreal. But I’m glad everyone’s safe. Liyue is strong, and its people are even stronger.”
As they walked, Aether noticed a small crowd gathered near a makeshift memorial for Rex Lapis. Offerings of flowers and incense were laid before a statue of the Geo Archon, and citizens knelt in silent prayer. Despite the city’s return to normalcy, the loss of their god still weighed heavily on the hearts of many.
“Rex Lapis…” Aether whispered, his eyes soft with sympathy. “Even though he’s gone, his people still carry his legacy with them.”
Paimon floated closer, her usual cheer quieted by the solemn sight. “It’s strange to think about… An Archon who has ruled for thousands of years, just… gone. I wonder what will happen to Liyue in the long run.”
Before Aether could respond, a familiar voice interrupted their thoughts. “Hey, you two!”
Turning, they saw Beidou striding through the marketplace with her usual confidence, a grin on her face. “I see you’re taking in the sights. The city’s looking good, eh?”
Aether nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, Liyue’s recovering faster than I thought.”
Beidou chuckled. “This place has seen its fair share of troubles, but nothing keeps it down for long. It’s like the waves, always crashing but never breaking.”
As the three of them walked together, Paimon turned her gaze towards the sea. “So, what’s next for Liyue? With Osial gone and the Archon gone too, do you think things will settle down?”
Beidou’s smile faded slightly, her eyes scanning the horizon. “I wouldn’t count on peace just yet. The sea’s calm now, but there are always storms brewing somewhere. We’ll have to stay vigilant.”
Aether glanced at Beidou, noticing a hint of concern in her usually carefree demeanor. “Do you think more trouble is coming?”
Beidou shrugged, her grin returning, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Maybe, maybe not. But that’s life on the sea, right? You never know what’s coming next.”
Beidou scanned the bustling marketplace, her sharp eyes searching the crowd. “Where is Momon?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. It was unusual for someone as powerful and prominent as him to disappear without a trace, especially after all that had happened.

Aether looked around, equally puzzled. “I don’t know where he went, but we’ll meet up again later, I’m sure,” he replied, though he couldn’t shake the feeling of mystery surrounding Momon. The enigmatic warrior had a way of vanishing and reappearing when least expected.

Beidou laughed heartily, her voice booming through the streets as she crossed her arms. “Haha, your friend is a real big hit right now. Ningguang’s got her claws into him, I bet. She’s not letting him go until all the big work is done. The Jade Chamber might be safe, but Liyue’s got more rebuilding to do, and she’s the kind of woman who gets things done.”

Aether smirked, nodding. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised. He’s made quite an impression on everyone here.”

Paimon floated up, chiming in, “Well, with the kind of power he showed, it’s no wonder! Did you see how he dealt with Osial? He didn’t even break a sweat!”

Beidou shook her head in amazement, her expression a mix of admiration and curiosity. “You know, I’ve met a lot of strong folks in my time, but Momon… he’s on a whole different level. It’s hard to wrap your head around just what he’s capable of. And trust me, if Ningguang’s got him under her thumb for the time being, she’s gonna make sure to get the most out of him.”

Aether chuckled, though he couldn’t help but wonder what Momon might be up to now. “Knowing him, he’s probably already on to the next challenge.”

Beidou grinned. “Well, if there’s anyone who can handle the tough stuff, it’s him. But hey, when you do catch up with him, let him know I owe him a drink! After everything that’s happened, I think we all deserve a little break.”

On the other hand, Momon has been invited by Ningguang to the Jade Chamber for an important discussion.

Ningguang sat elegantly at her desk, her sharp gaze tracking Momon as he moved around the room, examining her collection of ancient artifacts. The Jade Chamber was filled with treasures from across the ages—scrolls, weapons, trinkets, and items rich with history. It was rare for anyone to show such an interest in her personal collection, and she found herself intrigued by how carefully Momon examined each piece.

She watched as he stopped at a scroll, carefully unrolling it. Then, to her surprise, he pulled out a pair of glasses, which he placed over his mask, the lenses resting oddly on the eye slits. It was an unusual sight, and Ningguang couldn’t help but let a soft smile tug at her lips.

“So, what do you think about my collections, Momon?” she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity. She had never met anyone like him before, and she was eager to hear his thoughts.

Momon remained silent for a moment, his fingers brushing over the scroll’s delicate parchment as he read through it. Then, he spoke in his deep, measured tone. “Quite fascinating, Ningguang. I’m also a collector myself,” he said, his words deliberate, as if he was truly impressed.

“Is that right? I’m happy to hear that we both share the same hobby…” Ningguang replied, a hint of excitement in her voice. Her appreciation for fine artifacts was one of the few things she cherished deeply, and finding someone who could appreciate them as she did was rare. Then, she glanced at the glasses perched on his mask and couldn’t help but ask, “Momon, do you have bad vision?”

She had seen many powerful figures in her time, but the image of a warrior as mighty as Momon needing glasses to read struck her as unusual, almost humorous. She had to ask, even if it felt a bit out of place.

Momon carefully rolled the scroll back up, placing it exactly where he found it before removing the glasses and tucking them away. “Not at all,” he replied calmly. “These glasses help me translate languages I cannot read.”

Ningguang’s eyes widened in awe. “An item like that… it’s remarkable,” she breathed, stepping closer, her usual composed demeanor slipping for a moment. “I can’t believe something like that exists. An item that can translate languages? It’s invaluable!”

Momon turned to her, his gaze unreadable behind his mask. “Indeed. It is a great and useful artifact.”

Ningguang’s mind raced, her thoughts immediately calculating the possibilities of such an item. "With a tool like that... you could understand ancient texts and relics from long-forgotten civilizations. It could unlock secrets we thought lost forever," she said, marveling at the potential.

“While ancient artifacts are amazing, my actual hobby is to collect magic items. For example…” Momon put his hand on a small portal circle and took out a few rings. Ningguang was surprised and confused, wondering where the hell his arm had disappeared.

“This ring gives the ability to fly for a few hours, this one can give night vision, this one can remove the need to eat and drink, this removes the need to sleep, this gives protection from the cold.” Ningguangs eyes were shining from these items.

“These are wonderful items, Momon, which might cost millions of Mora," she said, still amazed by what she had witnessed. "You must have ventured into dangerous places for you to need those magic items.”

Ningguang’s sharp gaze remained fixed on Momon as the magical rings disappeared from sight. She leaned forward, intrigued by the shift in the conversation. There was something about the sudden seriousness in Momon’s tone that commanded her full attention.

Momon didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he turned, his gaze falling on the large map of Liyue that adorned the wall of the Jade Chamber. He studied it for a moment, his posture tense but composed as if considering something deeper.

“Ningguang,” Momon finally spoke, his voice quieter but filled with a contemplative weight. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Ningguang’s curiosity piqued. She lifted an eyebrow, a subtle but unmistakable signal that she was ready to listen. There was something in Momon’s tone that suggested this question carried more weight than idle curiosity.

“What is it?” she asked, her own thoughts already racing, anticipating what could be on his mind.

Momon’s eyes remained on the map, his hand brushing lightly against the edge of the table as he continued. “Don’t you find it suspicious that such a tragic event—Rex Lapis’ death, the civil unrest, the awakening of Osial—happened so casually? Or was it planned?”

The question lingered in the air, heavy with implication.

Ningguang’s expression shifted, her usually serene demeanor clouded with thought. “I strongly believe it was planned, Momon,” she admitted, her voice laced with a seriousness that matched his.

Momon slowly nodded as if he had expected her answer. He turned to face her, his crimson points burning with conviction behind his mask. "The Fatui... I believe they are behind all of this."

Ningguang straightened slightly at the mention of the notorious organization. The Fatui are ambitious, calculating, and willing to do anything to further their goals. Yet, even with all her knowledge and connections, the full extent of their plans often remained obscured. But this? This was different.

“Are you sure, Momon?” she asked, her voice calm but her eyes narrowing with a new edge of suspicion.

Momon crossed his arms, his gaze never leaving hers. "In Mondstadt, a Fatui Harbinger attacked the Anemo Archon and stole his Gnosis. They orchestrated everything in secret while playing the long game.”

Ningguang’s eyes widened slightly as the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together. She knew the Fatui were always meddling in Liyue’s affairs, but this revelation, this scope of their ambition, took her by surprise.

"Wait... you mean..." she began, her mind racing ahead, trying to grasp the full gravity of the situation.

“Yes," Momon confirmed, his voice steady and low. "I think the Geo Archon was their second target. But..." He paused, his tone now carrying a hint of uncertainty. "I have no idea if they succeeded in stealing the Gnosis.”

Ningguang stood in silent thought, her gaze drifting towards the distant horizon as if seeking answers in the vast nothingness before her. The troubling news about the Golden House lingered in her mind—guards had been found unconscious, yet no one knew for certain what had been stolen. It was odd, to say the least, but with the chaos Liyue had endured in recent days, she had been forced to delegate certain tasks. Another Qixing had been entrusted to investigate the incident, but the unsettling mystery still gnawed at her.

Her voice, when she finally spoke, was laced with a simmering anger. "Those bastards," she muttered, fists tightening at her sides. "They must answer for this crime. The Gnosis of the Geo Archon... it is the only artifact in all of Teyvat that can infinitely create Mora for the entire continent."

Momon, standing nearby, was silent but deep in thought. His mind worked quickly, calculating and questioning the intricacies of this world’s economy. "An artifact that can create an infinite supply of currency... how is it possible that Liyue doesn’t suffer from rampant inflation?" he wondered to himself. It defied the basic principles of economics as he understood them. "If one nation could endlessly produce Mora, wouldn't its value collapse over time?"

But the more he thought about it, the more he realized he couldn’t bring himself to ask Ningguang such a question. This world was governed by its own unique laws—laws that didn’t always adhere to the logic of his own world where he comes from. Here, gods walked among mortals, and artifacts wielded powers that could reshape nations. What he perceived as inconsistencies might simply be the natural order in this realm.

Momon raised a hand, his tone measured and cautious. "Look, maybe I could be wrong. I don’t want to destroy diplomatic ties between nations by jumping to conclusions. You should tread carefully when investigating the Fatui."

Ningguang smiled softly, her composed demeanor unwavering despite the gravity of the situation. She stepped away from her desk, her delicate fingers lightly tapping on the surface as she moved closer to him. "No, no, no, no… please, don’t worry, Momon," she said, her voice steady but with a hint of gratitude. "I should be thanking you. You've given me vital information that could bring us closer to uncovering the true culprit behind Rex Lapis' assassination."

Her eyes sparkled with sharp intellect, but there was also a deep sense of resolve. Ningguang wasn’t one to shy away from the complexities of politics or the risks involved in dealing with powerful factions like the Fatui. But now that Momon had shared his suspicions, she was armed with a crucial piece of the puzzle—a lead that could direct her investigation and protect Liyue from further manipulation.

"Rest assured," she continued, her tone becoming more formal, "I will handle this with the utmost care. Diplomatic ties are fragile, especially with an organization as influential as the Fatui. But if they are truly involved, we must expose their role without igniting unnecessary conflict."

As Momon stood before Ningguang, he could feel her eyes on him, studying his every move with the precision of a tactician. Ningguang wasn’t one to waste time—each word she spoke seemed carefully chosen, each gesture deliberate. She moved closer, her presence assertive yet graceful, making it clear that this conversation was more than just about rewards.

"Alright, Ningguang. Now, my next question is… why was I summoned here?" Momon asked, his voice steady but laced with curiosity. He noticed how Ningguang subtly angled herself closer, almost as if trying to draw him into her orbit. It wasn’t forceful, but there was a quiet intensity to her actions.

Ningguang tilted her head slightly, her eyes locking onto his masked visage. "Yes, I asked for you to come alone, Momon," she began, her voice soft yet firm. "I wanted to know if there was anything you desired from me. I don’t think Mora alone could ever satisfy someone of your stature—not after all you’ve done for Liyue."

Momon stood still, processing her words. He couldn’t help but think back to a similar conversation with Jean in Mondstadt. He smiled faintly beneath his mask, remembering how strange it felt then as it did now. "You know, I remember in Mondstadt, Jean asked me the same thing."

Ningguang raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh?" She folded her arms gently, her curiosity piqued. "So that’s why you own Old Mondstadt and Dragonspine," she said, her lips curling into a slight smile, clearly impressed by his negotiations in the neighboring nation.

Momon waved a hand dismissively. "Well, nobody lives or wants to live there," he said, as if brushing off the significance. "One day, I’m going to clean those lands from the monsters and build something that might benefit the nation of Mondstadt."

"That could be quite profitable in the long run," Ningguang mused, her eyes gleaming with approval. "Turning dangerous, untamed land into something valuable... you have quite the vision, Momon." Her admiration was evident, though it was laced with her usual shrewdness. She could already see the potential in what he was describing.

Then, with a sly smile, she posed the question that had been lingering. "So… what part of Liyue would you like to own?" she asked, her voice silkier now, as if she already anticipated his response.

Momon blinked, taken aback for a moment. The same situation with Jean, now repeating with Ningguang—it was almost uncanny. He hadn’t expected this. He glanced away briefly, unsure how to navigate the sudden generosity being thrust upon him. "Ningguang, please…" His voice trailed off, an uncharacteristic hesitation in his tone. He wasn’t used to this kind of praise, much less the offer of land.

Ningguang, sensing his discomfort, took a step closer, her voice becoming more soothing but no less persuasive. "I would feel terrible if the hero of Liyue didn’t accept our gift," she said, her gaze unwavering. There was no backing down in her eyes—this was Liyue's way, a gesture of honor, and Momon knew she wouldn’t let him refuse.

He sighed inwardly, realizing there was no way around it. "Alright," he said at last, his tone resigned yet thoughtful. "If that helps you, then I shall accept this gift." He paused for a moment, looking at the expansive map of Liyue on the wall. His eyes scanned the coastline until they landed on a group of islands shrouded in mystery. "I’ll take those islands… I heard you called them the Guyun Stone Forest."

Ningguang’s smile broadened, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "Oh? So you’ve still chosen a land full of monsters," she chuckled, her amusement shining through. "Of course you would." There was no mockery in her tone—just an understanding that Momon, in his enigmatic way, sought challenges rather than comfort.

Momon shrugged slightly. "Well, that’s even better, I guess." He met her gaze again, this time with more confidence. "A place like that will keep me occupied. Besides, taming a land of monsters is far more interesting than settling in some peaceful, uneventful plot of land."

Ningguang’s smile lingered as she studied him closely. There was something about Momon—his calmness in the face of danger, his calculated moves, his detachment from the usual trappings of power—that intrigued her. She knew he wasn’t like the others who sought influence or wealth. His ambitions were different, deeper, perhaps more dangerous. Yet, she couldn’t help but be drawn to that unknown.

Ningguang nodded, satisfied. "I’ll make sure the necessary arrangements are made," she said. "Consider the Guyun Stone Forest yours. And should you need anything—resources, assistance—do not hesitate to ask. Liyue will support your efforts, and I… well, I will be watching with great interest."

Momon turned to face her fully, his eyes meeting hers through the mask. "Thank you, Ningguang," he said, his voice sincere but measured. "I appreciate your generosity."

With that, the conversation turned to more practical matters—arrangements, legalities, and logistics. But beneath it all, both of them knew that this exchange marked something far more significant. Momon had now tied himself to Liyue, and Ningguang had secured the loyalty of a “man” who could change the fate of nations.

Momon descended from the heights of the Jade Chamber, a silhouette against the blue sky, as he activated his spell [Perfect Unknowable]. Instantly, he melded into the shadows of the bustling Liyue Harbor, a place alive with the chatter of merchants and the clamor of life. The world moved around him, oblivious to his presence.

With purpose, he scanned the streets, searching for Aether and Paimon. After a brief moment, a familiar small figure caught his eye—Paimon, flitting like a restless firefly, her excitement palpable even from a distance. She trailed closely behind Aether, who appeared to be in good spirits, his golden hair catching the sunlight as he moved with a newfound energy. They were heading up a set of worn stone stairs, their laughter echoing softly.

Momon felt a flicker of confusion. They seemed genuinely happy, an unexpected sight considering the weight of recent events. It intrigued him, and he felt compelled to follow. With silent steps, he trailed them, the city unfolding around him, each turn and alley familiar yet distant as he focused solely on the two.

As they reached the top of the stairs, Momon observed a grand building adorned with intricate designs. Above the entrance, characters glimmered in a script he could not decipher. It felt important, maybe even sacred, but he dismissed the thought for now; his priority was the two he was following.

Aether pushed the door open, and Paimon bounded inside, her voice a cheerful whisper that faded as the door swung shut. Now alone on the threshold, Momon hesitated. The spell that kept him unseen was effective, but he needed to enter without revealing himself. He knew opening the door with no one visible to push it would draw unwanted attention.

A plan formed in his mind as he considered his options. Summoning his magic, he invoked [Immaterial Form], a spell that granted him the ability to slip through solid objects as if he were a wraith. The sensation was peculiar; he felt himself become weightless, the world around him shifting slightly as he transitioned from the physical to the ethereal.

Momon approached the door, his form shimmering momentarily before merging seamlessly with the wall. He glided through, finding himself within the dimly lit interior. The air was thick with anticipation and the scent of incense, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken thoughts.

As Momon stood silently in the shadows, concealed by his powerful spell [Perfect Unknowable], the tension in the air thickened. The massive room, which resembled a grand bank hall with vaulted ceilings and polished marble floors, felt stifling despite its open space. The soft echo of voices reverberated off the walls, and Momon, hidden just beyond the edges of perception, listened intently to the conversation unfolding.

A voice broke the uneasy quiet. “...Oh, it seems some of your friends have arrived.” The sultry, dangerous tone belonged to a woman, dripping with arrogance and menace. Momon’s heart skipped a beat, his sharp mind racing. Had he been discovered? But no—her words weren’t meant for him. He remained undetected, his presence utterly masked from even the most perceptive beings in the room.

Before him stood three figures, and Momon’s nonexistent eyes widened in shock and recognition. The woman who had spoken was none other than Signora, the same Fatui Harbinger who had stolen the Gnosis from Venti, the Anemo Archon. Her presence alone carried an aura of power and cruelty, her crimson lips curled into a smirk as she took in the scene with detached amusement.

Standing near her was the red-haired man Momon had seen earlier, casually conversing with Aether and Paimon just before the battle with the Adepti. Another Harbinger—dangerous but with a playful demeanor that belied his lethal skill. His eyes glinted with mischief as if this entire situation was little more than a game to him.

But it was the third figure who caught Momon’s attention the most. A tall, imposing man who exuded an air of wisdom and nobility, his every movement deliberate and refined. His regal bearing and rich attire marked him as someone of immense importance, but there was something about him that set Momon on edge. His appearance was calm, composed, and yet there was an unsettling undercurrent to him—something Momon couldn’t quite place, but it whispered of ancient power.

Aether, who had walked into this unexpected confrontation with Paimon, froze. His eyes widened in disbelief as he recognized the trio before him. His grip tightened around his sword, the blade gleaming under the low light of the chamber’s lanterns.

“Childe… Mister Zhongli?” Aether’s voice wavered slightly, uncertainty and alarm creeping into his tone. His gaze quickly shifted to the dangerous woman standing confidently beside them, and his heart pounded in his chest. “Signora?”

The Fatui Harbinger laughed softly, the sound filled with mockery and dark amusement. She didn’t seem fazed by the tension in the room, her eyes flickering over Aether with cold amusement. "My, my, it's you two. It’s been a few days since our last encounter in the City of Bards.” Her voice was smooth, her words tinged with disdain as if Aether’s presence was nothing more than a mild inconvenience to her.

Aether’s panic turned to anger as he quickly drew his sword, the sharp blade catching the light. He stepped forward, placing himself protectively in front of Paimon, who was hovering nervously behind him. “You... What are you doing here?” Aether demanded, his eyes locked on Signora. “Trusting a Fatui Harbinger… I’m not making that mistake ever again.”

Signora smirked, unfazed by Aether’s challenge. “How naive,” she mused, her voice laced with superiority.

Childe, leaning casually against one of the ornate pillars, chuckled his carefree demeanor a stark contrast to the growing tension. “This is a bit awkward… wouldn’t you say?” He glanced between Aether and Signora with a playful grin, as if the entire situation amused him. “But come on, Aether. It’s not like I’ve ever had anything personal against you.” His tone was light, almost teasing, though there was an underlying edge of danger in his words.

Aether’s jaw clenched in frustration, his eyes flicking from Childe to Signora and then to Zhongli, who had yet to say a word. “You’re all working together… What is this? Some kind of trap?” he accused, his sword still poised and ready to strike.

From his invisible vantage point, Momon observed the scene, his sharp mind piecing together the unsettling truth. "So Aether has no idea what’s really going on here..." he thought to himself. "Good." His protective instincts kicked in as he watched the interaction unfold, ready to intervene if things escalated. But for now, he remained in the shadows, unseen, unheard, his presence a silent guardian watching over Aether and Paimon.

Signora stepped forward, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor, her eyes gleaming with malice. “You’re a bold one, I’ll give you that. But you’re woefully outmatched.” Her smile was sharp, her words laced with venom as she taunted Aether.

Paimon, sensing the danger, whispered urgently to Aether, “Aether, we need to get out of here… This doesn’t feel right.”

But before Aether could respond, Zhongli finally spoke, his deep, authoritative voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Enough.” His tone was calm, and measured, but it carried a weight that silenced the room. All eyes turned to him as he regarded the situation with a gaze that seemed to see far beyond the present moment. “There is no need for violence here.” His eyes briefly met Aether’s, and for a moment, there was an unspoken understanding between them, though it did little to ease the uncertainty in the air.

Momon’s unease deepened as he watched Zhongli, that lingering feeling of something being "off" gnawing at him. “Who the hell is this guy?”

"See, Aether," Childe said with an almost casual tone, "even Mister Zhongli doesn’t want us throwing blades at each other. Just chill out, man. We all have different views, that’s all." He shrugged, his gaze flicking to Signora and Zhongli as if this entire situation were no more than an inconvenient meeting. "Still, that’s up to you, though. But the real business here—" he nodded toward the two standing across from them, "—is between these two."

Aether hesitated, the confusion on his face giving way to anger. "What do you mean, ‘real business’? What are you two scheming now?" His eyes darted between Childe, Signora, and Zhongli, suspicion mounting in his mind.

Signora, exuding an aura of cruel confidence, shot Childe a withering glance. "Stop wasting our time, Childe," she snapped. "There will be plenty of time to chat once I’m done here." Her gaze then fixed on Zhongli, her eyes narrowing with a predatory glint. "Now, Morax," she continued, her voice dripping with authority, "you remember the agreement. The Tsaritsa demands the Gnosis."

The words struck like a thunderclap, freezing the air in the room. Morax? Aether's mind raced, trying to comprehend what he just heard. His eyes widened in disbelief, and beside him, Paimon hovered in stunned silence.

"Morax?" Paimon's small voice broke through the tension, incredulous and confused. "The Gnosis? Wait—Mister Zhongli… you… you're the Geo Archon?!"

Zhongli turned his gaze away from Aether and Paimon, his expression unreadable, yet tinged with a solemn finality. Slowly, he faced Signora. His calm, measured voice cut through the room like a stone falling into still water. "Things did not go as planned…" he began, his words carrying the weight of millennia of history, "yet the contract is fulfilled. My promise is solid as stone."

Without further hesitation, Zhongli reached into his robe and pulled out the Gnosis—a glowing, intricate object that radiated immense power. The object that was the very heart of his divine authority. Aether stared in disbelief, watching as the man he had come to trust Zhongli revealed himself to be so much more—Morax, the god of Geo, the very deity who had ruled over Liyue for thousands of years.

Zhongli handed the Gnosis to Signora with a quiet, almost resigned dignity. The Fatui Harbinger took the precious object with a cold, satisfied smile, her eyes gleaming with victory. The exchange was so simple, so methodical, and yet it carried the weight of a world-shattering revelation.

Paimon, still reeling from the shock, stammered, “So… all this time… Mister Zhongli, you… you were the Geo Archon?”

Zhongli nodded, but his expression remained calm, betraying no emotion. "Indeed," he said, his voice steady. "But this, too, was a part of the contract. And now, it is time for me to step down as the ruler of Liyue."

Signora’s voice dripped with contempt as she admired the Gnosis in her hand, its power glimmering in the dim light of the room. “Now this was successful diplomacy…” she mused, her red lips curling into a triumphant smirk. But her satisfaction didn’t last long, and she turned her sharp gaze back toward Zhongli. “Still, I understand you, Morax. If it weren’t for that troublesome companion of yours…” Her eyes shifted coldly toward Aether, her expression hardening. “Morax could have completed this plan peacefully, like an old man settling into retirement.”

Aether’s heart skipped a beat. He knew exactly who she was referring to. Momon. His presence loomed large even when unseen. The mere mention of him set a chill through the room.

“By the Tsaritsa,” Childe muttered, scratching the back of his head with an air of unease. His normally carefree demeanor faltered for a moment, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Where did that guy even come from?” He cast a sideways glance at Aether as if trying to decipher the mystery of Momon. As much as Childe loved a good fight, the memory of Momon’s raw power—his effortless defeat of the Adepti and the crushing annihilation of the Overlord of the Vortex—was still fresh in his mind. It was enough to make even Childe hesitate.

Childe’s thoughts wandered to Capitano, the strongest among the Fatui Harbingers. “Even with all my strength, I’m not sure… could even he defeat Momon?” The idea lingered in his mind, stirring both intrigue and a tinge of fear. Childe had never met a foe whose power felt so unreachable, so devastating.

Signora’s cold laugh broke the silence. “There’s no information on him,” she said darkly, her eyes gleaming with a mix of fascination and disdain. “But I’m certain… beneath that mask, there’s a monster... For now, it matters not. He’s out of sight, but not out of mind." She shifted her gaze back to Zhongli, her eyes narrowing. "You’ve played your part, Morax, but we’ll be watching your little kingdom closely. The Tsaritsa will not tolerate interference—whether from you, your young friend here—" she gestured toward Aether with a dismissive wave, "—or that masked monster."

Paimon’s eyes were wide with disbelief, her small fists clenched in frustration as she floated closer to Zhongli. “You’re the real monsters here!” she cried, her voice trembling with emotion. “Paimon can’t understand how you went along with such a dangerous plan! You nearly started a war between the humans and the Adepti!”

Aether’s gaze was sharp, cutting through the heavy atmosphere of the room. He stepped forward, his voice steady but filled with unspoken tension. “If things had escalated and there were casualties… would you have intervened, Mister Zhongli?”

Zhongli met Aether’s questioning eyes without flinching. His expression was calm, almost too calm for the weight of the situation. “Of course,” he replied, his tone measured as if the answer was obvious.

But Aether was far from satisfied. His brow furrowed in frustration, his grip tightening around his sword. “Then why didn’t you stop it when Momon… when he slaughtered the Adepti? Were they not important enough for you to act?” The words came out sharper than he intended, but the memory of the brutal battle still lingered in his mind—the clash of power, the bodies of the Adepti falling, the overwhelming force of Momon’s power. It haunted him.

Zhongli’s expression softened, though a deep sadness flickered in his golden eyes. He took a slow breath, as if the weight of centuries rested on his shoulders. “That… was the moment when my plan began to unravel,” he admitted, his voice carrying the weight of both regret and understanding. He paused, letting the tension settle in the room before continuing.

“My goal was simple, in theory,” he explained. “I wished for Liyue to grow beyond its dependence on gods. For the humans and the Adepti to set aside their ancient grudges and work together, to forge a future where they stood united, without my guidance. The contract I sought to uphold was not only with the Tsaritsa but also with Liyue itself—my silent promise to usher in a new age.”

Zhongli’s eyes drifted away, as if seeing visions of the past. “But then, there was your companion—Momon. An individual of such overwhelming power… a force that I did not anticipate. He turned everything upside down, unraveling centuries of carefully laid plans in mere moments. When he slaughtered the Adepti with such ease, it became clear that my vision for peace was at risk.”

Aether and Paimon exchanged a glance, sensing the gravity of what Zhongli was saying. Aether still couldn’t believe what he was hearing—how one person, even someone as strong as Momon, could have disrupted the Archon’s plans so profoundly.

Zhongli continued, his voice growing quieter, more contemplative. “If I had intervened, if I had revealed my true identity and stood against Momon at that moment… the consequences would have been catastrophic. Momon did not know who I truly was, and had I revealed myself, it’s likely he would have perceived me as an enemy. A fight between the two of us, given the strength he displayed… the entirety of Liyue Harbor could have been laid to waste in the chaos.”

He paused, his gaze lowering as if weighed down by the gravity of what might have been. “So, I chose not to act. Not because the Adepti were unimportant, but because my intervention would have made things far worse. That is the burden of my position, Aether. To act, or not to act—both carry risks, and sometimes the consequences are too great to bear.”

Aether stood silently, trying to process Zhongli’s words. The Archon’s plan for peace had been shattered, not by the Fatui or the conflicts between the Adepti and humans, but by the sheer, unpredictable power of a man they barely understood—Momon. It was a bitter truth to swallow.

Paimon, still upset but quieter now, hovered closer to Aether’s side. “So… you let it happen. You let Momon… because you thought stopping him would be even worse?”

Zhongli nodded slowly. “Yes. It was a difficult decision, but one I had to make. The path forward is uncertain now, but I trust that Liyue will still find its way. With or without the guidance of the Geo Archon.”

Signora’s soft, mocking laughter echoed through the room, her crimson lips curling into a cruel smile as she leaned slightly forward, eyes glinting with amusement. "I can’t believe it," she began, her voice a smooth blend of mockery and satisfaction, "even the almighty Geo Archon is unwilling to confront him—Momon."

Her words hung in the air, dripping with scorn. The irony of a god, a being who had shaped the very foundations of Liyue, choosing not to challenge someone like Momon amused her deeply. She relished the discomfort in the room, watching Zhongli, Aether, and even Childe with a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes.

Aether bristled, his hand tightening around his sword. “Momon did what he had to do. He’s not like you.”

Signora tilted her head, examining her nails with a casual air, as though the entire conversation bored her. "Oh, dear traveler," she purred, "you misunderstand. I simply find it fascinating how even the most ancient and powerful beings, like our dear Morax here, can be… pragmatic. It’s so human of him, isn’t it?"

Zhongli remained silent, his gaze steady and unflinching, but there was a slight furrow in his brow as he regarded Signora with a quiet intensity. He knew what she was trying to provoke, yet he remained composed.

Childe, standing a few paces away, shifted uncomfortably. “Now, now, Signora,” he chimed in, trying to defuse the tension. “No need to poke the lion’s den. Besides, after seeing what that guy did… I’d say it’s a smart move not to get tangled up with someone who can crush gods as if they were nothing.”

Signora’s laughter became even more cynical, her eyes flicking toward Childe. “Crushing gods? Is that what you fear, Childe? Or perhaps what you admire?” She raised an eyebrow, her smile deepening. “How amusing.”

“Admire? That’s going too far, even for me.” Childe’s voice remained light, but his eyes were hard. “But yeah, I’m not exactly jumping at the chance to face him head-on after that little show with Osial. I’m not stupid.”

Aether glared at both of them. “You’re both insane. This entire situation is—"

Aether gritted his teeth but said nothing, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.

Meanwhile, Momon, still cloaked in [Perfect Unknowable], stood silently, observing the exchange. He took note of everything, from Signora’s arrogant demeanor to Zhongli’s calm, unflinching stance. None of them knew he was there, and for the moment, he was content to remain a ghost in the shadows, watching this delicate game of power and politics unfold.

I’ll leave you to your moral quandaries. I’ve got what I came for.” She tapped the gleaming Gnosis in her hand with a satisfied smirk.

Aether stepped forward, his grip on his sword tightening. “You’re just going to walk away after all of this? After everything the Fatui did to Liyue?”

Signora flicked her gaze towards Aether, her amusement fading into a colder, sharper edge. “Yes, I am. The Gnosis is in my possession, and as far as I’m concerned, our business is concluded.”

As Signora and Childe disappeared through the large doors, their footsteps echoing faintly behind them, Aether’s grip on his sword relaxed, though the tension in his stance remained. He stared after them, his brow furrowed, emotions swirling inside him—anger, frustration, and a sense of helplessness. But with the city already shaken by recent events, another confrontation would only bring more destruction. He knew he had to let them go, for the sake of Liyue and its people.

Turning back to Zhongli, Aether’s voice was quieter, but his words carried weight. “They took the Gnosis from the Anemo Archon through violence and yours through diplomacy. The Fatui know exactly what cards to play... manipulating every situation to their advantage.” He paused, his golden eyes locking onto Zhongli’s calm, steady gaze. “I don’t know you very well, Mister Zhongli. We’ve met only once when Childe introduced you to me. But after everything that’s happened... I have one last question.”

Aether’s voice hardened as he asked, “Was all of this worth it?”

Zhongli stood still for a moment, his hands folded behind his back as he gazed out toward the grand chamber’s stone pillars, his expression thoughtful. His silence lingered, as if he were contemplating not just the question, but the weight of centuries of history that had led to this moment. He turned to face Aether, his eyes reflecting a deep, timeless wisdom.

“In the eyes of a god, the worth of an action is not always measured by its immediate result,” Zhongli said, his tone calm and steady. “Liyue has flourished under my protection for thousands of years. But it is no longer a nation that needs a god to guide it. My plan... was to relinquish that role, to allow the people of Liyue to forge their own path. The Fatui’s involvement—though unexpected—did not alter the end result I desired. The contract was fulfilled.”

Aether frowned, unsatisfied with that answer. “But you let the Fatui walk away with the Gnosis! You knew what they were planning. You allowed it to happen!”

Zhongli met Aether’s gaze, unflinching. “Yes, I did. The Fatui’s actions are part of a larger scheme, one that involves forces even greater than the Archons themselves. The Gnosis is merely a piece of that puzzle, one I no longer need to hold onto. My time as Liyue’s protector has come to an end. The people of Liyue will rise without the guidance of their Archon.”

Aether’s frustration flared. “And what if the Fatui use that power for destruction? What if all this ‘diplomacy’ only leads to more suffering?”

Zhongli’s expression softened, a hint of melancholy in his golden eyes. “I cannot control what others choose to do with the pieces they acquire. The Tsaritsa’s ambition is vast, but even she cannot control everything. All I can do is uphold my contract, and I have done so.”

Aether stared at Zhongli, trying to reconcile the wisdom in his words with the unease in his heart. “But was it worth it... losing everything for this?” His voice was softer now, almost a whisper as if he was asking not just Zhongli, but himself.

Zhongli closed his eyes for a brief moment. “Only time will reveal the true worth of our actions, Aether. The future is uncertain, but Liyue’s people are strong. They will endure, with or without me. That is the foundation I laid long ago, and it is a future I believe in.”

Aether had nothing to say anymore. “Very well, Mister Zhongli. I hope we meet again in the future.” he said.

“Sure, Aether.” said Zhongli.

As Aether and Paimon made their way out of the Northland Bank, the sound of their footsteps slowly faded into the distance, leaving the vast room in an oppressive silence. Zhongli stood still, his amber eyes watching their retreating forms until they disappeared through the grand doors. The stillness that followed was palpable, heavy with the events that had just transpired.

Zhongli exhaled softly, a faint sigh of resignation escaping his lips. He had given up his Gnosis, sealing the final chapter of his reign as the Geo Archon. Yet, there was no satisfaction in this moment, only the burden of the centuries-long plan coming to fruition, leaving him with an unfamiliar emptiness.

He began to move, his steps echoing softly against the marble floor. His hands rested behind his back, a contemplative expression crossing his features. But as he neared the far side of the room, something strange caught his eye—a figure seated in the shadows, almost too still to be natural.

Zhongli halted mid-step. The room should have been empty by now, yet there, in the dimmest corner, someone remained. His eyes narrowed as he tried to make out the details. The person’s legs were casually draped over the side of the chair, barely visible in the shadowed light. The rest of the figure seemed to be cloaked in darkness, obscured almost unnaturally.

A faint, cold pressure crept into the room. Something was wrong.

Zhongli straightened, his senses on high alert. He took another step forward, his sharp eyes trained on the silhouette. The figure, almost as if sensing Zhongli’s gaze, began to rise. The movement was slow, deliberate, like a predator uncoiling itself from a resting position.

The dim light finally caught the person’s form as he stepped out of the shadow—Momon. His tall, imposing figure seemed to absorb the light around him, the air itself thickening with his presence. Even the light of Liyue, which usually brought a sense of warmth and security, seemed dim in his presence. His masked face revealed nothing, but the cold, cutting aura he exuded was unmistakable.

Zhongli’s composed demeanor faltered for the briefest of moments before he quickly regained his composure. He knew this figure all too well—the masked entity who had swept through Liyue like a storm, overpowering even the Adepti and slaying Osial. The man who had appeared from the shadows, much like now, and tipped the balance of everything.

“Mister Momon,” Zhongli greeted him, his voice calm yet edged with wariness. He inclined his head slightly, though his posture remained formal, regal. “It is a delight to meet you once more.”

For a brief moment, silence hung between them. Then, from behind his mask, Momon’s voice broke the stillness—a low, chilling tone that cut through the air like a blade.

“You are pathetic.”

The words were sharp, dripping with contempt. There was no formal exchange, no hidden meaning, just raw, unfiltered disdain. Zhongli felt the weight of those words more deeply than he had anticipated. They landed like stones in his chest, though his face remained unreadable, betraying nothing of the impact they carried.
Before Zhongli could respond, Momon’s figure dissolved into the shadows with an effortless grace, his form vanishing completely as if he had never been there at all. The only evidence of his presence was the lingering tension in the air, the sense of being judged and dismissed in the span of a few short moments.

Zhongli stood there, staring at the space Momon had vacated. He said nothing, his thoughts swirling in the quiet aftermath. The Overlord’s parting words echoed in his mind, repeating like a dark refrain.

Chapter Text

As Aether and Paimon left the Northland Bank, the atmosphere around them felt heavy. Liyue’s bustling streets were just a few turns away, but here, they found a quiet alleyway where they could finally breathe. The pale light of dusk cast long shadows across the walls, lending an eerie calmness that contrasted sharply with the storm of emotions swirling within Aether’s mind.

Paimon hovered close to Aether, her tiny face furrowed with concern as she tried to process what they’d just discovered.

“To think that Mister Zhongli was actually Rex Lapis… It’s just unbelievable,” Paimon murmured, glancing at Aether with wide eyes. “And all the while, the people of Liyue are still mourning his death, and he’s alive right under their noses! How can someone be so… calm about something like this?”

Aether glanced around, lowering his voice. “Keep it down, Paimon. This is one secret that needs to stay just between us. If the people find out that the Geo Archon is alive, it could turn Liyue upside down. With all the changes he's planning, that kind of chaos would destroy everything he's working for.”

Paimon crossed her arms, nodding thoughtfully. “You’re probably right… but it still feels wrong, doesn’t it? Zhongli went along with the Fatui and handed over his Gnosis, and now the Fatui have what they want. It’s like… he didn’t care that much about what might happen.”

Aether’s jaw tightened as he pondered her words. “Maybe he believes in his plan for Liyue enough to take that risk. But there’s one other person who deserves to know about all of this…”

Paimon immediately caught on. “You’re talking about Momon, aren’t you? But… you think he’ll be okay with us letting the Fatui walk away with the Geo Archon’s Gnosis?”

Aether looked off into the distance, watching the colors of the setting sun bleed across the sky. Momon was powerful, formidable, and intensely principled—qualities that made him both a valuable ally and someone who would likely view their inaction with disappointment. Yet Aether knew that keeping this secret from Momon, after everything they’d been through together, would be unwise.

“We’ve faced too much together to keep secrets like this from him,” Aether replied, his voice steady with conviction. “It’s only right that we’re honest with him, no matter how he reacts. He’s our companion, and if we’re going to earn his trust, we need to trust him, too.”

Paimon floated in silence for a moment, then nodded, her voice softening with resolve. “You’re right. Momon deserves to know… even if he might think we should’ve done more.”

“I’ve heard enough…” The soft rustle of robes and a faint, chilling whisper cut through the empty street like a knife.

Aether and Paimon froze, their heads whipping around to find the source of the voice. “Did… did you hear that?” Paimon stammered, clinging to Aether’s arm with wide eyes.

Before Aether could answer, the voice spoke again, closer this time. “I’m right here.”

They turned in unison—and nearly jumped out of their skins. Towering over them, cloaked in shadow and imposing as ever, stood Momon. He seemed to have emerged from the shadows themselves, his mask unreadable and the dark cloak around him adding to his ominous presence.

“W-Woah! You scared Paimon half to death!” Paimon yelped, hovering back a bit to put distance between herself and the silent figure.

“Momon,” Aether began, finally finding his voice, “where have you been all morning? We thought you’d gone somewhere else in the city.”

Momon’s gaze remained steady, and though his face was hidden, his tone betrayed a slight hint of amusement. “I apologize. Ningguang called me to the Jade Chamber. It was an… interesting meeting.”

“Oh, so you were with Ningguang…” Aether nodded, though he still seemed unsettled by Momon’s sudden arrival. “I see, but what did you mean by ‘I’ve heard enough?’”

Momon crossed his arms, his voice becoming more serious. “The Geo Archon, the two Fatui Harbingers, the Gnosis…” He paused for effect, letting the weight of each word sink in. “Should I continue?”

Aether’s eyes widened. “Wait… you mean you… you heard everything?”

“Yes,” Momon confirmed, his tone unyielding. “I returned from the Jade Chamber looking for you two. I noticed you heading toward that building,” he gestured in the direction of the Northland Bank, “and sensed a considerable surge of power. It seemed suspicious, so I used an invisibility spell, entered, and heard everything.”

Paimon’s mouth fell open. “You mean… you were there the whole time?”

Momon gave a slow nod. “Observing.”

Aether’s shoulders slumped a little. He had expected this moment to be difficult, but not like this. “Momon, I… We didn’t mean to keep it from you. There was just so much happening, and we… we didn’t know what you’d think.”

Momon’s gaze held steady, the dark lenses of his mask hiding his expression, but the weight of his presence was clear. “And what did you think I would do? My loyalty lies with those I call allies, Aether. But if you begin to doubt that…” He let the sentence hang, the tension thick in the air.

“It’s not that, I promise,” Aether said hurriedly, the urgency in his tone clear. “We trust you. This whole thing with the Fatui, the Archons, it’s just… complicated.”

“Yeah, really complicated,” Paimon added, trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, it’s kinda nice to have you around, even if you’re like… super scary sometimes.”

For a moment, Momon remained silent, his unreadable mask fixed on the two of them, and then he gave a slow nod. “Look, you two,” Momon’s voice softened slightly, yet his tone was firm. “Let’s be real about this. It’s fine to keep secrets that are personal, things that are only important to you. I have mine too. But when it gets to the point where you’re staring death in the face…” He let the words linger, his gaze settling on Aether.

Aether swallowed, feeling the weight of Momon’s words sink in. He knew exactly what Momon was implying—the confrontation with Signora and Childe had been a close call, too close. If things had taken a different turn, he and Paimon might not have walked out of the Northland Bank at all.

“You’re right,” Aether replied, his tone sincere. “I… I didn’t realize how dangerous it would get. Signora and Childe… They wouldn’t have hesitated if we had tried to stop them from taking the Gnosis.”

Paimon hovered closer to Aether, visibly shaken as she remembered Signora’s cold, mocking gaze and Childe’s unpredictable nature. “Yeah… they were really scary. Paimon didn’t think it would get that serious.”

“Exactly,” Momon continued, his tone unwavering. “When survival is on the line, any hidden truths are a potential risk—to you, to each other, and to anyone who might come to your aid. We don’t have the luxury of secrets when facing enemies like the Fatui.”

Aether looked down, understanding now just how close they had come to real danger. “We won’t make that mistake again, Momon,” he said, determination filling his voice. “From now on, if there’s something this big… something that could put any of us in danger, you’ll be the first to know.”

Paimon nodded, her usual cheer replaced with a rare solemnity. “Yeah! We’re a team, right? And Paimon’s not ready to get fried by any Harbingers anytime soon!”

“It’s fine, Paimon,” Momon said, his tone steady but laced with frustration. “Now, this Zhongli guy—‘Geo Archon’ or not—I’ll be honest, I can’t stand his approach. A plan just to step down from his divine role? It’s reckless, leaving everyone else to clean up the mess in the wake of his decision. But it’s not our place to judge him, not fully. We’re not from here; we’re just travelers who got tangled up in his scheme.”

Aether let out a slow breath, the weight of the truth heavy on his shoulders. "I don’t even know what to do with this information. Revealing Rex Lapis is still alive could unravel everything. It’s huge… this could bring a whole new crisis to Liyue if it ever got out.”

Momon nodded, his expression grim. “Exactly. When I spoke with Ningguang, I suggested that the Fatui might be orchestrating something here. What happened in Mondstadt showed their tactics well enough. But telling the world that their Geo Archon is still alive and willingly gave up his Gnosis… that’s not news people are ready to handle.”

Paimon glanced between them, worry plain on her face. “So… what do we do? Do we keep this secret too?”

Momon’s gaze sharpened as he looked back at them. “For now, yes. We’ll monitor the situation closely. If the Fatui escalates things, we may have to reconsider. But until then, let’s keep this between us. There’s no telling how the people of Liyue—or the Adepti—would react if they knew the truth.”

Aether and Paimon exchanged a nod, each of them understanding that this was a burden they’d bear together.

“Now what do we do, Aether? Should we stay for a few days here, or head to the next nation?” Momon asked, his tone contemplative as he surveyed the lively streets of Liyue bustling with merchants and citizens going about their day.

Aether paused, thinking over their recent experiences and the weight of the secrets they carried. “I say we stay for a few days. There's a lot to unpack from everything we've learned. What do you think?”

Momon nodded thoughtfully, a glint of approval in his eyes. “Very well. I’d like to visit one of my domains for a few hours, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, sure, Momon!” Aether replied, feeling a mix of curiosity and respect. He knew that while they had their own challenges, Momon had his own affairs to attend to.

Paimon, ever the opportunist, chimed in with a bright smile. “Hey! There are rumors that a big feast will be happening soon in Liyue! You don’t wanna miss it!” Her eyes sparkled with excitement, picturing tables laden with delectable food and treats.

Momon raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “Uh, have fun, I guess. Goodbye for now.” With a quick nod to Aether and Paimon, he vanished into thin air, leaving behind a faint shimmer of energy in his wake.

As the world around him shifted, Momon found himself soaring above the rolling hills and lush fields of Mondstadt once again. The familiar landscape stretched out beneath him, the sunlight bathing everything in a warm glow.

In his eyes, the serene beauty of Mondstadt was more captivating than the bustling markets of Liyue. The sky seemed infinitely blue, and the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind created a melody that soothed him.

“Now, where should I go… Dragonspine or Old Mondstadt?” he pondered, his gaze drifting toward the distant silhouette of Dragonspine, its dark, jagged peaks looming ominously against the horizon. The cold region called to him with an allure of mystery and adventure, contrasting starkly with the warmth of the land below.

“Alright, let’s go there," With a swift movement, he adjusted his course, flying effortlessly toward the frosty heights of Dragonspine. As he approached, the temperature dropped, and a brisk wind whipped around him, carrying the scent of pine and snow.

The frigid winds of Dragonspine whirled around Momon as he descended, each gust sharp enough to chill even the hardiest of adventurers. But to him, the biting cold was nothing more than a gentle breeze, harmlessly brushing past his skeletal form. The frost that blanketed the ground crunched under his heavy steps, though it did not cling to him like it would a living body. His undead form moved with ease through the harsh landscape, untouched by the frost that crept over stones and branches.

Momon’s gaze swept over the ice-laden cliffs and deep shadows cast by towering rock formations, his sharp eyes catching details of frost-encased flora and the ever-present lingering mist.

Crossing the icy river and stepping into Wyrmrest Valley, Momon paused, taking in the unexpected scene before him. A sprawling Fatui camp lay nestled against the rocky cliffs, with rows of neatly pitched tents and banners flapping in the cold wind. Dozens of Fatui agents milled about, some tending to fires, others checking their gear or speaking in low voices. The air was tense, filled with the hum of arcane power and the clink of weaponry.

"What are all these goons doing here?" he thought, eyeing the soldiers with a mixture of confusion and annoyance.

Momon walked steadily into the Fatui camp, his dark form stark against the white snow, moving without haste or hesitation. The first guards spotted him quickly, stepping into his path with weapons raised.

"Hey, you! Where the hell do you think you’re going?” barked a Fatui Pyro Agent, his blade glinting in the dim light of the snowy valley. “Turn around and go back to where you came from!”

Momon stopped, his shadow casting a long, ominous line across the snow, and tilted his head slightly. “Oh, since you’ve given me a chance to leave, I’ll be courteous enough to return it. Pack your things and get off my land.”

The Fatui soldiers exchanged bewildered glances before laughter erupted from a Pyroslinger Bracer nearby. “Pfff, hahahaha! What is this clown on about?”

Another soldier, the Anemoboxer Vanguard, sneered and cracked his knuckles, his thick gauntlets ready for a fight. “Hey, clown—who died and made this patch of frozen hell your land? You’ve got a few seconds to turn around and crawl out of here before we turn you into frozen mince.”

“You heard him. Scram before things get ugly.” Pyroslinger Bracer aimed his rifle at him.

Momon sighed, as though mildly inconvenienced. “I gave you a chance to leave with your lives,” he said, his voice low and cold as the air around them. “But arrogance rarely listens to reason.”

The Vanguard’s eyes narrowed. “That’s it—I’m knocking his lights out.”

The Anemoboxer Vanguard fed up, growled and lunged toward Momon, raising his fist high, prepared to smash through the stranger’s mask. But Momon didn’t flinch. Instead, he slowly raised a hand, and between his fingers formed the ghostly outline of a pulsing, ethereal heart.

“[Grasp Heart],” Momon intoned, his voice like a whispered death knell.

Instantly, the Anemoboxer Vanguard froze mid-swing, his eyes widening with horror as his own heart, though untouched, felt as if it were caught in an iron grip. In the silence that followed, his body went limp, collapsing lifelessly into the snow, his gaze still fixed on Momon’s unreadable mask.

A stunned hush fell over the remaining Fatui. A few of them took a step back, their earlier bravado now replaced by a cold dread.

“What… what did he do?” stammered a Cryogunner Legionnaire, his voice shaking, his hand shivering as he gripped his weapon tighter.

Momon watched the fallen Anemoboxer’s body lying limp in the snow, an idea forming in his mind. He extended his hand, fingers poised with purpose, and whispered, “[Create High-Tier Undead - Undead Berserker].”

A strange, viscous black liquid began to materialize, slithering over the snow like an oily shadow before seeping into the corpse. The Fatui skirmishers took several steps back, murmuring frantically as they watched this horrific spectacle unfold. The liquid invaded every inch of the body, and with a shudder, the lifeless form began to rise like a puppet on invisible strings.

Momon observed intently, noting the differences in the magic's effect here compared to his experiences in YGGDRASIL. This new world had adapted his skill in a way he had not anticipated, using the very corpse as a base rather than creating one from dark energies alone. The dead Fatui’s form stretched and morphed, enlarging until it towered three meters high, encased in an ominous, twisted armor that seemed forged from darkness itself.

The creature stood before the horrified soldiers, an abomination of metal and malice. The once-human shape was now encased in an armor blacker than the night, jagged and brutal, with grotesque spikes jutting from the shoulders and limbs. A colossal, serrated greatsword rested in its hands, the blade’s edges jagged and faintly pulsing as if alive. From beneath its helm, two glowing red orbs burned like embers, gazing with unseeing rage at the Fatui before it.

The Fatui skirmishers stumbled back, faces pale, their eyes glued to the monstrosity in front of them. Some gasped audibly, and one of them, barely containing his terror, stammered, “W-What is that… that thing?!”

Momon’s voice was calm, almost dispassionate. “This ‘thing’ was your comrade. Consider it a gift for ignoring my warning.”

He gestured toward the Undead Berserker. The creature responded with a thunderous step forward, the snow crunching beneath its armored feet. It raised its greatsword, and the dim light of Dragonspine glinted off its blade, casting a harsh, cold gleam across the snow.

One of the Pyro Agents found his voice, trembling but defiant. “Stay back! W-We’re not afraid of some… some demon!”

But his voice faltered as the Berserker lunged, its greatsword carving through the air with deadly grace. With unnatural speed for its massive size, the Undead Berserker descended upon the Fatui, each strike of its blade echoing with sickening finality.

Momon watched the chaos unfold, his expression unreadable. The Fatui’s initial resistance melted into desperation, their coordinated shouts devolving into screams. The Berserker moved through them with merciless efficiency, a dark force of destruction.

The frigid air crackled with tension as the Cryogunner Legionnaire, desperation clawing at his throat, aimed his weapon at the towering Undead Berserker. “You won’t get away with this!” he shouted, unleashing a torrent of icy shards that spiraled toward the monster. But to his shock, the frozen projectiles shattered harmlessly upon impact with the Berserker's dark armor, leaving not even a scratch.

The Berserker turned, its red eyes glowing with an insatiable hunger for destruction. It raised its colossal greatsword, the blade gleaming ominously as it descended in a swift arc, cleaving the Cryogunner in half as if he were nothing more than a mere onion, his body collapsing into the snow with a dull thud.

With an echoing, guttural roar, the Berserker raised its sword, soaked in blood and snow, and declared, “FEEL THE WRATH OF THE SUPREME ONE!” Its voice boomed across the camp, an unnatural, chilling sound that sent a wave of terror through the remaining Fatui soldiers.

Momon stood off to the side, a mixture of awe and satisfaction flooding through him. “Incredible,” he muttered under his breath, marveling at how his creation exhibited both strength and the capacity for speech. This was a development he hadn’t anticipated, a manifestation of his power over death that both intrigued and thrilled him.

A Pyroslinger Bracer, hands trembling, raised his rifle and fired desperately. “Die! Die! Die!” he screamed, unloading round after round. Each bullet ricocheted off the Berserker’s armor harmlessly, clinking away like pebbles on a mountain. The undead monster advanced, each step leaving deep prints in the snow, stained red with the blood of its victims. Its armor was spattered with gruesome evidence of the massacre, a stark, horrifying sight against the white landscape.

The Pyroslinger Bracer’s rifle clicked, out of ammo. Panicked, he dropped it, stumbling backward as the Berserker closed the distance. The glow from its helmet’s eyes seemed to grow brighter as it neared, casting a hellish red glow on the terrified Bracer.

“W-Wait, please! Don’t–” he choked, his voice a feeble whimper.

The Berserker thrust its massive sword through the man’s chest, effortlessly puncturing flesh, bone, and armor. It didn’t stop there, however; with each powerful, merciless twist, it tore the man’s body apart, leaving only a shattered, mangled shell.

The camp had turned into a scene of pure horror. Mangled bodies, torn limbs, and splattered blood dotted the once-organized Fatui encampment, now silent and still but for the steady snowfall covering the gruesome remains. The once-intimidating Fatui soldiers lay lifeless in grotesque disarray, a brutal reminder of the Berserker’s wrath.

Momon watched the carnage with an odd sense of satisfaction, nodding approvingly. He stepped forward, observing his creation with a mixture of awe and intrigue. “Good job, Berserker,” he said, his tone both pleased and impressed.

The Berserker straightened, its crimson gaze focused on Momon with unwavering loyalty. “Always ready for orders, my lord,” it responded in a deep, distorted voice.

Momon’s curiosity was piqued again; this undead was far more than a mindless creation. “Your ability to speak is intriguing. What else can you do?” he mused, already contemplating the potential this creature might hold.

The Berserker straightened, its helmet tilting slightly as if it were pondering. “I exist to serve you, my lord. I can summon darkness, wield destruction, and obey your will.”

The brutal symphony of death and chaos unfolded around them, and for a fleeting moment, Momon felt the thrill of absolute power. Here, amidst the carnage, he was not just an observer; he was a force to be reckoned with, a master of the undead who could command fear itself.

Momon wandered through the remnants of the camp, stepping carefully over the bodies strewn about in the snow. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood, and the eerie stillness that followed the massacre left a chilling silence in its wake. He paused to examine the various tents, their flaps flapping gently in the frigid breeze, as if the camp itself were trying to shake off the horror that had just unfolded.

Settling down in the central area, he found a table cluttered with scattered papers, maps, and crude drawings. As he sifted through the documents, his skeletal fingers moved with surprising dexterity, delicately picking up the pages and scanning their contents.

The reports detailed supply runs, strategic positions, and notes on the local wildlife, but there was something unsettling about the absence of mention regarding any of the Fatui Harbingers.

His brow furrowed as he read on, realizing that these troops had been operating in Dragonspine under the radar. “No Knights of Favonius or adventurers willing to chase them into these treacherous mountains,” he mused. It seemed the Fatui were using the remoteness of the region to their advantage, allowing them to carry out their operations unimpeded.

He picked up a particularly crumpled page, its edges frayed from handling. It read:

“Resources secured. No contact with higher command. Continue operations as planned. Keep watch for any uninvited guests. Dragonspine’s isolation gives us an opportunity to strengthen our position.”

His thoughts were interrupted by a low growl from the Undead Berserker, who stood sentinel at the edge of the camp, its glowing red eyes scanning the horizon. “My lord, should we seek out the remaining Fatui or secure our position here?” the Berserker asked, its voice a rumbling echo that carried authority.

Momon stood there, perplexed, staring at the towering Undead Berserker that loomed over the battlefield. In his previous experience within YGGDRASIL, he had expected his summoned creatures to dissipate after a brief period. Yet here, before him, this monstrous entity remained, an eerie testament to his newfound powers.

“Berserker, shouldn’t you be disappearing? I mean, your time is up,” he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

“My lord… I’m here to serve you for eternity,” the Undead Berserker replied, its voice resonating with a chilling authority that sent a shiver down Momon’s spine. The sentiment was unwavering, filled with an almost fervent devotion.

Momon turned away, lost in thought, his mind racing. “For eternity… does that mean using a corpse allows my undead creations to stay here permanently?!” The realization hit him like a thunderclap, electrifying his senses. This was revolutionary. The implications were staggering. If he could summon high-level undead servants that remained bound to him, he could create an unstoppable force, capable of defending his domains against any who dared to intrude.

A grin crept across his skeletal visage, excitement bubbling within him like an uncontainable fire. “Very well, Berserker. I want you to gather all the corpses in one place,” he commanded, his voice steady and filled with newfound authority.

“Yes, my lord!” the Berserker responded with a swift nod, its movements precise and deliberate. It marched off into the carnage of the battlefield, gathering the remains of the fallen Fatui soldiers with grim efficiency.

Momon watched as the Berserker worked, its cold, dark armor gleaming dully in the muted light of Dragonspine. With each body it lifted, he felt a surge of power. This was more than just a test of his abilities; it was a chance to build an army. Each corpse brought back from the brink of death was not merely a soldier but a piece of a grander design, a step toward his ultimate goal.

“Make haste, Berserker! We don’t have all day,” Momon called out, urging the creature on.

“Of course, my lord. Your wish is my command!” The Undead Berserker’s voice carried a tone of loyalty that resonated in the chilling air, an echo of the dark pact forged between them.

As the Berserker continued its grim task, Momon began to formulate his next move. “If I can raise enough of them, I could patrol my domains, eliminate the mindless monsters that plague this land, and keep enemies at bay. The potential here is limitless!”

Once the Undead Berserker had gathered the bodies into a macabre pile, it returned, standing at attention before Momon. “All collected, my lord. What are your orders?”

"Step aside." As the Berserker obediently stepped aside, Momon raised his skeletal hands once more, channeling the dark energy within him. Shadows swirled and coalesced into the twisted forms of three powerful undead beings, each more formidable than the last.

With a steady, commanding voice, he called forth the first. “[Create High-Tier Undead - Grim Reaper Thanatos]!”

The ground trembled slightly, and out of a billowing cloud of dark mist emerged a towering figure cloaked in tattered, obsidian robes. Its hood obscured its face entirely save for two burning, crimson lights deep within the shadows. In its skeletal hands, it clutched an enormous scythe, its blade sharp enough to cut through not just flesh, but the very souls of the living. The Grim Reaper Thanatos hovered silently, exuding an aura of doom that seemed to drain the warmth from the air. Momon felt a surge of satisfaction at the ominous creature standing before him, its scythe glinting in the dim light like a silent promise of death.

“Your orders, my lord?” it intoned its voice a haunting whisper that seemed to seep into the bones.

“Patience, Thanatos,” Momon replied. “I am not done yet.”

He extended his hands again, the power rippling around him like a storm. “[Create High-Tier Undead - Overlord General]!”

A brilliant flash of silver filled the air, and a new figure materialized—a massive, skeletal warrior clad in gleaming silver armor. Twin dragon heads carved into its pauldrons glared with fierce red eyes, and a black cape billowed ominously behind it. The Overlord General radiated an aura of command, his mere presence instilling a chilling confidence in the ranks of the undead that surrounded him. This creature was the embodiment of military prowess, born to rally armies and lead them with unyielding loyalty.

The Overlord General bowed low. “I stand ready to lead your forces, my lord.”

“Excellent,” said Momon, his skeletal grin widening. “One more…”

Drawing upon the deepest well of his power, Momon called forth his final summon. “[Create High-Tier Undead - Death Emperor]!”

The earth itself seemed to recoil as the Death Emperor emerged from a vortex of shadows. Standing taller than any of the other summoned creatures, it was encased in terrifying black armor, with skeletal limbs that seemed sculpted from shadows and death itself. This creature radiated raw destructive energy, and its hollow eyes burned with a relentless thirst for annihilation. Its mere presence felt like a harbinger of ruin, as if even standing near it would bring decay and death.

The Death Emperor took a step forward, the ground beneath it withering and cracking. “I am here, my liege, to bring absolute ruin.”

Momon regarded his terrifying creations with a satisfied nod. Each of these powerful beings would be invaluable in his plans to maintain control over his domains and eradicate any who dared challenge him.

“Thanatos, Overlord General, Death Emperor—" Momon declared. “You will defend my lands and serve as my hands of retribution.”

“By your command,” they replied in unison, their voices a chilling chorus that reverberated through the empty, frostbitten air.

Momon allowed himself a moment of pride as he looked upon his newly assembled legion of high-tier undead. These were no mere minions; they were elite instruments of his will, the ultimate enforcers of his authority. With these three at his side, Teyvat would come to know true power—and fear.

Momon's dark energy filled the snowy air, weaving through the remains of the Fatui soldiers as he summoned his next wave of minions. The corpses began to contort and shift, taking on the chilling forms of middle-tier undead warriors, each creature summoned with a distinct, fearsome purpose.

The first group were Death Knights, towering figures clad in decayed but powerful armor, wielding bloodstained swords and cursed shields. Their eyes glowed an eerie crimson, each step they took leaving a faint trail of deathly energy. The Overlord General gestured for them to fall in line behind him, and they did so in disciplined silence, their stoic presence adding a grim weight to the snowy landscape.

Next came the Terror Warriors, spectral fighters cloaked in shadowy auras that seemed to consume the light around them. They wielded jagged axes and dark lances, their movements unnervingly swift and silent. Thanatos pointed his scythe at them, his hollow gaze directing them to join his ranks. The Terror Warriors assembled around him, their spectral forms blending with his own in a haunting display.

Finally, the Graveyard Guards rose from the ground, their bodies twisted and hunched, wrapped in dark armor adorned with spikes and rusted chains. These undead wielded heavy maces and reinforced shields, perfect for defense and control. The Death Emperor commanded them to form a perimeter around him, each Graveyard Guard letting out a low, rumbling growl in acknowledgment.

Momon inspected his new forces, impressed by their terrifying array of abilities. Each of the high-tier undead now had their own squad of five middle-tier minions, enhancing their individual strength with formations that suited their unique fighting styles.

“You three come with me.” commanded Momon.

Momon led the three undead lords into the cold, dimly lit tent. The flickering light cast shadows across their towering figures, creating an eerie atmosphere that suited the grim task at hand. He removed his mask, revealing the hollow sockets of his skeletal face, and sat down, his presence commanding and regal. The undead lords remained silent and watchful as he spread out the map he’d acquired from the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, each undead seemingly hanging on every move he made.

Sliding the enchanted glasses onto his bony face, Momon began to read the map’s details, the arcane lens translating ancient Mondstadtian script into his language he could understand. His finger traced the rugged terrain lines and strategic points, and he lifted his head, addressing his servants.

“This,” he said, tapping the paper with a gloved finger, “is Dragonspine. We are situated here, within Wyrmrest Valley, near the river.” He glanced at the faint sound of water rushing outside, the river’s exact location mirroring the map’s details. “It is treacherous, frigid, and nearly untouched. The perfect terrain for us to establish our foothold.”

The three undead remained motionless, taking in his words with silent reverence. Momon’s finger moved across the map, sweeping over the location northwest of their current position. “This territory here,” he continued, pointing, “is Stormterror’s Lair, or as some call it, the Old Mondstadt. Death Emperor, I will station you there. Claim it in my name and ensure that it becomes a place where the living dare not tread.”

Death Emperor stepped forward, lowering his horned helmeted head in solemn acknowledgment. “I understand, Supreme One. I shall turn Stormterror’s Lair into a fortress of dread. None shall trespass and live to tell the tale.”

Satisfied, Momon nodded and turned to Thanatos, the Grim Reaper. “Thanatos, you will remain here in Dragonspine. Scour these mountains thoroughly. Leave no corner unchecked. I want you to unearth its secrets and bring every inch under our control.”

The Grim Reaper lifted his hooded head, his skeletal face partially obscured in shadow, yet his red eyes glowed with a chilling intensity. “Your will is my command, my lord,” he rasped, his voice like frost on metal. “I will sweep through Dragonspine until all who dwell here either bow to your power or perish.”

Momon’s gaze shifted to the last of his generals, the Overlord General. He paused, regarding him thoughtfully before speaking. “And you, henceforth, shall be known as Titus. Your post will be the Guyun Stone Forest. It will be under your command. Root out every trace of trespassers, every whisper of resistance.”

The Overlord General—now Titus—bowed his head low. His silver armor gleamed in the dim light, the dragon-shaped pauldrons reflecting a fierce authority. “It shall be as you command, Supreme One. I will make the Guyun Stone Forest a monument to your might, a realm that only the dead may freely tread.”

Momon turned his gaze to the sprawled body of the slain Fatui soldier nearby, his expression sharpening. “Now listen carefully,” he continued, his voice cold and commanding. “These soldiers, known as the Fatui, are to be annihilated on sight if any more of them are lurking here. However, do not mistake them for adventurers or researchers—they are a dangerous faction that has no business on my lands.”

Each of the undead lords turned their gaze to the body, committing every detail of the Fatui’s uniform to memory—the stark black and red attire, the emblem, the specific armor features. Thanatos tilted his head slightly, inspecting the body with a detached curiosity, while Titus leaned closer, noting the insignias and unique weaponry that marked the Fatui as soldiers.

“We will not confuse the invaders,” rasped Thanatos, his voice like an oath sworn to the very ground beneath them. The Death Emperor and Titus each nodded, acknowledging the decree with grave finality.

Momon watched them, pleased. “Good. You all have your orders. These territories are now ours. Make them strongholds where even the most foolhardy fear to tread.”

Thanatos, Death Emperor, and Titus straightened, bowing deeply with hands crossed over their chests in loyalty.

Outside the tent, Momon’s gaze shifted to a peculiar scene—his Undead Berserker standing beside a cage, repeatedly kicking it with a heavy iron boot. Each impact rattled the cage and the occupant within—a hilichurl—shrieked in frustration, lunging at the bars with an almost animalistic fury.

“What are you doing, Berserker?” Momon demanded, his voice cutting through the chill air.

The Berserker paused, turning to his master. “This annoying goblin-like creature keeps growling at me, my Lord,” he growled in frustration, his hollow eyes fixed on the trembling hilichurl.

Momon sighed, gesturing dismissively. “Then bring the damn thing here, Berserker.”

“Yes, my Lord!” With brutish strength, the Berserker tore open the cage as if it were paper, ignoring the hilichurl’s frantic scratching. He gripped it by the back of the neck, hauling the flailing creature into the tent with a brutal efficiency.

Inside, Momon studied the struggling hilichurl with an unsettling calm, his skeletal gaze unwavering. He reached forward and pulled off its wooden mask, revealing a twisted, malformed face beneath. The hilichurl, suddenly vulnerable, snarled and spat a harsh, garbled string of sounds in a strange language, twisting in a futile attempt to break free from the Berserker’s grasp.

“Calm yourself,” Momon commanded, though he could see the creature was far from cooperative. He inspected the mask closely, turning it over in his hands, noticing that the hilichurl seemed even more desperate without it, almost as if it were a sacred possession. But there was something else—an unnatural, unsettling feeling emanating from the creature. He narrowed his eyes, sensing a hidden magic behind its rage.

Momon lifted a hand, casting a spell. “[Detect],” he murmured, his voice carrying a note of curiosity. A soft glow emerged from his palm, illuminating the hilichurl with an ethereal light. In that moment, Momon’s expression shifted. “So,” he muttered, “you’re under a curse… and not just any curse. An immortal one.”

The undead lords around him shifted with a sense of unease, drawn in by their master’s discovery. Momon’s skeletal fingers curled as he prepared his next spell. “Boys,” he addressed the undead around him, “I think we’re about to uncover a disturbing truth.” He stretched his hand toward the struggling hilichurl. “[Remove Curse],” he intoned, his voice echoing with power.

The spell took hold immediately. The hilichurl began to convulse, its dark, leathery skin seeming to blister and peel, flaking away like ash. Shadows writhed and lifted from its form, coalescing into a dark purple wisp of light that hovered in Momon’s palm, pulsing with a sinister energy. The hilichurl fell still, the energy dimming as it left the creature’s body. With a single wave of his hand, Momon purged the cursed essence, watching as it dissolved, its residue dissipating like a faintly glowing mist.

What was left was no longer a hilichurl. Instead, before them lay the emaciated, decayed body of a human—a rotting, pitiful corpse, with sunken eyes and hollowed cheeks, a shadow of whatever life it once held. Momon’s skeletal gaze lingered on the corpse, his mind churning with questions and intrigue.

“So… hilichurls are cursed humans,” he murmured, piecing the evidence together, his voice low with realization. “How interesting…”

The undead around him shifted, absorbing the revelation with a chilling silence. Momon’s thoughts raced as he surveyed the body. It was tragic, grotesque, and fascinating all at once. The transformation of humans into these so-called monsters was far darker than he had anticipated. And now that he knew, this knowledge only served to deepen his intrigue, hinting at layers of mystery within Teyvat.

"I wonder what the gods have to say about this."

Chapter Text

After giving orders to his undead lieutenants and putting them in their right place, Momon decided to remain in Dragonspine for a while. Accompanied by the Grim Reaper Thanatos, they ventured deeper into the Wyrmrest Valley, their path illuminated by the dim, cold light of the snow-draped landscape.

As they moved through the jagged terrain, Momon couldn’t shake the feeling that something monumental lay just beyond the horizon. The mountains loomed like ancient sentinels, and the whispering winds carried echoes of past battles. Soon, they encountered a group of Fatui patrolling the area, their insignias glinting menacingly in the pale sunlight.

With a swift motion, Thanatos drew his scythe, a chilling smile creeping across his skeletal visage. “Shall we, my lord?”

“Do as you will,” Momon replied, his tone calm and commanding.

In a flurry of movement, Thanatos struck, his blade slicing through the air with a ghostly precision. The Undead Berserker stood at the ready, adding to the chaos as the Fatui fell one by one, their shouts of surprise turning into desperate cries. Moments later, the clattering of armor and bodies echoed through the valley, and silence returned, punctuated only by the distant howl of the wind.

“Well, this one must have been one hell of a dragon,” said Momon, observing the aftermath of the skirmish. He turned to face the horizon, where the bones of a colossal dragon loomed, half-buried in the snow. “It might have been as large as the mountain itself.”

“My lord,” Thanatos said, his eyes glinting with intrigue as he pointed towards a cave partially obscured by a thick blanket of snow. “That cave over there—some strange energy is pulsing from it.”

Momon’s gaze followed Thanatos's finger, and he nodded. “Mhm, I’m feeling it too. Let’s go see what’s going on in there.”

They entered the cave, leaving the Berserker and the newly animated undead knights to patrol the area outside. As they stepped inside, the warmth enveloped them like a shroud, contrasting sharply with the biting cold outside. The air was thick and heavy, tinged with a faint, acrid scent.

The cave expanded into a cavernous space, illuminated by an eerie, red glow that pulsed rhythmically like a heartbeat. Momon’s eyes widened as he beheld a massive organism—or perhaps a massive, glowing heart—throbbing in the center of the chamber, its surface slick and glistening. The walls around them were veined, pulsating with the same unsettling energy that emanated from the heart.

“Could this be the heart of the dragon, my lord?” Thanatos asked, his voice reverberating in the stillness.

“I don’t know,” Momon replied, stepping closer to the pulsating mass. “But it seems like it.” He reached out, hesitantly touching the surface. A jolt of energy surged through him, and he grimaced. “Mhm, this thing is very alive… and also toxic.”

“Toxic?” Thanatos echoed, concern etched into his skeletal features.

“Yes, Thanatos. This is the same abyssal infection I saw in the body of Dvalin,” Momon explained, his brow furrowing. “So this dragon must be Durin, the one slain by Dvalin and Barbatos centuries ago. Strange to see his heart still alive.”

Thanatos regarded the heart with a mix of awe and unease. “Are you planning to resurrect this dragon, my lord?”

Momon shook his head slowly, considering the implications. “Not for now. It’s too big and could draw unwanted attention. But I want you to guard this area most diligently.”

“As you wish, my Lord.” Thanatos bowed his skull, the respect in his gesture palpable.

Momon stepped back, his mind racing with the possibilities. The heart pulsed steadily, an ancient power still flickering within, waiting for someone to unlock its potential. “Keep a watchful eye. If anyone approaches, I want to know immediately.”

“Understood. I shall stand guard,” Thanatos assured him, moving to a position where he could observe both the heart and the cave entrance.

Momon teleported to the bridge of Mondstadt, the sudden appearance of his dark figure sending a flock of doves fluttering away in panic. The Overlord's dread aura was palpable, a wave of foreboding that washed over the serene city. The knights guarding the gate straightened their postures, eyes widening as they recognized the masked figure. They knew this presence—he was the Honorary Knight, a legend among them.

As Momon stepped into the heart of Mondstadt, the usual vibrancy of the city remained, yet animals scurried away from him as if sensing the power he radiated. The citizens, however, were not deterred. They greeted him with smiles, a mix of admiration and unease washing over their faces. He moved through the bustling streets, nodding to those who called out to him, their voices warm and welcoming.

At the fountain in the center of the plaza, Momon spotted Venti, who was swaying slightly, a bottle of wine clutched in his hand. The bard's carefree demeanor seemed to blur with intoxication as he sang a raucous tune, his voice rising and falling with the wind.

“Hello, Venti,” Momon greeted, stepping closer.

“Hohoho! What winds have brought the great and mysterious Honorary Knight back to Mondstadt!” Venti exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He raised the bottle high as if toasting. “Let me sing a bard—for the great hero!”

Before Venti could commence another drunken serenade, Momon swiftly grabbed the bottle from his grasp, a bemused expression crossing his face. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Hey man, I sang all night for that bottle. It’s my reward!” Venti protested, a playful pout forming on his lips, his inebriated state apparent in the way his words slurred together.

“I don’t care about your ‘rewards,’ Venti. Momon said firmly, meeting Venti’s gaze with a serious expression. “We need to talk about something important.”

Venti’s expression faltered for a moment, the reality of the situation creeping in. “No can do! This is my time to relax, you see. I have to sing again tonight, and the wine helps my voice!” he insisted, trying to sway back into his carefree spirit.

“How about I give you ten bottles of wine?” Momon proposed, raising an eyebrow.

Venti’s demeanor shifted instantly, his eyes widening with delight. “But of course! Anything for the hero of Mondstadt!” He practically beamed, the prospect of ten bottles igniting a spark of excitement within him. “Come! I know a place where we can have a proper conversation.”

With that, Venti led Momon through the bustling streets, the bard weaving in and out of the crowd, his laughter infectious despite the serious undertone of their meeting. They arrived at a cozy tavern named Angel’s Share, its warm glow spilling out onto the cobblestone street. As they entered, the patrons turned to look, surprise evident on their faces at the sight of Momon stepping into their midst.

Momon, however, paid little mind to the startled glances and whispered conversations. He followed Venti up to the second floor, where a more private setting awaited. The noise of the tavern faded slightly as they settled into a corner booth, the ambiance shifting from bustling chatter to a more intimate atmosphere.

“Here we are!” Venti proclaimed, plopping down on a cushion as if the weight of the world had lifted from his shoulders. He leaned back, stretching his arms wide as he exhaled dramatically. “Up here It’s quieter,” Venti called, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm. “And the view is spectacular!”

Momon, sensing the excitement bubbling in Venti, reached out and touched a small portal that shimmered in the air beside him. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled out an elegantly crafted bottle of wine, the glass glinting under the warm tavern lights. The label was adorned with intricate designs, a mark of fine craftsmanship.

“Here,” Momon said, offering the bottle to Venti with a slight smirk. “This should make your day a little better.”

Venti’s eyes lit up as he took the bottle, running his fingers over the elegant label and admiring the craftsmanship. “Wow, this looks magnificent!” He turned it over in his hands, his brow furrowing with playful suspicion. “I wonder if it’s as good as Master Diluc’s wine.”

“Only one way to find out,” Momon replied, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, a satisfied expression on his face. He watched as Venti wasted no time, expertly removing the cork with a pop that echoed in the tavern’s cozy atmosphere.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Venti tipped the bottle back and took a generous swig. As the rich, velvety liquid flowed down his throat, his eyes widened in shock. For a moment, it seemed as though time stood still.

“By the heavens!” Venti exclaimed, nearly dropping the bottle in his astonishment. His expression shifted from surprise to sheer bliss as he wiped a tear from his cheek. “This… this is the best wine I have ever tasted in my entire existence!”

He set the bottle down on the table, still trembling from the experience. “I could feel the essence of Mondstadt in every drop! The notes of sweet anemo flowers, the hint of mountain air—oh, this is divine!” Venti leaned back, a dreamy smile gracing his lips as he savored the memory of the exquisite taste.

Momon chuckled, pleased to see Venti so moved. “You know, I figured you’d appreciate it. I wouldn’t want to waste a good bottle on just anyone.”

Venti clutched the bottle protectively as if it were a rare treasure. “You’re right! This is no ordinary wine! It deserves a grand celebration! We should gather everyone, and tell them the story of this glorious vintage!”

Momon shook his head, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Venti chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye as he took another sip. “Hehe, sorry, sorry! But this wine is so good—I simply must know where you found it!” he asked, raising the bottle in a toast to its mysterious origins.

Momon tilted his head, amusement flickering in his gaze. “I can create it with magic.”

Venti’s eyes widened, his grin growing even broader. “Ah, what an incredible magic to possess! Unlimited wine for eternity—now that’s what I call divine! If I had such magic, I’d be singing ballads from dusk ‘til dawn. You know, you could open a tavern with this! I’d be here every day and night, singing my heart out just for a taste.” He laughed, his voice filling the room with its bright, melodic sound.

Momon let out a low chuckle. “Well, it will take some time to alter my domain and set up something permanent,” he said, a hint of mystery in his voice, “but I am working toward that goal.”

“Your domain?” Venti echoed, his curiosity piqued. “What are you talking about, exactly?”

Momon leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering as he spoke. “The lands beyond Mondstadt—the Dragonspine and the ruins of Old Mondstadt. I’ve decided that from now on, those lands will be known as Nazarick.”

Venti raised an eyebrow, momentarily surprised. “Nazarick, huh? Sounds rather ominous,” he mused, swirling the wine in the bottle. “But…you’re not expecting me to get mad about that, are you?”

Momon’s gaze remained steady. “Will you?”

Venti broke into a carefree laugh, waving a hand dismissively. “Nah, not at all! Why would I? Those lands have had countless names over the centuries; they’ve seen heroes, kings, and entire eras come and go. They’ve belonged to the winds and the snow and everything in between,” he said with a carefree shrug. “If they’re Nazarick now, so be it.”

He took another long drink, letting out a sigh of contentment. “I think I like the name, actually. It has…a certain mystique.” He gave Momon a playful grin. “Though, you’ll owe me a few more of these magnificent bottles if I’m to bless the name with one of my songs!”

Momon leaned back, a faint smile on his face. “Deal. And maybe I’ll even have you compose an anthem for Nazarick one day.”

Venti laughed, raising the bottle in mock solemnity. “It would be my honor, mysterious knight. But only if I get first dibs on the wine supply!”

Venti took another sip of wine, then leaned back in his chair, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he looked at Momon. “Anyway, I heard about your deeds in Liyue. The merchants here are praising you to the heavens,” he said, his voice a bit softer. “Fighting an army of Adepti and even defeating the ancient Overlord of Vortex… People are starting to believe you’re some kind of god.”

Momon tilted his head slightly, the shadow of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Let them think what they want,” he replied. “A reputation can be a powerful shield.”

Venti nodded thoughtfully, then sighed, his gaze drifting to the bottle in his hand. “But Morax being assassinated… that’s just horrible.” His voice held a note of sadness. “To think the Geo Archon himself would fall…”

Momon watched him carefully, his voice steady and measured. “Venti, the Gnosis was taken from you by force, but what if I told you that good ol' Morax gave his Gnosis to the same Harbinger in the form of a contract?”

Venti’s hand froze mid-sip, his eyes widening in shock as he slowly lowered the bottle. “You don’t say…” he whispered, the shock giving way to a knowing smile. “Of course, he’d pull something like that. That grandpa is as old as the rocks he commands and has ruled over Liyue for three thousand years. Still…” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t tell me you got tangled up in one of his plans?”

Momon’s expression darkened slightly, his jaw tightening. “True, and I messed those plans up more than once. And yet, in the end, I found out he was still alive all along—working hand in hand with the Fatui.”

At this, Venti’s mouth fell open before he let out a delighted laugh, his hand slapping the table in mirth. “Oh, that is too rich! I wish I could have seen his face! It must have been glorious, all his plans, all his schemes suddenly unraveling.” He leaned forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Did he look shocked? Did he finally crack that stone-cold expression of his?”

Momon leaned forward, his gaze sharp and serious. “Something like that,” he said, his voice lowering. “But, Venti, we’ve strayed far from the real topic. I came here to ask you about the hilichurls.”

Venti blinked, visibly caught off guard. “Hilichurls?” He gave a short, puzzled laugh, leaning back slightly. “I… I’m not sure what exactly you’re hoping to learn. They’re just… well, they’re hilichurls, aren’t they? Misguided, troublesome creatures, always popping up in the wilds. Why the sudden interest?”

Momon’s gaze remained unyielding. “While traveling in Dragonspine, I found a hilichurl trapped in a cage by the Fatui and decided to conduct a little experiment. It was then that I discovered something troubling. The creature was possessed by an… immortal curse.”

At the mention of the curse, Venti froze, his fingers tightening around his bottle. His expression shifted, a hint of discomfort flashing in his eyes, and he swallowed, his usual light-hearted demeanor dampened by an underlying tension.

Noticing Venti’s reaction, Momon pressed on, his voice edged with curiosity and something darker. “You seem uneasy, Venti. Do you know anything about this?” he asked, his tone almost accusatory. “Because it seems that all hilichurls suffer from this curse.”

Venti's smile faltered, though he quickly tried to hide it with a nervous laugh. “Haha… I… I’m not really sure about any curses, to be honest. But, did you… did you manage to break it?” He leaned in, forcing a lighthearted smile but unable to fully mask the discomfort in his eyes.

Momon watched him closely, noting every shift in his expression. He knows something, Momon thought. Venti’s discomfort was unmistakable, and his curiosity sharpened, sensing the Archon’s struggle to keep something hidden.

“Yes, I did break it,” Momon replied, his tone calm but probing, letting the weight of his words sink in. “And do you want to know what happened next?” He paused, giving Venti just enough time for the tension to rise. “The hilichurl transformed back into a human—a human body, lifeless and… very rotten.”

“I have never met a person so mysterious and strange as you Momon but at this point, I should tell you the truth even though I might get punished by the Heavenly Principles.”

Momon listened intently, his piercing gaze fixed on Venti as he shared the secrets of the past. Venti’s voice, normally so carefree, was heavy with the weight of memories, each word revealing a painful history buried under centuries of silence.

“Five hundred years ago,” Venti began, his voice lowering as if to keep his words hidden from unseen listeners, “there was a kingdom—a place called Khaenri’ah. Unlike the seven nations of today, this kingdom had no god. It was governed entirely by humans, humans who were brilliant, fearless, and endlessly curious. They advanced their knowledge, their technology, and their society to heights rarely seen.” He paused, casting a wary glance around as if the shadows might betray his confession.

Momon’s non-existing expression didn’t change, but he inclined his head slightly, encouraging Venti to continue.

“But…” Venti’s face darkened. “Their curiosity, their desire to surpass the divine, led them down dangerous paths. They tampered with powerful alchemy, dabbling in secrets best left forgotten, and used forbidden knowledge to craft new lifeforms. These creatures… they were not natural. They bore the taint of the Abyss, twisted in both mind and body.” He took a deep breath, his eyes filled with regret and something deeper—an ancient sorrow. “These creations went wild and spread across Teyvat, bringing with them destruction on a scale unseen before.”

Momon absorbed the information in silence, the weight of Venti’s words settling like a dark fog. “So, this ‘Cataclysm’… it was sparked by Khaenri’ah’s hand, then?” he asked, his voice calm but edged with understanding.

Venti nodded solemnly. “Yes. When the other nations felt the Abyssal corruption spreading, when monsters began pouring from the darkness, they had no choice but to intervene. The gods themselves descended upon Khaenri’ah, and…” he hesitated, looking pained, “the kingdom was destroyed, along with most of its people. It was… the will of the Heavenly Principles.”

Momon’s eyes narrowed slightly, sensing Venti’s unspoken guilt. “And the hilichurls?”

Venti’s voice softened, his usual playfulness replaced by a deep solemnity. “Because of the Cataclysm, the people of Khaenri’ah are deemed the ‘greater sinners,’” he began, his gaze fixed on some distant memory. “Those of pure-blood descent... they were cursed with immortality—a life of endless watching, endless suffering. But for everyone else? The half-bloods, those who had roots in other nations... they were condemned to something even worse. The ‘curse of the wilderness’ twisted them into monstrosities, creatures that no longer recognize their own faces. Hilichurls, Abyss Mages, Abyss Lectors, Abyss Heralds… all of them are what’s left of Khaenri’ah’s once proud people.”

Momon’s expression darkened as he processed the truth. “So, the hilichurls… they are the remnants of an entire civilization.”

Venti nodded, an uncharacteristic bitterness flickering in his eyes. “Yes. An entire kingdom, stripped of its future, its dignity, reduced to nothing but wandering souls and broken bodies.” He hesitated, the weight of his own guilt pressing down on him like a storm cloud. “And as much as I despise it... I was one of the gods who took part in that destruction. I was there when the heavens raged and the earth split apart.”

Momon’s gaze sharpened as he leaned closer to Venti, his voice low and contemplative. “So, you’re saying that the monsters they created went wild… but did Khaenri’ah really face not only Celestia and their own creations but also the wrath of the Archons in the middle of all this chaos?”

Venti sighed, a rare seriousness overtaking his usual carefree demeanor as he looked down at the wine bottle still gripped in his hands. “Momon, Khaenri’ah wasn’t just any kingdom. They were formidable, a nation of innovation, driven by a desire for freedom—freedom even from the gods. They dared to defy Celestia’s rule openly. Their power was immense, so much so that they weren’t just prepared to defend themselves; they were actively preparing for war, dreaming of overthrowing the Heavenly Principles.”

He took a long sip as if trying to ease the weight of memories far older than Mondstadt itself. “But their ambitions came with a cost,” he continued his voice barely above a whisper. “Weapons of mass destruction, created solely for the purpose of tearing down the heavens. They were relentless. It wasn’t enough to push back Celestia. They wanted to bring it down, to claim their own place among the stars. In this dark event, three Archons died.”

Momon’s voice was steady, but beneath it lay a trace of cold resolve. “Hmm, I can see why Celestia acted as it did. Humanity’s ambition has no bounds—they endlessly seek control, power, dominion.” His gaze drifted, as if remembering scenes far from Teyvat. In his mind’s eye, he saw flashes of a world he had left behind: skyscrapers stretching into the sky, machines of war, and weapons capable of obliterating nations with a single strike. Earth’s history had proven that humanity would pursue dominance no matter the cost.

Venti watched him, eyes narrowed with curiosity, before quietly asking, “Momon… what exactly are you?” He seemed to study every detail of Momon’s masked face, as if searching for answers in the mystery before him.

For a long moment, Momon was silent, holding Venti’s gaze. The question lingered between them, heavy with curiosity and caution. But rather than answering... “Thanks for the information, Venti. And as promised…” With a casual flick of his hand, ten bottles of exquisite wine materialized on the table, each one rich with aroma and deep red in color.

Venti’s eyes sparkled, and in an instant, the solemn atmosphere evaporated. “Woho! This is paradise—I’m about to dig in!” He clasped his hands in childlike delight, the tension of the conversation slipping away as he reached eagerly for the bottles.

But before he left, Momon’s hand rested on Venti’s shoulder, his voice calm but firm. “Venti, if Celestia ever comes for you… I will be there to protect you.”

Surprised, Venti looked up at him, his expression softening. The gratitude was there, though unspoken, and for a brief moment, Venti’s mischievous cheer was replaced by something more profound. “Thank you, Momon.” The words came quietly, carrying the weight of someone who had watched over Mondstadt and its people for centuries, yet seldom had someone to watch over him.

Momon extended his hand, and Venti took it. They exchanged a look that held both friendship and an unspoken understanding of the worlds they’d come from and the ones they sought to protect.

Then, without another word, Momon turned and left the tavern, his cloak billowing behind him

The once silent and haunting ruins of Old Mondstadt, known now as Stormterror’s Lair, were now a battleground. The scattered tribes of hilichurls who called this ancient land home were falling to a terrifying force. Hulking, unnatural beings had arrived, cutting down any resistance that came their way. Massive and clad in armor so thick that no hilichurl spear or arrow could hope to pierce it, these newcomers moved like shadows of death across the land.

The hilichurls had tried everything to defend themselves. They hurled rocks, unleashed flaming arrows, and threw themselves fearlessly into battle—but it was all in vain. The newcomers were impervious, unaffected even by the fiercest attacks.

A hilichurl with a makeshift club in hand stood at the edge of the ruins, watching in horror as another of his kin was struck down effortlessly. He could see the grim figures moving closer, their weapons gleaming under the pale light that filtered through the broken stone walls.

As he began to flee, he caught sight of a monstrous figure standing atop a broken archway, overlooking the carnage below. It was larger than the others, with a sword as long as a man was tall and eyes that glowed a deep, unnatural red. It raised its weapon, a silent command, and the slaughter continued.

An Abyss Mage, clad in dark robes and shimmering with the ethereal blue of his cryo aura, staggered back, his heart pounding as he took in the carnage. All around him, his hilichurl minions lay broken and lifeless, their bodies mangled and scattered like discarded dolls. He’d been tasked by the “Princess” herself to oversee a mysterious mission here in Old Mondstadt—but this was no ordinary threat he’d anticipated.

“What in the Abyss is going on?!” he shouted, desperation edging his voice as he looked around frantically for an escape route.

The ground trembled beneath him as a shadow loomed, blocking his path. One of the monstrous figures advanced with slow, deliberate steps, its armor nearly black under the dim, fractured light. In its hands, a massive mace, spiked and dripping with blood, swung lightly, as though it were a simple toy rather than a weapon of death. With every footfall, the ground shuddered, and the Mage felt a suffocating dread creep into his chest.

“These... these are no mere humans! What manner of beast has come to this forsaken land?” The Mage muttered, his hands glowing as he prepared a cryo shield, hoping to hold off the advancing terror.

But as the Abyss Mage cast his spell, the creature simply swung its mace with astonishing speed. The force of the blow shattered the cryo shield in an instant, sending icy shards scattering like broken glass. The Mage stumbled back, gasping, clutching at his chest as he felt the icy remnants of his magic dissolve.

“You... you won’t stop me! I was sent here by the Princess herself!” he screamed, his voice shrill with fear as he conjured a desperate frost attack, sending jagged ice spears at the monster.

Yet the figure seemed unfazed, the ice shards glancing harmlessly off its armor with dull thuds. Without a word, it raised its mace again, preparing to deliver the final blow.

The Abyss Mage's pulse quickened, his cloak whipping behind him as he fled upwards, his frantic breaths piercing the cold air of Mondstadt. Behind him, the sounds of slaughter echoed, the relentless crushing of the hilichurl tribs beneath the invincible forces of his pursuers. His eyes darted over his shoulder, but the figures chasing him were relentless, impossible to outrun. His only chance now was to complete the mission—the very mission that had brought him here.

He gritted his teeth, forcing his body to fly faster, his dark magic propelling him upward with unnatural speed. The tower was so close now.

He reached the towering structure, a looming silhouette against the moonlit sky, and shot toward the summit. His heart leapt when he saw the ruin: the wreckage of an ancient Ruin Guard, its massive metal form broken and scorched from some past battle.

"This is it...!" the Mage muttered under his breath, eyes gleaming with anticipation. He circled the fallen machine, its cold, lifeless body sprawled across the stonework like a discarded toy. There, nestled in the core of its massive chest, was the prize he had been sent to collect—the Field Tiller eye.

With a triumphant hiss, the Abyss Mage extended his hands, his magic swirling darkly as he conjured a vortex of force. "Yes, yes, this is it! The first-ever Field Tiller... This is the key to everything."

His fingers twitched as the eye slowly pulled free, glowing faintly in the air as if calling to him. He grasped it eagerly, his smile widening. "The Princess will be pleased. With this, we can finally overthrow the gods themselves. Celstia, the Archons, they'll all fall before us..." His words grew more fervent as he cradled the eye in his hands, marveling at its power.

His thoughts were consumed with visions of the chaos he would unleash, the revolution he would bring. He was so close, so close to fulfilling his mission. The anticipation sent a shiver down his spine, the air crackling with the promise of something monumental.

But then...

The air suddenly grew colder. The world around him seemed to shift.

A shadow fell over him.

The Abyss Mage froze. His senses screamed at him, a deep, primal warning that he couldn’t shake. His heart pounded in his chest, his body tense. Before he could react, the sound of something massive slicing through the air echoed behind him.

A moment later, the Abyss Mage felt it— a sharp, overwhelming force tearing through him.

The massive sword descended from above, faster than he could even blink. It cleaved through him effortlessly, the blade cutting through his body like butter. His magic sputtered, the abyssal energies swirling uncontrollably before dissipating with a final gasp.

The Mage’s breath caught in his throat as his body was split in two, the world around him turning to blinding pain. His magic faltered, the energy dissipating as the sword’s edge finally came to a rest. The glowing Field Tiller eye slipped from his grasp and tumbled to the cold stone, forgotten, a hollow echo of the Mage's failure.

Blood spurted, dark and sticky, splattering across the ground as his body fell lifeless.

From the shadows, a figure emerged—tall, imposing, and cloaked in ominous armor. The faint glow of crimson eyes cut through the darkness like a beacon. The figure's hand remained tightly wrapped around the hilt of the massive sword, now stained with the Mage’s blood.

The Death Emperor stood over the lifeless form of the Abyss Mage, his crimson eyes glowing faintly beneath the dark hood and helmet that shrouded his face. His massive frame, encased in dark, armor-like bones, loomed menacingly over the wreckage of the battlefield. The air around him was thick with the scent of death and destruction—his undead soldiers had already obliterated most of the hilichurls, and the few that remained scattered in terror.

The Death Emperor’s hand moved as though guided by some ancient force, reaching down to retrieve the glowing Field Tiller eye that had slipped from the Mage’s grasp. His gloved skeletal fingers wrapped around it, and a quiet hum of energy filled the air. His head tilted slightly as he examined the artifact in his palm.

“Hmm…” he murmured in a voice that sounded like the grinding of tombstones, low and hollow. The eye pulsed with an eerie light, radiating strange, unfamiliar energy that the Death Emperor could feel resonating through his bones. He raised it closer to his face, studying it with the kind of curiosity reserved for something dangerous yet intriguing.

“Interesting,” the Death Emperor continued, his voice almost a whisper. “This lower lifeform was after this thing.” His voice was void of emotion, but there was an undercurrent of intrigue. He had no particular use for the Field Tiller eye, but its power was undeniable. He could sense the faint hum of its energy, something. A weapon, perhaps. A key.

“I’ll hand it over to Lord Momon,” the Death Emperor muttered, his skeletal gaze narrowing, his decision final. “He will know what to do with it.” His fingers tightened around the eye, the eerie glow illuminating the darkened remnants of the battlefield, casting long shadows over the broken bodies of his enemies.

He looked out into the distance, hearing the faintest sounds of the remaining hilichurls trying to regroup, their fearful cries cutting through the silence. His expression, hidden beneath his helmet, remained impassive, but the faintest flicker of amusement seemed to dance in the air around him.

“I’ll take care of these scumbags first,” the Death Emperor said with a cruel chuckle. His voice held the promise of pain, of a relentless force that would not rest until every last enemy had been eradicated.

Chapter Text

Momon stood on the windswept cliff, his gaze fixed on the desolate ruins of Old Mondstadt, shadows cast by the broken towers and shattered stone stretching out beneath him. The chilling wind carried the scent of decay and echoes of the recent massacre led by his subordinate, the Death Emperor. He held in his gloved hand the eye of the Ruin Guard, its smooth, mechanical surface glinting faintly as it pulsed with an inner glow.

Turning the strange artifact over in his hand, Momon contemplated its purpose. Unlike magical artifacts, this piece lacked any significant arcane properties, yet it hummed with an endless source of raw energy. The energy felt powerful enough to sustain a construct—perhaps even power a Golem indefinitely without draining precious mana. In theory, it could create an unyielding machine warrior, an eternal sentinel.

But Momon’s interest in machinery had long since soured. Memories flickered back from a life he’d left behind—of a world consumed by weaponized technology, a place where lives were measured in numbers and war was mechanized and impersonal. Machines were nothing more than tools of mass destruction, weapons controlled by those with insatiable ambitions. The idea disgusted him now, even more so in this world of Teyvat, where life was bound to the arcane, to souls, to elements.

“Just a hollow shell,” Momon muttered, slipping the eye of the Ruin Guard back into his inventory. For now, it was a curiosity, a remnant of human ingenuity intertwined with hubris. The thought of reanimating such a soulless thing felt meaningless. No mere machine could match the disciplined relentlessness of his undead legions, nor the terrifying power of his high-ranking undead subordinates, each of whom was imbued with purpose and loyalty beyond what any golem or automaton could hope to achieve.

The Death Emperor, silent and steadfast, waited nearby. His bone-crafted form loomed in the shadows, radiating the unmistakable aura of death itself. As Momon’s gaze shifted to his subordinate, he spoke, his voice cold but resolute.

“This item may hold energy, but it’s nothing more than a relic of a dead civilization. Machines… they are the same everywhere, hollow tools for hollow men,” he said, a faint trace of disdain threading his words. “The soul’s power—the arcane, the unknown—that’s what holds true strength.”

The Death Emperor nodded in silent agreement. Momon took one last look at the ruins below before he turned to his loyal subordinate.

“Death Emperor… Hmm, let’s just call you Roman from now on,” he said, his tone conveying both authority and finality.

Roman's skeletal form bowed deeply, his crimson eyes flickering with an almost reverent glow. “Thank you for bestowing me with a name, my Lord,” he intoned, his voice a low and resonant echo.

“Roman,” Momon continued, “these ruins are nothing but massive graveyards. Let’s put that to use—raise the corpses scattered here, and start rebuilding this city. I know construction isn’t your purpose, but I think creating some Elder Liches and Demi Liches to assist the skeleton undead could prove quite effective.”

Roman tilted his skull, considering Momon’s plan. “It will be done, my Lord, but… may I trouble you with a suggestion?” he asked carefully. “If you were to create a Crypt Lord, I believe it would be far more efficient. Such an undead could oversee construction and manage the lesser undead with greater coordination than an Elder or Demi Lich.”

Momon considered Roman's suggestion with a nod. “You know what, Roman, you’re absolutely right. A Crypt Lord would handle the scale of this operation much better.” He folded his arms, surveying the decayed city around him. “Gather some hilichurl corpses for now, and we’ll begin. I want this done quickly and efficiently.”

“At once, my Lord,” Roman replied, and with a slight gesture, he summoned several lesser undead from the shadows, sending them to scavenge the remains scattered throughout Old Mondstadt.

Momon then added a new instruction, his tone sharp. “Roman, remember what I’ve told you—do not harm civilians or adventurers who may wander too close. You’re to place yourself as a guard here. Put on a helmet to conceal your skull and tell any intruders that entry to Old Mondstadt is strictly forbidden. If you encounter the Fatui, however…” he paused, “...well, I think you know what to do.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Roman affirmed, a glint of satisfaction lighting his crimson eyes as he bowed. “I will be strategically careful.”

Momon got done summoning the Crypt Lord and a few Elder Liches so he left, leaving his undead subordinates to continue the work. He was walking south enjoying looking at the beautiful nature of this land.

He looked down the canyon. The path or corridor leading to Old Mondstadt was being guarded by his undead warriors. Right now, things are going great at controlling his new domains.

After walking for about an hour, he had reached an unknown territory. There were wolves everywhere and they were howling loudly. Momon could sense the power of Abyss nearby.

He turned his skull and sensed that the power was coming from the southeast. Momon decided to follow where the abyssal energy was coming from. He walked for like ten minutes until he reached a wide massive pit.

In the center of the pit, the source of the strange energy became clear.

A massive, colossal wolf, lay in the center, trapped within a circle of glowing, abyssal chains. Its body was strong, every muscle rippling with raw power, yet it lay immobilized by the chains that wrapped tightly around its torso and limbs. The chains thrummed with a dark energy, almost as though they were alive, feeding off the wolf’s struggles and sapping its strength.

Momon’s gaze fixed on the creature. The wolf’s fur was a mix of dark silvers and midnight blues, matted with dirt and blood, and its eyes burned with an unnatural blue glow that flickered with both anger and pain. Despite its immense size, it was clearly in a vulnerable state, its movements strained, the chains binding it with overwhelming force.

Besides the giant wolf was a young boy who was trying to protect the wolf from two strange tall creatures of the Abyss Order. There were also four Abyss Mages with hilichurl minions that had surrounded the wolf.

Momon observed the struggle from the edge of the pit, his gaze fixated on the bound Lupus Boreas as he carefully slid his mask back over his skeletal visage. His eye sockets flared with a cold, eerie light as he assessed the situation. The mighty wolf spirit was bound tightly by chains pulsating with dark energy, helpless before the Abyss Heralds, who now loomed over him, their twisted forms shrouded in Abyssal mist.

The eerie glow of the abyssal chains cast a sickly light over the pit, twisting the shadows around Lupus Boreas as he struggled against his bonds. His spectral form strained, muscles bunching beneath the weight of his captivity. Yet no matter how he fought, the chains held firm, each link pulsing with a cruel, cold power.

The Abyss Heralds watched with expressions of dark amusement. One of them stepped forward, his jagged, obsidian armor gleaming as he sneered. “Ahahaha, Lupus Boreas, the once-mighty Wolf God, brought to heel by the Abyss. Your claws, once sharp enough to strike fear into any foe, have dulled over the centuries. Look at you now, suffering like a caged beast.”

The boy had wild, silver hair and fierce eyes, his voice a raw shout of defiance. “Leave Lupus Boreas alone!” Razor’s voice trembled with fury, his fists clenched as lightning crackled faintly around his hands. He knew his strength paled before the Abyss Heralds, yet he would defend his Lupical with all he had.

The great wolf turned his gaze toward Razor, a faint glint of pride in his dimming eyes. “Human Lupical,” Boreas rumbled, his voice weakened but resolute, “leave this place. I shall resist the cursed Abyss with all the strength left in me.” His growl echoed in the pit, but even he knew his words were more for Razor’s reassurance than his own.

Boreas attempted to rise, muscles trembling under the strain, but the chains tightened, forcing him back to the ground with a painful howl. The Abyss Heralds only laughed, relishing his agony.

Another Abyss Herald approached, his voice dark and enticing. “Why suffer, Lupus Boreas, when you could be free? Join us, and you shall have back all the power you once wielded. Stand with the Abyss, and together we will be unstoppable.”

“Lies!” Boreas snarled, his voice reverberating with anger. “You cursed creatures taint the world with your corruption. I would sooner be destroyed than stand by your side.” His growl was fierce, but the chains reacted, tightening further, pulling him down with renewed force.

The first Herald stepped closer, a sinister gleam in his eyes as he raised his staff toward Boreas. “It does not matter, stubborn beast. You have rejected our offer, and so we shall do this the hard way. Your will shall be broken, and when the ceremony is complete, you will serve the Princess of the Abyss Order!”

The second Herald began chanting, his voice a twisted melody that seemed to pull the darkness in around them. The ground trembled, and the chains wrapped tighter, beginning to pulse with a dark, invasive energy. Boreas’s howls of defiance grew quieter, his strength ebbing as the abyssal magic seeped into his very being.

Suddenly, a sharp crack echoed through the pit, followed by a crash. Something heavy had fallen into the pit, landing squarely atop an unsuspecting Abyss Mage, who crumpled beneath the impact with a sickening crunch. Dust swirled into the air, and the Abyss Heralds froze, momentarily distracted by the intrusion.

As the dust settled, a cloaked figure emerged from the haze. The dark silhouette was imposing, his presence radiating an eerie power that silenced even the Heralds’ mocking laughter. Momon stood, his mask gleaming faintly in the dim light, concealing his skeletal visage but not his intent. He glanced down at the crushed Abyss Mage beneath his boot and flicked it aside with disdain.

One of the Heralds hissed in fury. “Who dares interrupt the will of the Abyss?” he snarled, his voice thick with contempt.

Momon stood motionless, his crimson eyes glowing ominously beneath his mask. He scanned the scene: the massive wolf bound in chains, the young boy standing defensively, bruised yet defiant, and the array of Abyss creatures encircling them.

"Hello gentlemen, I shall let you know, the fun is over" spoke Momon.

The second Herald laughed, though it was more a desperate sound than one of genuine amusement. “You think you can interfere? You are dealing with forces beyond mortal understanding! Lupus Boreas will be a servant of the Abyss, whether he wills it or not!”

Momon’s crimson eyes narrowed. He stepped forward, each footfall sending a dark pulse through the ground, which seemed to whisper and tremble in response. “Your ‘ceremony’ ends now. I don’t tolerate disturbances like this.”

The Heralds hesitated. One of them scoffed, trying to mask his fear. “Such arrogance… You’ll regret standing in our way!”

One of the Abyss Heralds sneered, recovering from his shock. “Another fool dares to interfere. And who might you be, armored stranger?” His voice dripped with arrogance, though a flicker of unease lingered in his tone.

Momon didn’t answer right away, his gaze instead drifting to Lupus Boreas, who strained against his chains, a fierce snarl echoing through the pit. Then he looked to the Abyss Herald, his voice ringing out with a chilling calm. “I don’t usually bother myself with small matters, but you,” he pointed to the Heralds with a slow, deliberate movement, “you’ve encroached upon my territory. I can’t allow that.”

The second Herald laughed, though his eyes remained wary. “Your territory? You must be delusional. We are here under the command of the Abyss Princess herself. This world will bend to the Abyss Order’s will, including all those within it.”

The Abyss Mages formed a circle around Momon, their hands crackling with pyro and electro energy. They launched a barrage of elemental attacks, bolts of fire and lightning converging toward him. But each strike fizzled out, disintegrating as they neared his form, repelled by an unseen aura.

One of the Mages sneered. “What is he, some kind of shielded monster?”

Unfazed, Momon raised one hand, his voice echoing through the pit with chilling authority. "[Hell Fire Wall]."

The air itself seemed to ignite as a massive wall of flames erupted around him, spreading outward in a scorching wave. The Abyss Mages barely had time to scream before the inferno consumed them, the flames roaring higher with each passing second. Hilichurls caught in the blaze stumbled, desperately trying to escape, but the fire was unrelenting.

When the flames finally died down, nothing remained of the Mages and hilichurls but smoldering ash scattered across the scorched earth. The surrounding air hung heavy with the scent of burnt embers, and a faint glow lingered around Momon, as though the fire was still within his command.

The tall Abyss Herald’s laughter echoed through the pit. “Hah, pathetic! You shall face the true power of the Abyss Order!” With a flick of his wrists, dual blades unfolded, gleaming with cursed energy. He surged forward like a storm, his form blurring with speed as he appeared in front of Momon, thrusting his blades straight toward his chest.

But in an instant—almost too fast to see—the Abyss Herald staggered back, looking down in confusion. His right arm was no longer there, severed so cleanly that it took a moment for the pain to reach his senses. As he finally registered what had happened, his scream tore through the pit. “No… no way!” he shouted, clutching the bleeding stump in horror.

Momon’s voice was cold, mocking. “I thought you were about to show me the ‘power’ of the Abyss Order,” His words cut sharper than any blade.

The Herald’s defiance faltered, fear flashing in his eyes, but before he could even react, Momon’s boot connected with his chest. The impact was thunderous, the force of the kick sending the Herald hurtling back like a missile. His body crashed into the stone wall of the pit with a sickening crunch, embedding him deep into the rock. Dust and debris exploded from the impact, cloaking him in a thick cloud.

As the dust began to settle, the second Abyss Herald took a step back, his face twisted with terror. His comrade was slumped within the stone, half-dead and barely clinging to life. The sheer, brutal strength of this masked figure was something he had never seen before since the fall of Khaenri'ah.

“You…!” the remaining Herald stammered, disbelief etched in his voice. He was rooted in place, struggling to find his composure. “Now I remember… you’re the one they call the monster. The creature that defeated Dvalin… and crushed Osial!”

Razor, who had been watching the confrontation with wide, astonished eyes, now spoke up, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and excitement. “The tall masked… Honorary Knight!” he breathed, recognizing the mysterious warrior he had only heard stories about.

Momon raised a gloved hand, halting the Abyss Herald’s desperate plea. His piercing gaze bore into the Herald, unshaken by the Herald’s shock. “Wait, servant of the Abyss Order. I have a question,” he stated coolly, his tone unbothered and commanding. With a flick of his wrist, a dark portal opened beside him, and from it, he pulled a peculiar object—a metallic sphere with a faint crimson glow emanating from within. He held it up between two fingers, observing it with detached curiosity. “What is this thing?” he asked.

The Abyss Herald’s face twisted with horror and astonishment. “The—The Eye of the First Field Tiller!” His voice quivered as he stared at the object that the Abyss Order had sought for so long. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. This item was vital, a key to the Order’s most secretive and ambitious plan against the Heavenly Principles. “Hand it over!” he demanded, his voice laced with desperation.

A low, mocking laugh escaped Momon. “I don’t think you’re in any position to give orders,” he replied, glancing at the first Herald, who remained pinned to the wall, bloodied and half-conscious. “Unless, of course, you’d like to end up just like your friend over there.”

The Abyss Herald swallowed his pride, realizing his options were slim. “If…if I tell you its purpose, would you consider giving it back?” he ventured, his voice dropping to an almost pleading tone.

“That depends,” Momon replied, his gaze inscrutable behind his mask.

The Herald hesitated, but the need for the Eye drove him to speak. “The Eye of the First Field Tiller is the central component of a device known as the Loom of Fate. This device grants the power to manipulate the Ley Lines themselves.”

Momon raised an eyebrow, feigning mild curiosity. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“Control of the Ley Lines means control over the very essence of Teyvat’s reality,” the Herald explained, his tone feverish with ambition. “Ley Lines are pathways of memories, elemental power that flows through this world. With the Loom of Fate, we would command all of Teyvat—its past, its present, and its future. We would reshape reality itself! The Abyss Order will rise to conquer, and those self-righteous gods of Celestia, their servants, the Archons—they will all fall. Teyvat will be ours to mold as we see fit.”

Momon’s eyes gleamed with intrigue, his mind racing. “A device that can alter reality… How curious. The Loom of Fate sounds like it has the same potential as a World-Class Item in YGGDRASIL. Could it be comparable to the Ouroboros or the Five Elements Overcoming?” he mused, weighing the gravity of the Herald’s words. “This organization clearly doesn’t grasp the scale of what they’re meddling with. Such power, if it indeed rivals a World-Class Item, is far too dangerous to be in the hands of such fools.”

After a contemplative pause, Momon finally spoke, his voice brimming with interest. “Interesting. Very interesting.”

The Abyss Herald, sensing a flicker of hope, seized the opportunity. “Then…perhaps you’ll consider an alliance? Hand over the Eye, and the Abyss Order shall forever hold you in high regard, Master Momon. You would have our eternal gratitude, and together—”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Momon interrupted, the slightest hint of amusement flickering in his tone. But without any further warning, he tossed the Eye of the First Field Tiller high into the air, its gleaming surface catching the faint light as it soared.

“No!” the Abyss Herald’s eyes widened in horror, his arm outstretched in a futile attempt to catch the device.

Momon’s eyes flashed coldly. “[Explosion].” A pulse of his magic filled the air, and with a deafening boom, the Eye burst into a thousand glinting shards, obliterated beyond any hope of repair.

“NOOOO!” The Herald’s scream echoed through the pit, laced with agony and disbelief. He staggered forward, hands clenching as he fell to his knees, staring at the raining fragments of his organization’s precious artifact. “What have you done?! Do you realize what you’ve destroyed?”

Momon crossed his arms, gazing down at the Herald with an air of utter indifference. “I knew enough to see that such power shouldn’t be left in the hands of amateurs. The Abyss Order is playing with forces it doesn’t understand.”

“You…you monster!” The Herald’s voice was a mixture of anger and despair, but he could not look Momon in the eye. “You’ve ruined everything!”

Momon’s laughter filled the pit, calm and dismissive. “I believe I’ve merely done you all a favor. Teyvat has no need for a second-rate imitation of true power.” His voice turned cold, a final warning ringing in his words. “And you would do well to remember that.”

Momon watched as the Abyss Herald snarled with fury, his voice shaking with hatred. “You will pay for this! You will pay!” he barked, eyes burning with resentment. The Herald staggered backward, gripping his injured comrade and muttering an incantation under his breath. A swirling mass of dark energy gathered at their feet, shrouding them in an ominous haze of Abyssal power.

With one last glare, the two Heralds disappeared in a burst of shadows, their enraged voices echoing faintly in the air as they vanished from Wolvendom.

As the silence returned, Razor stepped forward, his wide-eyed gaze shifting from where the Abyss Heralds had stood to the towering figure of Momon. The young boy’s voice, rough but filled with gratitude, broke the quiet. “You saved Lupus Boreas… and me. Thank you, tall masked warrior.”

Momon looked down at Razor, his imposing form casting a long shadow across the ground. “It was nothing,” he replied, his voice calm yet firm. “The Abyss Order has no right to interfere here.”

He turned his gaze to the wolf god, still bound by chains but slowly regaining his strength. With a sweep of his hand, Momon dispelled the lingering traces of Abyssal energy, causing the chains to dissolve into fading tendrils of shadow. Lupus Boreas took a deep breath, his form now free, and rose to his full height. His piercing blue eyes met Momon’s with a look of solemn respect.

“You have my gratitude, stranger,” the wolf god spoke, his voice a low, resonant growl. “I know not who you are, but your strength is unlike any I have encountered in centuries.”

“My name is Momon, the Honorary Knight of Favonius. I was passing by and noticed you were dealing with the forces of the Abyss so I decided to help.” said Momon.

Lupus Boreas inclined his great head, regarding Momon with a piercing gaze that held both curiosity and respect. "Momon, Honorary Knight of Favonius… your strength is formidable. It has been many ages since one such as you set foot here with such power—and mercy."

Razor, standing at Boreas's side, looked up at Momon, eyes wide with admiration. “Honorary Knight… I have heard tales of you. You protect Mondstadt.” His voice held a mix of reverence and wonder, clearly taken by this mysterious figure who had come to their aid so decisively.

Momon nodded, his tone calm but resolute. “The Old Mondtadt and Dragonspine are now my domains under a new name, Nazarick. I’d like it if we could make a non-aggressive pact with each other so we can avoid unnecessary situations,” said Momon.

Lupus Boreas gave a solemn nod, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow on his massive form. “Very well, Honorary Knight. I accept your terms. You and those under your command may pass through Wolvendom freely. In return, we shall respect the borders of this… Nazarick.”

Momon inclined his head respectfully, his tone as unwavering as his stance. “Thank you, Lupus Boreas. This pact will ensure peace between our lands. I have no intention of disrupting your territory or disturbing your kin.

Razor, standing beside Boreas, looked between the two, his fierce loyalty evident in his eyes. “I will remember this pact. Honorary Knight, I trust you… and Lupus Boreas trusts you.”

As Momon strolled through the familiar paths of Liyue, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction. The establishment of Nazarick, his own domain rooted in the ruins of Old Mondstadt and fortified with a pact with a deity, felt like an elegant move in a grand game of strategy. Every step toward securing his territory, recruiting powerful allies, and fostering goodwill with local powers brought him closer to an empire within Teyvat.

Passing through the bustling streets of Liyue Harbor, he noted the lively merchants and travelers. He blended into the crowd, the dark mask he wore concealing his skeletal nature, yet his aura commanded silent respect. Occasionally, the gazes of the townspeople lingered a bit longer, some whispering tales of the “mysterious knight” who had been seen defending both Mondstadt and Liyue.

“Mister Momon!” called a female voice as he was passing near the Adventurers' Guild.

Momon turned and saw Katheryne approaching.

“Yeah, how can I help you?” Momon asked.

“The mission ended pretty fast I assume,” said Katheryne.

“Mission? What mission?” Momon got confused.

“But, Mister Aether accepted a commission involving a group of Treasure Hoarders who are trying to steal ancient artifacts that are guarded in the shadows by the Abyss Order.” said Katheryne.

“Huh…”

Chapter Text

“I just returned from Mondstadt; I had no idea Aether accepted a commission,” said Momon, his voice carrying a faint trace of concern.

Katheryne tilted her head slightly, her neutral expression unwavering. “It’s not unusual for Adventurers’ Guild members to take on tasks independently, especially those with Aether’s reputation. But this one seemed urgent.”

Momon folded his arms, his masked face turned toward the ground as he pondered the situation. While it was indeed normal for guild members to accept commissions separately, what puzzled him was the fact that Aether, his usual partner, had taken it without consulting him. That was unlike Aether, especially given their mutual trust and teamwork.

“Did he go alone?” Momon asked, his tone sharper this time.

Katheryne nodded. “Yes or maybe Paimon went with him. He didn’t indicate he would bring anyone along.

Momon’s fingers drummed lightly on his forearm. Aether was strong and resourceful, no doubt, but there was an underlying unease that Momon couldn’t shake. The mention of the Abyss Order’s involvement only deepened his suspicion.

“So, which direction did he head?” Momon asked again, his gaze now fixated on Katheryne as though demanding every detail.

“He went northeast,” Katheryne replied, pointing toward the distant mountain ranges. “Near Chenyu Vale. That’s where the Treasure Hoarders and Abyss Order were last sighted.”

Momon turned his gaze toward the horizon, his mind racing. “This must have been very important to him—important enough to accept the commission without hesitation. Did he feel this was personal? Or is he trying to prove himself for some... misguided reason?”

The thought unsettled Momon. Aether was skilled, but reckless bravery in the face of the Abyss Order could lead to disastrous consequences.

“I hope he isn’t doing this out of pride,” Momon muttered under his breath, loud enough for Katheryne to catch the tail end of his words.

“Mister Momon, should I inform the Guild that you’ll follow up on this commission?” Katheryne asked, her voice steady but carrying a hint of curiosity.

“Yes,” Momon replied without hesitation. “Let them know I’ll handle it personally. I’ll find Aether and ensure he’s safe.”

Katheryne smiled faintly. “The Adventurers’ Guild is grateful for your dedication, Mister Momon. Please, take care.”

Momon studied the map, his crimson eyes glowing faintly beneath his mask as he memorized the marked location. Katheryne’s “X” gave him a starting point, but he knew Liyue’s sprawling wilderness would make locating Aether and Paimon a challenge. Time was of the essence, and he couldn’t afford distractions.

He raised his hand to initiate teleportation when a mocking laugh interrupted him.

“Hahaha, well, well, look who we have here.”

Momon froze, slowly turning his head toward the source of the voice. Standing there, arms crossed with an insufferably smug look on her face, was none other than Mona Megistus. Her starry cape billowed slightly in the breeze, and her confident stance made it clear she intended to have his attention.

“…Oh, it’s you,” Momon said flatly. He turned back to his map as though she weren’t even there. “I don’t have time for this. I have to leave.”

Mona’s expression faltered at his dismissive tone, and she quickly stepped forward, placing herself directly in his line of sight. “He-Hey! Don’t just ignore me like that!”

Momon sighed, visibly annoyed, but didn’t bother looking at her. “Mona, I’m busy. Go lecture someone else about their ‘fate’ or whatever it is you do.”

Her cheeks puffed out in indignation. “Excuse me?! Do you even know how rare it is to be in the presence of the Mona Megistus? You should consider yourself lucky!”

Momon waved her off without a second glance. “Lucky. Sure. I’ll add that to the list of things I don’t care about right now.”

Mona stomped her foot, her cape swirling with the motion. “Unbelievable! What could possibly be more important than hearing the wisdom of the stars?!”

“I have to go help Aether and Paimon now. Goodbye,” said Momon curtly, turning his back on Mona without so much as a second glance.

Mona’s indignant voice quickly followed. “Wait! I overheard your little chat with Katheryne about Aether and Paimon venturing north. So, I’ll help.”

Momon stopped mid-step but didn’t turn around. “Help?” he repeated, his tone skeptical.

Before he could protest, Mona raised her hand, and her Vision glowed with an ethereal light. In an instant, a shimmering Hydro bubble enveloped both of them. Momon’s surroundings warped and swirled as the teleportation spell whisked them away.

The bubble burst with a soft splash, depositing them near a serene waterfall cascading into a clear river at the edge of Chenyu Vale. The gentle roar of the water filled the air, and the crisp scent of nature surrounded them.

“Hehe,” Mona smirked, adjusting her hat triumphantly. “What do you think of my power now? Pretty impressive, right?”

Momon took a moment to orient himself, his crimson eyes scanning their new surroundings. Without even glancing at Mona, he replied bluntly, “Thanks, but I didn’t ask, so no reward for you.”

The astrologist’s smug grin vanished, replaced with an expression of disbelief. “But–”

“Shh.” Momon raised a hand to silence her, his posture shifting to alertness. His voice lowered, his tone sharp and focused. “I can sense Abyssal power… It’s coming from that cave.”

Mona blinked, startled by the sudden change in atmosphere. Before she could respond, Momon leaped from the rocky ledge they stood on. His movements were precise and effortless, landing silently on the riverbank below. The sunlight filtering through the trees gleamed faintly off his dark armor as he moved toward the cave’s entrance, which was partially concealed by thick vines and shadows.

Mona sighed, muttering under her breath. “No gratitude at all… Typical.” Still, she followed him, using her Hydro-enhanced agility to slide gracefully down the rocks.

As the two approached the cave, the air grew heavy, and an unnatural chill seeped into their surroundings. A faint, pulsing glow emanated from deep within, the unmistakable hue of Abyssal energy.

Momon stopped just outside the cave’s mouth, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his weapon. “Stay close, but don’t get in my way,” he said without looking at her.

Mona crossed her arms, her pride clearly bruised but her curiosity piqued. “Fine, but don’t think I’ll just stand by if things get messy. I’ll show you how valuable I can be.”

The air in the massive chamber was heavy with tension, the metallic clashing of swords ringing out like thunder. The chamber itself was vast and foreboding, its walls lined with eerie carvings depicting ancient battles and calamities. At the far end of the room, a Statue of Barbatos hung upside down, ensnared by thick Abyssal chains. The statue clutched a pulsating orb of dark purple light, its sinister glow casting jagged shadows across the room, filling the space with an oppressive dread.

Near the center of the chamber, Aether stood locked in fierce combat beside a man with blond hair and a dark cape—Dainsleif, his demeanor as sharp as the sword he wielded. Both men faced formidable foes: an Abyss Herald, tall and menacing with glowing blue veins coursing through its body, and an Abyss Lector, draped in dark robes that shimmered with an unsettling, fiery aura.

The Abyss Herald leapt into the air, twisting gracefully as it deflected a sweeping strike from Dainsleif with its elongated blade. Its voice echoed with a metallic resonance. “You shall not interfere with the will of the Abyss!”

As the Herald descended with terrifying speed, it targeted Aether, aiming to skewer him with a blade crackling with Abyssal energy. Aether reacted quickly, raising his sword just in time to block the attack. Sparks flew as their weapons clashed, the force of the blow causing Aether to skid backward slightly. Gritting his teeth, he summoned his Anemo powers, unleashing a powerful gust of wind that sent the Abyss Herald hurtling across the chamber.

“Persistent pest!” hissed the Abyss Herald as it landed, crouching low like a predator preparing to pounce.

Nearby, the Abyss Lector raised its staff, its voice deep and otherworldly. “Burn in the flames of our retribution!” With a wave of its hand, crimson glyphs materialized beneath Aether and Dainsleif, forming fiery runes that began to glow with a dangerous intensity.

“Circles of fire! Move!” shouted Dainsleif, his sharp eyes noticing the runes a fraction of a second before they ignited.

“Aether, watch out!” screamed Paimon from the corner of the chamber, her voice high-pitched with panic as she hovered as far from the fray as possible.

Aether dove to the side just as the runes erupted in towering pillars of flame, the searing heat licking at his heels. Dainsleif rolled in the opposite direction, his movements fluid and precise, narrowly avoiding the deadly fire. The flames consumed the ground where they had stood moments before, leaving blackened scorch marks in their wake.

The Abyss Lector let out a low, mocking laugh. “You mortal are no match for the might of the Abyss! Surrender, and we may grant you a merciful end.”

“Save your breath,” Dainsleif spat, his voice calm but laced with venom. “The only ones not leaving this chamber alive are you two.”

Aether stood and steadied himself, his sword glinting faintly in the purple light of the chamber. His golden eyes narrowed as he glanced between the two Abyssal foes. “We’re not done yet.”

The Abyss Herald, now recovered, charged again, its blade raised high. At the same time, the Abyss Lector began chanting in a guttural language, summoning swirling orbs of Abyssal fire that hung in the air like deadly stars.

The Abyss Lector snarled, its fiery eyes blazing with fury. “Dainsleif, you treacherous scum! Your days of immortality are over!” Its voice reverberated with a twisted mix of malice and righteousness as it raised its staff, summoning a cluster of flaming orbs. The fireballs floated ominously around it, their molten cores radiating intense heat.

With a sharp motion of its hand, the Abyss Lector unleashed the fireballs, ten blazing projectiles shooting toward Aether and Dainsleif like meteors.

“Move!” Dainsleif commanded, his tone urgent but steady. Both warriors sprinted around the chamber, weaving between pillars and debris as the fireballs detonated one by one behind them. Each explosion rocked the chamber, sending showers of molten stone raining down.

The Abyss Herald, seizing the opportunity, darted in front of Dainsleif with inhuman speed, its twin blades gleaming with Abyssal energy. It slashed downward, aiming for Dainsleif's heart. Reacting instantly, Dainsleif summoned his mysterious power, enveloping himself in a shield of dark, shimmering energy. The Herald’s blades struck the barrier with a sharp clang, sparks flying, but the shield held firm.

“You won’t cut me down so easily,” Dainsleif said coldly, his eyes burning with defiance.

From the side, Aether yelled, “Dainsleif, watch out!” He hurled a Geo Construct with precise aim, the golden structure smashing into the Abyss Herald’s torso with a thunderous impact. The Herald let out a guttural growl as the force of the blow sent it hurtling across the chamber, its body slamming into the wall with a loud crack.

Aether didn’t let up. “Let’s finish this!” he roared, summoning his elemental burst. He channeled his Anemo power into a swirling tornado, its winds howling as it grew in size and strength. The tornado spiraled toward the two Abyssal foes, pulling loose stones and debris into its relentless vortex.

The Abyss Lector raised its staff, chanting in an Abyssal tongue. A shield of roaring flames erupted around it and the fallen Abyss Herald, the barrier deflecting the tornado’s force. The flames crackled and hissed as the Anemo winds pushed against them, creating an intense battle of elements.

“Your tricks won’t save you!” Aether shouted. He crouched and slammed his fist into the floor with all his might, unleashing a powerful Geo shockwave. The ground cracked and split, golden energy spreading outward in a wide radius. From the edges of the shockwave, massive Geo Constructs erupted, forming an unyielding wall around the Lector and Herald.

The walls closed in, their weight and momentum shattering the Lector’s flaming shield. Without its barrier, the Abyssal duo was caught in the full force of Aether’s tornado. The raging winds tore through them, flinging the Abyss Herald and Lector upward. Their bodies slammed into the chamber’s ceiling with a sickening crunch before the tornado’s energy dissipated, dropping them to the stone floor with a heavy thud.

The chamber fell silent, save for the ragged breathing of Aether and Dainsleif. Paimon cautiously floated closer from her hiding spot, her voice trembling. “Did… did you get them?”

Aether wiped the sweat from his brow and kept his sword at the ready. “Not yet,” he muttered. “Stay on guard. They’re not finished.”

Dainsleif’s gaze remained fixed on the motionless forms of the Herald and Lector. “They’re weakened, but these bunch won’t give up.”

The two Abyss monsters struggled to their feet, their movements sluggish and pained, but their hatred burned as fiercely as ever. The Abyss Lector's fiery gaze locked onto Aether. “You…” it growled, its voice heavy with anger, but then it faltered. Its eyes narrowed as it seemed to recognize something. “Wait… this power… it’s… familiar…”

Aether, still catching his breath, furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about?” he demanded, his grip tightening on his sword.

The Abyss Lector suddenly threw its head back and began laughing—a deep, echoing sound that filled the chamber with an eerie resonance. “Hah…hahaha! So it’s you… you are the one!” it crowed, its laughter laced with both glee and madness.

Aether took a step forward, confusion and frustration etched on his face. “What do you mean? What are you talking about?” he shouted, trying to pierce through the cryptic words.

The Abyss Herald placed a clawed hand on the Lector’s shoulder. “Enough. We must retreat,” it said in a low, commanding voice. It raised its hand and began summoning an Abyssal portal, the swirling dark energy distorting the air around it.

Before they could step through, something shimmered in the air. In an instant, dark blue chokers materialized around their necks, pulsing with a cold, suppressive energy. The chokers constricted, forcing both monsters to stagger and clutch at their throats as though they were being strangled. Their breathing became labored, the portal collapsing before it could fully form.

“What is this…?!” the Abyss Herald rasped, clawing at the choker in a futile attempt to free itself.

“This is your end,” came Dainsleif’s cold, unyielding voice. He stepped forward, his eyes glowing faintly with a mysterious energy. The power radiating from him was palpable, oppressive, and it resonated with the dark blue energy binding the Abyss monsters.

“You are going nowhere,” Dainsleif declared, his tone calm but brimming with menace. His cloak billowed around him, though there was no wind. “These ruins will be your graves.”

The Abyss Lector struggled against the choker, its flames flaring weakly as it tried to summon its power. “You won’t… get away with this…!” it hissed, though its voice wavered.

Dainsleif’s gaze remained unflinching. “Your kind has plagued this world for long enough. Whatever plans you have, they end here.”

The chamber shook violently as an unexpected and deafening explosion erupted behind Dainsleif, sending a surge of energy cascading through the air. The force was so intense that Dainsleif was thrown forward, his feet skidding across the stone floor. He managed to regain his balance mid-slide, landing gracefully but with a slight grimace from the impact.

Aether reacted quickly, lunging to grab Dainsleif by the arm to steady himself against the shockwave. The force rippled through them both, scattering loose debris and extinguishing the flickering flames left by the Abyss Lector’s earlier attack.

“What the—?!” Aether exclaimed, his eyes darting toward the source of the explosion.

From the shadows, a figure emerged with deliberate, graceful steps. The dim, oppressive light of the chamber revealed a familiar silhouette—a slender frame draped in a cloak adorned with intricate patterns of the Abyss. Her golden hair shimmered faintly, cascading down her back, and her piercing eyes glowed with a soft, otherworldly light.

Aether’s breath caught in his throat. His heart, already pounding from the battle, now raced even faster, a mixture of shock, hope, and dread coursing through him.

“No… It can’t be…” Aether whispered, his voice trembling.

Paimon floated beside him, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Wha-What?! That girl… she looks just like you! Who is she, Aether?!”

Aether’s grip on his sword slackened as he took an unsteady step forward, his voice cracking as he spoke her name.

“Lumine…”

The name echoed in the chamber like a fragile note in the silence.

The figure stopped, her eyes locking onto his. There was a flicker of emotion in her gaze—pain, longing, and something unreadable—but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a stoic calm.

“Aether…” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it carried an unmistakable weight.

Aether’s hands trembled, his sword lowering further. “I’ve been searching for you… all this time. Where have you been? Why—why are you with the Abyss?”

Lumine’s eyes flickered with something—pain, perhaps, or hesitation—but it was gone as quickly as it came. She looked away, her gaze settling on the chained statue of Barbatos in the center of the chamber.

"There are things you wouldn’t understand, Aether," she said, her voice now colder, more detached.

Lumine's expression hardened, her golden eyes narrowing as she looked at Dainsleif with unmistakable anger. "Why are you with him, Aether? You should never ally yourself with this man. He is my enemy!" Her voice carried a sharp edge, filled with frustration and disdain.

Dainsleif, standing tall and composed despite her venomous words, responded with a cold calmness. "Long time no see, Lumine. It seems your resolve hasn’t wavered since our last encounter."

Lumine's fists clenched, her aura flaring with dark energy. "Spare me your pleasantries, Dain. You failed to protect Khaenri’ah 500 years ago. You stood by as it was destroyed. And now, you bear the curse of immortality—a fitting punishment—to wander the land and witness the fate of the people you were sworn to protect. They’ve become monsters of the Abyss, and it’s all because of your failure."

“Enough with this, sister!” Aether's voice cut through the tension like a blade, his frustration and confusion spilling over. "Whatever happened in the past, whatever you believe, this isn’t the way."

Lumine’s gaze softened briefly as she looked at her twin, but it was fleeting, like the glimmer of a star about to fade. "Aether," she said, her tone quieter now, tinged with a deep sadness, "don’t try to stop me. Don’t try to stop the Abyss Order."

Her eyes flickered back to Dainsleif, her voice rising once more. "This man—he couldn’t even protect the homeland he swore to defend. He now drifts through eternity, cursed to watch Khaenri’ah’s ruins and its people, twisted into monsters. He’s nothing but a failure clinging to guilt and regret."

Aether stepped forward, his voice trembling with emotion. "Lumine… we’re family. None of this matters. Just come back with me—let’s go home. Together."

At his words, a bittersweet smile ghosted across Lumine’s face. She turned to him, her eyes softening for the briefest moment. "Home... Yes, how sweet that sounds." Her voice, though quiet, was heavy with sorrow. "But I can’t, Aether. I can’t leave with you for the next world. Not yet. The Abyss must engulf the thrones. Celestia must fall."

She stepped back, her ethereal aura growing darker and more intense. "My war with destiny will not see its end until this corrupt world is set free. You must reach the end of your journey, brother. Only then will you understand. Only then will you see the true nature of this world—the truth that lies beyond the lies of the gods."

The Abyss Herald, standing nearby, raised his hand, summoning an abyssal portal. Its swirling darkness spread through the chamber like a living entity.

"Lumine, wait!" Aether shouted, his voice echoing with desperation as she turned her back to him, her figure framed by the ominous glow of the portal. He surged forward, his arm outstretched to stop her, but before he could reach her, the Abyss Lector stepped into his path, his flaming staff crackling with energy.

"Do not interfere!" the Lector barked, his voice like the roar of a wildfire.

A sudden, deafening whoosh cut through the chamber as a dark violet orb streaked in from the entrance, moving with the force and speed of a thunderbolt. The Abyss Lector, caught completely off guard, didn’t even have time to react. The orb slammed into his side with brutal force, sending him hurtling across the chamber like a ragdoll. His body collided with the defiled Statue of the Seven, the sheer impact shaking the entire structure.

The orb detonated on contact, unleashing a powerful shockwave that sent everyone sprawling. Aether shielded Paimon as best he could, while Dainsleif braced himself against the ground. Even Lumine stumbled back, her Abyss Herald protector stepping forward to shield her from the blast. The chamber rumbled violently, cracks snaking across the stone walls as dust and debris filled the air.

“What just happened?” Paimon squeaked, her voice trembling as she peeked out from behind Aether’s shoulder.

Aether coughed, his voice steady despite the chaos. “Someone’s here… but who?”

Dainsleif narrowed his eyes, his hand tightening around his blade. “That attack came from the outside. Whoever it is, they’re powerful enough to destroy the Abyss Lector in one strike.”

As the dust began to settle, the room grew eerily quiet. Slowly, the defiled Statue of the Seven came into view—or rather, what was left of it. The once-twisted and ominous effigy now lay shattered into countless pieces, reduced to rubble by the violent explosion.

The Abyss Lector’s body was nowhere to be seen. Only a faint trace of ash remained where he had stood moments ago.

“Princess!” the Abyss Herald called out urgently, stepping protectively in front of Lumine. His weapon was raised, his stance tense as he watched the entrance to the chamber with sharp, glowing eyes.

From the smoke-filled corridor, two figures emerged. One was a young woman in a starry hat and robes—Mona, her confident smirk intact despite the chaos. Beside her was a tall, imposing figure cloaked in shadow. His face was hidden beneath a hood and mask, but his presence alone was enough to silence the room. The faint, ominous aura surrounding him was palpable.

“Momon…” Aether’s voice broke the silence, a mix of relief and anxiety.

The masked figure’s crimson gaze locked onto Aether. His voice, deep and calm, carried an edge of exasperation. “Aether… can’t you go one minute without diving headfirst into danger? Weren’t we a team?”

Aether’s shoulders sagged slightly, guilt creeping into his tone. “I’m sorry, Momon. I thought… I thought I could handle it. But some memories of the past came rushing back, and I had to act quickly…”

"Memories, huh? And in chasing them, you’ve ended up in the middle of this disaster. Typical." Momon replied, his tone unreadable as his gaze shifted across the room. First, he eyed Dainsleif, his crimson gaze scrutinizing the blond man. Then, he turned his attention to Lumine. His posture straightened slightly, as though recognizing her significance. “And who might this be?”

Aether hesitated, his voice shaky. “She’s… she’s my sister. Lumine.”

Momon tilted his head slightly, his gaze lingering on her. “Interesting,” he said simply, his tone devoid of emotion.

“Momon, please,” Aether pleaded, stepping forward. “Don’t do anything rash. I… I need answers from her, not destruction.”

Momon didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his gaze turned sharply toward the Abyss Herald, who stood tensely at Lumine’s side. “You,” he said, his voice dropping to a colder, more menacing tone. “Didn’t I see you in Mondstadt a few hours ago? Something about taking control of a certain giant wolf spirit? Just like you lot did with Dvalin?”

The Abyss Herald flinched but didn't back down, his voice angry. “You dare speak to me with such insolence, mortal?!"

Momon chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating through the chamber. “Mortal? If I were you, I’d choose my words carefully. After all…” His aura flared, the air around him growing heavy and suffocating. “Your companion didn’t survive the last five minutes. What makes you think you’ll fare any better?”

Aether quickly stepped forward, placing himself between Momon and the Abyss Herald. "Momon, wait! Please, don’t—"

Momon raised a hand, silencing Aether without a word. His gaze was locked on the Abyss Herald, but his voice softened when he addressed Aether. "Relax. I’m not here to clean house unless I have to."

He turned his attention to Lumine, who had been watching silently, her expression unreadable. "And you. The sister, I presume? Aether’s been looking for you all this time, but here you are—embroiled in a war you seem determined to win."

Lumine’s eyes narrowed. "Who are you to judge my choices? You know nothing of the pain this world has caused."

The Abyss Herald snarled, his voice dripping with venom as he took a step forward, positioning himself protectively in front of Lumine. “Your Highness, that’s him. That’s the monster who destroyed the eye of the first Field Tiller!” His accusatory finger jabbed toward Momon, trembling with rage.

Lumine’s gaze snapped to Momon, her golden eyes narrowing. A mixture of shock and fury flashed across her face as she processed the Herald’s words. “So it was you…” Her voice was cold and steady, but there was a tremor of restrained emotion beneath it. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You’ve brought the end to our most critical operation—the Loom of Fate. Without the eye of the first Field Tiller, our mission against the Heavenly Principles is crippled!”

Momon remained unmoved, his mask concealing any emotion that might have flickered across his face. He crossed his arms, his posture exuding an almost casual disdain. "Oh, you’re talking about that Loom of Fate thing, huh?" His tone was sardonic, his words dripping with mockery. “Well then, let’s have a round of applause for me.” He clapped slowly, each sound echoing mockingly through the crumbling chamber.

Aether flinched at the sound, glancing nervously between Momon and Lumine. Paimon, hovering behind him, whispered, “Momon, maybe don’t provoke her?”

Ignoring them, Momon continued, his tone taking on an air of theatrical pity. “I mean, what a tragedy. Here I was, thinking I was saving Teyvat from a reality-warping catastrophe, and now you’re telling me I accidentally derailed your grand Abyssal scheme? What a sad fate indeed.”

Lumine’s fists clenched, her voice trembling with suppressed fury. “You mock what you do not understand. The Loom of Fate was more than a mere device—it was our answer. Our rebellion against the unjust laws of the Heavenly Principles. And you… you’ve stolen that hope from us.”

Momon took a step forward, his towering frame casting a shadow over the Abyss Herald. “Hope? Is that what you call it?” His voice grew colder, the mocking edge replaced with icy detachment. “From what I’ve seen, the only hope your Loom of Fate offered was chaos. A tool designed to bend reality to your whims, regardless of who suffered in the process.”

The Abyss Herald growled, his claws twitching as though ready to strike. “You dare speak of suffering? You, who annihilates without hesitation, have no right to lecture us!”

Momon tilted his head, his voice dropping into a deadly calm. “You’re right. I don’t hesitate. But there’s a difference between my actions and yours. I don’t hide behind the excuse of rebellion to justify mass destruction.”

Lumine’s eyes burned with defiance, her voice rising. “And what would you know of rebellion? Of pain? Of fighting against a world that seeks to destroy you?”

Momon’s gaze locked onto hers, unflinching. “Enough to know that your war will bring nothing but ruin—to Teyvat, and to yourself. Aether deserves better than to see his sister consumed by this madness.”

The Abyss Herald stepped protectively in front of Lumine, his claws glowing with Abyssal energy. “You insolent cur! You dare to question Her Highness’s vision? You know nothing of the Abyss Order’s struggle!”

Momon glanced at the Herald, unimpressed. “Oh, spare me the melodrama. You’re all pawns in a game you barely understand. And from the looks of it, I’ve been taking your pieces off the board one by one.”

Aether, sensing the tension escalating dangerously, stepped between Momon and Lumine, his hands raised in a desperate attempt to de-escalate. “Wait! Stop this! Lumine, Momon, please—there’s no need for more fighting!”

Lumine’s gaze softened momentarily as she looked at her brother, but her resolve quickly returned. “Aether, you don’t understand. The Abyss Order’s mission is the only way to end the suffering inflicted by Celestia. Dainsleif is nothing but a traitor to Khaenri’ah, and this man—” she pointed at Momon “—is an obstacle that must be removed.”

Momon chuckled darkly. “Obstacle? Well, I do love a good challenge. But let me remind you of something, little princess.” He extended his hand, and a faint aura of violet energy began to crackle around him, the room growing colder despite its earlier chaos. “Your war with destiny is irrelevant to me. You can fight your battles with Celestia, the Seven, or whoever you like—but if you threaten the people I care about, your war ends with me.”

The room seemed to hold its breath as Lumine and Momon stared each other down, the tension thick enough to suffocate. Aether stepped forward, his voice breaking the silence. “Lumine, please. This isn’t the way. Whatever the Abyss Order has promised you, it’s not worth losing yourself. Come back with me.”

Lumine’s expression softened for a brief moment, her resolve flickering—but then her gaze hardened again. “Aether… you still don’t understand. You will, in time. But not today.”

The Abyss Herald, sensing her hesitation, growled, “Your Highness, we must leave now!”

Lumine gave Aether one last, lingering look, her expression unreadable. “Goodbye, Aether. Reach the end of your journey… and then we’ll talk again.”

She turned, her golden hair swaying as she walked toward the Abyss portal. The Herald stepped beside her, casting a final glare at Momon before following his mistress.

Momon stood unmoving, his gaze fixed on the portal until it closed. His voice, low and sharp, broke the silence. “You’d better hope we don’t meet again, Herald. Next time, I won’t be as patient.”

Aether fell to his knees, his fists clenched. “Lumine…”

Mona crossed her arms, standing slightly apart from the group, her deep blue eyes reflecting Aether’s despair. Her voice was soft but carried a melancholic tone. “What a sad separation…” she murmured, her words hanging in the air like an elegy. She glanced at Aether, her usual confidence replaced with quiet sympathy. “To see your twin so close, yet feel her drift even farther away... it must be unbearable.”

Momon stepped forward, his imposing figure surprisingly gentle as he placed a firm hand on Aether’s shoulder. His masked face tilted slightly, as if searching for the right words. “Be sad as much as you need, my friend,” he said, his deep voice steady and resolute. “I know too well what it means to lose family—to feel their absence like a blade in your heart. But this pain…” He tightened his grip slightly, grounding Aether in his presence. “You can use it. Take this sadness, this longing, and turn it into a source of strength. Not just for yourself, but for the journey that lies ahead.”

Paimon, hovering close by, nodded vigorously, her eyes wide with determination. “Yeah, Momon’s got a point, Aether! It’s okay to feel sad—really sad even—but at least now you know she’s out there. You’ve found her! That’s a huge deal! And one day… one day, I know you’ll be able to bring her back for good.” Her small hands balled into fists as if her will alone could make that promise a reality.

Aether’s shoulders sagged, the weight of their words sinking in. Silent tears streamed down his face, but he didn’t try to wipe them away. His chest heaved as he let out a shaky breath, his voice breaking as he spoke. “Thank you… all of you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Momon stepped back slightly, giving Aether space while still maintaining a steady, protective presence. His voice softened, carrying a rare warmth. “You’re stronger than you think, Aether. And you’ve got us by your side, no matter how dark the path becomes.”

Mona’s gaze softened, her earlier aloofness melting away as she looked at Aether. “Pain like this… it’s a heavy burden to carry. But remember, fate is not unchangeable. The stars may guide us, but we still have the power to walk our own path. And yours is far from over.”

Paimon floated closer to Aether, placing her small hands on his cheeks to pull his attention toward her. “No more tears now, okay? We’ve got work to do! Lumine’s not gonna save herself, and you’re not gonna save her by sulking. Let’s focus on the next step!”

Aether managed a small, bittersweet smile, his tears slowing as resolve began to fill his eyes. He straightened his back, nodding firmly. “You’re right. I can’t stop now. I’ll keep moving forward—for her.”

Momon turned sharply, his piercing gaze scanning the chamber as if his eyes alone could pierce through the lingering shadows. His tone was calm yet edged with curiosity. “That man you were with… where did he go?”

Aether followed Momon’s gaze, his own eyes darting around the dimly lit ruins. The faint echoes of their voices reverberated off the crumbling walls, but there was no sign of the enigmatic figure. Aether furrowed his brow. “Huh, Dain... he’s gone.” His voice wavered slightly, caught between surprise and resignation. “I didn’t even see him leave.”

Paimon zipped closer to Aether, her expression a mix of surprise and annoyance. “What? He just vanished without saying anything?” she huffed, crossing her tiny arms. “That guy has no manners! Ugh, always so mysterious and broody—can’t he just say goodbye like a normal person?”

“Whatever,” Momon said, his tone dismissive as he waved a hand. “You can tell me about him later. For now, let’s get out of here before this place collapses entirely.”

Mona straightened her hat, her fingers glowing faintly as Hydro energy began swirling around her. “Fine, fine. I’ll help you teleport us out of these ruins,” she muttered, clearly eager to prove herself useful. The chamber was crumbling around them, rocks tumbling from the ceiling, and the air carried a thick sense of urgency.

Just as Mona was about to cast her spell, Momon raised his hand, interrupting her. A single, commanding word escaped his lips: “[Greater Teleportation].”

Before Mona’s spell could even form, a rush of energy enveloped the group. In an instant, the suffocating ruins were replaced by the fresh air and serene scenery of Liyue’s outskirts. The shift was so sudden that Paimon spun mid-air, clearly disoriented.

“Wha—?! We’re… already outside?!” Paimon exclaimed, looking around with wide eyes.

Aether blinked in confusion, momentarily speechless as he processed the abrupt change in environment.

Meanwhile, Mona stood frozen, her hands still raised as if she were about to complete her spell. Her jaw dropped, and her face turned a vivid shade of red. “You…” she sputtered, lowering her arms with trembling hands.

Momon turned toward her calmly, his crimson eyes glinting faintly beneath his mask.

I can’t believe you! You just had to show off, didn’t you? You really enjoy making people feel useless, don’t you?” Mona snapped, her voice trembling with frustration. “I was perfectly capable of teleporting us myself!” She clenched her fists, glaring at him as though she could set him on fire with her gaze alone.

Momon’s calm demeanor remained unchanged as he reached into his cloak and pulled out a weathered tome. He extended it toward Mona with a deliberate motion, the faint aura of magic radiating from its surface. “Here. The book of Tier Magic you’ve been pestering me about.”

Mona’s anger evaporated in an instant. Her eyes lit up, sparkling with excitement as she stared at the book. “Oh!” she squealed, snatching it from his hand so quickly it was almost a blur. Hugging the tome tightly against her chest, she practically bounced on her heels. “Finally! After all this time, it’s mine!” Her tone was filled with pure, unrestrained joy. “Do you even realize how long I’ve been searching for something like this? This is exactly what I need to revolutionize my research! Oh, the secrets it must hold!”

Paimon floated closer, her curiosity piqued. “Wait, what’s so special about that book? It looks kind of creepy to me.”

Mona shot Paimon a glare, holding the book protectively. “Creepy? This is a treasure trove of knowledge! The secrets of a whole new kind of magic—Tier Magic—are written in here! With this, my understanding of the stars and the arcane will reach entirely new heights!”

She looked up at Momon, her voice softening. “Thank you… I guess you're not as insufferable as I thought.”

“Well, I gave you the book,” Momon said with a nonchalant shrug, his voice still carrying that same detached tone. “Now you should figure out how to translate it. Have fun with that.” He turned and began walking toward Liyue Harbor, his pace steady and unhurried, as if this was just another routine in his long journey.

Mona, clutching the book to her chest, stared after him for a moment, her eyes narrowing in determination. "Oh, I’ll find a way to reveal its secrets. You’ll see." She grinned to herself, already mentally mapping out how she would go about deciphering the advanced Tier Magic. She wasn’t about to let something as trivial as a language barrier stop her.

Aether and Paimon exchanged a glance, and then Aether gave Mona a small nod. "We should get moving.

"Yeah, yeah. I’ll catch up." Mona waved a hand dismissively but quickly jogged to join the group, holding the book like a treasure as if it were the most valuable thing in Teyvat.

As they walked together toward Liyue Harbor, the sun was setting, casting a soft golden light over the landscape. The distant sound of waves crashing against the shore could be heard in the air, a peaceful reminder of the calm before whatever storm lay ahead.

Chapter Text

The moon hung high in the night sky, its silvery light cascading over Liyue Harbor, lending the city an ethereal glow. Lanterns adorned every corner, their warm light flickering like tiny stars, as laughter and music filled the air. The citizens of Liyue were celebrating a hard-earned victory. Food stalls lined the streets, and the tantalizing aroma of grilled meats, steamed dumplings, and sweet desserts wafted through the crowd, weaving a tapestry of joy and relief.

At the grand Yujing Terrace, a lavish feast had been arranged, drawing the most prominent figures of Liyue to the table. The aftermath of the death of Rex Lapis, the clash with the Adepti, and the awakening of Osial was now a chapter of history. Tonight was about unity, triumph, and resilience.

A long, ornate table stretched beneath the stars, laden with delicacies that shimmered under the lanterns’ glow. Momon stood at the end of the table, his tall, imposing figure shrouded in his black cloak. Beside him, Mona sat engrossed in the book he had given her, her eyes scanning the strange text as she muttered arcane theories under her breath. The occasional frustrated sigh escaped her lips, though her determination to unlock the book’s secrets burned brightly.

In front of Momon, Paimon was the center of attention—or rather, the center of chaos. Plates piled high with dumplings, bowls of noodles, and skewers of grilled seafood surrounded her. “Mmmph! This is sooo good!” she mumbled through a mouthful of food, crumbs scattering as she waved a skewer for emphasis. “Aether, you have to try this crab roe dish! It’s heavenly!”

Aether, seated beside her, chuckled as he sampled a neatly arranged plate of sliced fish. “Paimon, slow down. There’s plenty of food—no one’s going to take it from you.”

“That’s what you think!” Paimon retorted, already reaching for another dumpling. “What if someone sneaky tries to grab the last of the almond tofu? I can’t take that risk!”

Momon’s gaze lingered on the scene. Behind his ever-present mask, a deep, unspoken longing stirred. He studied the vibrant expressions of those around him—the way Aether’s golden eyes softened in contentment, the way Paimon’s cheeks puffed as she chewed with abandon. Even Mona, oblivious to the feast, hummed thoughtfully as she traced a passage in her book.

For a moment, Momon’s gaze fell on the untouched food before him. The fragrant dishes beckoned with their colors and aromas, but he knew the truth of his nature: an undead being, stripped of flesh and sensation, incapable of tasting or savoring the joys of the mortal world. The mask, as always, concealed his face.

Ningguang’s voice broke the moment of reflection as she raised her glass from her place at the head of the table. “To all who are gathered here tonight,” she began, her voice calm yet commanding, “this celebration is not just a feast—it is a testament to our perseverance. Liyue faced trials that would have shattered lesser nations. But together, with the courage of our people and the guidance of allies, we prevailed.”

Cheers erupted from the attendees, the clinking of glasses punctuating the applause. Momon glanced across the table, his sharp gaze taking in the faces of those who had fought alongside him: Beidou’s hearty laugh as she toasted with a mug of ale; Keqing, seated gracefully yet with a determined spark in her eye; and Ganyu, who offered a gentle smile as she sipped her tea.

“Momon?”

Momon tilted his head slightly at Mona’s outburst, his glowing red eyes barely visible behind the mask. “Hmm?” he responded, his deep voice rumbling with faint curiosity. He turned to face her and noticed the exasperation etched across her face as she held the book out, her grip tight, almost as if she wanted to throttle it.

“What even is this language?” Mona asked, her voice carrying both frustration and desperation. “This scripture is so weird, I’ve never seen anything like it before. It’s like the text shifts when I focus too hard. How am I supposed to make sense of this?”

Momon sighed, leaning back in his seat, his gaze briefly flickering toward the moonlit festivities. “Mona,” he began, his tone steady but carrying an edge of mock exasperation, “you practically harassed me to give you that book. And now that you have it, your next move is to annoy me further by demanding an explanation?”

Mona flushed, her cheeks puffing out slightly in indignation. “I wasn’t—harassing—I was persuading!” she protested, crossing her arms and tapping her foot on the ground. “And how was I supposed to know the book would be written in… whatever this is?”

Paimon, her mouth still half-full of sweet flower dumplings, piped up. “Huh, maybe it’s a magic language that only super-powerful people like Momon can understand?”

Aether shook his head, amused by the back-and-forth. “Mona, you should have expected this. If the book came from Momon, it’s bound to be more complicated than anything you’ve studied before.”

“Of course, it’s complicated!” Mona snapped, turning to Aether. “But how can I even begin to study it if I can’t decipher one single word?!”

Momon sighed again, his demeanor that of a parent humorously indulging a particularly excitable child. Reaching into his inventory with a flick of his gloved hand, he produced a pair of sleek, rectangular glasses. Their design was simple, but they carried an air of utility and precision. “Here,” he said, handing them to Mona. “But I want them back when you’re done.”

Mona’s eyes lit up, sparkling with anticipation. “Oh, are these the glasses you used for translation in Mondstadt? At the library?” Her voice practically vibrated with glee. “Yesssss!” Without waiting for another word, she snatched the glasses from his hand and eagerly placed them on her face. As soon as she looked back at the book, her breath hitched.

“Oh, by the stars!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling with excitement. “I can understand the language now! It’s like… the words are unraveling themselves right before my eyes!” She clutched the book tightly, her eyes darting over the pages with newfound clarity. “This is incredible! I need a pen, paper—no, a whole journal! I have to transcribe this script and start studying it immediately!”

Aether blinked, caught between amusement and disbelief. “Uh, Mona? Maybe pace yourself?”

“Oh, let her have her moment,” Paimon chimed in, hovering closer to get a better look at the book. “It’s not every day you get magical glasses that let you read a whole new language!”

Momon, observing Mona’s near-manic enthusiasm, couldn’t help but chuckle softly to himself. “Oh boy, she’s about to learn the ‘English’ language,” he thought.

As Mona scribbled furiously on a conjured piece of paper, muttering excitedly under her breath about syntax and morphology, Momon’s mind wandered. He gazed at the distant moonlit harbor, reflecting on something peculiar he had noticed since arriving in Teyvat. This world truly operates by its own laws, he mused.

It was strange, really. Momon had been speaking Japanese—his native tongue—all along. Yet, he realized early on that the people of Teyvat, from Mondstadt to Liyue, weren’t actually speaking Japanese themselves. Their lip movements, the cadence of their speech—it didn’t align. There had to be some form of automatic translation at work, something woven into the very fabric of this world. Perhaps it was tied to the elemental ley lines or a divine mechanism of Teyvat itself, ensuring seamless communication among all its inhabitants.

Momon leaned slightly toward Aether, his tone firm but not unkind. “Anyway, Aether, about that guy at the ruins. Who is he? Your sister didn’t seem too fond of him.”

Aether straightened up, his expression conflicted. “Oh, you mean Dain? Yeah… I met him at a restaurant not long after you left for Mondstadt. He said I resembled someone he used to travel with—someone who turned out to be my sister. We kept talking, and then we saw a commission about a ruin tied to the Abyss Order, which Dain was investigating. That’s how it all started.”

Momon nodded, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Look, Aether, I understand that anything concerning your sister is… delicate. But you can’t just walk into danger blindly. And you definitely can’t trust people too easily.”

Aether flinched slightly under the rebuke, his gaze falling to the ground. “Yeah… I know. Sorry.”

Momon’s voice was calm but firm as he pressed on. “It’s not about apologies—it’s about survival. Now, something about that man bothers me. Did you notice that he carries the same curse of immortality as the rest of the Abyss Order? That means he’s been alive for over 500 years… since the fall of Khaenri’ah. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

Aether’s eyes narrowed slightly as he considered it. “What are you getting at?”

Momon nodded, continuing. “The Abyss monsters and Dain were once citizens and protectors of Khaenri’ah, right? But here’s the thing—your sister. Lumine. She’s leading the Abyss Order in a war of vengeance against Celestia. That means she was there during the Cataclysm… 500 years ago.”

Aether’s breath hitched as realization struck him. He clenched his fists, processing the implications.

Momon’s voice was calm but laced with intrigue. “Yet, she doesn’t bear the curse of immortality. No deformities, no signs of abyssal corruption. That suggests she’s naturally… immortal. And, Aether, I believe the same goes for you.”

Before Aether could respond, a sharp sound broke through the moment—the loud snap of a book closing. The two turned toward Mona, who had been sitting cross-legged, absorbed in the translation. She pushed her glasses up her nose, her face lit with newfound insight.

“And also,” she interjected, turning to face them. “He’s not from this world.”

Momon froze for a moment, processing what Mona had just revealed. He turned his masked face toward Aether, his voice calm but tinged with a hint of disbelief.

“Well, that’s certainly new,” he said, crossing his arms. “But… I don’t think I was supposed to learn about such a monumental secret this soon.”

Aether sighed heavily, glancing toward the night sky as if the stars above might offer him some form of solace. “I didn’t plan to reveal this either,” he admitted. “But since we’re traveling together and you’ve already seen so much, it’s only fair that you know the truth.”

Momon tilted his head slightly, his curiosity evident despite his composed demeanor. “I’m listening.”

Aether nodded, closing his eyes briefly to gather his thoughts. When he spoke, his voice was steady but filled with a deep-seated sadness. “My sister and I… we’re not from this world. We’ve traveled from one world to another for as long as I can remember. When we first arrived in Teyvat, I was in a deep slumber. My sister woke up before me, and I have no idea how long I remained asleep. By the time I finally woke, she had returned to me, but something was wrong—she was desperate, afraid even.”

He paused, his golden eyes flickering with the memory. “She told me we had to leave immediately. That this world wasn’t as safe as we thought. We headed to Khaenri’ah… but all I found were ruins. A once-thriving kingdom was nothing but destruction. It had been wiped off the map.”

Paimon hovered closer, her small hands clutched together. “Oh, Aether…”

Aether continued, his tone growing heavier. “We decided to leave Teyvat and find another world. But when we tried to leave, our path was blocked by… an unknown god. She called herself the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles. We fought her, but she was too powerful. We were defeated. I remember watching her take my sister away from me… and then, nothing. Just darkness. When I woke up again, she was gone. My memories were fragmented, and my original powers… stripped away.”

His fists clenched as he finished. “It wasn’t until meeting Dainsleif that my memories started to come back.”

Momon took in the story, his skeletal face hidden behind the mask, but his mind reeled with the weight of what he had just heard. “Well, damn… that’s one hell of a lore drop,” he thought, though he kept his tone neutral.

He crossed his arms, his gaze steady on Aether. “That’s… certainly interesting and raises more questions than answers. But I’ll respect your boundaries for now. However…” Momon shifted his attention to Mona, his tone growing inquisitive. “How did you know about this?”

Mona straightened, her prideful smirk returning as she tapped her hat. “How? Because I am a master of true astrology,” she declared. “I specialize in hydromancy, reading the reflections of the stars in water. Though the reflections are but illusions, they reveal truths that are otherwise hidden.”

“Isn’t that just a fancy term for ‘Divination’ magic?” Momon asked, his tone calm but curious.

“Haha, yes, yes!” Mona beamed, clearly pleased that he recognized her craft. “I knew you’d understand! But with Aether, it’s different. I’ve tried reading his fate, but all I see is fog. The stars of Teyvat cannot reveal truths beyond this world. They can only illuminate the fates tied to this realm.”

“That’s… incredible,” Aether said, his admiration genuine. “Your magic is truly reliable, Mona.”

“Haha, of course it is!” Mona said, puffing her chest with pride. “But you know, I’ve also tried using my astrology on you, Momon, and—”

“I’d strongly recommend you never attempt that again,” Momon interrupted, his tone colder, sharper.

Mona blinked, confused, and even Aether and Paimon turned to him with puzzled expressions. “Wh-Why not?” Mona stammered.

“Because,” Momon said firmly, “I have countermeasures in place. Divination Countermeasures, to be precise. It’s a spell designed specifically to protect against any form of divination.”

Mona’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what? That’s… that’s even possible?!”

Momon nodded. “Divination can be a double-edged sword. It might reveal valuable information, but it can also expose me—or my allies—to danger. So naturally, there’s magic to counter it.”

Mona’s curiosity overcame her initial shock. “But what would happen if someone did try divination on you?”

Momon’s tone darkened, his next words sending a chill through the group. “They’d die. Horribly.”

Mona paled. “H-Horribly? How horribly are we talking?”

Momon tilted his head slightly. “Well… let’s just say it wouldn’t be pretty. Their body might rupture from the strain of the backlash. Or their head might explode. Maybe they’d bleed from every orifice—eyes, ears, mouth—the works.”

Mona’s face turned ghostly white, and she visibly recoiled. “That’s… that’s horrifying!”
Momon shrugged. “A necessary precaution. It ensures that anyone foolish enough to pry into my business pays the price. So, unless you enjoy the idea of a gruesome and tragic end, I’d advise you to avoid trying it again.”
Mona swallowed hard, her face pale as she nodded. “Noted… I’ll definitely steer clear.”
Paimon floated closer to Aether, whispering nervously, “Paimon’s not sure if Momon’s super cool or just super scary…”
Aether sighed, shaking his head. “A little bit of both, I think,”
Momon said nothing, but beneath his mask, he allowed himself the faintest hint of amusement.

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the noise. “Hey, hey, hey, guys! Aren’t you enjoying the night?” Beidou’s bold, confident tone rang out as she strode over to their table, a half-empty tankard of ale in her hand. She was clearly in high spirits, her grin wide as she approached.

“Sure we are!” Paimon chirped back enthusiastically, raising her tiny hands.

Beidou laughed, her energy infectious as she extended her arm and gave Momon a hearty pat on the back. “Woah, your plate’s still full, buddy!” she said, her sharp eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. “You haven’t even touched it. What’s the matter? Food not good enough for ya?”

Momon glanced at his untouched plate and replied calmly, “There is no need.”

Beidou tilted her head, confused for a moment, then shrugged it off. “Come on now,” she said with a mischievous chuckle. “This is a time for celebration! Don’t be so stiff!” Without warning, she plopped herself down on Momon’s lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world, resting an arm casually over his shoulder.

Momon froze for a split second, his mind processing the unexpected action. Emotions flickered briefly within him—embarrassment, surprise, even a faint hint of amusement—but they were swiftly suppressed by his undead nature, leaving his expression stoic.

“What do you think you are doing?!” Mona’s voice rose sharply, her cheeks burning with indignation. She stood abruptly, her hat nearly toppling off as she leaned forward to glare at Beidou. “This is completely improper!”

Beidou smirked, raising her tankard to her lips for another swig. “What’s the matter, big hat? Did I steal your spot or something?” she teased, her words slurring slightly from the alcohol.

Mona’s face turned scarlet, her hands balled into fists as she stammered. “Sh-Shameful!” she sputtered, her voice high-pitched with indignation. “You—you don’t just… sit on someone’s lap like that!”

Beidou raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly against Momon. “What’s the big deal? It’s not like he minds,” she said with a wink, clearly enjoying Mona’s flustered reaction.

“Beidou,” Momon said, his tone calm but firm, “I think you’ve had too much to drink.”

“Me? Drunk?” Beidou waved a dismissive hand, her movements loose and uncoordinated. “Nah, I’m perfectly fine! I just… uh…” Her words trailed off as her head tilted forward, and before anyone could react, she slumped against Momon’s chest, her breaths soft and steady.

“Huh? She fell asleep?!” Paimon exclaimed, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Momon glanced down at the now-snoozing captain, her hair spilling over his armor. “Yes,” he said dryly, “too much alcohol.”

“Unbelievable!” Mona huffed, her arms still crossed as she scowled at the sight. “How can someone be so… so shameless? Falling asleep on someone like that—it’s utterly disgraceful!”

Paimon whispered to Aether, “Do you think Momon’s mad? Paimon can’t tell—he’s so hard to read.”

Aether shook his head with a small smile. “I think he’s just… patient.”

“This is the Captain of the Crux?” Mona muttered, her voice dripping with disbelief. “She’s supposed to be a celebrated warrior, not… this.” She gestured to the sight of Beidou snoring softly, her face completely at ease.

Paimon giggled, her irritation melting into amusement. “Well, she sure knows how to enjoy herself! Maybe a little too much, though.”

Momon remained silent for a moment, his crimson eyes glinting faintly as he stared down at the sleeping Beidou. Despite her reckless behavior, there was an undeniable charm to her carefree spirit. He gently shifted her weight, ensuring she wouldn’t slide off.

The lively festivities around them continued, with laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses filling the night air. Momon, sitting stoically with Beidou now snoring softly in his lap, glanced at Aether, unbothered by the captain’s unexpected slumber. Her head rested against his chest armor as if it were a pillow, her tankard still clutched loosely in one hand.

“So, Aether,” Momon said in his calm and composed tone, “what’s the next step?”

Aether looked up from his plate, wiping his mouth with a napkin before responding. “I guess… the nation of Inazuma.”

“Inazuma, huh?” Momon repeated, leaning back slightly. Beneath his mask, a curious thought crossed his mind. Why does that sound so Japanese?

“Inazuma?” Paimon chimed in, floating closer with her usual enthusiasm. “I’ve heard that nation’s borders are closed for some reason. It’s supposed to be really hard to get in or out!”

Mona, adjusting the glasses Momon had lent her, set her book down momentarily to contribute. “People who wish to leave or enter Inazuma legally must pass the strict assessments conducted by the Kanjou Commission to obtain permission,” she said, her voice scholarly as though she were reciting from memory. “And even if one gets permission, there’s the Tenryou Commission. They enforce the Sakoku Decree—a policy issued by the Raiden Shogun herself to isolate Inazuma from the rest of the world.”

“The Sakoku Decree…” Aether echoed thoughtfully. “I’ve heard about that. Isn’t it meant to keep everyone within Inazuma under strict control?”

“Precisely,” Mona continued. “To enforce the decree, the Shogun has surrounded Inazuma with violent, unending storms. As a result, very few ships are able—or even willing—to navigate through them. Even skilled sailors like Beidou would think twice before attempting such a voyage.”

Momon’s crimson eyes glinted faintly behind his mask. “Sounds very dictatorial to me,” he said plainly, his tone carrying a subtle note of disdain.

Paimon hovered closer to Momon, her hands on her hips. “Dictatorial? You mean like a dictatorship? Well, now that you mention it, Paimon does think it sounds super controlling. Like, who would want to live in a place where you can’t leave if you want to?”

“Perhaps those who have no choice,” Mona interjected. “Or those who don’t dare to question the Shogun’s authority. The Raiden Shogun is a powerful Archon, after all. She’s not one to tolerate dissent.”

Aether frowned, resting his chin on his hand. “If that’s the case, then how do we even get there? Beidou’s Crux Fleet might be able to make the journey, but it doesn’t sound easy.”

Momon considered the information carefully. “If Inazuma is as isolated as you all describe, then it’s likely not just storms and policies keeping people out. There’s a reason for this Sakoku Decree—something the Raiden Shogun doesn’t want anyone to see or interfere with.”

Aether nodded thoughtfully. “That’s what I want to find out. If my sister has been to Inazuma—or is even there now—then I have to go, no matter how difficult it is.”

Momon leaned back slightly in his chair, careful not to disturb the still-sleeping Beidou on his lap. Her steady breathing and peaceful expression were a stark contrast to her usual boisterous demeanor. “So, it’s Inazuma then,” Momon said, his voice calm and resolute. His glowing crimson eyes briefly scanned the room before returning to his companions. “Well, when this sleeping beauty wakes up, we shall ask her for a voyage to this nation.”

Mona, who had been lost in thought while still adjusting her borrowed glasses, froze mid-movement. Her cheeks flushed a deep red, and she turned to Momon, utterly flabbergasted. “S-S-Sleeping beauty?! You’re calling her that?!” she stammered, her hands clenching into fists on the table. “That’s completely inappropriate! You shouldn’t—”

“Sounds like a plan,” Aether interrupted casually, his tone deliberately nonchalant as he ignored Mona’s outburst. He pushed his chair back slightly and stretched, his golden eyes calm but determined. “If anyone can navigate through those storms and get us to Inazuma, it’s Captain Beidou and her crew.”

“Wha—are you two just going to ignore me?!” Mona protested, waving her arms in exasperation. “This is so improper! And how can you be so casual about it?”

Paimon floated over to Mona, her tiny hands on her hips. “Mona, it’s not a big deal! Besides, Captain Beidou is kind of beautiful, don’t you think? Well… if you don’t count her snoring. It’s pretty loud.”

“Paimon!” Mona hissed, her face growing even redder. “That’s not the point! The point is—ugh, never mind!”

Chapter Text

The morning sun rose over Liyue Harbor, casting a golden hue on the calm sea. The tranquil waves lapped gently against the wooden docks, their rhythm a stark contrast to the bustling activity of the port. Merchants shouted over each other, peddling their wares, while dock workers hefted crates and barrels onto ships. The clatter of footsteps and the hum of conversation created an ever-present din, a symphony of industry and commerce.

Amid the chaos, a single figure moved with quiet authority. Momon’s imposing form, clad in a hooded cloak, dark armor, and his skeletal visage hidden behind a mask, cut through the crowd like a knife. Those who noticed him quickly stepped aside, whispers trailing in his wake. The hero who had helped save Liyue was not someone anyone dared to obstruct. A clear path opened before him as if the sea of people parted naturally, allowing him passage.

Momon’s strides carried him toward the harbor’s edge, where a massive ship loomed above the bustling port. The Alcor, Beidou’s legendary vessel, stood proud and imposing, its sails unfurled to catch the morning breeze. The ship's polished wood gleamed under the sunlight, its dragon-themed figurehead a testament to the ferocity of its captain.

Before stepping aboard, Momon paused, his sharp gaze catching sight of a familiar figure off to his right. Aether and Paimon were a few meters away, speaking with a tall, well-dressed man whose golden eyes and refined demeanor exuded an air of wisdom and authority.

“That guy again…” Momon muttered under his breath, his tone laced with quiet irritation. His piercing crimson eyes narrowed behind the mask as he recognized Zhongli.

From his body language, Zhongli appeared to be offering advice to Aether, gesturing calmly with his hands while Aether listened intently. Paimon, as usual, floated nearby, chiming in with occasional comments and nodding enthusiastically.

Momon stopped walking, his gauntleted fingers curling slightly as he observed the interaction. Zhongli, the so-called funeral consultant, had been a thorn in Momon’s side ever since the revelation of his elaborate plan to fake the death of Rex Lapis. While Momon understood the necessity of certain deceptions in the grand scheme of protecting Liyue, Zhongli’s method had left a bitter taste. Trust was a precious thing, and in Momon’s eyes, Zhongli had squandered it.

Yet, despite his misgivings, Aether seemed to trust him implicitly, which left Momon with little choice but to tolerate his presence. Besides, Momon thought that Zhongli wouldn’t want to confront him either.

Momon stepped onto the Alcor, the ship's deck bustling with activity as Beidou's crew prepared for the journey to Inazuma. The scent of salt and freshly polished wood mingled with the occasional whiff of brine from the sea, and the rhythmic creak of ropes being tightened punctuated the sounds of shouting sailors. Waves lapped gently against the ship’s hull, a soothing counterpoint to the lively scene.

“Ah, there he is! The hero of the hour!” a cheerful, familiar voice called out from behind him. Momon turned to see Beidou striding toward him, her confident gait unshaken even on the slightly swaying deck. She wore her signature crimson coat, the sunlight catching on her golden epaulets and the polished blade at her side.

“Captain Beidou,” Momon said, inclining his head slightly in greeting.

“Oh, come on, you can drop the formalities. Just ‘Beidou’ is fine for friends.” Beidou grinned, crossing her arms as she stopped in front of him. “Listen, about last night...” She rubbed the back of her neck, her cheeks tinting a faint red. “I might’ve overdone it with the alcohol. Totally passed out, huh? That must’ve been embarrassing.” She laughed, the sound rich and unapologetic, though a hint of genuine embarrassment crept into her expression.

Momon’s tone was calm, almost indifferent, as he replied, “Don’t worry about it. Things happen.”

Beidou raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. “Oh? So you’re saying it didn’t bother you? I half-expected a scolding, or at least a reminder about proper etiquette on a ship.”

Momon gave her a sidelong glance. “I’m not one to dwell on trivial matters.”

Her laughter boomed this time, drawing the attention of a few passing sailors, who exchanged knowing smirks. “Trivial, huh? Most guys would’ve been flustered with a captain falling asleep on their lap. You really are as unshakable as they say.” She leaned in slightly, teasingly, as if trying to gauge any reaction from him.

As the Alcor rocked gently with the harbor's waves, Momon turned to see Aether and Paimon climbing aboard. Paimon floated cheerfully, her small hands waving enthusiastically, while Aether carried his usual composed demeanor. The sunlight glinted off the ship's polished wood, and the faint sea breeze tousled their hair.

“Hello, Beidou!” Paimon greeted energetically, her voice bright as usual.

“Yo, welcome aboard!” Beidou replied, her grin as wide as the horizon. She leaned casually against the railing, one hand resting on her hip. “You two ready for some adventure? Hope you don’t get seasick!”

“Haha, we’ll be fine!” Paimon said, puffing out her chest as if to reassure herself as much as anyone else.

Aether stepped forward, his eyes meeting Momon’s. “Momon, we were just—”

Momon raised a hand slightly, cutting him off with a tone that was calm yet firm. “Yeah, I know. I saw.”

Aether blinked, then nodded, realizing Momon must have already noticed him speaking with Zhongli earlier on the dock. There was an unspoken understanding between them; Momon’s dislike for Zhongli wasn’t a secret, even if Aether didn’t entirely agree with it.

Paimon glanced nervously between them, sensing the tension. “Uh, anyway! Isn’t this ship amazing? It’s so big and sturdy—Paimon feels super safe! Right, Aether?”

“It’s impressive,” Aether admitted, his gaze wandering over the towering masts and the neatly coiled ropes. “Captain Beidou, you really know how to take care of your ship.”

Beidou laughed, her voice carrying over the chatter of the crew. “Of course! The Alcor isn’t just a ship; she’s a beauty, a fortress, and the best damn crew in all of Teyvat. Stick with me, and you’ll see just how far she can take us.”

“So when do we leave?” asked Paimon.

“Right now…” she said. “Alright, crew! Let’s get this ship moving! Time to set sail!” Beidou called, her voice carrying authority and excitement.

The crew responded with a loud cheer, their enthusiasm infectious as they got to work. Aether and Paimon found themselves smiling, while Momon stood silently, the wind ruffling his cape.

The Alcor cut through the calm waters, its sails catching the morning breeze as it drifted further from the bustling harbor of Liyue. On the dock, Zhongli stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the ship as it disappeared toward the horizon. His hands were clasped behind his back, the refined demeanor of the former Geo Archon betrayed only by the faint furrow of his brow.

“Momon…” he murmured, the name escaping his lips like a distant echo.

The weight of that single word lingered in the air. Zhongli’s thoughts drifted back to the unsettling encounter at the Northland Bank—the fleeting moment when he glimpsed Momon shrouded in darkness, his aura more oppressive than anything Zhongli had encountered in his long life. It was not fear that gripped him, but a sense of profound unease, as if he had gazed upon something that defied the natural order.

“What a strange entity…” he muttered to himself, his voice low but filled with contemplation. His gaze lingered a moment longer on the retreating ship before he closed his eyes, as if trying to erase the image of Momon from his mind.

Zhongli turned away from the pier, his steps deliberate and slow as he vanished into the thick crowd of merchants and travelers bustling through the port. The sounds of commerce and life surrounded him, but they felt distant—like echoes of another world.

The former Archon’s expression softened into neutrality as he navigated the crowd, though his thoughts were anything but calm.

“An enigma shrouded in darkness… not quite mortal, yet not a god. What place does such a being have in this world?” Zhongli pondered silently. His vast knowledge of Teyvat’s history and the divine offered no answers, and that uncertainty gnawed at him in a way he hadn’t experienced in centuries.

As he slipped out of sight, blending seamlessly into the throngs of Liyue’s citizens, one thing became clear in his mind:

“Whatever fate this traveler carries, it will inevitably converge with the path of the unknown. I only hope Teyvat is ready for what lies ahead.”

With that, Zhongli disappeared into the city, leaving the harbor behind, yet the shadow of Momon’s presence lingered in his thoughts like a distant storm on the horizon.

Aether and Paimon stood at the edge of the ship, gazing out at the sight. As the Alcor glided smoothly across the calm waters, the bustling city of Liyue Harbor became smaller in the distance. The golden glow of morning light bathed the receding coastline, creating a serene farewell to the land they were leaving behind.

“What a journey,” Paimon sighed wistfully, her gaze lingering on the fading silhouette of Liyue Harbor. “I’ll miss the food most of all. The Crystal Shrimp, the Lotus Flower Crisps… oh, and the Mora Meat!”

Aether smiled softly, his golden eyes fixed on the horizon. “Don’t worry, Paimon. We’ll be back again, no matter what.”

A soft voice drifted through the breeze, calm yet laced with a poetic warmth. “I’ll assure you, Inazuma is as great as Liyue in many ways—if not greater for some.”

Startled, Aether and Paimon turned to find a figure leaning casually against the ship’s mast, his demeanor relaxed but his presence striking. His platinum blond hair caught the light, with a single vivid streak of orange-red standing out against the pale locks. He wore traditional Inazuman attire, his outfit adorned with subtle floral patterns and tied with a red maple-leaf motif scarf. At his side hung a katana, its sheath finely crafted and well-worn from use.

“Who are you?” Paimon asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

The stranger straightened, offering a respectful bow. “My name is Kaedehara Kazuha. Please, call me Kazuha. I am but a wandering samurai from Inazuma, joining the Crux Fleet for a time to accompany them on their journeys.” His voice was gentle, each word carefully chosen, carrying the air of a poet or philosopher.

“Pleasure to meet you, Kazuha,” Aether said, extending his hand in greeting. “I’m Aether, and this is Paimon, my companion.”

“Paimon’s also his guide!” Paimon added quickly, puffing up with pride.

Kazuha chuckled softly, his crimson eyes glinting with amusement. “A fine introduction. It is an honor to meet travelers who carry the winds of adventure with them.”

Before the conversation could continue, Beidou arrived, her loud and lively voice cutting through the quiet exchange. “Ah! I see you’ve already met our temporary crew member!” she said, her signature grin stretching across her face as she clapped a hand on Kazuha’s shoulder.

Trailing behind her was Momon, his covered dark armor and imposing presence standing in stark contrast to the serene and approachable aura of Kazuha. His crimson gaze fixed on the samurai, silently analyzing him.

Momon noted the fine details of Kazuha’s appearance—the unique streak of color in his hair, the well-maintained katana at his side, and the unmistakable confidence in his stance. Though outwardly calm, there was a sharpness in Kazuha’s aura that spoke of skill and experience far beyond what his humble demeanor suggested.

“Kazuha’s been with us for a while now, lending a hand on deck and sharing his poetry when we’re not too busy. He’s got a way with words, let me tell you,” Beidou said, giving him a playful nudge.

Kazuha smiled faintly, inclining his head toward Beidou. “Captain Beidou speaks too highly of me, as always. My time aboard the Crux has been humbling, and I am grateful for the camaraderie.”

"Kazuha, this is Momon, one of the most interesting individuals I’ve had the pleasure of sailing with.”

"I’ve heard whispers about. It’s an honor to meet you, Momon. Your reputation precedes you.”

"Thank you." said Momon as they shook hands.

Paimon, intrigued, floated closer. “So, Kazuha, what’s your story? Why are you on this ship?”

Kazuha smiled faintly, the sea breeze tousling his hair. “I’ve been journeying for some time now, seeking freedom and harmony. Captain Beidou was kind enough to let me sail with her crew as I return to Inazuma. Though the land is in turmoil, it remains my home. Perhaps my journey will reveal something I have yet to find.”

“You speak like a poet!” Paimon exclaimed, her eyes sparkling.

Kazuha chuckled softly. “And you speak like someone who sees the world with wonder. That’s a gift. Treasure it.”

Beidou let out a hearty laugh, throwing her head back as the sound echoed across the deck. She clapped Kazuha on the back with a grin. “Lord have mercy. It’s like flowers come out of his mouth whenever he speaks! This is exactly why we all like him, y’know.”

Kazuha offered a modest smile, seemingly unaffected by the captain’s loud praise. “Words have a way of bringing people together, Captain. Much like the wind, they can carry both peace and turbulence. I simply strive for the former.”

Beidou groaned in mock frustration. “See?! There he goes again, making even the simplest sentence sound like a song.”

Meanwhile, Momon’s sharp eyes remained fixed on Kazuha, observing the ease with which the samurai swayed the atmosphere around him. “He’s like a chill version of Venti,” Momon thought, recalling the carefree yet chaotic bard from Mondstadt. “Less booze, more serenity. But the poetic flair? It’s uncanny.”

“What’s a Venti? Is that some sort of drink?” Beidou asked, catching Momon’s murmured thought.

“No, it’s… nothing. Just a person I’ve met,” Momon replied curtly, shaking his head.

Paimon floated closer, clearly invested in the exchange. “He does remind me of Venti too! But you’re way calmer and way less… ugh… annoying with your riddles and tricks.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Paimon,” Kazuha said with a gentle chuckle.

Beidou threw an arm around Kazuha’s shoulders again, pulling him into a side hug. “This guy’s a keeper, I’m telling you. With his words, we’ll be halfway to convincing the storm itself to let us through to Inazuma!”

“Let’s hope it’s that easy,” Aether said, sharing a small smile with Paimon as they all gazed toward the distant horizon.

The ship rocked gently as it cut through the calm waters, the morning sunlight casting a golden sheen on the horizon. The group stood near the railing, enjoying the fresh sea breeze as they delved into their conversation.

Paimon floated closer to Kazuha, her curiosity sparkling as she asked, "So, Kazuha, what can you tell us about the Shogun?"

Kazuha folded his arms, leaning slightly against the railing. His expression grew thoughtful, his gaze distant as though he were recalling fragments of a memory. "The Raiden Shogun?" he began softly. "She is an Archon that pursues what she calls 'eternity.' She will relentlessly carry out her will, no matter the cost, with little regard for what others may think or feel."

Aether frowned, tilting his head. "Pursuing 'eternity'? What does that mean?"

Kazuha glanced at Aether, his crimson eyes reflecting both reverence and caution. "That, traveler, is a question many in Inazuma have struggled to answer." He paused, the wind catching a stray lock of his platinum-blond hair. "I too wish to understand her interpretation of 'eternity.' Take Liyue, for instance—its Archon rules through 'contracts' meant to ensure the prosperity and security of all who dwell there. Yet, what does Inazuma's pursuit of 'eternity' bring to its people? What does it demand of them? Those are questions I seek to unravel."

Paimon placed her hands on her hips, her tiny frame radiating indignation. "Sounds like it’s just making things miserable! She doesn’t care how her people feel? How is that fair?"

Kazuha gave a small, wistful smile. "Fairness is not always a consideration for those who wield absolute power. But I have my reasons for believing her path may be misguided. Perhaps she, too, is searching for something… or running from something."

Aether's brow furrowed as he pondered the weight of Kazuha’s words. "That’s strange. Archons are supposed to protect their people, not make their lives harder."

The samurai nodded. "Indeed. Yet, the Shogun’s actions have created much division. In her pursuit of eternity, she has surrounded the nation with storms, isolating Inazuma from the rest of Teyvat. The Sakoku Decree has forced many to leave everything behind or suffer under its harsh constraints. Even her own people question her ideals, though they dare not voice their dissent openly."

Paimon shook her head in dismay. "So weird. Every Archon seems to have their own rule that people live by. Mondstadt is 'freedom,' Liyue is 'contracts,' and Inazuma is 'eternity.' But 'eternity' just sounds so… strict."

Momon, who had been silently observing the exchange, thought. "Out of the three, Mondstadt's ideal still seems the most tolerable.”

The air grew quiet for a moment, broken only by the rhythmic creaking of the ship’s hull as it sliced through the water. The city of Liyue was now a faint silhouette in the distance, a reminder of the stability they were leaving behind as they sailed toward a nation embroiled in turmoil.

Beidou’s voice cut through the reflective silence as she sauntered over, her confident stride in sync with the gentle sway of the ship. She leaned casually against the mast, arms crossed, and smirked. "Just to tell you guys, there’s also a civil war happening over there, so yeah, that country is pretty messed up."

Paimon’s eyes widened as she spun to face Beidou. "What?! A civil war too? How do people even live like that?!"

Beidou shrugged nonchalantly, though there was a hint of seriousness in her tone. "It’s complicated. The Shogun’s Sakoku Decree isn’t just about keeping outsiders away; it’s also about controlling her own people. Not everyone agrees with the way she’s running things. Some are rebelling against her vision of 'eternity.' Of course, going up against an Archon isn’t exactly a fair fight."

Aether frowned, his hand gripping the railing. "Who’s leading the rebellion? Are they trying to end the Sakoku Decree?"

Beidou tilted her head thoughtfully. "From what I’ve heard, the resistance is being led by a group called the Watatsumi Army. They’re based on Watatsumi Island and have rallied under their leader, Sangonomiya Kokomi. She’s supposed to be some kind of tactical genius, though I’ve never met her."

Paimon floated closer, her expression torn between concern and curiosity. "So the resistance is fighting the Shogun’s army? That sounds dangerous… but kind of brave too!"

Beidou chuckled. "Brave is one way to put it. Desperate might be another. But I’ll give them this—they’re not backing down, even when faced with overwhelming odds. It takes guts to fight for what you believe in, especially when your enemy is a god."

Momon crossed his arms as he leaned against the ship’s railing, his voice calm yet carrying a weight of certainty. "Unless they have another god on their side, they are fighting a losing war."

Beidou, who had been inspecting the ship’s deck with a casual air, paused and looked over her shoulder at him. "True that." She turned fully to face the group, her expression hardening slightly. "I don’t know much about the Electro Archon personally, but from what I’ve heard, she’s a cold and distant ruler. The kind who makes decisions from a lofty perch, detached from the lives of her people."

Kazuha, who was seated nearby sharpening his blade with a whetstone, nodded solemnly. "It’s been a year since the civil war began, and still, the resistance fights on. I must admit, their tenacity is remarkable. I am surprised they have resisted this long against an Archon’s forces."

Paimon’s tiny hands flew to her mouth in shock. "A whole year?! That’s so tragic. Just imagine the damage this war must have done to Inazuma. All the people who’ve suffered… the homes destroyed… the lives lost…"

Momon tapped his gauntleted fingers against the railing, his gaze fixed on the horizon as if pondering Kazuha’s words. "Well, maybe this Electro Archon doesn’t care much about trivial matters like the suffering of her people," he said bluntly. "Why should she, when she can let her lackeys do the dirty work for her?"

Beidou let out a dry chuckle, her arms crossing over her chest. "You’ve got a point there. It’s not like the Shogun herself is on the front lines. From what I’ve seen, she’s content to let her forces crush any resistance while she sits in her palace, untouched by the chaos."

Aether, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke his voice firmly. "But even if the Archon herself isn’t involved directly, doesn’t that make her even more responsible? She’s letting her people fight and die for her so-called ‘eternity,’ and for what? A vision of perfection that doesn’t even account for the lives it’s destroying?"

Momon’s tone was colder than the sea breeze as he stared into the distance, watching the stormy skies of Inazuma inch closer on the horizon. "Indoctrination and religious fanaticism do the job," he said, his voice laced with a quiet disdain. "And just like that, you have an army of brainwashed followers willing to die for a cause they barely understand."

Beidou sighed, shaking her head. "That’s the problem with regimes like this. Fear and devotion are their weapons, and they wield them well. But, hey," she added with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood, "every ruler thinks their power is unshakable—until it isn’t. The resistance is proof of that."

Paimon hovered closer to Momon, her curious expression slightly skeptical but intrigued. "Momon, you do seem to know a lot about bad rulers and messed-up systems. How come?"

His tone was calm but carried the weight of someone who had seen too much. "Not really, Paimon," he replied, his voice steady. "I just go by a simple truth: hard times create strong men, strong men create good times, good times create weak men, and weak men create hard times. This cycle repeats, and it doesn’t matter how long it takes—it’s inevitable."

The group went quiet for a moment, the rhythm of the waves filling the pause. The profound nature of Momon’s words seemed to resonate, even if they were hard to digest.

Beidou let out a low whistle, her arms crossed as she gave Momon an appraising look. "Well, damn, buddy, that’s one way to sum up the history of just about every nation I’ve ever been to. Guess you’ve thought about this a lot, huh?"

Kazuha closed his eyes briefly, nodding in agreement. "There is wisdom in those words. It reflects the balance of strength, peace, and eventual decline. Such a pattern is not easy to break, though. It’s a sobering reality."

Paimon tilted her head, still processing. "Wait, wait. So you’re saying… no matter what, things are always gonna go bad eventually? That’s kinda depressing, don’t you think?!"

Momon turned to look at her, his undead nature giving his gaze an unsettling calmness. "It’s not about being depressing, Paimon. It’s about understanding the nature of civilizations and people. Knowing this helps you prepare for when the hard times come—because they always will. And how you act during those times defines what comes after."

Aether placed a hand on Paimon’s shoulder, offering her a small, reassuring smile. "He’s right. Even if the cycle repeats, that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t strive to make the ‘good times’ last as long as we can. It’s about finding strength and hope, even in the hard times."

Beidou gave a hearty laugh, shaking her head. "You’re all way too philosophical this early in the morning. But I’ll say this—if the weak men Momon’s talking about bring about hard times, then people like us better be ready to stand up and fight when it happens."

Paimon crossed her arms, still pouting but looking slightly comforted. "Hmph. Fine. But I still think there’s gotta be a way to break the cycle! Maybe not forever, but… at least for longer!"

“Well, an immortal being could maintain stability,” Momon said, his tone dry, “but after a few centuries, they usually get bored. Then they start creating problems—just for the excitement. No matter how powerful or wise, even immortals can’t escape the monotony of eternity. The difference is, when they’re bored, their ‘games’ often reshape nations—or destroy them.”

Aether tensed for a moment, recognizing the subtle jab. Momon wasn’t naming anyone specifically, but Aether knew who he was alluding to. The mention of immortals who meddled in mortal affairs could only bring one particular figure to mind: Zhongli. Yet, Aether chose to stay silent, knowing it wasn’t worth escalating.

Chapter Text

The night had draped the sea in a serene, velvety darkness. The only light came from the shimmering stars above, their reflections dancing on the rippling water. The Alcor sailed steadily, its crew quiet, save for the occasional sounds of ropes creaking and the rhythmic splash of waves against the hull. The storms of Inazuma loomed ahead, their faint flickers of lightning still distant yet growing closer with each passing hour.

Momon had chosen a secluded spot on the deck, resting on a makeshift bed of stacked wooden crates and coiled ropes. The cool night breeze whispered around him as he reclined, his skeletal frame oddly at ease. Above him, the sky was a masterpiece, a sprawling canvas of stars glimmering in patterns that seemed both familiar and alien.

Though he appreciated the beauty, something about the night sky unsettled him. He had noticed it before but had refrained from delving deeper. Tonight, curiosity won.

"Aren't those…?" Momon's voice was a low murmur, his crimson eyes narrowing. The faint glow of his eyes reflected a truth he could not ignore. His skeletal face, with its unnerving stillness, betrayed an intense focus as he whispered the incantation.

"[See Through]."

The spell sharpened his vision, cutting through the limitations of mortal sight. As the veil of distance and illusion parted, he saw them—fragments of an object adrift in space, glinting faintly like shattered pieces of an ancient artifact. They floated eerily, unbound by gravity, their jagged edges casting strange shadows against the backdrop of the stars.

"Asteroids… No, these are something else," he muttered, suspicion creeping into his voice. With a flick of his wrist, he invoked an enhanced version of the spell.

"[See Through - V5]."

The spell surged, its power stretching his perception further into the cosmos. He was moments away from unveiling the truth when—

"Hey there!"

The sudden voice startled him, breaking his concentration and dispelling the spell. Momon turned his head sharply to see Beidou standing nearby, a broad grin lighting up her face. She held a lantern, its warm glow illuminating her wind-tousled hair and confident stance.

"Beidou," Momon said, his voice calm but tinged with annoyance.

Beidou laughed, the sound rich and carefree. "Didn't mean to scare you, big guy. You looked so deep in thought I figured I'd pull you back to reality."

"I was just staring at the stars to pass the time," Momon said, his voice a low rumble that broke the tranquil quiet.

Beidou, who had leaned against the railing nearby, glanced up at the sky as well. "Ah yes, they do look magnificent tonight," she said, her tone uncharacteristically soft, as if the sight had briefly stolen her usual boldness. After a moment, she turned her head to look at him. "But… you really plan to sleep on those boxes?"

Momon shifted slightly but didn't sit up. "Sleep? I don't sleep. I'm not human," he replied, his tone casual, as though stating a simple fact. "I have never told you right?"

Beidou blinked, the revelation catching her off guard. "Oh…" Her voice trailed off for a moment as her brows furrowed slightly in thought. She tilted her head, studying him more intently. "So, that's why you wear that mask all the time, huh? And why you're so tall."

Momon finally turned his head to face her, his skeletal features partially hidden in the shadow of his hood. "I'm only 195 cm. It's not that rare," he said, his tone even, though there was a faint trace of amusement in his words.

Beidou let out a hearty laugh, the sound carrying easily over the ship's deck. "Haha! The only tall ones I've seen are sea monsters and… well, you." She grinned, her humor unshaken by his cryptic demeanor.

Without hesitation, she plopped down on the same set of boxes, sitting close to him. The boldness of her actions was typical of Beidou—never one to shy away from proximity or confrontation. "You're full of surprises, you know that? I figured you were a bit… unusual, but not sleeping at all? That's a whole other level."

Momon's crimson eye lights flickered faintly as he regarded her. "Unusual is one way to put it," he said, his voice steady but enigmatic.

Beidou leaned back slightly, propping herself up on her hands as she gazed at the stars again. "Well, unusual's not a bad thing. Keeps things interesting." She shot him a sideways glance, her expression curious yet relaxed. "So, if you don't sleep, what do you do with all that time? Just stare at the stars every night?"

Momon allowed himself a moment of contemplation before answering. "I observe. I think. Sometimes, I act. Time flows differently for me, so I don't feel the need for rest as humans do."

Beidou let out a low whistle. "Hah, sounds like you've got a lot on your mind. Must get lonely, though."

"I've been a lonely person for a long time, and that does not bother me. Loneliness is just… there. Boredom might try to creep in from time to time, but even that feels insignificant." He shifted his gaze back to the stars, the faint glow of celestial light reflecting in his hollow sockets. "I suppose you could say I'm just… vibing. You know what I mean?"

Beidou chuckled, her laugh warm and unrestrained. She leaned back on her palms, tilting her head toward him. "Vibing, huh?" she repeated, savoring the unexpected casualness of the word. "I gotta admit, for someone who looks so serious all the time, you have a way of surprising people, Momon."

She sat up straighter, brushing a strand of hair from her face as her grin widened. "But yeah, I totally get what you're saying—even if I'm the complete opposite!" She laughed again, the sound hearty and genuine. "I live for the noise, the excitement, the chaos of life. That's why I love being out here on the sea, meeting new people, and finding new adventures."

"You could say I'm already on an adventure with Aether and Paimon," Momon said, his voice steady but with a faint hint of amusement. "So, I hope this journey is as enjoyable as the ones before."

Beidou chuckled, resting her elbow on her knee as she looked at him with a mischievous grin. "Yeah, I get that. But, no offense, when I see you with those two, you just… look out of place."

Momon's crimson dots lights flickered as he turned his head toward her. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well," Beidou said, her grin widening as she shifted her position, now leaning closer to him. "I can just imagine you being part of a group of mysterious, scary-looking guys. You know, the type that shows up in legends or ghost stories to scare the daylights out of people." Her hand reached out almost instinctively, fingers brushing against the edge of his armor as if testing its texture.

Momon stiffened slightly, his skeletal form unnaturally still, though his voice remained calm. "Uh… well, you're not wrong. I was once part of such a group. Or perhaps it's better to call it a clan."

Beidou's eyes lit up with interest, and she lay back further, now almost shoulder-to-shoulder with him. "Haha, yup, that's exactly the vibe I got from you! So, what kind of spooky clan was it? Did you all wear masks? Have secret rituals under the moonlight?"

Momon stiffened ever so slightly, the weight of her proximity and casual touch setting off a sense of unease. He wasn't unfamiliar with intrigue—his presence often invited it—but this interaction reminded him of a certain overly flirtatious librarian in Mondstadt.

"No, none of that," Momon said firmly, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic softness as he reflected. "We were mostly a defensive clan, focused on protecting and strengthening ourselves rather than terrorizing others."

Beidou raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Defensive, huh? That's surprising, considering how ominous you look. Guess I pegged you wrong." She leaned closer, her eyes narrowing playfully as if trying to uncover a secret hidden in his mask. "Still, I bet you guys were no pushovers."

"I understand the assumption. Many see power and immediately associate it with aggression or conquest. But you are right. We were not pushovers. If someone messed with us, we retaliated with no mercy."

Beidou's smirk widened as she leaned in closer, a slight flush on her cheeks betraying her enthusiasm—or perhaps something else entirely. "Hm, that's badass…" Her gaze lingered on the intricate details of Momon's mask. Her red-tinged face and sly grin suggested she had something in mind. "Hey, why don't we go to my cabin and talk more?"

Momon tilted his head slightly, clearly taken aback by the suggestion. "Is that… necessary?"

"Oh, come on now, don't be so stiff! Let's go," Beidou laughed, her tone teasing as she stood and reached for Momon's hand. Though she wasn't nearly strong enough to physically pull him up, he decided to oblige, rising to his feet with an almost regal composure.

As the two walked toward Beidou's cabin, the murmur of the crew's voices carried on the night breeze. A few sailors stopped in their tracks, staring wide-eyed as their captain, known for her fiery independence, led the enigmatic and imposing figure by the hand.

"Is it just me, or does it look like Captain Beidou's got a thing for that guy?" one sailor whispered, his tone dripping with envy.

Another leaned against the ship's railing, crossing his arms as he watched. "I'm kinda jealous. That Momon guy must be really good with women to the point he made our captain his."

A third sailor, shaking his head in disbelief, added, "Yeah, can you imagine anyone taming Captain Beidou? He must be some kind of legend."

The soft crunch of boots on the deck interrupted their whispers as Juza, the Alcor's Chief Mate, strode into view. His sharp eyes narrowed at the huddled group, his deep voice cutting through the chatter. "Oi, you fools. Get back to your posts. The storm is approaching, and you don't want to be caught slacking when it hits."

The sailors jumped at the command, straightening up immediately. "Ye-yes, sir!" they stammered in unison, scrambling to their stations.

The morning light filtered through the wooden shutters of Beidou's cabin, casting soft golden hues across the room. Momon lay on his back, his skeletal body exposed save for the pair of dark trousers he still wore. His crimson eyes glowed faintly as they stared at the wooden beams of the ceiling. Beside him, Beidou lay nestled against his chest, her bare arm draped over his ribcage as she breathed softly in her sleep.

Last night had been… unexpected.

Momon shifted slightly, careful not to disturb Beidou. He replayed the events in his mind. Beidou, confident and unbothered, had pushed past his mask—both literally and figuratively. Even after discovering his true skeletal form, she had been undeterred. Her boldness had surprised him, but what followed was something he hadn't anticipated. When she discovered that he, despite his skeletal body, possessed what was necessary to satisfy her passion, the night took a turn he hadn't anticipated.

"She really didn't care," Momon thought, his skeletal jaw tightening as he glanced down at her. Beidou's face was relaxed, her usual fiery demeanor replaced by a rare serenity as she slept.

For a moment, he raised his hand, hovering it above her head. A faint magical glow began to emanate from his fingers as he whispered under his breath, "[Control Amnesia]."

The spell lingered in the air, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts. "Should I do this?"

He stared at her, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest. The memories of last night replayed in his mind—the way she had accepted him without hesitation, the way she had laughed off the revelation of his skeletal form, and the passion they had shared despite the impossibility of it all.

"No…" he muttered, letting the glow dissipate.

The thought of erasing her memory felt cruel, even selfish. To rob someone of their experiences, no matter how personal or strange, was a violation he couldn't justify. Worse, he wasn't certain how his spell would behave in this world. It was untested, and the risk of unintentionally damaging her mind was too high.

"What if I accidentally erase everything?" he thought, clenching his skeletal fingers into a loose fist. "Or worse—leave her fragmented?"

Beidou stirred slightly, murmuring something inaudible as she shifted closer to him. Her arm slid down slightly, resting against his sternum.

Momon sighed softly, his internal conflict unresolved but leaning toward caution.

"Man, this is Lisa's situation all over again," he muttered to himself. The thought of the sultry librarian from Mondstadt brought a faint pang of regret. That encounter had been… complicated, to say the least.

Beidou's eyelids fluttered as she began to wake, her gaze slowly focusing on him. For a moment, her expression was blank, but then a lazy smile spread across her face.

"Morning, skelly guy," she said, her voice husky from sleep. She stretched, seemingly unbothered by the events of the previous night.

Momon tilted his head slightly, his crimson eyes narrowing. "You… are surprisingly calm."

Beidou chuckled, propping herself up on one elbow as she looked at him. "Why wouldn't I be? You're still you, aren't you? So what if you're… a bit unconventional?"

"Beidou, I just want you to keep this between us," he said, his voice steady, though the slight tilt of his head betrayed a hint of uncertainty.

Beidou, still lounging comfortably under the sheets, grinned and gave him a playful salute. "Haha, that's a promise, okay? Cross my heart and all that," she said, her tone casual but her eyes holding sincerity.

The cabin was bathed in a gentle glow as sunlight filtered through the window, but the moment was short-lived. Suddenly, the light dimmed, and the room was enveloped in shadow, the telltale sign of something vast and ominous approaching.

The cabin darkened further, the faint light that remained now shrouded in gray hues as the Alcor entered the outskirts of Inazuma's infamous storm belt. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a low growl that seemed to echo through the wooden walls. Beidou sat up slightly, her hair cascading over her shoulders as she glanced at the window.

"Ah, looks like we've reached the storms of Inazuma," she said, her voice tinged with excitement. "Feels like home to me."

Momon nodded, his gaze lingering on the window for a moment longer. "Is that so? Then we should go outside. I'd like to see how your crew handles this firsthand," he said as he began to rise.

Before he could stand, Beidou reached out and grabbed his hand, her grip firm but warm. "Hold on, not so fast," she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Momon paused, tilting his head in curiosity. "What is it?"

Beidou leaned back slightly, pulling him down to sit beside her once more. "The crew can handle it with ease. Trust me, they've been through worse storms than this. Let them do their thing while we… stay here a little longer."

She gestured to the darkened cabin, where the muted sound of rain tapping against the window and the occasional roll of thunder created an oddly soothing ambiance. "The storm's darkness, the sound of the rain… it's got such a nice vibe, don't you think?"

Momon hesitated, his red orbs glowing faintly. He wasn't used to indulging in moments like this—moments of calm amidst chaos. Still, something about Beidou's relaxed demeanor and the way she looked at him made him reconsider.

"…Alright," he said finally, his voice low but soft, as though conceding to an argument he wasn't entirely sure he'd lost.

Beidou's hand rested on Momon's chest, her fingers lightly tracing the contours of his skeletal form. She chuckled softly, her expression both curious and playful. "You're all bones, yet… it feels soft," she remarked, tilting her head as though trying to solve a puzzle.

Momon shifted slightly under her touch. "It's just a type of invisible skin, nothing more," he replied matter-of-factly, though there was a subtle undertone of embarrassment in his voice.

Beidou's lips curled into a sly grin as she leaned closer, her mischievous nature shining through. "Hehe, so that's why I felt your lips when we kissed. I thought I was just gonna kiss your teeth," she teased, her tone dripping with amusement. "Did you, perhaps, build your body this way… so you could, I don't know… go to bed with women? Hehe." She burst into a hearty laugh, clearly enjoying herself.

Momon's response was immediate and flustered, though his undead composure barely wavered. "No, no! Not at all!" he said, raising his hands defensively. "I only did it as a joke a long time ago. It wasn't meant for—" He stopped himself, realizing how absurdly awkward the situation had become. "I never thought I'd put it to use. You know, for… anything like that."

Beidou's laughter rang out even louder at his flustered response. "As a joke? Haha, you're so funny!" she said, her eyes glinting with genuine warmth. Without warning, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a firm hug.

The storm outside continued to rumble, the sound of rain tapping rhythmically against the window panes of the cabin. Beidou, still comfortably nestled against Momon, tilted her head in curiosity as a thought struck her.

"So," she began, her tone playful but laced with genuine curiosity, "since you said you're an undead… could you be the same kin as Qiqi? You know, that little girl from Bubu Pharmacy with the talisman on her forehead?"

Momon's glowing red eyes flickered as he turned his head slightly toward her. "Ah, yes. The little one… I've seen her. Well," he said, his voice calm and measured, "we're similar in some ways, but not the same. She is a zombie, a being reanimated through external forces and dependent on that talisman for survival. I, on the other hand, am an overlord."

Beidou sat up slightly, resting her chin on her palm as she studied him. "Hoo… so there are different types of undead, huh? You're not just one big spooky category?"

"Yes, there are many types of undead, each with unique characteristics. Zombies, like Qiqi, are among the lowest forms—mindless, slow, often decaying. But Qiqi is an exception; she's been bound by a talisman that gives her sentience and purpose." he said.

Beidou tapped her chin thoughtfully. "And you? What makes an Overlord stand out?"

"An Overlord," Momon began, "is the pinnacle of the undead race. It represents the very apex of what it means to transcend mortality."

"Oh my, that means I've gone to bed with the god of the undead, huh?" She chuckled, her laughter rich and unapologetic. "I knew there was something special about you, but this takes the prize."

Momon shifted slightly, his skeletal form faintly glowing in the dim light of the cabin. Despite the lack of flesh, his posture betrayed a hint of awkwardness. "Well, uh, thanks... I guess?" he replied, his deep voice carrying an unusual note of discomfort.

Beidou grinned, clearly enjoying his reaction. "Oh, don't act so shy now! You're the one who just gave me the rundown on being the 'pinnacle of the undead.' I'd say that's worth a little celebration, wouldn't you?"

Momon shifted, his skeletal frame easing up from the bed with purpose. "I'd say it's time for me to get up, and you should eat something," he said in his usual steady, composed tone.

Beidou, however, had other plans. She groaned playfully, wrapping an arm around his bony arm to tug him back down. "Oh, you're ruining the fun, big guy," she teased, her voice rich with warmth and mischief. "We've got another whole day until we reach Inazuma. What's the rush?"

Momon hesitated, his crimson eyes glowing faintly as he tilted his head. "Another day, huh…" He trailed off, a mix of contemplation and resignation in his tone.

Beidou smirked and leaned closer, her voice soft yet laced with her boldness. "Come on, Overlord. Don't tell me the ruler of the undead gets tired." She traced her fingers along the smooth edges of his skeletal chest, her touch both tender and playful. "Besides, it's not like anyone's going to interrupt us."

Momon sighed lightly, the corners of his mouth twitching as if considering a reply. "You're insistent, aren't you?"

And so, time seemed to blur for the two as they remained in the cabin, the storm outside a distant hum compared to the fiery connection they shared. Day turned to night, and the Alcor's journey continued steadily, undisturbed by the storm or its passengers below deck.

The crew, accustomed to their captain's antics, chose to steer clear of the cabin, exchanging knowing glances and playful smirks but refraining from any interruptions. After all, Beidou was as formidable as she was unpredictable, and no one dared to intrude on her private affairs.

Next day

Momon emerged from the captain's cabin, his usual imposing figure clad in his dark attire, and the mask once again obscuring his skeletal visage. The early morning sunlight gleamed off his armor as the wooden boards of the Alcor creaked beneath his measured steps. The gentle sea breeze washed over him, carrying the salty tang of the ocean and the distant cries of seagulls.

A moment of silence swept over the deck as the crew of the Alcor turned to stare at him. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to barely concealed grins, their imaginations clearly running wild. What on earth had the Captain and this mysterious, intimidating figure been doing in her cabin for so long?

Momon ignored the looks, his stoic demeanor unshaken, though inwardly, he sighed. I've attracted too much attention again…

Before he could take another step, a familiar, chipper voice broke through the murmurs.

"Momon! Where have you been?!"

Paimon came hovering straight at him like an excited projectile, arms flapping dramatically. Behind her, Aether followed at a more measured pace, a curious look on his face.

Momon adjusted his stance, hands folding behind his back as he turned to greet them. "I was… occupied. Taking care of some business."

Paimon's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Business?" Her tiny hands went to her hips. "You've been missing since yesterday morning! All day and all night?"

Aether stopped beside her, trying—and failing—to suppress a knowing smile as he glanced at Momon. "I heard you were with Captain Beidou the entire time," he said casually, though there was a faint teasing edge to his tone.

Momon tilted his head slightly, the red glow beneath his mask momentarily flickering. "Yes," he replied evenly. "We were discussing… important matters."

Paimon's brow furrowed as she hovered closer, clearly unconvinced. "Important matters? What kind of 'business' takes that long?"

Momon's composure remained steady, though a small part of him felt cornered. Before he could answer, Aether let out a light chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as he intervened.

"Hahaha, Paimon, don't try to dig that deep," Aether said, casting Momon a subtle, understanding look before turning back to his floating companion. "Beidou is a pretty important figure, you know. Captain of the Crux Fleet and all. I'm sure it was a great opportunity to do business with her."

Aether blinked at Momon, a sly, knowing glint in his eyes. It was subtle, but the message was clear—Don't worry, I'll cover for you.

Paimon's expression relaxed slightly, her suspicion replaced by curiosity and surprise. "Ohh, I see! That's amazing! Doing business with Beidou must be like doing business with Ningguang!" She floated in a small circle as if imagining the possibilities. "Wow, so cool!"

Momon exhaled internally, relieved that Aether's distraction had worked. "Yes, well," he said smoothly, "it was… productive."

"See, Paimon? Nothing to worry about," Aether added with a grin.

"Hmm, I guess." Paimon crossed her arms, clearly still pondering. "But you better let us know next time, okay? Paimon thought you got lost or something!"

"I'll keep that in mind," Momon replied, his tone calm as always.

From the corner of his eye, Momon noticed a few of the Alcor's crew smirking to themselves as they went about their duties, some whispering under their breath while sneaking glances his way. Great, he thought sarcastically, more gossip.

Just then, the cabin door creaked open behind him.

"Morning, boys!" Beidou's booming voice rang out across the deck, as casual and confident as ever. She stepped into the sunlight, her signature red coat fluttering in the breeze, her usual swagger on full display. She shot Momon a playful wink before addressing the crew.

"Quit standing around like you've never seen someone leave my cabin before!" she teased with a wide grin, eliciting a burst of laughter and sheepish shuffling among the sailors. "The land of Inzauma is on the horizon!"

The crew quickly dispersed, though their lingering smiles spoke volumes.

Paimon blinked in confusion, looking between Beidou and Momon. "Huh? What's so funny?"

"Nothing you need to worry about," Aether said quickly, grabbing Paimon's arm and leading her toward the edge of the deck.

"Oh look!" Paimon exclaimed, her voice brimming with excitement as she pointed toward the horizon. "It's Inazuma!"

Momon and Aether turned their heads to follow her outstretched finger. There, in the distance, the jagged silhouette of Inazuma's islands came into view, emerging from the vast ocean like a scene out of a painting. The sunlight pierced through the clouds, casting dramatic rays across the rugged peaks and dense forests.

The thunder god's dominion, grew larger and more vivid with each passing moment as the Alcor sailed closer.

Beidou, standing proudly at the helm, grinned as she took in the sight of the approaching land. "There she is—the land of eternal thunder and lightning," she said, her voice carrying easily over the sound of the waves. "We've almost made it, crew! Get ready to dock!"

The sailors erupted into cheers, and their spirits lifted after the long voyage. They scrambled across the deck, securing ropes and preparing for the final stretch of their journey.

Aether leaned against the railing, his amber eyes reflecting the distant shoreline. "So that's Inazuma," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "The land of the Electro Archon…"

"This is Ritou Island," Beidou said, gesturing toward the bustling port as the Alcor slowed to a halt near the dock. "From here, you'll continue your journey into Inazuma. Be careful—this place might look lively, but don't let your guard down."

Momon stood at the ship's railing, his crimson gaze sweeping across the scene. The dock was a hive of activity, with sailors, fishermen, and merchants moving about, their voices rising and falling in a cacophony of trade and chatter. Soldiers in violet uniforms bearing the Electro Archon's sigil patrolled the area, their eyes sharp and vigilant.

The Alcor's crew worked quickly, dropping the anchor and lowering the gangplank. Crux sailors began unloading crates, their movements practiced and efficient. Aether and Paimon stood beside Momon, taking in the new land with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

Momon stepped forward, his boots thudding heavily on the gangplank as he descended to the dock. His imposing figure drew immediate attention. Soldiers and dockworkers alike paused in their tasks, their eyes drawn to the towering, masked man. A palpable unease spread through the crowd.

The soldiers exchanged wary glances, their hands resting on the hilts of their weapons. But it was Momon who held their attention. His presence was overwhelming, his aura exuding a subtle but undeniable menace. Though he made no hostile movements, the air around him seemed to thrum with an otherworldly power that set people on edge.

"Is it just me, or are they all staring at us?" Paimon whispered, glancing nervously at the soldiers.

"They're staring at him," Aether replied under his breath, nodding toward Momon.

"Well, guys, this is where our paths split," Beidou said, her voice tinged with both cheer and a hint of caution. She stood confidently on the dock, her hands resting on her hips as the crew of the Alcor worked behind her, unloading crates with practiced efficiency. "As soon as we finish unloading these goods, we'll set sail. Used to love coming to Inazuma, but now? It's as unpredictable as the ocean itself."

Momon, Aether, and Paimon turned to face her, sensing the weight behind her words. Beidou reached into a small satchel slung over her shoulder and pulled out three neatly folded pieces of parchment.

"Here," she said, handing each of them a document.

Paimon unfolded hers curiously. "Uh, what are these for?"

Beidou crossed her arms, raising an amused eyebrow. "What? You thought you could just waltz into Inazuma without entry papers?"

"Oh… right," Paimon muttered, her cheeks puffing out in embarrassment.

Beidou chuckled, shaking her head. "Had a friend of mine pull some strings to get these for you. Outlanders aren't exactly welcome in Inazuma these days, especially adventurers. But with these, you're all clear. They'll make an exception for you guys—just don't mess it up."

Momon took his paper and examined it through his mask. The weight of Beidou's assistance wasn't lost on him. "Thank you," he said, his deep voice sincere, though quiet.

"Hey, no need to get all serious on me," Beidou replied, grinning. She stepped closer and placed a hand on his armored chest, her touch lingering as she winked. "But you owe me one, big guy. Don't forget that."

Beidou turned to Aether and Paimon. "Alright, here's the deal. Head over to the inspector first, and then make your way to the Outlander Affairs Agency," Beidou continued, straightening up and pointing toward a modest building near the docks. "That's where you'll get officially processed. Don't wander off or get into trouble. The last thing you want is to end up on the Raiden Shogun's radar."

Aether nodded, slipping the paper into his bag. "Got it. Thanks, Beidou. You've been a big help."

"Don't mention it," Beidou said, waving off the gratitude. "Now go on. You've got a long journey ahead."

She turned back toward her ship but paused, glancing over her shoulder. "Oh, and big guy…"

Momon tilted his head, meeting her gaze.

"Take care of yourself," she said, her voice softer now. "I'll see you again. Count on it."

With that, she gave a final wave and strode confidently back to the Alcor. Her crew saluted her as she approached, her commanding presence returning as she barked orders to speed up the unloading process.

As they stood on the dock, Paimon looked at the papers in her hands. "Wow, Beidou really went above and beyond for us. She's so cool!"

"She is," Aether agreed, slipping his permit into his satchel. "We should get moving, though. The longer we stay here, the more attention we'll draw."

Aether, Momon, and Paimon walked briskly through the bustling dock of Ritou, the air thick with salt, trade chatter, and the rhythmic sounds of sailors at work. They stopped to ask around for the inspector, eventually presenting their papers to a stern-looking guard near a checkpoint. After a tense moment of scrutiny, the guard gave a small grunt of approval and waved them through into the town.

"Hehe, Beidou was right—these papers really did the job!" Paimon chirped, floating alongside Aether with an excited twirl.

Aether glanced at the official stamp on his paper. "Let's not get too relaxed, though. We're just through the first checkpoint."

"Now we need to find the Outlander Affairs Agency," Aether continued, tucking the paper into his satchel.

As they stepped further into Ritou, Momon took in the sights with quiet fascination. The small port settlement exuded a unique charm, its architecture reminiscent of feudal Japan—wooden buildings with sloped, tiled roofs, paper lanterns swaying gently in the breeze, and merchants calling out to customers in front of their stalls. The townsfolk wore elegant and traditional Inazuman attire, from finely patterned kimonos to more practical workwear. Even the cats lounging lazily on porches seemed to add to the town's serene but lived-in atmosphere.

"It's like I've stepped into Japan… but the old one" Momon muttered under his breath, his crimson eyes scanning the bustling streets. To him, it was a strange sight—alien, yet fascinating.

"We should ask a local where the Outlander Affairs Agency is," Momon suggested in his usual calm and deliberate tone.

"Oh right! Let me ask this guy," said Paimon, her eyes locking onto a tall blonde man crouched down, gently patting a content-looking black and white cat near a merchant's storefront. Paimon hovered over to him without hesitation.

"Hello, mister! Sorry to disturb you," Paimon greeted brightly as the man looked up.

The man stood, brushing off his hands and turning to them with an easygoing smile. His demeanor was warm and approachable like he was always ready to lend a hand. "Not at all!" he said, his tone cheerful and polite.

"We're looking for the Outlander Affairs Agency. Do you happen to know where it is?" Paimon asked.

Aether blinked, frowning slightly as he appraised the man. "Paimon, we said to ask a local. Does this guy look like he's from Inazuma to you?"

"Huh?" Paimon turned back to the man with a squint. Now that Aether mentioned it, something was off—his face, his bright blonde hair, and even his demeanor didn't quite match the locals they'd seen so far. "Wait… you're right! You don't look like you're from around here!"

The man let out a hearty laugh, the sound clear and friendly. "Hahaha! Well, you caught me. I'm not originally from Inazuma. I'm from Mondstadt, actually, though I've been living here for a long time." He offered a slight bow. "The name's Thoma. Nice to meet you."

Paimon let out an "Ohhh" of realization before pointing animatedly at her companions. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Thoma! This one here is Aether." She gestured to the blonde traveler, who gave a polite nod. "And this tall guy is Momon." She hovered beside the masked figure, who loomed slightly but stood still, exuding an air of quiet authority. "And Paimon is, well, Paimon! Hehe."

At the mention of their names, Thoma's expression shifted into surprise, his green eyes widening. "Wait a minute…" He looked at them more closely, realization dawning on his face. "You're the Aether and Paimon? The Honorary Knight of Mondstadt? And…" His gaze lingered on Momon for a moment, studying his imposing figure. "And you must be the mysterious figure everyone's been whispering about from Liyue…"

"Huh? What?" Paimon blinked in confusion. "You know us?"

Thoma grinned, his earlier surprise giving way to genuine admiration. "Of course I do! You're the Honorary Knight and the heroes of Liyue! People here have definitely heard of what you've accomplished. It's an honor to be standing before you." He gave a slight bow of respect.

Paimon puffed up with pride, her tiny hands on her hips. "Woah! So even the people here in Inazuma know about us, huh?"

Aether smiled faintly, though he remained modest as usual. "Word travels faster than I thought."

Thoma straightened up and crossed his arms casually, his smile unwavering. "You'd be surprised how fast news spreads—especially when it involves saving nations and defeating ancient gods." He turned toward Momon, his gaze lingering curiously. "And you… you've got quite the reputation building up as well. Mysterious, powerful, and enigmatic—that's how they've been describing you."

Momon tilted his head slightly, the mask concealing his expression but his voice carrying a steady calm. "Rumors tend to embellish things."

Thoma chuckled. "Maybe, but there's always some truth in them." He clapped his hands together suddenly. "Anyway! You're looking for the Outlander Affairs Agency, right? Follow me."

Thoma smiled warmly and gestured for the group to follow. Aether, Paimon, and Momon exchanged glances before falling into step behind him. The streets of Ritou were lively and colorful, with vendors hawking their wares and locals bustling about their daily routines. Momon's imposing figure drew a few curious and wary stares, though most quickly looked away.

As they approached a tall, well-maintained building near the center of the settlement, a woman dressed in a sharp uniform stood outside, her hands clasped neatly in front of her. Her posture exuded professionalism, though her expression softened when she saw Thoma.

"Hello, Yurika!" Thoma greeted her with his usual easygoing cheer.

"Ah, Thoma, hello. How can I help you today?" Yurika asked, her tone polite but curious.

"No, no, I'm not here on my own behalf. I just helped these travelers find the Outlander Affairs Agency so they can apply for residency," Thoma explained, stepping slightly aside to gesture at Aether, Paimon, and Momon.

Yurika's gaze swept over the group, lingering a fraction longer on Momon. Her composed demeanor wavered ever so slightly before she returned to her professional tone. "I see. So you three have completed the entry procedures, I assume?"

"Yes, ma'am," Aether replied with a small nod.

"Excellent," Yurika said, reaching into a small satchel at her side and retrieving a ledger. "Now then, the processing fee will be three million Mora."

"HUH?!" Paimon's outraged shriek echoed through the street, drawing the attention of a few passersby.

"Three million?!" Aether exclaimed, his usually calm tone tinged with disbelief.

"Mhm." Yurika didn't flinch at their reactions, maintaining her businesslike composure. "One million per applicant, which totals three million Mora."

Suddenly, the air seemed to shift. A cold, oppressive sensation swept over the area, sending a shiver down the spines of everyone present. Yurika froze in place, her confident demeanor crumbling as an overwhelming aura of dread enveloped her. Thoma instinctively stiffened, his cheerful expression replaced with wide-eyed apprehension.

The source of this palpable fear stepped forward.

Momon moved with deliberate slowness, his heavy boots echoing against the ground. His towering frame cast a shadow over Yurika as he approached. His crimson gaze bore into her, unblinking and merciless. The very light around him seemed to dim, as though his presence was devouring it.

Sweat began to bead on Yurika's forehead, her hands trembling as she clutched the ledger. She looked up at Momon, her composed facade entirely shattered.

"Forgive me," Momon said, his voice cold and calm, but laced with an unspoken menace that sent chills through everyone. "I believe I misheard you. It might be good manners to repeat what you just said."

"I-I…" Yurika stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt like prey standing before a predator, powerless and insignificant. "T-The fee is… s-six hundred Mora, sir!"

Momon tilted his head slightly, the motion slow and deliberate. Then, to everyone's surprise, he reached into a small pouch at his side and tossed it onto the table in front of Yurika. The sound of coins jingling inside broke the tense silence.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said, his tone suddenly courteous, though no less intimidating. "Here's one thousand Mora. Treat yourself to something nice."

Yurika's shaking hands scrambled to grab the pouch as she nodded rapidly. "Th-Thank you, sir! I'll process your application right away!" She turned on her heel and practically sprinted into the building, the pouch clutched tightly to her chest.

As quickly as it had arrived, the oppressive aura dissipated, leaving the area feeling oddly lighter. Thoma exhaled a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, his hand pressed to his chest.

"P-Paimon was so scared," the floating companion admitted, her voice trembling as she hovered closer to Aether.

"You're not the only one. I almost couldn't feel my feet," Thoma added with a nervous chuckle. He glanced at Momon with a mixture of awe and unease. "What… what was that?"

Aether turned to Momon, his expression curious but wary. "What did you do?"

Momon stood tall, his voice as calm as ever. "I used a skill of mine. It's called [Despair Aura, Level 1]."

"Wait, that was magic?!" Paimon asked, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Not magic," Momon corrected. "A skill. Like your ability to fly, Paimon."

"Ohhh…" Paimon nodded slowly, though her expression still betrayed a hint of lingering fear. "Well, whatever it was, remind Paimon to stay on your good side!"

Momon didn't respond, his gaze turning back to the building where Yurika had disappeared. The interaction was over, but the impression he'd left on everyone around him would linger much longer.

Chapter Text

The group left the building after they had finished applying for residency and once again walked to the center of Ritou.

Thoma broke the silence first, running a hand through his blond hair with a nervous laugh. "Boy, I'm still shocked. I've never felt such fear in my life. What you did back there? Momon was… terrifying." His tone was light, but there was an edge of genuine unease in his voice.

Momon's armored shoulders shifted slightly, his crimson eyes glinting faintly under the shadows of his helmet. "That's how you deal with scammers," he said, his deep voice calm and unbothered, as though he hadn't just left a government worker trembling in fear.

Paimon, who had been unusually quiet since leaving the building, finally piped up, crossing her arms. "Paimon thinks that was way too scary, though! You made poor Yurika almost cry!"

Momon glanced at her briefly before responding, "People who prey on others deserve to experience fear themselves."

Thoma sighed, his normally cheerful expression dimmed by a rare moment of solemnity. "It's just… embarrassing, honestly. The self-isolation of Inazuma has made life so hard for the citizens. It's driven some of them to resort to things like scams or underhanded deals just to get by." He looked around at the crowded streets, his green eyes filled with quiet concern. "Ritou used to be livelier, more welcoming. Now, it's just a shadow of what it was before the Sakoku Decree."

"What about you?" Momon asked, his tone curious but probing. "What's your place in all this?"

"Me?!" Thoma turned to him with a laugh that sounded forced at first but quickly regained its usual warmth. He straightened up and placed a hand over his chest in mock indignation. "Ohohoho, I'm no scammer, if that's what you're asking! I'm an honest man, thank you very much."

Paimon tilted her head, floating a little closer. "Then what do you do, mister 'honest man'?"

Thoma grinned, his usual charm returning in full force. "I work for the Yashiro Commission, serving as a loyal retainer of the Kamisato Clan. I take care of things like negotiations, managing affairs for outlanders, and, well, pretty much anything Lady Ayaka or Lord Ayato needs me to handle."

"Ah, so you're a glorified errand boy," Paimon teased, a mischievous smile spreading across her face.

"Errand boy?" Thoma laughed, shaking his head. "I prefer the term 'housekeeper extraordinaire.'"

Aether chuckled softly at the exchange but looked at Thoma with growing interest. "You mentioned the Kamisato Clan. What kind of people are they?"

Thoma's expression softened, a genuine fondness shining in his eyes. "They're extraordinary, really. Lady Ayaka is as graceful as a cherry blossom, and her brother, Lord Ayato, is a sharp strategist and a kind leader. They both work tirelessly for the good of Inazuma, even in these difficult times."

"Anyway," Momon said, turning to Thoma, "I assume this place is not the main city of Inazuma?"

"You assume correctly," Thoma replied, his tone brightening. "Ritou is just a small trading estate, the first stop for most outlanders arriving in Inazuma. To reach Inazuma City, we'll need to travel deeper into Narukami Island."

"We?" Paimon asked, her head tilting as she hovered closer to Thoma. "Are you coming with us?"

Thoma grinned, his cheerful demeanor infectious. "Well, I will be returning to my master's estate soon anyway, so why not travel together for the moment? It's safer in numbers, after all."

"That's great!" Aether said, his voice carrying a note of relief. "I mean, you know Inazuma better than us, and it's always good to have a guide."

Thoma looked uneasy. He glanced at the soldiers stationed near the exit leading to the mainland, their stern faces and sharp weapons a clear reminder of the Shogun's strict enforcement.

"But there is a little problem…" Thoma hesitated, scratching the back of his head. "Outlanders aren't allowed to leave Ritou, diplomats might get a pass through. The Tenryou Commission keeps a close eye on all non-Inazuman travelers. Strict orders, you know."

"Well, that would be a problem for us," Aether said, frowning slightly as he looked toward the guarded exit of the settlement.

Paimon's wings fluttered anxiously. "Oh no! Does that mean we're stuck here? How are we supposed to continue our journey?"

Momon tilted his head slightly, his glowing red dots behind the mask flickering faintly. "I don't think so. In moments like this, magic provides solutions where bureaucracy cannot." His calm, deliberate tone caused everyone to turn to him with curiosity.

"What do you mean?" asked Thoma, eyebrows raised.

Momon raised a hand, the air around it shimmering faintly with a pale blue light. "I'll use a simple spell. [Invisibility] will allow us to pass through their blockade without any trouble."

Paimon gasped, her eyes lighting up. "Magic! Yey! It's always amazing when you pull out your tricks, hehe!" She twirled excitedly in the air. "I knew traveling with you was going to make things way cooler."

"Are you sure this will work?" Thoma asked, his tone both curious and cautious. "The guards are pretty sharp, and if we get caught—"

"Do not underestimate my magic, Thoma…" Momon said suddenly, his voice a cold, resonating tone that cut through the ambient noise like a blade.

Thoma froze mid-step, his cheerful demeanor faltering for a moment as an icy chill ran down his spine. Momon's voice carried an undeniable weight, and Thoma felt a flicker of fear like he had unknowingly stepped into dangerous territory.

"Ah, I didn't mean it like that," Thoma said quickly, raising his hands in a placating gesture. His smile was warm but tinged with nervousness. "I was just worried. Please don't take it in a bad way, haha."

Momon inclined his head slightly, his mask obscuring his expression. "It's okay," he replied, his voice losing its edge but retaining its commanding undertone. "But I don't think there's a need to use [Invisibility] on you. You can leave Ritou whenever you want."

Thoma relaxed visibly, his grin becoming more natural as he chuckled. "That's true, I guess. No need to make things more complicated than they already are."

"Yeah, and you can guide us to the other side," Paimon chimed in, floating close to Thoma. Her cheerful tone lightened the mood considerably.

As Aether listened intently to Thoma, his gaze wandered upwards, catching sight of the highest peak in the area. His eyes locked onto the familiar glow of a Statue of the Seven, its form standing tall and proud against the backdrop of the cloudy Inazuman sky.

"Uh, excuse me for a moment," Aether said suddenly, his tone polite but tinged with urgency. He pointed toward the peak. "I'd like to go check out that Statue of the Electro Archon. I'll be back very soon."

"Oh, yeah! Paimon wants to go too!" Paimon chimed in enthusiastically, hovering up beside him.

Thoma raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he nodded. "Alright, no problem. I've got a few things to take care of here anyway. Once you're done, we'll regroup and move on."

With a quick nod, Aether bolted down the cobblestone streets, moving with the agility of someone on a mission. Paimon struggled to keep up, floating as fast as her little wings would allow.

Thoma watched him go, arms crossed, a look of mild astonishment on his face. "Wow. He's quick. But I've got to ask—what's so important about that Statue of the Seven? It's not like it's going anywhere."

Momon, standing with his arms crossed, gave a low chuckle. "He has… a bit of an obsession with them," Momon replied, carefully skirting the full truth. He had no intention of revealing that the statues were vital to Aether's ability to resonate with the elements. "Besides, who wouldn't want to admire something that represents the gods?"

Thoma raised an eyebrow at Momon's enigmatic tone but decided not to press further. Instead, he glanced up again toward the statue, the figure of the Electro Archon carved in an eternal pose of power and divinity. "Huh… well, whatever it is, I guess it's his business."

Thoma left to finish whatever business he had in Rito and now Momon was alone. He had the same intention as Aether.

[Perfect Unknowabl] Momon activated his spell and was absolutely invisible to the naked eye. Momon also used [Fly] to reach the peak faster. From his new vantage point, Momon saw Aether standing before the Statue of the Electro Archon, his hand outstretched. Aether's connection with the statue was clear—the air around him hummed with the electric energy that crackled in the atmosphere. After a tense moment, a surge of electro energy enveloped Aether, and the power was absorbed into his body. The crackling surge of lightning momentarily illuminated the area, lighting up Aether's face in a blue glow.

"So cool!" Paimon exclaimed, her voice full of admiration as she floated beside Aether. "Now you have even more cool powers!"

Aether gave a wry smile, but there was caution in his eyes. "I'd like to use it right now, but if we start throwing around that kind of power, we might draw the attention of Inazuma's soldiers. It's best if we head back to Momon and lay low for now."

"Yeah!" Paimon chirped, nodding enthusiastically. She followed Aether down the hill, the pair heading back the way they came.

Momon watched them retreat for a moment, before turning his attention back to the statue. He landed with a soft thud near the base, his footsteps unheard in the quiet surroundings. His gaze was fixed on the Electro Archon's likeness, studying the statue with a deep, calculated focus.

Without wasting any more time, Momon approached the statue and placed his gloved hand against its surface. As soon as his fingers made contact, the air around him vibrated with an electric hum. A surge of electro energy rushed through him, and he felt the unmistakable force of the element trying to merge with his body.

Unlike Aether, who had likely felt the energy coursing through him, Momon's reaction was far different. His skeletal body, shielded by layers of enchanted armor, remained unaffected by the crackling power. He felt nothing—his undead form was immune to such sensations. Still, he watched with a clinical gaze as arcs of lightning leaped across his gloved hand, wrapping around his fingers like living tendrils of power.

The energy flickered in the air around him, swirling with an intensity that Momon could appreciate. This is weak compared to YGGDRASIL's Tier Magic, he thought with a hint of disdain. But it will suffice. I'll make it work. Despite his initial judgment, Momon knew that this power, though primitive, could be harnessed to suit his needs.

He flexed his hand, and the lightning danced across his fingers in response. The power, now fully absorbed, felt like a tool—a weapon in his ever-expanding arsenal. He could feel its potential, its rawness, waiting to be shaped. His skeletal form beneath the armor was immune to the effects, but he could already sense how to wield this power with precision and control.

Momon glanced once more at the statue as if acknowledging the Electro Archon in some silent way. Then, with a final, thoughtful look at his hand, he vanished into the shadows, his form becoming invisible once more as he moved swiftly through the quiet.

A tall man stood in a grand chamber illuminated by the warm, flickering light of countless candles. The room's vastness was exaggerated by its vaulted ceiling, the shadows of intricate carvings on the walls stretching like grasping hands. Ornate furnishings adorned the space, but the most striking centerpiece was the enormous map of Teyvat spread across a massive table. It dominated the room, its borders meticulously etched, each nation represented with careful detail.

The man's imposing figure loomed over the map, his half-masked face partially concealed by a polished piece of silver, leaving only one piercing blue eye visible. That eye, sharp and unyielding, scanned the continent's intricate details as if calculating every potential move on a massive chessboard.

"Five hundred years…" his thoughts echoed, heavy with resolve. "Five hundred years of chaos, suffering, and false gods. Soon, we will bring absolute peace to this world, in the name of her Royal Majesty, the Tsaritsa."

Nearby, a chessboard rested atop a finely carved pedestal. Pierro extended a gloved hand, moving the Queen piece deliberately across the board, knocking over the opposing King. The sound of the piece falling onto the marble surface echoed in the quiet chamber, a symbolic gesture of the Cryo Archon's inevitable victory over Celestia.

As if on cue, a knock at the door broke the silence.

"Come in," Pierro said, his deep voice calm but carrying an undertone of authority.

The heavy door creaked open, revealing a Fatui Agent. Dressed in a dark, regulation uniform, the man stepped inside but kept his distance, bowing deeply. The atmosphere was tense, the flickering candlelight casting long, wavering shadows across the room.

"Speak," Pierro commanded without turning his gaze from the chessboard.

The agent straightened but kept his eyes lowered in deference. "Lord Pierro… I bring dire news." He hesitated as if weighing the gravity of his words. "Our troops stationed in Mondstadt have been annihilated."

At this, Pierro finally turned. His tall frame and masked visage exuded an air of quiet menace. His eye narrowed, the lines of his face deepening as his expression hardened. "The cause of this… calamity?"

The agent stepped forward cautiously, producing a rolled parchment. With a slight bow, he presented it to Pierro. "We believe this individual is responsible," the agent said, his voice steady despite the palpable tension.

Pierro took the parchment and unrolled it slowly. The drawn image depicted a towering figure clad in a hooded, gothic cloak, with ominous armor visible beneath. The face was obscured by a mask, adding to the figure's intimidating presence.

Pierro studied the image intently, his eye betraying a flicker of recognition. "Rosalyne…" he muttered under his breath. His thoughts turned to the Harbinger known as Signora, whose fiery temper and unyielding ambition had led her to voice grave concerns about this individual. She had spoken of him only once but with a single, chilling word: "Monster."

"This is the one called Momon," Pierro said aloud, his tone measured but firm. The weight of his words filled the room, a mixture of acknowledgment and forewarning.

The agent nodded solemnly. "Yes, my lord," the agent began, his voice tinged with unease. "The Fatui troops stationed in Dragonspine have gone silent. We have yet to hear from them, despite repeated attempts to establish contact."

Pierro's eye narrowed as he leaned slightly closer, the flickering candlelight catching the edge of his mask. "And the reinforcements?"

The agent hesitated before continuing, his tone heavy with apprehension. "The reinforcements we sent to investigate… they, too, have not returned. Reports are nonexistent—no messages, no signs of conflict, no survivors."

A cold silence filled the room, the only sound being the faint crackling of the candles. Pierro turned fully toward the agent, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the room. "You mean to tell me that two entire Fatui units have vanished in Dragonspine?"

"Yes, my lord," the agent said, his voice wavering slightly despite his efforts to maintain composure. "Word has spread among the remaining troops, and now… they refuse to set foot in the region. Fear has taken hold of them."

Pierro's expression darkened further. "And the cause of this fear?"

The agent swallowed hard, then pressed on. "Because of the Acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius and her decision to relinquish focus on Dragonspine, the region has become the domain of a single individual. The troops whisper that Dragonspine, the Old Mondstadt… now belongs to the Honorary Knight, Momon."

Pierro's eye gleamed with intrigue as he stepped forward, his towering presence looming over the agent. He reached for the parchment on the table, the drawn image of Momon still visible under the candlelight. "So, he claims Dragonspine as his own." His voice was low, calculating.

"Yes, my lord," the agent confirmed, a bead of sweat forming on his brow.

Pierro placed the parchment on the map table, his gaze shifting to Mondstadt's borders. His expression darkened, and the faintest trace of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Then she is not mistaken. A creature capable of such devastation cannot be ignored. But we must tread carefully—his appearance in Mondstadt is no coincidence. If he opposes us, then we will ensure he understands the cost of defying the Tsaritsa's will."

Pierro turned back to the chessboard, placing the fallen King upright once more. He lingered for a moment before moving another piece—a Rook this time, representing the Fatui's next calculated move.

"Send word to the Harbingers," Pierro instructed, his voice cold and decisive. "We will observe him closely, but if Momon interferes with our plans, there will be no hesitation. Mondstadt was but the first move. The game has only begun."

The agent bowed deeply again. "As you command, Lord Pierro."

As the agent departed, Pierro returned his focus to the chessboard. He moved the Queen forward, taking another piece as he murmured to himself, "A monster who walks among gods and mortals alike… Momon, your ambitions will bring you into our fold—or your annihilation will serve as a warning to all who oppose the Fatui."

With a final glance at the map, Pierro turned to the distant horizon visible through the chamber's arched window. The cold winds of Snezhnaya howled faintly in the distance, carrying with them the unshakable resolve of the Cryo Archon's will.

This conversation was before the battle with Osial.

Chapter Text

Thoma strode toward the only path leading out of Ritou, his gait relaxed yet purposeful. The bustling port town was alive with the usual hum of merchants and sailors, but the atmosphere was tinged with the ever-looming tension of the Vision Hunt Decree.

Two guards flanked the exit, their sharp eyes scanning for any outlander foolish enough to defy the shogunate's orders. They noticed Thoma approaching, his tall figure and warm demeanor standing out amidst the crowd. Despite his cheerful expression, their faces remained cold.

"Hey there, fellas!" Thoma greeted them as he neared them, his voice bright and friendly. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

One of the guards scoffed, exchanging a sly glance with his companion. "Well, look who it is," he sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. "The Kamisato Clan's loyal little lapdog. Bet you fetch real well, don't you, Thoma?"

The second guard chuckled darkly, crossing his arms. "Yeah, it must be nice being a pet for the big shots. Get all the scraps, huh?"

Thoma's smile didn't falter, though the glint in his eyes hinted at a deeper resilience. "Now, now," he replied with an easy laugh, "no need for all that. Just doing my job, same as you guys."

He stepped past them, his height making the guards seem almost insignificant in comparison. One of them called out after him, his voice laced with malice. "Still holding onto that Vision of yours, I see. Doesn't matter how long you hide behind the Kamisato Clan—soon enough, even they won't be able to shield you. And when the Vision Hunt Decree comes for you, I'll be the one to confiscate it."

Thoma paused briefly, turning his head just enough to meet the guard's gaze. His expression remained calm, almost disarmingly so. "Well, that's your job, isn't it?" he replied lightly, his tone devoid of animosity. "I'll be sure to wish you luck when that day comes."

The guard's jaw tightened, his fingers curling into a fist as Thoma resumed his stride. He spat on the ground in frustration, watching the tall blonde disappear down the path. "Cocky bastard," he muttered under his breath.

The second guard shook his head. "Doesn't matter. The Vision Hunt Decree will catch up to him soon enough. Let's see how cheerful he is then."

Thoma stepped off the narrow land bridge that connected Ritou to the main expanse of Narukami Island. The horizon was painted in hues of deep orange and purple, signaling the onset of dusk. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of salt from the sea, and the soft hum of cicadas created a soothing backdrop.

Behind him, Aether, Paimon, and Momon walked in silence. As soon as Thoma reached the other side, Momon waved a hand and deactivated the invisible spell surrounding them. Aether and Paimon reappeared with a faint shimmer, their forms solidifying once again.

"Well, guys," Thoma began, his voice carrying a welcoming warmth, "we made it. From here, this road will take us to Konda Village. It's getting late, though, so we should probably find a place to rest for the night. We can rent a house there—no need to rough it out in the open."

"Sounds like a plan," Momon said, his tone neutral but approving.

"Yeah, I could use a cozy place to relax!" Paimon chimed in cheerfully, floating beside Aether.

As they began walking along the dirt road, Aether broke the silence. "Hey, Thoma, about those guards back in Ritou…" he said hesitantly, glancing at the tall blonde.

"Yeah!" Paimon interjected, floating up to Thoma's shoulder. Her tiny fists were clenched, and her face was scrunched in indignation. "They were so mean to you! Calling you a lapdog and stuff—it's just not fair!".

Thoma let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Don't worry about it, guys. I'm used to it. It's not the first time I've dealt with that kind of treatment, and it probably won't be the last."

"But still," Aether said, frowning, "it's not right. You've done nothing to deserve that kind of hostility."

Thoma's expression grew thoughtful, though his smile remained. "Maybe not," he admitted, "but people fear what they don't understand. Being an outlander with a Vision puts a target on my back, especially with the Vision Hunt Decree in full swing. I can't let their words get to me, though—there's too much at stake."

Momon, who had been silent up to this point, spoke in his deep, measured voice. "What will you do if the authorities come for your Vision? Will you surrender it to avoid conflict?"

Thoma slowed his steps, his gaze falling to the ground as he considered the question. The fading sunlight cast long shadows across his face, highlighting the seriousness of his expression.

"I don't know," he admitted quietly. "I've seen what happens to people when they lose their Visions. Some are never the same—they lose their drive, their sense of purpose. Others… they seem fine, but you can tell something's missing like a piece of their soul is gone. I honestly don't know what would happen to me if it came to that."

"That's so scary—and sad!" Paimon said, her voice trembling slightly. "How can anyone stay the same after losing something so important?"

"Well," Thoma said, clapping his hands together, "let's not dwell on it. The road to Konda Village isn't too long, and if we hurry, we might catch someone still awake to rent us a place for the night. Come on, I'll lead the way."

The group finally reached the entrance of Konda Village, a modest settlement nestled amid the rolling hills of Narukami Island. The village was encircled by low stone walls that seemed less like barriers and more like remnants of old foundations. Lanterns flickered faintly, casting long, wavering shadows over the dirt paths.

But something was off. The faint sound of screams and cries carried through the cool evening air, breaking the usual tranquility of the countryside.

"Trouble again, I guess," Aether muttered, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his sword.

"At this point, 'trouble' and 'us' are basically the same thing!" Paimon huffed, crossing her arms and floating closer to Aether.

Thoma's expression darkened, his earlier cheerfulness replaced by grim determination. "Let's not waste time. We need to see what's happening."

The group broke into a run, their footsteps crunching against the dirt road as they made their way toward the center of the village.

When they arrived, a distressing scene greeted them. The villagers were all gathered in the open square, forced to kneel on the ground with their hands behind their heads. Fear was etched into their faces, and some clung to each other, trembling. Surrounding them was a group of armed Nobushi—wandering swordsmen who had abandoned honor and fallen into banditry.

Leading the group of bandits was a hulking Kairagi, his imposing figure silhouetted against the warm glow of the village lanterns. His crimson armor, though battered, reflected the light like fresh blood. Resting on his shoulder was a massive katana, its blade gleaming ominously in the dim light.

The village chief, an elderly man with a hunched back and a shaking frame, knelt at the forefront of the hostages. His voice quivered as he pleaded for mercy. "P-please… we have nothing of value. The Sakoku Decree has made trade impossible. Isolation has already left us struggling to survive!"

"Lies!" snarled one of the Nobushi, a wiry man with a cruel glint in his eyes. He stepped forward and aimed a sharp kick at a nearby clay pot, smashing it to pieces. "You're hiding something. Everyone always has something to give. So where are the goods, old man?!"

"We have no hidden goods, I swear it!" the chief begged, bowing his head so low it nearly touched the ground.

The Kairagi leader growled, his deep voice reverberating like distant thunder. "If you don't talk, we'll rip this place apart until we find what we're looking for." He swung his massive katana lazily, the blade slicing through the air with a menacing hum. "Maybe we start with your homes. Or…" His gaze drifted to a young woman among the villagers, her wide eyes brimming with tears. "...something more precious."

"No! Please, don't do this!" the chief cried, his voice cracking under the weight of his desperation.

"Quiet!" barked another bandit, striking the chief with the hilt of his blade. The old man crumpled to the ground with a groan, clutching his side.

From the shadows at the edge of the square, Aether clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. "This is horrible," he whispered, his voice filled with restrained anger.

Paimon's eyes were wide with shock, but her resolve hardened. "We've got to stop them, Aether! We can't just stand here!"

"Stop this madness!" Thoma's voice rang out, firm and resolute as he stepped into the square, drawing the attention of the bandits.

The Nobushi turned sharply, their gazes locking onto the newcomers. At first, they appeared surprised, but their expressions quickly twisted into mockery and disdain.

"Hah! Would you look at that?" sneered one of the bandits, a wiry man with a scar running down his cheek. He gestured with his blade toward Thoma. "The Kamisato Clan's little lapdog has decided to bark at us."

Another Ronin chuckled, his yellowed teeth glinting in the lantern light. "And what's this? Outlanders." He scanned Aether and Momon with greedy eyes before his lips curled into a sinister grin. "Bet they're loaded with Mora. Adventurers always are."

The towering Kairagi leader, who had been leaning lazily on his massive katana, now straightened to his full height. His presence was oppressive, like a storm cloud ready to break. "If you value your lives," he growled, his deep voice a rumble of thunder, "hand over every last Mora you've got. And maybe… just maybe… I'll spare the villagers."

Momon took a deliberate step forward, the ground seeming to vibrate faintly beneath his armored boots. His crimson gaze locked onto the Kairagi, unyielding and ice-cold. "Thoma, you can fight, can't you?" he asked, his tone as calm as if discussing the weather.

Thoma glanced at Momon, his usual cheerful demeanor replaced with a quiet determination. "Of course I can," he replied, reaching behind him. In a flash of light, a spear appeared in his hand as if summoned from nowhere. He twirled it expertly before settling into a ready stance.

"Good." Momon's voice dropped, heavy with authority. "You and Aether handle the smaller trash. That oversized brute is mine." He tilted his head slightly, the crimson glows beneath his mask flaring momentarily.

Aether gave a sharp nod, drawing his sword. "Got it. Let's take them down quickly."

"Yeah, let's teach these jerks a lesson!" Paimon chimed in, hovering near Aether, her fists clenched in determination.

The bandits exchanged uncertain glances, the air shifting as the group's confidence became palpable. But the Kairagi barked a harsh laugh, dispelling their momentary hesitation.

"Hah! Bold words for a handful of fools," the Kairagi sneered, gripping his katana with both hands. The blade's edge gleamed dangerously in the firelight as he pointed it toward Momon. "Come then, let's see if your bark is louder than your bite!"

Aether sprinted into the fray, his boots kicking up dust as he closed in on the nearest Nobushi. The bandit turned with a sneer, drawing his katana in one fluid motion. Their blades met with a sharp clang, sparks flying as steel collided.

The Nobushi's grin widened as he leaned into the clash, trying to overpower Aether. "Punk, when I'm done with you, I'm taking that braid of yours as a trophy!"

Aether smirked, unfazed by the threat. "How about you focus on the fight instead of daydreaming?" With a sharp pivot, Aether drove his elbow into the Nobushi's jaw with a sickening crack.

"Phu~!" The Nobushi staggered back, spitting blood and a tooth onto the ground. His free hand wiped his mouth as he glared at Aether with murderous intent. "You're dead, you little—"

Before he could finish, the Nobushi reached into his sash and yanked out a compact crossbow, firing it at point-blank range.

The arrow zipped toward Aether—but stopped mere inches from his face, disintegrating in a burst of flame against a shimmering barrier.

"I've got your back, bro!" Thoma called, his Vision glowing as a protective fire shield enveloped both of them. The flames danced around them, crackling with energy as they deflected the incoming attack.

Aether glanced over his shoulder, a brief look of gratitude flashing across his face. "Thanks, Thoma. That was close."

Thoma grinned, spinning his polearm into a ready stance. "Don't mention it."

Thoma stood firm, his spear at the ready as three Nobushi circled him like wolves stalking their prey. Despite their numbers, he grinned, his demeanor as calm as ever. "Now, now, guys," he said, twirling his spear with practiced ease. "I wouldn't get too close if I were you. You might get burned."

The Nobushi exchanged glances, their confidence bolstered by their advantage in numbers. With a roar, they attacked in unison, their katanas slicing through the air toward Thoma.

Clang!

Thoma's spear intercepted all three blades in a single sweeping motion. Sparks flew as metal clashed against metal, the impact sending vibrations up his arms. "Oh, come on," he quipped, his voice steady despite the strain. "Is that really the best you've got?"

Before the Nobushi could press their attack further, a sharp voice rang out. "Thoma, duck!"

Without hesitation, Thoma crouched low, his instincts trusting Aether's command.

"Lightning Blade!" Aether shouted, his sword glowing with crackling electro energy. With a powerful swing, three arcs of thunderous lightning shot forth, streaking through the air like vengeful shadows.

The arcs struck the Nobushi in rapid succession, each one collapsing to the ground in a smoking heap. The smell of singed cloth and ozone filled the air as the bandits groaned in defeat.

Thoma stood and dusted himself off, giving Aether an impressed look. "Well, that was flashy," he said, resting his spear against his shoulder. "Didn't even leave one for me."

Aether chuckled, the faint glow of his electro powers fading from his sword. "I figured you could use a hand. Those three were getting a bit too friendly."

Thoma grinned, shaking his head. "I could've handled it, but I appreciate the backup. Teamwork makes the dream work, right?"

"Exactly," Aether replied, offering a quick fist bump, which Thoma returned.

Thoma and Aether continued to clash against the remaining Nobushi, their teamwork honed to perfection. Aether's sword danced in the moonlight, dispatching foes with swift precision, while Thoma's polearm parried and countered every strike aimed his way. Together, they fought like a well-oiled machine, gradually overwhelming their opponents.

Meanwhile, a more daunting confrontation was about to unfold.

Momon and the Kairagi stood several paces apart, their standoff illuminated by the pale glow of the moon. The air between them seemed to vibrate with tension. The Kairagi's fire aura flared to life, engulfing his armor and blade in a menacing glow of crimson flames. The heat warped the air around him, casting shifting shadows on the trees.

The skeletal visage beneath Momon's mask remained emotionless, his empty eye sockets fixed on his opponent. Despite the Kairagi's dramatic display, Momon's towering, armored form was eerily still.

The Kairagi let out a guttural laugh, his voice echoing with confidence. "Prepare yourself, you miserable wretch! My blade will cut you down, and your mask will adorn my collection!"

Momon tilted his head slightly, the faintest movement, as though considering the threat. "Bold words for someone so weak." His voice was cold and emotionless, a sharp contrast to the fiery rage of his opponent.

Enraged by the insult, the Kairagi let out a furious roar. "I'll cut you to pieces!" With a burst of explosive speed, he launched himself forward, the ground beneath him cracking under the force. His blade, alight with flames, cleaved through the air toward Momon with deadly intent.

Thoma and Aether paused mid-battle, their eyes darting toward the clash. "Momon—" Thoma started, but his voice trailed off as the scene unfolded.

In a move almost too fast to follow, Momon raised his hand and caught the incoming blade with two fingers. The impact sent a gust of wind rippling outward, extinguishing nearby torches and momentarily silencing the battlefield.

The Kairagi's eyes widened in disbelief, visible even through the slits of his mask. "Impossible! How could you—"

"Stop your struggling," Momon interrupted, his voice colder than the mountain peaks of Dragonspine. "Your strength is laughable."

With a flick of his fingers, the Kairagi's blade shattered, molten fragments scattering across the ground. The bandit stumbled backward, clutching at his now-useless weapon. Before he could recover, Momon moved.

The dark armored figure blurred, his black cloak billowing like a shadow in the night. In the span of a heartbeat, the Kairagi's right arm was severed, the blade too fast for mortal eyes to follow.

The samurai froze, his mouth agape as he looked down at the stump where his arm had been. But before he could scream, Momon's greatsword materialized in his other hand. In a single, graceful swing, the Kairagi's head was severed clean from his body, soaring into the air before landing with a dull thud on the scorched earth.

A stunned silence fell over the battlefield.

The remaining Nobushi froze in place, their weapons trembling in their hands. Thoma lowered his polearm, unable to process what he had just witnessed.

"How… When… What just happened?" one of the Nobushi stammered, his voice barely audible.

Momon turned his empty gaze toward the surviving bandits, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "Leave, or join him."

That was all it took.

"R-Run!" one of the Nobushi screamed, dropping his weapon. The others didn't need to be told twice. They turned and fled into the night, stumbling over themselves in their haste to escape the nightmare they had awakened.

Thoma let out a low whistle, finally snapping out of his shock. "Well… that's one way to deal with them."

Aether exhaled, his grip on his sword relaxing. "That was… something."

Paimon, who had been hiding behind Aether, peeked out. "Momon! That was both scary and incredible! You didn't even break a sweat!"

Momon turned his hollow gaze toward Paimon, "Break a sweat?" he echoed, his tone almost disdainful. "There is no way I'd get serious for low-level trash like that."

Paimon blinked, her wings fluttering nervously as she processed his words. "Uhh… Paimon was just saying! I mean, that was still super impressive! You didn't even flinch!"

Thoma chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck as he glanced between Paimon and Momon. "Well, you sure have a way with words, huh?"

Aether sighed, sheathing his blade. "Let's not argue over how easy it was. The important thing is that the village is safe now."

The villagers of Konda Village were still shaken. The earlier skirmish with the Nobushi bandits had left them shaken. Though the immediate threat had passed, fear lingered in their eyes, their gazes darting toward the forest as if expecting the bandits to return.

When they saw Thoma approaching from the outskirts, their expressions shifted. Relief swept through the crowd like a gentle breeze. They recognized Thoma immediately—his bright, reassuring demeanor and reputation as a dependable ally were well-known across Inazuma.

"Thoma!" the village chief called out, stepping forward with a grateful smile. "You've come to our aid once again."

Thoma raised a hand in greeting, his usual kind smile on his face. "Is anyone hurt? Did the Nobushi harm anyone before we arrived?"

The chief shook his head. "No, thanks to you and your friends. The Nobushi might have killed us by now if you hadn't interfered. We owe you our lives."

The villagers murmured their agreement, their eyes now shifting to Aether and Paimon. It was clear they recognized the two as outlanders, like Thoma. Aether's calm demeanor and the small, floating Paimon were curiosities, but ones the villagers welcomed as friends after seeing their bravery in battle.

Then their eyes fell on Momon.

His towering, dark figure emerged from the shadows like a phantom. The long, gothic hooded cloak he wore seemed to drink in the moonlight, making his presence even more imposing. His strange dark mask caught the faint glow of a lantern, and the intricate, blackened armor beneath gave him an air of foreboding. To the villagers, he looked less like a warrior and more like a grim reaper who had stepped out from the depths of the unknown.

The crowd grew quiet, unsure of what to make of him. A few children hid behind their parents, clutching their sleeves. Even the chief hesitated for a moment.

Then Momon spoke.

"Hope you people are alright."

His voice was deep but refined, resonating with a noble quality that carried authority and assurance. The villagers froze, their apprehension slowly giving way to a strange sense of calm. Despite his fearsome appearance, his words held no malice—only concern.

The village chief was the first to bow deeply. "Thank you, sir! Your assistance was invaluable. We might not be here if not for your intervention."

The rest of the villagers quickly followed suit, bowing their heads in gratitude.

"We will do our best to repay this noble act," the chief continued, his voice trembling with sincerity.

Momon's skeletal face remained hidden beneath his hood, but his tone was resolute. "There is no need for repayment. Your safety is thanks enough. However, we do require a place to rest for the night."

Aether stepped forward, sensing the villagers' lingering unease. "If it's not too much trouble, we'd like to rent a house for the evening. We don't wish to impose."

"Of course! Of course!" the chief said quickly, straightening up. "You are all welcome here. Konda Village may be small, but our hospitality is sincere. Please, allow us to prepare a place for you."

Thoma placed a hand on the chief's shoulder, his warm smile putting everyone at ease. "Thank you, Chief. And don't worry about us—we're just glad we could help."

The group had settled into the modest house provided by the village chief. Despite the chief's insistence on waiving payment, the group had pressed a pouch of Mora into his hands, refusing to take no for an answer. Gratitude and hospitality radiated from the villagers, but the group's exhaustion was undeniable.

Now, three hours later, the house was steeped in a tranquil silence, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fireplace in the common room. Thoma had long retired to a separate room, and Paimon, after her usual complaints about how uncomfortable the situation was compared to a luxurious inn, had fallen asleep next to Aether, curled up on a makeshift bed.

Aether remained awake, seated cross-legged on a simple rug, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames. Across from him stood Momon, his imposing frame cloaked in shadow, the firelight casting dancing patterns across his dark armor.

"You should go to sleep too, Aether," Momon's deep voice rumbled softly, breaking the silence.

Aether shook his head. "It's okay. I don't feel like sleeping right now," he replied, his eyes briefly flicking to Momon's mask. That mask—it was always there, concealing whatever lay beneath. Since they had met back in Mondstadt, Aether had never once seen what Momon looked like. The thought stirred both curiosity and unease within him.

"Momon…" Aether called out tentatively.

Momon's head lifted slowly, the crimson dots within the mask's eyeholes flaring brighter, as if awakened by the call. They burned like embers in the dark, locking onto Aether with an intensity that made him momentarily hesitate.

"Yes?" Momon's tone was calm, almost disarmingly so.

"How did you get so strong?" Aether finally asked, though deep down, he knew this wasn't the question he truly wanted to ask. He had wanted to ask about the mask, about what lay beneath it, but he couldn't bring himself to voice it. Something about Momon's presence—his aura—commanded respect and, if Aether was honest, fear.

Momon tilted his head slightly as if amused by the question. "How did I become strong? By fighting and killing, of course," he answered, his voice devoid of arrogance, stating the fact as plainly as one might recount a mundane task.

Aether frowned, his hands resting on his knees. "I kind of figured that out," he said, his tone lighter to mask the unease in his chest. "I mean, I've already seen you terrorize enemies. It's… well, it's something else."

Momon chuckled faintly, the sound deep and hollow, reverberating in the quiet room. "Terror, you say? I suppose that's accurate. Fear is a powerful weapon, Aether. In many cases, it ends battles before they even begin."

Aether clenched his fists, his mind flashing to his own struggles and the battles he'd fought. "But... does it ever bother you?" he asked hesitantly. "The things you've done to gain that strength—the lives you've taken?"

"Not at all," Momon said, his voice calm yet firm, the flickering firelight reflecting faintly off his dark mask. "If I hadn't killed to become stronger, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

Aether glanced at him, his golden eyes shadowed by the dim light. "I see," he murmured. "It's hard to imagine you ever being weak."

Momon's posture shifted slightly, and for a moment, the faintest trace of nostalgia laced his tone. "Well, it's all thanks to this guy," he said, lifting his hand. A swirling, dark portal materialized midair, rippling like a liquid shadow. He reached into it effortlessly and pulled out a picture, its edges crisp and pristine as though it had been preserved in time.

Curiosity flashed across Aether's face as Momon handed him the photograph. The moment Aether's eyes fell on it, they widened in awe. "Wow…" he breathed, the word barely audible.

The image depicted a warrior unlike any Aether had ever seen. Towering and majestic, the figure was clad in a suit of radiant platinum-white armor that seemed to shimmer with an almost ethereal glow. Every piece of the armor was crafted with precision, the details intricate and sharp. A crimson-red cape trimmed with gold accents draped regally from the warrior's left shoulder, fluttering slightly as though alive. The entire figure exuded an overwhelming aura of strength, purity, and unwavering justice.

"What do you think?" Momon asked, his tone carrying a faint, almost imperceptible hint of pride.

Aether took a moment to gather his thoughts. "He looks… incredible. Like, beyond words," Aether said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "That armor, the cape—it's like something out of a legend. He looks like the embodiment of everything a knight should be. Justice, strength, honor… all of it."

Momon inclined his head slightly, the crimson glow of his eyes softening for a brief moment. "I'm glad to hear such praise about him. He truly was remarkable."

Aether shifted his gaze from the picture to Momon. "Who is he?"

"His name is Touch Me," Momon replied, his voice carrying a warmth rarely heard. "He was my first true friend—the one who helped me when I was at my lowest when I was nothing but a shadow of myself. Without him, I wouldn't be who I am today."

Aether blinked, taking in the gravity of Momon's words. "He sounds like an amazing person," he said softly, still holding the picture reverently.

"He was," Momon said, his tone turning wistful. "Touch Me wasn't just strong; he was righteous. A paragon of virtue. He believed in protecting the weak, and in standing against evil no matter the cost. And he extended that belief to me, even when I was at my most unworthy."

Aether glanced back at the picture, the light of the fire dancing across the glossy surface. "It's hard to imagine you ever being unworthy," he admitted.

Momon chuckled faintly, a sound that seemed both genuine and hollow. "We all start somewhere, Aether. For me, it was in the darkness. And it was his light that helped guide me out of it."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air. Aether handed the picture back to Momon, who placed it gently into the swirling portal, which vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.

"Thank you for sharing that with me," Aether said earnestly.

Momon inclined his head again. "Sometimes, it's good to remember the light, even in the darkest of nights," he said, turning his gaze back to the flickering fire.

Aether remained quiet, his thoughts swirling as he processed everything. At that moment, the mysterious and imposing figure of Momon seemed less like an enigma and more like someone who had once walked a path not so different from his own—a path shaped by pain, redemption, and the bonds of true friendship.

"You know," Momon began, his tone taking on a faint hint of nostalgia, "it's funny when I think about it now. When we became a clan, Touch Me had so many rivals—both within and outside our ranks. But his greatest rival wasn't just a competitor. He was also one of my closest friends."

Aether's eyes widened, his curiosity piqued. "Really? Who was it?" he asked, leaning closer to catch every word.

"His name was Ulbert Alain Odle," Momon's mask tilted slightly, as though he were smiling beneath it. "If Touch Me was a shining Holy Paladin of Justice, then Ulbert… he was the complete opposite—an absolute evil Demon God of Disaster."

Aether blinked, his jaw slack with disbelief. "Wait… a Demon God? In the same clan as a Holy Paladin? How does that even work?"

Momon chuckled softly, the sound low and resonant. "It wasn't easy, I can assure you," he replied. "Their ideals clashed constantly. Touch Me believed in protecting the innocent, upholding justice, and all the lofty ideals you'd expect from a knight like him. Ulbert, on the other hand, thrived on chaos and destruction. He saw the world as a stage for his own ambitions."

"And yet, they were both in the same clan?" Aether asked, incredulous.

Momon nodded. "That's why I was chosen as the clan leader," he explained. "I had a unique ability to connect with everyone, no matter how different or contradictory their personalities and beliefs were. I became the glue that held the clan together, even through the fiercest of storms."

Aether leaned back slightly, his admiration for Momon growing. "No wonder you're so wise and such a brilliant strategist," he said. "But… were all of you like this? Non-human, I mean?"

"That's right. Human clans, Elf clans, Demihuman clans, and Angel clans hunted us. That's actually the reason why the clan was formed in the first place. To fight back." said Momon.

The mention of "Angels" sent a shiver down Aether's spine. He straightened, his thoughts racing. "Angels?" he repeated, his voice a mix of awe and unease. "You mean… beings of light? They hunted you too?"

"Justice is good and all, but when you are blinded by it…" He paused, his skeletal hand tightening into a loose fist, the shadows around him seeming to deepen as if drawn to his unspoken thoughts. "That's when these so-called angels and warriors of justice fall into the grey territory."

Aether's golden gaze flickered with curiosity and concern. "The grey territory?" he asked, his voice tentative but eager for more.

Momon nodded slowly. "Yes," he said, his tone dripping with disdain. "They cloak themselves in righteousness, brandishing their swords in the name of 'justice.' But when their cause becomes all-consuming—when they start believing that the ends always justify the means—they lose sight of what justice actually is. That's when they start using that famous sentence…"

His voice dropped an octave, a cold mockery slipping into his tone. "'For the greater good.'" He spat the words like venom, his armored hand gesturing as if to dismiss the very notion. "That bullshit. The rallying cry of those who believe their actions, no matter how horrific, are somehow justified because they think they're on the right side of history."

Aether nodded slowly, thinking of the conflicts he'd witnessed, the betrayals cloaked in righteousness. "It's like… they convince themselves that as long as the goal is noble, the means don't matter."

"Exactly," Momon replied, his tone darkening. "That's where the danger lies. Justice, unchecked, becomes its own kind of tyranny. And when they look in the mirror, they don't see the blood on their hands. They only see their 'noble cause."

"But what about you, Momon?" Aether finally broke the silence, his voice low but steady. "I don't see you as a person of justice, even though you've shown it more times than I can count. So...what drives you?"

Momon tilted his head slightly as if considering the weight of the question. His voice, deep and unwavering, carried an edge of detachment that made Aether tense despite the warmth of the room.

"That's because I am not a being of justice," Momon said, his words precise, each syllable calculated. "I am a cold being, devoid of emotions, remorse, sympathy...or compunction. That's the truth of what I am, Aether. You can take it however you want, but my nature is what it is."

Aether studied him, trying to read what little could be gleaned from the mask's inscrutable surface. Despite the calm and candid delivery, there was something chilling in Momon's tone—a finality that hinted at the truth behind the mask. Aether's imagination ran wild, conjuring images of a terrifying creature lurking beneath, one that carried out its actions without a shred of hesitation.

Aether nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. Despite the unsettling revelation, there was something oddly reassuring about Momon's honesty. "I see," Aether said at last. His voice was quiet, almost tentative. "I… I can't say I fully understand, but I respect your openness. Thank you for sharing that with me."

Momon inclined his head faintly, his gaze fixed on the fire. The flames reflected in the dark voids of his mask, giving him an almost otherworldly appearance. "It was...an interesting conversation," he replied. Though his words were neutral, there was a faint hint of sincerity buried beneath his cold exterior, detectable only if one listened closely.

Aether stood, cradling Paimon carefully in his arms. She mumbled something unintelligible, her tiny wings fluttering slightly before she nestled deeper into the blankets. A small smile tugged at Aether's lips as he glanced at Momon one last time.

"Well, I'd better put Paimon to bed," Aether said softly. "Goodnight, Momon."

Momon turned his head slightly, the red glow of his mask seeming to soften. "Good night, Aether. And to her as well."

With a nod, Aether carried Paimon toward the small bedroom they had been offered, his footsteps soft against the wooden floor. He paused briefly at the doorway and glanced back. Momon was still standing by the fireplace, his towering form silhouetted against the flickering flames.

As Aether disappeared into the room, Momon remained motionless, his gaze fixed on the fire. The warm light reflected off his dark armor, the soft crackling of the flames the only sound in the room. "Good night, indeed," he murmured to himself, the faintest hint of something—perhaps amusement or reflection—hidden in his tone. He stayed there, staring into the fire, lost in thoughts known only to him.

Chapter Text

One hour had passed since Aether had taken Paimon to bed, leaving Momon alone with his thoughts. The silence was heavy, but Momon welcomed it, letting his mind wander as he stared into the dancing flames.

"Man…" he muttered under his breath, his voice a low growl that barely reached his own ears. "I probably shouldn't have been so open with him about the past. Eighty percent of what I told him was a lie."

A dry chuckle escaped him, though it lacked humor. Momon wasn't what he claimed to be—a millennia-old undead overlord, forged in the crucible of endless strife and darkness. The truth was far more mundane, even pathetic by his own admission.

He was a YGGDRASIL player—a salaryman from a dystopian Japan in the year 2138. The memories of his old life flashed briefly in his mind: the oppressive gray skies of a world dominated by megacorporations, the suffocating routine of his daily grind, and the fleeting moments of joy he'd found in the virtual paradise of YGGDRASIL.

For twelve years, that game had been his escape, his solace. In its vibrant and limitless world, he had forged bonds with companions who felt like family, carving out a life as Momon, his powerful and mysterious avatar. And now, fate had given him the ultimate gift.

"Living in Teyvat… as my avatar…" he murmured, his voice tinged with wonder. "It's like the world itself decided to reward me. I'm no longer bound by that hollow existence. Here… I'm someone extraordinary."

He clenched a gloved hand into a fist, watching the light from the fire reflect off the polished surface of his gauntlet. His human life, his past as a lonely salaryman—it felt like a distant memory, one he was determined to bury forever. He wasn't that man anymore. He was Momon, the Overlord of YGGDRASIL, a figure whose lore and legend were entirely his to shape.

"So, when Aether eventually asks for the 'truth'—and he will, out of that unyielding curiosity of his—'" he said softly, his tone growing colder, "I'll give him the truth I've chosen. I'll tell him about YGGDRASIL, about Helheim, and the endless wars of that world. That's who I am now. That's all that matters."

Yet, despite his resolve, a pang of unease stirred within him. He sighed, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.

"Still… it feels so lame to lie," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "But at least about my undead self and YGGDRASIL… that part's actually true."

His mask tilted upward, his gaze lingering on the darkened ceiling. The faint sound of the wind brushing against the house broke the silence for a moment.

"It doesn't matter," he said after a pause, his voice firm once more. "The past is dead, just like the man I used to be. This world is mine now, and I'll make my story here, in Teyvat."

The soft crackling of the fire filled the otherwise silent room as Momon stood lost in his thoughts. The weight of his fabricated truths and carefully constructed persona lingered in his mind like a shadow. But his reverie was suddenly interrupted.

Faint sounds and distant voices reached his ears, carried on the still night air. To most, it would have been little more than an indistinct murmur, but to Momon's heightened undead senses, it was clear as day. His crimson eyes—hidden beneath his mask—narrowed. There were intruders near Konda Village.

The faint chatter carried a tone of caution and purpose, unmistakable signs of people who weren't wandering aimlessly. These were not villagers. "Mysterious individuals," he muttered to himself. "Approaching under the cover of darkness… how predictable."

Without hesitation, Momon turned away from the hearth. With a wave of his hand, the fire extinguished instantly, plunging the room into darkness. For anyone else, the abrupt loss of light would have been disorienting, but for Momon, his vision remained as sharp as daylight. The dark was his ally, not his enemy.

He moved toward the window with the precision of a predator, his footsteps utterly silent. Drawing aside the curtain just slightly, he peered out toward the surrounding hills that framed the edge of Konda Village. His gaze swept the landscape, scanning for any movement. The faint outline of figures caught his attention, silhouetted against the starlit horizon.

"I can hear you," he murmured, his voice barely audible but laden with menace.

Satisfied, Momon stepped back from the window and activated his teleportation skill. In an instant, his form vanished, leaving behind only the faintest whisper of displaced air.

The next moment, he reappeared outside, standing in the shadow of the house. The chill of the night was palpable, but it didn't faze him in the slightest. His skeletal form beneath the armor was impervious to such sensations.

Momon began to walk toward the hills, his movements deliberate and noiseless. The faint rustle of grass under his boots was the only sound, blending seamlessly with the ambient night. His imposing figure seemed to melt into the darkness, an enigmatic specter moving with unerring purpose.

As he ascended the gentle slope, the voices grew clearer, their words almost discernible. Momon's eyes narrowed further. Whoever these individuals were, they would soon realize the folly of approaching his territory uninvited.

The faint glow of the moon caught the edges of his armor as he reached the crest of the hill. Pausing for a brief moment, he let his senses expand, scanning not just with sight but with the supernatural awareness that came from his undead nature. He could feel their presence—close, wary, and undoubtedly prepared for confrontation.

Ten Fatui troops moved with practiced precision, their heavy boots crunching against the dirt in rhythm. At their head, a tall, elegant figure strode with measured grace—a Mirror Maiden. Her shimmering form seemed to reflect the moon itself, an ethereal beauty masking the menace beneath.

Ahead of her, a Pyro Agent led the group, his red-tinted mask giving him the appearance of a stalking predator. He glanced back over his shoulder and spoke in a hushed but firm tone.

"They're sleeping in this village, just as I reported," the Pyro Agent said.

The Mirror Maiden's lips curved into a faint, disdainful smile. "Sleeping… how quaint. So the infamous Honorary Knights have found shelter among these peasants." Her voice was smooth yet sharp, carrying a dangerous edge.

"They spoke to the village chief earlier," the Pyro Agent added. "It seems the locals trust them."

The Mirror Maiden clicked her tongue in irritation. "Trust? Foolish sentiment. These outlanders have no place in Inazuma, no matter how many titles or deeds they claim." Her mirrored shield gleamed as she gestured toward the village in the distance. "But how did they even leave Ritou? The Sakoku Decree should have kept them contained."

A Cryo Cicin Mage, her delicate mask hiding a mischievous smile, chimed in from the side of the group. "That servant of the Kamisato Clan must have meddled in this," she said with a hint of amusement. "The Shirasagi Himegimi's retainers are always sticking their noses where they don't belong."

The Mirror Maiden stopped abruptly, her piercing gaze sweeping over the mage. "Focus, mage. We are not here to gossip about the Kamisato Clan."

The Cryo Cicin Mage raised her hands in mock surrender, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. "Of course, my lady. But remind me—why are we here again? It seems like an awful lot of effort for a few outlanders."

"To stop them from interfering with Lady Signora's plans," the Mirror Maiden replied coldly. "Their meddling ends tonight. Both the Traveler and that… anomaly who calls himself Momon."

The Cryo Cicin Mage's playful demeanor faltered, her tone turning more serious. "I've heard a lot about those two, especially Momon. The stories about him are... unsettling. Ridiculously strong doesn't even begin to cover it."

The Pyro Agent let out a low growl. "Stories are just that—stories. No one is invincible."

The Mirror Maiden's expression remained composed, but her voice carried an icy resolve. "Whether the stories are exaggerated or not, it doesn't matter. If they pose a threat to Lady Signora, we will eliminate them."

The stillness of the night was pierced by the deep, resonant voice that seemed to reverberate through the trees.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen."

The words carried an eerie weight, commanding attention as if spoken by an arbiter of fate itself. The Fatui operatives, seasoned and hardened as they were, instinctively shifted into defensive stances, their weapons gleaming under the faint moonlight.

"Who's there?!" the Mirror Maiden demanded, her voice sharp with both authority and apprehension.

From the shadows beneath a gnarled tree, a figure emerged, tall and foreboding. Momon stepped forward, the faint silver glow of the moonlight reflecting off his dark armor and the eerie crimson eyes of his mask. His presence alone seemed to drain the warmth from the air, replacing it with an oppressive sense of inevitability. The Fatui instinctively took a few steps back, their confidence wavering.

"I assume," Momon began, his voice heavy and calm, "you lot are not here with good intentions."

The Mirror Maiden narrowed her eyes, her hands gripping her catalyst tightly. "We know that your arrival in Inazuma will only disrupt the Fatui's operations. We've come to stop you before you become a bigger problem."

Momon tilted his head slightly, a motion that felt more predatory than curious. "Is that right? And how, pray tell, do you plan to accomplish that?"

Without another word, the Mirror Maiden raised her catalyst, her voice ringing out as she cast her spell. "Mirror Cage!"

Shimmering shards of reflective glass materialized around Momon, encircling him in an intricate, crystalline prison. The moonlight refracted off the mirrors, casting fragmented beams of light across the battlefield. The Fatui Agent, seizing the opportunity, sprinted forward with his pyro knives glowing ominously. His movements were swift and calculated, aiming to strike a devastating blow.

But as the Agent closed in, the cage shattered—not with a roar of resistance, but with the effortless motion of Momon raising his arm. The shards fell away like fragile pieces of a child's sandcastle under the tide. The spectacle stunned the Fatui, their confidence shaken as they witnessed the supposed impenetrable trap crumble into nothingness.

Before the Agent could even process what had happened, Momon's gauntleted hand lashed out, gripping the man's face with inhuman strength. The sharp sound of his momentum halting filled the air as the Agent's feet dangled helplessly above the ground.

The Fatui operatives stared in horror, their breaths caught in their throats. "What the—?!" one of them stammered, his voice cracking under the pressure of fear.

The Agent struggled violently, clawing at Momon's hand in a futile attempt to free himself. The grip tightened. A sickening crack echoed as the mask on the Agent's face splintered, revealing wide, terrified eyes. Momon's fingers dug deeper, and with a final, crushing squeeze, the skull gave way. The Agent's body went limp as the lifeless form crumpled to the ground when Momon released him.

Silence fell like a heavy shroud, broken only by the shallow, panicked breaths of the remaining Fatui. The Pyroslinger raised his rifle, his trembling hands betraying the fear he couldn't suppress. The barrel quivered as he aimed at the towering figure, sweat pouring down his face.

Momon turned his head slowly, his crimson eyes locking onto the Pyroslinger. The aura of malice and absolute dominance he exuded was suffocating. "Do you still think," he said, his voice devoid of emotion, "that stopping me was a wise decision?"

The Pyroslinger faltered, his finger hovering over the trigger but unable to pull it. Every instinct screamed at him to run, but his legs refused to move. Behind him, the Mirror Maiden clenched her teeth, her hands glowing as she prepared another spell, though doubt flickered in her gaze.

A shimmering portal of glass and light erupted behind the Mirror Maiden, reflecting the moonlight in fractured rays. Without hesitation, she spun on her heel and darted through it.

"Mirror Portal!" she shouted, her voice echoing as the portal began to shimmer and ripple with energy.

"No! Don't leave us!" The Cryo Cicin Mage reached out toward the vanishing figure, her voice trembling with disbelief. But it was too late—the Mirror Maiden was gone, leaving the group of Fatui soldiers stranded in the presence of a monster.

Momon watched the scene unfold with an eerie calm, his mask tilting slightly as if amused. "Well, well, well," he said, his deep voice carrying an almost mocking tone. "Would you look at that? She left her comrades in darkness."

The remaining Fatui froze in place, their weapons drawn but their will to fight fading with every passing second. Their leader was gone, abandoning them to face a foe who had just crushed one of their comrades with little effort.

"What do we do?" one Pyroslinger whispered, his voice barely audible.

"Fight? Run? I…" another stammered, but his words failed him as Momon began to move.

Momon's crimson gaze turned toward the Cryo Cicin Mage, who stood trembling, her breath shallow and uneven. Her legs wobbled beneath her until she collapsed to her knees, her head bowed as tears welled in her eyes. The sheer presence of Momon was suffocating, an invisible weight that pressed down on her soul.

The other Fatui agents instinctively stepped back, their weapons still raised but their hands shaking violently. They glanced at one another, silently debating whether to flee or fight. But neither option seemed to offer salvation.

Momon walked toward the Cryo Cicin Mage, his steps measured and deliberate. Each movement seemed to echo with an ominous finality.

"You… you will help me with something," Momon said, his tone as cold and commanding as the grave.

The mage's eyes widened in confusion and fear. "H-huh? What… what do you mean?" she stammered.

Momon raised a gauntleted hand, the faint glow of magical energy swirling around his fingers. "[Create High Tier Vampire – Blood Empress," he intoned, his voice resonating with arcane power.

A crimson liquid erupted around the Cryo Cicin Mage, engulfing her in a pulsating wave of blood-like energy. The sight was grotesque, the viscous substance wrapping around her body and forcing itself into her mouth. Her muffled screams filled the air, sending chills through the remaining Fatui.

"What… what's happening to her?!" one of the agents gasped, his voice breaking with terror.

"I-I don't know!" another cried out, his voice cracking.

The mage's form writhed as the crimson liquid seeped into her, its glow fading to reveal her transformed body. She stood slowly, her movements unnatural, like a puppet being pulled by unseen strings. Her pale skin seemed to radiate an eerie light, and when she removed her mask and hood, her once-blue eyes were now a vivid, predatory crimson.

"Ivana?" one of her comrades whispered, his voice quivering. "Are you… okay?"

Ivana turned her head toward him, her lips curling into a smile that revealed elongated, razor-sharp fangs. Her new form exuded an unsettling aura of power and hunger.

She dropped to her knees before Momon, her crimson eyes shining with a newfound loyalty. "I am at your command, Supreme One!" she declared, her voice steady and reverent.

Momon regarded her for a moment before speaking. "What is your name?"

"Ivana, my Lord," she replied, bowing her head deeply.

"I have a mission for you," Momon said, his tone as calm as it was authoritative. "But first, you need to feed. Take care of them."

Ivana rose to her feet, turning her gaze toward her former comrades. Her smile widened as she took a slow, deliberate step toward them. Her fangs gleamed in the pale moonlight, and a predatory glint danced in her crimson eyes.

"Wait… Ivana, it's us! We're your friends!" one of the Fatui pleaded, backing away.

She tilted her head, her smile unchanging. "Friends?" she said, her voice dripping with mockery. "I don't remember you being my friends."

With that, she lunged, her movements a blur. The night erupted in chaos as Ivana descended upon her former allies. Their screams echoed through the darkness, soon fading into the chilling silence of the night.

Momon stood motionless, watching the carnage unfold with an air of detachment. When it was over, Ivana returned to him, her crimson eyes glowing brightly, her lips stained with blood.

"The task is complete, my Lord," she said, bowing low.

Momon nodded. "Good. Now, about your mission..."

Chapter Text

The harbor of Ritou was alive with activity as the sound of marching boots echoed against the wooden docks. A fleet of ships, their sails adorned with the emblem of the Shogun, swayed gently in the breeze. Soldiers disembarked in organized ranks, their armor gleaming under the pale light of the moon. The rhythmic clang of their steps reverberated through the town, causing merchants and travelers alike to halt and watch with wary eyes.

Among the soldiers, a formation of samurai parted their ranks, creating a path for a single figure. She strode forward with purpose, her presence commanding respect and fear in equal measure.

Kujou Sara, the General of the Tenryou Commission, stood tall and imposing. Her short, raven-black hair framed a face of sharp, cold beauty. Her golden eyes gleamed with an unwavering determination, and her pale skin, almost ethereal under the moonlight, contrasted starkly with the dark hues of her armor. Her wing-like adornments fluttered slightly as if echoing her resolute march.

Behind her, the soldiers snapped to attention, their movements precise and disciplined. Kujou Sara's reputation preceded her—a loyal and unyielding enforcer of the Shogun's will. She had recently sailed from Yashiori Island, where the fires of civil war raged between the Shogun's army and the Sangonomiya Resistance.

The war had been grueling. For months, the Shogun's forces had launched relentless assaults on the Watatsumi Island rebels, seeking to crush the rebellion in the name of eternal order. Yet, despite their superior numbers and resources, the Resistance had proven a formidable opponent. Their intimate knowledge of the terrain and the leadership of Sangonomiya Kokomi, their divine priestess and strategist, had allowed them not only to hold their ground but to counterattack with precision and devastating impact.

Kujou Sara's arrival in Ritou was not a casual visit. Supplies were desperately needed for the ongoing war effort. The tides of battle could shift on the strength of their logistics, and the Shogun's army could not afford another setback.

As Sara reached the center of the town, her voice cut through the tense silence like a blade. "Prepare the shipments immediately. Time is of the essence, and delays will not be tolerated."

A group of merchants hastily bowed, scrambling to fulfill her orders. Even the local officials, who usually carried themselves with an air of authority, lowered their heads in submission.

Sara turned her sharp gaze toward one of her officers. "Ensure that these supplies reach the frontlines without incident. If the Resistance intercepts them, heads will roll."

"Yes, General!" the officer responded, saluting crisply before hurrying to oversee the preparations.

Despite her calm exterior, Sara's mind churned with thoughts of the war. The Resistance's resilience had been unexpected, and the battles on Yashiori Island were becoming increasingly brutal. Each day brought new challenges, and while she did not doubt the Shogun's ultimate victory, she could not shake the nagging feeling that the conflict was becoming a test of endurance rather than strategy.

The hum of activity in Ritou was briefly interrupted as a samurai approached Kujou Sara, his footsteps hesitant but purposeful. He stopped a respectful distance away, bowing deeply before speaking.

"General Sara, I bring urgent news."

Sara turned her sharp, golden gaze on him, her expression unreadable. "Speak."

The samurai straightened, his voice steady despite the pressure of addressing the feared General. "Rumors have reached us that a group of outlanders has defied the Sakoku Decree and left Ritou for Narukami Island."

Sara's brow furrowed slightly. "And what concern is this to the Tenryou Commission? We are here for the war effort. The authorities of Ritou should handle such violations."

"Yes, General," the samurai stammered, his voice faltering slightly, "but these are not just any outlanders. The rumors say they are the Honorary Knights of Mondstadt and the heroes of Liyue."

At this, Sara paused, her expression hardening. She had heard whispers of these individuals, tales of their extraordinary feats and the chaos they left in their wake. While she often dismissed rumors, one name had caught her attention—Momon. Stories of the overwhelming shockwave that had shaken all the islands of Inazuma had been attributed to this enigmatic figure.

Her voice, when it came, was cold and decisive. "Then put them under the Decree."

The samurai blinked, clearly caught off guard. "But General… These are not criminals. Their reputation precedes them as protectors and heroes."

Sara's gaze turned icy, and the faintest edge of irritation crept into her tone. "Their reputation is irrelevant. They are outlanders. They have broken the law of the Shogun by leaving Ritou without permission. The Decree applies to all, without exception."

"Yes, General," the samurai responded reluctantly, bowing his head in submission. After a brief hesitation, he added, "There's… one more matter. That servant of the Kamisato Clan—Thoma—was seen in their company. He may be aiding them."

Sara's lips pressed into a thin line. The mention of Thoma was unexpected but not entirely surprising. Though his loyalty to the Kamisato Clan was well known, this blatant involvement in defiance of the Decree was unacceptable.

"Thoma," she murmured, as if testing the weight of his name. Then, her voice turned resolute. "His days of holding a Vision are over. For his involvement in this matter, he will also be put under the Decree."

The samurai bowed again, his movements quick and precise. "As you command, General." With that, he turned and hurried off to carry out her orders.

As the samurai disappeared into the bustle of Ritou, Sara motioned for one of her officers to approach. A tall, seasoned warrior stepped forward, his armor clinking softly with each step. He knelt before her, awaiting her orders.

"Yes, General," he said, his voice firm and loyal.

Sara spoke with measured authority. "I will leave command of this operation to you for now. The supplies are to be loaded immediately and transported to the frontlines. Ensure the camps remain secure. Under no circumstances are they to fall to the Resistance."

The officer nodded sharply. "Understood, General. May I ask where you will be?"

Sara's gaze shifted momentarily toward the distant horizon, where Narukami Island lay shrouded in mist and moonlight. "There is another matter that demands my attention here. The situation with these outlanders must be addressed personally."

The officer hesitated briefly but nodded. "As you command, General. The supplies will be delivered, and the camps will hold."

"Good," Sara said, her tone final. "See to it."

With a final salute, the officer rose and strode off to oversee the preparations. Sara remained in place, her thoughts briefly lingering on the names she had heard—Momon and Aether. If they truly possessed the power the rumors claimed, they could not be underestimated.

The travelers trudged along the winding path, their feet weary from an entire day of walking. Konda Village was now a distant memory, its peaceful charm replaced by the rugged terrain of the countryside. Thoma led the group with a steady pace, his gaze scanning the path ahead. He had chosen not to escort them directly to Inazuma City—it was too dangerous, especially for newcomers unacquainted with the visionless decree and the patrols of the Shogunate's soldiers. Instead, he was bringing them to the Kamisato Estate, where they would find safety and rest under the protection of the Kamisato Clan.

Yet, there was more to Thoma's decision. His mistress, Ayaka, had heard of the Honorary Knight and their remarkable deeds. Tales of their heroism had traveled far, reaching even the secluded halls of the estate. Ayaka, a master swordswoman herself, was both astonished and inspired by these stories. She yearned to meet these heroes from distant lands, to witness their strength firsthand, and perhaps exchange techniques of the blade.

The journey was long, but the breathtaking scenery provided moments of solace. As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, the sky transformed into a tapestry of orange and pink hues, casting a warm glow over the landscape. At last, the travelers arrived at the Kamisato Estate.

The estate was nestled atop a gentle rise, surrounded by an expanse of verdant gardens and shimmering ponds. Cherry blossom trees lined the pathways, their delicate pink petals swaying softly in the evening breeze. A gentle fragrance lingered in the air, refreshing their tired spirits. The estate itself was an elegant masterpiece, its architecture blending traditional Inazuman design with a sense of refined simplicity.

Guards stationed at the entrance straightened at the sight of the newcomers. Their eyes lingered on the unfamiliar trio following Thoma. Aether's golden hair caught the fading sunlight, making him appear almost ethereal. Paimon hovered beside him, her expressive face filled with awe as she took in the scenery. But it was Momon who drew the most attention. His imposing figure and enigmatic presence made the guards exchange wary glances, though none dared to question Thoma's judgment.

Thoma paused at the gates, turning to the travelers. "Wait here for a moment. I'll let Lady Ayaka know you've arrived." With a reassuring smile, he disappeared into the mansion, leaving them to admire the estate.

Momon's gaze wandered southward. From this vantage point, he could see the sprawling city of Inazuma in the distance, its streets illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns. To the east, a towering mountain dominated the horizon, its rocky slopes shrouded in mist. The juxtaposition of nature and civilization painted a scene of serene beauty.

Cherry blossom petals fluttered past, carried by a gentle wind. Momon's crimson eyes softened as he admired the blossoms. "It's been a long time since I've seen cherry blossoms," he said quietly. Yet, deep within, he realized the truth. Back on Earth, he had never seen cherry blossoms firsthand. The environment had been ravaged, the air choked with smog and acid rain. He had only known their beauty through books and pictures on the internet. Now, standing amidst this vibrant and untouched splendor, he felt a bittersweet ache in his chest. He was glad to be far away from Earth, even if it meant living in a strange new world.

"They are beautiful," Aether agreed, his voice filled with quiet awe.

Paimon floated closer, her small hands clasped together as she nodded fervently. "Yeah! It's like something out of a dream!"

The sound of footsteps broke the serene atmosphere, pulling the group's attention back to the present. Thoma emerged from the mansion with a smile that carried both excitement and relief. "Lady Ayaka is ready to meet you," he said warmly, gesturing toward the entrance. "Please, follow me."

The travelers exchanged glances before stepping forward, crossing the threshold into the Kamisato Estate.

Inside, the ambiance was a seamless blend of elegance and tradition. Shoji screens lined the walls, painted with delicate cherry blossom motifs. The polished wooden floors reflected the soft glow of lanterns, casting a warm, inviting light. The faint scent of incense lingered in the air, adding a layer of serenity to the space.

From behind one of the screens, a figure emerged with graceful poise. She moved as if the air itself bent to her will, each step measured and deliberate. As she came into full view, the travelers couldn't help but be struck by her presence.

The woman before them was a vision of refinement. Her pale, flawless complexion seemed to shimmer under the soft lantern light, and her silver-blue eyes held a calm yet piercing gaze that seemed to look right through them. Her waist-length, pale blue hair was styled in a traditional hime cut, framing her delicate features with effortless precision. She wore an elegant kimono-style outfit adorned with motifs of water and sakura petals, the fabric shimmering subtly with her every movement.

She offered a deep, respectful bow, her voice soft yet commanding. "Welcome to the Kamisato Estate. I am Kamisato Ayaka, the Shirasagi Himegimi. It is an honor to finally meet the renowned Honorary Knights of Mondstadt."

Aether stepped forward, bowing politely in return. "The honor is ours, Lady Ayaka. Your estate is beautiful, and we are grateful for your hospitality."

Paimon, as usual, hovered close by, her eyes wide with admiration. "Wow, you're so elegant! Paimon feels like she should bow too!" She performed a small, exaggerated bow mid-air, earning a soft, amused smile from Ayaka.

Momon, standing slightly apart from the group, inclined his head respectfully but said nothing. His crimson gaze observed Ayaka intently, taking in every detail of her demeanor.

Ayaka's eyes flickered toward him, her serene expression unchanging, though there was a hint of curiosity in her gaze. "And you must be Momon," she said, her tone tinged with reverence. "Your feats have reached even the ears of the Yashiro Commission. It is said that you possess extraordinary strength—strength that rivals the gods themselves."

Momon inclined his head again, his deep voice calm and measured. "You are well-informed, Lady Kamisato. But such rumors are often exaggerated."

Ayaka's smile grew, faint but genuine. "Perhaps. Or perhaps they do not do justice to the truth." She turned her attention back to the group as a whole. "I've heard much about your deeds—defending Mondstadt, aiding Liyue. Such valor is rare and admirable. I hope you will find some measure of peace here in Inazuma, though our nation's challenges are many."

Thoma stepped forward, his cheerful tone breaking the solemnity. "Lady Ayaka has been looking forward to meeting you all. She's also quite skilled in swordsmanship and admires those who have honed their craft. Perhaps, if time permits, you could share some of your techniques."

Ayaka's cheeks flushed faintly, though her composure remained. "Thoma," she chided gently, "you shouldn't impose upon our guests."

"Nonsense!" Paimon interjected, waving her hands. "Aether's really good with a sword! Right, Aether?"

Aether chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I wouldn't mind. It would be an honor to spar with someone as skilled as you, Lady Ayaka."

Ayaka's smile brightened, a glimmer of excitement breaking through her poised demeanor. "You are too kind. Perhaps, when time allows, we might arrange something."

Momon's deep voice cut through the lighthearted banter. "Time is a luxury we may not have. Inazuma's troubles seem… complicated."

Ayaka's expression sobered, and she nodded. "You are correct. The Vision Hunt Decree weighs heavily upon us all. But let us not dwell on burdens tonight. You are our guests, and it is our duty to ensure your stay is both safe and pleasant."

Thoma gestured toward a side room. "We've prepared quarters for you. Please, make yourselves comfortable. Dinner will be served shortly."

As the group began to settle in, Ayaka's attention was drawn to the stark contrast between the two figures before her. Aether stood as a beacon of light—a figure whose presence exuded warmth and reassurance. His golden hair caught the soft lantern light, and his calm demeanor, paired with his reputation as the Honorary Knight, made him approachable and inspiring. Ayaka felt an unspoken connection to him, as though his aura mirrored the ideals she strived to uphold in her own life.

Her gaze then shifted to Momon, who stood apart from the others, his dark mask and the faint gleam of his armor partially hidden beneath his gothic, dark cloak. Every aspect of his appearance seemed to radiate an aura of danger and mystery. The dark energy he carried was palpable, an invisible weight that filled the room and demanded respect. Though he had spoken calmly and with measured words, there was an unrelenting edge to him that made it impossible to feel entirely at ease in his presence.

Ayaka's delicate fingers unconsciously brushed against the sleeve of her kimono, her thoughts briefly clouded by unease. The mask—its dark, enigmatic design—concealed not just Momon's face but his very essence, creating an impenetrable barrier between him and those who stood before him. Even his crimson eyes, glowing faintly beneath the mask's shadow, seemed like windows into an abyss that one dared not gaze into for too long.

Despite her unease, Ayaka offered him the same respect she afforded all her guests. Yet she found her attention drawn more naturally to Aether. His lighthearted, approachable nature put her at ease, and the stories of his valor and kindness only deepened her admiration.

"It must have been a long journey," Ayaka said softly, directing her words toward Aether while carefully avoiding the unsettling gaze of Momon. "If there's anything you need to make your stay more comfortable, please don't hesitate to ask."

Aether smiled gently, his golden eyes warm and reassuring. "Thank you, Lady Ayaka. Your hospitality means a great deal to us."

Paimon, ever the lively spirit, floated closer. "Aether's used to long walks and adventures, but even heroes need a good meal and a comfy bed sometimes!"

Aether chuckled and nodded. "Paimon's not wrong."

Ayaka's lips curved into a soft smile, her tension easing ever so slightly in the face of their lighthearted banter. She glanced briefly at Momon, who remained silent, his posture rigid, his presence looming like a shadow in the warm glow of the room.

Thoma, ever perceptive, stepped forward to bridge the gap. "Momon, Aether, Paimon—Inazuma is fortunate to have you here. The Shirasagi Himegimi herself has taken an interest in your journey, so please know you're among friends."

Momon inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, his deep voice cutting through the momentary quiet. "Your hospitality is appreciated."

Though his words were courteous, they carried an undercurrent of finality, effectively closing any avenue for further conversation. Ayaka nodded, but her gaze lingered on Aether, finding solace in the light he seemed to carry effortlessly.

As the evening wore on, the travelers were led to their quarters, and the Kamisato Estate seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. The interplay of light and dark within the group was undeniable, and Ayaka, though intrigued by the enigmatic Momon, found herself instinctively gravitating toward Aether—the light to counterbalance the shadows.

The morning sun bathed the Kamisato Estate in a soft golden hue, the dew on the cherry blossoms sparkling like tiny diamonds. Momon stood outside the mansion, his dark cloak gently swaying in the breeze. His crimson eyes observed Aether, Paimon, and Ayaka as they strolled together through the garden. Their bright faces and lively conversation painted a picture of camaraderie and ease. Ayaka's light laughter drifted toward him, and Momon could not help but notice how her gaze lingered on Aether, her admiration evident in the way she smiled at him.

"Well... lucky Aether," Momon thought, his crimson eyes narrowing faintly beneath his mask.

He decided not to intrude on their moment, choosing instead to let them enjoy their morning. Turning his gaze toward the towering mountain east of the estate, his attention settled on the massive shrine visible at its peak. The imposing structure piqued his curiosity.

With a purposeful stride, Momon approached Thoma, who was diligently sweeping the stone pathway leading to the mansion. The blonde-haired retainer worked with an easy grace, a testament to his unwavering dedication to the Kamisato Clan.

"Thoma," Momon called, his deep voice cutting through the serene morning air.

Thoma paused mid-sweep, looking up to see the dark figure approaching. A warm smile spread across his face. "Oh, good morning, Momon. You're up early. What can I do for you?"

Momon gestured toward the mountain with a gloved hand. "What's up there? That structure at the peak."

Thoma followed Momon's gaze and rested the broom against his shoulder. "Ah, you mean the Grand Narukami Shrine. It's the largest and most revered shrine in Inazuma. It was built ages ago on the summit of Mt. Yougou. It's a sacred place dedicated to the Shogun and her divine authority."

Momon's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied the mountain's imposing height and the shrine's distant silhouette. "Interesting," he muttered. His voice carried a note of intrigue.

After a moment, he turned back to Thoma. "I'd like to visit it. Inform Aether and Paimon for me that I've left. Tell them I'll return soon. I don't want to interrupt their conversation with Lady Ayaka."

Thoma raised an eyebrow, glancing back toward the garden where the trio was still engaged in cheerful discussion. A knowing smile played on his lips as he returned his attention to Momon. "Ah, I see what you're doing. Don't worry, I'll let them know. The Grand Narukami Shrine is quite the trek, though. You sure you don't want a guide?"

Momon shook his head. "I prefer to travel alone for this."

"Alright, your call. Just be careful up there. The path is steep and can be treacherous in some places," Thoma advised, his tone friendly but serious.

Momon inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. "Understood. Thank you."

Thoma watched as the enigmatic figure turned and began walking toward the mountain trail. The morning sunlight cast long shadows behind Momon, and the faint rustle of his cloak mingled with the gentle rustling of the cherry blossoms.

As Momon disappeared from view, Thoma chuckled to himself and returned to his sweeping. "Well, there he goes. Guess he's got his own way of doing things."

Momon's boots struck the weathered stones of the main path leading toward the Grand Narukami Shrine. The road, ancient and winding, was lined with cracks and uneven steps, the centuries of wear evident in the eroded stone. It was clear that the path had not been well maintained over the years, a testament to the enduring neglect that had slowly overtaken the shrine's sacred grounds. The mountain loomed ahead, its towering presence both imposing and serene, but Momon couldn't help but feel a flicker of sympathy for the pilgrims who must have struggled to climb these treacherous paths.

As he walked, the air thick with the scent of pine trees and incense, his gaze was drawn to the figures emerging from the shadows. A group of eight people—six Nobushi and two Kairagi—were scattered across the road, leaning against the rough stone walls or standing idle as they prepared to resume their task. Their appearance immediately struck Momon with a sense of deja vu. They looked eerily similar to the bandits who had attacked Konda Village, their ragged armor and rough demeanor giving them an air of hostility. There was no mistaking their kind.

The group noticed Momon's imposing silhouette approaching from down the path. Instantly, they straightened, their eyes locking onto his tall armored figure. They exchanged looks, clearly sizing him up. The Kairagi, towering and muscular, looked eager for confrontation, while the Nobushi—slighter but still deadly—shifted into an alert stance.

One of the Nobushi, the one with a scar slashing across his left cheek, stepped forward with an exaggerated grin plastered across his face. He placed a hand on his sword hilt, as if preparing to draw, though his posture was more casual than threatening. "Good morning there, mister! Beautiful day to visit the shrine, isn't it?" he called out, his voice mocking.

Momon's eyes, hidden beneath the polished black mask, scanned the group. The absurdity of the situation almost made him chuckle. Here they were, standing in front of him—six Nobushi, two Kairagi—and none of them seemed to realize who was before them. His silent, imposing figure, clad in dark, unyielding armor, screamed danger, yet these fools were oblivious to their impending doom.

"Hello… Is this the path that leads to the Grand Narukami Shrine?" Momon asked, his voice low, a tone of disinterest seeping through the words as he subtly examined the surroundings.

The large Kairagi, his face as rough as the mountain stones and his voice gravelly, gave a booming laugh before answering, clearly too self-assured for his own good. "Yes, indeed it is," the Kairagi grunted. "Not many come this far, though. It's a long way to the shrine. You planning on climbing all the way?"

"Thanks," Momon muttered, taking a step forward. His pace remained unhurried, his eyes scanning for any sign of hostility, but he had no intention of stopping for idle conversation.

The bandits stood still for a moment, seemingly caught off guard by his calm response. It didn't take long for confusion to creep into their ranks. But their arrogance quickly overpowered their caution, and before Momon could take another step, they moved into action, positioning themselves between him and the road ahead.

The Nobushi who had spoken first sneered, his hand resting more purposefully on his blade now. "You really thought you'd just walk away that easily, buddy? Hahaha! You're not just gonna pass through without a little… 'friendly' conversation, are you?"

With a slow, deliberate motion, the Nobushi stepped forward, flanking him from one side, while the two Kairagi circled around to his back. The air seemed to tighten with tension as the bandits closed the distance, their eyes gleaming with malicious amusement. They clearly thought they had the upper hand.

Momon's grip tightened ever so slightly on the handle of his sword, his posture remaining relaxed but poised. A faint but terrifying aura seemed to emanate from him, though his mask remained impassive.

"Get out of my sight…" His voice dropped to a low, guttural growl. It was the tone of someone who had no patience for games, no tolerance for those who dared to challenge him. "…or I'll murder all of you."

The words were soft, but they carried a palpable weight—one that made the air around them crackle with a sudden, undeniable intensity. The crimson dots in the hollow of his eye sockets burned with the promise of death, an unspoken threat that only those who dared to see it would understand. It was the true nature of what stood before them: not a man, but a vengeful, undead being, capable of violence beyond their wildest nightmares.

For a moment, everything seemed to pause. The Nobushi, once brimming with confidence, faltered at the sight of the crimson glow that flickered beneath the mask. The two Kairagi, less intelligent but still dangerous, hesitated. The words had struck them—unnerved them, in fact—and the playful mockery in their eyes quickly turned to wariness.

The Nobushi who had mocked him before blinked, a slow, incredulous look crossing his face as he took a step back. "What… What the hell are you…?" he muttered, his bravado slipping for the first time since they'd spotted Momon. He glanced at the others, unsure of how to proceed.

The Kairagi, still towering over him, clenched his fists. "Don't listen to him! This guy's a monster, we've got him surrounded. He's just trying to scare us!" With a roar, he swung his large axe in a wide arc, the blade gleaming under the dim light, ready to strike.

But Momon's posture remained unbroken. The world around him seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the violence that would inevitably unfold.

"You've made your choice," Momon muttered, his voice a death knell carried on the wind.

Without hesitation, he raised a gloved hand. The air around him grew heavy, swirling with an ominous force. A deep hum resonated through the air as Momon invoked his power.

"Wind Saw."

In an instant, the world seemed to hold its breath before erupting into chaos. A devastating shockwave of Anemo energy exploded outward, cutting through the air like the howl of a raging storm. The element surged in every direction, slicing everything in its path with razor-sharp precision.

The bandits didn't even have time to react.

"Wha—?!" The startled gasp of one Nobushi was the last sound any of them made before the Anemo blades tore through their bodies.

In a single, terrifying moment, seven of the eight men were cleaved cleanly in half. Their torsos separated from their lower halves, blood erupting like geysers as their dismembered bodies crumpled to the ground. The path became a grotesque canvas painted in crimson, the metallic stench of blood thick in the air. Guts and viscera spilled out in disturbing patterns, staining the ancient stones beneath their feet.

The eighth bandit, a Nobushi standing slightly higher on the slope, managed to avoid a direct fatal blow—but not by luck. He was the unluckiest of them all. The gust had sheared through his legs, leaving him severed at the knees. He collapsed onto the bloody path with a sickening thud, screaming in agony.

"Aaaaahhh! Oh gods, my legs! My legs!" he wailed, his voice raw and shrill, echoing through the mountainside. He clutched at the stumps where his legs had once been, his blood pouring out in a steady stream, pooling around him in a horrifying display of carnage.

Momon, silent and unmoving for a moment, watched the pitiful scene with the cold detachment of a predator surveying its prey. His towering form seemed almost spectral against the blood-soaked backdrop, his dark cloak swaying lightly in the aftermath of the unleashed Anemo force. Slowly, deliberately, he began to walk forward, his heavy footsteps crunching over broken stone and splattered remains.

The wounded Nobushi's eyes widened in pure terror as Momon drew closer. To him, it was as if the grim reaper himself had emerged from the shadows. The figure was no man—it was death incarnate, a force of nature he could neither comprehend nor escape.

"S-Stay back! No, don't kill me!" the Nobushi screamed, his voice trembling with desperation. He tried to crawl backward, dragging his ruined body across the stone path, leaving a trail of blood behind him. "Aaaaah, it hurts! Please, stay away!"

Momon stopped a few paces away, tilting his head slightly as if studying the pathetic creature before him. His voice, cold and devoid of emotion, broke the tense silence.

"You're not that cocky now, are you?"

"I'm sorry! I'm really sorry, mister! Please—mercy! Mercy!" the Nobushi begged, his hands trembling as he raised them in a futile gesture of surrender. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the blood that had splattered onto him from his comrades.

Momon remained unmoved. He crouched down slightly, his crimson eyes glowing ominously beneath the mask. His next words were calm, almost conversational—but they carried a weight that made the Nobushi's blood run cold.

"Bite that stone brick," Momon commanded, his voice as chilling as the grave.

"Huh?" The Nobushi's tear-streaked face twisted in confusion. He glanced down at the old, weathered stone beneath him, unsure if he had heard correctly.

"I said… bite it." Momon's tone grew sharper, more menacing.

Fear gripped the Nobushi's heart like a vice. He didn't understand why this monster wanted him to bite the stone, but he knew better than to question it. Trembling violently, he lowered his head, opening his mouth wide. His teeth clamped down on the cold, rough surface of the ancient brick, his jaw trembling with both effort and terror.

Momon straightened, looming over the pitiful man like a dark shadow. Without another word, he raised his boot high, his movements deliberate, almost methodical. The Nobushi's muffled sobs and groans were the only sounds in the air.

Then, with a sickening crack, Momon's armored boot came down with brutal force, stomping the Nobushi's head into the stone path. The sound was grotesque, a mix of bone shattering and flesh tearing. Blood and brain matter sprayed outward, coating the surrounding stones in a horrifying splatter.

The man's body twitched once, twice, and then lay still. The scene was one of absolute carnage, the aftermath of a brutality that was beyond human comprehension.

Momon stood there for a moment, his crimson eyes scanning the mess before him. The once-living bandits were now little more than a memory, reduced to mangled corpses that littered the blood-soaked path. Slowly, he turned and continued his climb, his footsteps echoing ominously as he ascended toward the Grand Narukami Shrine.

If this was to be the first curb-stomp in the history of Teyvat, it was a gruesome legacy—one that would never be forgotten by the land itself.

Chapter Text

Finally, Momon reached the summit of Mt. Yougou, standing before the Grand Narukami Shrine. The journey up the treacherous path had been swift for him, his supernatural resilience and undead nature rendering the climb almost effortless. For ordinary mortals, however, this ascent would have been an arduous trial. The ancient path was riddled with missing ladders, crumbling stones, and perilous drops that could test even the most devoted pilgrim's resolve.

As he stepped onto the plateau, the scene before him was a stark contrast to the rugged climb. The Grand Narukami Shrine stood as a testament to architectural grandeur and spiritual reverence, a place where the divine seemed to meet the mortal world.

The shrine was immense, its crimson gates towering high into the sky, framed by intricately carved wooden beams adorned with golden inlays. Sacred sakura trees flanked the shrine, their branches heavy with blossoms that cascaded down in gentle showers of pink petals, carried by the wind like whispers from the heavens. The air here was crisp and filled with a serene energy, the faint sound of wind chimes and rustling leaves creating a soothing melody.

The courtyard stretched wide, its stones immaculately clean despite the mountain's harsh conditions. Lanterns lined the edges, their soft glow adding an ethereal touch to the already divine atmosphere. The shrine's main hall rose majestically at the far end, its tiled roof gleaming in the sunlight. It was a sight that seemed to defy the mortal realm, a haven of peace and beauty perched atop the world.

For a moment, even Momon paused, his gaze lingering on the shrine. Though he had no true mortal soul to feel awe, there was something about this place that resonated deeply. It was a place of history, of faith, and of reverence—a stark reminder of what humanity and the divine could create together.

"To a pilgrim," he mused aloud, his voice low and almost reverent, "this must feel as if they've reached heaven itself."

The quiet atmosphere was broken only by the distant murmur of shrine maidens chanting within the shrine. Momon's crimson eyes scanned the area, noting every detail. Though this was a place of peace, his instincts remained sharp. His presence here was anything but ordinary, and he knew it.

A Miko, dressed in traditional red and white robes, noticed his arrival and stepped forward to greet him. Her expression was serene at first, her hands folded neatly in front of her as she began to speak.

"Welcome, dear vi—"

Her words caught in her throat as her gaze fell upon him. The figure before her was unlike anything she had ever seen at the shrine. The dark mask obscuring his face and the glint of armor beneath his cloak exuded an aura of both power and danger. She could feel the weight of his presence, a force that seemed to press against the tranquility of the sacred grounds.

For a moment, her breath hitched. Why would someone so ominous come to a place so holy? The question danced on the edge of her lips, but fear kept her silent. She lowered her gaze, unsure if meeting his eyes—or whatever lay behind that mask—would bring fortune or doom.

"Greetings," Momon said, his voice low and calm yet carrying an unsettling edge that sent a shiver down her spine.

The miko froze in place, her fingers clutching the edges of her sleeves as he walked past her without a second glance. Her heart raced as she watched his towering figure move deeper into the shrine grounds, his dark cloak flowing like a shadow against the backdrop of cherry blossoms.

Momon didn't turn back, nor did he falter in his steps. He wasn't here to frighten the faithful, though he couldn't help the unease his appearance caused. This place was serene, but it was not his. He felt like an intruder in a world of light, but he had come for his own reasons, not to blend in.

Behind him, the Miko stood rooted to the spot, her mind racing. "What kind of man walks with such a presence? Is he truly a man at all?" she whispered to herself, trembling.

Momon ascended the final steps and entered the heart of the Grand Narukami Shrine. The serenity of the place was palpable, a haven of peace and divinity perched atop the world. The faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum of cicadas blended into a harmonious melody, soothing the soul of any who visited—though Momon felt no such peace. His undead nature was impervious to such comforts, yet he found himself appreciating the shrine's meticulous beauty.

Before him stood the centerpiece of the sacred grounds: a massive sakura tree, its branches sprawling like the arms of an ancient guardian. The tree's bark was etched with veins of violet light, pulsating faintly, as if the tree itself breathed with divine energy. The gnarled roots coiled into the shape of a fox's head, the unmistakable emblem of the Kitsune Saiguu. Its blossoms glowed faintly, a mixture of vibrant pinks and purples, their petals drifting gently in the breeze like falling stars.

Momon paused, tilting his head slightly as he examined the tree. "A manifestation of divinity… or something else entirely?" he murmured to himself.

The shrine maidens nearby, who had been tending to offerings and sweeping the grounds, froze when they noticed him. Their eyes widened, and whispers passed among them like wind rustling through reeds.

"Who is that?" one of them muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"An outlander," another replied. "He doesn't belong here. Look at his armor… and that mask. What is he doing in a sacred place like this?"

Momon ignored their hushed voices, his crimson gaze fixed on the tree. He approached it with slow, deliberate steps, each one resonating on the stone path. The tension among the shrine maidens grew palpable, their movements faltering as they debated whether to intervene or retreat.

One of the braver mikos stepped forward hesitantly, clutching her ceremonial staff. Her voice wavered as she addressed him. "O-Our honored guest… this is the Sacred Sakura. It is a place of great reverence. May we inquire about your purpose here?"

Momon turned his head toward her, the motion fluid yet unnervingly precise. His masked visage seemed to pierce through her, though no emotion was visible. "Your Sacred Sakura is a sight to behold," he said, his tone even, yet carrying an unmistakable weight. "I seek no trouble here. I merely wish to observe."

The miko swallowed hard, unsure whether his words were genuine or a veiled threat. "O-Of course. But please, tread with care. This is a holy site… and the guardian spirits do not take kindly to disrespect."

"Noted," Momon replied curtly, turning his attention back to the tree. He walked closer, studying the faint glow emanating from its bark. He could feel an energy here, special and ancient, though, unlike anything he had encountered before.

The shrine maidens kept their distance, their fear mingling with curiosity as they watched the enigmatic figure stand before the Sacred Sakura. To them, he was an enigma—a dark shadow amidst the light of their divine sanctuary.

Momon raised a hand, his gauntlet catching the dappled sunlight as he hesitated for a moment before resting his palm against the tree's bark. The faint hum of energy seemed to intensify at his touch as if the tree acknowledged his presence—or perhaps feared him.

Momon's gloved hand rested firmly against the Sacred Sakura's bark, his crimson eyes narrowing behind the dark mask as he focused. Beneath his palm, he could feel a subtle but undeniable energy—a pulsating rhythm, as if the tree were alive and battling against an invisible force.

"Hmm…" he muttered to himself, his voice low and contemplative. The energies were unmistakable, a war between purity and corruption, the latter embedded deep within the roots. "So, this is its purpose. Purification… but it's struggling. The filth in its roots is overwhelming."

He considered the implications for a moment, then straightened slightly. "Let's see if this will help." His voice carried a measured calm, though a faint undercurrent of curiosity betrayed his intrigue. Raising his free hand, he began to chant softly, the words of a spell forming on his non-existing lips.

"[Brilliant Radiance]."

A sudden surge of light emanated from his hand, spreading outward in shimmering waves that enveloped the Sacred Sakura. The light was pure and otherworldly, carrying with it an aura of warmth and divinity that seemed out of place for someone of his ominous appearance.

The shrine maidens nearby gasped audibly, their conversations halting as they turned toward the tree. "What… what is happening?" one whispered, her voice trembling.

Another stepped forward, shielding her eyes from the radiant glow. "That light… it's so pure. I've never seen anything like it!"

The Sacred Sakura responded instantly, its glow intensifying as the light poured into it. The veins of violet energy pulsing through its bark brightened, spreading upward into its branches like rivers of molten starlight. The blossoms, which had seemed to dim earlier, now glowed with a vibrant brilliance, their petals shimmering as if coated in morning dew.

Momon stepped back, lowering his hand as the light dissipated. "Interesting," he muttered, almost to himself. "I thought this spell was only effective on living beings. Good to know it works on trees as well."

The shrine priestess who had spoken to Momon earlier approached cautiously, her wide eyes shimmering with a mixture of awe and fear. She hesitated for a moment before summoning the courage to speak. "What… what have you done?" she demanded, though her voice betrayed more astonishment than accusation.

Momon turned his masked face slightly in her direction, his crimson eyes glowing faintly through the dark sockets. Before he could reply, another voice, smooth and composed, cut through the tense atmosphere.

"Now, now, calm yourself, girl. There's no need to panic."

The priestess stiffened, stepping aside instinctively as a tall, elegant figure made her entrance. The woman's pale, flawless skin seemed to radiate a subtle glow in the morning light. Her long, silky pink hair flowed gracefully behind her, accentuated by her striking purple eyes that shimmered with an almost mischievous glint. Most notable were the pink fox ears atop her head, their tips pointing downward in a relaxed yet regal manner.

Momon turned his gaze to the newcomer, assessing her in silence.

"Greetings, outlander," the woman began, her voice soft yet authoritative, carrying a maturity that demanded attention. "I am Yae Miko, the head shrine maiden in charge of the Grand Narukami Shrine. May I have the honor of knowing who you are?"

Momon inclined his head slightly, his deep voice echoing under his mask. "My name is Momon, an adventurer from Mondstadt."

Yae Miko's expression shifted slightly, her lips curving into a sly smile. "Ah, so you are that Momon," she said, her tone laced with intrigue. "The famous Honorary Knight of Mondstadt, no less. A hero of Liyue, as I hear it."

Momon tilted his head slightly, his crimson eyes narrowing behind the mask. "How did you come by that information, up here?" he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

Yae Miko chuckled softly, the sound like a melodious ripple in the still air. "Oh, but I do like to keep myself informed, especially about fascinating individuals who cross borders and leave tales of their deeds behind. You'd be surprised how quickly word travels, even to a place as seemingly remote as this shrine."

Her gaze lingered on him, sharp and calculating despite her pleasant tone. "I make it a habit to visit the city now and then, where news of extraordinary events tends to reach my ears. Your exploits have been particularly… captivating."

Momon regarded her for a moment, his voice calm and measured. "Captivating, you say. I doubt my actions warrant such attention."

"Oh, you underestimate your reputation," Yae Miko replied with a sly smile, her tone almost teasing. "The stories of Mondstadt's Honorary Knight and Liyue's hero have spread far and wide. Some say you defeated an ancient god in Liyue. Others claim you've survived battles no mortal could endure. And now, here you are, standing before the Sacred Sakura, performing miracles with holy light. How could someone like me not be intrigued?"

Momon remained silent, his crimson gaze unyielding. He wasn't one for unnecessary flattery, but he could sense the layers beneath her words—probing, testing, perhaps even challenging.

Yae Miko tilted her head slightly, her fox ears twitching faintly. "And what brings such a storied individual to my humble shrine? Surely, you're not here as a mere pilgrim seeking divine blessings."

Momon's tone remained steady, devoid of emotion. "Curiosity. I wanted to see the Grand Narukami Shrine for myself. And the Sacred Sakura." He glanced briefly at the tree behind him. "Its purpose is… unique."

Yae Miko's smile deepened, her purple eyes gleaming with interest. "Indeed. The Sacred Sakura is a guardian and purifier of Inazuma's land. It absorbs the darkness that lingers and cleanses it, ensuring our nation remains protected. But to think you could enhance it with your own abilities…"

Momon's posture remained composed, his voice low. "It needed assistance. Nothing more."

Yae Miko studied him closely, her expression unreadable. After a moment, she chuckled again, the sound soft and almost disarming. "You are quite the enigma, aren't you, Momon? A shadowed figure of immense power who performs acts of light and purity. Truly fascinating."

"I'm not here to entertain fascination," Momon replied bluntly.

"Of course not," Yae Miko said with a hint of amusement, stepping closer. "But humor me, if you will. As the overseer of this shrine, it is my duty to understand those who cross its threshold, especially ones who can influence the Sacred Sakura itself. You may have helped the tree, but I cannot help but wonder…" Her voice lowered slightly, her gaze piercing. "What are your true intentions in Inazuma?"

Momon held her gaze, his crimson eyes unwavering. "To observe. To understand. Nothing more."

Yae Miko's smile widened, her tone light yet laced with intrigue. "If that's the case, then perhaps you and I will have much to discuss. The Grand Narukami Shrine is always open to those who seek understanding."

Momon's voice lowered slightly, a subtle warning in his tone. "I'm not here to be analyzed, Lady Miko."

Miko's smile didn't falter; if anything, it grew more amused. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," she said with a soft chuckle. "For now, at least."

There was a brief pause, the air between them charged with an unspoken tension before Miko gestured toward the tree. "In any case, whatever you've done here has not gone unnoticed. The Sacred Sakura seems… livelier, and more vibrant. For that, you have my gratitude."

Momon gave a faint nod. "As I said, I was curious. Nothing more."

Yae Miko's violet eyes glimmered with curiosity as she tilted her head slightly, her fox ears twitching ever so subtly. "So," she began, her voice as smooth as silk, "what exactly did you do to the Sacred Sakura, dear adventurer? I'd love to hear about it, especially since, on our side, we typically need to perform a lengthy and intricate ritual to purify the tree of its accumulated filth."

Momon regarded her for a moment, his crimson eyes glowing faintly behind the mask. "It's a divine spell," he replied simply, his tone calm and matter-of-fact. "A spell called [Brilliant Radiance]. It purifies its target with holy light, cleansing corruption at its core. The roots of the tree were suffering under the weight of the filth it had absorbed. I merely alleviated its burden."

Miko's lips curved into a small, amused smile, her expression one of both surprise and admiration. "Fufu~, you say it's a divine spell as though it's nothing remarkable, like you're merely stating the weather," she said, her tone laced with playful mockery. "But that's no ordinary spell. That's an amazing feat, Momon. Do you even realize the significance of what you've done? It's been a very, very long time since I've seen the Sacred Sakura look so… alive, so healthy, so vibrant. That spell… [Brilliant Radiance, you called it? Where, pray tell, does such power originate?"

Momon hesitated for a moment, the pause heavy with unspoken thoughts. "Its origins don't matter," he said finally. "What matters is that it works."

Miko's smile widened at his evasiveness, her fox-like features taking on a mischievous air. "Ah, a man of secrets," she mused, folding her arms as she shifted her weight elegantly onto one foot. "You intrigue me, Momon. A wandering adventurer from Mondstadt with the power of divine purification at his fingertips… What other surprises are you hiding under that mask of yours?"

Momon said nothing, his crimson eyes locking onto hers for a moment before he turned his gaze back to the Sacred Sakura.

Taking his silence as a challenge, Miko stepped closer, her voice dropping to a soft, almost conspiratorial tone. "You know," she said, "the Sacred Sakura isn't just any tree. It holds a connection to the divine, a tether to Inazuma's very soul. Its purification rituals aren't merely acts of duty; they're a form of worship, a way to maintain balance between us mortals and the greater forces at play."

Momon's fingers twitched slightly at his side, though his voice remained steady. "If that's the case, perhaps this land's connection to the divine is in more trouble than you realize. The filth in its roots… it wasn't natural. It felt… malicious."

Miko's playful demeanor faltered for the briefest moment, her sharp eyes betraying a flicker of concern. "Malicious, you say?" she repeated, her tone suddenly serious.

"Yes," Momon replied firmly. "It wasn't just corruption from the land. Something else had seeped in, something darker. You might want to investigate that."

Miko regarded him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she let out a soft sigh, her smile returning, though it carried a hint of weariness now. "Fufu~, always with the grim warnings, aren't you?" she teased lightly, though her tone lacked its usual playfulness. "Very well, I'll take your words under advisement. After all, you've already proven yourself to be quite… resourceful."

"Good," Momon said simply, stepping away from the tree. "Just don't wait too long."

Miko watched him walk past her, her gaze thoughtful as she tapped a finger to her lips. "Oh, Momon," she called after him, her voice regaining its playful edge. "Do let me know if you ever feel like sharing more of your secrets. I promise I'm an excellent listener. But don't think you can escape so easily, Momon. You've left quite the impression, and I'll be keeping an eye on you." Her eyes glinted mischievously. "A fox never lets her prey wander too far, after all."

Momon didn't respond, his cloak billowing slightly as he continued walking, leaving the shrine maidens and their enigmatic leader staring after him in silent wonder.

Chapter Text

The moon hung high in the sky, casting its silvery glow across Mt. Yougou. The once-treacherous paths leading up the mountain now gleamed faintly under its light, their rough edges smoothed and steps restored. Momon had ensured that the journey would be easier for the next pilgrims, using his magic to repair the broken roads and missing stairs. It was a small gesture, but one that carried weight.

The samurai bandits he had slain earlier were no longer a concern. Through the power of his spell, their lifeless bodies were transformed into high-level undead servants, bound to his will. With a wave of his hand and the utterance of [Gate, he dispatched them to Dragonspine, where the cold would be their new domain.

Descending the mountain, Momon made his way back to the Kamisato Estate. The night was quiet, the air cool and still. As he approached the mansion's outer gate, he paused. His sharp eyes caught sight of Aether and Ayaka in the courtyard, standing close to one another beneath the pale moonlight. Ayaka's delicate smile and Aether's relaxed demeanor spoke volumes. Together, they looked like a pair out of a romantic painting—graceful, serene, and undeniably compatible.

Momon stood in silence, his shadow blending into the darkness as he chose not to interrupt their moment. Paimon, often the chatterbox of their group, was notably absent, leaving the two to bask in the stillness of the night.

Just as Momon turned to leave quietly, a soft voice broke the silence to his right. "Oh my, your companion seems to be having a rather wonderful time."

Momon's eyes narrowed beneath his mask as he turned toward the speaker. There, leaning casually against a tree with her arms crossed, was Yae Miko. Her pink hair shimmered faintly under the moonlight, her fox ears twitching ever so slightly as a sly smile spread across her lips.

"Didn't we just part ways a few hours ago?" Momon asked, his tone flat but laced with curiosity.

"Fufu~, did I not tell you?" Miko replied, her voice smooth and teasing. "A fox never lets her prey wander too far. Consider this… keeping an eye on you."

Momon sighed, crossing his arms beneath his cloak. "That's… That's a strange thing to say,"

"Oh, don't get the wrong idea about me," Miko said with a light laugh, pushing off the tree and walking closer to him. Her steps were deliberate, graceful. "Back at the shrine, we were surrounded by the other maidens. Hardly the place for a candid conversation."

"And this is?" Momon gestured vaguely to the quiet yard, his tone skeptical.

Miko tilted her head, her violet eyes gleaming with mischief. "Why not? The night is peaceful, the moonlight is enchanting, and you seem to be quite the intriguing subject to observe." She glanced toward Aether and Ayaka, her smile turning wry. "Besides, it seems your young friend has his hands full. I wouldn't want to intrude on their moment, would you?"

Momon followed her gaze briefly before looking back at Miko. "No," he admitted. "I wouldn't."

"See?" Miko said, her smile widening as she stepped closer, her presence as commanding as ever. "Now, tell me, Momon… what truly brings an adventurer like you to Inazuma? Surely it's not just for sightseeing or purifying sacred trees."

Momon regarded Yae Miko with an impassive gaze, his tone neutral yet faintly edged with curiosity. "You seem to enjoy meddling in other people's affairs."

Miko's lips curved into a playful smile, her fox-like charm as disarming as ever. "Fufufu~ Meddling? Oh, you wound me, dear adventurer. I'm merely indulging in a bit of harmless conversation. Let's not call it meddling." She turned slightly, her violet eyes gleaming in the moonlight. "Why don't we take a walk to Chinju Forest? The night is still young, and it's the perfect setting for a little chat."

Momon hesitated for a brief moment. He had no pressing matters to attend to for the time being, and despite her enigmatic demeanor, Miko didn't seem hostile. With a slight nod, he agreed, following as she led the way.

The path to Chinju Forest was bathed in the soft glow of fireflies, the occasional rustling of leaves and chirping of crickets adding to the tranquil atmosphere. Miko walked with an effortless elegance, her long pink hair swaying gently with each step. Momon followed silently, his dark figure a stark contrast to her graceful silhouette.

As they moved deeper into the forest, Miko broke the silence, her voice carrying a blend of curiosity and admiration. "The divine magic you used on the Sacred Sakura… it was truly a sight to behold. Divine magic, you say? One doesn't hear of such things every day."

Momon's reply was calm, his tone steady. "Back in the days when battles were a constant reality, I had to master many types of magic to keep my companions alive. Divine magic was one of them."

Miko glanced at him, her fox ears twitching slightly as she considered his words. "Hmm… a warrior and a healer. Quite the combination. And yet, you don't seem like someone who easily fits into any mold. I must admit, it's rare to meet someone with your… unique aura."

Momon's voice was calm, yet there was a weight to his words. "Just so you know, I was never a warrior. I'm actually a magic caster. The warrior thing… I'm still getting the hang of it. But this approach—it's better. It keeps my true appearance hidden."

Yae Miko raised a delicate eyebrow, her violet eyes glinting with intrigue. "Appearance?"

Momon hesitated briefly before answering. "I'm not human."

That revelation made Miko's smile falter for just a moment, her keen mind racing with possibilities. "...Interesting," she finally said, her tone carefully measured. "So that's why you can wield divine magic."

"No, no," Momon corrected, his voice carrying a tinge of exasperation. "I'm not some holy being, far from it. It's actually frustrating that I can't use the full potential of certain divine spells, especially the healing ones."

"Why is that?" Miko pressed, tilting her head slightly as her fox ears twitched in curiosity.

"It's because of Karma—the sense of justice or alignment," Momon explained, his crimson eye sockets glowing faintly under his hood. "I am not human. I lack… feelings. Empathy, compassion—these things are beyond me."

Miko furrowed her brows. "You'll need to elaborate on that. It sounds… complicated."

Momon sighed softly. "Let me put it this way. Take angels, for example. They're holy beings, pure embodiments of good, and they can channel divine and celestial magic at their peak potential. But what happens if an angel tries to cast a demonic spell?"

"They wouldn't be able to use its full power because they're not demons?" Miko ventured, her tone more confident than questioning.

"Exactly," Momon confirmed. "Their Karma—their sense of justice—is too high. Angels are inherently good, so using cruel or malevolent spells wouldn't align with their nature. Demons, on the other hand, have the opposite issue. Their Karma is at the lowest possible point."

Miko's lips curled into a sly smile. "I like how you explain it as though it's all part of some ranking table. What about humans?"

"Humans?" Momon mused, his tone more neutral. "They're mostly in the middle, the neutral zone. Some lean toward the good side, while others lean toward the bad. It ranges from 0 to 200 for good humans, or down to -200 for bad ones."

Miko's laughter was soft and musical. "Oh, so you assign them numbers too? How high do angels go? And demons?"

"500 for angels. -500 for demons," Momon said matter-of-factly. "That's how the Karma system works."

"I see… But earlier, you said you can't use divine spells at their full potential. Does that mean…" Her voice trailed off, her curiosity becoming almost palpable.

Momon paused, then sighed as though resigning himself to her relentless curiosity. "Since you're so persistent…" Slowly, he raised his hands and removed his mask, revealing the stark truth beneath.

The moonlight bathed his skeletal visage in an ethereal glow. A stark white skull, flawless in its form, reflected the pale light. Twin crimson orbs glowed softly in the depths of his eye sockets, their intensity both terrifying and mesmerizing. The aura around him seemed to shift, no longer just mysterious but now undeniably otherworldly.

Miko's eyes widened, and for a rare moment, she seemed at a loss for words. She stared, her breath caught in her throat, before finally whispering, "Momon… you… What exactly are you?"

"I am an undead Overlord," Momon said with a calm that contrasted sharply with his ominous appearance. "The undead are ranked alongside demons. Their Karma is at -500. Most of the undead are mindless monsters consumed by hatred for the living. But a few, like myself, can evolve, becoming intelligent beings."

Miko swallowed, regaining her composure quickly. "So… you're one of those rare few?"

"Yes," Momon replied, his voice steady. "But that doesn't change the fact that my racial instincts still harbor extreme hatred for the living. I could watch countless people perish in an instant and feel nothing. No sorrow, no regret. I lack empathy."

Miko's initial shock gave way to fascination. "That's… impressive."

Momon tilted his skull slightly, as though he were raising an eyebrow. "You think that's impressive?"

Miko stepped closer, her gaze unwavering despite the chill emanating from his presence. "Because I've never seen anyone like you before. While it's true that I felt a little… unnerved by your true self, it doesn't change the fact that you've chosen to use your power for good. You're a hero—a protector of nations."

She lifted a delicate hand and touched the side of his skeletal face, her fingers grazing the cool, smooth bone. Her voice softened. "That makes you far more extraordinary than any ordinary being, don't you think?"

For a moment, silence hung between them, the forest around them alive with the whisper of wind and the soft hum of life. Momon's glowing eyes regarded her, unreadable but unwavering.

"Perhaps," he finally said, his voice as calm and enigmatic as ever. "But what I am and what I do will never truly align. I simply do what needs to be done.

Miko smiled, her hand lingering for a moment before she stepped back. "Fufufu~ That's a noble answer, Momon. You may lack feelings, but you certainly know how to leave an impression."

Momon carefully placed his mask back over his skeletal face, the crimson glow of his eye sockets disappearing behind the dark, imposing visage. His tone was calm but carried a sense of finality. "I trust that you will keep what you've seen tonight a secret."

Miko tilted her head slightly, her usual playful demeanor softening. "Not a word, that's a promise," she said. But then she hesitated, an uncharacteristic seriousness flickering across her features. After a brief pause, she continued, her voice lower. "However… there's something you should know."

Momon regarded her silently, waiting for her to continue.

Miko took a small step closer, her fox-like ears twitching slightly as though attuned to the gravity of the moment. "You've revealed much tonight, and while I am bound by my word, others may not be so understanding. When Raiden Shogun learns about you—and make no mistake, she will—she won't take kindly to your presence."

Momon didn't react immediately, his towering frame remaining still. Finally, he asked, "And why would she see me as a threat?"

Miko sighed softly, her gaze drifting momentarily to the moonlit forest around them. "The Shogun is devoted to her ideal of eternity. Anything or anyone that could disrupt her vision of unchanging order… well, let's just say she has a way of dealing with such threats." She looked back at him, her eyes searching for a reaction. "And you, Momon, are something she would never allow to exist within her domain."

A silence fell between them, broken only by the gentle rustling of leaves in the night breeze. Then, Momon's deep voice cut through the stillness. "Is that right?" He shifted slightly, his crimson gaze now fixed on her. Though hidden behind his mask, Miko could feel the intensity of his words. "Then I will show her that every form of eternity has an end."

Miko's breath hitched for a fraction of a second, though she quickly masked it with a sly smile. "Fufufu~ You certainly know how to make bold statements, don't you?" she said, her tone teasing but edged with genuine concern. "But do you truly believe you can stand against the Raiden Shogun? She's not just a warrior; she is a god. Her resolve is absolute."

Momon's voice didn't waver. "A god is still bound by the same laws of existence as any other being. Her power may be vast, but eternity is an illusion. Nothing lasts forever—not even her."

Miko stared at him, her smile fading slightly as she absorbed his words. There was no arrogance in his tone, no boastfulness. It was simply a statement of fact, delivered with the confidence of someone who had seen the rise and fall of countless beings.

Miko chuckled softly, though there was a hint of melancholy in her tone. "You're a strange one, indeed. But I suppose I can't argue with that logic." She turned, her violet hair catching the moonlight as she took a few steps away. "Still, I hope it doesn't come to that. Clashing with the Raiden Shogun… it would leave Inazuma in ruins."

Miko's gaze lingered on Momon, her expression unreadable but filled with curiosity and a touch of mischief. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts, until she stepped forward, her movements fluid and deliberate.

Before Momon could react, she reached up and removed his mask herself, the cool night air brushing against the exposed bone of his skeletal face.

"What do you think you are doing?" Momon asked, his deep voice tinged with confusion.

Miko's violet eyes locked onto his crimson orbs, her expression soft yet intensely focused. With surprising gentleness, she extended a hand and rested her fingers lightly against the surface of his skull, tracing its contours as if it were the most fragile artifact. "I'm just… fascinated," she murmured. "That you are real."

Momon's crimson eye sockets flickered faintly as he tilted his head. "Huh? So you didn't believe me earlier when I removed my mask?"

Miko chuckled softly, her melodic laughter carrying a playful edge. "Oh, I believed you. But seeing something and truly feeling its presence are two different things. It's like… discovering a rare treasure hidden in plain sight."

Her fingers moved with delicate precision, her touch almost reverent as she examined him up close.

Momon let out a low sigh, a sound that seemed almost like a dry rattle. "You're an odd one, Miko. Few would dare to do what you're doing right now."

"Fufu~ Perhaps that's because most people lack a sense of adventure," Miko replied, her gaze shimmering with amusement. "Or maybe they're too afraid of what they don't understand. But I've always found the unknown to be… exhilarating."

Momon regarded her for a moment, then raised his own hand, his bony fingers moving with calculated precision toward her head. "Are these real, then?" he asked as his fingertips brushed against her fox ears.

Miko's ears twitched slightly at his touch, and her lips curled into a teasing smile. "Fufufu~ Of course they are," she said, her tone dripping with playful confidence.

Momon's skeletal fingers traced the soft fur of her ears, his movements careful as if he were examining an unfamiliar artifact. "Hmph. They seem real enough," he said after a pause.

Miko leaned into his touch slightly, her expression one of amusement. "What's the matter, Momon? Never encountered a kitsune before?"

"I've encountered plenty of strange things in my time," Momon replied evenly, withdrawing his hand. "But you might take the prize for being the most perplexing."

"Perplexing?" Miko repeated with a laugh. "Coming from someone like you, I'll take that as the highest compliment."

As Momon stood in the moonlit clearing with Yae Miko, a sudden jolt of awareness coursed through him. His connection with Ivana, his newly turned vampire servant, had flared to life. The link was chaotic and fractured, filled with echoes of rage and bloodlust. [Blood Frenzy]. She was losing control.

Momon's skeletal hand twitched slightly as he placed a hand on his mask. His crimson orbs dimmed momentarily, as though weighed down by the disturbance. He secured the mask over his face and took a deliberate step back from Miko.

"Apologies, Miko. It seems our little chat must come to an end," he said, his voice steady but tinged with urgency.

Miko tilted her head, her fox ears twitching slightly. Her violet eyes sparkled with curiosity as she stepped closer. "Oh, leaving already? And here I thought I was finally getting to know you better. You've been such an intriguing conversational partner, after all."

Momon's gaze, though hidden behind his mask, was fixed on her. "I've enjoyed our exchange as well," he admitted, his tone softening for a brief moment. "But there's… something I need to handle immediately."

"Something?" Miko repeated, her tone teasing but her expression thoughtful. "Oh my, you do have a habit of keeping secrets, don't you? You're not running away from me, are you?"

Momon shook his head slightly, his crimson gaze flashing faintly behind the mask. "No, this isn't about you. It's something else—a matter that requires my immediate attention."

Miko stepped closer still, her presence almost tangible in the way her aura seemed to envelop him. "Fufufu~ You're a man of many mysteries, Momon. But very well, I won't press you… for now." Her lips curved into a sly smile, though there was a glimmer of genuine curiosity in her gaze.

Momon raised a hand, his skeletal fingers tracing a circle in the air. A dark rift began to open, shimmering faintly with arcane power. The air around them grew colder, the faint hum of magic resonating in the stillness of the forest.

"I'll take my leave now," Momon said firmly. "Goodbye, Miko."

Before she could reply, he vanished into the void, his form dissolving into a swirl of shadow and light.

Miko stood there in the clearing, staring at the spot where he had disappeared. For a brief moment, her expression was one of confusion, her fox ears twitching slightly as if trying to process what had just happened.

Then, she smiled—a slow, deliberate curve of her lips that was equal parts amusement and resolve. Her hand rose to her mouth as she bit her lower lip lightly, her violet eyes narrowing with playful determination.

"Fufufu~ So, you think you can escape me, Momon?" she murmured to herself, her voice a sultry whisper. "You won't slip away so easily next time… I'll make sure of that."

With a faint shimmer of light, her form flickered, dissolving into the shadowy silhouette of a fox. The shape darted gracefully into the forest, vanishing as though she were part of the night itself. The clearing fell silent once more, save for the faint rustle of leaves and the distant call of a nightbird.

The Byakko Plains were cloaked in darkness, the faint glow of the crescent moon casting long shadows over the rolling grasslands. Three figures moved swiftly and silently, their forms barely distinguishable against the night. They were ninjas from the Shuumatsuban, a secretive organization operating under the Yashiro Commission, tasked with gathering intelligence and handling covert operations.

Their mission tonight was a critical one. Recent intelligence had revealed troubling news: Fatui troops had landed on Narukami Island. Though the Tenryou Commission had been anticipating a diplomatic visit from Snezhnaya—led by one of the enigmatic Harbingers—it was clear the Fatui had a much darker agenda. Camps had sprung up across the island, their purpose shrouded in secrecy, and the Shuumatsuban had been dispatched to uncover their plans.

The leader of the group, Hisashi, a tall and composed man with a sharp gaze, gestured for the others to stay low as they approached the edge of a dense thicket. His short black hair and dark attire blended seamlessly with the shadows. Hisashi was a seasoned operative and known for his unyielding focus on the mission.

Behind him was Momoya, a wiry and agile young man with a faint smirk permanently etched on his face. His crimson scarf fluttered lightly as he ran, contrasting with the rest of his dark ensemble. Momoya was the team's strategist, often injecting humor into their otherwise tense missions.

The third was Sayu, a petite girl with a perpetually sleepy expression and a panda-eared hood that bobbed with her movements. Despite her small stature and apparent laziness, she was a capable ninja whose skills rivaled even the most diligent members of the Shuumatsuban. She let out a long yawn as she struggled to keep up with the others.

"We're close," Hisashi said in a hushed tone, his voice barely above a whisper. He crouched low, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of movement.

Sayu groaned, rubbing her eyes with a lazy motion. "Ugh, I was having such a good nap. Now I'm here, running in the dark. This isn't what I signed up for."

Momoya chuckled softly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, come on, Sayu. It's not like being a ninja means sneaking around or anything. Why don't you just carry a blanket next time and roll into the enemy camp?"

Sayu puffed her cheeks in mock annoyance. "Don't tempt me. I'd do it if it meant I could nap in peace."

Hisashi turned and gave them both a sharp look. "Focus, both of you. We're here to gather intel, not debate Sayu's sleeping habits."

Sayu let out a resigned sigh, trudging forward with less enthusiasm. "Fine, fine. But if this mission takes too long, I'm napping on the spot, Fatui or not."

Momoya smirked and leaned in slightly. "You know, if the Fatui catch you napping, they might just pack you up and take you to Snezhnaya as a souvenir."

"Let them try," Sayu retorted with a lazy wave of her hand. "I'll just roll away faster than they can blink."

The group came to an abrupt halt as Momoya's sharp intake of breath caught the attention of his companions.

"Why did you stop?" Hisashi asked, his tone edged with urgency.

Momoya didn't immediately reply. Instead, he crouched low and pointed at something in the grass. "L-look at this…"

Hisashi and Sayu followed his gaze, and their eyes widened in unison. Lying in the grass was a bloodied arm, severed cleanly at the shoulder. The pale moonlight revealed the deep crimson of the blood soaking into the earth, the arm's fingers curled as if frozen in its last desperate grasp. The unmistakable armored gauntlet marked it as belonging to a Fatui Vanguard.

"What… what happened to him?" Momoya's voice trembled slightly, his usual composure shaken by the grisly sight.

"There's no body. Just the arm." Hisashi scanned the surroundings with narrowed eyes, his grip tightening on his blade. "Whatever did this, it wasn't human."

Sayu, her face pale, turned away and hugged herself. "This is… scary! I didn't sign up for a mission with this kind of nightmare." Her voice quivered, and her small form seemed even smaller as she tried to block out the gruesome image.

"Sayu, keep it together," Hisashi said firmly, though his eyes betrayed his unease. "We can't stop now. The mission comes first."

Momoya nodded hesitantly, tearing his gaze away from the severed arm. "Right. We have to figure out what's going on here… but this feels all kinds of wrong."

The three moved forward cautiously, each step more deliberate than the last. The eerie silence of the plains began to give way to a faint crackling noise, and the acrid scent of smoke drifted on the breeze.

When they reached the edge of the cliff overlooking the shore, the scene below sent a chill down their spines. The Fatui camp, once a carefully constructed operation, was in absolute chaos.

Flames consumed several tents, casting flickering orange and red hues across the camp. The scent of burning wood and flesh mingled with the metallic tang of blood. But it wasn't the fire alone that turned their stomachs—it was the carnage.

Bodies lay scattered across the ground, limbs twisted and torn in unnatural directions. Pools of blood shimmered in the firelight, and the air was filled with screams of pain and horror. The scene was one of absolute savagery.

Sayu dropped to her knees, clutching her head. "This… is this a nightmare? Please tell me this is a nightmare!"

"Get a hold of yourself, Sayu," Hisashi said, though even his voice had lost its edge of authority, replaced by a subtle tremor. "We have to observe. Figure out what's going on."

Momoya squinted through the smoke and fire, his breath catching as he spotted movement amidst the chaos. "What the… Look over there!"

The three ninjas focused their attention, and their horror deepened. Six figures moved with inhuman grace among the wreckage—Cicin Mages, their distinctive masks and flowing garments unmistakable even in the dim light. But these weren't the composed and calculating Mages the Shuumatsuban had heard of. These were predators.

The Mages descended upon the injured Fatui soldiers like wolves on wounded prey. Their slender, clawed hands gripped their victims with unnatural strength as they drained their blood with horrifying efficiency. The sound of desperate gasps and gurgles filled the air as the victims' bodies went limp, their lifeblood stolen.

"Th-they're draining their own troops…" Momoya stammered, his hand instinctively tightening around his kunai. "This is madness!"

Sayu's trembling hands clutched at her hood, pulling it tightly over her head as if it could shield her from the sight. "They're monsters. Actual monsters…"

The flickering firelight of the burning camp cast long shadows over the desolate landscape, painting a scene of utter despair and savagery. Amidst the chaos, another horrific tableau began to unfold as a figure emerged from the smoke and ash—a Cicin Mage dragging a struggling Mirror Maiden by her hair.

"No! Please, no! I'm sorry!" the Mirror Maiden screamed, her voice raw with desperation. Her once-pristine attire was tattered, and her mask had been ripped away, revealing a face contorted in terror.

The Cicin Mage holding her captive was not like the others. This one exuded an aura of raw power and malice that seemed to warp the very air around her. Her once-human features were now twisted into something otherworldly. Crimson eyes burned like molten rubies, and her lips and chin were smeared with the blood of her victims.

This was Ivana. No longer an ordinary Cicin Mage, she had ascended—or perhaps descended—into something far more dangerous: a Blood Empress. Transformed by the dark will of her master, she had been unleashed upon the Fatui with a singular purpose: destruction.

The Mirror Maiden clawed at Ivana's grip, her nails scraping helplessly against the iron-like strength of her captor's hand. "Please, I beg you! I was scared! I didn't mean to betray anyone! I… I didn't know what else to do!"

Ivana's voice was a low, guttural growl, laced with venom. "You thought you could escape, didn't you?" She lifted the Mirror Maiden effortlessly by her hair, her sharp nails glinting like daggers. "You thought you could abandon us and walk away unscathed?"

"I was scared! I didn't know what else to do!" the Mirror Maiden sobbed, tears streaming down her face. Her legs dangled uselessly, kicking in a futile attempt to free herself.

Ivana's lips curled into a feral snarl, revealing elongated fangs. "Scared? We were all scared! But you… you didn't just run. You left me to die. You left all of us to die!"

The Mirror Maiden's pleas grew more frantic, her voice cracking under the weight of her terror. "Please, forgive me! I'll do anything! Just don't kill me!"

"Forgiveness?" Ivana's laugh was cold and hollow, a sound devoid of humanity. "Forgiveness is a luxury I no longer afford." Her grip tightened, eliciting a cry of pain from the Mirror Maiden. "You don't deserve mercy. You deserve to suffer."

Ivana's crimson eyes seemed to glow brighter as she leaned in close, her voice a sinister whisper. "And suffer you shall."

The Mirror Maiden screamed as Ivana's clawed hand slashed across her neck, silencing her pleas. Blood sprayed in a crimson arc, and Ivana wasted no time. She sank her fangs into the wound, drinking deeply.

The Maiden's struggles grew weaker with each passing second, her hands flailing before falling limp at her sides. Her wide, tear-filled eyes stared blankly at the night sky, the life fading from them as Ivana drained her completely.

The scene was horrifying—a grotesque display of power and vengeance. Ivana's blood-soaked visage was framed by the chaos of the burning camp, her transformation into a monster fully realized.

She let the lifeless body of the Mirror Maiden drop to the ground like a discarded rag doll, her chest rising and falling heavily as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

Ivana looked around at the carnage she and her new servants had wrought. The fires raged, the screams of the dying faded into the night, and the camp lay in ruins. Her crimson eyes narrowed as a twisted smile spread across her face.

The three ninjas crouched low in the bushes, their breaths shallow and their bodies trembling as they watched the unspeakable horror unfold before them. The monstrous creatures fed with savage glee, tearing through their victims like wolves among sheep. Momoya, Hisashi, and Sayu could hardly believe their eyes.

Momoya's voice quivered as he whispered, "We... We must leave… right now. There's nothing we can do here."

But before they could act, the air around them grew heavier, colder. A shadow loomed over them.

Emerging from the darkness was Ivana, her bloodstained smile curling wickedly as her crimson eyes bore into their very souls. Her presence was suffocating, her aura radiating a chilling power.

"Well, what do we have here?" Ivana cooed, her voice dripping with malice. "Fresh blood bags, delivered right to me. How thoughtful."

Momoya's instincts kicked in as fear seized his heart. "RUN! RUUU—"

His words were cut short, replaced by a sickening, wet crunch. Ivana's clawed hand shot forward, piercing the back of Momoya's skull. Her hand emerged grotesquely from his mouth, slick with blood. His lifeless body slumped to the ground, leaving Hisashi and Sayu frozen in abject horror.

"RUN!" Hisashi roared, snapping Sayu out of her trance.

The two ninjas bolted, their training as swift-footed Shuumatsuban agents taking over. The terror fueled their movements, pushing them to run faster than they had ever run in their lives.

But the plains offered little sanctuary.

Hisashi's luck ran out as two vampire Cicin Mages materialized in front of him with inhuman speed. Their hands shot out like vipers, grabbing him before he could react.

"GO, SAYU! RUN! ESCAPE!" Hisashi's voice was a desperate plea as the vampires descended upon him, their fangs sinking into his neck.

Sayu skidded to a halt, her mind warring between the urge to flee and the guilt of leaving her comrade behind.

"This can't be real!" she whispered, her voice trembling. "This can't be real!"

Her eyes widened as she saw the life drain from Hisashi's body, his screams fading into the night. Overcome with terror, Sayu turned and bolted, tears streaming down her face. She used her Fuufuu Windwheel technique, rolling across the plains like a blur.

But no matter how fast she moved, the nightmare wasn't over.

She collided into something—or someone—with the force of hitting solid rock. Sayu tumbled to the ground, her vision spinning. She clutched her head, trying to recover, but the icy grip of fear froze her once more as she looked up.

It was Ivana.

The vampire towered over her, her crimson eyes glowing like two malevolent suns. Her fanged grin widened as she crouched down, leaning closer to Sayu's face.

"You're quite fast for such a little thing," Ivana purred. "But not fast enough. Now, look at me, child."

Sayu felt herself drawn to those hypnotic eyes, unable to tear her gaze away. Her mind grew foggy, her limbs heavy. Before she could process what was happening, her consciousness slipped away like a faint whisper in the wind.

Ivana let out a low, sinister chuckle. "Hehehe. Since you're just a child, I'll make this quick. No pain, no fear. Sweet dreams, little one. Can't have you running off to tell tales of my master's work."

She reached down, gripping Sayu's limp form. Her fangs glistened as she prepared to bite.

But before she could sink them into the girl's neck, a voice rang out, sharp and commanding.

"The hell are you doing?"

The voice cut through the night like a blade, sharp and commanding.

Ivana froze, her predatory instincts overridden by the familiar, chilling tone. She lifted her head, her crimson eyes meeting the imposing figure of her master.

Momon stood before her, his dark robe billowing slightly in the wind. His mask concealed his skeletal face, but his aura was unmistakable—an oppressive force that made even Ivana, a Blood Empress, feel like a mere insect.

"Master…" Ivana began, but her words were silenced by the sound of a sharp crack.

Momon's hand moved with blinding speed, delivering a brutal slap across Ivana's face. The force sent her sprawling, blood trickling from the corner of her lips.

"You dare disobey me?" Momon's voice was low and cold, each word carrying the weight of his fury. "You are to follow my orders, not act on your own impulses like a mindless beast."

Ivana scrambled to her knees, bowing her head low. "Master, I—I didn't mean to—"

"Silence." Momon's tone brooked no argument. He turned his gaze to Sayu's unconscious form, his eyes narrowing. "You were about to kill a child. A wasteful, reckless act."

The six vampiric Cicin Mages knelt behind Momon, their once-eerie arrogance now replaced with palpable fear. Their crimson eyes flicked nervously between each other, unsure of what their master's wrath might entail. The air around them was thick with tension, and the flames of the ruined camp flickered ominously, casting grotesque shadows across the ground.

Momon's gaze was a tempest of fury beneath his dark mask. He turned his attention to Ivana, who remained bowed before him, her hands trembling slightly as they rested on the blood-soaked grass.

His voice was calm, but the undertone was colder than the grave. "Who… gave you permission to create more vampires?"

Ivana's head shot up, her crimson eyes wide with panic. "M-my lord, I—"

"Answer me." Momon's words cut through her stammering like a blade.

Ivana swallowed hard, her throat dry despite the blood she had consumed. "I… I only wanted to complete the mission as quickly as possible, my lord! I swear on my unlife, it was done with the best of intentions!"

Momon's silent, measured steps toward her were louder than any shouted reprimand. Each footfall crushed the brittle grass beneath him, and the oppressive aura he exuded made Ivana's vampiric servants bow their heads even lower.

When he reached her, his hand shot out like lightning, grabbing Ivana's face. His iron grip held her firm as he yanked her upright, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"You dare to defy me?" Momon growled, his deep voice reverberating through the night.

With his free hand, he slowly removed his mask. The moment his skeletal visage was revealed, the six Cicin Mages flinched, their bodies trembling under the weight of his presence. His hollow eye sockets burned with an ethereal, menacing glow, and the bare bones of his skull reflected the fiery carnage around them.

Ivana, her crimson eyes locked onto his skeletal face, whimpered involuntarily. The sheer malevolence emanating from her master's exposed form crushed her pride and courage in an instant.

"You think my gift—my power—is something to squander on your petty whims?" Momon hissed, his voice like the grinding of ancient tombstones. His grip on her face tightened, the claws of his gauntlet biting into her flesh.

Ivana tried to shake her head, but his hold made it impossible. "No, my lord! I didn't mean—"

"You wanted the others to do the job for you," Momon interrupted, his voice dripping with disdain. "Not to complete the mission. Not to serve my will. But because you wanted to flex your newfound power. To bask in your delusions of grandeur."

"I—" Ivana stammered, her voice faltering as her mind scrambled for an explanation.

Momon leaned in closer, the flickering firelight reflecting in the hollows of his eyes. "Do not dare take my gift for granted, you imbecile," he snarled, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of authority. "Do you understand what you've done?"

Ivana's lips trembled as tears of blood welled in her crimson eyes. "I was only trying to—"

Momon's grip shifted slightly, cutting off her words. "Silence. You have turned these pitiful creatures into vampires, creatures bound to my dominion, without my consent. Their very existence is a stain on my name, and that is a debt you will pay."

He released her abruptly, letting her fall to her knees like a broken doll. She clutched her face, gasping for breath she no longer truly needed, her body trembling in fear.

Momon turned his hollow gaze to the six vampire Cicin Mages, who dared not even lift their eyes from the ground. "As for the rest of you," he said, his voice a low growl, "you exist only because I permit it. Remember that. Fail me, and your pitiful existence will be snuffed out without hesitation."

The six Cicin Mages murmured their obedience, their voices barely audible.

Momon turned back to Ivana, towering over her crumpled form. His tone softened, but the threat in his words remained unmistakable. "You are fortunate that I value efficiency, Ivana. But if you ever act without my permission again, I will strip you of the very power you so arrogantly flaunt. And this time, there will be no mercy."

Ivana bowed her head so low it nearly touched the ground. "Thank you, my lord. I swear, I will not disappoint you again."

Momon replaced his mask, his form once again cloaked in shadow. "If you ever forget your place again, it will be your last."

Momon stood over the small, unconscious figure of Sayu, her small body curled up on the blood-stained grass. Despite her being a ninja, trained to endure the harshness of the world, she was still just a child—terrified beyond comprehension by the horrors she had witnessed tonight.

His skeletal form exuded an air of contemplation as he reached down, removing his gauntlet with deliberate care. The metal of the gauntlet gleamed faintly in the flickering flames of the ruined camp before he set it aside. His bare, bony hand emanated a faint ethereal glow as he prepared to cast the spell.

"[Control Amnesia," he muttered, his voice low and measured.

This was the first time Momon had cast such a delicate spell, one that required absolute precision. His mastery over magic was unparalleled, but even he knew that tampering with memories was a treacherous endeavor. The mind was a fragile labyrinth, and a single misstep could shatter it beyond repair.

He knelt beside Sayu, his glowing hand hovering just above her forehead. A faint, shimmering aura enveloped her head as the spell took hold. Her breathing slowed, her body relaxing further as Momon delved into her memories.

Images and sensations began to surface—fragments of the night's events. Through her memories, Momon saw flashes of the bloodied arm in the grass, the burning Fatui camp, the horrifying scenes of carnage, and Ivana's terrifying presence. Her two comrades, Momoya and Hisashi, were also there—each memory drenched in fear and despair.

Momon's voice softened, almost as though he were speaking to the memories themselves. "Such chaos… such fear. You are far too young to carry this burden."

With great care, he began isolating the memories tied to the vampires—the blood-soaked frenzy, Ivana's crimson eyes, and the screams of the Fatui soldiers as they were drained of life. He left only vague impressions: the fear of a dangerous night, the sound of distant screams, and the flames that consumed the camp.

As the spell worked, Momon's magical energy pulsed gently, flowing into Sayu's mind like a calming tide. He ensured the memories of her comrades' demise were softened—turned into unclear moments of loss rather than vivid nightmares. The details of Ivana's terror, her vampiric transformation, and the horrifying assault were carefully wiped away.

The process was slow and meticulous. Momon's skeletal hand trembled slightly, not from fatigue but from the weight of responsibility. "You will remember enough to learn caution, but not enough to cripple you," he murmured, his hollow voice echoing faintly.

When he was satisfied, he lifted his hand, and the shimmering aura around Sayu's head faded. He studied her for a moment, ensuring no damage had been done. Her breathing remained steady, and her face, though pale, had lost some of its earlier tension.

Momon slipped his gauntlet back on, rising to his full height. "You will wake, child, but this nightmare will not haunt you as it once would have."

He turned to the six Cicin Mages who remained kneeling behind him. "Clean this place thoroughly. Leave no evidence of our presence here."

"Yes, my lord," they replied in unison, their voices trembling with both fear and reverence.

Chapter Text

The morning sun filtered through the shoji screens of the traditional Inazuman house, casting soft beams of light across the polished wooden floor. Inside, the air was thick with tension. The low hum of distant city life was drowned out by the sharp rustle of papers as Signora, the harbinger of Snezhnaya's Fatui, sat rigid at her desk. Her gloved hands gripped the edges of a report, and her piercing crimson eyes scanned its contents with growing fury.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her usual icy composure cracking under the weight of the grim news. The ornate red and black Fatui insignia on her uniform gleamed faintly under the light, a stark contrast to the cold, seething hatred reflected in her gaze.

"This… This is insane," Signora muttered, her voice low and venomous as her eyes scanned the reports again. Her perfectly manicured nails tapped against the desk with a sharp, rhythmic clatter, betraying her growing frustration.

Standing to her left was a young Fatui assistant, rigid as a board and trembling slightly under the suffocating tension that filled the room. She wore a standard uniform, her hat tucked under her arm, and her eyes darted nervously between the floor and her superior. The assistant's pale complexion betrayed her unease, but she dared not falter in her report.

"My Lady…" the assistant began hesitantly, her voice wavering as Signora snapped her head toward her, eyes burning with icy fury.

"Seven camps," Signora hissed, her tone laced with disbelief and rage. She slammed one of the reports down on the desk, her strength making the papers scatter. "Seven of our camps wiped out in a single night? Not a single one left standing?"

The assistant gulped audibly, her hands clutching her hat tightly. "It is very true, my Lady. I… I was there when we arrived at the aftermath. All seven camps were burned to the ground."

Signora's glare intensified as she leaned back in her chair, her gloved fingers steepled beneath her chin. The air in the room grew colder, the assistant shivering slightly under the sudden drop in temperature.

"No survivors…" Signora murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. It wasn't a question—it was a chilling realization that deepened the crease between her brows.

"N-No, my Lady," the assistant stammered, her voice cracking slightly as she stepped forward. "Not just that… There were no bodies either. Only limbs. Some of the remains we found were meters away from the camps, as if… as if they had tried to run but were hunted down."

"Hunted," Signora repeated coldly, her tone sharp and biting. Her piercing gaze bore into the assistant, who shrank back slightly. "Are you saying this was not the work of the locals or those pitiful samurai of the Tenryou Commission?"

The assistant shook her head frantically. "No, my Lady. This… this was something else entirely. The brutality… it was unlike anything I've seen before."

Signora's lips curled into a sneer, her anger flaring like a wildfire. She stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the wooden floor as she loomed over the desk. Her long cloak billowed slightly, the air around her growing even colder.

"Seven camps, hundreds of troops, wiped out overnight." She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as her voice rose. "Do you have any idea what this means? What this embarrassment will do to our standing in Inazuma? The Shogun will think us weak, and our enemies will grow bold!"

The assistant trembled, lowering her head. "M-My Lady, we are investigating further."

The sound of the shoji doors sliding open broke the tense silence that hung over the room. Signora didn't bother to look up; her glare was fixed on the reports in front of her, and her fury was practically radiating off her like waves of heat. But the voice that followed was unmistakable—a smooth, almost mocking tone that carried with it a hint of amusement.

"Getting mad at your subordinates for no reason again, Signora? My, what an inspiring leader you are."

Signora's crimson eyes darted up sharply, narrowing as Childe strode into the room with his characteristic swagger. His usual smirk played on his lips, his blue eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and subtle challenge. Dressed in his sleek Harbinger uniform, the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger looked far too casual for the dire situation at hand.

"This is serious!" Signora snapped, slamming her gloved hand onto the desk with enough force to rattle the papers scattered across it. "Seven camps—seven, Childe—wiped out overnight. No survivors, no bodies. Just limbs and ash. Do you understand what this means?"

Childe chuckled, waving a hand dismissively as he leaned casually against the doorframe. "Oh, I understand perfectly. Several camps annihilated, no survivors to tell the tale… Hmm, now where have we heard something like this before?"

Signora's glare hardened, her voice dropping to a deadly tone. "If you have a point to make, Childe, then make it."

Childe pushed off the doorframe and began to walk leisurely toward the desk, his boots clicking softly against the wooden floor. "I'm just saying," he continued, his tone infuriatingly calm, "doesn't this sound an awful lot like what happened in Dragonspine?"

At that, Signora froze. Her fingers, which had been drumming impatiently on the desk, stilled as her gaze locked onto Childe. "Are you suggesting…"

"Yes," Childe said, his smirk widening slightly. "All those Fatui troops who vanished in Dragonspine without a trace. No supplies, no reinforcements, nothing comes in, nothing comes out. Sound familiar?"

"That land…" Signora's voice trailed off, her expression darkening. "That cursed land is under the domain of that monster."

"Exactly," Childe said, spreading his arms in a theatrical gesture. "And now we have troops disappearing in Inazuma in much the same way. Camps burned to the ground, soldiers hunted like prey, no bodies left behind. If I didn't know any better, I'd say this has that monster's name written all over it."

Signora's jaw tightened as she processed his words. The implications were chilling, but the possibility was too glaring to ignore. "You're saying…"

"That monster," Childe interrupted, his tone growing more serious as he folded his arms across his chest. "Momon. He's here in Inazuma right now. Isn't he?"

Signora stiffened, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "You think this is his doing? That he's behind the annihilation of our troops?"

"Of course," Childe said without hesitation. His smirk returned, but there was no humor in his eyes as he pointed directly at her. "And do you want to know why? Because you, Signora, gave the orders to send troops after him and Aether."

Signora's lips curled into a sneer, her crimson gaze blazing as she rose from her chair. "Oh, so now it's all my fault? Is that what you're saying, Childe?"

Childe shrugged, his expression unapologetic. "I'm saying you should take responsibility for your actions. You knew he was dangerous, didn't you? You knew what he did in Liyue, what he's capable of, and you still sent soldiers after him like they were nothing more than cannon fodder."

Signora stepped around the desk, closing the distance between them in a few sharp, deliberate strides. The air around her grew heavy, a subtle heat radiating from her as her fury threatened to ignite.

"You're one to talk about taking responsibility," she said coldly, her voice dripping with venom. "Don't think I've forgotten your little escapades in Liyue. Or do I need to remind you of the mess you left behind with the Traveler and the Geo Archon?"

Childe's smirk faltered for just a moment before he recovered, his tone laced with mock indignation. "Oh, come on, Signora. That's ancient history. Besides, I'm not the one losing troops left and right in Inazuma."

Signora's eyes flashed dangerously, but before she could retort, Childe held up a hand, his expression growing more serious. "Look, I'm not here to fight with you. We both know this isn't just about you or me. With Momon in Inazuma, then we have a much bigger problem on our hands. And if we don't deal with it soon, the Fatui's reputation is going to be in shambles."

Signora stared at him for a long moment, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. Finally, she let out a sharp exhale, her gaze shifting back to the reports on the desk. "Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "We'll deal with him. But if this goes wrong, Childe, I'll make sure you regret every word you've said to me today."

Childe chuckled, his smirk returning as he turned toward the door. "Wouldn't expect anything less from you, Signora. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some preparations to make. Let's see how long this monster can keep playing his little game."

The heavy tension in the room seemed to thicken as the sound of boots echoed down the hallway. Signora and Childe both turned toward the shoji doors, their expressions shifting to confusion and unease as the doors slid open, revealing a figure flanked by four Fatui troops. His presence was as unmistakable as it was unwelcome—his hat casting a shadow over his sharp features, his smirk carrying a mix of arrogance and disdain.

"Scaramouche?" Signora's voice dripped with surprise and irritation, her crimson eyes narrowing as she glared at the newcomer.

The Balladeer stepped into the room with an air of casual confidence, his hands tucked into his sleeves as he strolled past the Fatui soldiers who stood stiffly at attention behind him. His gaze flicked between Signora and Childe, and a mocking smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Three Harbingers in one place," Scaramouche said, his voice smooth and laced with sarcasm. "Now, that's a sight you don't see every day. Though I have to say, it's rarely a good thing."

Childe straightened, his casual demeanor giving way to mild annoyance. "What are you doing here in Inazuma, Scaramouche? Shouldn't you be off scheming somewhere else?"

Scaramouche didn't even bother to glance at him, his smirk widening as he walked further into the room. "Scheming, you say? If anyone here is guilty of that, it's you, Childe. But let's not waste time with petty accusations. I've come to take this operation into my own hands."

"Take the operation?" Signora repeated, her voice sharp with disbelief. "Since when does the Balladeer concern himself with matters outside his jurisdiction?"

Scaramouche finally stopped, turning to face them fully. His gaze was cold and calculating, his smirk now replaced with a faint scowl of authority. "The Tsaritsa has entrusted me with the task of ensuring the success of this mission. And that includes securing the Gnosis. You two have done nothing but fumble around and waste resources. It's time someone competent stepped in."

Childe laughed, though there was no humor in it. "Competent, huh? Says the guy who spent how long chasing after old relics in the desert? You can't just walk in here and take all the credit for work you didn't do."

Scaramouche's eyes flicked to Childe, his expression cold and dismissive. "Credit? Don't make me laugh, Childe. The only thing you care about is playing the hero and basking in the Tsaritsa's praise. You're as transparent as a child with a toy sword."

"And you're not?" Signora interjected, her voice dripping with venom. She stepped forward, her crimson gaze locking onto Scaramouche's with searing intensity. "You're just as desperate for the Tsaritsa's favor as the rest of us. Don't pretend you're above it."

Scaramouche's smirk returned, sharper and more venomous than before. "Oh, Signora. Unlike you, I don't grovel for scraps of praise. My actions speak for themselves. And right now, my actions are going to secure the Gnosis and clean up the mess you two have made here in Inazuma."

Signora's fists clenched at her sides, her fiery aura beginning to rise as her temper flared. "You arrogant little—"

"Enough," Scaramouche interrupted, his tone icy as he raised a hand to silence her. "The two of you have done nothing but squabble and point fingers while our forces are being slaughtered. Seven camps burned to the ground, no survivors. And instead of taking decisive action, you're here arguing like spoiled children."

Childe's grin faded, replaced by a more serious expression. "And what's your grand plan, then? Wipe out the monster behind this all by yourself?"

Scaramouche tilted his head slightly, his smirk taking on a sinister edge. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I'll do what neither of you seem capable of—thinking. Whoever's behind this carnage clearly isn't an ordinary enemy. Charging in blindly, as you love to do, Childe, will only get more of our men killed."

"And what about the Gnosis?" Signora asked, her voice biting. "You think you'll just waltz in and take it, ignoring the groundwork I've already laid here?"

"The groundwork?" Scaramouche sneered, stepping closer to her. "You mean the failures? You let the Traveler slip through your fingers, failed to deal with Momon, and now you're floundering because you've lost control. The Tsaritsa won't be pleased, Signora."

Signora's aura flared again, heat radiating from her as the room seemed to grow heavier. "Watch your tongue, Scaramouche. You're treading on dangerous ground."

"And yet," Scaramouche said, leaning in slightly, his voice low and mocking, "it's ground you can't seem to stand on."

Childe stepped between them, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "Alright, alright, let's all calm down before someone sets the place on fire—literally. As much as I hate to say it, Scaramouche does have a point. This situation is spiraling out of control, and we need to get a handle on it. Fighting each other won't solve anything."

Scaramouche straightened, his smirk returning as he stepped back. "For once, Childe, you've said something useful. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have plans to put into motion. Try not to get in my way."

The tension in the room surged like a gathering storm as Signora's voice rang out, her fiery determination cutting through the uneasy silence. "I will be the one to take the Gnosis for Her Majesty the Tsaritsa!" she declared, her tone unwavering and full of conviction.

Scaramouche, who had been striding toward the exit, stopped in his tracks. His steps slowed, and the faint echo of his boots on the wooden floor lingered in the air. Without turning his head, he allowed a moment of silence to stretch, his very presence exuding a simmering disdain. Slowly, he pivoted on his heel, his hat casting a shadow over his sharp, angular features. His gaze, cold and calculating, locked onto Signora.

"You?" he began, his voice dripping with mockery and derision. "You're going to take the Gnosis?" He chuckled softly, though there was no humor in the sound. "How bold of you, Signora, to think you stand a chance in the domain of the Thunder God."

Signora's crimson eyes flared with heat as she straightened herself, the air around her seemingly growing warmer with her rising temper. "Unlike you, Scaramouche," she spat his name as if it were venom on her tongue, "I am not afraid of the Raiden Shogun. Her Majesty has entrusted me with this mission, and I will see it through."

At this, Scaramouche's mocking grin faltered, his expression darkening. He took a step closer, the atmosphere in the room growing heavy with a palpable sense of unease. "You really are as blind as you are arrogant," he said, his voice soft but laced with venom. "You're not dealing with the God of Contracts here, Signora. This isn't Liyue, where negotiations and trade agreements hold sway. This is Inazuma—her realm. The Raiden Shogun doesn't honor contracts. She doesn't bargain or compromise."

The room fell silent as Signora's voice sliced through the tension like a blade. Her crimson eyes blazed with determination as she declared, "I don't care how mighty the Raiden Shogun is! When her Majesty the Tsaritsa is the greatest of them all, none of it matters. I will retrieve the Gnosis myself, no matter what stands in my way."

Scaramouche, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, let out a dry chuckle, tipping his hat slightly to shadow his smug grin. "Well, by all means, go ahead," he said, his voice dripping with mock indifference. "It's not like the Gnosis is in her possession anymore, anyway."

Both Signora and Childe froze, their attention snapping toward him. "What did you just say?" Signora demanded, her voice sharp and tinged with disbelief.

Childe, standing with his arms crossed, raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Care to elaborate, Scara?"

Scaramouche straightened, his smirk deepening as he reveled in the dramatic effect of his revelation. "I learned a long time ago that the Raiden Shogun entrusted the Gnosis to a… friend," he said, pacing toward the center of the room with a deliberate slowness that made every word hang heavy in the air. "But, as you know, most of her old friends are long gone. All except one."

He stopped by the window, his gaze shifting toward the distant silhouette of Mt. Yougou, where the Grand Narukami Shrine stood cloaked in mist. The faint glow of the setting sun illuminated his face as he pointed toward the sacred mountain. "That kitsune… Yae Miko."

The corners of his mouth twisted into a sly smile, and his voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone. "Yes, the esteemed Guuji Yae is in possession of the Gnosis. It's tucked away safely in her grasp, far from the Shogun's ironclad rule."

Signora's eyes widened in a rare moment of surprise, quickly followed by a flare of anger. "Guuji Yae?" she hissed. "You're telling me the Raiden Shogun handed something as valuable as the Gnosis to her? That conniving fox?"

Scaramouche shrugged, the epitome of nonchalance. "Don't act so shocked, Signora. You should know by now that the Raiden Shogun isn't exactly predictable. The Gnosis is in Yae Miko's hands, and frankly, I don't care how that makes you feel."

Signora's fists clenched at her sides as her mind raced. If this information was true, it complicated everything. The mission had suddenly shifted, and now Scaramouche had the upper hand in a way that infuriated her. She opened her mouth to retort, but Childe stepped forward, raising a hand to diffuse the brewing tension.

"Whoa, let's take it easy here," Childe said, his tone light but firm. "No need to get all heated, folks. If Scara's got the intel, we should work together. No sense in tripping over each other to get to Yae Miko, right?"

"Work together?" Scaramouche scoffed, narrowing his eyes at Childe. "Don't make me laugh. I don't need you or her getting in my way. This mission is mine."

"Yours?" Signora snapped, her voice dripping with venom. "Don't forget, puppet, that you wouldn't even know about the Gnosis if it weren't for us collecting intel. You're not taking all the credit for this."

"Oh, please," Scaramouche sneered, stepping closer to Signora until they were face to face. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "The only thing you're good at is getting in over your head. Stay out of my way, or I'll make sure you regret it."

Signora's Cryo energy began to crackle faintly in the air, the room temperature dropping as she glared at him. "Watch your tone, Scaramouche," she warned, her voice icy. "You may be a Harbinger, but so am I. Don't think you can intimidate me."

Before the tension could explode, Childe clapped his hands loudly, cutting through the hostile air. "Alright, enough!" he said, stepping between them. "This is getting us nowhere. If Yae Miko has the Gnosis, we're better off pooling our resources than fighting each other. Let's just focus on the task at hand."

Signora took a deep breath, her frosty demeanor softening just enough to signal that she wouldn't escalate further—for now. "Fine," she said curtly, glaring at Scaramouche. "But we're coming with you. And don't even think about rejecting us. This is an order from the Tsaritsa herself."

Scaramouche clicked his tongue in irritation, spinning on his heel to avoid looking at either of them. "Tch. Fine," he muttered. "But don't slow me down, and don't get in my way. This mission is mine, and I won't have you idiots ruining it."

The morning sun bathed the Kamisato Estate in a golden glow, the soft light filtering through the surrounding sakura trees and casting playful shadows over the cobblestone paths. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers and morning dew, yet the tranquil beauty of the estate did little to calm Momon's restless mind. He returned with slow, purposeful strides, his presence commanding yet eerily silent, as though the very air grew heavy in his wake. His crimson cape trailed behind him, fluttering faintly in the breeze.

Momon had spent the early hours overseeing the aftermath of the mission. The Fatui camps, once symbols of power and defiance, were now nothing but smoldering ruins. His vampire servant had executed the clean-up with meticulous efficiency, ensuring no trace of their involvement remained. The enemy's arrogance had been met with ruthless precision—a message that could not be ignored.

But the aftermath weighed on him for another reason. The little ninja girl, Sayu, had been a complication he hadn't anticipated. She had stumbled upon the scene, an unwitting witness to the chaos. Momon had no choice but to erase her memory, ensuring she wouldn't recall the horror she had seen or the existence of the vampires involved. He had left her in Chinju Forest under the watchful eye of one of his servants, hoping she would awaken with no lingering effects. Though he was confident in the spell's efficacy, the thought of something going awry nagged at the edges of his mind. Sayu's innate laziness might have shielded her from danger so far, but the forest was no safe haven, especially with the Fatui lurking nearby.

As his thoughts turned to his trusted servant, Ivana, his expression darkened. Once a formidable Cicin Mage, she had been a valuable asset in the Fatui's ranks before her transformation. Momon had considered leveraging her past connections to infiltrate their organization, but her vampiric transformation had severed her ties to her old powers. The Magic Tier system that governed her new abilities was an entirely different construct, rendering Visions or Delusions incompatible with her vampiric nature. Ivana was still skilled, her vampiric abilities far surpassing her former self in raw power, but without her previous expertise, she was no longer the ideal candidate for such a delicate mission.

Momon weighed the risk carefully. Could she truly pass unnoticed in the shadowy halls of the Fatui, where cunning and suspicion reigned supreme? The answer was clear: he couldn't afford another gamble, not when the stakes were this high. His enemies were growing bold, and any misstep could tip the scales against him.

His crimson eyes narrowed as he considered the Harbinger rumored to be in Inazuma. This wasn't just a diplomatic visit, and the Fatui's recent aggression had made their intentions unmistakable. The camps, the sudden attacks, and their boldness in sending troops after him—it all pointed to a declaration of war. Momon's hand tightened into a fist, his resolve hardening.

The Fatui had underestimated him, believing they could challenge his authority and survive the consequences. That was their gravest mistake. If the Harbinger believed themselves untouchable, Momon would ensure they learned otherwise. There would be no mercy this time, no negotiation. War had been declared, and Momon would meet it with a storm of vengeance that would leave no doubt about his power.

The peaceful morning at the Kamisato Estate was shattered when Momon, still standing near the estate's entrance, noticed Ayaka rushing out of the mansion. Her usually composed demeanor was gone, replaced by a look of deep concern. Behind her, Paimon flitted frantically, her high-pitched voice cutting through the serene air.

"Momon!" Paimon called out, her tiny form darting toward him. "We've got trouble!"

Momon turned sharply, his crimson eyes narrowing at their distressed expressions. "What happened?" he asked, his voice steady but edged with urgency.

Paimon practically yelled, her hands waving dramatically, "Aether and Thoma got arrested by the Tenryou Commission!"

"What?" Momon's tone darkened instantly, the weight of the words sinking in. "Why would they—"

"It was Kujou Sara," Ayaka interrupted, her voice trembling slightly but still carrying her usual poise. "She led a squad of the Tenryou Commission. There were too many of them… Aether and Thoma didn't stand a chance."

"I swear, we tried!" Paimon added desperately. "But Aether told me to find you instead of following them. He said you'd know what to do."

Momon clenched his fists, his mind already racing through possible scenarios. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath. He knew Aether wouldn't have asked for help unless the situation was dire. "I should have been here…"

Ayaka stepped closer, her voice steady despite the worry etched on her face. "There's more. Today is a grand ceremony in Inazuma City, hosted by the Tenryou Commission. They have confiscated ninety-nine Visions as a demonstration of their authority. Thoma's Vision… it happens to be the one hundredth."

Momon's expression grew colder. "A public spectacle," he said, his tone laced with disgust. "They want to make an example of him."

Ayaka nodded, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "I fear they'll use this ceremony to solidify their control. If you go, please be careful. Kujou Sara is a formidable warrior and deeply loyal to the Raiden Shogun."

Momon's gaze softened slightly as he looked at Ayaka, but the determination in his eyes remained unwavering. "I'll bring them back," he said firmly. "No matter what."

Ayaka reached out, her fingers lightly brushing his sleeve. "Be careful, Momon," she whispered. "Please."

Momon nodded, then turned away, his dark cloak sweeping dramatically behind him. His eyes gleamed as he extended a hand, activating his flight ability. The air around him shimmered faintly as he lifted off the ground, his powerful figure ascending effortlessly.

"Wait! Hey, wait for me!" Paimon shouted, flailing her arms as she tried to catch up.

Ayaka watched them disappear into the horizon, her hands clasped tightly over her chest. The morning sun reflected off her pale hair, but her usual calm was overshadowed by the worry etched on her face. "Please," she whispered to herself, "let them come back safely."

Chapter Text

The air in Inazuma City was thick with tension, the kind that pressed against your chest and made every breath feel heavier than the last. The sky above was a swirling canvas of purples and grays, the Electro Archon's eternal storm crackling faintly in the distance. The Statue of the Omnipresent God loomed tall and imposing, its stone gaze cold and unyielding as it watched over the gathered crowd. The citizens of Inazuma had come in droves, their murmurs a low, uneasy hum that reverberated through the square. Some stood on tiptoes, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the spectacle. Others whispered to one another, their voices tinged with confusion and fear. The Tenryou Commission's grand ceremony was not just an event—it was a warning, a display of power meant to remind everyone of the Raiden Shogun's unbreakable will.

Samurai clad in dark armor lined the perimeter, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords, eyes scanning the crowd for even the slightest hint of dissent. The air was charged with an unspoken threat: Do not interfere. Do not question. Obey. The crowd, though restless, obeyed. They had no choice. The Vision Hunt Decree had already claimed so much, and today, it would claim more.

"Make way! Make way for General Kujou Sara!" a stern voice barked, cutting through the murmurs like a blade. The crowd parted reluctantly, creating a narrow path as the Tengu warrior strode forward with her usual commanding presence. Her sharp, golden eyes scanned the area, her expression unreadable but her posture radiating authority. Behind her, a group of samurai marched in formation, their armor clinking with every step. Between them, two figures were being paraded like criminals, their hands bound tightly behind their backs.

The first was Thoma, the ever-loyal housekeeper of the Kamisato Clan. His usual cheerful demeanor was absent, replaced by a grim determination as he walked with his head held high. The crowd recognized him immediately, and their confusion was palpable. Thoma was well-loved in Inazuma City, known for his kindness, his easy smile, and his willingness to help anyone in need. To see him in chains, his Vision about to be taken, was a blow to many. Whispers rippled through the crowd.

"Is that… Thoma?" a woman in the crowd whispered to her friend.

"It can't be! Thoma wouldn't do anything wrong!" another replied, her tone filled with disbelief.

The second figure was a stranger to most—a blonde traveler with an otherworldly aura, his golden eyes sharp and calculating even in the face of danger. Aether, the outlander, was an enigma to the people of Inazuma. He carried no Vision, yet here he was, bound and forced to kneel before the Statue of the Omnipresent God. The crowd's confusion only grew. Why was he here? What had he done to warrant such treatment? Some speculated that his foreign origins alone were enough to mark him as a threat in the eyes of the Shogunate.

"Who's the other one? The blonde guy?"

"I've never seen him before. Does he even have a Vision?"

"Maybe he broke the law? He's not from Inazuma, that's for sure."

The samurai shoved Aether and Thoma forward, forcing them to their knees on the cold, hard ground in front of the statue. The crowd watched in uneasy silence, the weight of the moment settling over them like a suffocating blanket. Aether's mind raced, his eyes darting around as he assessed the situation. The samurai were too numerous, the crowd too tightly controlled. There was no easy way out—not yet, at least.

"Any ideas?" Aether muttered under his breath, his voice low enough that only Thoma could hear. He kept his gaze forward, his expression calm, but his mind was working overtime. If there was even the slightest chance to escape, he needed to find it.

Thoma, kneeling beside him, gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. "Right now? Nope, no way. It's too late for that." His voice was steady, but there was a flicker of resignation in his tone. He tilted his head slightly, gesturing toward the raised platform in front of the statue. "Look over there."

Aether followed Thoma's gaze, and his breath caught in his throat. There, standing atop the platform, was the Raiden Shogun herself. Her presence was overwhelming, a force of nature contained within a single, immovable figure. Her violet eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, and her expression was as cold and unyielding as the statue behind her. She was clad in her regal armor, the Electro symbol emblazoned across her chest, and her long, flowing hair seemed to shimmer with an electric energy. In her hand, she held the Musou Isshin, its blade radiating a faint, ominous hum. The air around her crackled with power, and even from a distance, Aether could feel the sheer intensity of her aura.

"That's… her?" Aether whispered, his voice barely audible. He had heard stories of the Raiden Shogun, of course—her divine power, her unwavering pursuit of eternity—but seeing her in person was something else entirely. She was majestic, yes, but there was something deeply unsettling about her presence. It was as if the very concept of mercy had been stripped away, leaving only.

"Yeah. That's the Raiden Shogun. The one and only." He paused, his voice dropping even lower. "Listen, Aether. Whatever happens next, don't do anything reckless. She's not someone you can just… fight."

Aether's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He understood the gravity of the situation, but the thought of sitting idly by while Thoma's Vision was taken—while anyone's Vision was taken—was unbearable. He clenched his fists, the ropes digging into his wrists, and forced himself to stay calm. There had to be a way out. There had to be.

The Raiden Shogun stepped forward, her movements deliberate and unhurried. The crowd fell completely silent, the tension in the air so thick it was almost suffocating. She raised her hand, and a low hum filled the square as the statue behind her began to glow with a faint, purple light. The Vision Hunt Ceremony was about to begin.

The air in the square grew heavier, the tension so palpable it felt as though the very ground might crack beneath the weight of it. The Raiden Shogun's hand had been raised, the faint hum of Electro energy building as the Statue of the Omnipresent God began to glow. The crowd held its breath, the silence so absolute that even the faintest rustle of fabric seemed deafening. But just as the Shogun was about to speak, to declare the Vision Hunt Ceremony underway, the atmosphere shifted.

A sudden, unnatural stillness fell over the square, as if time itself had paused. Then, with a faint ripple in the air, a figure materialized out of thin air, standing directly in the center of the open area before the statue. The crowd gasped, their murmurs rising in a wave of shock and confusion. The figure was tall—towering at nearly 195 centimeters—and cloaked in a dark, gothic hooded robe that billowed slightly in the wind. Beneath the cloak, glimpses of dark, intricately crafted armor could be seen, its edges sharp and menacing. A mask covered his face, its design both elegant and unsettling, obscuring his identity entirely. His presence was overwhelming, a shadow given form, and the air around him seemed to grow colder, darker.

The samurai reacted instantly, their training kicking in as they surrounded the intruder, their swords drawn and their stances defensive. Kujou Sara, ever the vigilant general, nocked an arrow to her bowstring in one fluid motion, her golden eyes narrowing as she aimed directly at the hooded figure's head. Her voice rang out, sharp and commanding, cutting through the murmurs of the crowd.

"Who the hell are you?!" she demanded, her tone leaving no room for evasion. The tension in her voice mirrored the unease that had settled over the square. This was no ordinary intruder—his very presence radiated danger.

Aether's eyes widened as he recognized the figure. "Momon!" he called out, his voice a mix of relief and urgency. He knew Momon's capabilities well—his speed, his strength, his unyielding resolve. But he also knew the Raiden Shogun's nature. She would not tolerate a threat to her vision of eternity, and Momon's sudden appearance would undoubtedly mark him as such. A disaster was brewing, and Aether could feel it in his bones.

"Momon?" Kujou Sara repeated, her sharp gaze flicking briefly to Aether before returning to the cloaked figure. Her voice carried a note of realization. "So this is the second Honorary Knight?"

The crowd erupted into whispers, the name spreading like wildfire. "Honorary Knight?" someone repeated, their voice tinged with awe. "The actual Honorary Knights who saved Mondstadt and Liyue?!" another voice called out, louder this time. The citizens' confusion and unease grew. These were heroes, legends spoken of in hushed tones across Teyvat. Why were they being treated like criminals?

"But why? They are great heroes!" a voice protested, the sentiment echoed by others in the crowd. The people of Inazuma were no strangers to the Shogun's iron rule, but this—this felt different. This felt wrong.

"Silence!" Kujou Sara barked, her voice cutting through the rising murmurs like a whip. Her authority was absolute, and the crowd fell quiet, though the tension in the air remained. She turned her attention back to Momon, her bow still trained on him. "Adventurer Momon, surrender now. You are outnumbered and outmatched."

While the soldiers and the crowd were distracted, a small, floating figure darted through the chaos. Paimon, ever the quick thinker, zipped behind Aether and Thoma, her tiny hands working furiously to untie the ropes binding their wrists. "Paimon's got you!" she whispered, her voice a mix of determination and fear. The ropes fell away, and Aether rubbed his wrists, his eyes never leaving Momon and the Shogun.

"Thanks, Paimon," Aether said quietly, his voice tense. Thoma nodded in agreement, his expression grim. They were free, but the real danger was just beginning.

The Raiden Shogun, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. Her voice was low, almost a whisper, yet it carried an undeniable weight that silenced the square completely. "Such a cruel presence…" she said, her violet eyes fixed on Momon. Her gaze was piercing, predatory, as if she were dissecting him piece by piece, searching for the source of the darkness that clung to him. "You are an anomaly. A disruption."

Momon stood perfectly still, his masked face giving nothing away. He made no move to draw a weapon, no gesture of aggression. Yet his very stillness was unnerving, as if he were a storm contained within a human form, waiting to be unleashed.

The Raiden Shogun's expression hardened, her decision made. "I declare you a threat to Eternity," she announced, her voice resonating with divine authority. The air around her crackled with Electro energy, the ground trembling as a massive wave of purple light erupted from her body. She hovered in the air, her hair flowing as if caught in an invisible wind, her presence growing even more overwhelming. The crowd recoiled in terror, some stumbling backward as the sheer power radiating from her became almost unbearable.

Kujou Sara and the samurai quickly retreated, their faces pale with fear. They knew better than to stand too close when the Shogun unleashed her full power. The square cleared, leaving only Momon standing firm, his dark cloak billowing in the electrified wind.

From within the Raiden Shogun's chest, a glowing sword began to emerge—the Musou Isshin, a weapon of divine power, its blade humming with the energy of a thousand storms. The sight was both awe-inspiring and terrifying, a reminder of the god's absolute authority.

Momon, however, did not flinch. He remained where he was, his masked face tilted slightly upward as if meeting the Shogun's gaze. When he finally spoke, his voice was deep, calm, and utterly devoid of fear. "Eternity is nothing against absolute… death."

The crowd was stunned into silence by his words, his voice carrying an unnatural weight that seemed to press down on their very souls.

The words hung in the air, heavy and foreboding. The Raiden Shogun's eyes narrowed, her grip tightening on the Musou Isshin. The battle lines had been drawn, and the square braced itself for the clash of two forces that could shake the very foundations of Inazuma.

The sky above Inazuma City churned with an unnatural ferocity, the Electro Archon's eternal storm amplifying as the Raiden Shogun hovered high above the Statue of the Omnipresent God. Her violet eyes, once cold and lifeless, now glowed with an intensity that seemed to pierce the very fabric of reality. The air around her crackled with energy, her divine presence radiating an overwhelming pressure that forced even the bravest souls to their knees. Yet, Momon remained unmoved, his dark cloak billowing as he ascended to meet her, his towering figure a stark contrast to her ethereal grace.

Momon's masked face tilted slightly, his crimson eyes—visible through the slits of his mask—narrowing as he studied her. At first, he had sensed nothing from her—no life force, no soul, nothing that marked her as a living being. To him, she had seemed like a puppet, a golem animated by some higher power. But now, as her eyes glowed with a newfound vitality, he felt it—a faint, flickering pulse of life. It was as if something—or someone—had awakened within her, breathing life into the hollow shell she had been moments before.

Interesting, Momon thought, his mind racing. She was a puppet, but now… she's something more. What changed? There was no time to ponder the question. The Raiden Shogun's gaze locked onto him, her expression shifting from cold indifference to something far more dangerous—recognition, determination, and a hint of fury.

"You dare challenge eternity?" she spoke, her voice resonating with the power of a thousand storms. It was not a question but a declaration, a warning that echoed across the city. The citizens below, already cowering under the weight of her divine presence, felt their hearts tremble at her words.

Momon's response was calm, his deep voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Eternity is an illusion," he said, his tone devoid of fear or hesitation. "And illusions… must be shattered."

The Raiden Shogun's eyes flared, her grip tightening on the Musou Isshin. The blade hummed with energy, its purple light growing brighter as she prepared to strike. Without another word, she moved—faster than the eye could follow, a streak of violet lightning cutting through the air as she lunged at Momon. The sound of her movement was like thunder, a deafening crack that shook the very foundations of Inazuma City.

Momon reacted instantly, his movements precise and deliberate. From within the folds of his cloak, he drew his black sword—a weapon as dark as the void, its surface seeming to absorb the light around it. The blade hummed with a low, ominous frequency, its edge gleaming with an otherworldly sharpness. As the Raiden Shogun's Musou Isshin descended, Momon raised his sword to meet it.

The collision was cataclysmic.

When the two blades clashed, the force of their meeting unleashed an unimaginable shockwave, a burst of energy that rippled outward in all directions. The air itself seemed to tear apart, the ground below trembling as if the world itself could not withstand the sheer power of their clash. The shockwave tore through the city, shattering windows, uprooting trees, and sending debris flying in every direction. The citizens of Inazuma, already on their knees, were forced flat onto the ground, their faces pressed against the cold stone as the wave of energy passed over them.

Aether, Thoma, and Paimon, who had been watching from a distance, were no exception. Aether threw himself over Thoma and Paimon, shielding them as best he could as the shockwave hit. The force of it was overwhelming, a physical weight that pressed down on them, stealing the breath from their lungs. When it finally passed, Aether looked up, his golden eyes wide with disbelief.

"What… what just happened?" Paimon stammered, her voice trembling as she peeked out from behind Aether. "That was… that was insane!"

Thoma, his face pale, could only shake his head. "I've never felt anything like that before," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "That's the power of the Raiden Shogun… and Momon. They're on a completely different level."

High above, the clash of blades continued. The Raiden Shogun's movements were a blur of violet lightning, her strikes precise and relentless. Each swing of the Musou Isshin carried the weight of a god's wrath, the blade humming with Electro energy as it sought to obliterate its target. Yet, Momon met every strike with equal force, his black sword moving with a fluid grace that belied its immense power. The two combatants were a study in contrasts—light and shadow, thunder and silence, divinity and death.

As their blades clashed again and again, the shockwaves continued to ripple outward, each one more devastating than the last. The city below was in chaos, the citizens scrambling for cover as the ground shook and the air crackled with energy. The samurai and soldiers, including Kujou Sara, could only watch in stunned silence, their weapons forgotten as they bore witness to a battle that defied comprehension.

Kujou Sara's golden eyes were wide, her usual composure shattered. "This… this is impossible," she muttered, her voice barely audible over the din. "No one should be able to stand against the Shogun like this."

Yet, Momon did more than stand—he held his ground, his crimson eyes never leaving the Raiden Shogun's glowing gaze. With each clash of their blades, the air grew heavier, the tension thicker. The Raiden Shogun's expression shifted again, her fury giving way to something else—something almost like curiosity.

She pushed against his blade with immense strength, the raw power of her Electro energy crackling along the edge of her sword. "You cannot comprehend the weight of Eternity!"

With a sudden burst of strength, Momon pushed back, forcing the Shogun to disengage. She flew backward, her eyes narrowing as she steadied herself mid-air. For the first time in the battle, there was a flicker of doubt in her gaze.

Momon pointed his sword at her, the dark aura around it intensifying. His voice was calm, but it carried a weight that silenced even the storm. "You've declared me a threat, Shogun. Now prove your Eternity can stand against me."

The sky above Narukami Island had become a battlefield of gods. The once-stable storm that perpetually hung over Inazuma now raged with unprecedented fury, the clouds churning and twisting as if the heavens themselves were at war. Lightning arced across the sky in jagged streaks, illuminating the chaos below. The citizens of Inazuma City, their faces pale and their hearts pounding, could only watch in stunned silence as the two titans clashed above them.

Momon and the Raiden Shogun moved at speeds that defied comprehension, their forms blurring as they darted across the sky. One moment, they would appear high above the Statue of the Omnipresent God, their blades colliding with a deafening crash that sent shockwaves rippling through the air. The next, they would vanish, only to reappear miles away, their clash lighting up the horizon like a second sun. The sheer speed of their movements made it impossible to track them with the naked eye. All the citizens could see were the aftereffects—the blinding flashes of light, the thunderous booms that shook the ground, and the devastating shockwaves that followed.

Each time their blades met, the impact was catastrophic. The shockwaves radiated outward like ripples on a pond, but these were no gentle waves—they were violent, earth-shattering forces that tore through the landscape. Buildings trembled, their windows shattering as the waves hit. Trees were uprooted, their trunks snapping like twigs. The ground itself seemed to groan under the strain, cracks spreading like spiderwebs across the streets. The citizens, already on their knees, were forced to press themselves even closer to the ground, their hands covering their heads as debris rained down around them.

"What… what is happening?!" a man cried out, his voice barely audible over the roar of the storm. He clung to the base of a shattered lamppost, his eyes wide with terror as he stared up at the sky.

"It's the Shogun!" a woman shouted back, her voice trembling. "She's fighting that… that monster!"

"Monster?!" another voice interjected, this one filled with disbelief. "Didn't you hear? He's one of the Honorary Knights! He saved Mondstadt and Liyue!"

"Then why is he fighting the Shogun?!" the first man shot back, his voice rising in panic. "This is madness!"

The citizens' confusion and fear were palpable, their voices rising in a cacophony of shouts and cries. But their words were drowned out by the next clash of blades, a collision so powerful that it sent a shockwave rippling across the entire island. The force of it knocked people off their feet, sending them sprawling to the ground. The air itself seemed to vibrate, the pressure so intense that it felt as though the world might tear itself apart.

High above, Momon and the Raiden Shogun reappeared, their blades locked in a deadly stalemate. The Shogun's violet eyes burned with an intensity that matched the storm around her, her expression a mix of fury and determination. Momon, his crimson eyes gleaming through the slits of his mask, met her gaze with an unyielding calm. For a moment, they hovered there, suspended in midair, the tension between them palpable.

"You cannot win," the Raiden Shogun declared, her voice resonating with the power of a god. "Eternity is absolute. Your defiance is meaningless."

They vanished again, their forms blurring as they streaked across the sky. The next clash occurred over the sea, the impact sending a massive wave crashing toward the shore. The one after that lit up the mountains, the shockwave causing a landslide that sent boulders tumbling down the slopes. Each clash was more devastating than the last, the sheer power of their battle reshaping the landscape of Narukami Island.

Aether, Thoma, and Paimon watched from a distance, their faces pale with shock. "This… this is insane," Paimon stammered, her tiny hands clutching Aether's arm. "They're going to destroy the entire island at this rate!"

As another shockwave rippled across the island, Aether made a decision. "We need to get to safety," he said, his voice firm. "And then… we'll figure out what to do next."

Thoma, his usual composure shattered, stared up at the sky with wide eyes. "I knew Momon was strong," he said, his voice trembling with disbelief, "but to be on this level of power… to go toe-to-toe with an Archon… it's insane. This isn't just strength—it's something else entirely."

Paimon, hovering nervously beside Aether, clutched at his arm with tiny, trembling hands. "They're tearing the sky apart!" she cried, her voice high-pitched with panic.

Aether's jaw tightened, his golden eyes glowing faintly with determination as he stared up at the chaotic scene above. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the battle unfolding before him. This wasn't just a fight—it was something far greater, far more profound. "No," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the turmoil around him. "This isn't just a fight. This is a declaration of power. Momon isn't just challenging the Raiden Shogun—he's challenging the very concept of eternity itself."

High above, the Raiden Shogun hovered in the air, her violet eyes blazing with divine fury. Her grip on the Musou Isshin tightened, the blade humming with an almost unbearable intensity as she gathered her power. The storm around her responded to her will, the clouds churning and lightning arcing across the sky in a display of raw, unbridled energy. She raised her blade, the air around her crackling with Electro energy, and with a swift, fluid motion, she unleashed a devastating horizontal slash.

The attack was unlike anything the citizens of Inazuma had ever seen. A massive arc of Electro energy erupted from the Musou Isshin, extending outward in a blinding wave of violet light. It was a strike meant to cleave the entire city in two, a display of power so overwhelming that it left no room for resistance. The citizens screamed in terror, their voices rising in a chorus of panic as they braced for the inevitable impact.

But in the blink of an eye, Momon appeared before the attack, his towering figure a stark contrast to the blinding light of the Raiden Shogun's strike. His dark cloak billowed in the wind, the edges of it seeming to dissolve into shadow as he raised his black blade. The sword, a weapon as dark as the void itself, hummed with a low, ominous frequency, its surface absorbing the light around it.

With a single, fluid motion, Momon swung his blade. The movement was precise, almost effortless, but the force behind it was unimaginable. The black sword cut through the arc of Electro energy as if it were nothing more than paper, the massive wave of power dissipating into harmless fragments that rained down like glowing embers. The citizens below stared in stunned silence, their fear momentarily forgotten as they witnessed the impossible.

The Raiden Shogun's eyes narrowed, her expression shifting from fury to something far more dangerous—recognition. She hovered in the air, her blade still raised, as she studied Momon with a calculating gaze. "You…" she said, her voice low and resonant, carrying the weight of a god's authority. "You are no mere mortal. What are you?"

Momon's response was calm, almost casual, but it carried an undeniable weight. "Oh, no, no, Miss Shogun," he said, his deep voice dripping with a dark, almost mocking amusement. "I'm no mortal at all. I am death himself."

The words hung in the air, heavy and foreboding. The Raiden Shogun's eyes narrowed, her expression shifting from fury to something far more dangerous—recognition. She had faced countless foes in her long existence, but this… this was different. Momon was not just an opponent; he was a force of nature, an embodiment of something far older and more primal than even her divine power.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, with a roar that echoed like thunder, the Raiden Shogun transformed. Her body dissolved into a blinding surge of Electro energy, her form becoming a living storm. Lightning arced around her, the air crackling with power as she surged forward, a streak of violet light cutting through the sky. Her movements were faster than thought, her strikes carrying the weight of a god's wrath.

But Momon was ready. As the Raiden Shogun transformed, so too did he. His body dissolved into a swirling mass of dark smoke and shadow, his form becoming something intangible, something otherworldly. The air around him grew colder, the light dimming as if the very concept of brightness was being erased. He moved like a phantom, his movements were fluid and unpredictable, a shadow-given form.

The two forces collided in midair, their clash sending shockwaves rippling across the island. The sky above Inazuma City became a battlefield of light and darkness, the storm above churning violently as the two titans clashed. Each collision was cataclysmic, the force of their strikes sending bursts of energy outward in all directions.

The Raiden Shogun's voice cut through the chaos, her tone sharp and commanding. "You dare to mock eternity?" she demanded, her words resonating with the power of a god. "You, who stand before me as if you are my equal? You are nothing but a disruption, a stain upon the fabric of this world."

As the battle raged on, the sky itself seemed to split apart with each collision of blade and will. Momon and the Raiden Shogun moved faster than mortal eyes could track, their figures flickering in and out of existence like ghosts of destruction. Every clash of Musou Isshin and Momon's ominous black greatsword sent out shockwaves that ripped through the air, tearing apart clouds, shaking the seas, and sending arcs of electricity and slashes of void-like energy across the horizon.

The sheer force of their battle carried them beyond Narukami Island, their speed so great that they seemed to vanish into the storm itself.

The people of Inazuma could only watch in horror and awe as the heavens raged. From the streets of Inazuma City to the distant shores of Yashiori and Kannazuka, citizens turned their eyes skyward, their faces pale. Even the most battle-hardened warriors of the Shogunate had never witnessed such devastation.

In the air above the raging ocean, beyond the reaches of Narukami, the two combatants reappeared in a violent flash of light.

Seirai Island.

A land forever scarred by calamity, its skies darkened by eternal storms, its soil still seething with residual Electro energy from the wrath of the Shogun herself. It was a land that bore witness to her past destruction. And now, it would witness another battle unlike any before.

Chapter Text

The air atop Mt. Yougou was thick with tension, the usually serene atmosphere of the Grand Narukami Shrine shattered by the distant but deafening clashes of divine power. The shrine maidens, their faces pale and their robes fluttering in the unnatural wind, had rushed to the edge of the shrine's grounds, their eyes wide with a mix of awe and terror. Far in the distance, the sky was a chaotic canvas of violet lightning and swirling shadows, the battle between the Raiden Shogun and Momon raging like a storm that threatened to consume the world.

Each clash sent shockwaves rippling across the land, the force of their strikes reaching even the sacred heights of Mt. Yougou. The ground beneath the shrine trembled violently, the ancient stones groaning under the strain. Trees swayed and cracked, their branches snapping as the shockwaves tore through the mountain. The shrine maidens clutched at each other, their voices rising in panicked whispers.

"What… what is happening?!" one of the younger maidens cried, her voice trembling as she stared at the distant flashes of light and shadow. "Is that… the Shogun?"

"It must be," another replied, her voice barely audible over the roar of the storm. "But who is she fighting? Who could possibly stand against her?"

The answer to that question was as terrifying as the battle itself. The mysterious figure known as Momon, a being of shadow and death, was locked in a deadly duel with the Raiden Shogun, their clash reshaping the very landscape of Inazuma. The shrine maidens could only watch in stunned silence, their hearts pounding as they bore witness to a battle that defied comprehension.

Yae Miko stood apart from the others, her usual playful demeanor replaced by an uncharacteristic seriousness. Her violet eyes, sharp and calculating, were fixed on the distant battle, her expression a mix of concern and frustration. She had known Ei for centuries, had stood by her side through countless trials and tribulations. She had watched as her best friend retreated into the Plane of Euthymia, dedicating herself to the pursuit of eternity. And now, after so long, Ei had finally emerged—only to throw herself into a battle that could very well end in her destruction.

"Ei…" Yae Miko murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her hands clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to suppress the turmoil within her. She had always been the one to tease and prod, to guide and advise, but this… this was beyond her. The sheer scale of the battle, the raw power on display, was something even she could not hope to intervene in.

And then there was Momon. The enigmatic figure who had appeared in Inazuma like a shadow, his presence both unsettling and intriguing. Yae Miko had come to know him well during his time in the region, had even grown fond of him despite his otherworldly nature. She had discovered his true form—a skeleton undead Overlord—and yet, it had not changed her opinion of him. If anything, it had only deepened her fascination. He was a being of contradictions, a force of death who carried himself with a strange sense of honor and purpose.

But now, as she watched him clash with Ei, her heart ached with a conflict she had never expected to feel. Ei was her best friend, her confidante, the person she had known and cared for longer than anyone else. And Momon… Momon was someone she had come to respect, even admire. The thought of one of them falling was unbearable.

"Momon…" she whispered, her voice tinged with a rare vulnerability. She had no idea what to do, how to stop them. This was not a battle that could be resolved with words or clever schemes. This was a fight to the death, a clash of ideals and power that would only end when one of them was destroyed.

The ground beneath her feet shook violently as another shockwave hit, the force of it nearly knocking her off balance. The shrine maidens cried out in fear, their voices rising in a chorus of panic. Yae Miko steadied herself, her eyes never leaving the distant battle. The sky above Seirai Island, where the clash had now moved, was a maelstrom of light and shadow, the storm so intense it seemed to consume the horizon.

"Lady Yae!" one of the shrine maidens called, her voice desperate. "What do we do? How do we stop this?"

Yae Miko's jaw tightened, her mind racing. She wanted to intervene, to find a way to bring an end to the battle before it was too late. But the truth was, she was powerless in the face of such overwhelming power. This was a battle between gods, a conflict that no mortal—or even a kitsune of her stature—could hope to influence.

The tranquility of the Grand Narukami Shrine was shattered in an instant. The distant clash between the Raiden Shogun and Momon had already sent shockwaves rippling across Mt. Yougou, but now, a new threat had arrived—one far closer and far more immediate. The shrine maidens, already on edge from the celestial battle raging in the distance, screamed in terror as a deafening BOOM echoed through the sacred grounds. The sound was so loud it seemed to shake the very foundations of the shrine, sending birds scattering into the sky and causing the lanterns to sway violently.

Yae Miko, her sharp instincts kicking in, immediately sprinted toward the Sacred Sakura, her heart pounding with a mix of anger and concern. The shrine was her domain, a place of peace and reverence, and the thought of intruders defiling it filled her with a cold fury. But as she reached the heart of the shrine, her violet eyes narrowed at the sight before her.

The Grand Narukami Shrine was under siege. Dozens of Fatui agents, clad in their signature black and white uniforms, had infiltrated the sacred grounds. They moved with military precision, their weapons drawn as they rounded up the terrified shrine maidens. The once serene atmosphere was now filled with the sounds of struggle—cries of fear, the clatter of weapons, and the harsh commands of the Fatui.

Miko's gaze swept across the scene, her sharp mind already calculating the situation. She recognized the figures standing at the center of the chaos, their presence unmistakable. Three Harbingers of Snezhnaya—Scaramouche, La Signora, and Tartaglia—stood amidst the chaos, their auras radiating power and arrogance. They were not here by coincidence. This was a calculated move, a strike at the heart of Inazuma while its archon was distracted.

"Well, well, well," Scaramouche's voice cut through the chaos, his tone dripping with mockery as he stepped forward. His sharp eyes gleamed with a dangerous light as he gestured toward the distant battle. "The view of the Raiden Shogun clashing with that guy is quite epic from up here, don't you think? It's almost poetic, really. A god fighting for her ideals while her people suffer. Quite the spectacle."

Yae Miko's lips curled into a faint, sardonic smile, though her eyes remained cold. "Three Harbingers of Snezhnaya," she said, her voice calm but laced with venom. "The Balladeer, La Signora, and Tartaglia. How… unexpected. I thought you lot didn't travel in packs. Did you get lonely, or are you just that desperate?"

Scaramouche chuckled, a low, humorless sound that sent a chill through the air. "True, true," he said, his tone casual, as if they were discussing the weather rather than orchestrating an invasion. "But don't mind these two—" he gestured vaguely toward Signora and Childe, who stood silently behind him, their expressions unreadable. "They're just here for the show. You and I, on the other hand, have some business to attend to."

Miko's eyes narrowed, her sharp mind already piecing together his intentions. Deep down, she knew what he was after. The Electro Gnosis—the divine symbol of the Raiden Shogun's power. It was the ultimate prize for the Fatui, the key to their ambitions. And now, with Ei distracted by her battle with Momon, they had chosen this moment to strike.

"I want you to hand over the Electro Gnosis," Scaramouche said, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. "Do that, and no one here gets harmed. Simple, isn't it?"

Miko's smile didn't waver, though her eyes hardened. "Why would I have the Gnosis?" she replied, her tone light, almost playful. "You should ask the Raiden Shogun for that. She's the one who carries it, after all."

Scaramouche's expression darkened, his patience wearing thin. He raised a hand, snapping his fingers sharply. At his signal, two Fatui agents stepped forward, dragging a young shrine maiden with them. The girl, no older than sixteen, struggled in their grip, her eyes wide with terror as tears streamed down her face. The agents forced her to her knees, one of them pressing the barrel of a rifle to the back of her head.

Yae Miko's heart clenched, her usual composure faltering for the briefest of moments. The girl was innocent, a mere child caught in the crossfire of a war she had no part in. Miko's hands clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to keep her emotions in check.

"Hey, man," Tartaglia—Childe—spoke up, his voice tinged with discomfort. "You're going too far with this. She's just a kid."

"Shut up," Scaramouche snapped, his voice low but icy. His gaze never left Yae Miko, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that was almost unnerving. "I'm asking you to hand over the Gnosis, kitsune. Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

Miko's jaw tightened, her mind racing. She knew Scaramouche wasn't bluffing. The Fatui were ruthless, willing to do whatever it took to achieve their goals. But the thought of handing over the Gnosis—of betraying Ei and Inazuma—was unthinkable. Yet, the sight of the young shrine maiden, trembling and terrified, tore at her heart.

"You really want to kill an innocent girl over a Gnosis?" Miko asked, her voice steady but carrying a sharp edge. "Is that the kind of monster you've become, Scaramouche?"

Scaramouche's expression didn't change. He didn't answer. Instead, he raised his hand again, his fingers poised to snap. The air grew heavy, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating. Yae Miko's eyes flicked to the young maiden, her heart pounding as she weighed her options.

And then, with a sharp crack, Scaramouche snapped his fingers.

The sound of the gunshot echoed through the shrine, deafening in its finality. The young shrine maiden crumpled to the ground, her lifeless body hitting the stone floor with a sickening thud. The other shrine maidens screamed, their cries of horror filling the air.

Yae Miko's breath caught in her throat, her violet eyes widening in shock and fury. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as she stared at the lifeless body of the girl, her mind reeling. Then, slowly, her gaze shifted to Scaramouche, her expression hardening into one of cold, unrelenting rage.

"You…" she whispered, her voice trembling with barely contained fury. "You will regret this."

Scaramouche smirked, his expression one of smug satisfaction. "The Gnosis, Yae Miko," he said, his tone calm but carrying an unmistakable threat. "Or the next one dies too."

The shrine maidens wept, their cries of grief and fear echoing through the sacred grounds. Yae Miko stood amidst the chaos, her mind racing as she faced an impossible choice.

Yae Miko stood amidst the chaos, her violet eyes burning with a mixture of fury and sorrow as she clutched the Electro Gnosis in her hand. The small, glowing object pulsed faintly, a symbol of divine power that now felt like a curse. She glanced down at it, her mind racing with the weight of the decision she was about to make.

The lifeless body of the young shrine maiden lay at her feet, a stark reminder of the cost of defiance. The girl's wide, unseeing eyes stared up at the sky, her face frozen in an expression of terror. The other shrine maidens wept openly, their cries of grief echoing through the shrine. The Fatui agents, their weapons still drawn, watched with cold indifference, their loyalty to their masters unwavering.

Miko's jaw tightened, her hands trembling as she held the Gnosis. She knew what she had to do, but the thought of handing it over—of betraying Ei and Inazuma—was almost unbearable. Yet, the sight of the young maiden's lifeless body, the blood pooling beneath her, was a grim reminder of the stakes. She couldn't let this happen again. She couldn't let more innocent lives be lost.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Yae Miko raised the Gnosis high, her eyes locking onto Scaramouche's smug, triumphant gaze. "Take it," she said, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. Then, with a sudden, forceful motion, she hurled the Gnosis at his feet. The small object clattered against the stone, its faint glow dimming as it rolled to a stop. "And get the hell out of here!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the shrine with a raw, primal fury.

Scaramouche's smirk widened as he bent down to pick up the Gnosis, his fingers closing around it with a possessive grip. He held it up to the light, his eyes gleaming with triumph as he examined the symbol of the Raiden Shogun's power. "Hehe," he chuckled, his voice dripping with mockery. "Thank you for cooperating with us, Miko. You've made this much easier than it needed to be."

He turned on his heel, his movements casual and unhurried, as if he were strolling through a park rather than the scene of a massacre. The Fatui troops fell into step behind him, their weapons lowered as they released the remaining shrine maidens. The girls collapsed to the ground, their sobs of relief mingling with their cries of grief.

Miko didn't watch them leave. Her eyes were fixed on the lifeless body of the young maiden, her heart heavy with guilt and sorrow. She dropped to her knees beside the girl, her hands trembling as she reached out to close the girl's eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm so sorry…"

Childe, who had been standing silently at the edge of the shrine, watched the scene with a rare expression of sadness. His usual bravado was absent, replaced by a somber stillness as he observed the aftermath of Scaramouche's brutality. "This… didn't have to happen," he muttered, his voice low and tinged with regret.

Signora, standing beside him, rolled her eyes in disdain. "Tch~" she scoffed, her voice cold and dismissive. "That's why I wanted to take the Gnosis by diplomacy. Oh well, we got it anyway. Time to leave this grim nation."

Her words were like a spark to tinder. Yae Miko's head snapped up, her violet eyes blazing with a predatory fury. In an instant, she was on her feet, her body moving with a speed that defied comprehension. She lunged at Signora, her claws extended, her expression one of pure, unrelenting rage.

But Signora was no ordinary foe. She turned with lightning speed, her movements fluid and precise. Before Miko could reach her, Signora's hand shot out, the back of it striking Miko across the face with a force that sent her sprawling. Miko's body hit the Sacred Sakura with a sickening thud, the ancient tree trembling from the impact.

"Foolish fox!" Signora spat, her voice dripping with contempt. She glared down at Miko, her icy eyes filled with disdain. "You should have shown this bravery two minutes ago with Scaramouche. Now, you're just pathetic."

Miko struggled to rise, her body aching from the blow, but Signora was already turning away. The Harbinger strode off without a backward glance, her heels clicking against the stone as she disappeared into the shadows. Childe lingered for a moment, his expression conflicted, before he too turned and followed, leaving Yae Miko alone amidst the wreckage of the shrine.

Defeated and broken, Miko slumped against the Sacred Sakura, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The weight of her failure pressed down on her, a crushing burden that threatened to consume her entirely. The shrine maidens, their faces streaked with tears, gathered around her, their presence a small comfort in the face of overwhelming despair.

Aether, Paimon, and Thoma stood together, their eyes fixed on the distant battle. The sheer scale of the conflict was beyond comprehension, the power on display so immense it felt as though the world itself might tear apart. Thoma, his usual composure shattered, shook his head in disbelief. "This is crazy, man," he muttered, his voice tinged with awe and fear. "I've never seen anything like this. It's like they're rewriting the rules of reality."

Paimon, hovering nervously beside Aether, clutched at his arm with tiny, trembling hands. "Paimon doesn't like this! They're going to destroy everything!" she cried, her voice high-pitched with panic.

Aether's jaw tightened, his golden eyes glowing faintly with determination as he stared up at the chaotic sky. He wanted to intervene, to find a way to stop the battle before it caused even more destruction. But the sheer scale of their power was overwhelming. How could anyone hope to stand against two beings who wielded such unimaginable strength?

Before he could voice his thoughts, the sound of hurried footsteps caught his attention. He turned just in time to see Kujou Sara approaching, her katana drawn and her golden eyes blazing with fury. She stopped a few feet away, her weapon pointed directly at Aether.

"You damn bastard," she barked, her voice sharp and commanding. "What the hell is that monster?!"

Aether's grip tightened on his sword, his expression hardening as he met her gaze. "Momon is my friend," he said, his voice steady but carrying an edge of defiance.

"With such power?!" Sara shot back, her voice rising with incredulity. "That is a demon! A threat to all of Inazuma!"

Paimon, ever the quick-witted one, floated forward slightly, her tiny hands on her hips. "Wouldn't that make the Raiden Shogun a demon too, since she's just as powerful?" she asked, her tone laced with sarcasm.

Sara's eyes narrowed, her fury boiling over. "Shut up, you halfwit!" she snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. "She is our Archon, the God of Eternity! You will show her the respect she deserves!"

Before the argument could escalate further, Thoma's voice cut in, his tone urgent. "Uhh, guys?" he called, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "This does not look good."

Aether, Paimon, and Kujou Sara turned their attention to the horizon, where Seirai Island was just visible in the distance. What they saw made their blood run cold. The Raiden Shogun, her form a living storm of violet lightning, was streaking across the sky from the left. Momon, his body a swirling mass of dark smoke and shadow, was moving just as fast from the right. The two forces were on a collision course, their speed and power building with every passing second.

"Oh no…" Aether whispered, his heart sinking as he realized what was about to happen. The sheer magnitude of their clash would be catastrophic, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

"They're about to crash into each other!" Paimon cried, her voice trembling with fear.

"Get down!" Aether shouted, his voice urgent. He dropped to the ground, pulling Paimon with him. Thoma followed suit, his face pale with dread.

Kujou Sara, her instincts kicking in, turned to the samurai and citizens around her. "Everyone, get down!" she barked, her voice carrying the weight of command. The samurai and citizens, already on edge from the earlier shockwaves, obeyed without hesitation, dropping to the ground and covering their heads.

The moment seemed to stretch into eternity as the two forces hurtled toward each other. The Raiden Shogun, her form a blinding streak of violet lightning, and Momon, a swirling vortex of shadow and death, collided above Seirai Island with a force that defied comprehension.

The impact was cataclysmic.

For a moment, everything turned bright white, the sheer intensity of the collision blinding anyone who dared to look. The sound that followed was deafening, a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the world. The shockwave that rippled outward was unlike anything anyone had ever experienced. It tore through the air with unimaginable force, the ground trembling violently as it passed.

Narukami Island, already battered by the earlier shockwaves, was hit hard. Buildings shook, their windows shattering as the wave of energy passed. Trees were uprooted, their trunks snapping like twigs. The ground itself seemed to groan under the strain, cracks spreading like spiderwebs across the streets. The citizens, already on their knees, were forced flat onto the ground, their faces pressed against the cold stone as the shockwave tore through the island.

Aether, Paimon, and Thoma clung to the ground, their bodies trembling as the force of the shockwave passed over them. When it finally subsided, they looked up, their eyes wide with shock and disbelief. The sky above Seirai Island was a swirling maelstrom of light and shadow, the aftermath of the collision still visible even from a distance.

"What… what just happened?

" Paimon stammered, her voice trembling as she peeked out from behind Aether.

Thoma, his face pale, could only shake his head. "I don't know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But whatever it was… it's not over yet."

The aftermath of the cataclysmic clash between the Raiden Shogun and Momon was a scene of utter devastation. Seirai Island had been reduced to a barren wasteland. The ground was cracked and shattered, the landscape unrecognizable. Massive chunks of the island had been torn from the earth, now hovering ominously in the air, suspended by some unseen force. The air was thick with dust and smoke, the remnants of the destruction that had just unfolded. The sky above was a swirling vortex of violet lightning and dark shadows, the storm raging with an intensity that seemed almost sentient.

Raiden Ei, the Electro Archon, stood atop one of the floating chunks of rock, her breathing heavy and labored. Her divine form, usually so composed and unyielding, showed signs of strain. Her violet eyes, still glowing with an otherworldly light, scanned the desolate landscape below. Her grip on the Musou Isshin tightened, the blade humming faintly with residual Electro energy. She had faced countless foes in her long existence, but none had ever pushed her to this extent. Momon was unlike any opponent she had ever encountered—his power was vast, his resolve unshakable, and his presence unnerving.

"I commend you, stranger," Ei said, her voice steady despite her fatigue. She straightened her posture, her gaze locking onto the figure emerging from the smoke and dust below. "Not many have ever come close to lasting this long against me. You are… formidable."

The smoke and dust parted with a wave of Momon's hand, revealing his towering figure. He stood unscathed, his dark cloak billowing in the wind, his crimson eyes gleaming through the slits of his mask. His black blade, a weapon that seemed to absorb the light around it, was as pristine as ever, not a scratch or mark to show for the battle that had just taken place. Even his mask, an enigmatic piece of his identity, remained untouched, its surface smooth and unblemished.

Momon tilted his head slightly, his gaze meeting Ei's with an unnerving calm. "So," he said, his deep voice carrying an eerie finality, "are you surrendering?"

Ei's eyes narrowed, her expression hardening. The audacity of his question sparked a flicker of anger within her, but she quickly suppressed it. This was no time for emotion—this was a battle of wills, a clash of ideals that would determine the fate of Inazuma. "Don't be foolish!" Ei declared, her voice sharp and commanding. "I am the Raiden Shogun, the God of Eternity. The most supreme form! 'Surrendering' is unknown to me."

Momon, his towering figure cloaked in shadow, tilted his head slightly, his crimson eyes gleaming with an eerie light. "Oh, we'll see about that," he said, his deep voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.

Without warning, Ei launched herself at Momon, her movements a blur of violet lightning. She streaked through the air like a bullet, her blade aimed directly at his head. The strike was devastating, a blow that could cleave even the strongest foe in half. But Momon was ready. With a swift, almost casual motion, he raised his black sword, the blade humming with a low, ominous frequency. The clash of their weapons sent a shockwave rippling through the air, the force of the impact pushing Ei back.

Ei recovered instantly, her divine reflexes allowing her to counterattack with even greater speed. She struck again and again, her movements a blur of light and steel. The clash of their swords was so intense, so rapid, that it was impossible for the naked eye to follow. Two hundred strikes, three hundred, four hundred—each one delivered with the precision and power of a god. The air around them seemed to fracture under the strain, the ground below trembling with each collision.

But Momon was no ordinary opponent. At first, he had been defensive, his movements calculated and precise as he blocked each of Ei's strikes. But now, something had changed. His attacks became more aggressive, his strikes more forceful. Slowly but surely, Ei began to feel the tide of the battle shifting. She was being pushed back, her divine power no longer enough to overwhelm him.

"Your art with the sword is… strange," Ei said, her voice steady despite the strain. She blocked another of Momon's strikes, the force of the impact sending a shockwave rippling through the air. "It's as if you're an amateur. And yet, the raw power you possess makes you incredibly dangerous."

Momon's response was a low, rumbling chuckle, the sound sending a shiver through the air. "Oh, really?" he said, his tone laced with a hint of mockery. "Glad to hear that from an Archon. I was never a warrior, but I'm learning."

Ei's eyes widened, her expression one of genuine shock. For a moment, she faltered, her movements slowing as the weight of his words sank in. "You… what?!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You're not a warrior?!"

Momon's crimson eyes gleamed faintly through the slits of his mask, his gaze unwavering. "That's right," he said, his voice calm and measured. "I was never trained in the art of combat. But I'm a fast learner."

Ei's mind raced, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and frustration. How could someone with no formal training, no experience as a warrior, stand toe-to-toe with her—a god? It defied logic, defied reason. And yet, here he was, matching her blow for blow, his power and skill growing with every passing moment.

The realization only fueled her determination. She would not be bested by an amateur, no matter how powerful he was. With a roar that echoed like thunder, Ei unleashed a flurry of attacks, her movements a blur of light and steel. Each strike was delivered with the precision and power of a god, the force of her blows shaking the very earth beneath them.

But Momon was ready. His black sword moved with a fluid grace, blocking each of her strikes with ease. His movements were precise, calculated, as if he were anticipating her every move. And then, with a sudden burst of speed, he countered, his blade slicing through the air with a force that sent Ei reeling.

Momon's crimson eyes gleamed faintly through the slits of his mask as he muttered a single phrase under his breath: "[Draconic Boost]!"

For less than a second, his body glowed with a deep, ruby-like light, the energy radiating from him palpable even from a distance. Ei's eyes narrowed, her instincts screaming at her that something was wrong. She had no idea what kind of spell he had just cast, but she could feel the surge of power emanating from his body. It was raw, primal, and utterly overwhelming.

Before she could react, Momon moved. His attack was blindingly fast, a blur of shadow and steel that streaked toward her with terrifying speed. Ei raised the Musou Isshin to block, her movements precise and fluid, but the force of the impact was unlike anything she had ever experienced. The Musou Isshin, a blade forged by divine hands and imbued with the power of Electro, was knocked back by the sheer force of Momon's strike, leaving Ei momentarily exposed.

In that split second, Ei's eyes widened as she saw Momon's black sword descending toward her like a judgment from the heavens. The blade, dark as the void itself, seemed to absorb the light around it, its edge gleaming with an otherworldly sharpness. Ei knew she had to act fast—if she didn't, the attack would cleave her in two.

With a desperate motion, Ei grabbed the tip of the Musou Isshin with her left hand, using the blade to block Momon's strike. The black sword came down with immeasurable force, the impact sending a shockwave rippling through the air. The ground beneath them cracked and splintered, a massive crater forming as the force of the attack tore through the earth.

Ei's body trembled under the strain, her muscles screaming as she struggled to hold back Momon's blade. She was on her knees, her teeth clenched so tightly that blood began to seep from her lips. The Musou Isshin, held in both hands now, was the only thing keeping the black sword from cutting her in half. The sheer weight of the attack pressed down on her, the force of it threatening to crush her entirely.

Momon loomed above her, his towering figure a shadow against the stormy sky. His crimson eyes gleamed faintly through the slits of his mask, his expression unreadable. "Impressive," he said, his deep voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. "But even a god has her limits."

But just as the tension reached its peak, the air around them rippled with an unnatural energy. A violet portal materialized out of nowhere, its edges crackling with Electro energy. Before anyone could react, a figure burst forth from the portal, moving with blinding speed. It was the Raiden Shogun puppet, an exact replica of Ei, her expression cold and emotionless. In her hands, she wielded the polearm Engulfing Lightning, its blade glowing with an intense light.

Momon, caught off guard by the sudden appearance, had no time to react. The puppet struck with full force, the polearm slamming into Momon's side with a devastating impact. The force of the blow sent him flying across the crater, his body crashing into the wall with a thunderous explosion of dust and smoke. The ground shook violently, the shockwave rippling outward as the dust cloud engulfed the area.

Raiden Ei, still kneeling in the crater, stared in shock at the sudden turn of events. Her violet eyes widened as she slowly rose to her feet, her body trembling from the strain of the battle. "Why?!" she demanded, her voice sharp and filled with anger. She spat blood from her mouth, her expression a mix of frustration and disbelief.

The Raiden Shogun puppet stood tall, her polearm resting at her side as she turned to face Ei. Her voice was cold and emotionless, devoid of any hint of humanity. "You were about to fall to your death," she said, her tone matter-of-fact. "I simply did my duty to protect my creator."

Ei's eyes narrowed, her fists clenching at her sides. "That is unfair!" she snapped, her voice rising with fury. "This was my fight! My battle to win or lose! You had no right to interfere!"

The puppet's expression remained unchanged, her violet eyes staring blankly at Ei. "My purpose is to protect you, Inazuma, and ensure the continuation of eternity," she said, her voice calm but carrying an undeniable finality. "I acted in accordance with my programming."

Ei's jaw tightened, her frustration boiling over. She wiped the blood from her lips with the back of her hand, her violet eyes blazing with anger. "I don't need your protection!" she shouted, her voice echoing across the desolate landscape. "I am the Raiden Shogun, the REAL Raiden Shogun! I do not need a puppet to fight my battles for me!"

The puppet tilted her head slightly, her expression unchanging. "Your emotions are clouding your judgment," she said, her tone as cold as ever. "I acted in your best interest. The threat has been neutralized."

The ground beneath Seirai Island trembled violently, the force of the earthquake shaking the very foundations of the land. Cracks spiderwebbed across the earth, and the floating chunks of the island swayed precariously in the air, threatening to collapse at any moment. The storm above raged with renewed fury, the violet lightning and swirling shadows intertwining as if the heavens themselves were reacting to the chaos below.

Raiden Ei, the Electro Archon, stood amidst the devastation, her violet eyes wide with shock as she turned her gaze toward the crater where Momon had been buried. The air was thick with tension, the silence broken only by the low rumble of the earthquake. And then, without warning, a dark, oppressive aura erupted from the crater, engulfing the entire island in a wave of malevolent energy.

The aura was unlike anything Ei had ever felt before. It was cold, suffocating, and filled with an overwhelming sense of dread. The dark purple energy spread like a tidal wave, its power so immense that it could be felt across all of Inazuma. The citizens of Narukami Island, already on edge from the earlier shockwaves, felt their hearts tremble as the aura washed over them. It was as if the very essence of death itself had been unleashed.

From the depths of the crater, Momon emerged. But this was not the cloaked, armored warrior Ei had been fighting. No, this was something far more terrifying. His true form was revealed—a towering skeleton, its pale bones gleaming faintly in the dim light. He wore only simple pants and boots, his skeletal frame exposed for all to see. His crimson eyes glowed faintly through the empty sockets of his skull, their light cold and unyielding. Beneath his ribs floated a red orb, pulsing with a sinister energy that seemed to radiate power and malice.

Ei's breath caught in her throat, her violet eyes widening in disbelief. "What in the world…" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the howling wind. She had faced countless foes in her long existence, but this… this was something entirely different. Momon was no mere warrior. He was an undead Overlord, a being who stood at the pinnacle of the undead race—a true predator.

Momon stepped forward, his skeletal form moving with an eerie grace. The black sword in his hand hummed faintly, its dark energy resonating with the aura surrounding him. His voice, deep and resonant, cut through the chaos like a blade. "An amazing assault, I shall say," he said, his tone calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. "But a dirty one at the same time."

Ei's jaw tightened, her grip on the Musou Isshin tightening as she struggled to process what she was seeing. The Raiden Shogun puppet, standing silently beside her, raised her polearm in a defensive stance, her expression as cold and emotionless as ever. But even the puppet seemed to hesitate, her programming struggling to comprehend the sheer magnitude of the threat before her.

Momon's crimson eyes gleamed faintly as he took another step forward, his skeletal frame radiating an aura of absolute power. "You thought you could defeat me with tricks and cheap shots," he said, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable weight. "But now you see the truth. I am not just a warrior. I am death itself."

Chapter Text

The air above Seirai Island was thick with tension, the oppressive aura emanating from Momon's skeletal form weighing heavily on Raiden Ei and her puppet. The once-mighty Electro Archon, a being revered as the God of Eternity, now found herself facing a power so overwhelming and unknown that it defied comprehension. Momon's true form was a sight that struck fear into even the heart of a god. His crimson eyes glowed with an eerie light, their gaze cold and unyielding as he stared down at his opponents.

The Raiden Shogun puppet stood beside Ei, her expression as emotionless as ever, but even she seemed to hesitate under the weight of Momon's oppressive aura. The air crackled with energy, the storm above churning violently as if the heavens themselves were reacting to the sheer magnitude of the battle unfolding below.

Momon's voice, deep and resonant, cut through the chaos like a blade. "Let's begin," he said, his tone calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.

Before Ei or her puppet could react, Momon moved. He took a single step, his skeletal foot hovering just above the ground, and then—he was there. In the blink of an eye, he appeared directly in front of them, his towering form looming over them like a specter of death. Both Ei and the puppet swung their weapons in unison, their movements precise and fluid, but Momon was ready.

With a casual motion, he raised his black sword, the blade humming faintly as it blocked Ei's Musou Isshin just inches from his skeletal face. At the same time, his other hand—a bare, skeletal hand—reached out and caught the Shogun puppet's Engulfing Lightning mid-strike. The polearm, a weapon imbued with the power of Electro, was halted in its tracks, its blade trembling under the force of Momon's grip.

Ei's eyes widened in shock, her violet gaze flicking between Momon's skeletal hand and his crimson eyes. The sheer audacity of blocking a divine weapon with nothing but his bare bones was beyond anything she had ever seen. But before she could process what had just happened, Momon spoke again.

"[Earth Pillar," he intoned, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable weight.

The ground beneath them trembled violently, and then, with a deafening crash, a massive rocky pillar erupted from the earth. The pillar struck the Shogun puppet with devastating force, slamming into her stomach and sending her flying high into the sky. The puppet's body disappeared into the stormy clouds above, her form a blur of violet light as she was propelled out of the battle—at least for the moment.

Momon's attention turned back to Raiden Ei, his crimson eyes gleaming faintly as he leaned forward, his skeletal face inches from hers. "Seems like all that talk about Eternity was just you being lazy to rule your own country, huh," he said, his tone calm but laced with mockery.

Ei's jaw tightened, her violet eyes blazing with fury. "Silence!" she shouted, her voice sharp and commanding. She raised the Musou Isshin, her body glowing faintly with Electro energy as she activated her elemental skill. "Illusion shattered!" she cried, her voice resonating with the power of a god.

Behind her, the Eye of Stormy Judgment materialized, its violet light casting an eerie glow over the battlefield. The eye pulsed with energy, buffing Ei's coordinated attacks as she launched herself at Momon once more. Her movements were a blur of light and shadow, her strikes precise and relentless as she sought to overwhelm her opponent.

But Momon was ready. With a casual motion, he raised his black sword, the blade humming faintly as it blocked Ei's attacks with effortless precision. The Eye of Stormy Judgment unleashed its power, sending bursts of [AoE Electro DMG] rippling outward with each strike. The energy crackled through the air, the ground trembling as the Electro attacks tore through the landscape.

Yet, despite the sheer power of Ei's attacks, Momon remained unmoved. His skeletal form stood tall and unyielding, his crimson eyes gleaming faintly as he stared down at her. The Electro energy washed over him, but it had no effect—no damage, no movement, nothing. It was as if the attacks simply passed through him, leaving him untouched.

Ei's eyes widened in shock, her breath catching in her throat as she realized the truth. "You… you're immune to Electro?" she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief.

Momon's response was a low, rumbling chuckle, the sound sending a shiver through the air. "I'm your worst enemy here, Miss Shogun," he said, his tone calm but carrying an undeniable edge. "Because I am immune to any Electro-power."

Ei's jaw tightened, her violet eyes blazing with defiance. She had faced countless foes in her long existence, but none had ever been so perfectly suited to counter her. Momon was not just a powerful opponent—he was her antithesis, a being who could negate her very essence.

Her violet eyes burned with defiance, her grip on the Musou Isshin tightening as she prepared to continue the fight. She had realized the truth—her Electro powers, the very essence of her divine might, were useless against Momon. His immunity to Electro meant that the only way to defeat him was through sheer skill and strength in sword combat.

With a swift, fluid motion, Ei lunged forward, her blade aimed directly at Momon's skeletal face. The Musou Isshin hummed faintly as it cut through the air, its edge glowing with a deadly light. But Momon was ready. With a casual tilt of his head, he dodged the strike, his crimson eyes gleaming faintly through the empty sockets of his skull.

Before Ei could react, Momon's skeletal knee shot forward, slamming into her stomach with devastating force. The impact was like a thunderclap, the sheer power of the blow sending Ei flying backward. She skidded across the ground, her body trembling from the pain as she struggled to regain her footing. The Musou Isshin slipped from her grasp, clattering to the ground as she clutched her stomach, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

He took slow, deliberate steps toward Ei, each footfall echoing like a death knell. The oppressive weight of his presence pressed down on her, as if the very air around her was conspiring to crush her spirit.

"What's wrong?" Momon's deep, resonant voice cut through the silence, his tone calm but laced with mockery. "Life flashing before your eyes?"

Momon stopped a few feet away from her, his crimson eyes gleaming faintly as he stared down at her. With a casual motion, he kicked the Musou Isshin, sending the blade skidding across the ground toward her. The sound of metal scraping against stone was sharp and grating, a stark reminder of her vulnerability.

The Musou Isshin came to a stop just inches from Ei's outstretched hand. She stared at the blade, her mind racing. This was no act of mercy—it was a taunt, a challenge. Momon was toying with her, testing her will to fight even when the odds were stacked against her.

Ei's fingers twitched, her hand inching toward the hilt of the Musou Isshin. Her violet eyes burned with defiance as she gripped the blade, her knuckles white from the force of her hold. With a grunt of effort, she pushed herself to her feet, her body trembling but her stance firm.

The winds howled through the skies of Serai Island, whipping against the jagged cliffs and the floating rock formations that hovered high above the stormy sea. Thunder crackled in the distance, illuminating the battlefield where two titanic forces clashed in a relentless struggle.

"You… will meet your end today," Ei declared, her voice as sharp as her blade.

Momon tilted his head slightly, an amused chuckle escaping his skeletal form. "Playing dirty games on me is a bad idea, Miss Shogun," he said, his voice reverberating with an eerie calmness, one that sent an unsettling chill through even the mightiest of warriors.

Then, as if time itself yielded to their command, both figures vanished in a blur of motion, reappearing mid-air atop a massive floating rock. Their blades met with a resounding clash, sparks flying as sheer force shook the surrounding terrain. The sky above them roared in protest, lightning streaking through the heavens like the wrath of the gods themselves.

Ei pushed forward, her strikes fast and brutal, each one strong enough to cleave through mountains. But Momon—

He saw everything.

It was terrifying. The way he blocked every single attack with precision, as if he already knew exactly where she would strike. No hesitation, no falter in his stance. It was almost as if time bent to his will, allowing him to see the future and react accordingly. His swordsmanship was inhuman, effortless yet overwhelming, his motions crisp and calculated like a maestro conducting a deadly symphony.

The battle raged on, their movements becoming a blur to any ordinary onlooker. The sheer force of their clashing blades sent shockwaves rippling through the sky, distorting the clouds, scattering debris, and shattering any floating rock unfortunate enough to be caught in their wake.

The Raiden puppet emerged from the shadows, her polearm gleaming with electrified energy as she aimed for Momon's back. She had observed the battle closely, studying his movements, waiting for an opening. The twin warriors, god and puppet, fought in unison, attacking from opposite angles in a deadly pincer maneuver.

Momon, however, remained unfazed.

Their fight continued for an hour—an entire hour of relentless strikes, counterattacks, and feints. Yet, not a single blow had landed upon Momon's body. He remained untouchable, a specter beyond their reach, a force beyond mortal comprehension.

The puppet's glowing eyes narrowed, her gaze fixating on the crimson orb embedded beneath his ribs. It pulsed with an ominous glow, almost hypnotic in its presence. A core? No… a weakness.

This must be it.

She shared a knowing glance with Ei before they both launched a coordinated assault. The puppet lunged, thrusting her polearm with all her might at the orb, while Ei swung her blade from the right, aiming to end this once and for all. Their strikes landed simultaneously with devastating force—

Crack!

Or so they thought.

The sound that echoed was not that of shattering crystal, but rather the disappointing chime of metal against something unbreakable. Their weapons had met resistance, an absolute defense neither of them had accounted for.

The puppet's eyes widened in disbelief.

"The hell is this thing?!" she snarled, pulling back and inspecting her weapon for damage.

"It doesn't take damage at all!" Ei hissed, momentarily stunned.

Momon let out a slow, deliberate chuckle. "That, ladies, is a World-Class Item," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "An artifact far beyond the likes of anything you can comprehend—one particularly effective against dragons. But, so sorry to disappoint you… it's not my weak point."

Before either of them could react, Momon's skeletal hand lashed out with monstrous force, striking the puppet square in the chest. The impact sent her hurtling through the sky, crashing into a distant floating island. The sheer force of the blow left cracks webbing through the rock upon impact.

Then, before Ei could move, she felt an iron grip around her throat.

Momon had caught her.

His skeletal fingers tightened around her neck like a vice, lifting her off the ground effortlessly. For the first time in a long time, Raiden Ei felt powerless. She struggled, her hands gripping his wrist, but the strength he possessed was beyond anything she had ever encountered.

She was a god—the god of eternity, the ruler of Inazuma, a being who had stood undefeated for centuries. And yet, here she was, unable to pry herself free from the grasp of death itself.

Her violet eyes locked onto his face, onto those empty sockets burning with malevolent crimson light. There was no mercy, no hesitation, no humanity left in him—only an unfathomable abyss of power.

He was death itself.

A shudder ran through her spine as realization dawned upon her. For all her strength, for all her divinity, she was nothing but another soul standing before an entity that had long surpassed the boundaries of mortality.

Momon leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper yet carrying the weight of undeniable finality.

"Now then, Miss Shogun… shall we see what eternity truly means?"

Momon stood tall, his skeletal form radiating an aura of absolute power. His crimson eyes gleamed faintly through the empty sockets of his skull, their light cold and unrelenting. With a casual motion, he threw Raiden Ei across the battlefield, her body crashing into one of the massive floating rocks with a deafening impact. The force of the collision sent cracks spiderwebbing across the surface of the rock, the ground trembling beneath her as she struggled to regain her footing.

Ei's violet eyes fluttered open, her body aching from the impact. She pushed herself up, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she stared at Momon. The undead Overlord stood with his arms spread wide, his skeletal form silhouetted against the stormy sky. His voice, deep and resonant, cut through the chaos like a blade.

"[Gates of Apollonia," Momon intoned, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable weight.

The air behind him rippled with dark energy, hundreds of dark circle portals opening in the sky. From within these portals emerged an arsenal of weapons—swords, spears, claymores, javelins, halberds—each one radiating a cold, malevolent energy. The weapons hovered in the air for a moment, their presence overwhelming, before they were unleashed with extreme speed, streaking toward Ei like a storm of death.

Ei's eyes widened in shock, her mind racing as she tried to process the sheer magnitude of the attack. She had no time to react, no time to defend herself. The weapons were upon her in an instant, their cold, dark edges gleaming with deadly intent.

But just as the first weapon was about to strike, a blur of violet light shot across the battlefield. The Raiden Shogun puppet, her body battered and broken, flew like a bullet, slamming into Ei and pushing her out of harm's way. The force of the impact sent Ei tumbling onto another floating rock, her body skidding across the jagged surface.

The puppet, however, was not so fortunate. The weapons struck her with devastating force, their cold, dark edges piercing her body with brutal precision. Spears, swords, and halberds impaled her from every angle, pinning her to the floating rock like a macabre sculpture. The sheer force of the attack caused a series of explosions, each one shaking the ground and sending shockwaves rippling through the air.

Momon watched with an unreadable expression, his crimson eyes gleaming faintly as the dust and smoke began to settle. The Raiden Shogun puppet's body was carved into the floating rock, her form impaled by countless weapons. Her violet eyes flickered faintly, her hand twitching as she tried to move. She reached for one of the spears that had pierced her stomach, her fingers trembling as she attempted to pull it free. But her strength was gone, her body broken beyond repair.

"Oh," Momon said, his tone calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. He tilted his head slightly, his crimson eyes gleaming faintly as he observed the puppet's futile struggle. "Impressive."

With a casual motion, Momon raised his skeletal hand, his voice resonating with an eerie calm. "[Triplet Maximize Magic - Reality Slash," he intoned.

The air around him rippled with dark energy, three massive slashes of pure destructive force cutting through the fabric of reality itself. The attacks streaked toward the puppet, their edges distorting the air as they moved. The puppet's body, already broken and impaled, was struck by the slashes, her form shattering like a broken mirror. The reality around her seemed to fracture, her body dissolving into fragments of light and shadow as the slashes tore through her.

Raiden Ei, watching from a distance, felt a pang of something she couldn't quite place. The puppet had been a creation, a tool, but in that moment, she had sacrificed herself to save her creator. Ei's violet eyes flickered with a mix of gratitude and sorrow as she stared at the spot where the puppet had been. The floating rock was now a jagged, broken mess, the weapons still embedded in its surface like grim reminders of the battle.

Momon turned his attention back to Ei, his crimson eyes gleaming faintly as he stepped forward. "Your puppet was… admirable," he said, his tone calm but carrying an undeniable weight. "But now, it's just you and me."

Raiden Ei clenched her fists. Her guardian, her creation—obliterated before her eyes. She exhaled sharply, her expression unreadable as she turned her gaze toward the monstrous being before her.

"You... inferior!" Ei's voice reverberated like a divine decree, her words laced with unshakable conviction. She rose into the heavens, her form enveloped by a swirling vortex of crackling violet lightning. The storm pulsed violently, distorting the very air, as if the skies themselves trembled in anticipation of what was to come.

Momon hovered across from her, his skeletal frame unmoving, his hollow crimson gaze fixed upon the spectacle before him. He remained eerily calm, undisturbed by the display of power unfolding. He had seen countless entities boast of their supremacy before, and in the end, none had ever stood against the inevitable.

Then, as suddenly as it had come, the electro storm shattered outward in a blinding shockwave, illuminating the battlefield in a flash of divine radiance. When the light receded, the Raiden Shogun no longer stood before him as she once had.

Now, she had become something else.

Her new form exuded overwhelming divinity—an entity transcending mortality itself. Ornate armor of pure Inazuman craftsmanship adorned her figure, every plate and engraving pulsing with an unrelenting current of electricity. Hovering behind her were four spectral arms, each a construct of lightning itself, shifting and flexing like extensions of her will. One of them—colossal beyond measure—clutched a single, impossibly long katana, a weapon that crackled with a force capable of sundering mountains. Beneath her, two titanic hands of thunder formed an ethereal throne, holding her aloft as though she were seated upon a divine altar.

Ei's glowing eyes burned into Momon's unmoving form. Her voice, now layered with a celestial resonance, thundered through the battlefield.

"Behold the eternal body, inferior! Mine is the most supreme and noble form!"

Momon remained silent for a moment, his unreadable skeletal visage fixed upon her transformation. Then, a slow, ominous chuckle rumbled from within his throat.

"No wonder your people fear you," he mused, his voice carrying an unnatural weight. "You speak of eternity, but I see something else—a being who has long awaited a worthy challenge. Perhaps, deep down, you always desired a battle where you could finally let loose."

Dark, foreboding energy surged around Momon, his body disappearing beneath a swirling maelstrom of violet and black. The oppressive aura sent waves of dread crashing over the battlefield. In an instant, his appearance was no longer that of the armored adventurer known to the world or the skeleton overlord, but something far more terrifying.

When the dark mist dissipated, he stood clad in a form that could only be described as apocalyptic. His armor, jagged and nightmarish, seemed forged from the very depths of the underworld. Shadows coiled and twisted around him like living tendrils, and atop his skeletal visage sat a grim, bladed crown—one that oozed a malevolent authority. Above him hovered a dread-inducing halo, an aberrant, twisting circle of darkness that seemed to devour the very light around it.

Without a word, Momon extended his armored arm into the void, and reality itself split open. From the swirling abyss, he drew forth a sword—one that did not belong in this world. Its blade pulsed with a dark, eerie glow, its surface adorned with glowing runes that seemed to whisper in an ancient, forgotten tongue. It was not just a weapon—it was an omen of annihilation.

The sky above Seirai Island crackled and howled, unable to contain the unfathomable power radiating from the two combatants. The very air distorted, space itself bending under the pressure of their divine presence. The floating islands that had once remained suspended in tranquil defiance of gravity were now being hurled away, crashing into one another or falling into the abyss below.

From every corner of Inazuma, eyes turned skyward.

The people of Narukami Island, from the streets of Inazuma City to the distant peaks of Mt. Yougou, gazed upon the spectacle with awe and terror. Fishermen along the shores, soldiers on other islands, shrine maidens at the Grand Narukami Shrine—all froze as their eyes locked onto the twin spheres of energy illuminating the heavens above Seirai Island.

One, a seething storm of violet lightning, an unyielding embodiment of eternity.

The other, a swirling abyss of pure darkness, the inexorable march of death incarnate.

The gods themselves had taken the battlefield, and Inazuma would bear witness to a war beyond mortal comprehension.

The two spheres of unimaginable power—one a storm of eternal lightning, the other an abyss of pure annihilation—expanded rapidly, their energies swelling to an uncontainable crescendo. Then, with a force that shattered the heavens, they collided.

A blinding eruption of violet and black erupted outward, swallowing the sky and sea alike. For a moment, time itself seemed to shatter. A soundless vacuum followed—a moment of unnatural silence, as though the world held its breath.

Then came the detonation.

A catastrophic shockwave roared through Inazuma, tearing through the air like a divine decree of destruction. The sheer force of the impact sent tsunamis racing across the ocean, their towering waves smashing into distant shores. Even the sky fractured—clouds were blown apart, and the once-stormy heavens over Seirai Island turned into an expanding, chaotic void of light and darkness.

From the far reaches of Watatsumi Island to the heart of Narukami Island, every single person felt the earth tremble beneath their feet. The people of Watatsumi and Narukami alike were forced to shield their eyes as the explosion's brightness outshone the midday sun, turning the entire sky white for an instant.

At the highest peak of Watatsumi Island, where the grand shrine stood amidst the cascading waterfalls, Sangonomiya Kokomi had been watching the battle unfold. The strategist, who had seen wars and devastation before, now found herself witnessing something beyond any battlefield she could have imagined.

As the light faded, she lowered her arm, her wide, cerulean eyes locking onto the unimaginable sight before her.

"By the heavens… what is happening?!" Kokomi gasped, stepping back. She could feel the overwhelming energy even from here, pressing down like an invisible weight. The ocean churned violently, reflecting the chaotic remnants of the clash in its restless waves.

Meanwhile, on Narukami Island, terror gripped the citizens as they scrambled for shelter. The explosion had been so close that it felt as though the world itself was ending. Windows shattered, trees bent under the force of the wind, and even the sturdy walls of Tenshukaku trembled.

At the Grand Narukami Shrine, Guuji Yae Miko stood beneath the sacred sakura tree, her usual playful demeanor stripped away as she gazed toward Seirai Island. Her eyes narrowed as she felt the full magnitude of the battle's destruction.

"Even Ei has never unleashed such devastation…" she murmured, gripping the sleeve of her ceremonial robes as the winds howled around her.

Elsewhere, on the outskirts of Inazuma City, Aether and Paimon finally saw the full, horrifying extent of what had transpired.

The island of Seirai—once a land of storms and remnants of the past—was gone.

Not destroyed. Not reduced to ruins.

It had been utterly erased.

The ocean now stretched endlessly where land had once stood, a massive crater in its place, as if the gods themselves had torn it from existence. The very fabric of the world trembled at the void left behind, where raw, unstable energy still crackled like remnants of a divine catastrophe.

Paimon floated beside Aether, her small hands covering her mouth, unable to form words. Her eyes were wide with sheer disbelief.

Aether clenched his fists, his golden gaze locked onto the void where Seirai Island once stood. He knew Momon was powerful—stronger than any human, stronger than any warrior he had ever met. But to face an Archon in battle and cause this level of destruction…

Was this the true extent of Momon's power?

Aether swallowed. He wanted to feel pride. Momon was his companion, a force to be reckoned with, someone he had fought alongside. And yet…

A shiver ran down his spine.

This power. This sheer, unrestrained might.

It wasn't just awe-inspiring.

It was terrifying.

Raiden Ei's massive ethereal arm, hovering behind her like the embodiment of divine wrath, moved with terrifying precision. A barrage of slashes, each crackling with untamed lightning, erupted forth in an unrelenting storm, streaking through the sky like divine decrees of annihilation.

Each arc of her blade split the air itself, leaving behind afterimages of violet radiance, while jagged bolts of lightning rained down in her wake, seeking to obliterate her opponent.

Yet, like a specter of death itself, Momon moved.

His armored form shot through the storm of slashes and lightning, his speed defying reason. The air behind him twisted and burned from the sheer force of his acceleration, the world struggling to keep up with his presence.

In mere moments, he closed the distance, Doom Blade in hand, and swung.

CLANG!

The massive katana of Raiden Ei and Momon's nightmarish blade met in a devastating collision. The impact released a spherical shockwave so vast, so consuming, that the ocean itself recoiled, creating massive tidal waves that threatened to crash onto distant shores.

The very fabric of the sky trembled. A ripple of destruction expanded outward, evaporating everything in its path.

And yet, Momon pushed forward.

Raiden Ei narrowed her eyes. Even in her absolute form, even as the Baleful Shadowlord, she could feel it—he was forcing her back. A being who should not exist, whose power defied all logic, was matching her strike for strike, and worse… he was gaining ground.

Her expression darkened.

"Puppet Shadow."

The command echoed through the heavens as a dark violet mass of energy materialized from her hand. Like a living void, it lunged at Momon, wrapping around him, constricting him like a god's judgment. The shadow pulsated with raw, lethal energy, each pulse crashing against him like an earthquake.

But it did nothing.

Momon remained unmoving, utterly unaffected.

The shadow twitched, as if aware of its own failure. In response, it shifted, expanding and reshaping until it became a massive spectral hand.

With the force of an entire mountain, it slammed into Momon from the side.

The impact sent him hurtling across the sky like a meteor, a streak of darkness against the storm-lit heavens. The sheer force of the blow sent shockwaves in every direction, distorting the clouds and causing tremors across the lands below.

Still, there was no damage.

Momon did not feel pain. He did not feel exhaustion. He merely adjusted his posture mid-air, already prepared to retaliate.

But Raiden Ei was faster.

"Slash Flurry!"

She became a flash of violet, materializing above him in an instant. Her massive blade moved with incomprehensible speed, splitting into countless afterimages as she unleashed a relentless storm of slashes.

Each strike rained down upon Momon with the weight of a god's fury, the force of her blows hammering him toward the ground below.

BOOM!

Momon landed on Yashiori Island with the impact of a falling star. The ground beneath him shattered, splitting apart in an eruption of dust and debris. A wide crater formed around him, its sheer size a testament to the overwhelming force of the battle.

But Momon, standing tall in the center of the devastation, remained unharmed.

As the dust settled, his crimson gaze flicked to the edges of the crater.

Soldiers.

Dozens—no, hundreds of them—stood frozen in place, their weapons trembling in their hands. Warriors from both Inazuma's forces and Watatsumi's rebellion had been locked in battle only moments ago, but now… they could only stare in sheer horror at the armored figure before them.

For the first time in their lives, they understood what true power was.

And then, she arrived.

High above, Raiden Ei hovered in the sky, her divine presence casting a long, inescapable shadow over the battlefield. Every soldier fell silent, their breath stolen by the sheer magnitude of the scene before them.

The Archon. The God of Eternity. The embodiment of Inazuma's will… in her absolute form.

Even the most hardened warriors, those who had fought for years without fear, felt the weight of impending death upon them.

And then came the strike that would define history.

"Downward Slash."

The heavens ignited.

From above, Ei brought down her charged blade, an immense arc of pure, concentrated lightning descending upon Yashiori Island like divine retribution.

The very air was torn apart by the force of the attack. The energy crackled and roared, splitting the sky open as if it would swallow the world whole. The sheer scale of it dwarfed anything that mortals could comprehend.

If it landed, Yashiori Island would be cut in half—just as it had been centuries ago when the Serpent God Orobashi fell.

Momon's gaze hardened.

He had no interest in this human civil war. The lives of these soldiers meant nothing to him. And yet… they were about to be erased. Turned to dust in the wake of a god's fury.

Unacceptable.

Momon raised his Doom Blade.

"[Void Cut]"

He swung.

Reality itself shattered.

A vertical gash tore through the very fabric of existence. The air distorted, folding in on itself as though the blade had severed the threads of time and space. Beyond the cut, a swirling void appeared—a glimpse into the abyss, where galaxies swirled in an endless ocean of nothingness.

The moment Ei's divine strike touched the void… it vanished.

Erased.

The lightning slash, powerful enough to split the island in two, was devoured by the abyss, swallowed into nothingness as though it had never existed.

Silence.

The entire battlefield—both armies, both gods—stood frozen.

Even Ei's expression shifted slightly.

Momon exhaled, canceling the [Void Cut] before its power could erase more than necessary. The tear in space collapsed, sealing itself, leaving only the stunned silence of those who had just witnessed the impossible.

Then, his voice rang out like a death knell.

"You foolish woman!"

His voice carried across the battlefield, echoing in every soldier's ears.

"You would have slaughtered your own army in your arrogance."

Raiden Ei remained unmoving, her expression unreadable.

"I have no interest in the conflicts of mortals," she finally spoke, her voice reverberating with divine authority.

Momon's grip on his sword tightened.

"Neither do I."

And yet, the battlefield had witnessed something far greater than a war between mortals.

They had just seen two gods clash.

And one of them had defied Eternity.

Momon launched himself like a comet at Raiden Ei, the sheer force of his movement igniting the air around him. Their collision in the sky was cataclysmic, a blinding explosion of energy that sent cracks spiraling through the heavens. The battlefield below was momentarily forgotten—soldiers, warriors, and even trained generals turned and fled in all directions, their resolve shattering under the relentless shockwaves that rippled across the island.

Every strike between the two sent concussive blasts rolling outward, toppling trees, ripping apart the land, and sending tidal waves crashing against Inazuma's shores. The skies crackled with raw power, purple lightning and void-black energy intertwining as the combatants moved faster than the eye could follow, clashing again and again like dueling titans.

Raiden Ei wielded her Musou Isshin with unrelenting fury, her blade slicing through the void with precision, arcs of brilliant violet light trailing each motion. She unleashed wave after wave of pure electro-energy, each pulse meant to force Momon back, to sear his very essence with the might of the Shogun herself. But he did not falter.

Momon advanced through the storm of power, his crimson eyes gleaming beneath the eerie glow of his helmet. He was relentless, closing the distance between them despite the roaring surges of electricity that should have turned a lesser being into dust. His skeletal fingers tightened into a fist as he moved to strike, but then—something caught his attention.

Below them, amidst the ruins of their devastation, lay the massive, weathered skull of an ancient serpent—a dragon, a god, a creature long since fallen. Its presence called to him, and a dark thought formed in his mind. Without hesitation, he vanished, teleporting atop the great remains.

Raiden Ei halted in midair, her expression darkening as her gaze followed him. A terrible realization dawned upon her as she beheld the skull of her slain foe.

"You," she muttered under her breath, gripping her sword tighter. "What are you doing?"

Momon raised a gauntleted hand and placed it upon the cold, weathered bone. A deep pulse of magic surged forth, an unholy glow emanating from his palm as he invoked the incantation:

"[Create Undead]"

The island trembled violently, as though the land itself recoiled in horror at what was about to unfold. The very bones of the ancient god seemed to shudder, as if waking from a nightmare. Then, a horrifying screech echoed through the air—an otherworldly, guttural sound that made even the bravest warriors freeze in terror.

The skeletal remains of Orobashi lurched, the vast, winding structure of its body beginning to rise from the earth. Red orbs ignited within its hollow eye sockets, and its enormous jaws creaked open in a silent snarl. Ancient bones groaned as they shifted, reshaping into something unnatural, something cursed. The very air around the beast turned deathly cold as its immense frame coiled, ready to strike.

Raiden Ei felt her breath hitch. A rare flicker of something she had long suppressed—unease. She had slain Orobashi long ago, ending his rebellion, sealing his fate beneath the waves. And now, he stood before her once more, an abomination animated by necromantic will.

"You…" Ei's voice was low, almost a whisper, but heavy with restrained fury. "What have you done?!"

Momon stood tall upon the colossal skull, his presence like that of a dark sovereign surveying his domain. His crimson gaze bore into Ei's, and for a moment, silence reigned before he spoke, his voice smooth, calculating.

"I have merely reclaimed a resource," he said, tilting his head slightly. "You killed this creature once right? It was nothing more than a lifeless husk. Now, it serves a purpose once more."

Ei's grip on Musou Isshin tightened, knuckles turning white. Lightning crackled around her form, her presence growing sharper, more dangerous. "You dare desecrate the remains of a god?" she spat. "Orobashi's soul has long since passed. What you've done is nothing more than a twisted mockery."

Momon let out a soft, mirthless chuckle. "A 'mockery,' you say?" he mused. "No, Miss Shogun. This is strategy. I do not bring back souls—I raise warriors, weapons." He gestured to the towering skeletal serpent. "This snake is no longer bound by the weakness of life. He does not remember pain, nor sorrow, nor rebellion. He only knows one thing: my command."

Orobashi's empty gaze turned toward Raiden Ei. There was no recognition in those hollow sockets—only an unwavering, deathly focus on the one his new master deemed an enemy.

With a guttural roar that shook the entirety of Inazuma, Orobashi lunged.

Ei barely had time to react before the massive creature slammed into her, its sheer force sending her hurtling backward through the sky. She gritted her teeth, bracing against the overwhelming pressure as she struggled to halt her momentum. But Orobashi did not relent.

The undead serpent drove her back, past the storm-wrecked islands, past the trembling forests, forcing her toward Watatsumi Island. There, amidst the coral-pink landscape, the people of Watatsumi watched in frozen terror as the god they worshiped—their sacred protector—returned as a monstrous revenant of war.

Sangonomiya Kokomi stood at the edge of the cliffs, her breath caught in her throat. She could scarcely believe what her eyes beheld. Orobashi… their Orobashi… was alive. No, not alive. A puppet of undeath, its sacred form twisted into something beyond comprehension.

The realization hit her like a tidal wave: this battle was no longer confined to the distant shores. It had come to them.

"Get the people to safety!" she commanded, her voice snapping her soldiers out of their trance. "Now!"

Meanwhile, high above, Ei finally managed to break free from Orobashi's crushing assault. She raised her blade, electricity arcing in all directions, her resolve solidifying.

"You insolent snake," she growled, eyes blazing with fury. "I will cut you to pieces just as I did centuries ago."

A deep, knowing chuckle echoed from above. Standing upon Orobashi's colossal skull, Momon regarded her with something resembling amusement.

"Oh, really?" he mused, tilting his head. "That does sound impressive."

Ei glared at him, her patience wearing thin. "You truly believe you can stand against me? Is reviving my nemesis the extent of your tricks?"

Momon exhaled as if pondering the question. Then, with a chilling smirk beneath his helm, he answered, "Reviving your nemesis? Oh, no, Miss Shogun… this is merely a demonstration." He gestured to the undead behemoth beneath him. "Orobashi is nothing more than a tool, a fraction of my power."

Ei narrowed her eyes. "How many more of these tricks do you have hidden up your sleeves?"

Momon chuckled darkly. "You have no idea, Miss Shogun."

Orobashi struck with blinding speed, its massive skeletal jaws clamping down on Raiden Ei before she could react. The shock of the impact sent a thunderous boom across the battlefield, shaking the very foundation of Watatsumi Island. The undead serpent, now a harbinger of Momon's will, coiled its massive body around her, dragging her downward like a predator seizing its prey.

Ei gritted her teeth, feeling the razor-like bone fangs press into her. The sensation was unnatural, as if the very essence of death was trying to consume her. But she was the God of Eternity—she would not fall so easily.

With a sharp breath, she summoned a surge of electro energy, her body glowing with violet lightning as she slashed through Orobashi's jagged teeth, shattering them like brittle stone. The force of her attack sent shockwaves through the skeletal beast, forcing it to loosen its grip. Seizing the moment, she propelled herself upward with divine speed, breaking free from the undead monstrosity's grasp. The serpent, undeterred, dove through the cascading waterfall of Sangonomiya Shrine, descending into the shadowy depths of Enkanomiya with Momon standing motionless upon its head.

Ei's eyes darkened. "Not this place..." she whispered, recognizing the entrance to the forsaken realm beneath Inazuma. The forgotten land—a place of secrets and sorrow.

As Orobashi plunged deeper into the eerie, mist-filled abyss, she followed, streaking after them like a comet of pure lightning. The deeper they went, the more the world around them transformed. The sky vanished, replaced by an endless cavern bathed in a ghostly glow. Ancient ruins, half-buried in mist, stood as silent witnesses to their battle. The void beneath them stretched into infinity, swallowing all light, a never-ending abyss.

But Ei had no time to think. She called forth her divine authority. "Clap!" The sound of her voice echoed like a judgment from the heavens. Two colossal hands, formed from raw divine energy, manifested above Orobashi's skull. In an instant, they crashed together with a force beyond comprehension.

The impact was cataclysmic. The undead serpent's skull caved in, shattered into countless fragments that dissolved into blackened dust. Its enormous body writhed for a moment, then spiraled downward into the abyss, vanishing into the eternal void below.

Ei hovered in the air, breathing heavily, her gaze locked onto the only remaining threat—Momon.

Only silence followed. For a moment, Ei allowed herself to breathe. But then—

A surge of dark energy erupted before her. Without hesitation, she raised Musou Isshin, just in time to block the incoming strike. Momon's Doom Blade clashed against her weapon, the force sending her hurtling through the air like a meteor. The impact sent her crashing through the ancient ruins of Enkanomiya, collapsing stone pillars and ancient statues in her wake.

Dust filled the air. Ei groaned as she struggled to rise from the rubble. Blood trickled down her lips; her armor had shattered, leaving her in her battle-worn undergarments, her body riddled with bruises and cuts. Her breath was ragged, and even her immortal body could feel the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her. She clutched Musou Isshin for support, its once-glorious glow flickering.

Momon, however, descended toward her, landing so lightly it was as if he were merely a feather drifting down from the heavens. He regarded her carefully, arms folded behind his back, expression unreadable.

"Do you want to continue?" he asked, his voice calm, almost patient.

Ei gritted her teeth. "Do I have another choice?" she spat, forcing herself to stand tall despite the pain lancing through her body.

"You could just accept defeat."

She chuckled weakly, coughing as more blood spilled from her lips. "Heh… defeat…" she whispered. "I'd rather choose death."

Momon tilted his head slightly, as if pondering her words. Then he shook his head. "As expected. But I'm not here to kill another nation's ruler," he said simply. "I'm just an adventurer."

Ei blinked in disbelief, staring at him. Then, despite the pain, she let out a laugh—a genuine, amused laugh that echoed through the ancient ruins. "An adventurer?" she repeated, her voice dripping with disbelief. "Pff, hahaha–cough, cough–" She barely managed to stop herself from collapsing.

Momon got confused. "What's so funny?"

"You wield power capable of defeating the God of Eternity," she said between breaths, wiping the blood from her mouth. "And yet you casually call yourself an adventurer… as if you had merely taken a commission to fight a god."

Momon crossed his arms. "Ah. So you admit defeat, then."

Ei hesitated. She had, without realizing it. But she could not let it end so unceremoniously.

"I'll admit defeat…" she said slowly, narrowing her eyes at him. "But only if you are able to block my most powerful attack—one last time."

Momon did not hesitate. "Very well."

With that, he released his armor. It disappeared like mist, revealing his skeletal form again. The ominous, black void that filled his eye sockets gleamed with an otherworldly glow. Dressed in only his battle-worn pants and boots, he stood there, unaffected, the embodiment of an immortal force.

He stretched out his arms as if welcoming the strike. "Go ahead."

Ei inhaled deeply, pushing away the pain. Her body began to glow, arcs of purple lightning surging around her like a violent storm. This was it—her ultimate attack, the one that even gods would fear.

With a wave aura as lightning crackled wildly around her. The very air trembled in anticipation of the godly strike she was about to unleash.

"The Final Calamity!"

A great portal, shaped like an ominous eye, materialized behind her, rippling with raw divine energy. From its abyssal depths, a colossal arm wielding an otherworldly katana emerged, its presence alone warping reality. The blade hummed with boundless destructive power, an instrument of judgment forged by the very essence of eternity.

The giant katana came down with an earth-shattering horizontal slash, cleaving through the ruins of Enkanomiya itself, sundering stone and shattering the ground as it tore toward Momon with the force of the heavens themselves.

But Momon did not flinch. His skeletal fingers moved gracefully as he uttered a single spell:

"[God's Hand]."

The moment the words left his imaginary lips, everything turned white.

All sound ceased. Time itself seemed to stop. The universe held its breath.

Then, silence...

Chapter Text

The skies above Watatsumi Island were heavy with an unnatural tension, the air thick with the residual energy of the cataclysmic clash that had just unfolded. The once serene horizon was now marred by the lingering aftermath of two godlike beings descending into the depths, their power so immense that it had caused the very earth to tremble and crack. The waterfall that cascaded into the abyss leading to Enkanomiya roared louder than ever, as if mourning the disturbance of its ancient sanctity. The ground, though now still, bore the scars of the violent quakes that had shaken the island to its core. The citizens of Watatsumi huddled together, their faces pale with fear, their whispers filled with dread and uncertainty. The world they knew seemed to be unraveling before their eyes.

Sangonomiya Kokomi, the Divine Priestess of Watatsumi Island, stood at the edge of the cliff overlooking the waterfall. Her usually calm and composed demeanor was fractured, her hands trembling as she clutched her ceremonial staff. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of the chaos that had erupted. The sight of the two beings—entities of unimaginable power—descending into the depths of Enkanomiya had left her shaken to her core. She could still feel the echoes of their clash reverberating through the air, a reminder that the fragile balance of their world had been shattered.

"Your Excellency!" a familiar voice called out, breaking through her thoughts. Kokomi turned to see General Gorou of the Watatsumi Army approaching, his usual steadfast expression now etched with concern. His armor was scuffed, and his fur was matted with sweat and dirt, evidence of the battles he had fought on Yashiori Island. Yet, despite his weariness, his presence was a comforting sight amidst the chaos.

"Gorou!" Kokomi exclaimed, her voice a mixture of relief and urgency. "It's good to see you at such a moment. I was worried about you and the others."

Gorou bowed his head respectfully, his ears twitching slightly as he straightened. "We had to retreat from Yashiori Island, Your Excellency. The battle there was nothing compared to the madness that erupted when those two… beings appeared. The skies split, the ground shook, and even our enemies fled in terror. It was as if the world itself was tearing apart."

Kokomi's eyes darkened as she nodded, her gaze drifting back to the waterfall. "The mortal wars we fight are but a fleeting distraction to beings like them. What we witnessed… it was the Raiden Shogun, locked in combat with something—or someone—else. And… I believe the other was the reanimated corpse of Lord Orobashi."

Gorou's eyes widened in disbelief, his tail stiffening. "Lord Orobashi? But how could that be? He was slain centuries ago. His remains are enshrined on Yashiori Island. How could he possibly return?"

Kokomi sighed, her grip tightening on her staff. "I don't have the answers, Gorou. This is a battle of gods, and their rules are beyond our understanding. What I do know is that their clash has awakened something ancient, something that should have remained buried. The tremors we felt… they weren't just from their fight. Something is stirring in the depths of Enkanomiya."

Gorou's expression hardened, his loyalty and determination shining through. "Whatever it is, we'll face it together, Your Excellency. Watatsumi Island has endured countless trials, and we'll endure this one as well."

Kokomi offered him a small, grateful smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Thank you, Gorou. Your courage gives me strength. But we must prepare for the worst. The balance of power has shifted, and I fear that what we've seen so far is only the beginning."

As if to underscore her words, the ground beneath them began to tremble once more, a low, ominous rumble that grew in intensity. Kokomi's eyes darted to the ocean surrounding Watatsumi Island, her heart sinking as she saw the once calm waters churning violently. The waves rose and fell like the breaths of a colossal beast, and the surface of the water began to bubble and froth as if it were boiling.

"What's going on?!" Kokomi exclaimed, her voice barely audible over the growing roar of the ocean. The water turned an eerie, milky white, and from its depths, blinding rays of light erupted, piercing the sky and illuminating the island in an otherworldly glow.

"Your Excellency, get back!" Gorou shouted, his instincts kicking in as he stepped in front of Kokomi, his body shielding her from the unknown threat. His hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword, though he knew that no blade could protect them from whatever was happening.

Kokomi's eyes widened as she peered over Gorou's shoulder, her breath catching in her throat. The ocean was no longer just water—it was a living, writhing entity, and from its depths, massive shapes began to emerge. Islands, impossibly large and ancient, rose from the depths, their surfaces gleaming with an ethereal light. One by one, they ascended into the sky, defying gravity as they hovered above the ocean, casting long shadows over Watatsumi Island.

"This… this can't be…" Kokomi whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of awe and fear. She stepped out from behind Gorou, her staff glowing faintly as if responding to the energy radiating from the floating islands. Her mind raced, piecing together the fragments of ancient texts and legends she had studied. And then it hit her.

"Gorou… this is..." she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The lost civilization, the ancient realm that lies beneath the ocean… it's rising. Kokomi took a slow step forward, her lips trembling as she forced the words out. "This... this is Enkanomiya. It has... returned."

The two stood in silence, their eyes fixed on the floating islands as they loomed over Watatsumi Island like ancient sentinels. The air was thick with an oppressive energy, and the once vibrant colors of the island seemed to dim in the presence of the risen realm.

Raiden Ei's consciousness drifted on the edge of oblivion, her body weightless as if suspended in a vast emptiness. The last thing she remembered was the blinding arc of her final strike, the culmination of her might as the God of Eternity. Yet, even that was not enough.

A sharp, biting wind lashed at her face, stinging her skin and rousing her from unconsciousness. Her violet eyes fluttered open, met not with the infinite void of Enkanomiya, but with an endless expanse of brilliant blue sky. For a moment, she stared in confusion, her mind struggling to reconcile what she saw. Where was the bleak abyss? The pale, drifting mist of the sunken ruins? How had she ended up beneath the open heavens?

Then, before she could gather her thoughts, the shrill whistle of something cutting through the air reached her ears.

Shing!

A blade slashed through the ancient stone pillar beneath her, carving a deep, merciless line just inches from her right cheek. A flash of silver steel embedded itself beside her, vibrating from the force of its throw. Recognition struck her instantly—Musou Isshin.

Slowly, carefully, she turned her gaze in the direction the blade had come from.

There, standing amidst the rubble and dust of the battlefield, was the one she had fought so fiercely. The one who had bested her. The one who now loomed over her like an omen of inevitable defeat.

Momon.

A being unlike anything she had ever encountered.

He strode forward with an eerie grace, his skeletal form gleamed brightly under the midday sun. The sharp angles of his skull-like visage were devoid of flesh, yet his movements carried the weight of an overwhelming presence. Every step he took exuded an air of absolute control—an aura that sent a shiver through even the most hardened warrior's spine.

And yet, he was no mere bringer of destruction.

As he stopped a few feet from her, his hollow eyes glowed with an unnatural crimson light. Not with malice, nor with mockery, but with something eerily close to curiosity. Then, in a voice as composed as it was unreadable, he spoke.

"This was a tough battle, Miss Shogun." His tone carried a measured respect, neither boasting nor belittling. "I have learned much from your swordsmanship in this fight. You have my thanks."

Ei remained still for a moment, processing the words. Then, with a slow breath, she sat up, brushing dust from her armor.

"Please do not jest," she muttered, her voice steady but laced with exhaustion. "I was never even close to striking you. This battle was one-sided from the start."

Momon tilted his head slightly, as if considering her words. Then, instead of continuing to tower over her, he moved with deliberate ease and sat beside her, resting his back against the fractured pillar.

The silence that followed was strange, almost unnatural. She stole a glance at him, her gaze tracing the contours of his skeletal frame. The way he sat, legs stretched out before him, shoulders slightly slumped—it was an odd juxtaposition of deathly appearance and casual poise.

For a moment, she struggled to comprehend it. A being of such power, of such absolute devastation, carrying himself like nothing more than an adventurer on a midday break?

Her hands curled into fists against her lap.

"You… what are you?" she asked at last, her voice barely above a whisper. "You are no god, yet you are more powerful than one. You are not human, yet you walk among them. A mortal should not have bested me, but neither should an immortal. So tell me, Momon—what exactly am I looking at?"

"I am an undead. That's it," Momon said, his voice calm, unaffected by the wind that howled across the broken battlefield.

Ei turned to him, her amethyst eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to make sense of his words. "That's it?" she repeated, her voice tinged with both confusion and disbelief. "You're an undead, and that's all there is to it? No grand purpose, no divine mission, no hidden agenda?"

Momon tilted his head slightly, the faint glow within his skeletal frame flickering like a dying ember. "What else do you want me to say?" he asked, his tone almost amused. "Should I spin a tale of tragedy and loss? Should I claim to be a fallen god, cursed to walk the earth for eternity? Or perhaps I should declare myself a harbinger of doom, destined to bring about the end of all things?"

Ei's lips pressed into a thin line, her expression a mixture of frustration and curiosity. "You speak as if your existence is trivial," she said, her voice sharp. "But you wield power that rivals the gods. You defeated me, the Electro Archon, as if it were nothing. How can you dismiss yourself so easily?"

Momon let out a low, rumbling sound that might have been a chuckle. "Power does not define what I am," he said simply. "I am an undead. A being who exists beyond the boundaries of life and death. That is all."

Ei's brow furrowed as she studied him, her mind racing to reconcile his words with the sheer magnitude of his power. "But why do you not call yourself a god?" she pressed. "You possess immortality, invincibility, and strength that surpasses even the most ancient of beings. By any measure, you are divine."

Momon turned to face her fully, his skeletal visage unreadable yet somehow expressive. "What actually makes a god, Miss Shogun?" he asked, his voice carrying a weight that seemed to echo through the very air around them. "Is it immortality? The ability to live forever, untouched by time? Is it invincibility? The power to stand against any foe, unyielding and unbroken? Or is it being unstoppable? The capacity to reshape the world according to your will?"

Ei opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. She had always believed that a god was defined by their dominion over the elements, their eternal existence, and their ability to shape the world. But now, faced with Momon's questions, she found herself questioning the very foundation of her beliefs.

Momon continued, his tone calm yet piercing. "Immortality is not unique to gods. There are beings who live for centuries, even millennia, without ever ascending to divinity. Invincibility is a fleeting concept—even the strongest can be brought low by the right circumstances. And being unstoppable? That is merely a matter of perspective. No one is truly unstoppable, not even the gods."

Ei's gaze dropped to the ground, her mind racing as she processed his words. "Then what does make a god?" she asked quietly, almost to herself.

Momon leaned back against the pillar, his skeletal fingers drumming lightly on the hilt of the Musou Isshin. "A god is not defined by power alone," he said. "A god is defined by belief. By the faith of those who worship them, by the ideals they embody, and by the legacy they leave behind. Without belief, a god is nothing more than a powerful being. And with belief, even the weakest can ascend to divinity."

Ei's eyes widened as his words struck a chord deep within her. She had always seen herself as the embodiment of eternity, the unchanging pillar upon which Inazuma was built. But now, she wondered if her vision of eternity had blinded her to the true nature of divinity. Had she become so focused on preserving the status quo that she had forgotten the importance of growth, change, and the faith of her people?

Momon's voice broke through her thoughts, softer now, almost gentle. "I do not call myself a god because I do not seek worship. I do not seek to embody an ideal or leave a legacy. I am simply an undead, a being who exists outside the cycle of life and death. And that is enough for me."

Ei looked at him, her expression a mixture of awe and uncertainty. "But why?" she asked. "With your power, you could reshape the world. You could become a god, if you wished. Why choose to remain… this?"

Momon's skeletal face seemed to soften, though it was impossible to tell for certain. "Because power is not an end in itself," he said. "It is a tool, a means to an end. And my end is not to rule or to be worshipped. It is simply to exist, to observe, and to learn. The world is vast and full of wonders, Miss Shogun. I have no desire to confine myself to the narrow role of a god."

Ei fell silent, her mind reeling from the weight of his words. For the first time in centuries, she felt a crack in the foundation of her beliefs, a glimmer of doubt that threatened to unravel everything she had built. But alongside that doubt was a spark of something else—something she hadn't felt in a long time. Curiosity. The desire to learn, to grow, to understand.

As the wind carried the whispers of the ancient ruins, Ei and Momon sat together in silence, two beings of immense power, each grappling with the weight of their existence and the uncertain future that lay ahead. And for the first time, Ei found herself wondering if perhaps eternity was not a destination, but a journey—one that required not just strength, but the courage to change.

Momon extended his arm into the swirling abyss of a portal, the dark void shifting like liquid shadow around his skeletal fingers. For a brief moment, the unnatural silence that accompanied his magic sent a ripple of unease through the air—an omen of the immense power he wielded so effortlessly. Then, without a sound, he withdrew his hand, now holding a small glass vial.

The bottle was simple in design, but the liquid inside pulsed with an eerie radiance, a crimson glow swirling like molten ruby beneath the glass. He extended it toward Ei, the gesture almost casual despite the weight of what had just transpired between them.

She hesitated.

Her violet eyes flickered between the potion and the being who had defeated her so easily—an existence unlike anything she had encountered before. The power disparity between them had been absolute, undeniable. He had crushed her strongest attacks as if they were nothing. And now, here he was, offering her aid, as if their battle had been nothing more than a passing skirmish.

She took the vial from his outstretched hand, feeling the cool smoothness of the glass against her fingers.

"What is this?" she asked, her voice steady but edged with caution.

"A Minor Healing Potion," Momon replied, his tone even, matter-of-fact. "You are still wounded. Drink it."

Ei stared at him, searching his expression for any sign of deception—but all she saw was an empty, expressionless skull. His glowing crimson eyes remained fixed on her, unreadable yet strangely… patient.

At this point, there was no room for doubt. She had already seen too much.

Without another word, she uncorked the vial and tipped it back, allowing the thick, almost syrup-like liquid to slide past her lips. It was unlike any medicine she had ever tasted—neither bitter nor sweet, yet impossibly smooth, vanishing down her throat like mist.

The effect was instant.

A surge of warmth exploded within her, radiating outward from her core like a rising sun. The deep cuts across her body glowed with an ethereal light, golden like dawn breaking over the horizon. The pain that had dulled her senses melted away, replaced by a sensation so soothing it felt almost unnatural. Torn muscles knit themselves back together, bruises faded into nothingness, and the exhaustion that had weighed down her limbs dissipated as if it had never been there.

She flexed her fingers, marveling at the seamless restoration. It wasn't just healing—it was as if she had never been injured in the first place.

"…Thank you," Ei murmured, her voice quieter than she intended.

"Think nothing of it," Momon replied, as though he had simply handed her a common remedy rather than a miracle.

Ei rose slowly, the fresh energy coursing through her making the movement effortless. And then—her breath caught in her throat.

She turned, her gaze stretching out to the horizon, and what she saw left her utterly speechless.

The dark abyss of Enkanomiya—the eternal void where the sun never shone, where ancient ruins had been buried in the depths of the sea—was no more.

In its place, massive islands now floated above the waters near Watatsumi Island, colossal landmasses suspended in the sky as if held aloft by the hand of a god.

The sheer scale of it was incomprehensible. Towering rock formations that had once been submerged beneath the waves now stood proud, wreathed in golden sunlight. The forgotten ruins of an ancient civilization, which had once been imprisoned in perpetual darkness, were now bathed in a brilliant azure sky.

It was… impossible.

Yet, it was real.

Her heart pounded in her chest.

She turned sharply toward Momon, her expression filled with disbelief.

"Momon… you can't just—this…" She gestured wildly toward the transformed world, her normally composed demeanor fracturing under the sheer weight of what she was witnessing. "This is the power of a god, Momon. You say you are just an undead, and then you perform a divine miracle. How can you expect me to believe you're anything less?"

The words came out more as an accusation than anything else.

Momon, however, remained unmoved.

His crimson eyes, burning like distant stars, followed the floating islands with an almost idle curiosity, as if he were merely observing a piece of art rather than the result of his own spell. Then, after a moment, he let out a small, amused hum.

"So, what I said before went over your head, huh?" His skeletal mouth did not move, yet his voice carried a hint of wry amusement.

With a fluid, effortless motion, he stood up, stretching his arms before clasping them behind his back. He, too, took in the view, his gaze sweeping across the massive skyborne landmasses.

"This is the first time I've used a spell like this," he admitted, as though he himself had not yet fully processed the extent of his own creation. "The spell is called [God's Hand]. It allows me to manipulate the terrain on a grand scale, to reshape the world as if I were a god. I had my doubts about using it, but it seems to have worked as intended."

Ei could only stare at him.

The sheer casualness of his words—the way he spoke of something so monumental as if it were little more than an experiment—sent a shiver down her spine.

A spell. Just one spell.

If he could do this so effortlessly, then… what were his true limits?

For centuries, she had believed herself to be among the strongest beings in existence. She had clashed with gods, vanquished monstrous foes, and shaped the course of Inazuma's history with her own hands. Yet now, standing beside this being—this undead whose power defied all logic—she felt something she had not felt in a long, long time.

Powerlessness.

It was not fear, not exactly. It was something far more unsettling—a realization that everything she understood about strength, divinity, and the very fabric of reality itself was now being rewritten before her eyes.

Momon was something beyond gods.

And she had no idea what that truly meant.

Momon walked toward the edge of the floating island, his boots barely making a sound against the ancient stone. The winds howled around them, sweeping through the vast sky like an endless tide. The elevation granted him a breathtaking view—dozens of massive islands hovering over the shimmering sea, remnants of a land long forgotten now returned to the light of day by his own hand.

He came to a halt at the very edge, peering down at the world below.

A few meters behind him, Ei followed, her curiosity outweighing the uncertainty still lingering in her heart. As she reached his side, her gaze followed his, and what she saw made her breath hitch.

Below them lay an island covered in lush greenery, its landscape a stark contrast to the artificial stillness of the floating ruins. Towering coral-like trees bathed the land in soft hues of violet and blue, their luminous glow barely visible in the early daylight. A magnificent waterfall cascaded down from the island's elevated center, spilling into the ocean in endless torrents of white mist.

For the first time in five hundred years, Ei looked upon the island of her past.

"What's this island?" Momon asked, his tone neutral yet carrying an undercurrent of curiosity.

Ei took a moment before answering, her voice laced with nostalgia. "This is Watatsumi Island," she said. "We fell into that waterfall while we were fighting. That was the entrance to Enkanomiya—the sacred land buried beneath the ocean's depths." Her fingers lightly traced the hilt of her sword, as if grounding herself in the present. "I have not seen this island from above since… five centuries ago."

Her eyes lingered on the land below, as memories long buried surfaced within her mind.

"The people of Watatsumi… their ancestors once lived in Enkanomiya, exiled from the surface by Celestia itself," she continued. "For them, that land was sacred—a relic of their past, a testament to their survival. And now, thanks to your magic, their ancestral homeland has returned to the skies." She let out a slow breath. "They must be in awe… and terrified."

Momon's gaze didn't waver as he observed the island. The waterfall, the city nestled between coral formations, the people moving about like tiny ants, no doubt shaken by the miraculous upheaval of their world.

Then, as if recalling something, he turned his gaze toward Ei.

"Isn't your Shogunate in a civil war with this island?" he asked, his tone calm but probing.

Ei nodded, a trace of guilt flickering across her expression. "Yes. That's true."

Momon remained silent for a few moments before speaking again.

"You know… this Sakoku Decree and Vision Hunt Decree have made Inazuma a very hostile and grim nation." His voice, though devoid of anger, carried something far worse—disappointment.

Ei clenched her jaw. She had heard such words before, from those who had opposed her, from the people who had suffered under her rule. And yet, coming from him—from an outsider who had no ties to this land—it somehow felt heavier.

"I only wished for Inazuma to remain unchanged," she said, her voice firm but quiet. "To remain free from the erosion of time. That is Eternity."

Momon let out a slow, almost exasperated sigh. He turned to face her fully now, his crimson eyes glowing with an intensity that sent a strange chill through her spine.

"Miss Shogun," he began, his voice steady, measured, yet carrying a weight that made the air feel heavier, "human life barely lasts ninety years. That 'Eternity' you speak of… it's just for you, and no one else."

Ei's fingers twitched slightly at her side.

Momon took a step forward. "The people of Inazuma are struggling. Your nobles rule in your name, but their hands are drenched in corruption. The nation you want to preserve is already decaying from within." He shook his head. "You insist on putting your people through hardship, through suffering, all for something that only you can understand."

He narrowed his gaze.

"I don't know if there's some tragic past that drives you to do this… but if there is, you need to let it go." His words cut through the air like a blade. "Because life goes on."

Ei's breath hitched, her grip tightening around her blade. She wanted to refute him. To deny it. To tell him that he didn't understand, that he couldn't possibly grasp what she had seen, what she had lost.

But then—

"I've seen civilizations rise to their peak," she murmured, her gaze hardening. "Only for them to be wiped away by the Heavenly Principles."

Momon tilted his head slightly. "Let me guess… Khaenri'ah?"

A sharp exhale left her lips. "Yes." Her voice wavered just slightly, betraying a wound long buried. "I lost my sister there. The original Electro Archon—Makoto."

For the first time, Momon was silent.

A beat passed. Then—

"…Sorry for your loss." His voice was softer this time.

Ei turned to look at him, surprised by the shift in his tone. He sounded… sincere.

But then—

"But still," he continued, his voice regaining its steel, "you need to let it go."

She felt her heart tighten.

"Even your sister would want that," he said, his gaze unwavering. "At this point, you're not just hurting yourself. You're hurting your entire nation."

Ei didn't respond. She couldn't.

Her mind raced with everything she had built, everything she had lost. The war, the decree, the pain—had it all truly been meaningless? Was she truly wrong?

She turned away, her gaze shifting back toward the horizon.

Inazuma had become rotten. She had known this. She had seen the cracks forming, had felt the weight of her people's suffering through their eyes, through the voices of those who had dared to oppose her.

But she had turned away. Convinced herself that it was necessary. That she was right.

But now—

Now, she realized that if she wanted Inazuma to change, then she, too, would have to change first.

The wind howled around them, carrying the unspoken words between them into the endless sky.

And for the first time in centuries… Ei felt uncertain.

The city of Inazuma was in disarray, though its people worked tirelessly to restore some sense of normalcy. Buildings lay in ruin, the streets were cracked and scorched, and the scent of burning wood and metal lingered in the air. Yet, despite the devastation, a tense silence had settled over Narukami Island.

For the past three hours, there had been no explosions, no flashes of lightning splitting the sky, no sudden bursts of violent shockwaves that threatened to tear apart what remained of the capital. The battle between the Raiden Shogun and the mysterious warrior known as Momon had begun with the force of a thunderstorm, but now… nothing. The people waited in anxious anticipation, afraid to ask the question on everyone's minds—who had emerged victorious?

Within the heart of the city, Kujou Sara stood at the head of a heavily armed force. Her expression was a mix of frustration and anxiety as she paced, her violet eyes darting toward the direction of the battle. The uncertainty gnawed at her. The Raiden Shogun, the very embodiment of eternity, could not lose. She would not lose. And yet, why had there been no sign of her return?

But there were more immediate matters at hand.

Before her, bound by thick ropes and held under close guard by several samurai, stood Aether, Paimon, and Thoma. They had been captured once again, their previous escape attempt proving futile. This time, the guards took no chances. Aether's arms were restrained behind his back, and a blade pressed lightly against his spine, a constant reminder that a single wrong move could end his life. Paimon, for once, was silent, her small frame trembling with fear and uncertainty. Thoma, though outwardly calm, kept clenching and unclenching his jaw, as if struggling to hold back a sharp retort.

Kujou Sara turned to Aether, eyes burning with suspicion and anger. With a swift motion, she drew her katana and pointed the tip directly at his throat.

"You," she said, her voice cold and razor-sharp. "If anything happens to the Shogun because of you and that monster you brought here, I swear on my life—you will not see the end of this day."

Aether met her gaze without flinching, his golden eyes unwavering. He was no stranger to threats, especially in situations like this. "You think I wanted this to happen?" he asked, his voice calm despite the tension in the air. "Do you honestly believe that I have control over someone like Momon?"

Sara's grip tightened around the hilt of her sword, the muscles in her arm tensing. "That doesn't matter. You led him here. You knew what he was capable of, and yet you stood there, letting him challenge the Shogun."

Aether exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "He challenged her because she attacked first."

Sara's expression darkened, and the air around her seemed to hum with restrained fury. "You expect me to believe that the Shogun would recklessly engage a battle without reason?"

Paimon, who had been hovering as still as a statue, suddenly snapped. "Oh, come on! Do you really think your Shogun never makes mistakes? You guys treat her like she's some all-knowing goddess, but guess what—she's just as flawed as everyone else!"

The tension thickened like a storm cloud ready to burst. The samurai holding Aether stiffened, glancing at Sara for orders. A few of them shifted uncomfortably, their loyalty to the Shogun unwavering, yet unable to deny that Paimon's words stung with truth.

Sara took a slow, measured breath before lowering her sword slightly, though the threat in her gaze remained. "Watch your tongue, floating creature," she warned. "Disrespecting the Shogun is an offense that will not be tolerated."

Thoma, sensing that things were escalating, decided to step in. "Lady Sara," he began, his tone diplomatic but firm, "we're all in the dark about what's happening right now. But lashing out at us isn't going to change anything. If anything, we should be focusing on the bigger picture—what if neither of them have won? What if the battle is still ongoing somewhere we can't see?"

Sara clenched her jaw. The uncertainty was what infuriated her the most. She wanted to believe, needed to believe, that the Raiden Shogun was standing victorious at this very moment. But if that were the case, where was she?

She exhaled sharply, stepping back, though her soldiers remained at the ready. "Then let's hope, for your sake, that she returns soon," she said. "Because if she doesn't… I will make sure that you all pay for it."

The three of them exchanged wary glances. The tension wasn't going to ease anytime soon, but for now, they could do nothing but wait—and pray that the storm brewing on the horizon wasn't worse than the battle that had already passed.

The heavy silence that had settled over Narukami Island was shattered by a sudden commotion. Gasps rippled through the gathered citizens, their whispers growing louder with every passing second. The tension in the air shifted, no longer fueled by fear of battle, but by sheer disbelief.

Kujou Sara's sharp ears caught the murmurs first, and her head snapped toward the source of the disturbance. She saw the samurai parting like waves before an unstoppable force, their rigid discipline faltering as they stepped aside, making way for—

Her heart nearly stopped.

Her sharp, violet eyes widened in shock as she beheld the figures walking toward them.

There, striding forward with unwavering grace, was the Raiden Shogun. Her tall, elegant form was unmistakable—long violet hair cascading down her back, her regal attire still pristine despite the hours of fierce combat. The very sight of her should have been reassuring, should have lifted the weight of uncertainty from Sara's shoulders. And yet…

Beside her walked a dark and foreboding presence.

A towering figure, clad in pitch-black armor that absorbed the faint glow of the torches around them. A tattered gothic cape trailed behind him, its frayed edges fluttering in the breeze, as if whispering secrets of a battlefield long past. A deep hood concealed much of his face, but what little could be seen was an emotionless mask of midnight steel. His very presence radiated power—an undeniable, suffocating weight that made even the most hardened warriors tremble.

Momon.

The enemy. The monster that had battled the Almighty Shogun for hours, shaking the land with their devastating clash.

Kujou Sara's breath caught in her throat. Her fingers twitched at her katana's hilt, but she did not draw it. She couldn't.

There was no way this was happening.

"Shogun?!" she finally managed to exclaim, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Her soldiers were just as stunned, unsure whether to bow in reverence to their leader or raise their weapons against the dark warrior standing at her side.

Just a few feet away, Aether and Paimon had been watching in stunned silence—until realization struck them.

"Momon?!" Paimon's shrill voice cut through the air, her tiny face lighting up with relief.

Aether's golden eyes widened in surprise, then softened. "You're alive…" he murmured, an unmistakable note of relief in his voice.

Thoma, who had been struggling against his captors moments ago, blinked in sheer disbelief at the sight before him. He had expected anything—but not this.

Momon, however, paid no mind to the expressions of shock around him. His deep, commanding voice cut through the air like a blade.

"Hey, you." His masked gaze locked onto the samurai restraining Aether, Paimon, and Thoma. "Release my companions."

A heavy silence followed his words.

The samurai hesitated—only for the briefest of moments—before their hands instinctively moved to obey. They had no choice. The raw authority in his tone left no room for argument. They loosened the bindings, stepping back immediately, as if afraid he might strike them down should they displease him.

Kujou Sara's hands clenched into tight fists. Rage and confusion warred within her, but she could not yet act—not when the Shogun herself stood beside this man and had yet to utter a single command against him.

"What… what is the meaning of this?" she demanded, her voice sharp with frustration. "Almighty Shogun—what is going on?!"

The Raiden Shogun turned to her General, her expression unreadable as her violet gaze met Sara's.

"General," she said, her voice calm, yet carrying an unmistakable weight of authority. "I want you to summon all the Clans to Tenshukaku… immediately."

Sara froze.

The Clans? All of them?

Such a command was not issued lightly. It meant something unprecedented had occurred—something that could reshape the very foundation of Inazuma.

Still, though her mind swirled with a thousand questions, she knew better than to defy a direct order from her Shogun.

She clenched her fist over her heart, bowing her head. "As you command."

Without another word, she turned on her heel and marched away, barking orders at her troops as she moved.

Yet even as she carried out her duty, she could not shake the unease crawling up her spine.

Something had changed.

And she had a terrible feeling that Inazuma would never be the same again.

Chapter Text

After Raiden Ei withdrew to Tenshukaku for solitude and meditation, the city remained in a hushed, uneasy state. The battle had ended, but its echoes still lingered in the minds of the people.

Momon stood among the streets of Inazuma City, his presence an undeniable force that made the very air feel heavier. The citizens dared not approach too closely, their eyes filled with awe, disbelief, and a thin veil of fear.

They had seen it.

The Honorary Knight—this enigmatic, dark warrior—had clashed against the Almighty Raiden Shogun herself. The battle had been beyond comprehension, beyond anything written in the history of Inazuma. Shockwaves had torn through the skies, bolts of lightning had scorched the land, and the very fabric of reality seemed to tremble beneath their might.

Now, standing here amidst the very city he had nearly reduced to rubble through sheer power, Momon's form was even more imposing. His towering figure, cloaked in his gothic hooded cape, cast a long shadow under the setting sun. His presence alone radiated an overwhelming pressure—something primal, something incomprehensible. It was as if the air itself refused to move freely around him.

The citizens whispered among themselves, exchanging wary glances. Even the samurai stationed nearby did not dare meet his gaze for too long.

Aether, Thoma, and Paimon stood beside him, still trying to process everything that had just transpired.

It was Aether who finally broke the silence.

"Momon… I am out of words, man," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "That was truly something else."

Thoma let out a nervous chuckle, still clearly overwhelmed by what he had just witnessed. "I don't think even the wildest novels could ever describe a fight like that. That wasn't just a battle—it was something straight out of a legend. And you were in the middle of it."

"That power is insane," Paimon added, throwing her tiny hands up. "Paimon couldn't even tell when or where you two were fighting! You were so fast that it was like you were blinking in and out of existence! One second, we'd hear a boom, and then the next thing we knew, the entire city was shaking from the impact of your attacks! Seriously, how does anyone do that?!"

Momon, however, remained calm. He listened to their words, but his reaction was not one of arrogance, nor even pride. Instead, he exhaled, as if lost in thought, before offering an answer that left everyone stunned.

"To tell you the truth," he said, his deep voice unwavering, "I was actually enjoying that fight."

Aether blinked. Paimon froze mid-air. Thoma visibly stiffened.

Even the citizens who had been watching from a safe distance gasped in shock.

Enjoying—?

Aether took a step closer, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. "Wait… what?"

Momon tilted his head slightly, as if pondering his own words. "It's been a long time since I've faced an opponent that truly pushed me. Raiden Shogun was… formidable. Her skill with the sword, her mastery over the Electro element, her raw power—it was exhilarating to stand against her. It was a pleasure to fight her."

Thoma's face twisted with disbelief. "You say that like you were just sparring with an old friend!"

"You do realize that she's a god, right?" Paimon interjected, eyes wide with exasperation. "Like, not just some powerful warrior—she's literally an Archon! One of the most powerful beings in Teyvat! And you're telling us you were just—enjoying yourself?!"

Momon merely nodded, unfazed by their reactions.

"And," he continued, his voice growing quieter, yet somehow more unsettling, "while fighting her, I came to a realization."

Aether furrowed his brows. "What realization?"

Momon exhaled slowly as if contemplating his words carefully.

"I just realized… how average I am as a warrior."

Dead silence.

Aether, Thoma, and Paimon all stopped walking. Their expressions were frozen in sheer disbelief.

The citizens, still within hearing distance, were just as stunned. Several people even gasped.

Aether blinked. Once. Twice.

"Wait. Hold on," Aether said, holding up his hands as if trying to process what he had just heard. "Did you just say—"

"Average?" Paimon squawked, eyes nearly bulging out of her head. "You? You think you're average?!"

Thoma ran a hand through his hair, looking absolutely dumbfounded. "Momon… you just fought an Archon. You fought Raiden Shogun as if it were nothing. You two were moving at mindblowing speed, causing shockwaves strong enough to be felt across the entire Teyvat. And you think that's average?"

Momon simply nodded.

"Yes."

Paimon threw her hands up in defeat. "Okay! Nope! Paimon is done! Paimon can't process this anymore!"

Aether, still trying to wrap his head around Momon's mindset, let out a heavy sigh. "I don't know whether to be impressed… or terrified."

Momon simply walked forward, unaffected by their reactions. His crimson gaze, hidden beneath his mask, held no arrogance—only an unshakable certainty in his own words.

Because in his mind, what he said was not arrogance.

It was simply the truth.

And that, perhaps, was the scariest part of all.

But just as the tension had begun to settle… another wave of silent astonishment rippled through the streets.

Aether, Paimon, and Thoma turned as they heard the murmurs grow louder.

Footsteps—calm, measured, deliberate—echoed through the open space.

The crowd instinctively parted, their eyes widening as they caught sight of the one approaching.

Raiden Ei.

The Raiden Shogun herself, in all her regal and imposing presence, walked through the streets of Inazuma City toward Momon.

Despite having fought a battle of catastrophic proportions not long ago, she carried herself with effortless grace, her violet gaze calm and unreadable. There was not a single trace of exhaustion or strain in her movements. Her violet and black robes fluttered gently with each step, and the faint scent of cherry blossoms seemed to linger in the air around her.

Her expression was composed, yet there was something different about her now.

Something… lighter.

Aether, who had been watching carefully, couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. It hadn't even been an hour since she left for Tenshukaku, and yet here she was, returning as if she had never been in a battle at all.

Momon, standing as still as a statue, turned his crimson gaze toward her.

"I'm back," said Ei, her voice smooth and even.

Momon stared at her for a moment before speaking. "…Didn't you want to relax for the moment?"

The last time he had seen her, she had left with the clear intent of meditating and spending some time in solitude. And yet, here she was, as if no such intention had ever existed.

"I'm relaxed and in good form," Ei replied simply.

Momon paused.

"...Okay," he said at last, though his tone made it clear that he was very confused.

Ei's idea of relaxation was certainly… unique.

But rather than press the issue further, he turned his attention back to his companions. He gestured toward them with a slight nod.

"Anyway, Miss Shogun, these are my companions," he said.

Aether took a step forward, placing a hand on his chest in a formal gesture. His golden eyes met Ei's calm violet ones as he spoke with polite respect.

"It's an honor to meet you, Shogun. My name is Aether."

Paimon, never one to be outdone, quickly floated up beside Aether, a bright and cheerful—but still respectfully measured—smile on her face.

"Greetings, Almighty Shogun! Paimon's name is Paimon, hehe! It's really, really nice to meet you!" she introduced herself, adding a little giggle at the end in her usual way.

Ei regarded them both with a quiet but noticeable curiosity.

She studied Aether first.

His posture was strong, his golden hair tousled from the earlier battle, yet his composure remained steady. His eyes carried a quiet determination—a quality she recognized in warriors who had walked long, arduous paths.

And then Paimon—small in size, but lively, radiating boundless energy. Ei could tell that, despite her cheerful and playful nature, there was sharpness in the little being's eyes.

After a moment, Ei gave a slight nod.

"It is an honor to meet you two," she said, her voice carrying the weight of both formality and sincerity.

Aether felt a subtle sense of relief. Despite all that had transpired, the Shogun did not seem to hold any hostility toward them.

Paimon, on the other hand, couldn't help but glance nervously between Ei and Momon. After everything that had happened—after the battle that had shaken the heavens—it was surreal to see them simply talking as if they weren't moments ago locked in an apocalyptic duel.

She wasn't sure whether this newfound understanding between Momon and Ei was a good thing or something to be very worried about.

Momon watched this exchange silently, his crimson gaze flickering between them.

For a brief moment, there was a sense of stillness.

Two of the most powerful beings in Teyvat stood before them—one a god who had ruled her nation for centuries, the other an enigma of immeasurable power.

Momon turned his head as Raiden Ei spoke, her voice steady yet carrying an undertone of contemplation.

"Momon," Ei said, her violet gaze meeting his masked visage. "I wanted to visit the Grand Narukami Shrine. I'd appreciate it if you would accompany me. There is also a friend of mine there."

Momon tilted his head slightly before giving a curt nod. "Sure."

He then turned toward Aether and Paimon. Though no words passed between them, a silent understanding was shared. Aether's nod conveyed acceptance—Momon had to go. There was no greater sign of trust than an Archon personally requesting one's company.

Raiden Ei turned her gaze over the shrine as she and Momon materialized at its entrance through [Greater Teleportation]. The familiar scent of sacred incense drifted around her, mingling with the distant crackle of burning candles. Yet, despite the nostalgic serenity of the shrine, an unfamiliar unease settled in her chest.

"It has been a long time since I visited this place," Ei murmured, her voice carrying a weight of memories.

Momon, standing beside her, glanced at the towering Sacred Sakura tree that loomed over the shrine like a guardian. "I bet Yae Miko would be happy when she sees you," he remarked, his crimson eyes flicking back to Ei.

Ei turned to him, intrigued. "You know Miko?"

"I recently met her here when I visited the shrine a day ago," he replied, his tone casual yet observant.

"I see." There was something almost imperceptible in Ei's voice—an emotion buried beneath centuries of discipline and control. Nostalgia, perhaps? Or was it regret?

As they stepped forward, ascending the stone pathway to the shrine's main courtyard, they were met with an unsettling sight.

A small gathering of shrine maidens stood in solemn formation, their heads bowed as they chanted an ancient hymn. In the center of the courtyard, upon a ceremonial altar draped in pristine white silk, lay the body of a young girl. Her delicate form was clad in traditional robes, her hands gently folded over her chest. Though her face remained serene, as if merely resting, the undeniable stillness of death clung to her like a ghostly shroud.

Ei's expression darkened. Something was wrong. The shrine was a sanctuary, a place of safety. Death had no business here.

"What has happened here?" Ei's voice, steady yet commanding, cut through the air like a blade.

The moment her words echoed across the courtyard, every shrine maiden turned toward her in unison. The weight of her presence seemed to pull them into a collective silence. Then, as if realizing who stood before them, they immediately dropped to their knees, pressing their foreheads to the ground in reverence.

"All… Almighty Shogun…" one of the older priestesses gasped, her voice laced with disbelief and relief.

The shrine maidens did not dare to raise their heads, their bodies trembling slightly as they remained prostrated. But before Ei could say anything further, another voice—gentle yet tinged with fatigue—cut through the quiet.

"Ei…"

Momon turned toward the sound, his sharp eyes immediately catching the familiar figure approaching them.

Yae Miko walked forward with her usual graceful stride, yet something about her seemed… off. The confident smirk that usually adorned her lips was absent. Her purple eyes, which often shimmered with mischief, were clouded with exhaustion. But what caught Momon's attention the most was the dark bruise marring the right side of her face.

His gaze sharpened. Someone had dared to strike her.

"Miko." Ei stepped forward, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. "I never thought I would have the chance to meet you again… but this." Her amethyst eyes flickered toward the lifeless girl on the altar.

Miko exhaled quietly, brushing aside a strand of her violet hair. "There was an incident that occurred while you and Momon were… preoccupied."

Momon immediately picked up on her choice of words. His battle with Ei had been a clash of titans—devastating enough to shake the land itself. But what did she mean by 'incident'?

"What incident?" Momon's voice was low, and controlled, but edged with something dangerous. His gaze flickered back to the bruise on Miko's face.

Miko's ears twitched slightly, but she met his gaze without flinching. "The Fatui," she said, her voice steady. "They invaded the shrine."

A heavy silence fell over them.

Ei's expression turned to steel. "The Fatui dared to set foot here?"

"They did more than set foot here," Miko continued, her tone laced with restrained fury. "They stormed the shrine. They rounded up every shrine maiden, held them at sword-point, and threatened to slaughter them all."

Momon clenched his fists at his sides, but he forced himself to remain still. "Why?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"The Harbingers wanted the Electro Gnosis," Miko said bitterly. "They demanded it, and when they saw hesitation… they made an example of her." She gestured toward the altar.

Ei's hands curled into fists. "They murdered her?"

Momon exhaled slowly. "And you?"

Miko gave a small, humorless chuckle and tilted her head slightly, exposing the bruise on her cheek. "Oh, they had their fun with me too," she said, voice laced with venom. "Nothing serious. Just a… persuasive warning."

Ei's eyes darkened with something dangerous. "Did they take it?"

Miko hesitated before nodding. "I had no choice. If I refused, more would have died." She lowered her gaze. "Forgive me, Ei."

Ei took a step closer, reaching out as if to touch Miko's face but stopping just short. "You have nothing to apologize for." Her voice was firm, but the weight of the situation was evident in her eyes.

Momon's silence spoke volumes. His crimson gaze burned with restrained fury.

"Who led them?" he finally asked.

Miko's eyes met his, and for the briefest moment, something flickered in them.

"Scaramouche."

Momon's masked gaze shifted to Miko as she mentioned the names of the Harbingers. His voice was steady, but there was a hint of curiosity behind it.

"Scaramouche? I've never heard of this Harbinger," Momon said, his deep, resonant voice breaking the silence. He tilted his head slightly, the hollow sockets of his mask fixed on Miko. "I only know of Signora and Childe. They've crossed my path before, but this Scaramouche… he's unfamiliar to me."

Ei's gaze sharpened at the mention of the name. Her lips parted as if to speak, but she hesitated, her mind racing. "Kunikuzushi…" she murmured, almost to herself. The name felt heavy on her tongue, laden with memories she had long buried. "He was my first creation… before the Shogun puppet. A prototype, if you will. A failure." Her voice was steady, but there was a flicker of something deeper—regret, perhaps, or even a sliver of pride. "To think he's become a Fatui Harbinger now… I never imagined he would rise to such a position."

"Oh, Momon, I should mention—Signora and Tartaglia were also present with Scaramouche," Miko added, her voice measured, though there was an unmistakable edge of bitterness beneath her usual playful cadence.

Momon's gaze flickered toward Miko as he took a step closer. Without hesitation, he lifted a gloved hand and gently touched the bruised side of her cheek. His skeletal fingers barely grazed her skin, yet she felt an odd warmth from the magic pulsing through them.

"Which of them harmed you?" he asked, his voice quieter than before, carrying a cold precision.

Miko allowed herself a small, weary smile. "It was Signora."

Momon remained silent, but the air around him thickened with an unseen weight. He cast a silent healing spell, and instantly, the bruise faded away, leaving her pale skin unblemished once more. A sense of relief spread through Miko as the burning pain that had lingered in her cheek disappeared completely.

Miko blinked in surprise, her hand instinctively touching her now-healed cheek. "Well, that's convenient," she said, her playful tone returning. "I didn't know you had such a gentle touch, Momon."

Ei, who had been watching the interaction closely, suddenly spoke up. "You were able to heal her with your magic," she said, her voice level, "but when I was injured, you gave me a healing potion instead."

Momon turned to her, his unreadable mask betraying nothing, yet his body language radiated mild confusion. "What does that have to do with the situation here?" he asked.

Ei's gaze remained steady, though there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something that might have been embarrassment or frustration. She turned her head slightly, looking off into the distance as if avoiding his gaze. "Nothing," she said simply, her voice quiet but firm.

Silence settled between them, but the tension was palpable. Miko, watching the exchange, couldn't suppress the smirk that tugged at the corner of her lips. Even now, with a lifeless body lying nearby, she couldn't ignore the underlying dynamic between the two. There was something amusing in the way Ei's tone had shifted ever so slightly—an almost imperceptible trace of jealousy. But, given the circumstances, she chose to keep her thoughts to herself, at least for now.

"Anyway, what are you going to do about that girl?" Momon gestured toward the lifeless body of the young shrine maiden, her still form lying on the ceremonial table, surrounded by the mournful whispers of the other shrine maidens.

"What am I supposed to do?" Ei asked, her voice steady but uncertain. Her violet gaze lingered on the deceased girl, but there was no solution forming in her mind.

"She died because we fought each other, Ei. The Fatui used that opportunity to act and steal your Gnosis from Miko," Momon said, his voice level but firm. "Don't you have any resurrection power to bring her back?"

A stunned silence followed.

Both Ei and Miko turned to him, their expressions a mixture of shock and disbelief.

"Momon… I do not have such power," Ei admitted, shaking her head slightly. "The only one that comes to mind is one of the Four Shades, the Ruler of Death, Ronova. But she is a higher authority than me."

"So, there's a ruler of death somewhere, huh?" Momon mused, but there was no awe in his voice. If anything, he seemed unimpressed, as if the idea of a being more powerful than an Archon was simply another fact of reality.

Without another word, Momon raised his hand, and from the swirling void of a portal, he pulled out a short, gleaming rod. Ei and Miko instinctively took a step closer, their eyes narrowing in curiosity as they studied the object.

It was a beautiful artifact, about thirty centimeters in length, radiating an aura that seemed both sacred and otherworldly. Its ivory-like structure shimmered with a golden sheen, intricate runes inscribed along the handle, while the front end glowed with a divine radiance.

"What is that?" Miko asked, her fox-like eyes flicking from the rod to Momon.

Momon didn't answer immediately. Instead, he walked toward the lifeless girl, standing at her side with the rod held aloft. Then, in a voice steady and unwavering, he spoke:

"[Resurrection]!"

A brilliant golden aura erupted from the artifact, engulfing the girl's body in waves of shimmering light. Gasps echoed throughout the shrine as the shrine maidens instinctively backed away, their wide eyes locked onto the miraculous spectacle before them. Ei and Miko stood their ground, but even they could not hide their astonishment as the golden radiance pulsed and flickered like sunlight breaking through the clouds.

For a few tense moments, nothing else happened.

Then, the girl's fingers twitched.

The light dissipated, fading into glimmers that vanished into the air like falling petals. Slowly, the girl's eyelids fluttered open, her vision blurry and unfocused. She inhaled sharply, the first breath of life returning to her lungs.

Momon leaned in slightly, his masked face unreadable. "Are you with us, child?" His voice was calm, but there was an underlying note of scrutiny, ensuring the spell had worked as intended.

Miko stepped forward, her concern evident, but Momon lifted a hand, stopping her.

The girl blinked, her breathing uneven, her lips moving but forming no words. Her expression shifted between confusion and exhaustion as she attempted to sit up, her body still weak from the ordeal.

"Wha… whath… happeneth?" she murmured, her voice unsteady, her words slurred with fatigue.

"Good. The spell worked perfectly," Momon stated, lowering his hand. He stepped aside, allowing Miko to finally rush forward and kneel beside the girl, gently taking her hand.

The shrine maiden looked around, still disoriented, her mind struggling to process the unfamiliar faces surrounding her. The other shrine maidens, who had moments ago been stricken with grief, now wore expressions of joy, their hushed prayers turning into grateful murmurs as they gathered around.

Miko's voice was gentle. "How are you feeling?"

The girl swallowed, trying to find her voice. "Ahth— I don'th kn-know," she stammered weakly.

"She needs rest," Momon said, his tone carrying finality. "Resurrection drains vitality. She'll recover, but it will take time."

Ei, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "Momon… how are you able to bring someone back to life?" Her voice was quiet, but laced with something unspoken—awe, confusion, and perhaps even something akin to envy. "This is the power of a god."

Momon turned to face her, his masked visage unreadable. "Then why didn't you resurrect her?" he asked, his tone cutting and direct. The question struck Ei like a physical blow, her eyes widening in shock. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. The weight of Momon's words hung in the air, a stark reminder of her limitations despite her divine status.

Miko glanced at Ei, her expression softening with understanding. She knew the burden Ei carried as the Electro Archon, the weight of her responsibilities and the sacrifices she had made. But in that moment, even Miko couldn't deny the power that Momon had just displayed—a power that seemed to defy the very laws of life and death.

The shrine maidens, now emboldened by the girl's miraculous return, began to murmur among themselves, their voices filled with a mixture of relief and wonder. The girl, still weak but alive, looked around, her eyes filled with confusion and gratitude.

Momon's voice cut through the tense air like a blade. "Shrine maidens!"

The women, still in awe and confusion over what had just transpired, turned their heads toward him. His imposing presence, enhanced by the dark armor and the mysterious power he had just demonstrated, made them tense up. They did not question his authority—how could they? A being who could command life and death stood before them.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Momon gestured for them to come closer. Hesitant at first, the shrine maidens exchanged nervous glances before stepping forward in unison, forming a semi-circle before him. Though they were used to reverence, their bows were lower this time, as if they were addressing a divine entity beyond even the Electro Archon.

His masked visage offered no warmth, no reassurance—only a cold, unwavering command.

"Now, I want all of you to repeat this—'Nothing happened here.'"

Silence. The shrine maidens hesitated, uncertain of his intent.

Momon's gaze swept over them, his stance unreadable yet firm.

"Repeat it."

Their voices wavered at first, but they obeyed. "Nothing happened here."

He nodded. "Good. Because if I find out that any of you has spread the word that I resurrected someone… we are going to have problems. Are we clear?"

The chill in his tone sent shivers down their spines. There was no need for further explanation; they understood that this was not a simple warning—it was a promise.

One by one, they nodded vigorously, their fear evident in their eyes.

"Umu. You may leave."

Like birds freed from a snare, the shrine maidens turned and hurried away, their whispers suppressed beneath their disciplined silence. The weight of what had just occurred—both the miracle and the unspoken threat—settled deep in their minds.

Momon remained still for a moment, watching them disappear beyond the shrine's sacred halls before turning toward the entrance. He began walking away, his steps measured, his mind already pushing aside the event.

Ei and Miko followed closely behind.

The pink-haired kitsune reached out, her fingers delicately wrapping around the gloved hand of the mysterious warrior.

"Momon." Miko's voice was softer now, laced with genuine warmth. "Thank you… for this miracle. You are an amazing person."

Momon halted, his head shifting slightly as if considering her words.

"It's nothing," he replied after a beat. His voice lacked arrogance, but neither did it carry any humility—it was simply a statement of fact. "Sorry for putting fear into your shrine maidens. It's just that I don't want word spreading that some adventurer can bring the dead back to life. That would be… annoying."

He exhaled, shaking his head. "People might start hunting me down, offering mountains of Mora just to resurrect their loved ones. The dead should stay dead."

Miko studied him closely. There was something beneath those words—something deeper. The weight of experience, perhaps. The burden of knowledge.

She smiled knowingly. "You say that, and yet you still brought that girl back. It seems that, despite what you claim, your heart is not as indifferent as you'd like others to believe."

Momon didn't respond, merely turning his masked face forward once more.

Ei, who had been silent for a while, finally spoke. "Momon."

He glanced her way, waiting.

The Electro Archon hesitated, as if debating whether to say what was on her mind. Finally, she met his gaze, her amethyst eyes unreadable yet sincere.

"I apologize."

Momon blinked. "For what?"

Ei exhaled slowly. "For being unable to do what you did. For failing to protect my people when they needed me most." She clenched her fists, her voice lowering. "I am a god, yet I could not bring her back… And I had to rely on you."

Momon tilted his head, studying her reaction.

Then, he let out a small chuckle. "Ei, don't be ridiculous."

She looked up, surprised.

Momon continued, "Your power is simply different than mine. That's all there is to it. There's no need to be mad about it, nor to feel ashamed." He paused before adding, "It is what it is."

Ei stared at him, caught off guard by the casual way he dismissed something she had struggled with for centuries.

A small smile formed on her lips. "After centuries of being absent, I suppose I needed someone to push me into the reality of the world again."

Momon scoffed lightly, resuming his walk toward the shrine's entrance. "I'm glad you're catching up, then."

Miko watched them both, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. She said nothing, but in her eyes, there was amusement. She had caught something—an undercurrent between them that neither had acknowledged yet.

For now, though, she chose to keep it to herself.

Chapter Text

Tenshukaku, The Next Day

The solemn air of Tenshukaku was thick with an unspoken tension. The grand halls of the Raiden Shogun's palace, normally silent save for the occasional whisper of an attendant or the measured footsteps of guards, were now filled with the presence of Inazuma's most powerful governing bodies.

By the decree of the Raiden Shogun herself, the Tri-Commission leaders had been summoned. None of them dared to question the call. The day prior, the skies above Inazuma had trembled, as if the gods themselves had clashed. The entire nation bore witness to the storm that split the heavens—a battle so fierce that even the most hardened warriors had fallen to their knees in awe.

And at the center of it all had been their Shogun… and the mysterious man who now stood beside her.

Kujou Sara, General of the Tenryou Commission, stood at the front of the chamber, her gaze sharp as ever. Her armor gleamed under the dim light of the hall, her disciplined stance unwavering as she addressed the gathered leaders.

"The Almighty Shogun has summoned you."

A command, not a request.

The leaders of the Tri-Commission stood before the throne, their heads bowed in reverence.

At the forefront was Kujou Takayuki, the head of the Tenryou Commission. His stern expression was one of unwavering loyalty, his posture rigid as he awaited the Shogun's command. The Tenryou Commission, responsible for the military and police affairs of Inazuma, was the most powerful of the three commissions, its authority second only to the Shogun herself. It was the Tenryou Commission that enforced the Vision Hunt Decree and the Sakoku Decree, its soldiers, and samurai serving as the iron fist of the Shogun's will.

Beside him stood Hiiragi Shinsuke, the head of the Kanjou Commission. His expression was one of cautious neutrality, his sharp eyes flicking between the Shogun and Momon. The Kanjou Commission managed the finances of the nation, supervised the borders of Inazuma, and handled mercantile and bureaucratic affairs. It was the Kanjou Commission that enforced the Sakoku Decree, its agents ensuring that no one entered or left the nation without the Shogun's permission.

Finally, there was Kamisato Ayato, the head of the Yashiro Commission. His calm demeanor and sharp intellect made him a formidable leader, his presence commanding respect even in the shadow of the Shogun. The Yashiro Commission was responsible for ceremonial affairs, celebratory events, and public festivals. It managed the shrines and temples of Inazuma and was considered the commission closest to the Raiden Shogun, its leaders often serving as her advisors and confidants.

All three leaders remained motionless, heads bowed low.

The Raiden Shogun sat upon her grand throne, her expression unreadable, her posture regal. She was dressed in flowing violet robes of silk, lined with gold patterns resembling crackling lightning. The katana that had cleaved gods and armies alike rested at her side, its presence alone commanding respect and fear.

As the leaders finally raised their heads, their eyes caught sight of the two figures standing beside their Archon.

To her left stood Yae Miko, her closest confidant and the head shrine maiden of the Grand Narukami Shrine. Her nine-tailed fox nature was well-hidden beneath her human guise, but the playful glint in her eyes hinted at the centuries of wisdom and mischief she possessed. Draped in elegant robes, her arms crossed over her chest, Miko bore a slight smirk, as if already amused by what was about to transpire.

But it was the figure on the Shogun's right that made the air in the chamber thicker—the very reason they had all been summoned.

A man clad in black armor, intricate and imposing. His masked face betrayed no emotion, yet the sheer presence he exuded was unlike anything the Tri-Commission had ever encountered. Momon.

Though none of them dared to speak it aloud, they all knew who he was.

He was the man who had fought the Raiden Shogun.

The man who had not only survived her divine wrath but had stood as her equal.

A mortal who wielded power that rivaled that of gods.

Silence gripped the chamber. No one spoke until the Raiden Shogun herself finally did.

Her voice was calm, yet it carried a weight that pressed upon their very souls.

"Raise your heads."

Kujou Takayuki was the first to speak, his voice steady but tinged with disbelief. "Shogun… what is the meaning of this?" he asked, his sharp eyes flicking between Ei and Momon.

Ei's response was calm, her violet eyes burning with an intensity that matched the storm. "This is Momon," she said, her tone firm. "He is… an ally."

The word hung in the air, its weight pressing down on the assembled leaders. Hiiragi Shinsuke's eyes widened in shock, his sharp mind racing as he tried to process the implications of the Shogun's words. Kamisato Ayato, ever the diplomat, remained calm, his expression unreadable as he observed the scene with sharp, calculating eyes.

"An… ally?" Hiiragi Shinsuke repeated, his voice trembling with disbelief. "But… he fought you. He destroyed Seirai Island. He—"

"Enough," Ei interrupted, her voice sharp and commanding. "The past is behind us."

Kujou Takayuki's jaw tightened his expression one of frustration and confusion. "But Shogun, the people… they are afraid. They do not understand—"

"They will," Ei said, her tone firm but carrying an edge of finality.

"But I do not concern myself with what the people do not understand." Her voice carried effortlessly through the chamber, cold and unyielding. "I am the shepherd, and they are the sheep. I am the law."

The words rang like a thunderclap, sending an involuntary shudder through Kujou Takayuki and Hiiragi Shinsuke. Kamisato Ayato, ever composed, remained still, but even he kept his head slightly lowered in deference.

Then, the Shogun stood.

The weight of her presence bore down upon the room like a celestial decree. The Tri-Commission leaders, despite years of serving under her rule, felt something was different this time.

"I, the Shogun—" Ei's eyes swept across them, her voice carrying an unmistakable finality. "Today, I declare the abolishment of the Sakoku Decree and the Vision Hunt Decree."

Silence.

Absolute silence.

The air grew so still that the flickering torches along the walls seemed to dim. The very foundation of Inazuma's rule had just been shattered in a single breath.

"The Visions that have been confiscated shall be returned to their rightful owners," Ei continued, her tone unwavering, as if daring anyone to challenge her.

The Tri-Commission heads went rigid.

Kujou Takayuki and Hiiragi Shinsuke exchanged a glance—an unspoken understanding flashing between them. This was a disaster.

For years, their factions had upheld these decrees, ensuring Inazuma remained in isolation, aligning themselves with the Fatui in secret deals that bolstered their own power. The Vision Hunt Decree, in particular, had granted the Tenryou Commission unparalleled authority, and the Kanjou Commission had profited immensely from the control of imports and trade restrictions.

And now… all of it was collapsing.

Kujou Takayuki's jaw tightened before he finally dared to speak.

"Almighty Shogun…" His voice was careful, respectful—but beneath it lurked the desperation of a man seeing his empire unraveling. "Isn't this decision… a bit hasty? The war with Watatsumi Island is still ongoing as we speak."

Ei's expression did not change.

"I have already sent a messenger to the leader of the Watatsumi Army." Her words were direct, sharp as the edge of a blade. "Their leader will soon arrive on Narukami Island to discuss peace terms."

Hiiragi Shinsuke's hands curled into fists.

"But why this sudden change, Shogun?" His voice carried an edge, the tension causing his carefully maintained composure to crack. "Is it because of him?"

And then, he pointed.

At *Momon.

At the being standing beside the Raiden Shogun, clad in dark armor that seemed to absorb the very light around him.

The moment Hiiragi Shinsuke raised his hand, he felt it.

An invisible pressure filled the air.

"You better put that finger down, old man."

Momon's voice was like a distant growl of thunder, deep and commanding.

The very tone of it sent a chill racing down Hiiragi Shinsuke's spine.

The Kanjou Commission leader quickly withdrew his hand, realizing only too late that it had been a grave mistake to provoke this man or monster.

Momon's very presence in this room unnerved him.

The day before, this man had fought the Raiden Shogun herself. He had faced the God of Eternity in battle—and defeated her.

And now, here he stood, standing at her right hand.

A position of power that no mortal had ever held before.

The realization sank in like a stone dropping into the depths of the ocean.

The rules of Inazuma were changing.

Then, Raiden Ei's voice cut through the silence once more.

"Kujou Takayuki."

The Tenryou Commission leader stiffened.

"Yes, Almighty Shogun!" he answered immediately, his forehead damp with sweat.

She turned.

"Hiiragi Shinsuke."

The Kanjou Commission leader swallowed.

"Yes, Almighty Shogun!" he echoed, trying to keep his voice steady.

Then, her next words struck like a lightning bolt.

"You two have committed treason."

Silence.

This time, it was heavier. More suffocating.

For a moment, neither man moved. Neither man breathed.

Then—

Kujou Takayuki's face paled. Hiiragi Shinsuke's eyes widened in horror.

Their hearts pounded against their chests as they realized what was happening.

The Raiden Shogun had just pronounced judgment upon them.

Their hands trembled. Their years of power, their careful alliances, their deals with the Fatui—everything they had built—were now crumbling to dust.

For the first time in their lives, they felt what it truly meant to stand before a god.

And Momon—the man beside her—watched them in complete silence.

There was no mercy in his gaze.

Only judgment.

Kujou Takayuki's jaw tightened his expression one of disbelief and desperation. "Almighty Shogun, we have always served you faithfully," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "We would never—"

"Silence!" Ei's voice cut through the air like a whip, her tone sharp and commanding. "Your collaboration with the Fatui is well known. You have betrayed Inazuma, and you will face the consequences."

Hiiragi Shinsuke's sharp eyes flicked nervously between the Shogun and Momon, his mind racing to find a way out. But there was no escape. The Shogun's authority was absolute, and her judgment was final.

Kujou Takayuki took a deep breath, steeling himself as he stepped forward, his posture rigid. Beads of sweat gathered at his temples, but he maintained a facade of composure.

"Almighty Shogun, I do not deny that we collaborated with the Fatui," he admitted, his voice measured yet strained. "But let me assure you, this partnership was never to the detriment of the citizens. Everything we did was within reason. In fact, we discussed these matters with you a year ago."

Raiden Ei remained impassive, her expression unreadable as she listened. However, it was another voice that cut through the silence.

"And what, exactly, did you work on with the Fatui?" Yae Miko's tone was deceptively light, but her sharp gaze pierced through Kujou Takayuki like a blade. She stood to the side, her arms crossed, amusement flickering in her violet eyes, though beneath it lay something more dangerous—an unspoken warning.

Kujou Takayuki faltered for a brief moment. "We… we…" His words failed him as he struggled to find a proper response. His throat tightened as if he were suffocating under unseen pressure.

"Allow me to answer," came a calm, composed voice from the side. Kamisato Ayato, leader of the Yashiro Commission, finally spoke, stepping forward with the grace of a noble. His piercing gaze swept over the accused men before he addressed the Shogun.

"The Kanjou Commission and Tenryou Commission conspired with the Fatui for personal gains," he stated with unwavering confidence, his tone unwavering and deliberate.

"Blasphemy!" Kujou Takayuki snapped, his hands balling into fists. "The Kujou Clan has served the Shogun faithfully for generations! We have always been loyal to the Shogunate, never straying from our sworn duty!"

"Shame on you, Kamisato-dono," Hiiragi Shinsuke barked, his face twisting in anger. "How dare you cast such baseless accusations upon our clans?"

Ayato's expression remained unchanged, unfazed by their outrage. "I am not done yet," he said coolly, his voice slicing through their protests like a well-honed blade.

He turned his sharp gaze to Kujou Takayuki. "You, Kujou Takayuki, were the one who proposed the Vision Hunt Decree to the Shogun, knowing full well the chaos it would bring. Under the guise of preserving eternity, you sought to push Inazuma into the throes of civil war, creating unrest so that the Fatui could mass-produce Delusions and establish a lucrative market."

Ayato then shifted his focus to Hiiragi Shinsuke. "And you, Hiiragi Shinsuke, were promised wealth and power in return. You allowed yourself to be roped into this conspiracy, stockpiling Crystal Marrow for the Fatui's use, turning a blind eye to their manipulations in exchange for their favor."

The two clan leaders stood frozen, their expressions betraying their shock. They had underestimated Kamisato Ayato, their young rival who had remained in the shadows—watching, waiting, gathering evidence. Now, he had laid their schemes bare before the Shogun herself.

A murmur rippled through the assembled officials, the weight of Ayato's words sinking in. Suspicion and condemnation painted the faces of those present.

Kujou Takayuki swallowed hard before speaking, his voice laced with desperation. "Almighty Shogun, these accusations are false! I swear upon my honor, I would never betray Inazuma!"

Raiden Ei's gaze, cold and unwavering, rested upon him. Then, in a voice as final as a judge's sentence, she uttered a single word.

"Guards."

The heavy sound of armored footsteps filled the chamber as ten guards stormed in, their disciplined movements precise and unwavering. Spears glinted under the dim lantern light as they surrounded the two men, their expressions unreadable beneath their helmets.

"Wait—this is a misunderstanding!" Hiiragi Shinsuke tried to step back, only to feel the sharp tip of a spear press against his chest.

"You cannot do this, Almighty Shogun!" Kujou Takayuki pleaded, his voice cracking. "We have served you faithfully! This is a mistake!"

Raiden Ei did not respond. Her silence was more damning than any words she could have spoken.

The guards seized the two clan leaders, their protests falling on deaf ears. Bound and disgraced, they were led from the chamber, their fates now sealed.

As the heavy doors shut behind them, silence reigned once more in Tenshukaku.

"Miko… what punishment should they receive?" Ei's voice was calm, yet there was an underlying weight to her words. The question hung in the air like an unsheathed blade.

Miko's fox-like eyes flickered as she tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into an enigmatic smile. "I would prefer not to answer that question," she said lightly. Though she had suffered greatly during the Fatui's desecration of the Grand Narukami Shrine, she had no desire to play the role of judge. "After all, I am but a humble shrine maiden, not an executioner."

Ei's eyes narrowed slightly, but she did not press further. She understood Miko's reluctance. The Guuji was not one to involve herself directly in matters of politics or punishment, preferring to observe and guide from the shadows. Instead, Ei turned her gaze to the figure standing silently at the edge of the room—Momon, the enigmatic Honorary Knight.

"Momon?" Ei asked, her voice carrying across the room. "What is your opinion?"

Murmurs rippled through the chamber. The gathered soldiers, officials, and members of the Tri-Commission exchanged puzzled glances. Why would the Almighty Shogun ask an outlander such a thing?

Speculation swirled like an autumn storm. Some believed the reason lay in the battle where Ei had been defeated—a battle that had seemingly changed her perspective. Her respect for Momon was undeniable, perhaps even bordering on something more. But should that afford him a say in the governance of Inazuma? He was still an outsider, an enigma wrapped in an imposing shell of armor, his very presence exuding an eerie authority.

The Honorary Knight, Momon, stood tall, his imposing figure draped in a gothic hooded cape. His mask, an impenetrable veil over his true identity, seemed to harbor something otherworldly beneath. The aura surrounding him was suffocating, as if a deathly presence clung to him, unseen but felt by all.

His answer came without hesitation, his deep voice echoing through the chamber.

"Death, of course."

A wave of shock rippled through the room. The severity of his words sent chills down spines. Gasps whispered through the assembly as they processed his judgment.

"Their crime was on a national level," Momon continued, his voice steady, absolute. "They allowed an ominous foreign organization to entrench itself in Inazuma, to weave chaos into its foundations like a puppet master. And for what? Greed? Power? Self-preservation? No matter the excuse, they willingly invited a wolf into the den, endangering the people they were sworn to protect. If treason of this magnitude does not warrant execution, then what does?"

He turned his masked gaze toward Ei, his next words striking deep. "They should be executed by you personally."

Raiden Ei's fingers flexed slightly around the hilt of her sword, her expression unchanging, but something flickered in her eyes—a quiet understanding.

"You think that's the right choice?" Kujou Sara spoke at last. She had stood silently through the proceedings, her mind a storm of emotions. Though she had remained composed when her adoptive father was taken away, her heart had been in turmoil. Now, she needed to understand—was this truly the only path?

Momon turned his gaze toward her, his voice carrying the weight of absolute certainty. "Executing two powerful clan leaders will send an important message. A message to every lesser clan leader who might dare to fall into corruption, who might dare to endanger the nation for their own selfish desires." His words were harsh, but undeniably logical.

Kujou Sara clenched her fists at her sides. She wanted to argue, to defend her father. But the truth was undeniable. The extent of his corruption was laid bare before her, and no amount of loyalty could justify what he had done. Her heart ached with conflict, but she could not refute Momon's words.

The chamber was silent once more, all eyes on the Shogun.

Raiden Ei closed her eyes for a brief moment before speaking, her tone resolute.

"I am in favor of execution." Her voice, devoid of hesitation, carried the weight of absolute judgment. "Tomorrow morning, Kujou Takayuki and Hiiragi Shinsuke shall be executed."

With fluid grace, she unsheathed her legendary blade, Musou Isshin, the radiant violet glow illuminating her solemn expression. "They will have the honor of being beheaded by my own hand."

The gathered officials bowed their heads in acknowledgment, the fate of the traitors sealed.

As the tension in the room settled into grim finality, the storm of Inazuma's past sins prepared to meet the edge of the Shogun's blade.

As the heavy doors of the Tenshukaku creaked shut behind the departing members of the Tri-Commission, the atmosphere within the grand hall began to lighten, though the weight of the day's events still lingered in the air. The accused had been led away, their fates sealed, and the Shogun had retired to her private chambers, leaving the remaining attendees to disperse. Among them, Yae Miko and Momon made their way toward the exit, their presence drawing curious glances from the few officials and soldiers who remained.

Momon's imposing figure moved with a deliberate grace, his dark armor and hooded cape casting an almost spectral silhouette against the dimly lit corridors. Yae Miko walked beside him, her usual air of playful confidence tempered by the gravity of the situation. The two exchanged few words, the silence between them comfortable yet charged with unspoken thoughts.

As they neared the grand entrance of the Tenshukaku, a voice called out, smooth and composed, yet carrying an undercurrent of curiosity. "Honorary Knight Momon."

Momon halted his steps, turning slightly before fully facing the speaker. His deep, unreadable eyes hidden behind his mask locked onto the approaching figure.

"Yes?" he responded, his tone neutral yet acknowledging.

A tall and refined man, dressed in elegant yet pragmatic garments that denoted his status, stepped forward. His demeanor exuded confidence, but there was an undeniable air of calculated tact behind his every movement.

"I am Kamisato Ayato, head of the Kamisato Clan and Commissioner of the Yashiro Commission. It is an honor to finally meet one of the heroes of Mondstadt and Liyue," Ayato said, his voice smooth as silk yet carrying undeniable authority. "I have heard much about your deeds, as well as those of Mister Aether. Your reputation precedes you, even here in Inazuma."

Momon tilted his head slightly. "Thanks, uhh… Kamisato, huh? Are you, by any chance, related to Miss Ayaka?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Before Ayato could respond, Yae Miko interjected with her characteristic slyness, her lips curling into a knowing smile. "He is her elder brother, though I suppose the family resemblance isn't immediately obvious to someone who hasn't spent much time around them."

"Oh, great," Momon said with a nod. "Miss Ayaka was incredibly hospitable when Thoma brought us to the Kamisato Estate a few days ago. She was generous and treated us with great kindness."

A faint smile graced Ayato's lips at the mention of his sister. "I am greatly honored by such words from you, Mister Momon. My little sister is a compassionate soul who holds the well-being of Inazuma and its people close to her heart. She speaks highly of you and your companions."

The two regarded each other for a moment, the mutual respect between them palpable. Ayato extended his hand, his movements deliberate and graceful. "It is not often that Inazuma has the privilege of hosting individuals like yourself, Mister Momon. I hope that, despite the recent turmoil, you have found some measure of peace during your stay here."

Momon clasped Ayato's hand firmly, the gesture conveying both strength and sincerity. "Inazuma is a land of contrasts—beauty and strife, tradition and change. But it is precisely that complexity that makes it worth fighting for. I am grateful for the kindness shown to me by your family and others."

Ayato's lips curved into a faint smile, though his eyes remained thoughtful. "Your presence here has been... enlightening, to say the least. The Shogun's decision to seek your counsel speaks volumes about the regard she holds for you. I must admit, I am curious to learn more about the man behind the mask."

Momon's response was measured, his tone carrying a hint of amusement. "Curiosity is a natural thing, but I fear the mask is as much a part of me as the armor I wear. Perhaps one day, the time will come for it to be removed. Until then, I hope my actions will speak louder than my appearance."

Yae Miko, who had been observing the exchange with a faint smirk, finally spoke up. "Careful, Ayato. Momon has a way of deflecting questions with more questions. If you're not careful, you might find yourself revealing more about yourself than you intended."

Ayato chuckled softly, his demeanor relaxed yet still composed. "A fair warning, Lady Guuji. I shall tread carefully."

The three stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the tension of the earlier proceedings giving way to a more amicable atmosphere. Finally, Ayato stepped back, offering another polite bow. "I won't keep you any longer. Should you find yourself in need of anything during your stay in Inazuma, please do not hesitate to reach out to the Kamisato Clan. It would be our pleasure to assist you."

Momon inclined his head in acknowledgment. "Thank you, Kamisato Ayato. I will keep that in mind."

As Ayato turned to leave, Yae Miko glanced at Momon, her expression unreadable but her eyes glinting with amusement. "Well, that was... interesting. It seems you've made quite the impression on the young lord."

Momon shrugged, his tone light but tinged with weariness. "He seems like a good man. Inazuma could use more leaders like him."

Miko hummed in agreement, her gaze drifting toward the distant horizon visible through the open doors of the Tenshukaku. "Indeed. But come, let us not linger here. There is much to discuss, and I suspect you have more questions than answers after today's events."

Momon nodded, falling into step beside her as they exited the Tenshukaku.

Chapter Text

The days that followed the cataclysmic battle between the Raiden Shogun and the enigmatic Honorary Knight, Momon, were marked by a profound shift in the fabric of Inazuma. The clash of their powers had reverberated across the islands, sending shockwaves that reached the farthest corners of Teyvat. It was a battle that defied comprehension, a duel between a god and a being whose origins remained shrouded in mystery. And yet, against all odds, Momon had emerged victorious. The people of Inazuma—indeed, the people of Teyvat—were left in awe, their minds racing with questions about the masked warrior who had stood toe-to-toe with an Archon and prevailed.

Rumors spread like wildfire. Some whispered that Momon was a god in disguise, a divine being who had descended to test the resolve of mortals. Others speculated that he was a fallen deity, cast out from the heavens and forced to walk among men. There were even those who feared he was a creature of the Abyss, a harbinger of destruction cloaked in human form. And then there were the wildest theories—that he was not of this world at all, a god from a realm beyond Teyvat, his presence a portent of things to come. Yet, despite the countless stories that swirled around him, Momon remained an enigma, his true nature hidden behind the impenetrable mask he wore.

In the wake of the battle, Inazuma began to change. The Vision Hunt Decree was abolished, and the oppressive grip of the Shogunate's army began to loosen. The people, once cowed by fear, now dared to hope. The execution of Kujou Takayuki and Hiiragi Shinsuke had sent a clear message: betrayal would not be tolerated, and the Shogun's justice was absolute. The sight of the Raiden Shogun herself wielding her blade, Musou Isshin, to deliver the final blow had been both terrifying and awe-inspiring. The two clan leaders had begged for mercy, their cries echoing in the stillness of the morning, but Ei had shown none. Her resolve was unshakable, her commitment to eternity unwavering.

Now, Inazuma stood at a crossroads. The civil war that had torn the nation apart was officially over, but the wounds it had left behind were far from healed. The Shogunate's forces and the Watatsumi army faced each other across Nazuchi Beach, the tension between them palpable. A single misstep, a single arrow loosed in anger, could reignite the conflict. Raiden Ei knew that true peace would require more than just the end of hostilities. It would require unity—a unity that had eluded Inazuma for far too long.

It was with this goal in mind that Sangonomiya Kokomi, the Divine Priestess of Watatsumi Island, had sailed to Narukami Island. Accompanied by General Gorou and a small contingent of soldiers, she had come to negotiate terms of peace with the Raiden Shogun. The journey was fraught with uncertainty, but Kokomi was determined to secure a future for her people—a future free from the shadow of war.

As Kokomi entered the grand throne room of Tenshukaku, she was struck by the solemnity of the moment. The Raiden Shogun stood at the center of the room, her presence as commanding as ever. Beside her stood two figures: General Kujou Sara, her expression stern and unyielding, and the mysterious Honorary Knight, Momon. His dark, gothic armor was partially concealed beneath a flowing hooded cape, the mask he wore obscuring his face entirely. Kokomi's eyes lingered on him for a moment, her curiosity piqued. She had heard the tales of his battle with the Shogun, of his inexplicable power and the aura of dread that seemed to follow him wherever he went. Yet, seeing him in person was another matter entirely. He was unlike anyone she had ever encountered, his very presence unsettling yet strangely compelling.

Kokomi stepped forward, her movements graceful and deliberate. She bowed her head respectfully, her voice calm and measured as she addressed the Shogun. "Almighty Shogun, I come on behalf of Watatsumi Island to discuss terms of peace. It is my hope that we can find a path forward—one that benefits both our peoples and brings an end to the strife that has divided us."

Ei's voice broke the silence, her tone steady and authoritative, yet carrying an undercurrent of something deeper—perhaps respect, perhaps caution. "Sangonomiya Kokomi," she began, her words measured and deliberate. "I've heard of your prowess as a strategist, your mastery of the art of war. Someone of your talent would be a great asset to the Shogunate."

Kokomi met Ei's gaze, her own eyes calm but unwavering. She offered a small, polite smile, though it did not reach her eyes. "That is high praise coming from you, Almighty Shogun. However, I believe our focus should be on ensuring that the peace terms we agree upon are beneficial for both Watatsumi Island and the Shogunate. Only then can we truly move forward."

Ei's expression remained impassive, though a flicker of something—perhaps approval—passed through her eyes. "The war is over," she stated firmly. "I have executed those responsible for the conflict and ordered my army to halt all offensives. But I will not allow Inazuma to remain divided. Watatsumi Island must once again fly under the banner of the Shogunate."

Kokomi's smile faded, replaced by a look of quiet determination. "With all due respect, Almighty Shogun, the war lasted for a year. Countless lives were lost, and the scars of that conflict run deep. Are you suggesting that all that bloodshed, all that suffering, should simply be forgotten? That it should mean nothing in the end?"

Ei's gaze hardened, her voice taking on a sharper edge. "Do not mistake my desire for unity as a dismissal of the past. The war was a tragedy, one born of corruption and betrayal. But I will not allow it to define our future. If you refuse to accept peace, then you leave me no choice but to consider other means of reuniting Inazuma. Do you truly wish to see history repeat itself? You know well what happened to your god, Orobashi, when he chose to defy me centuries ago."

The mention of Orobashi sent a ripple of unease through Kokomi's entourage. Gorou's ears twitched, his tail stiffening, while the soldiers exchanged uneasy glances. Kokomi herself felt a chill run down her spine, though she refused to let it show. She swallowed hard, her voice steady but softer now. "Yes, I know. The tale of Orobashi's fall is one that every child on Watatsumi Island learns from birth. It is a reminder of the consequences of defiance—and of the power of the Raiden Shogun."

Ei's expression softened ever so slightly, though her tone remained firm. "Then you understand the gravity of this moment. I do not wish to resort to force, but I will not allow Inazuma to remain fractured. Speak your terms, Sangonomiya Kokomi. Let us find a path forward together."

Kokomi took a deep breath, her mind racing as she weighed her words carefully. This was not just a negotiation; it was a pivotal moment in Inazuma's history, one that would shape the future of her people. She straightened her posture, her voice clear and resolute as she began. "Watatsumi Island is willing to rejoin the Shogunate, but under specific conditions. We request to be recognized as an autonomous province, with the right to govern ourselves and maintain our own army. The wounds of this war are still fresh, and the distrust between our people and yours runs deep. It will take time to heal, and until then, we cannot fully integrate into the Shogunate's military structure."

Ei listened intently, her expression unreadable. When Kokomi finished, there was a moment of silence before Ei responded. "An autonomous province with its own army... That is a significant request. But if it is the price of unity, then I am willing to consider it. However, know this: Watatsumi Island will be expected to come to the aid of the Shogunate when called upon. Inazuma must stand as one, especially in times of crisis."

Kokomi nodded, her expression one of solemn agreement. "And in turn, the Shogunate will come to the aid of Watatsumi Island when we are in need. This must be a partnership, not a subjugation. Only then can we begin to rebuild the trust that has been broken."

Ei's lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, though it was gone as quickly as it appeared. "Very well. Your terms are reasonable, and I accept them. Watatsumi Island shall be recognized as an autonomous province under the Shogunate, with the right to maintain its own army."

Kokomi bowed her head slightly, her voice steady but laced with curiosity and a hint of trepidation. "I have a question, Almighty Shogun."

Ei's violet eyes narrowed ever so slightly, her expression unreadable. "Ask," she replied, her tone firm but not unkind.

Kokomi hesitated for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "What is to become of Enkanomiya? Its sudden emergence from the depths has left my people in awe—and in fear. It is a place of great significance to Watatsumi Island, and its current state raises many questions."

Ei's gaze shifted momentarily to Momon before returning to Kokomi. Her voice was calm but carried an undercurrent of finality. "Enkanomiya no longer belongs to either of us. He is the new owner of that territory."

Kokomi's eyes widened in surprise, her gaze flickering to Momon. She had heard whispers of his power, of his role in the battle that had shaken Inazuma to its core, but this was something else entirely. The idea that a single individual could claim dominion over a place as ancient and powerful as Enkanomiya was almost incomprehensible. She studied him for a moment, her mind racing. His dark, gothic armor, the hooded cape that seemed to blend into the shadows, and the featureless mask that hid his face all contributed to an aura of otherworldly menace. Yet, there was something else—a quiet intensity, a sense of purpose that made it clear he was no mere mortal.

"You might have seen us fighting, I assume?" Ei asked, her tone almost casual, as if discussing a minor skirmish rather than a battle that had reshaped the heavens and the earth.

Kokomi blinked, her composure faltering for the briefest of moments. "Oh… So-So you were fighting him?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. The realization was staggering. The clash that had sent shockwaves across Inazuma, the battle that had been felt even on the distant shores of Watatsumi Island—it had been between the Raiden Shogun and this mysterious figure. And yet, here he stood, alive and seemingly unharmed, a testament to his unimaginable power.

Momon stepped forward slightly, his deep, resonant voice breaking the silence. "My name's Momon, Honorary Knight from Mondstadt." The introduction was simple, almost understated, but it did little to dispel the aura of mystery that surrounded him.

Kokomi's mind raced as she tried to process the information. "So you are the Honorary Knight… but what makes you the new owner of Enkanomiya?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly despite her best efforts to remain composed. She turned to Ei, seeking clarification.

Ei's expression was impassive, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—respect, perhaps, or even a hint of caution. "Because it was his power that brought Enkanomiya back to the surface," she explained, her tone matter-of-fact. "The energy required to lift an entire civilization from the depths of the ocean and into the sky is beyond the reach of mortals—and even most gods. It is because of him that we are making changes in Inazuma. His actions have forced us to reconsider our path."

Kokomi's breath caught in her throat. The implications of Ei's words were staggering. This man—this being—had wielded power on a scale that defied comprehension. And now, Enkanomiya, a place of immense cultural and historical significance to her people, was under his control. She turned back to Momon, her heart pounding in her chest. "Now, if you have any objection to the matter of Enkanomiya," Ei continued, her voice firm, "you had better speak to Momon. Those islands never belonged to the territory of Inazuma, and their current state is a result of his actions."

Kokomi opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. She looked at Momon, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe. His masked face gave nothing away, but the aura he exuded was overwhelming. It was as if the very air around him was charged with power, a constant reminder of the forces he commanded. For a moment, she felt like a small, fragile creature standing before a predator—a sheep before a wolf. Her usual composure, her strategic mind, all seemed to falter in the face of his presence.

"I…" she began, her voice barely audible. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze—or at least, the blank void where his eyes should have been. "I have no objection."

The words felt heavy, almost like a surrender, but Kokomi knew there was no other choice. To challenge Momon, to question his claim over Enkanomiya, would be to invite disaster. And yet, as she stood there, she couldn't help but wonder what his intentions were. What did he plan to do with Enkanomiya? What role would he play in the future of Inazuma? And perhaps most importantly, who—or what—was he truly?

Ei nodded, seemingly satisfied with Kokomi's response. "Then it is settled. Enkanomiya will remain under Momon's control, and we will focus on rebuilding the trust between our people. This is a new era for Inazuma, and we must all play our part in shaping its future."

As the meeting drew to a close, Kokomi couldn't shake the feeling that the balance of power in Inazuma had shifted in ways she couldn't yet fully understand. Momon's presence loomed large, a shadow that seemed to stretch across the entire nation. And as she left the throne room, her mind was filled with questions—questions that had no easy answers, and a sense of unease that would linger long after the negotiations were over.

The grand throne room of Tenshukaku was now eerily silent, the echoing footsteps of the last departing officials fading into the distance. Only two figures remained—Raiden Ei, the ruler of Inazuma, and Momon, the enigmatic warrior from another land.

Momon stood firm, his gothic cloak draped over his imposing frame, his masked face concealing whatever emotions might be stirring within. The faint glow of the electro sigils flickered against his dark armor as he tilted his head slightly, his voice even but inquisitive.

"Why did you give Enkanomiya to me?"

Ei's violet eyes narrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. For a moment, she seemed to struggle with her words, as if debating how much to reveal. Finally, she sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "I gave Enkanomiya to you because it was the only way to ensure that the priestess of Watatsumi wouldn't try to claim it as her own territory. By placing it under your control, I removed that possibility."

Momon tilted his head slightly, the movement almost imperceptible beneath his mask. "That's low, Ei. You gave those islands to me, a stranger, instead of your own subject. It feels like you're using me as a pawn in your political games."

Ei's cheeks flushed a faint red, her composure slipping for just a moment. "That's not true!" she snapped, her voice rising slightly. She took a step closer to Momon, her eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and something else—something softer, almost pleading. "You and I are not strangers anymore, Momon. As I said before, you are the reason this nation is changing. You are the reason I have changed. I trust you with Enkanomiya because I believe you will use its power wisely. This isn't about politics—it's about trust."

Before Momon could respond, a familiar voice cut through the tension, its playful tone a stark contrast to the seriousness of the moment. "Aww, look who's become soft," Yae Miko teased, stepping out from the shadows with her usual grace. Her lips curled into a mischievous smile as she approached the two, her eyes dancing with amusement.

Ei turned sharply, her expression a mix of surprise and irritation. "Miko? What are you doing here?" she demanded, her voice tinged with exasperation.

Miko placed a hand on her chest, feigning offense. "Am I not important enough, Ei? Am I not your dearest friend?" she asked, her tone dripping with mock hurt. "And here I thought you valued my company."

Ei sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as if trying to stave off a headache. "Miko, this is not a joke. Enkanomiya is one of the oldest human civilizations in Teyvat. It sank beneath the waves during the war between the Heavenly Principles and the Second Throne. By the orders of Celestia, I was forced to slay Orobashi for daring to seek the secrets of the Heavenly Principles. Do you not understand how deep this goes? How dangerous is it?"

Miko's smile faded, her expression growing more serious. She crossed her arms, her gaze shifting between Ei and Momon. "I understand more than you think, Ei. But perhaps it's you who doesn't fully grasp the implications of your actions. By giving Enkanomiya to Momon, you've placed a tremendous burden on his shoulders—and you've tied his fate even more closely to Inazuma's. Are you prepared for what that might mean?"

Ei's gaze softened, her frustration giving way to a more contemplative expression. She looked at Momon, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "I… I didn't mean to burden you. But I believe in you, Momon. You've already done so much for Inazuma, and I know you'll continue to do what's right. Enkanomiya is a place of immense knowledge. If anyone can wield it responsibly, it's you."

Momon shook his head. "Fine. I'll look after Enkanomiya. But if some ancient horror from the abyss crawls out of there, don't come crying to me."

Ei gave a rare, small smile. "I won't."

Miko giggled. "Oh, now I must see what kind of kingdom our dear Momon will carve out of those forgotten ruins. Perhaps I should pay a visit."

Momon's deep, resonant voice broke the silence, his words carrying a weight that hinted at the enormity of his responsibilities. "The Domain of Nazarick is growing larger. I must teleport Enkanomiya away from Watatsumi Island… somewhere in the middle of the ocean."

Ei's brow furrowed, her violet eyes narrowing in confusion. "The Domain of Nazarick?" she repeated, her tone laced with curiosity. "What do you mean by that?"

Momon turned his masked face toward her, his presence as imposing as ever. "The old Mondstadt, Dragonspine, and Guyun Stone Forest—these realms are under my ownership. I came to possess them in a similar manner to Enkanomiya. Since they are mine, I've taken to calling them collectively as the Domain of Nazarick."

Yae Miko's lips curled into a sly smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "My, my, Momon. Are you looking to create your own kingdom? It seems you've been quite busy amassing territories."

Momon shook his head, his tone calm but firm. "I'm an adventurer, not a king. My goal isn't to rule or to build an empire. These places… they came under my care by circumstance, not by design. And besides," he added, a hint of dry humor in his voice, "wouldn't your beloved Celestia get rather upset if a new nation just popped out of nowhere in the middle of Teyvat?"

Ei's expression softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "You have a point," she admitted. "Celestia has always been… particular about the balance of power in Teyvat. The emergence of a new nation, especially one as powerful as yours would undoubtedly be, would not go unnoticed—or unchallenged."

Miko chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "Oh, let them fret. What can they do? Smite him? Please." She glanced at Momon with an almost mischievous glint in her eye. "If anything, I'd say Celestia should be the one worried, not you."

Momon let out a small scoff, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze—an unspoken challenge, perhaps, or mere amusement at Miko's boldness. "That's assuming they see me as a threat," he mused. "For now, I just want to keep my domains away from unnecessary conflict. Moving Enkanomiya out of Watatsumi's reach is the first step."

Miko's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "And where, pray tell, do you plan to relocate an entire floating civilization? The middle of the ocean sounds rather… vague."

"What I meant in the middle of the ocean was to be near Inazuma but also near the mainland," said Momon.

Ei's gaze softened, a hint of admiration in her eyes. "You've thought this through," she said. "I appreciate that. Inazuma has been through enough turmoil; the last thing we need is another conflict over territory."

Miko, ever the provocateur, couldn't resist adding, "Though I must say, Momon, you're becoming quite the landowner. First Dragonspine, then Guyun Stone Forest, and now Enkanomiya. If you're not careful, people might start calling you the 'Lord of Lost Realms.'"

Momon's response was dry, almost amused. "I'll leave the titles to the poets and storytellers."

Miko, watching the exchange, simply smiled. "How interesting," she murmured, crossing her arms. "I wonder… just how far will your 'Nazarick' spread, Momon?"

Momon's deep, resonant voice broke the silence, his tone laced with a mixture of confusion and mild exasperation. "Aren't you getting a little too deep into this, Miko? Is it really that exciting for you?"

Ei, unable to resist joining in, added with a raised eyebrow, "Yeah, Miko. It's almost like you want him to create a kingdom or something. What's with the obsession?"

Miko's lips curled into her signature sly smile, her eyes sparkling with unabashed delight. "Fufufu~ You have no idea just how epic it is to imagine it all," she said, her voice dripping with playful enthusiasm. "In fact, I've been so inspired that I've started writing Light Novels about you, Momon."

Momon's masked face tilted slightly, his confusion palpable even through the featureless visage. "You're writing Light Novels about me?" he asked, his tone a mix of disbelief and curiosity. Internally, he was even more baffled. They have Light Novels in this world? he thought, though he kept that particular revelation to himself.

Miko's smile widened, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush as she clasped her hands together, clearly delighted by his reaction. "Fufu~ Yes, indeed! One of them is called 'The Wandering Skeleton and the Kitsune Maiden.' It's quite the tale, if I do say so myself."

Momon's reaction was immediate and visceral. He turned away, one hand rising to his masked face as if to shield himself from the sheer embarrassment of it all. "Lord have mercy," he muttered, his deep voice tinged with a rare note of mortification. "That's… that's just embarrassing."

Ei, unable to contain herself, let out a soft chuckle, her usual stoic demeanor cracking under the weight of the absurdity. "I have to admit, Miko, even I'm a little impressed by your… creativity. Though I'm not sure Momon shares the sentiment."

Miko waved a hand dismissively, her smile never wavering. "Oh, don't be such a spoilsport, Ei. It's all in good fun! Besides, Momon's adventures are the perfect material for a Light Novel. Mysterious masked warrior, wielder of unimaginable power, protector of lost realms—it practically writes itself!"

Momon turned back to face her, his tone dry but tinged with amusement. "I'm not sure whether to be flattered or horrified. But if you're going to write about me, could you at least make it… I don't know, less embarrassing?"

Miko's eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Oh, but where's the fun in that? Besides, the readers love a little drama. And a kitsune maiden pining after a brooding, mysterious hero? That's pure gold."

Momon sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. "I don't even want to know what else you've written about me. Please tell me there's at least some accuracy in these… stories."

Miko's grin turned positively wicked. "Oh, I take some creative liberties, of course. But don't worry, I make sure to capture your essence. Brooding, mysterious, and just a touch of tragic heroism. The readers eat it up."

Momon shook his head, his tone wry. "I'm not sure whether to thank you or demand you stop. But either way, I think I've had enough of this conversation."

Ei chuckled softly, her expression softening as she looked at Momon. "Don't take it too seriously. Miko's just… being Miko. Though I have to admit, it's refreshing to see you flustered for once."

Momon crossed his arms, his tone dry but not unkind. "Glad I could provide some entertainment."

Miko's voice was light and teasing as she tightened her grip on Momon's arm, her tone dripping with playful affection. "Oh, don't be like that, Momon. For an undead, you're showing quite the shy side. Fufu~ I think it's cute."

Ei's violet eyes widened slightly, her usual stoic demeanor cracking under the weight of the revelation. She turned her gaze to Momon, her voice tinged with surprise. "Momon… she knows?"

Momon, his masked face giving nothing away, shifted slightly under Ei's scrutiny. His deep, resonant voice was calm but carried a hint of awkwardness. "Uh, well, didn't I tell you that I met her a day before our battle?"

Ei's brow furrowed as she tried to recall their previous conversations. "You mentioned meeting her, but you didn't say anything about… this."

Miko giggled, her golden eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, Ei, you should have been there~" she purred, giving Momon's arm a playful squeeze before finally releasing him. "We had such an amazing night at Chinju Forest." She sighed dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. "The moonlight filtering through the trees, the gentle hum of nature all around us… And best of all, I got to see what he looks like beneath that mask."

A deep silence filled the room.

Ei blinked. Slowly.

"Miko…" Ei finally spoke, her voice low, almost disbelieving. "You mean to tell me… that you made him remove his mask for you?"

Miko's lips curled into a knowing smile as she brought a finger to her chin. "Oh? Now that's an interesting way to phrase it," she mused playfully. "I didn't make him do anything, Ei. I was simply very persuasive. You know how irresistible I can be~"

Ei sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as a sense of resigned understanding dawned upon her. "Of course," she said dryly. "Of course you would make someone like Momon reveal himself just to satisfy your curiosity, Miko."

Miko beamed, utterly unashamed. "Naturally~" she admitted without a hint of guilt. "How could I possibly resist such a rare opportunity? The great and mysterious 'Momon' unmasked before my very eyes… Fufu~ I assure you, Ei, it was a sight to behold."

Ei shot Momon a look, half-expecting him to deny it, but he merely let out a defeated sigh.

"This is exactly why I didn't want to talk about it," he grumbled.

Ei shook her head. "Miko, you really do test everyone's patience."

Miko simply grinned. "That's part of my charm, dear Ei."

"I'm going to my companions," Momon said, his voice flat as he turned away, eager to put some distance between himself and the mischievous fox.

Before he could take a step, however, a familiar voice chimed in, light and playful.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't be so hasty." Miko stepped beside him, reaching out to gently hook her arm around his. "Let's go together~"

Momon immediately stiffened at the unexpected contact. His first instinct was to pull away, but he realized doing so would only encourage her to tease him further. He sighed in defeat. "Must you always do this?" he muttered under his breath.

Miko smiled up at him, her golden eyes gleaming with amusement. "Do what? Be adorable? Be charming?" she asked innocently. "I can't help it, Momon. It's simply who I am."

Ei, who had been watching from a short distance, suddenly gawked at the sight before her. The Raiden Shogun—an unshakable warrior, a divine ruler—was left speechless. Her violet eyes widened as she took in the way Miko clung to Momon's arm, looking as natural as if they were lovers on a casual stroll.

Ei's eyes widened further, her usual stoic demeanor cracking under the weight of Miko's audacity. "M-Miko, you're going to hold Momon's arm like a couple? Out in the city? In public?" she stammered, her voice rising slightly in disbelief.

Miko turned to her longtime friend, her fox-like grin widening. "And what exactly is wrong with that?" she asked with a sly tilt of her head. "Isn't it fair for Momon to have a lovely female companion by his side? After all, his dear friend Aether seems to be quite close to Ayaka~"

Ei's expression faltered slightly, and a subtle blush dusted her cheeks. "T-That's… Ayaka is a noblewoman, and Aether is—"

"Aether is an outsider like Momon," Miko interjected smoothly. "And yet, no one seems to bat an eye at their growing bond, do they?" She gently squeezed Momon's arm, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. "So why shouldn't I offer my company to this handsome adventurer?"

Momon groaned inwardly. He had fought against overwhelming forces, had been the target of gods' suspicions, had faced monstrous beings beyond mortal comprehension—but this?

This was hell.

Momon, for his part, could only shake his head in resignation. "Lord have mercy," he thought to himself, his internal monologue a mix of exasperation and amusement. "I can't wait to leave this country and return to a bit of normalcy." Despite his discomfort, there was a part of him that couldn't help but appreciate the absurdity of the situation.

Chapter Text

Momon strode through the streets of Inazuma City, his long, imposing figure clad in dark armor, his masked visage unreadable as always. But the truly bizarre sight was the woman at his side. Yae Miko, Guuji of the Grand Narukami Shrine, the elegant and untouchable priestess, held onto his arm with a satisfied smirk, as if they were nobles on a leisurely stroll.

The citizens of Inazuma stared. Some stopped in their tracks. Others whispered behind their hands, their voices hushed but their shock unmistakable.

It was an impossible sight.

Miko, the untouchable Kitsune Priestess—known for her wit, cunning, and connection to the divine—walking arm in arm with him. Momon, the terrifying enigma who had fought and defeated the Raiden Shogun.

There had been fear in the beginning. When Momon first appeared, many believed he would bring ruin to Inazuma. A foreign power unlike any before, his strength so overwhelming that even their god had been forced to acknowledge it. Yet, despite all that had transpired, the nation had survived.

More than that—it had changed.

The last few days had been a waking nightmare for Inazuma's people. Between the fierce battles, the storm of uncertainty, and the shifting tides of power, it felt as though the entire nation had been on the brink of collapse. But now, with the dust settling, the land had found a new sense of balance.

The Sakoku Decree was no more. The borders had been opened.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, merchants from across the seas could enter freely. Families long separated by an unyielding decree could reunite. Travelers could come and go without fear of being branded as criminals.

And at the heart of it all—this strange, foreign entity who had become an unshakable force within Inazuma.

The respect given to Momon was not born of affection nor of admiration. It was born of reverence—a deep, wordless acknowledgment of the undeniable truth:

This entity had changed Inazuma's fate.

Still, the sight of him walking so casually with Miko… it was almost too much to process.

"Is it just me, or does that look… unnatural?" one merchant muttered, watching them from the side of the road.

"You're not alone," whispered another. "That's the Guuji of the Grand Narukami Shrine. What is she doing holding onto him like that?"

"Didn't he defeat the Shogun?"

"Exactly. And she looks… pleased?"

Momon ignored the whispers, though he was fully aware of the many eyes on him. He had expected this. He had caused enough of a stir in Inazuma already—there was no doubt his presence would always be a subject of discussion.

But Miko? She revelled in it.

"My, my," she murmured, glancing at the gawking citizens. "It seems we've become the most interesting thing in the city today."

Momon sighed, his patience thinning. "You knew this would happen," he said, keeping his voice low. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Miko tilted her head, her fox-like grin widening. "Of course I am."

He exhaled through his nose, deciding to simply endure it. After all, he had faced worse.

At least, that's what he thought.

Because Miko wasn't done.

With an almost imperceptible shift, she leaned into him slightly, lowering her voice to a soft, teasing whisper.

"Tell me, Momon," she purred, her tone dripping with amusement. "How does it feel to have all of Inazuma watching us like this?"

Momon's fingers twitched at his side.

Yes.

This was worse.

Momon's gaze swept across the bustling streets of Inazuma City before he spotted a familiar trio seated at a small food stall. Under the warm glow of paper lanterns, Aether, Paimon, and Ayaka sat at Shimura's, enjoying what seemed to be freshly made onigiri.

Aether, ever perceptive, noticed the growing number of eyes following Momon and Miko through the streets. He immediately lifted a hand in greeting, a casual yet deliberate gesture meant to ease the attention on them.

Still, there was no hiding the strangeness of the sight.

Momon—dark, imposing, and shrouded in mystery—walking arm-in-arm with Yae Miko, the enigmatic kitsune Guuji of the Grand Narukami Shrine. It was almost surreal.

Even Aether, who had traveled to multiple nations and seen all manner of strange occurrences, found the image odd.

Paimon, however, had no such reservations.

She grinned, waving them over before stuffing another mouthful of rice into her cheeks. "Momon! Did you finally finish with all the politicking?" she asked, her words slightly muffled by food.

Momon folded his arms, tilting his head slightly. "You should really finish chewing first, Paimon."

"Yeah, he's right," Aether added, shaking his head in amusement.

Paimon pouted, hurriedly swallowing before grumbling, "Geez, you sound like Ayaka…"

Beside her, Ayaka, ever the refined noble, dabbed her lips with a napkin before turning toward them. "Momon, Guuji Yae," she greeted with a small nod, her voice polite but warm. "It is good to see you both."

Miko's ever-present smirk widened as she leaned in slightly. "Oh my, what a lovely little gathering~" she purred. "Are you three having a romantic evening together?"

Ayaka's composure faltered for the briefest moment. A delicate shade of red bloomed across her pale cheeks, but she quickly recovered. She knew Miko's teasing all too well.

Clearing her throat softly, Ayaka responded with practiced grace. "Of course, Guuji Yae. This is a time of celebration for the whole nation. It is only natural to enjoy a meal in good company."

Miko chuckled, clearly pleased by Ayaka's composure. "Oh? Such a proper answer. How adorable~"

Momon, on the other hand, was already tuning Miko out. He knew better than to get caught up in her games. Instead, he focused on something far simpler.

"Ahem." He cleared his throat—though the action was purely habitual, considering he lacked a throat in his skeletal form. "Do you want something to eat?"

Miko blinked, momentarily surprised.

Momon was undead. He had no need for food, nor did he have any reason to care about meals. And yet, here he was—asking her, of all people, if she wanted something to eat.

For the briefest moment, her expression softened.

She quickly masked it with her usual teasing demeanor, resting a hand against her cheek. "Ara~ How thoughtful of you, Momon." She tilted her head, her fox-like ears twitching slightly. "In that case… I would love a plate of Fried Tofu."

Momon gave a small nod before turning his attention to the elderly shop owner.

"Boss," he called, addressing Kanbei, the owner of Shimura's. "One Fried Tofu."

Kanbei, an old but energetic man, turned at the sound of his voice. His eyes widened slightly, taking in the sight before him. The dark Honorary Knight, and the ever-elusive Guuji Yae—gathered at his humble food stall.

It was an honor beyond words.

"Oh, what a blessing to have such esteemed guests in my shop!" Kanbei exclaimed, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. "Fried Tofu, coming right up!"

With a newfound vigor, he set to work, preparing the dish with care and precision.

Momon returned his gaze to Miko, who was still watching him with an unreadable expression.

"What?" he asked, noticing her staring.

Miko simply smiled, her sharp golden eyes gleaming with mischief. "Nothing~" she said, her voice almost too sweet.

Momon knew better than to trust that.

But for now, he let it slide.

As they waited for the food, the group settled into a comfortable silence. The soft hum of conversation from other patrons blended with the occasional clatter of dishes, creating a peaceful atmosphere in Shimura's. The glow of lanterns illuminated the streets of Inazuma City, casting a warm, golden hue over the wooden stalls and the polished stone pathways. The weight of recent events—battles fought, alliances forged, and power shifts—seemed, for now, to be momentarily lifted.

Aether leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the wooden counter as he turned to Momon with a thoughtful expression. "So, how did things go with the Shogun? Is everything settled now?"

Momon, arms crossed, gave a slight nod. "Yes, all went flawlessly. Watatsumi Island retains a semi-autonomous government, meaning they will have their own leadership and military force but will still technically remain under the authority of the Shogunate. It's a fair compromise, and it should help maintain peace for the foreseeable future."

Aether exhaled, his shoulders relaxing. "That's a relief. Given how things were before, I didn't expect that to happen without a fight."

Momon shrugged. "It was either that or Ei would have had to deal with an endless rebellion or worse... Even she understood that."

"Well, I'm glad it worked out," Aether said before his expression shifted into something more curious. "But… what about those floating islands you raised with magic from the deep?"

Momon tilted his head slightly, his tone nonchalant. "Oh, that? Well, guess what, Aether? It happened again."

Aether blinked. "What do you mean, again?"

"I get to keep those islands," Momon said casually.

"For real?!" Paimon's eyes widened in disbelief. "Wait, hold on—how many territories do you have now? At this rate, you're gonna end up with one in every nation we visit!"

Momon sighed, rubbing his temple as if even the thought of it was exhausting. "So many responsibilities…" he muttered. "Do I have to pay yearly taxes for those, though? I should probably ask Jean about this when I visit Mondstadt again." He groaned slightly. "I've always hated taxes."

Miko, who had been idly swirling a strand of her rosy hair around her finger, let out a soft, melodic laugh. "Ara~ Taxes, you say?" she mused. "What a terribly mortal problem to have. But, fufu~ I'm sure Ei wouldn't dare tax you after everything."

"I believe those territories are completely independent under your ownership, Momon. I doubt anyone would try to impose taxes on you, especially after everything you've done." Aether added, his brow furrowing as he considered the logistics.

Momon tapped a finger against the wooden counter. "I think so… but it's better to ask, just to be sure. I don't want any surprises down the line." He didn't trust bureaucracy. No matter what world he was in, there was always some fine print waiting to ruin things.

Just then, a voice broke through their conversation.

"Fried Tofu is ready!" called Kanbei, the elderly shop owner, his voice carrying with a hint of pride.

Momon turned his head and saw the two neatly plated portions of Fried Tofu set before them, the aroma rich and enticing. He hadn't ordered one for himself, yet there were two. A small oversight on Kanbei's part, but it worked out just fine.

Reaching into his pouch, Momon paid the old man before taking one of the plates and handing it to Miko. "Here."

Miko's ears twitched slightly in amusement as she accepted the dish, her sharp golden eyes glinting with a knowing look. "How very chivalrous of you, Momon~" she teased, though there was a slight warmth in her tone that hadn't been there before.

Without missing a beat, Momon grabbed the second plate and turned to Paimon. "And this one's for you. I know you'll clean this plate faster than Aether can blink."

Paimon gasped dramatically, her eyes lighting up as she reached for the dish. "Hoho~! Thanks, Momon! I'm gonna dig in!" she declared before immediately stuffing a piece into her mouth, her delighted hums filling the air.

Aether chuckled, shaking his head at her enthusiasm. "You just ate…"

Paimon waved him off with a full mouth, making a few muffled sounds before gulping down her bite. "Yeah, but this is Fried Tofu! You don't just pass up on something like this!"

Momon shook his head, watching her devour the meal with an almost mechanical efficiency. He had no doubt she would clean that plate.

Miko, meanwhile, took a delicate bite of her own, savoring the taste. She stole a glance at Momon, her smile unreadable. "You know, for someone who doesn't eat, you're quite considerate."

Momon exhaled, leaning back slightly. "I just know what to expect. Paimon would've stolen half of Aether's food otherwise."

"Hey! That's not—" Paimon paused mid-sentence, suddenly remembering all the other times she'd done exactly that. "…Well, maybe."

Ayaka, who had been quietly observing the exchange, smiled softly. "It's good to see everyone in such high spirits. After everything that's happened, moments like these are precious."

Momon sighed, turning his gaze upward. Lord have mercy, I need to leave this country before they make me Emperor at this rate…

Chapter Text

While Miko was leisurely savoring her Fried Tofu, the rich aroma of the dish lingering in the air, the group's moment of tranquility was gently interrupted by the approach of a woman. Her voice carried over the night air like a fine silk thread, smooth and refined.

"Greetings."

The tone was mature yet melodious, and Miko's fox-like ears twitched ever so slightly at the sound. A slow, knowing smile graced her lips before she even turned to look.

"Oh my, I know that voice."

She shifted in her seat, her eyes glinting with curiosity as she gazed upon the newcomer. The woman standing before them possessed an air of quiet grace—her fair skin glowing softly under the lantern lights. Her long hair cascaded in a mesmerizing gradient of deep to icy blues, the ends curling delicately. Two ornamental buns sat atop her head, decorated with intricate fan-like accessories that swayed subtly with her movements. But what stood out most were her droopy yet enchanting eyes—purple irises swirling with a hypnotic spiral at their centers.

The woman smiled warmly. "Hello, Miko. It's been some time."

Momon, who had been quietly observing the exchange, immediately noted the woman's unusual features. The tail, the pointed ears, the spiral eyes—it was clear that she was no ordinary human. His masked face tilted slightly, his curiosity piqued. "A youkai," he thought to himself, though he kept the observation to himself for the moment.

Miko placed a hand on her hip and gave an amused chuckle. "My old friend Mizuki… I must say, I had no idea you had come to Inazuma. I thought you were still living in Natlan."

The woman—Mizuki—tilted her head ever so slightly, her expression relaxed yet refined. "I recently returned, and with that, I have also taken up a new endeavor. I am now a major shareholder of the Aisa Bathhouse."

"Ahh, so that's where you've been hiding," Miko smirked knowingly. "I do recall you venturing to Natlan to study their artificial hot springs, wishing to perfect the craft."

Mizuki gave a light, almost musical laugh. "That's right. I spent some time there learning the methods they use to regulate geothermal energy and enhance the waters' rejuvenating properties. And now, I have put that knowledge to good use."

She then turned her attention toward the travelers, her gaze sweeping over Aether, Momon, and Paimon with quiet interest.

"Ah, but where are my manners?" Miko suddenly gestured with a flourish. "Travelers, allow me to introduce an old youkai friend of mine—Yumemizuki Mizuki. She is a yumekui-baku—a rather fascinating type of youkai with the ability to slip into one's dreams and devour the nightmares that prey upon a slumbering mind."

Mizuki gave a graceful bow, her voice laced with warmth. "It is an honor to meet you, Honorary Knights. I hope your time in Inazuma has been enjoyable."

As she straightened, she reached into the folds of her ornate kimono, retrieving three elegantly designed cards and offering them to the trio.

Aether accepted it hesitantly, glancing at it curiously. "This is…?"

Mizuki's smile deepened. "A VIP pass to the Aisa Bathhouse. This invitation grants you full access to our highest-tier services—completely free of charge."

Paimon gasped so loudly that several passersby turned their heads in surprise. She clutched the card like a prized treasure, her eyes shimmering. "THIS—this is the opportunity of a lifetime! We can't let this go to waste!"

Aether and Momon exchanged a glance, their expressions thoughtful. They stepped aside slightly to discuss the offer in private. "So, what do you think?" Momon asked, his deep voice calm but carrying a hint of practicality.

Aether shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "To be honest, I'd like to go there. It sounds like a great way to relax after everything we've been through."

Momon nodded, his tone thoughtful. "Agreed. But I'd prefer a hot spring where I can have it all to myself, without any disturbance." He turned back to Mizuki, his masked face giving nothing away. "Miss, do you have any hot springs that fit that description?"

Mizuki, unfazed by the unusual request, nodded with a serene smile. "Of course. We offer personalized accommodations for our esteemed guests. If you desire complete privacy, we have secluded springs tailored for such needs."

Aether immediately understood why Momon asked for such an arrangement. Unlike Miko, Aether had never been able to fully grasp the truth of what Momon was. He knew his companion was not human, but whatever he was, it was clear that Momon intended to keep his true form hidden. Aether simply nodded in silent understanding.

Momon handed the card a final glance before slipping it into his pocket. "Alright then. We'll be there in the evening."

Mizuki inclined her head slightly. "Then we shall prepare for your arrival. I look forward to hosting you, Honorary Knights." With a final graceful bow, she turned and glided away, vanishing into the flow of the bustling night market.

"How greedy, Momon~" she purred, her voice dripping with playful mischief. "To claim an entire hot spring all for yourself. Whatever shall the poor bathhouse do?"

As soon as she'd sharply, already regretting his decision to engage in conversation. "Don't start now, Miko."

But Miko simply grinned, taking another bite of her Fried Tofu. "Oh, I wouldn't dare… Not yet, at least."

Momon rubbed his temple, bracing himself for whatever teasing Miko had yet to unleash.

As the evening settled over Inazuma, the moon cast a soft silver glow over the city, its light reflecting off the tranquil waters that surrounded the Aisa Bathhouse. The establishment was a grand yet serene structure, nestled within a private section of the city, away from the bustling streets. Steam curled lazily from behind its elegant wooden gates, carrying the scent of mineral-rich waters, soothing herbs, and exotic florals.

Momon, Aether, Paimon, and Ayaka approached the entrance, their footsteps muffled against the polished stone pathway. The air was warm and carried a faint trace of hinoki wood, a scent that promised relaxation and comfort.

At the entrance, a man stood in waiting. He was slightly on the chubby side, his round face adorned with a pair of thin-rimmed glasses. His dark yukata bore the emblem of the bathhouse, and he carried himself with the welcoming air of an experienced host.

As soon as he caught sight of them, his eyes widened in recognition. His expression instantly shifted to one of deep respect, and without hesitation, he bowed low.

"By the Archons…!" he exclaimed. "The Honorary Knights and the esteemed Shirasagi Himegimi! What an honor to have you grace our humble establishment." His voice was rich with enthusiasm, and he straightened, offering them an earnest smile.

Ayaka, ever the picture of elegance, returned the gesture with a polite bow of her own. "Good evening, Aikawa-san. It is a pleasure to be here."

Aether, holding up the intricately designed cards they had received earlier, stepped forward. "Hello, sir. We were given these by Miss Mizuki."

Aikawa Susumu adjusted his glasses as he carefully inspected the VIP passes, nodding approvingly. "Ah, yes! Miss Mizuki has already informed me of your arrival." He lifted his gaze back to them, eyes twinkling with excitement. "She has made special arrangements in preparation for your visit. Please, come inside—she has been expecting you."

With that, the large wooden doors creaked open, revealing the warm and inviting interior of the bathhouse. A wave of gentle steam rolled out, carrying with it the rich aroma of hinoki, lavender, and soothing medicinal herbs.

As they stepped inside, they were immediately greeted by a stunning display of traditional Inazuman architecture. The interior was spacious yet intimate, illuminated by soft paper lanterns that cast a golden glow upon the polished wooden floors. Delicate screens, painted with serene landscapes of rolling hills and koi-filled ponds, separated different sections of the bathhouse. The faint sound of flowing water filled the air, accompanied by the distant murmur of patrons indulging in the luxurious atmosphere.

Momon's gaze swept across the bathhouse with a practiced eye. Every detail—from the subtle engravings on the wooden beams to the calming atmosphere—had been meticulously crafted for maximum relaxation. Even he had to admit, it was an impressive place.

"Wow…" Paimon whispered in awe, her tiny hands pressed against her cheeks. "This place is huge! It's so fancy! Paimon's never been anywhere like this before!"

Aikawa Susumu chuckled at her enthusiasm. "We take great pride in ensuring that our guests experience the ultimate relaxation." He gestured toward a side corridor. "Miss Mizuki is waiting in the main hall. Allow me to escort you."

As they followed Aikawa deeper into the bathhouse, the tension from the day's events slowly began to melt away. The evening had only just begun, and already, the promise of rest and comfort lay ahead.

Momon, however, remained silent, his mind briefly wandering as he considered the private hot spring that had been promised to him. If nothing else, he could at least use this time to enjoy a rare moment of solitude.

"I think I'll try one of the public baths. It's been a while since I've had a chance to relax like this," said Aether.

Paimon, who had been floating beside Aether, nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, me too! Paimon's never been to a bathhouse before, so this is gonna be so much fun!"

Ayaka, who had been quietly observing the exchange, smiled softly. "I think I'll join you in the public baths, Aether. It's been a while since I've had the chance to relax as well."

As the group settled into their respective areas, Mizuki, the elegant yumekui-baku, appeared with two servants in tow. Both servants were youkai as well, their presence adding to the otherworldly charm of the bathhouse.

Mizuki's voice was smooth and melodic as she addressed Aikawa Susumu, the bathhouse owner. "Aikawa-san, leave them to me. Thank you."

Aikawa bowed deeply, his expression one of respect and gratitude. "Of course, Miss Mizuki. Please, let me know if you need anything." With that, he took his leave, leaving the group in Mizuki's capable hands.

Mizuki turned to the group, her spiral-shaped eyes glinting with warmth and mischief. "Again, welcome, Honorary Knights. We have prepared everything for you." Her gaze shifted to Momon, her tone carrying a hint of reverence. "Lord Momon, your private hot spring is this way. Please, follow me."

The soft glow of lanterns flickered along the corridor as Mizuki gracefully led the way, her footsteps light against the polished wooden floor. Her two attendants remained behind to assist Aether, Paimon, and Ayaka, ensuring they were properly prepared for their time of relaxation.

Momon followed Mizuki in silence, his gaze subtly sweeping over the bathhouse's refined architecture. The corridor stretched further than expected, lined with intricate sliding doors that led to various private hot spring rooms. The air carried a faint mix of steam, minerals, and soothing florals, a scent that promised complete tranquility.

Finally, at the very end of the hallway, Mizuki came to a stop before a grand sliding door adorned with delicate calligraphy. She turned to face Momon, her expression warm and composed.

"This is your private bath, Lord Momon," she announced smoothly, sliding the door open with practiced grace.

Momon stepped inside, his eyes immediately drawn to the vast steaming pool before him. Unlike the more communal springs, this one was carved into natural stone, allowing warm water to flow freely from a waterfall embedded into the rock. The bath extended into an open-air section, where moonlight filtered through bamboo screens, casting silver reflections upon the rippling surface.

The space was serene, untouched by any presence save for the faint rustling of the wind outside. Everything had been prepared to perfection—fresh towels folded neatly on a wooden rack, scented oils placed beside the bath should he wish to use them, and even a lacquered tray with a porcelain sake set resting on a small table.

Momon took a moment to admire the surroundings, nodding in approval. "This is very nice." His voice was calm, yet there was a sense of satisfaction in his tone.

Mizuki, standing just a few steps behind him, tilted her head slightly. "Would you like me to assist in removing your armor?" she offered, her tone professional, yet carrying the faintest hint of curiosity.

Momon turned slightly, shaking his head. "No, no. Thank you, but there is no need for that." His voice remained polite, yet firm.

Mizuki gave a knowing smile and bowed. "As you wish, Lord Momon. Then, I shall take my leave. Please enjoy your bath." She stepped back and slid the door shut behind her, leaving him alone in complete silence.

For a moment, Momon simply stood there, gazing at the steam rising from the water, watching how it curled and dissipated into the night air.

Then, with a thought, his armor vanished in an instant—disintegrating into nothingness, revealing the truth hidden beneath.

He took a step forward, and for the first time in a long while, he caught sight of himself in the large, floor-to-ceiling mirror that stood in the corner of the room.

A skeletal form, tall and imposing, with a perfectly smooth skull that reflected the lantern's dim light. Where flesh and muscle should be, there was nothing but polished bone, a stark contrast to the luxurious surroundings of the bathhouse.

Yet, at his core, beneath the absence of human skin, something dark pulsed faintly—a void-like presence that clung to his being. His 'clothing' had adjusted to this form, covering his lower half in a dark, shadowy material that seemed to shift between fabric and an otherworldly substance. It had the appearance of long boxers, but when he reached down to touch it, it felt… warm. Solid. Almost like flesh.

His skeletal fingers lingered for a moment. A strange, almost amused thought crossed his mind.

"…Hah. I almost forgot I have a dick while being a skeleton."

His voice echoed in the stillness, carrying an undertone of dry amusement.

He exhaled, though breath was unnecessary, shaking his head slightly as if brushing the thought away.

"Well, it's not a bad thing anyway."

Grabbing a towel, he wrapped it around his waist, covering himself out of habit rather than necessity. He turned back toward the inviting warmth of the hot spring, ready to step in.

Momon let out a deep, satisfied sigh as he sank further into the hot spring, allowing the warmth to seep into his bones—quite literally. Though he no longer had muscles or nerves, the sensation of the heated water wrapping around his skeletal frame was strangely comforting. It was an odd thing, really. He didn't have the flesh to appreciate the soothing embrace of the mineral-rich bath, yet he could still register the pleasure of it. Perhaps it was a lingering memory of what it once felt like to be human.

"Woah, this feels great," he murmured, his voice carrying a rare note of genuine relaxation. He leaned back against the smooth, natural stones that lined the pool's edge, stretching his arms out along the surface. "That woman Mizuki wasn't joking. These hot springs are amazing."

A thin veil of steam curled around him, creating a dreamlike haze that softened the warm glow of the lanterns hanging from the wooden beams above. The gentle sound of trickling water from the nearby waterfall added to the peaceful atmosphere.

Momon's crimson eyes, usually sharp and calculating, softened as he gazed through the mist, lost in thought. The ambiance, the rising steam, the luxurious feel of it all—it stirred something deep within him. A memory, distant yet vivid.

He was reminded of the 9th Floor of the Great Tomb of Nazarick.

Back then, it had been nothing more than a collection of programmed data, a grand structure meticulously designed by him and his guildmates. The 9th Floor had housed a series of extravagant facilities, including a set of beautifully crafted Roman baths, a place where the Supreme Beings of Nazarick could 'relax'—not that they had ever truly needed to, given that their avatars never experienced fatigue. It had all been an illusion of leisure, a concept put in place purely for roleplaying immersion.

But this? This was real.

The rising steam, the sensation of hot water against his bones, the scent of natural minerals—it wasn't just code, it wasn't a game. He was here, in a physical, tangible world. And for all its differences from Yggdrasil, the weight of reality made the experience far more meaningful.

His fingers slowly traced over the surface of the water, watching how the ripples expanded outward, distorting the reflection of his skeletal form.

"Ah… the Great Tomb of Nazarick…" he whispered to himself, the wistfulness in his voice barely above a breath. "How much I miss that glorious guild…"

His mind wandered further, recalling the golden days of his past—Touch Me, Peroroncino, Ulbert, Bukubukuchagama… The countless times they had gathered to discuss the fate of their guild, their great ambitions, their foolish in-game banter… and then, one by one, they had left.

And in the end, he was the only one who remained.

Momon's fingers clenched into a loose fist beneath the water. He had long accepted that the Great Tomb of Nazarick was gone. But what if it had been transported here as well?

Would it have been the same? Would his loyal NPCs have still recognized him as their supreme ruler? Would they still wait for his command, eager to serve?

He exhaled—not out of necessity, but out of habit as if trying to expel the weight of such thoughts from his mind.

"But all of that… is gone now. Forever."

Momon closed his eyes, allowing the heat of the spring to pull him further into quiet contemplation.

Here, in this foreign world, he was alone. There was no Nazarick. No guildmates. No throne of supreme rulership.

Just him.

And yet, despite that bitter truth, the warmth of the hot spring remained comforting.

Perhaps, just for this one evening, he could let himself relax—not as Ainz Ooal Gown, the Overlord of Death, but simply as Momon, the traveler.

Momon had just begun to settle into the tranquility of the hot spring, the warmth sinking into his bones in a way that almost made him forget his unnatural form, when suddenly—

Creak.

The door slid open.

A sharp sensation pricked at his awareness, a presence so familiar that he already knew who it was before even looking.

Momon let out a long sigh. Of course.

"There you are, Momon~"

The playful, sultry voice confirmed his suspicion before his crimson gaze even landed on the one responsible for shattering his peace.

There, standing at the entrance, was none other than Yae Miko—wearing nothing but a towel wrapped snugly around her curvaceous figure. Her long, silken pink hair cascaded down her back, still slightly damp from the steam. Her fox-like eyes shimmered with mischievous delight as she took in his reaction.

But what truly caught Momon off guard was who was standing beside her.

Behind Miko, stepping into the room with composed elegance, was Raiden Ei.

Momon "blinked", genuinely surprised. The Electro Archon's long violet locks glistened with moisture, and her amethyst eyes—while characteristically serious—held a flicker of curiosity. Like Miko, she was clad in a modest towel, though her regal bearing remained untouched by the casual setting.

"You've got to be kidding me…" Momon muttered under his breath before crossing his arms. "Miko, what in the world are you doing here?"

"Oh my, is that any way to greet two beautiful ladies?" Miko teased as she gracefully stepped forward. "Honestly, Momon, you should be honored. After all, it's not every day one gets the privilege of sharing a bath with the Guuji of the Grand Narukami Shrine and the Electro Archon herself."

Momon's crimson gaze shifted to Ei, his expression unreadable. "And you? Don't tell me she dragged you into this?"

"I…" Ei hesitated for a brief moment before straightening her posture. "I was actually interested in coming to the hot springs. Since you were here as well, I thought… it would be a good opportunity."

Her voice was calm, as always, but Momon could hear the slight uncertainty beneath her words.

Miko giggled, placing a hand over her lips. "See, Momon? Even Ei wanted to enjoy a soak with you. There's no need to be so shy~."

Momon sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Of course. It's Miko. Of course, she'd pull something like this.

He watched as both women stepped into the steaming water, their movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring the feeling of the hot spring embracing their skin.

Miko took her place on his right, letting out a relaxed hum as she leaned back against the rocks, her soft pink hair floating slightly in the water.

Ei, meanwhile, settled on his left, her usually stiff posture loosening just slightly as she adjusted to the warmth of the bath. Her regal aura remained intact, but there was something unguarded about her expression—something that made Momon realize that even an Archon could appreciate the simple comforts of a hot spring.

Momon, however, was more focused on the fact that, despite the vast size of the hot spring, both of them had chosen to sit right next to him.

He glanced to his right—Miko's slender form was dangerously close, her towel clinging to her damp skin. The scent of sakura blossoms mixed with the steamy air around her, only adding to her usual allure.

He glanced to his left—Ei's presence was noticeably calmer but no less intense. The way the dim lantern light reflected off her damp shoulders and collarbone made her look almost ethereal, a goddess bathing in the divine glow of her own element.

Momon slowly exhaled. "I don't suppose either of you considered sitting… anywhere else?"

Miko chuckled, resting her cheek against her palm as she gazed at him with a knowing smirk. "Now, now, Momon. Why would we waste such a rare opportunity? Surely you wouldn't be so heartless as to chase us away?"

Ei simply closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the water soothe her senses. "I see no issue with our current arrangement."

Momon's skeletal fingers tapped against the stone edge of the hot spring.

This… is going to be a long bath.

Momon barely had time to process the presence of both women before he felt a soft touch against his skeletal chest.

"Woah, Momon~ so this is what your body looks like," Miko murmured, her voice dripping with curiosity and amusement as her slender fingers traced over his exposed ribcage. Her nails, painted a delicate shade of violet, lightly grazed the smooth, polished bone, sending an odd sensation through him—not pain, but something akin to a phantom reaction from nerves that no longer existed.

Momon exhaled, resting an elbow on the edge of the hot spring. "It's just bones, Miko." He shot her a dry look, crimson pinpricks glowing faintly in the darkness of his eye sockets. "What exactly were you expecting?"

Miko smirked, tilting her head slightly as she continued to run her fingers along the contours of his skeletal form. "Oh, I don't know~. Given how powerful you are, I suppose I was expecting something more divine… or monstrous." She tapped his ribcage lightly. "Instead, you're just—hmm, how should I put it?—elegantly ominous."

"Elegantly ominous?" Momon repeated, raising a nonexistent eyebrow.

"Yes," she purred, her ears twitching slightly. "Terrifying, yet oddly sophisticated. Truly befitting of someone as mysterious as you, Lord Momon."

He sighed. "Flattery won't get you anything, Miko."

"Oh? What a shame." Miko gave a playful pout before her gaze flickered downward, locking onto something beneath his ribcage.

Her teasing expression shifted slightly.

"The red sphere…"

Momon followed her line of sight, already knowing what had caught her attention.

Nestled within the hollow space beneath his ribs, pulsing with an almost hypnotic crimson glow, was a World-Class Item.

"It's even more mesmerizing up close," Miko muttered as she leaned in. "I can almost feel the power radiating from it…"

"I've been meaning to ask about that as well," Ei spoke up from Momon's left, her violet eyes sharp with intrigue. "You've mentioned before that it's a powerful artifact… but just how powerful is it?"

Momon shifted slightly in the water, glancing between the two. Their fascination was expected—after all, World-Class Items were beyond the comprehension of this world. Even he had only a surface-level understanding of their full potential.

"Yes," he admitted, "it is one of the most powerful items in my possession. A World-Class Item." His voice was steady, but there was a weight behind his words, a subtle reverence for the relic embedded within him.

Ei's gaze never wavered. "And you keep it beneath your ribs?"

Momon nodded. "Mostly for the aesthetic."

That answer made Miko chuckle. "Oh, so even an undead overlord like you cares about aesthetics?"

"I do," he admitted without hesitation. "But more importantly, keeping it within my body ensures that it remains protected. This isn't just any ordinary artifact—it is a shield, a safeguard against any enemy who might possess World Items of their own."

That statement made Ei narrow her eyes slightly. "So… there are other artifacts of this level? And potentially, other beings that could wield them?"

"Indeed," Momon confirmed. "Though I haven't encountered any —yet."

Miko rested her chin on her hand, her fox-like smile returning. "My, my… what a frightening thought. But I suppose it's only natural that someone as powerful as you would take extra precautions." She traced a delicate finger along the edge of the glowing sphere, the light reflecting off her eyes. "I must say… there's something quite beautiful about it. A forbidden kind of beauty."

Momon gave a small, knowing chuckle. "You'd be wise not to underestimate it. Even touching it carelessly could have unforeseen consequences."

Miko's ears twitched, but instead of pulling away, she smirked. "Oh? How dangerous. I like it even more now~."

Ei, however, remained more reserved. She stared at the artifact for a moment longer before speaking again. "If this sphere is truly as powerful as you claim… then I'm curious. If someone were to try and take it—"

"They wouldn't live long enough to succeed," Momon interrupted, his voice calm but absolute. The crimson glow of his eye sockets burned slightly brighter for a brief second. "It is bound to me. No force in this world could remove it against my will."

Ei nodded, seeming satisfied with that answer.

Miko, on the other hand, simply let out a small hum, her gaze flickering between Momon's exposed bones and the eerie glow of the World-Class Item. "Fascinating…" she murmured, before leaning back against the rocks with a satisfied sigh. "Well, I suppose that answers my questions… for now."

Momon shook his head and exhaled. These two are too curious for their own good…

Momon's deep, resonant voice broke the silence, his tone calm but carrying a hint of gravity. "There are around 200 of these World Class Items, but only 20 of them are unrivaled in terms of power. Sadly, they can only be used once and never again."

Ei's violet eyes widened slightly, her expression one of quiet fascination. "What type of power do they have?" she asked, her tone filled with curiosity.

Momon's response was calm but carried a hint of caution. "Power that can destroy the balance of the world or change the rules of the world."

Ei was visibly shocked by this information, her mind racing with the implications. Such power was beyond anything she had ever encountered. It was the kind of power that could bring even Celestia to its knees. The more she learned about Momon, the more terrifying—and awe-inspiring—he became. His power seemed limitless, a force of nature that defied comprehension.

Miko, ever the provocateur, leaned closer to Momon, her fingers brushing against the smooth, metallic surface of one of the rings on his skeletal hand. "Hmm… Momon, it seems you possess a ring on all your fingers. I guess they too are powerful items."

Momon turned his head slightly, his hollow eye sockets narrowing as he looked at her. "Yeah, they all have their own role in a battle," he said, his deep voice calm but carrying a hint of dry humor.

Miko's smile was unapologetic, her fox-like eyes glinting with mischief. "Is that so? What can this one do?" She pointed at one of the rings, her fingers tracing its intricate design.

Momon's response was calm but carried a hint of gravity. "This one? It protects me from divine magic."

Miko's eyes widened slightly, her curiosity piqued. "So from angels?" she asked, her tone filled with intrigue.

Momon shook his head, his tone matter-of-fact. "Not just angels. Every being that can use divine magic."

Ei, who had been quietly observing the exchange, leaned slightly closer, her violet eyes fixed on the ring. Her expression was one of quiet fascination, her gaze lingering on the intricate design. "Divine magic… That's a rare and powerful ability. To have protection against it is… impressive."

Momon's skeletal face gave nothing away, but his tone carried a hint of caution. "Divine magic is just one of many threats. These rings are tools, nothing more. They serve their purpose, but they're not invincible."

"I'm getting carried away… I shouldn't be explaining all this," Momon thought, a hint of regret creeping into his mind.

He had been too caught up in the conversation, too willing to share knowledge that was far beyond what this world should ever know. The moment he spoke about World-Class Items, he saw the way Ei's eyes sharpened—the way Miko leaned in closer, her curiosity practically devouring his every word.

The more he revealed, the more they wanted to know.

It was dangerous.

"I must not keep making the same mistake."

If he wasn't careful, he might let something slip—something that would shake the very foundation of Teyvat. He wasn't dealing with ordinary humans. Ei, the God of Eternity, had spent centuries warring for her vision of a perfect world. Miko, cunning and perceptive, knew exactly how to draw secrets out of him with her teasing words and sly touches.

They were already suspicious.

Already intrigued.

He could feel their gazes piercing through him, silently demanding more answers.

No.

This had to stop.

Carefully, he leaned back, his crimson gaze cooling, his tone returning to one of deliberate control.

"I've already said too much," he muttered.

A flicker of amusement danced across Miko's face, but Ei's expression remained unreadable.

Momon exhaled internally. Enough.

He wouldn't let himself make the same mistake again.

Miko's fingers lazily trailed across Momon's chest, the sharp contrast between her soft touch and his hardened skeletal form sending a strange sensation through him—if he could even call it that. She hummed in amusement before her gaze flickered downward, her fox-like eyes narrowing with curiosity.

Beneath the rippling surface of the steaming water, she noticed something. A towel, wrapped snugly around his waist.

"Oh? Momon~," Miko purred, mischief lacing her tone. "Why are you covering yourself with a towel? Fufufu~ Could it be… you're hiding another powerful item down there?"

Ei's brows furrowed as she shot Miko a disapproving glance. "Miko, that's inappropriate."

Miko simply giggled, her violet eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, come now, Ei. I'm merely curious. Since he's a skeleton… well, I just have to wonder." She leaned in closer, her lips curling into a playful smirk.

Momon exhaled through his nonexistent lungs. "I'm not here for a quick rinse after battle, Miko. This is a hot spring. And it became a public hot spring the moment you two walked in," he stated matter-of-factly, folding his arms across his chest.

"You're avoiding my question, Momon." Miko smirked and reached up, placing a delicate finger under his chin.

Ei watched their exchange with quiet contemplation. She had noticed Miko's relentless teasing since the beginning, her lingering touches, her sultry tone. It was… unusual. Why was she acting this way around Momon? Was it simply her usual playful nature, or was there something more?

Ei herself found Momon intriguing—his existence, his power, the enigma that surrounded him. He defied the very logic of their world. Yet Miko… she was behaving as though she were weaving an intricate game, a slow, deliberate seduction.

Momon, however, had grown tired of the charade.

In one swift movement, his large skeletal hand descended and grasped Miko's plump rear, his bony fingers sinking into her soft flesh with an audible squeeze.

The reaction was immediate.

Miko's body tensed, her breath catching in her throat as a rush of heat flooded her face. A rare moment of genuine surprise flickered across her features before she parted her lips in a sultry, breathless laugh.

"Oh my~," she exhaled, biting her lower lip. "Momon… getting aggressive now, are we?"

A flicker of amusement shone in his crimson eyes. "Well, I suppose you're in heat," he said, his voice low, deliberate.

Before Miko could offer another teasing remark, Momon pulled her onto his lap with ease, his grip on her firm. The water sloshed around them as her body pressed against his, her damp towel barely acting as a barrier between them.

Miko, always one to take the offensive, leaned in and claimed his lips without hesitation.

She had expected the sensation of bone—the cold, rigid touch of teeth against her own. But instead, what she felt was… flesh.

Her violet eyes widened slightly mid-kiss before she pulled back, staring at him in confusion.

"Momon… what was that?"

"That," he said calmly, "is an invisible skin."

Miko blinked, her fingers instinctively moving to touch his chest again. And this time, she felt it—smooth, firm, warm skin.

Her mind reeled. This entire time…?

Slowly, a smirk curled on her lips. Her suspicions had been correct. Momon's body was not just a skeleton. No, he had the perfect body, hidden beneath an illusion.

And now… she was even more interested.

Ei sat in the steaming water, her usually composed expression betraying her inner turmoil. Her violet eyes flickered between Miko and Momon, watching as the playful fox-eared woman teased and touched him with an almost predatory delight. Miko's soft laughter filled the air, blending with the gentle bubbling of the hot spring, yet to Ei, it sounded distant—muffled beneath the weight of her own hesitations.

She had always been someone who observed first, acted later. A ruler, a god, a warrior—never one to indulge in frivolous matters. And yet, as she watched Miko trace her fingers across Momon's skeletal chest, Ei felt a strange pang within her. It wasn't jealousy, was it? No… but there was something unfamiliar, something foreign blooming within her.

Momon, for his part, seemed entirely unaffected by Miko's blatant teasing. His deep, otherworldly voice carried a note of bemusement, but he did not push her away. He entertained her games, answering her questions with an air of indifference, as if he had encountered this kind of flirtation countless times before. Perhaps he had.

Ei's fingers lightly grazed the surface of the water, the warmth seeping into her skin as she tried to make sense of what she was feeling. She had always been intrigued by Momon, but seeing him in this setting—so relaxed, yet commanding—stirred something deeper. The way he spoke of his power, the way he carried himself without arrogance, yet with undeniable strength… it was captivating.

Still, she felt out of place. Miko had always been bold, unafraid to take what she wanted, to chase pleasure with playful confidence. Ei, on the other hand, had spent centuries in isolation, suppressing emotions she deemed unnecessary. And now, in this moment, she realized she didn't know how to react.

Should she say something? Should she reach out?

Her fingers curled into a soft fist beneath the water. She could feel her heart—or whatever she had in place of one—beating a little faster.

"Fufu~ if you have invisible skin, that means there is something down there beneath the towel.

Miko removed his towel from his waist only to be shocked at how massive his thing was. "My, my~ I wonder why a skeleton like you has a genitalia?"

"You are not the first lustful woman I have encountered in my journey, you know." said Momon.

"To be honest I am not surprised. You really are something else…" Miko kissed Momon again while stroking. "Mmm, this is way better than any sexual part of any Light Novel I have read or written."

Miko turned to her friend, a knowing smirk dancing on her lips. "Ei, you're awfully quiet over there," she purred. "Are you just going to sit and watch, or do you want to join in?"

Ei's breath caught in her throat.

Momon's gaze flickered toward her, his glowing red dots unreadable beneath the shadows cast by the steam. "You don't have to force yourself, Ei," he said calmly. "Miko just enjoys testing people's limits."

Miko giggled, resting her chin on Momon's shoulder. "Oh, I do love a challenge. But Ei, darling, I'm sure you must be at least a little curious~."

Ei swallowed. Was she?

Her grip on her own emotions was slipping, and for the first time in a long while, she wasn't sure if she minded.

Momon shifted uncomfortably in the hot spring, his glowing crimson eyes narrowing slightly. This strange, intimate scenario—was something he found completely out of his depth.

"You know what," he said, his voice deep and unwavering, though tinged with an unusual stiffness. "Let's just stop doing this. This is getting too weird."

He moved to rise, intending to put some distance between himself and Miko's teasing, but before he could take another step, he felt a sudden tug on his arm.

Warmth.

Soft hands grasped him with a surprising firmness. He barely had time to react before Ei—silent, reserved Ei—pulled him toward her. In an instant, her lips met his.

Momon froze.

For a moment, the world around them seemed to slow. The gentle bubbling of the hot spring, the distant rustling of wind against the trees, the heat pressing against his unseen skin—all of it became background noise compared to the sensation of Ei's lips against his own.

She was hesitant at first, her movements careful, as if testing unfamiliar waters. But then, with a slow inhale, she pressed closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her grip tightened slightly, as if anchoring herself to him, afraid he might pull away.

Miko, who had been watching with amused interest, let out a delighted laugh. "Oh my, Ei~! I didn't expect you to be so bold." She leaned on the edge of the spring, one elbow resting lazily on the smooth rock as she observed the unfolding scene. "You're getting greedy now, Ei."

Ei ignored her.

Her eyes remained shut, her heart pounding in her chest like a war drum. She wasn't sure what had come over her. Perhaps it was Miko's relentless teasing, or maybe it was the way Momon carried himself—so powerful yet untouchable, an enigma she found herself drawn to. Or perhaps, deep down, she had always been curious but had lacked the courage to act.

But now, with her lips pressed to "his", she wasn't thinking about the consequences.

Momon finally moved.

He didn't push her away, but instead, his skeletal hands—still shrouded in the illusion of invisible skin—gently rested on her waist. He didn't reciprocate with the same hunger as she did, but he didn't reject her either. It was clear he wasn't used to this kind of intimacy, but he allowed her to continue, his touch neither cold nor warm, but firm.

After a moment that felt like an eternity, Ei pulled away slightly, her face just inches from his. Her violet eyes flickered with a mixture of emotions—uncertainty, excitement, and something deeper, something she wasn't ready to name.

Momon exhaled slowly, his glowing eyes locked onto hers. "Ei… what was that about?" His tone wasn't reprimanding, nor was it encouraging. It was simply… confused.

Ei swallowed, trying to find her voice. "I just… wanted to know," she admitted softly.

Miko, clearly enjoying the spectacle, let out a small chuckle. "Oh, Ei, you're adorable. I knew you had it in you~."

"You girls have gone totally off the line," Momon said, his deep, resonant voice carrying a hint of dry humor. "And at this point, I'm not going to back down."

With a wave of his hand, he uttered the incantation, "[Create Greater Item]." The air shimmered momentarily, and out of thin air, a luxurious bed materialized. It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its frame adorned with intricate carvings and its surface covered in soft, plush fabrics that seemed to glow in the warm light of the hot spring.

Momon's movements were swift and deliberate. He reached out, his skeletal hands surprisingly gentle yet firm as he grabbed both Ei and Miko. Before they could react, he lifted them effortlessly and tossed them onto the bed. The two women landed with a soft thud, their expressions a mix of surprise and amusement.

Miko's laughter was light and melodic, her fox-like eyes glinting with mischief as she propped herself up on her elbows. "My, oh my~ This is getting very romantic, and I can't wait," she said, her tone dripping with playful anticipation.

Momon stepped closer, his skeletal form towering over them as he leaned down, his voice calm but carrying a hint of something more. "You've both been pushing my limits all evening. Now it's my turn to take control."

The atmosphere in the room shifted, the playful banter giving way to something more intimate. The steam from the hot spring swirled around them, creating a hazy, dreamlike environment that seemed to heighten the tension in the air. The soft glow of the lanterns cast a warm, golden light over the scene, their flickering flames adding to the sense of anticipation.

Miko's smile was radiant, her playful demeanor undiminished as she reached out to Momon, her fingers brushing against his skeletal hand. "Well, don't keep us waiting, Momon. We're all ears… and more."

Ei, though initially hesitant, found herself drawn into the moment. Her violet eyes met Momon's hollow gaze, her expression softening as she reached out to him, her touch gentle but filled with a quiet intensity. "Momon…" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

And so it began. The three of them came together in a moment of passion and intimacy, their connection deepening as the night wore on. The bed, created by Momon's magic, became a sanctuary of their own, a place where the boundaries between them blurred and the world outside ceased to exist.

The steam from the hot spring continued to rise, swirling around them like a gentle embrace as they lost themselves in each other. The soft glow of the lanterns cast a warm, golden light over the scene, their flickering flames adding to the sense of intimacy and connection.

As the night deepened, the sounds of their passion filled the room, a symphony of whispered words, soft laughter, and quiet moans.

Snezhnaya

The grand room in Snezhnaya was a somber and eerie place, lit only by the flickering glow of countless candles. Their flames cast long, dancing shadows across the cold stone walls, creating an atmosphere that was both solemn and unsettling. The air was heavy with the scent of wax and something darker—something metallic and faintly acrid, like the lingering tang of blood. At the center of the room stood six tables, each bearing the lifeless body of an astrologist. These were no ordinary corpses; their deaths had been anything but natural.

Pierro, the Director of the Fatui, stood before the tables, his tall, imposing figure cloaked in dark robes that seemed to absorb the candlelight. His masked face gave nothing away, but the tension in his posture and the sharp glint in his visible eye betrayed his anger and frustration. He moved slowly from one table to the next, his boots echoing softly against the stone floor as he examined the gruesome remains.

The first body belonged to a man whose head had been utterly obliterated. What remained of his skull was a shattered, unrecognizable mess, as if some immense force had exploded from within. The second body was a charred skeleton, its bones blackened and brittle, the flesh completely incinerated. The third was a woman, her face frozen in a mask of agony, her eyes, mouth, nose, and ears crusted with dried blood that had poured out in a horrific torrent. The other three bodies were no less horrifying—one had been twisted into an unnatural contortion, another had been reduced to a puddle of liquefied flesh, and the last appeared to have aged centuries in moments, her body withered and desiccated.

Pierro's gloved hand clenched into a fist as he stared down at the remains. "How… is this even possible?" he muttered, his voice low and gravelly, carrying a note of disbelief. The astrologists had been in Snezhnaya, safely within the walls of the Fatui's stronghold, when they had attempted to spy on the battle between the Electro Archon and the Honorary Knight. They had been using their specialized Divination magic to observe the conflict from afar, a technique that should have been untraceable and risk-free. And yet, here they were—dead, their bodies mutilated in ways that defied explanation.

One of the Fatui agents standing nearby, a nervous-looking man with a clipboard, cleared his throat. "Lord Pierro, we've examined the bodies thoroughly. There's no sign of external intervention. No weapons, no toxins, no traces of elemental energy. It's as if… as if their own magic turned against them."

Pierro's visible eye narrowed, his mind racing. "Their own magic… turned against them?" he repeated, his tone icy. "Explain."

The agent hesitated, clearly uneasy. "It's just a theory, my lord, but… it's possible that whatever they were observing had some kind of countermeasure. Something that not only detected their intrusion but retaliated with overwhelming force. The nature of their deaths suggests that their magic was somehow… reversed, or corrupted."

Pierro's jaw tightened beneath his mask. He turned back to the bodies, his gaze lingering on the woman whose face was frozen in agony. "The Honorary Knight," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Momon. He was the one they were observing. If what you're saying is true, then he not only detected their magic but destroyed them from thousands of miles away."

The room fell silent, the weight of Pierro's words hanging heavy in the air. The other Fatui agents exchanged uneasy glances, their fear palpable. The idea that someone could retaliate with such precision and brutality, across such a vast distance, was almost incomprehensible.

Pierro straightened, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "This changes everything. If Momon possesses this level of power, then he is far more dangerous than we anticipated. We cannot afford to underestimate him."

One of the agents, a woman with sharp features and a cold demeanor, stepped forward. "My lord, what are your orders? Do we continue our surveillance of him?"

Pierro's visible eye gleamed with a dangerous intensity. "No. For now, we pull back. We observe from a distance, but we do not engage. Not until we understand the full extent of his abilities. And we must inform Her Majesty the Tsaritsa immediately. She needs to know what we're dealing with."

The agents nodded, their expressions grim. As they began to disperse, Pierro remained by the tables, his gaze fixed on the bodies. His mind was racing, piecing together what little information they had. The Honorary Knight was no mere adventurer—he was a force of nature, a being whose power defied comprehension. And if he could do this to their astrologists, what else was he capable of?

The candles flickered, their light casting long shadows across the room. Pierro's gloved hand rested on the edge of one of the tables, his fingers brushing against the cold, lifeless hand of the woman who had died in agony. "Momon," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Who are you… and what do you want?"

The flickering candlelight barely reached the farthest corners of the grand chamber, leaving parts of the room swallowed in darkness. The air was thick with the iron scent of blood, mingling with the cold bite of Snezhnaya's relentless winter that seeped through the stone walls. The six lifeless bodies remained undisturbed, their contorted forms a grotesque testament to their final, agonizing moments.

A heavy silence loomed as Pierro stood at the head of the room, his calculating gaze fixed upon the corpses. Behind his mask, his mind worked tirelessly to unravel the impossible.

Then, from the farthest shadows of the chamber, a soft, lilting voice broke the silence.

"You look very uncomfortable, Pierro."

The voice was gentle, almost sweet, yet it carried an eerie undertone—like the quiet hum of a lullaby before an inevitable nightmare.

From the abyss of darkness, a figure emerged with an almost ethereal grace. She was a young woman, her porcelain skin appearing almost ghostly under the dim light. Long black hair cascaded past her shoulders, streaked with dark pink and magenta highlights, intricately tied into two side plaits with an X-shaped white ribbon. At the back of her head, several white feather-like ornaments, reminiscent of dove wings, swayed gently with her movements.

She was draped in an elegant yet unsettling white garment, her form adorned with delicate lace and ribbons that contrasted starkly against the macabre scene before her. Most haunting of all was her mask—a lace covering shaped like an 'X,' concealing her seemingly always-closed eyes.

Pierro's gaze did not waver, but there was a subtle shift in his posture as he acknowledged her presence.

"Columbina," he spoke, his voice steady but measured.

The woman known as the Third of the Fatui Harbingers, Damselette, let out a small, melodic hum as she took a few slow steps forward, the soft click of her heels barely audible over the crackling of the candle flames. She tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into a delicate, unreadable smile.

"Do you fear me, dear Director?" Columbina asked, placing a pale hand over her chest in mock concern. "You look as though you've seen a phantom."

Pierro exhaled through his nose, unimpressed by her theatrics. "Do not be ridiculous. Of course not."

Columbina giggled, the sound airy yet unnatural, like a songbird mimicking human laughter.

Pierro, unwilling to entertain her games any further, gestured toward the six corpses. "Then perhaps you would care to explain this."

Columbina's expression did not change, but she slowly turned her head towards the bodies. She observed them with a detached curiosity, as if she were admiring a piece of art rather than the remnants of six slaughtered individuals.

"Ah…" she sighed, clasping her hands together. "It is very unfortunate to lose such valuable astrologers in the line of duty."

Pierro's eyes narrowed. He knew she did not care. Not truly. Columbina's words were empty pleasantries, spoken simply for the sake of performance.

"Do you have any idea how this could have happened?" he pressed.

Columbina placed a delicate finger against her lips, as though in deep thought. Then, she sighed in a slow, almost wistful manner.

"Not really," she admitted. "But..." A small, knowing smile curled at the edges of her lips. "This Honorary Knight... Momon... he has piqued my interest."

Pierro did not react immediately. He had expected her to say something like that.

"And what of it?" he asked.

Columbina took another step forward, now standing beside one of the corpses. Her fingers traced the edge of the obsidian table, her touch unnervingly gentle.

"From what I've heard," she mused, "his power... it does not belong to Teyvat. It is something else entirely. A completely different system of magic, one that does not adhere to the principles of this world."

Pierro inhaled sharply. That much he had begun to suspect himself.

"We have no time for what piques your interest, Columbina," he said coldly. "We have our hands full as it is."

Columbina let out another small, musical laugh. "Oh, but dear Director," she cooed, "a completely different system of power… doesn't that intrigue you even slightly?"

She paused, letting her words settle in the air like a creeping fog. Then, her voice dropped to a whisper—soft, but chilling.

"Momon is either a long-forgotten god from ancient times…" she tilted her head slightly, "or..." her smile widened just a fraction, "a Descender."

The moment the word left her lips, a thick silence filled the chamber.

Pierro's thoughts came to an abrupt halt. A Descender. The mere suggestion sent ripples through his mind. His gaze darkened, his fingers curling behind his back as he processed the weight of her words.

The Fatui knew of only four Descenders.

The first was the Traveler, the one who had arrived in Teyvat from beyond the stars. But if Momon truly wielded power foreign to this world… could it be possible that he, too, did not belong to Teyvat?

Pierro's mind raced with calculations, possible contingencies, and threats. If Momon was indeed a Descender, then his very existence disrupted the delicate balance of Teyvat. He was an anomaly, a wild card—one that could either be a great asset or a catastrophic adversary.

Columbina observed him in silence, her expression unreadable. But there was something in the way she lingered—something knowing.

Finally, Pierro spoke. His voice was cold and resolute.

"Find out everything." His gaze burned with determination. "No matter the cost, I want to know exactly what Momon is."

Columbina smiled sweetly, tilting her head as if listening to a distant melody only she could hear.

"As you wish, dear Director," she murmured.

And with that, the shadows seemed to stretch around her, and in a blink, she was gone—leaving Pierro alone in the cold, standing among the dead, lost in the weight of a terrible realization.

Chapter Text

The first light of dawn crept through the delicate paper windows of the lavishly adorned chamber, casting soft golden hues over the disheveled silken sheets. The air was thick with the lingering warmth of passion, a quiet testament to the hours of indulgence that had passed.

Miko stirred slightly, the steady rise and fall of her chest betraying the exhaustion that had finally claimed her. Strands of her lustrous pink hair clung to her flushed skin, her usually immaculate appearance now undone in a way that was unfamiliar yet strangely satisfying.

She had always prided herself on control—on teasing, on orchestrating moments to her liking, on never truly being swept away. And yet, tonight… tonight had been different. Never in her long life had she imagined that she would surrender to something so primal, so intoxicating, so utterly unpredictable. And what was even more surprising… was bringing Ei into it.

Miko opened her eyes thinking she would also see Ei asleep and tired as her but surprisingly that was not the case. Not at all…

"Ah~"

She saw Momon lying in bed and there was Ei bouncing on his thing. Miko was amused to see this side of Ei. Way more pleasant than her cold nature. Turns out the quiet ones are more horny. Truly the arrival of Momon in Inazuma was a blessing for the whole nation, herself, and her best friend.

"You two never stopped all night, hmm~," said Miko while getting up.

She crawled onto the bed and then hugged Ei kissing her on the lips.

"Miko– this feels so good~!" said as they kissed deeply with their tongue.

"Mm~ how sweet~" she purred, her voice laced with mischief as she gazed at him with smoldering purple eyes.

Before Momon could respond, Ei moved first. She suddenly pressed herself against him, wrapping her arms around his frame as her lips met his in a deep, possessive kiss. Her long violet locks cascaded over them both, strands damp from the steam-filled room.

"No, Miko, he's mine right now," she murmured between breaths, tightening her hold as if unwilling to let him slip away so easily.

Miko let out a melodious chuckle, resting her chin on her hand as she tilted her head in amusement. "How greedy of you, Ei~" she teased. "You weren't this bold last night… but I suppose even the Electro Archon can become enlightened under the right circumstances."

Momon exhaled a sigh—though it was more out of exasperation than exhaustion. The night had certainly been… an experience. But now?

"You two…" He shook his head before placing a firm hand on Ei's shoulder, gently pushing her away. "We have to get out of this hot spring. Go get dressed—that Mizuki won't be pleased when she finds the mess we've made here."

But neither of them moved. Instead, they exchanged playful glances before turning their attention back to him.

Before he could react, they both leaned in, pressing their soft lips against his jaw in perfect synchrony.

Momon let out another sigh, this time heavier.

"Enough of this," he muttered.

With a sudden shift, he maneuvered them both, pressing Ei aside before toppling Miko onto the bed. A surprised laugh escaped her lips as she fell back, only for Ei to collapse beside her, their bodies entwining as if drawn together by an unseen force.

Miko's melodic giggle echoed in the chamber. "Haha~" she hummed, pulling Ei close into an embrace before running her fingers along her cheek. Then, in an unexpected moment of mischief, she leaned in, capturing Ei's lips with her own in a lingering, teasing kiss.

Ei's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she let herself be drawn into the moment, her hands gripping Miko's wrists as she surrendered—for just a fleeting second.

Momon watched them with a measured gaze, arms crossed as he took in the sight before him. The two women before him were proving to be some of the most unpredictable forces he had encountered.

"You two are… very close friends…" he remarked dryly, shaking his head.

Miko, still cradling Ei in her arms, smirked. "Oh, Momon, you say that as if last night didn't change everything~"

Momon said nothing. He simply stood up from the bed, rolling his shoulders before activating his skill.

In an instant, his skeletal form was engulfed in an eerie glow, and his armor reformed around him. The jet-black plating and hooded cape returned, shrouding him in his usual aura of mystery and dominance.

Miko pouted slightly. "Must you cover up so soon? What a shame~"

"This was already getting out of hand," Momon stated firmly. "Don't you two have any work to do?"

Ei sighed, stretching as she slowly sat up, her long hair draping over her bare shoulders. "You're right," she admitted. Though her voice was composed, there was a certain softness to her demeanor—a quiet reluctance, a lingering warmth that had not been there before.

She reached for the towel, wrapping it around her body before stepping closer to him. Momon watched her approach, noticing the faintest hint of pink dusting her cheeks.

She was embarrassed.

For the first time in a long, long while, the mighty Raiden Ei was… flustered.

Momon's crimson gaze softened for a brief moment before he reached out, his gauntleted fingers gently brushing against her cheek. Ei stiffened slightly but did not pull away.

Then, he kissed her.

It was not demanding. Not possessive. Just… gentle.

Ei's breath hitched, and for a split second, her grip on the towel tightened.

But she didn't resist.

Instead, she closed her eyes, allowing herself to bask in the sensation, the warmth of his lips against hers, the way her heartbeat quickened despite her best efforts to remain composed.

When he pulled away, she remained still, her expression unreadable.

Then, ever so slightly, her lips curved into a rare, genuine smile.

Saying nothing more, she turned and left, making her way toward the changing area to prepare for their departure.

Momon watched her go before glancing back at Miko.

Still lounging on the bed, she stretched with a lazy grin, her fox-like eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Mmm~ we really should have done more, don't you think?" she mused playfully.

Momon narrowed his crimson dots at her.

Miko simply laughed.

"Well then, dear knight, I suppose we'll just have to continue another time~"

Momon stepped out of the Aisa Bathhouse, his imposing frame shrouded once more in his signature dark armor and flowing cape. The morning air was crisp, carrying the fresh scent of damp stone and lingering steam from the hot springs. Beneath his mask, his expression remained unreadable, his crimson dots scanning his surroundings with calculated calm.

Standing just outside the entrance, Mizuki, the proprietor of the bathhouse, bowed deeply at the sight of him, her hands pressed together in a show of respect. Her long, dark hair was styled immaculately, and her elegant kimono bore the golden emblem of the Aisa Bathhouse—a mark of refined hospitality.

"Thank you for gracing our humble establishment, Lord Momon," she said with a warm, professional smile. "I hope your time here was to your satisfaction."

Momon gave a small nod, his deep voice steady yet polite. "It was amazing, and I apologize for staying there all night. I hope I did not cause any inconvenience."

Mizuki straightened, shaking her head with a gentle chuckle. "Please don't say such things. If anything, I should apologize for failing to keep Lady Miko from invading your personal space… but with the Archon herself at her side, it would have been impossible to intervene."

Momon exhaled, amused by the subtle exhaustion in her voice. "It's alright, I understand," he said, his tone carrying the weight of experience—an understanding that some forces, like Miko, were simply beyond control.

At that moment, Mizuki quickly bowed her head once more as two more figures emerged from the misty warmth of the bathhouse.

Miko stepped out first, her long, lustrous pink hair cascading down her back like flowing silk. She was dressed in a deep violet kimono adorned with intricate sakura petal embroidery, a teasing smirk playing on her lips as she cast a knowing glance at Momon.

Trailing just behind her was Ei, radiating a different kind of presence—composed, yet strikingly regal. Her dark purple hair was neatly arranged, and her sleeveless kimono was decorated with lightning motifs, a subtle nod to her divine nature. Her amethyst gaze flickered toward the gathering crowd with quiet contemplation, though she said nothing.

"Ara, Mizuki~" Miko cooed, her voice rich with amusement. "Thank you ever so much for your hospitality. I must say, we had a truly wonderful time last night."

Mizuki folded her hands neatly, nodding. "I'm pleased to hear that, Miko."

As they spoke, murmurs from the streets began to ripple through the air like waves upon a still pond.

The people of Inazuma had begun to take notice.

For a moment, there was only hushed whispering—curious eyes peeking from around corners, hesitant glances exchanged between merchants and passersby. But soon, the whispers gave way to bolder movement, and the crowd began to grow.

The Electro Archon, the Grand Narukami Shrine's High Priestess, and the enigmatic Honorary Knight—all standing before the Aisa Bathhouse? It was a sight no one had expected to see.

A ripple of excitement passed through the crowd, and soon, more people began gathering, eager to witness the occasion.

Mizuki, watching the scene unfold, smiled ever so slightly.

Her plan had worked.

This was exactly what she had intended.

The Aisa Bathhouse, though already an esteemed establishment, had now gained a new kind of prestige. With three of the most revered figures in Inazuma publicly seen here, interest in the bathhouse would skyrocket. Nobles, merchants, travelers—anyone with the means would want to experience the very same luxury enjoyed by such prominent guests.

A few particularly eager citizens were already approaching, peering toward the entrance as if considering stepping inside. Mizuki turned her attention back to Momon, her expression unreadable but tinged with satisfaction.

With the crowd still growing, he turned to Ei and Miko. "We should leave before this gathering turns into something more troublesome."

Ei, who had been quietly observing the people, nodded in agreement. "Yes. The last thing we need is a full-scale event forming around us."

Miko, on the other hand, let out a playful sigh. "Oh, but wouldn't it be fun to let the people admire us a little longer?" She shot a sideways glance at Momon, tilting her head. "Though I suppose you aren't one for public adoration~"

Momon ignored her teasing and turned, beginning to walk toward the main road. Ei followed closely behind, her presence a silent command for the gathering citizens to remain respectful.

Miko, ever the mischievous one, gave Mizuki a knowing wink before trailing after them.

Mizuki watched them go, then turned back to her staff, already issuing quiet instructions. Within minutes, attendants were guiding the newly gathered patrons inside, eager to capitalize on the opportunity.

As they walked down the paved road, the distant sounds of the city murmured around them—street vendors calling out their wares, the rhythmic clatter of footsteps on stone, and the gentle rustling of banners swaying in the breeze. The sky above was painted in soft hues of violet and amber, a reminder that morning had fully settled in.

After a short distance, Momon came to a halt. Ei and Miko, walking beside him, also stopped, their gazes turning toward him with quiet curiosity.

"Momon," Ei spoke first, her voice as serene as ever, yet carrying an underlying tone of duty. "I must return to Tenshukaku for now. There are matters I must attend to."

Momon gave a slight nod, understanding the weight of responsibility that came with being the ruler of Inazuma. "Very well, Ei."

She hesitated for a moment before asking, "Are you leaving Inazuma soon?"

Momon crossed his arms beneath his cape, considering his next move. "I believe that's correct, but before I do, I need to speak with Aether about our next destination."

Ei lowered her gaze slightly as if processing his words. "I see…" she murmured, a faint hint of something unspoken in her tone.

Miko, ever perceptive, let out a playful sigh before leaning in toward Momon. "Aww~ you've gone and made Ei sad, Momon." She tapped a manicured finger against her cheek, her teasing smile as mischievous as ever.

Momon shook his head. "I'm not leaving forever. I'll return to visit you both again, so there's no need to make a big deal out of this." His golden eyes softened slightly behind his mask as he added, "This is not a farewell—just a temporary parting."

Ei looked up at him then, her violet eyes shimmering like polished amethyst under the morning light. "Then I will be waiting," she said, her voice warm, carrying a sincerity that was rare from her.

Miko, on the other hand, leaned in closer, her fox-like smile widening. "I'll be waiting too, but impatiently, Momon~" Her tone was rich with amusement, though there was something deeper beneath the playfulness—an unspoken promise of future encounters.

Momon exhaled lightly, realizing that no matter how long he stayed in Inazuma, these two would always find a way to draw him back. "Until next time," he said simply.

Ei gave him one last lingering glance before turning away, her movements as graceful as a falling petal. Miko trailed behind her, but not before giving Momon a final smirk, her tails swaying lightly with each step. Together, they walked toward the towering palace of Tenshukaku, their figures gradually fading into the crowd.

Momon watched them for a moment before turning his attention elsewhere.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted two familiar figures near a traditional-looking building nestled between the bustling streets—Komore Teahouse.

Aether and Paimon.

Without hesitation, he adjusted his cloak and made his way toward them.

His eyes, hidden behind the darkness of his mask, observed the scene before him. Aether stood among familiar faces—Ayaka, Thoma, as well as a few strangers who stood out in their own unique ways.

The first was a girl of medium height, her pale skin stark against the mask covering the lower half of her face. Her light green hair framed her narrow reddish-violet eyes, which were sharp and observant despite the veil of mystery surrounding her.

The second individual, however, was far stranger.

A man, almost as tall as himself, standing at around 1.92 meters, just a few centimeters shorter than Momon. His wild white hair, streaked with pale red, cascaded down his back in chaotic waves. His eyes burned with a faded red-to-yellow gradient, their diamond-shaped pupils gleaming with mischief. Two pointed red horns jutted from his forehead, complementing the red markings painted across his face, arms, and body.

The loudest among them, this horned man had an infectious energy, filling the space with boisterous laughter as he exchanged jokes with Aether and Thoma.

Momon silently observed how easily Aether integrated himself into different groups. He could befriend warriors, nobles, outcasts, and strangers alike with a natural ease that Momon himself lacked. It was an admirable, yet foreign trait to him. He was not like Aether. He never would be.

As he stepped forward, his presence did what it always did—it drained the warmth from the air.

Aether was the first to notice him, turning with a friendly wave. "Momon!"

Instantly, the lively conversation came to a halt. The group turned to face him, their expressions shifting from joy to uncertainty.

Even though they couldn't see his face, his aura was enough. A silent, cold weight that pressed upon them, like the shadow of an unshakable force.

Paimon, floating beside Aether, broke the silence first. "Finally, you showed up, Momon!" she said, her voice slightly nervous. "You stayed at the Aisa Bathhouse all night!"

Momon's gaze flicked to her. "Yeah, what about it?"

Paimon tensed slightly. "Ehehe, nothing! I just thought you must have enjoyed the hot spring a lot!" she blurted, laughing awkwardly.

Aether smiled knowingly but said nothing, watching as Momon remained unreadable.

Paimon always had to think twice before speaking to Momon. Unlike Aether, who carried a natural warmth, Momon's presence was as still and unreadable as a frozen abyss. One misstep in conversation, and she never knew if she had said something wrong.

The horned man, previously loud and unbothered, finally broke the tension.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold up a second! Who's this guy?!" The stranger leaned forward, examining Momon with an exaggerated squint.

Thoma cleared his throat, attempting to ease the atmosphere. "Uh, Itto, this is—"

"The legendary Arataki 'The One and Oni' Itto doesn't need an introduction!" the man interrupted, pointing at himself with his thumb before dramatically flipping his hair back.

He then pointed at Momon. "But YOU, my friend, are a mystery! What's with the getup? The mask? The whole 'dark and brooding' thing? You some kinda secret boss fight waiting to happen?!"

Momon simply stared at him, silent.

Itto blinked. The lack of reaction made him hesitate for a split second, but he quickly recovered. "Alright, alright, you're the quiet type. I get it! We got one of those in our gang too! So, what do they call ya, spooky guy?"

Aether, trying not to laugh, finally stepped in. "Itto, this is Momon. He's… well, let's just say he's not exactly a regular traveler like me."

Momon sighed, finally addressing Itto. "I am not a 'spooky guy.' I simply do not waste time on unnecessary things."

Itto's grin widened. "Hah! Unnecessary things? Buddy, you're talking to the king of unnecessary! So, what, you don't like fun? Laughing? Good food? Arm-wrestling contests? Because let me tell you," he flexed, "I am undefeated!"

Momon remained silent for a moment before saying flatly, "I don't eat."

Dead silence.

Itto's jaw dropped. "Wait—you don't eat?!"

Ayaka, who had been quiet until now, stepped forward gracefully. "Momon, it is good to see you again." She gave a respectful bow. "You seem well. I trust your time in Inazuma has been… interesting?"

"Absolutely," said Momon.

Miko and Ei's antics had been… far more than he had expected.

Before Ayaka could reply, Itto dramatically pointed at Momon again. "Wait, wait, wait! Hold up—what do you mean you 'don't eat'?! What kinda life are you living, man?! That's tragic!"

Momon turned to Aether, his crimson-red eyes gleaming faintly beneath his dark mask. He ignored the loud presence beside him as though he weren't even there. "Who's man is this?" he asked, his voice even and composed, yet carrying a weight of authority that made Aether stand a little straighter.

Aether sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before replying, "We just met this morning. He's friends with Thoma." There was an exasperation in his voice as if he had already spent too much time dealing with the excitable oni's antics.

Before Momon could respond, a loud yelp of pain cut through the air.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch! Shinobu! Sorry, sorry—come on, not the ear!"

Momon turned his head just in time to see the wild-haired oni, Arataki Itto, being pulled down by the masked young woman gripping his ear between her fingers with practiced ease. Despite the oni's size and strength, he was practically doubled over, wincing as the woman dragged him to a halt. Her presence exuded both authority and weariness, as if she had done this a hundred times before.

"Itto, stop causing trouble for once!" she scolded, her voice sharp but not unkind. "Do you even realize who you're talking to? That man right there—he's the reason you got your Vision back!"

Itto, still rubbing his sore ear, blinked in surprise before his eyes went wide. "Wait, hold up—FOR REAL? On God?! No way!" His shock was so genuine that it was almost comical, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at Momon as if seeing him for the first time.

The masked girl—Shinobu—sighed heavily before releasing him and straightening her posture. She turned to Momon, bowing her head slightly in apology. "Forgive us for disturbing you, Sir Momon. Our boss here just got out of prison last night, and, well… he had no idea who fought the Raiden Shogun." Her tone was respectful but tinged with exhaustion, as if she was all too familiar with the chaos that followed Itto wherever he went.

Momon regarded her silently for a moment before finally speaking. His tone, while calm, held a slight amusement beneath its usual indifference. "No problem at all. I was just surprised by how lively he is… unlike me."

The statement was simple, but it carried a strange weight to it, as though it held a deeper meaning beyond just personality differences. Shinobu gave a small, knowing nod, while Itto, seemingly oblivious, grinned broadly.

"Wait, wait, wait—so you're tellin' me this guy fought the Raiden Shogun and won?!" Itto gestured wildly toward Momon, his excitement only growing. "That's insane, bro! No way! You must be crazy strong! What kinda training do you do? Do you lift mountains? Punch through boulders? Wait—don't tell me—you train by wrestling bears, right?!"

Shinobu shook her head, already foreseeing the trouble that would come from Itto getting too comfortable. "Boss, let's not push our luck today. Sir Momon has far more important things to do than listen to your nonsense."

Itto huffed. "Tch. You say 'nonsense,' I say 'fun times!'"

As the group stood there, Itto suddenly threw an arm around Momon's shoulder with his signature grin, his sharp teeth flashing.

"Hey, Momon! I just had the most genius idea! How about you join our gang? The Arataki Gang! We'd be one hell of a team, don'tcha think?" Itto declared, puffing out his chest with pride.

Shinobu's eyes widened in horror, and without hesitation, she moved to grab Itto by the collar. "Boss! Stop embarrassing yourself!" she hissed, her voice filled with disbelief. She looked like she was debating whether to physically restrain him or just give him a well-deserved beating for saying something so reckless.

Momon, meanwhile, slowly turned his gaze toward the so-called gang. He studied them briefly—the ragtag group of misfits, Itto's carefree and somewhat clueless energy, Shinobu's exasperation at her leader's antics, and the rest of their crew who didn't seem particularly impressive.

"...Uhh, no," Momon stated flatly, his crimson eyes glowing faintly. "Paimon could probably beat you."

A heavy silence followed.

"EH?!" Paimon's high-pitched squeal cut through the air as she flailed her tiny arms. She turned toward Momon with wide, panicked eyes. "H-Hey! What's that supposed to mean?! Are you joking or what?!"

Itto, however, didn't take offense. Instead, he burst into a loud, boisterous laugh that echoed through the area. "PHUUHAHAHA! What's this little flying snowball gonna do? Punch me against a tree?"

Momon, completely deadpan, turned to Paimon.

"Go ahead, Paimon. Do it."

Paimon's wings fluttered anxiously as she pointed at herself. "W-Wait, what?! Momon, you know I can't—"

"HAHAHAHA! Oh, this I gotta see!" Itto clapped his hands together, getting more excited by the second. "Alright then, little lady, gimme your best shot! Right here!" He tapped the side of his face, grinning down at her. "Let's see what you got, snowball!"

Paimon hesitated, her big, round eyes darting between Itto and Momon. Was he serious? Did he really expect her to—?

But then she saw the faintest nod from Momon.

He wasn't joking.

The small floating companion clenched her tiny fists, gulping as she mentally prepared herself. She had no idea what was about to happen, but if Momon was giving her the go-ahead… well, she trusted him.

Unbeknownst to anyone, Momon silently cast five spells in quick succession, layering enchantments onto Paimon's small frame—boosting her physical strength far beyond what anyone in Teyvat could have imagined.

The moment Paimon launched herself forward, the air around her shifted.

Aether barely had time to register what was happening before she struck.

Her tiny fist connected squarely with the left side of Itto's face.

For a split second, there was only stillness.

Then—

BOOM!

A deafening shockwave rippled through the air, kicking up dust and sending leaves flying. The sheer force of the impact sent Itto hurtling backward as if he had been struck by a raging beast rather than a small floating girl. His massive frame crashed into a thick Sakura tree with enough power to shake its branches violently, causing a cascade of petals to rain down.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Everyone's eyes were wide, mouths hanging open in utter disbelief.

No one could comprehend what they had just witnessed.

Paimon hovered there, frozen in place, staring at her own tiny fist as if it were a foreign object. Her body trembled slightly, her expression twisted in confusion and mild horror.

"What the hell…?" she muttered under her breath.

The Arataki Gang scrambled toward their fallen leader, their faces etched with concern.

"Boss!"

"Are you okay?!"

"That was insane!"

Itto groaned as he slowly pulled himself up, rubbing the side of his face where a nasty bruise was already forming. His red eyes darted toward Paimon, filled with shock. "The hell was that?! Man, that hurt a lot!" he complained, shaking his head as if trying to process what had just happened.

Aether cautiously approached Paimon, his brows furrowed. "Paimon… how did you even do that?"

She turned toward him, still staring at her fist as if it belonged to someone else. "I—I have no idea! Oh no, I'm kinda scared now!"

Aether shifted his gaze toward Momon, who stood there with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable behind the mask.

But Aether wasn't an idiot. He knew something was up.

Momon had been the one to insist that Paimon take the punch. Momon had been calm—too calm—right before it happened. And now, standing there with that knowing, eerie silence, he was practically radiating amusement.

Aether narrowed his eyes.

"You did something, didn't you?"

Momon didn't respond. He didn't have to. The faintest flicker of amusement in his glowing crimson eyes told Aether everything he needed to know.

Meanwhile, Itto shook his head, his Oni pride refusing to accept defeat just yet.

"I want a rematch!" he barked, pointing a dramatic finger at Paimon. "There is no way for me to accept defeat like this!"

Before he could even take a step forward, Shinobu swiftly struck him in the back of the head with a sharp chop.

"Shut up, you!" she snapped, her voice carrying the weight of absolute authority.

"Okay." Itto immediately straightened up, his excitement vanishing as he cowered under her glare.

Momon let out the softest, almost imperceptible chuckle.

This had been a rather… entertaining distraction.

After spending a pleasant time at the Komore Teahouse with the Arataki Gang, Thoma, and Ayaka, the trio found themselves back in their usual rhythm—just the three of them, once again adventurers on the road. The lively atmosphere of the teahouse, filled with laughter, friendly banter, and delicious tea, was now just a memory as they stepped into the cool evening air.

The sun had begun its descent, casting an amber glow across the rooftops of Inazuma City. Lanterns flickered to life, illuminating the streets in a soft golden light, while the scent of fresh sea breeze drifted in from the docks. The distant hum of the city's nightlife filled the air—merchants closing up shop, distant voices of samurai on patrol, and the occasional clinking of tea cups from open-air establishments.

Momon, Aether, and Paimon had walked to the outskirts of the city, where the towering walls and sturdy torii gates marked the boundary between urban life and the wilds beyond. The road stretched ahead, leading toward unknown adventures, but before they could continue, there was something Aether needed to address.

"Momon," Aether started, his voice steady yet curious. "Did you actually do something to Paimon back there?" His golden eyes studied Momon with quiet intensity, still searching for an explanation for what had happened earlier.

Paimon, who had been floating along lazily, suddenly jolted upright. "Yeah, yeah! That whole thing was totally crazy! There's no way Paimon is that strong!" She waved her tiny hands frantically, as if trying to shake off the thought. "I mean, sure, I can do a lot of things, but sending a big Oni like Itto flying with one punch? That ain't normal!"

"Yes, Aether, I did," he admitted with a calm nod. "I used a few spells that significantly increased Paimon's strength. Nothing too complicated, just a few well-placed enchantments to enhance her physical capabilities."

Aether sighed, crossing his arms. "I knew it. You were way too confident about it back there. But why didn't you tell us?"

Momon's red eyes glowed faintly under the dim evening light as he tilted his head slightly, amused. "Would it have been as entertaining if you had known?"

Aether groaned, shaking his head. "Unbelievable. So you were just messing with us?"

"I wouldn't say 'messing with you'—more like... experimenting," Momon corrected, his tone playful but holding an undeniable edge of truth. "And come to think of it, I'm actually glad I didn't overdo it."

Paimon blinked. "Huh? What do you mean by that?"

Momon glanced at her, his expression unreadable under the mask. "Well, if I had pushed the enchantments any further… you might have removed that guy's head from his shoulders."

A chilling silence followed.

Paimon's entire body stiffened mid-air, her little wings flapping erratically.

"EEEEEEHHHHH?!" she shrieked, clutching her head with both hands in sheer horror. "That's terrifying! That would've been way too much! If that had actually happened, Paimon wouldn't have slept for days!"

Aether sighed again, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Honestly, I should've expected something like this from you, Momon. You really don't do anything halfway, do you?"

Momon simply shrugged. "Precision is key in everything I do."

Paimon, still shaken, looked down at her tiny hands, curling and uncurling her fingers as if they now carried some hidden destructive power. "Geez… Paimon's never punching anyone ever again… that was way too close!"

Aether, seeing how rattled she was, decided to lighten the mood. He leaned closer with a small smirk. "Well… you were pretty cool, though. Not gonna lie."

Paimon instantly perked up, her wings fluttering as she turned to face him. "Really?! Aww, thank you, Traveler!" Her previous fear seemed to evaporate in an instant, replaced by a proud and smug expression as she folded her arms. "Heheh! I mean, of course Paimon's cool! Did you see that punch? That was a once-in-a-lifetime performance!"

Momon chuckled under his mask, watching the two of them with mild amusement. Their dynamic was always refreshing—Aether, the calm and rational adventurer, and Paimon, the lively and dramatic companion. He had grown used to their playful bickering and found it oddly enjoyable.

Momon, clad in his dark armor and signature mask, turned to Aether. His crimson eyes, veiled behind the ominous helmet, studied the young Traveler. "Anyway," he began, his deep voice cutting through the quiet night, "where do you think we should go now? Do you want to stay here for a while or set out for the next nation?"

Aether crossed his arms in thought, glancing up at the star-filled sky. He had spent a good deal of time in Inazuma, overcoming countless challenges and uncovering secrets that shaped the course of his journey. But now, with the dust settling, the path forward became clear. "I guess we're leaving for Sumeru this time," Aether said, turning back to his companion. "What do you think?"

Momon tilted his head slightly at the mention of the unfamiliar land. "Sumeru, huh…" he mused. "I know next to nothing about it. Just that there's some… academia?" His tone carried a hint of disinterest, as if the mere thought of scholars and libraries did little to intrigue him.

Paimon, ever eager to educate, floated up with an enthusiastic twirl. "Allow me!" she chirped, placing her hands on her hips with a proud expression. "Sumeru is located to the west of Liyue—oh wait, or was it east? Uh… anyway! It's a nation covered in lush jungles and vast deserts! Super unique, right? And about the Academia… uh, well, I'm not that well-informed about them, but I hear they're super smart bookworms!"

Momon let out a slow sigh, his posture betraying his lack of enthusiasm. "A jungle, huh?"

Something in his tone caught Aether's attention. Though his face was hidden behind the mask, the weight in his voice was unmistakable.

Aether narrowed his eyes slightly. "Is there a problem, Momon?"

Momon was silent for a moment before he exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "I hate jungles," he admitted flatly. "They're too humid… too dense. The air is thick, the ground is a mess, and everything is either trying to bite, poison, or drown you."

Paimon blinked, tilting her head. "Wait, wait, wait—this is the first time Paimon's ever heard you complain about anything!" She floated closer, hands on her hips. "So you're telling me you can handle fighting ancient sea gods, staring down Archons, and dealing with crazy Adepti, but a little jungle is what gets under your skin?"

Momon huffed, his arms crossing over his chest. "There's nothing 'little' about a jungle," he muttered. "The terrain is unpredictable, vision is constantly obstructed, and the humidity seeps into everything. It's the perfect place for ambushes, disease, and endless pests. And don't get me started on swamps."

Aether chuckled. "I think I get it now. You just don't like feeling uncomfortable."

Momon gave a short shrug. "Who does?"

Paimon tapped her chin, pretending to be deep in thought. "Huh. So what you're saying is… you'd rather be back in Dragonspine than trekking through a jungle?"

Momon answered immediately. "Absolutely."

Paimon gawked. "But it's freezing there!"

"At least the cold is predictable," Momon replied coolly. "I don't need to worry about stepping on something venomous or being eaten alive by insects. And besides… extreme cold doesn't bother me."

Aether exchanged a knowing glance with Paimon. Momon had revealed very little about himself, but small details like this painted a bigger picture of what kind of being he truly was.

Though his undead skeletal body was immune to the hardships of extreme climates—be it scorching deserts, freezing tundras, or dense jungles—he still had his preferences. Pine forests, with their towering trees, crisp air, and serene silence, were far more to his liking. The tangled mess of humid jungles, however, was another story entirely.

Before they could proceed further, a thought crossed Momon's mind. "Oh, I almost forgot…" he muttered, his crimson eyes narrowing beneath his mask. "I still have to deal with Enkanomiya. Those massive floating islands are still hovering around Watatsumi Island."

Paimon gasped. "Oh yeah! That's right! Those islands are just… floating there like some kinda giant puzzle waiting to crash down on someone's head!" She flailed her tiny arms in exasperation.

Aether chuckled at Paimon's reaction before turning back to Momon. "Right… those are your new 'property,' aren't they?" He smirked slightly. "You're going to be busy handling all that, so how about this—we go ahead to Sumeru first? That way, by the time you're done, we'll already be waiting for you in their main city."

Momon tilted his head slightly. "Are you sure about that?" he asked, his voice carrying an edge of skepticism. "This is an entirely new nation we're talking about, with different rules, different customs… We have no idea how they treat outsiders. There's no guarantee they'll be welcoming."

Aether remained unfazed. "That's nothing new," he said, shrugging. "Mondstadt, Liyue, Inazuma… Every nation we've entered had its own obstacles, and we handled them just fine. Besides," he added, flexing his fingers slightly, "I'm pretty interested in getting my hands on Dendro power."

Momon studied Aether for a moment. The Traveler's confidence wasn't misplaced—he had navigated through far worse situations and always managed to adapt. If anyone could figure out how to survive in an unknown land, it was him.

Finally, Momon gave a slow nod. "Very well," he said. "If you're that certain, then I won't stop you. I'll handle Enkanomiya first, and once I'm done, I'll head to Sumeru to find you."

Paimon grinned, floating up excitedly. "Alrighty then! Paimon's looking forward to checking out Sumeru's food! I hear they've got all sorts of spicy dishes!"

Aether chuckled. "Just don't eat anything too suspicious."

Momon turned his gaze toward the distant ocean, where the silhouette of Watatsumi Island rested beneath the moonlit sky. "I won't take long," he assured them. "Just don't get into too much trouble while I'm gone."

Aether smirked. "No promises."

Paimon huffed. "Hey! That's Paimon's line!"

With that, their paths momentarily diverged—Aether and Paimon setting sail for Sumeru, and Momon turning his attention toward Enkanomiya, ready to handle yet another problem of godly proportions.

Chapter Text

The cold night air carried the scent of the ocean as Momon stood atop a jagged cliff on one of the floating islands of Enkanomiya. Below him, the faint glow of Watatsumi Island shimmered beneath the moonlight, its coral-like landscape bathed in silver hues. The gentle waves of the ocean stretched endlessly toward the horizon, their rhythmic movement a stark contrast to the massive landmasses hovering ominously above them.

The reason Momon chose the dead of night for his work was simple—he did not want witnesses. The citizens of Watatsumi Island had already been shaken by the sudden reappearance of these ancient islands. There was no need to startle them further. When the sun rose in the morning, they would awaken to clear skies, with no trace of the massive floating remnants of Enkanomiya obscuring their view of the heavens.

Momon's crimson eyes flickered behind his mask as he surveyed the islands. There were more than ten in total, with five of them being enormous in size—colossal masses of stone, ruins, and long-forgotten history that had no place lingering so close to civilization.

"Hmm…" He mused, deep in thought. "Where should I move them?"

Leaving them adrift in the middle of the ocean felt pointless. While the vastness of the sea would ensure they remained undisturbed, they would serve no purpose there. Instead, he considered relocating them somewhere more useful—somewhere that could benefit from their presence.

His gaze shifted toward the far west, beyond the endless waters, toward the distant lands of Teyvat. His thoughts lingered on Dragonspine, the frigid mountain that towered over Mondstadt's southern border. Its treacherous landscape and freezing climate made it an ideal natural fortress.

"Yes… that should do," he muttered to himself. "Having these islands close to Dragonspine would be far more beneficial than leaving them scattered across the ocean. A more controlled location is better… especially near my Nazarick Dominion."

With his decision made, Momon removed his gauntlet, exposing the skeletal fingers beneath.

His deep, commanding voice rang through the silent night.

"[Gate]!"

The very fabric of reality trembled as a massive, swirling portal tore open before him. It was not a simple teleportation rift—it was something far more sinister, a void in space itself. The swirling abyss crackled with an eerie energy, warping the very air around it as if the universe itself recoiled from its presence.

The sheer size of the portal was terrifying. It was large enough to swallow even the biggest of the floating islands whole, stretching endlessly into the darkness beyond.

Momon extended his hand once more.

"[Underworld Chains]!"

From the heart of the abyss, enormous chains shot out with blinding speed. Each link was thick as a castle wall, forged from an unearthly black metal that seemed to drink in the moonlight. The chains moved with terrifying precision, as though they were alive, writhing through the air before piercing deep into the floating islands one by one.

The entire landmass beneath Momon's feet trembled as the chains constricted, wrapping around the floating islands like a predator ensnaring its prey. Rocks cracked, debris crumbled, and the very sky seemed to distort under the overwhelming power of the spell.

Slowly, methodically, the chains began their work—pulling each floating island into the swirling void. One by one, the islands vanished, disappearing into the abyss, as though they had never existed. The sky above Watatsumi Island grew clearer with each passing second, the once-ominous shadows cast by the islands fading into nothingness.

Momon remained motionless, watching the process unfold. He knew this was the right decision. Once the islands were safely relocated, they could serve a greater purpose rather than drifting aimlessly over the ocean.

Now, it was time for the island he stood upon.

He turned his skull slightly, casting one last glance at Watatsumi Island and the far-off lands of Inazuma. The familiar sight would soon be nothing but a memory, at least for now.

Without a word, he allowed himself to be pulled into the abyss along with the final island, vanishing into the darkness.

By the time the first rays of dawn kissed the ocean's surface, the people of Watatsumi Island would awaken to find their skies cleared—no looming ruins, no drifting shadows. Just an open, endless sky, as if the floating islands had never existed at all.

And just like that, Momon had left Inazuma—his presence now shifting toward a greater purpose elsewhere in the world.

A massive warship, its dark hull cutting through the moonlit waters, sailed in eerie silence along Mondstadt's distant coastline. The vessel bore the unmistakable insignia of the Fatui, a looming shadow upon the sea. Its movement was calculated, careful to stay beyond the sight of the Knights of Favonius and—more importantly—far from the reach of the unknown force that had seized control of Dragonspine and the archipelago of Guyun Stone Forest.

The Fatui had long prided themselves on their intelligence network, but even they were in the dark about the entity known as Momon.

The ship had already navigated past the jagged cliffs of Dragonspine and the long, sweeping sands of Falcon Coast, where the lighthouse stood like a lonely sentinel. Now, as the wind howled softly against the sails, their destination drew closer.

Inside the grandest chamber aboard the ship, a dim candlelit glow flickered over stacks of books and scattered parchment. The air was thick with the scent of aged paper and ink, mingling with the rich fragrance of foreign spices from Snezhnaya. At the center of the luxurious room sat Signora, draped in her signature crimson and black attire, her piercing eyes scanning over pages of ancient texts with a look of deep concentration.

Her fingers traced over words lost to time, notes detailing forgotten myths and legendary figures that might hold the answers she sought. The pile of books before her was daunting—at least fifteen tomes stacked high, filled with historical accounts, folklore, and theories on entities that could rival the Archons.

Across the room, slouched lazily in a high-backed chair, was Childe. Unlike Signora, who was intently focused, the young Harbinger was flipping through a book with a vacant stare, idly turning the pages without actually reading them. His elbow rested on the armrest, cheek pressed against his palm, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

A long silence stretched between them before he finally broke it.

"Did you find anything?" he asked, his voice tinged with boredom.

Signora barely looked up. "Did you?" she shot back coolly.

"Nope," Childe admitted, dropping the book onto his lap.

"Then shut up," she snapped, returning to her reading.

Childe smirked, leaning back in his chair. "You know, you're really obsessed with this guy," he mused. "Digging through old books isn't gonna tell you his origin. We don't even know how old he is—or if he's even human."

Signora slammed a book shut and exhaled sharply through her nose. "That 'guy' defeated an Archon, Childe. Do you have any idea what that means?"

Childe's smirk faded slightly.

"He fought and won against the Raiden Shogun herself," she continued. "A power like that must be documented somewhere. That kind of force doesn't just appear out of nowhere. That's why I'm searching these ancient Mondstadtian texts. People assume he's from here since this is where he made his first known appearance."

Childe raised an eyebrow. "C'mon, Signora. Just because he started in Mondstadt doesn't mean he's from here. Maybe he's playing some long game—acting like a Mondstadter to throw off suspicion about his real origins."

She scoffed. "Then that only makes him even more dangerous. A man shrouded in mystery, who wields unfathomable power, and who has no known ties to any nation? That's exactly the kind of being we need to be wary of."

Childe tapped his fingers against the armrest. "Still, aren't you overthinking this? I mean, we've handled dangerous foes before. What makes him any different?"

Signora gave him a sharp look, her crimson eyes glinting in the candlelight. "Pierro is worried, Childe. Pierro. The first of the Harbingers, the man who never shows emotion. He is concerned enough to assign me and 'La Damselette' to gather intelligence. That should tell you just how serious this is."

Childe frowned slightly at that. Pierro being concerned was indeed rare.

"Making the Jester himself nervous… That Momon guy must really be something sinister," he muttered.

"There's even speculation," Signora said, lowering her voice, "that he may be on par with the Heavenly Principles."

A tense silence filled the room.

Childe blinked, then let out a short, humorless laugh. "Pfft. That's terrifying—but wouldn't that also make him a Descender?"

"Exactly," Signora said, leaning forward, her fingers pressing against the pages of an open book. "That's one of the possibilities we're exploring. If he is a Descender, it changes everything."

Childe exhaled, shaking his head. "Great. As if things weren't complicated enough already. And all of this is slowing down our actual mission. The Fatui are supposed to be making progress, not tiptoeing around a walking catastrophe."

Signora rubbed her temples. "Which is why we need more information. This 'Momon' is throwing everything off balance. We can't move forward until we understand what we're dealing with."

Childe leaned forward. "So, where are we heading now?"

Signora pulled out a small, detailed map and placed it on the table. Her gloved finger tapped against a marked location. "The Thousand Winds Temple. There's a new Fatui camp established there. Those ruins have been abandoned for ages, but they provide an excellent vantage point. We can spy from a distance, monitor his movements without being seen."

Childe crossed his arms. "And you think that will help?"

"It's better than sitting around blindly," Signora replied. "Whatever slaughtered our forces in Dragonspine can't reach us from that far away."

Childe stood, stretching. "Well, have fun with that. Once you depart, I'll head back to Snezhnaya. I'd rather ask Pierro for my next mission than waste my time with old books."

Signora waved a dismissive hand. "Do whatever you want, Childe. Just don't get yourself killed before I find the answers I need."

Childe chuckled, rolling his shoulders. "No promises."

As the Fatui ship continued its course toward the coast, the distant ruins of the Thousand Winds Temple loomed on the horizon, bathed in the silver glow of the moon. Unbeknownst to them, the shadows of fate were already in motion—Momon's presence in Teyvat was no mere anomaly. And soon, they would realize just how little they truly understood.

Where once there had been only snowstorms and the howling wind, now there floated great masses of stone—impossibly large flying islands, ancient and silent as they cast dark shadows over the land below. These islands, once belonging to the long-lost realm of Enkanomiya, had been torn from their hidden abyssal domain and brought to the surface world through Momon's magic.

It was a feat beyond comprehension. The spellwork involved had been so complex, so monumental, that only a being of immense arcane mastery could have achieved it. And now, the result hovered quietly over the frozen coastlines like fragments of a forgotten dream.

Momon himself drifted through the frigid air, his dark cloak billowing behind him, the glowing red embers in his empty eye sockets casting faint light through the mist. He had taken it upon himself to inspect these new additions to the ever-growing territory of the Nazarick Dominion. With every conquest, every act of unearthly dominion, his influence spread like shadowed fire across Teyvat.

He arrived at one of the largest of the flying isles—an island of vast ruins, whose massive columns and fractured courtyards told of an era long erased from history. The architecture was worn by time but still stood with an unnatural majesty. The stone, pale and veined with ghostlight, whispered of a great civilization that once thrived in secrecy beneath the oceans.

Momon slowed his flight, descending gently toward the center of the island, where a towering spire stretched impossibly high into the sky—so tall it seemed to challenge the peak of Dragonspine itself. The tower was not only tall, but ancient in a way that even he, master of death and time-forgotten sorcery, could sense in his very bones.

He landed silently on a cracked marble path that led straight toward the base of the monolith. As the snow from Dragonspine drifted around the edges of the floating isle, the air grew colder. Yet to Momon, who no longer possessed flesh or breath, the chill was meaningless.

He looked up, slowly removing his mask. The gold and black helm lifted away to reveal his gleaming white skull, illuminated by the twin red lights that burned in his eye sockets. Though his expression never changed, a soft whisper escaped his unmoving mouth.

"…Impressive."

The ancient tower loomed overhead, casting its long shadow across the ruined island. "This place must have held immense significance," he murmured aloud, his voice echoing with unnatural depth. "For a civilization to erect something of such scale… they must have poured everything into it. Power, belief, legacy."

He took a step forward, his boots clicking against the cold stone. As he did, the world around him shimmered—spectral shapes began to flicker into view. All around him, ghostly forms wept, wandered, and vanished. There were thousands—lost souls from millennia past, bound to the ruins that had once been their home.

Momon narrowed his glowing eyes. "So many spirits... trapped here for ages. Their agony has kept them tied to this world," he said slowly. "But perhaps... their torment has not been in vain."

He raised one hand, studying the curling mists of spectral energy coiling between his fingers. "These lost souls… with the right technique, I can convert them into Wraiths. No—High Wraiths, perhaps even Nazgûls or a new generation of Witch Kings to serve the Dominion. Their lingering hatred and sorrow will be perfect material."

A low, rasping voice echoed from above. "A perfect plan, my Lord…"

Momon glanced up.

From the gloom descended a towering figure cloaked in blackened armor. Wings made of shadows flared behind him briefly before fading. His skeletal frame bore the weight of an enormous war-scythe across his back—a weapon whose blade glowed faintly with the cries of the damned.

It was Thanatos, the Guardian of Dragonspine—one of Momon's most fearsome creations. A silent hunter of souls, commander of frost-covered undead, and collector of spirits.

Thanatos landed heavily beside his master, knees bent in a formal bow, the tip of his scythe striking the ground with a metallic ring.

"My Lord Momon," he said, his voice dry and ancient, like wind scraping over tombstones.

Momon nodded. "Rise, Thanatos."

The undead knight obeyed, standing tall and still, his crimson eyes glowing behind his helm.

"Welcome," Momon continued. "What do you make of this place?"

Thanatos turned, slowly taking in the towering spire, the howling spirits, the ruins that spread across the floating isle. His fingers tightened around his scythe's haft.

"Oh, I can feel them…" he said with an eerie chuckle. "The wretched souls of this place… their despair sings to me, my Lord. It calls to the edge of my blade. I could reap every last one and trap their essence in my scythe. Their power would become mine—and in turn, yours."

The weapon on his back trembled slightly as if hungry.

Momon tilted his skull slightly, and his voice was low but commanding. "No."

Thanatos froze. "My Lord?"

"I do not permit it," Momon said firmly. "These souls are not for your blade. They have a purpose greater than feeding your hunger for power."

Thanatos immediately lowered his head, one knee touching the ground once more. "I would never dare disobey, my Lord. Your will is the law. I exist only to serve it."

"Good…" Momon said, his voice low and controlled, echoing with a faint undertone of something ancient and commanding. "Now, has there been any problem in Dragonspine?"

Thanatos stood tall beside his master—his towering, armored frame shrouded in bone-white plates laced with dark runes, eyes burning like dim embers. Despite his grim visage, he spoke with unwavering deference.

"Absolutely not, my Lord. The region remains under our control. However…" His voice paused briefly, like the still moment before a sword is drawn. "We have discovered something unusual. Something that may require your direct attention."

Momon turned toward him slowly. "Oh? And what exactly have you found?"

Without further words, Thanatos raised a hand, and with a subtle nod from Momon, both vanished in a ripple of magical energy. Space folded around them, and in the blink of an eye, they reappeared within the heart of Dragonspine—a vast, hollow cavern buried deep within the mountain's frozen core.

The cold here was unlike any natural winter. It was oppressive and ancient, as if the mountain itself had long ago died and this cavern was its tomb. Massive ice spikes jutted from every surface—stalactites hanging like frozen fangs from above, and crystalline spears erupted from the ground like frozen scars. Mist drifted lazily through the air, and the dim glow of conjured soul-flames gave the entire scene a spectral, haunting beauty.

Amid this glacial cathedral hovered a monolithic object.

In the center of this cavern hovered a pillar. Not resting on a pedestal or rooted into the ground—no, this structure defied gravity, suspended several feet above the ice. It was a towering column of immaculate white stone, carved with holy symbols and complex golden reliefs. Even partially cracked, it exuded a divine presence, like something that did not belong in the mortal realm.

Thick black chains—arcane and jagged—coiled tightly around it, binding its length like serpents trying to strangle the divine.

Momon's eyes flared with interest. "What is this?"

Thanatos gestured toward the pillar with a gauntleted hand. "We found it high on the mountain, my Lord. Buried in the ruins of what appeared to be a forgotten civilization. What struck me immediately… was the magic emanating from it. It's unlike anything I've sensed before. Divine, perhaps. Sacred. But warped—like it has been dormant for ages and only just begun to stir."

Momon floated closer, silent as a shadow. His dark cloak trailed behind him, untouched by the cold, and he raised one skeletal hand toward the artifact.

"[All Appraisal Magic Item," he uttered with calm precision.

A faint hum filled the air as wisps of magical energy curled around the pillar. Symbols flickered to life, only to dissolve before they could be fully read. A few fragmented lines of knowledge revealed themselves to Momon, not through words but through emotion—a strange, divine concept imprinted into the object's core.

"…Purification?" he murmured, the word slipping out almost involuntarily.

Thanatos shifted, catching the whisper. "Purification, my Lord?"

Momon lowered his hand and turned slightly. "That is all my magic could decipher. The rest of its structure is too damaged, or perhaps too divine, to be properly read. But one thing is clear—its purpose is linked to purification."

He gestured toward the chains. "Why did you bind it?"

Thanatos' skeletal jaw shifted slightly as he explained, "It was in pieces when we arrived. My Death Knights began investigating—until one stepped on what seemed to be an icy shard. It broke beneath his foot, and… something triggered. Every fragment flew through the air like it was alive. The pieces reunited, reforming the pillar entirely."

Momon's gaze sharpened.

"Then, almost immediately, it began to ascend. It rose into the sky like a divine spear, illuminating the mountain peak. I feared it would draw attention—or worse, activate something catastrophic. So I commanded the Chains of Withering to bind it and ordered it transported here."

"Rise?" Momon echoed.

"Yes, my Lord. Straight up. It began to ascend, slowly at first, but gaining momentum, toward the sky. As if responding to something above."

Thanatos's gaze narrowed. "I feared it might be a beacon—or worse, a weapon preparing to activate. I had it restrained immediately and brought here before it could act further."

He hovered for a moment in thought, then asked, "And what else did you find?"

"I believe this object did not originate on this mountain," Thanatos replied. "It was not built here, nor did it fall by accident. It was hurled from the sky, perhaps by a divine force. The ruins surrounding the impact site are scorched and cracked beneath the ice. The entire landscape bears the mark of sudden, concentrated destruction. There is a crater, perfectly circular, centered around where the pillar once lay."

Momon floated back slightly, his arms folding behind his back as he began to pace slowly in the air, deep in thought.

"A purification device cast from the heavens…" he murmured. "Fascinating."

He stared at the pillar again, his crimson eyes reflecting the divine light. "If it is truly meant to cleanse corruption… then the civilization that once dwelled here may have been consumed by something darker. Something that even the gods feared."

Thanatos remained silent, absorbing the weight of his master's theory.

Momon continued, "They may have chosen to sacrifice the entire mountain—bury it under snow, ice, and silence—rather than let the corruption spread. Turning Dragonspine into a tomb… not just for the dead, but for whatever evil once awakened here."

He drifted closer to the pillar once more, the divine aura brushing against his necrotic body like warm wind meeting frost.

"…But this is only conjecture," he said after a moment. "Treat my words as theory, not absolute truth."

Thanatos bowed. "As you command."

Momon took another moment to observe the chained pillar, then issued his orders. "Place this cavern under constant surveillance. I want a detachment of Appraisal Specters and Arcane Wardens monitoring it at all times. If it reacts again—if it moves—I am to be informed immediately."

Thanatos inclined his head. "As you command, my Lord."

Thanatos was still curious about another thing. "What is your plan about those flying islands, my Lord?"

"Hmm… I guess the same thing as Dragonspine, Old Mondstadt, and Guyun Stone Forest. I'll create another undead servant to guard the territory just as you guard Dragonspine."

"Very well, my Lord."

With a whisper of displaced air, Momon vanished from the frozen wastes, reappearing atop the highest spire of Enkanomiya's central tower. The transition from Dragonspine's biting cold to the thin, ozone-charged air of the floating islands was instantaneous. Around him, the ruins of a forgotten civilization stretched endlessly - crumbling stone bridges connecting shattered islands, their edges trailing off into the abyss below. The perpetual twilight of this realm cast everything in an eerie blue glow, the faint echoes of long-dead whispers carried on the wind.

Then - movement.

A wisp of pale light danced at the periphery of his vision, flickering like a dying candle. To mortal eyes, it might have been mistaken for a trick of the dim illumination, but Momon saw the truth. His crimson eye-lights flared as he focused on the spectral entity.

"A ghost," he murmured, his voice carrying both curiosity and amusement. "But not one of the common sort."

Momon used his undead dominance to trap the ghost and put it under his control.

"What am I doing?" he thought. "I actually forgot that I need a corpse to create an undead that would stay here permanently and not vanish after an hour… but it won't hurt if I give it a try though."

"[Create High-Tier Undead - Witch King]"

The ancient stones beneath his feet erupted in a seething maelstrom of black and violet energy. Jagged runes burned themselves into reality, their unholy script pulsing with forbidden power. The ghost convulsed violently, its form stretching and warping as the dark magic reshaped its very essence.

What had been a mere wisp of light now twisted into something far more terrible. Shadows bled from its core, swallowing the pale glow and replacing it with an all-consuming darkness. Obsidian plates materialized from the void, forming jagged armor that crackled with residual energy. A tattered cape billowed into existence, its frayed edges whispering secrets of the abyss. Where a face should have been, there was only an endless void - a yawning chasm of nothingness that threatened to swallow the souls of those who dared gaze upon it.

Then came the crown.

Forged from blackened metal that drank in the light, its jagged spikes curved like the talons of some primordial beast. As it settled upon the wraith's unseen brow, the very air screamed in protest, reality itself recoiling from the abomination that had been born.

The newly formed Witch King rose to its full, terrifying height, the ground trembling beneath its presence. When it spoke, its voice was the sound of grinding bones and whispering shadows.

What Momon had done was not that he created just another random undead, but ascended the ghost into a higher being, a wraith of the highest order, a Witch King.

"I exist to serve the Supreme One!" declared the Witch King with a deep raspy voice.

"I have an order for you. I want you to turn this place upside down and rebuild everything. The Grim Reaper Thanatos and Death Emperor Roman shall provide whatever assistance you require. Should you uncover any ancient knowledge within these ruins, deliver it to Thanatos - he will determine its value." As for your name, I shall call you Cassius for now on," said Momon.

"As you wish, my Lord!" said Witch King.

"Very well, Cassius." Momon turned and saw that the morning sun was rising and the islands were getting a better view. At that moment, he teleported away. And at the center of it all, Cassius stood ready - a king of wraiths, a lord of the floating dead, and a new terror born from the Overlord's will.

Momon had teleported to the top of the canyon cliffs, where once ragged stone ruins and ancient crumbled monuments had stood like the bones of a fallen god. This place, once the forsaken remains of Old Mondstadt, ravaged by time and gods, was utterly unrecognizable.

But what lay before him now was not what he expected.

Momon's crimson gaze widened.

What lay beneath him was no longer ruin, but rebirth—a colossal city-castle had risen from the bones of the past like a black phoenix.

Vast gothic towers pierced the stormy skies, each adorned with twisted gargoyles and wrought iron balconies that jutted like thorns. Black banners emblazoned with Momon's sigil fluttered in the windless air. The ruins of the old tower—the symbol of the decayed Mondstadt past—had been utterly replaced. In its place stood a monolithic central spire, taller than any mortal structure, its peak lost in low-hanging storm clouds. It pulsed with negative energy, a beacon of the undead dominion.

The architecture was staggering. Flying buttresses connected high towers, while bridges of dark obsidian arched over avenues wide enough for legions to march ten abreast. Crimson-glowing lanterns lined the streets, their flickering light casting haunting shadows upon the granite streets. Ornate stained glass windows, each depicting the triumphs of death and conquest, shimmered with eerie color.

Momon slowly turned, his gaze tracing the sprawling perimeter. The undead had expanded far beyond the original ruins—massive walls, forged of dark stone and reinforced with shadow-forged metal, now encircled the entire canyon, sealing the city off from the outside world. They were adorned with obsidian spikes and skeletal carvings, built to intimidate and to hide the terrible magnificence that thrived within.

The Supreme Overlord leapt from the cliffside and soared down into the heart of his undead city. The air grew colder as he descended, not due to weather, but the unnatural chill of necromantic presence. Below, the streets were alive—but not with mortals. Countless undead walked, floated, and marched through the avenues.

Skeleton laborers, ghoul architects, banshees directing shade-bound scaffolds, and dread knights in dark armor patrolled the roads in perfect silence. There was no chatter, no trade, no celebration. Only purpose. Each undead moved with efficiency and perfect unity, serving one absolute cause:

The glory of Momon, the Supreme One.

Momon took a slow breath—not out of need, but out of something deeper. Something akin to awe.

"I did not expect… this," he muttered to himself, his voice laced with dark admiration.

The streets stretched endlessly before him. Every detail—every spire, every archway, every crypt-shaped home—spoke of ambition realized. The undead had not simply built a fortress—they had erected a capital of undeath, a sovereign seat of necrotic might.

He turned slowly, his cape dragging behind him like a shadow.

"They built an entire city-castle in such a short time…" he said in his thoughts, almost in disbelief.

Roman, the Death Emperor, appeared in front of him, and the armored skeleton bowed on his knees, and all nearby undead instantly stopped what they were doing and dropped to one knee.

"I see you have been busy, Roman," Momon finally said, his tone calm but edged with pride. "And making... excellent progress."

Roman bowed his head lower, his voice reverent. "It is as you say, my Lord. We have carved your will into every stone. What was once decay and ruin has been reforged into a city worthy of your dominion—a realm of discipline, might, and death eternal."

"You have done a great job, Roman. This new city... is perfection," he said. "It sings of power. It breathes with control. I'm impressed."

A flicker of pride—rare even among the undead—crossed Roman's presence. "Your words are our reward, my Lord."

Momon's gaze turned sharper, more calculating. "Has any mortal approached this domain?"

"A few, my Lord. Some Fatui, then some treasure thieves, we have eliminated them. There were some adventurers and hikers too, but I sent a vampire female to turn them back, telling them these lands are off limits," said Roman.

"Umu, it's a good idea to send the vampires since they are the only ones that look somewhat like humans," said Momon.

"Correct, my Lord," said Roman.

"Good, very good," Momon murmured, his voice echoing through the silent streets. "This is how I imagined a city of the Nazarick Dominion to look, and you have delivered, Roman."

Beside him, the Death Emperor, Roman, bowed low, his form a stark contrast to the grandeur of the city. "I am unworthy of such praise, Supreme One. It is my honor to serve you and bring your vision to life."

Momon turned to Roman, his skeletal features softening slightly. "Rise, Roman. Let us walk together and see what you have accomplished."

The two undead figures began their journey through the city, their footsteps echoing on the cobblestone streets. Roman led the way, his pride evident in every gesture as he showed Momon the fruits of his labor. The city, built upon the ancient foundations of Old Mondstadt, was a testament to the ingenuity and unyielding dedication of the undead.

As they walked, Roman pointed out the various buildings and chambers that had been constructed with meticulous care. The giant castle at the city's heart was a marvel of gothic architecture, its towering walls and pointed arches casting long shadows over the streets below. Within its hallowed halls, guest rooms adorned with opulent furnishings awaited future visitors, while war rooms equipped with maps and strategic tools stood ready for the planning of grand campaigns.

Deep beneath the castle, a labyrinth of underground tunnels stretched out in every direction, their secrets known only to the highest-ranking members of the Nazarick Dominion. Chambers for prisoners, designed to hold even the most powerful of foes, lay hidden in the depths, their walls reinforced with ancient magic.

Momon nodded in approval as Roman led him through the castle, his eyes taking in every detail. "Everything is on point, Roman. You have outdone yourself."

Yet, despite the perfection of the city, there was one thing missing: life. The streets were silent, devoid of the bustling energy that characterized mortal cities. Momon knew that opening the gates to mortals was not a decision to be made lightly. The population of Mondstadt was not large enough to sustain a sudden migration, and the secrets of the Nazarick Dominion were not yet ready to be revealed to the world.

As they emerged from the castle, Momon's mind raced with possibilities. He needed a plan, a way to bring life to his city without compromising its secrets. His gaze fell upon the market district, its stalls and shops standing empty, awaiting the day when they would be filled with the hum of commerce.

"Hmm, there must be something..." Momon murmured, his thoughts turning to the potions he carried in his inventory. These elixirs, capable of healing even the deepest wounds and restoring lost limbs, would be a valuable commodity in any market. Yet, he knew that introducing such powerful items too soon could raise suspicions about their otherworldly origins.

He turned to Roman, his voice filled with determination. "We need to create a market that will draw merchants from far and wide, but we must do so carefully. These potions are too valuable to sell openly. Instead, we will create a line of lesser healing items, crafted by our undead artisans. Weapons, armor, and other goods will also be produced, each bearing the mark of the Nazarick Dominion."

Roman nodded, his eyes gleaming with understanding. "It shall be done, Supreme One. I will see to it that our most skilled undead are put to the task."

As Momon and Roman continued their survey of the city, an undead guard approached them, his skeletal form clattering softly with each step. He bowed low, his empty eye sockets fixed on the ground in a show of respect.

"My lords," it rasped, its voice like dry leaves scraping against stone. "It is that human female again."

Roman's massive helm tilted slightly, the crimson glow within his visor flickering with recognition. "The White Maiden?"

"Yes, Lord Roman," the guard confirmed.

Momon turned his skeletal gaze toward his subordinate, the faintest hint of curiosity in his hollow tone. "The White Maiden?"

Roman inclined his head. "Yes, my Lord. A mortal woman—she has been seen gathering herbs near our borders. She comes dangerously close, though she seems oblivious to our presence."

Without another word, Roman raised a gauntleted hand. The air twisted violently as [Greater Teleportation] engulfed them, depositing both undead lords atop the towering obsidian battlements that encircled the necropolis.

Below, the dense forest stretched out, its emerald canopy swaying gently in the breeze. And there, amidst the dappled sunlight, moved a lone figure—a girl with golden hair that shimmered like spun sunlight, her white and blue robes stark against the verdant undergrowth. She hummed softly as she plucked mint leaves, placing them delicately into a woven basket.

"That is the mint picker, my Lord," Roman rumbled, pointing a clawed finger toward her.

Momon's crimson gaze sharpened. "Oh... I've seen her before."

The memory surfaced—a fleeting glimpse of this same girl within Mondstadt's church, her voice raised in hymns of devotion. Barbara, the deaconess. A healer. A beacon of purity in a world of decay.

Roman turned to the nearest guard. "Summon a vampire. Have them ensure she does not trespass further—"

"No."

Momon's skeletal hand clamped onto Roman's pauldron, the dark metal groaning under the pressure. The Death Emperor froze, the glow within his visor flickering in surprise.

"I will deal with her," Momon stated, his voice carrying an edge of finality.

Roman hesitated only a moment before bowing. "Uhh, very well, my Lord," he replied, stepping back to allow Momon to take the lead.

With a faint ripple in the fabric of space, Momon appeared beneath the tangled boughs of an old ash tree. He had cloaked himself in [Perfect Unknowable, veiling his presence from all senses—sight, sound, even magical detection.

To the world, he was nothing more than a shadow lost between light and dark.

His glowing crimson eyes scanned the clearing ahead, quickly spotting the young nun. She was crouched low behind a tree, her small hands clutching her wicker basket of mint. Her breathing was shallow and rapid, her delicate shoulders rising and falling in panicked rhythm. Though hidden from her senses, Momon immediately sensed something was wrong.

She was afraid.

Then he heard it—a voice slicing through the stillness.

"Barbara-Sama!"

The call was loud, oddly strained, and came from deeper in the woods. The voice was too enthusiastic, too eager, like a child desperate for attention—but in a grown man's body, it rang like a warning bell.

Barbara's reaction was immediate. She bolted from her hiding spot and took off running through the underbrush, her white cloak fluttering behind her like a torn flag in the wind. Momon followed silently, his footsteps making no sound as he glided effortlessly after her.

She didn't stop until she reached the edge of Wolvendom, her chest heaving as she ducked behind another tree. Her face was pale, and her eyes scanned the woods like a hunted deer, wide with dread.

Then, from the shadows behind her, the same voice came again—closer this time.

"There you are, Barbara-Sama!"

She gasped, spinning around in disbelief. "Albert…? How…?"

It made no sense—he had been calling from far away, yet now he stood only a few steps behind her. It was as if he had been chasing her like a shadow all this time.

Albert's grin was unsettling. His eyes sparkled with a fanatic gleam, and he took a step forward, hands clasped like a disciple before a saint. "Why are you running from me, Barbara-Sama? I am your biggest fan!"

Barbara forced a gentle smile despite the anxiety tightening her chest. "I'm glad to hear that, Albert, but… I'm working right now. I just came to gather herbs."

Albert placed a hand over his heart with exaggerated emotion. "You are such a kind soul, Barbara-Sama. The others—they call me strange, but they don't understand! Me and the rest of the Barbara Fan Club—we adore you! You bring light to our lives!"

"It's alright, Albert," she said quietly, trying to pacify him without provoking anything worse.

"Oh, Archon, you're so sweet! Go Barbara, go!" he cheered suddenly, his voice rising with such fervor that Barbara flinched.

"Barbara-Sama," he continued, eyes wide with expectation, "could you please sing a song? Right now? Just for me?"

She trembled, her hands tightening around the basket. It was too much. This man—this obsession—was not just overwhelming, it was invasive. But she didn't want to hurt his feelings. She never did. Her compassion was her strength… and her vulnerability.

And then the world seemed to dim.

A shadow fell over the glade like a sudden eclipse. Albert paused, his body stiffening. A cold chill crept down his spine like the hand of death. Slowly, he turned his head—his breath catching in his throat.

A tall, armored figure loomed behind him, completely still, as if he had been there forever. A gothic, hooded cape flowed over broad shoulders like black smoke. His face was hidden behind a smooth, emotionless mask, and his presence oozed menace. Even without raising a weapon, he radiated power.

And Albert knew that mask. He had seen it in Mondstadt once. Worn by the Honorary Knight who slaughtered a dozen Fatui soldiers and defeated gods. The one even the Knights of Favonius spoke of with reverent fear.

Momon.

Albert's mouth went dry. "Y-You…"

"How about I sing you a lullaby instead…" the masked man said, his voice calm, cold, and laced with ominous amusement.

Before Albert could reply, a gauntleted hand snapped forward like a whip.

CRACK.

Albert's body was lifted clean off the ground and hurled back through the air, crashing ten meters away into the bushes with a dull thud. He didn't get up.

Barbara gasped in horror. "Albert!" She rushed forward instinctively, only to stop halfway. Her heart pounded in her ears as she looked up at the figure standing between her and the unconscious man.

"Are you alright, sister?" came the deep, measured voice.

She blinked. That voice—she knew it. "H-Honorary Knight… Momon?"

He nodded once, lowering his hand. "I am. You seem unharmed, but… frightened."

"I-I'm fine, thank you very much, but…" She looked to Albert's still body. "He—he's not… dead, is he?"

Momon turned his masked face toward her. "No. He's alive. I made sure not to remove his worthless head from his shoulders." His tone was flat, almost bored, but the words were merciless.

Barbara swallowed hard. There was no cruelty in his words—just terrifying honesty. This was the same man hailed as a hero in Mondstadt, and yet, in this moment, he resembled a villain from the old legends.

"I… I see." She forced herself to smile through the fear. "I thought you were far away from Mondstadt, Mister Momon."

"I was," he said simply. "But I returned briefly. I had business to attend to in my domain."

"Your domain… Oh! Yes, I… I saw the great walls. They were so tall and mysterious. I didn't mean to trespass—I was just collecting herbs. I didn't go too close, really!"

"It's alright, sister. You may gather as many herbs as you wish. The dead won't bother you."

"Th-thank you, Mister Momon. But… please, just call me Barbara."

Momon turned, walking toward Albert's crumpled form. With no ceremony, he hoisted the man over one shoulder like a sack of grain. "I'll send this fool back to the Knights. They can decide what to do with him."

Barbara took a deep breath, her voice soft. "I'll come with you."

Side by side, the unlikely pair walked through the meadows beneath the fading light. The nun's steps were lighter now, her earlier fear slowly melting into something else—a strange comfort in the presence of this frightening yet protective figure.

Though he wore the armor of death, Barbara realized… she had never felt safer.

Chapter Text

The swirling magic of [Greater Teleportation] faded in a shimmer of cold wind and arcane energy as Momon and Barbara reappeared—no longer in the forests of Wolvendom but at the stone bridge leading into the heart of Mondstadt. The shift in scenery was so sudden, so seamless, that Barbara could hardly believe her own eyes. One blink, and the quiet woods had transformed into the familiar cobbled road of the city's entrance, the morning sun casting golden rays over the rooftops and the distant cathedral bell chiming softly in the wind.

Barbara's breath caught in her throat. She instinctively glanced down at her hands, her dress, her arms—checking if she was still whole. No nausea, no dizziness. Just… here. As if the world itself had moved around her.

"Amazing…" she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.

Momon, standing tall beside her in his dark, imposing armor and billowing hooded cape, began walking forward with a casual calm that contrasted starkly with the stunned looks of the two Knights of Favonius stationed at the gate. Slung over his shoulder like a ragdoll was the limp body of Albert, the fan club zealot, still unconscious from the earlier, well-earned blow.

The two knights, both in standard Mondstadt armor with blue sashes flapping in the breeze, straightened as they saw the armored figure approach. Their posture stiffened in alarm, eyes widening.

"H-Honorary Knight…!" one of them blurted out. "Is… is that—?"

Without a word, Momon stepped closer and tossed Albert's body off his shoulder. The poor man landed in a graceless heap at the knights' feet, the dull thud of his body against the cobblestones punctuating the moment with grim finality.

"That scum," Momon said coldly, his voice echoing with power behind the helm, "was stalking and harassing the nun Barbara in the woods of Wolvendom. I'm placing him in your custody. Put him behind bars."

The second knight, a younger man named Lawrence, recognized the unconscious figure with a pained groan. "Albert… you fool! You really did it again!"

Momon's head tilted slightly.

"…Again?" he asked, the word rolling from his lips like a death sentence.

The atmosphere shifted immediately. The warmth of the sun suddenly seemed distant, and a creeping chill hung in the air. Momon's boots made a slow, deliberate step toward the knight. Lawrence visibly gulped, his face pale as he stared into the void of Momon's helm. From within the shadowed hollows, two crimson lights pulsed—a slow, steady glow like embers smoldering in a black pit.

Lawrence couldn't help but tremble.

"M-Milord," he stammered. "I-I mean… Lord Momon. You see, Albert… he was apprehended once before. For harassing Miss Barbara. It—it was dealt with internally at the time."

"And yet," Momon said, stepping even closer, "here he is. Free. Harassing her again. Why?"

The knight nearly dropped his spear as sweat formed visibly on his brow.

"It… it was because of Miss Barbara!" Lawrence admitted in a panicked rush. "She pleaded for leniency! She didn't want charges pressed, and she begged us to let him go!"

"M-Mister Momon," Barbara interjected gently, stepping forward with her hands clasped at her chest. Her voice was soft, serene—like the ringing of a silver bell in a chapel. "It's true. I… I didn't want to hurt Albert. As a sister of the Church of Favonius, I believe in forgiveness, in the gentle light of the Anemo Archon's mercy. I know Albert… his behavior isn't right, but he's not a criminal in his heart. He's just… misguided. Lost."

Momon said nothing at first. His gaze shifted subtly from Barbara to the bustling city behind them. There, amidst a line of tavern-goers and half-asleep merchants, a slouched figure stumbled through the street, swaying with a half-empty bottle of dandelion wine in his hand. It was him—Barbatos, the so-called Anemo Archon. Disguised as the bard Venti, hiccupping softly to himself as he tried to convince another drunk guy to sing with him.

Momon's red gaze narrowed slightly. Then he turned back to the knights.

"Right…" he muttered.

He took another breath—unnecessary, but calming—and addressed the guards in a tone that left no room for debate.

"Whether she forgives him or not is irrelevant this time. I witnessed the crime with my own eyes. This is not a matter of feelings—it is justice. I, Momon, demand that this man be imprisoned. Let the Church or the Acting Grand Master sort it out. But for now, he is a danger to the peace of this city."

"Y-Yes, Sir!" the guards snapped to attention instantly.

Two other knights, having heard the commotion, jogged up and began lifting Albert with practiced ease.

"We'll inform the captain and the church of the incident," one of them assured. "He'll be placed in a cell until further orders."

"Make sure he stays there this time," Momon said sharply.

"Yes, sir!" all the knights responded in unison, clearly terrified of disappointing him.

Barbara, still a little shaken, looked up at the silent figure beside her. His presence was overwhelming. His power felt unearthly. And yet… here he was, standing up for her, protecting her from a stalker no one else had truly stopped before.

"I… I don't know what to say, Mister Momon," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you. Truly."

Momon glanced at her, and for a moment, the faintest shift of tone softened his otherwise grim voice.

"You shouldn't have to say anything, Barbara. It's the city that should be thanking you—for your kindness, your songs, and your heart. You deserve better than to be stalked like prey."

Barbara looked down, flustered, cheeks pink.

As the Honorary Knight turned and began walking toward the plaza, Barbara followed.

The wind howled like a wounded beast through the jagged crags of Dragonspine's eastern slope. Snow lashed the frozen mountain path, and the skies were a smothered, ashen gray—an eternal twilight that clung to the land like a suffocating shroud. Amid this frozen silence, the sound of crunching footsteps echoed steadily through the ice-covered terrain.

A phalanx of armored figures moved with grim purpose along the Snow-Covered Path, their blackened steel boots cracking the permafrost beneath them. They marched in perfect formation—silent, unyielding, soulless. These were not men, but the dead. Undead warriors clad in heavy, jagged plate armor so thick and corroded with time that no living soul could see the bones hidden beneath. Their eyes burned dimly from behind their visors—cold lights that betrayed nothing but a hunger for slaughter.

At the front of the group marched a towering figure, twice the size of any man. His armor was covered in massive iron spikes, and a massive greataxe rested across his broad back like a toy. This was no man—it was the Undead Berserker, a creature of rage bound to eternal duty by the will of the Supreme One.

But among this host of death, one figure stood apart.

He was small, thin, and eerily silent. A boy, or something that once resembled one. His short, snow-white hair whipped in the icy wind, untouched by time or decay. His skin was pale, the color of moonlight on a tombstone, and his eyes—dark and pit-like—glowed faintly red within their sockets. He wore simple dark clothes beneath fitted black armor, lighter than the others, designed not for war but for swiftness and hunting. Though he looked young, perhaps twelve or thirteen at most, his aura reeked of something older… and hungrier.

The boy's name was White. A name given to him by his new kin, after his colorless hair and pale, unmarred appearance. But he was no longer human. Not anymore.

He was a ghoul.

Born not of life, but of death—turned into an undead by the will of Thanatos himself, after being found completely frozen, shackled to a tree deep within the mountain. Left to die by unknown hands in an act of cruel abandonment, the boy's memories were shattered, lost to time and cold. Whatever he had once been, that life was gone. All that remained now was his hunger and his loyalty to the undead.

A sharp noise escaped his nose.

"Sniff."

His nostrils flared, and he came to a sudden stop, head snapping toward the east like a predator who had just caught the scent of prey on the wind. Without a word, he leapt with supernatural grace, landing atop a high slab of ancient rock coated in frost.

The column of undead halted as one, their formation breaking only slightly to allow their commander to step forward.

The Berserker's voice was a low, gravel-filled rumble that echoed like stone grinding against stone. "What is it, boy? Speak."

White crouched on the rock, his black-clawed fingers pressed against the ice. He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the trail. Then he stood, spine straightening, and turned his glowing red eyes to his master.

"…Man flesh," he whispered at first. Then his voice sharpened as he turned toward the east, where the grey sky grew slightly brighter over the horizon. "Fatui flesh. Precisely.

The Berserker's chest rose and fell with something between anticipation and fury.

"FATUI…" he growled. Then, raising his axe high into the air, he roared: "PREPARE FOR SLAUGHTER!"

A chorus of steel rang out as swords, spears, and axes were drawn. The ground trembled with the stomp of armored boots, and bloodless mouths twisted into grim parodies of grins beneath their helms.

But before the horde could begin their march, a small voice interrupted the storm of anticipation.

"No! No, my Lord—please wait!" White called out and leapt down from the rock, landing with a soft thud in the snow beside the Berserker.

The giant's helm turned, his glowing red eyes narrowing. "Explain yourself."

"They're not nearby," said White quickly, rising to his feet. "The scent… It's strong, but distant. I'd wager it comes from beyond Dragonspine. Far beyond—even past Dadaupa Gorge."

A low, rumbling growl came from deep within the Berserker's helm. "Such range..."

"They must be a great number if the stench reaches us here," White added, sniffing the air again. "They're moving. A large group. Fatui… perhaps Important Fatui lords. Or something worse."

The Berserker turned, frost cascading from his pauldrons as he moved. "Ghouls can smell death like no other. If you are certain, then this is not some random patrol. The Fatui are preparing something."

He raised one armored fist, and the surrounding undead fell into silence.

"Bring the ghosts," he ordered at last, his voice low but commanding. "Send them east. Let them trace the wind. Tell them to follow the trail until their ectoplasmic eyes fall upon our prey."

White nodded, baring his teeth in a grin that was far too wide for a boy his age.

"At once, my Lord!"

Without waiting for further command, he spun and vanished into the drifting mist, sprinting across the snow with unnatural speed. His footfalls made no sound. His figure faded quickly into the frozen white, a phantom child with hunger in his bones and the scent of prey on his mind.

Behind him, the undead war party stood motionless like statues, waiting only for orders. And high above them, the winds of Dragonspine carried whispers of war.

The dead were stirring.

And the living… would soon feel their wrath.

"Hello, Venti," Momon said, his voice deep and even.

Venti blinked, momentarily disoriented, the rim of his wine goblet still touching his lips. Lowering the drink, he tilted his head and gave a wide, familiar grin.

"Huh? Wha—" he squinted, then gasped in recognition. "Honorary Knight Momon! What a pleasure—hic—to see you again in the City of Freedom, my dear friend!"

Venti's emerald eyes gleamed with a mixture of mischief and genuine delight. His relaxed, almost boyish demeanor was in stark contrast to the powerful presence Momon exuded.

At that moment, Venti's gaze shifted, noticing the golden-haired figure standing a few steps behind Momon. "Ah! And hello there, Sister Barbara!" he called, raising his goblet in a clumsy salute.

Barbara, ever the picture of grace and warmth, gave a bright, polite smile. She clasped her hands together and dipped her head slightly in greeting. "Good day to you, Master Venti. Mister Momon, if you'll excuse me, I must return to the Cathedral. I promised Sister Victoria I would help with the evening hymn practice." Her soft voice carried a sweetness that seemed to brighten even the air around them.

Momon gave a simple nod. "Sure. I'll visit the church later if I have the time."

Barbara beamed, then curtsied gently before making her way up the marble steps toward Mondstadt's grand Cathedral, her white and blue robes fluttering behind her like angelic wings. Both men watched her retreating figure for a moment—the knight with silent observation, the bard with an almost wistful fondness.

"The darling Deaconess," Venti said, his voice warm with admiration, "with the voice as pure as springwater. What a blessing she is to this city."

Momon crossed his arms, his imposing silhouette casting a long shadow in the midday sun. "What brought you two together, I wonder?" Venti asked, his tone teasing yet curious.

"Some creep was harassing her out in Wolvendom. I happened to be nearby. Took care of the situation," Momon said, his voice like rolling thunder, though there was an undertone of disdain when he mentioned the incident.

Venti blinked, then grinned wider, raising his bottle in a mock toast. "Ah, so a knightly act indeed! Saving a fair maiden from the clutches of a scoundrel—how very heroic! A tale worthy of song."

Momon remained silent for a moment, as if weighing Venti's lightheartedness against the gravity of his own thoughts. Then he spoke, voice low.

"Tell me something, Venti." The bard lowered his goblet, sensing the shift in tone. "Do you actually hear them? The devotion of the people of Mondstadt? Their prayers... their blessings? The hopes they send to you, whether whispered from their beds or shouted from the cathedral steps?"

Venti's smile faded into something softer, more thoughtful. He leaned back on the bench, tapping the rim of his empty goblet against his knee.

"Hmm..." he mused aloud, tapping his chin. "In a way, yes. Their wishes float on the winds. Their songs, their hopes... they drift to me like seeds on a breeze." He looked at Momon with a faint, distant glint in his eye—something old and melancholic hiding behind the bard's boyish charm. "But I made a choice a long time ago, you see. To be a god of freedom. Not of chains."

Momon watched him closely, unmoving.

"But I'll be honest with you, friend," Venti continued with a small chuckle. "I don't always answer. If I did, this city would be a very different place. I made a vow long ago—not to rule, not to demand worship, but to let them live freely. To find their own path."

He tapped his temple lightly. "Of course, when real danger strikes—when storms rage and monsters rise—then, yes. I answer." His voice grew distant for a moment, almost sorrowful. "Like during the Cataclysm... or when poor Dvalin lost his way. Times like those, I can't stay idle."

Venti's lips curved into a sheepish smile. "As for the Church of the Anemo Archon? Well... after a few bottles of wine and some very poetic ramblings on faith, it just sort of... happened." He laughed, rubbing the back of his head.

Momon gave a slow nod, his crimson eyes unreadable behind the dark hollows of his helm. "I see."

For a few moments, the sounds of Mondstadt filled the silence between them—the chatter of townsfolk, the clatter of hooves on cobblestones, the soft strumming of a bard's lyre in the distance.

And in that silence, a strange understanding passed between them: one was a god who chose to be among mortals, drunk and smiling. The other, something far less human yet infinitely more burdened by duty.

Then Venti smiled again, lighter this time.

"But tell me, Momon," he said, teasingly. "Why the sudden curiosity? You aren't thinking of starting a church yourself, are you?"

Momon's response was hidden beneath the stillness of his mask, but the faint glimmer in his crimson eyes could almost be mistaken for amusement.

"Not exactly," Momon said. "Just... considering the weight of devotion. And how easily it can be misplaced."

Venti raised an eyebrow, intrigued. But for once, he decided not to pry. Instead, he lifted his bottle once more.

"Well then, my mysterious friend, if ever you do start one, let me know. I'll write you the finest hymn Mondstadt has ever heard."

He laughed—a light, airy sound that seemed to dance on the wind.

With a simple gesture, Momon extended his armored hand before him. A shimmering circle of dark light bloomed into existence in midair, like a slit torn through space itself. From within the swirling void, he retrieved five bottles of fine, well-aged wine, each bottle clinking lightly against the other as he drew them out.

The portal snapped shut with a soft crackle of displaced air, leaving only the bottles in Momon's grasp.

Venti's eyes widened, his entire being perking up like a child spotting a long-lost toy.

"Ooooh!" he exclaimed, springing up from the bench with a giddy twirl. His green cape fluttered behind him as he bounced forward, his hands eagerly reaching out.

Momon silently offered him the bottles, and Venti accepted them with the utmost reverence, cradling the collection as if they were precious, fragile children.

"I never forgot the taste of the wine you gave me weeks ago," Venti said, his voice dripping with nostalgia and excitement. He gave one of the bottles an affectionate little pat. "Such craftsmanship, such flavor—better than anything this humble bard could ever afford!"

Momon gave a small nod, his crimson eyes watching the bard's antics with silent amusement.

Before either could say more, a soft, uncertain voice floated toward them from a nearby bench.

"Um... hello? Is someone there?"

Momon turned his head slightly, his senses immediately sharpening. Sitting alone on another bench not far from them was a young girl. Her delicate hands rested nervously on her lap, and thick bandages wrapped securely around her eyes, obscuring them completely. Her head tilted slightly, as though trying to catch their presence through sound alone.

Momon narrowed his gaze. His voice dropped into its usual deep, resonant tone.

"Who's that?" he asked.

Venti followed his gaze and softened visibly. He carefully set the wine bottles down beside the bench before answering.

"That's Glory," Venti said, his voice unusually gentle. "Poor girl... she's blind. Has been for as long as I can remember. But she has an incredible gift—she can recognize people just by hearing their voice alone."

Momon's gaze lingered on the girl, thoughtful, almost weighing something unseen.

"Why don't you heal her vision?" Momon asked, his tone almost accusatory.

Venti scratched the back of his head awkwardly, his braids swinging with the movement. "Uh… I... can't do that," he admitted sheepishly. "Even as the Anemo Archon, my powers don't exactly cover miracles like that."

Momon tilted his head, a slow, almost mechanical movement. His response was blunt and unimpressed.

"Are you for real..."

Before Venti could protest, Momon was already walking toward Glory.

The girl heard the armored footsteps approaching and straightened slightly, sensing someone near.

"Who's there?" she asked softly, her voice quivering with hope and fear.

Without speaking, Momon extended his hand and gently touched her forehead with the tips of his gauntleted fingers. A soft pulse of invisible magic surged from his touch—a deep, resonant hum that only someone attuned to the flow of magic would notice.

Instantly, Glory's body slackened. She fell into a deep, dreamless sleep without a word, crumpling safely onto the bench.

Venti flinched, glancing around nervously. A few citizens were strolling nearby, but none seemed to have noticed yet. With a worried look, he hurried over to Momon.

"Hey! What did you do?" Venti hissed under his breath.

Momon, calm as ever, turned his crimson gaze onto Venti.

"Let's hide for a moment," he said.

Without waiting, he leaped gracefully onto the slanted roof of a nearby house, using the edge to push off toward the great wooden windmill that towered over the plaza. Venti hesitated only a second before following, the breeze assisting his light body as he floated up with ease.

They perched atop the windmill's structure, hidden by its large, slow-turning blades and the height itself. From there, they had a perfect view of the bench below.

Momon folded his arms over his broad chest. "Now she will wake up."

Venti crouched beside him, peering down anxiously. His heart raced in anticipation and confusion.

As they watched, Glory stirred. Her small hands twitched first, then she slowly pushed herself upright, her head tilting in puzzlement. She touched the bandages wrapped around her head with trembling fingers.

Tentatively, with slow, uncertain movements, she began to unwind them.

Layer after layer fell away, until finally her face was free. She blinked rapidly, her eyelids fluttering against the sudden flood of light. Her pupils—beautiful, clear, and vibrant—adjusted slowly.

Then she gasped.

Glory's hands flew to her mouth as she looked around—truly looked—for the first time in what must have been years. The buildings, the trees, the blue sky stretching endlessly above her... she stared at it all with wide, tear-filled eyes.

A sob escaped her lips.

Falling to her knees right there on the cobblestone path, she clasped her hands together and looked skyward. Her voice was broken with emotion as she cried out:

"Thank you... Oh, thank you, Anemo Archon! Thank you for your blessing!"

She began to pray fervently, tears streaming down her cheeks, overwhelmed by the sheer miracle she had just received.

From their high perch, Venti watched in stunned silence. The breeze itself seemed to hold its breath.

Slowly, he turned his head to look at Momon, who stood utterly still, his red eyes gazing downward with an inscrutable expression.

"...How," Venti finally breathed, his voice hoarse with disbelief. "How do you even do that?"

Momon shifted slightly, the sunlight gleaming off the dark metal of his armor. His reply was simple, almost too casual.

"Magic, Venti... Magic."

Venti continued watching Glory from the top of the windmill, her joy a beacon in the square below, brighter than the midday sun. Her prayers echoed softly in the air, and the sound of villagers gathering, murmuring with astonishment and reverence, followed shortly after.

The bard let out a quiet breath, then turned to the man beside him, his expression turning contemplative. He swirled the wine bottle in his hand, watching the liquid glint in the sun before raising his eyes again.

"Magic can truly solve every problem, huh?" he mused, his voice low and laced with wonder, but also a trace of unease. "But, Momon… if you continue to use magic like that—like miracles—people will start to see you as more than a man. They'll think you're a saint… or even an actual god."

He gave a wry smile, but there was no humor in his eyes.

"Well, to be fair, after the news spread about your duel with the Raiden Shogun—and your victory—it's not so insane to say you might be one. Even I had to double-check the winds to make sure it wasn't just drunken gossip."

Momon didn't respond, but the way his crimson eyes narrowed slightly showed he was listening.

Venti looked back toward the horizon, his gaze distant.

"You know," he continued, his tone quieter now, "the people of Mondstadt talk about Aether and Paimon with fond admiration. They're loved. Celebrated. Heroes of hope."

He shifted his gaze back to Momon, more serious now.

"But you... they respect you, yes. Deeply. They speak your name in awe—but also in whispers. They don't cheer when they say your name. They pause. Because there's fear in their hearts too."

Venti tapped a finger on his wine bottle, emphasizing each word.

"And that, Momon… that's what makes a god. Not love. Not faith. Reverence for your power… and dread of your wrath."

For a moment, silence hung between them. The windmill creaked gently as its massive blades turned, slicing through the air with a rhythmic whoosh.

Then, slowly, Momon turned toward Venti. His towering frame cast a long shadow over the bard, the sun gleaming off his dark, imposing armor. And yet, when he moved, it was with surprising ease. He placed one armored arm over Venti's slim shoulders.

"You're yapping too much, my friend," he said in that deep, composed voice of his. A faint smirk tugged at the edge of his hidden "mouth". "Drink some wine."

Venti blinked, then let out a long, hearty laugh. It rang clearly through the air, like wind chimes in a summer breeze.

"You know what? You're absolutely right," he said with a chuckle, pulling the cork from one of the bottles and inhaling the aroma as if it were sacred incense. "And this windmill is the perfect place to enjoy this gift, far above the streets, away from every human drunkard who thinks they can outsing me in a tavern!"

He took a long, satisfying swig.

"Hope you have a great time, Venti," said Momon, stepping back and preparing to descend.

"May the wind guide you, my friend," Venti replied, raising the bottle in a toast. His expression softened as he watched the dark figure leap from the windmill in a graceful arc, like a shadow passing across the sun.

Momon landed soundlessly on the cobblestones below, the impact barely a whisper. He moved through the crowd like a passing ghost.

Glory was still kneeling on the ground, overwhelmed with joy, her arms raised skyward as tears rolled down her face. Around her, a gathering of astonished citizens and nuns from the Church had formed. They looked upon her with amazement, some wept openly at the sight of her restored vision. Others knelt beside her in prayer, hands clasped as they murmured praises to Barbatos, the Anemo Archon.

"It's a miracle…"

"She can see again!"

"Praise Barbatos!"

"A true blessing from the Anemo Archon!"

Sister Grace knelt beside Glory, tears in her own eyes. "Glory, child… how did this happen?"

"I don't know," Glory wept, still staring skyward. "I was alone… and then someone came… I felt a hand, and then light! I thought I was dreaming, but... It's real. I can see all of you now. I can see everything!"

And she collapsed into a sobbing embrace with the other nuns, who were themselves caught between confusion and divine awe.

They all looked skyward, thanking a god who was, in truth, watching them from a perch with wine in hand and a bittersweet smile.

But the one who had truly restored Glory's vision—who had woven reality itself to heal what should not have been healed—simply walked past. Silent. Unacknowledged.

Momon glanced once at Glory, then at the crowd around her. A faint glint of amusement flickered in his crimson eyes beneath the shadows of his helm. That the credit was going to Barbatos didn't bother him at all. On the contrary, he found it amusing. Deeply amusing.

Let the religious celebrate, he thought. Let them see their god in every miracle, even when their god wasn't the one who moved.

Momon did not need gratitude. He did not crave praise. And certainly not worship.

He was the dark Honorary Knight. He did what he chose, when he chose, for reasons that were his alone.

And as he disappeared into the alleys of Mondstadt, unnoticed by the grateful crowd, the song of the bard echoed faintly behind him, dancing on the wind like a whispered legend in the making.

Among the growing crowd gathered near the cathedral square—common folk on their knees, hands folded in reverent awe as Glory wept over her newfound sight—there stood a solitary figure who did not kneel, did not whisper thanks to the Anemo Archon, nor even move.

Rosaria, Sister of the Church of Favonius, stood beneath the shade of a stone archway, partially veiled in the slanted light of afternoon. Unlike the rest of the sisters who wore their white habits like symbols of peace and piety, Rosaria was draped in a revealing, shadow-toned outfit—a far cry from modesty, and even further from meekness. Her pale skin seemed carved from moonlight, her blood-red eyes half-lidded with perpetual disinterest.

But today, those eyes were fixed—sharp, calculating.

She had noticed him immediately.

He had passed through the edge of the crowd like a black blade through a field of wheat—calm, untouched, and leaving the air colder in his wake. The massive figure clad in ornate, abyss-black armor. The crimson shimmer of his gaze beneath that mask.

Momon.

A name she'd only heard in whispers. A name that stirred unease in even the more battle-hardened knights of the city. A name now tethered to the mysterious power that cloaked Dragonspine in unnatural silence.

She took a slow drag of her cigarette, the ember flaring orange-red before she let the smoke curl from her lips like a sigh of death.

"Tch… so you really showed your face here," she murmured to herself.

The people gasped as Glory cried out, weeping, calling it a miracle—giving thanks to the Archon above. Rosaria's eyes flicked toward her for only a moment. She had no disdain for the blind girl. But this… this wasn't divine intervention.

This was power.

Rosaria narrowed her eyes. No Anemo Archon had descended from the skies. It was him. She had seen the subtle movements—the way Momon touched the girl's forehead, the way she suddenly collapsed into sleep. He had done something. Something beyond her understanding. And then walked away like it meant nothing.

That disturbed her more than anything.

She took one last pull from her cigarette and let it fall, the ash scattering at her heel. Then, slowly, methodically, she followed.

Her heels clicked softly as she moved through the thinning crowd. She didn't need to rush. She had trailed more elusive men through darker places. Her footsteps made no more noise than a breath on the wind. She followed his towering form from a distance, weaving between alleys and buildings like a panther in the brush.

"I've seen enough monsters in the dark," she whispered to herself. "But you… You don't hide in the dark, do you? You walk in daylight. That's what makes you worse."

Her gloved hand slid beneath her cloak, brushing the hilt of her weapon. The chill of it grounded her. Reminded her she was still here. Still watching. Still judging.

Dragonspine. That was her territory.

She had claimed Dragonspine long ago as her personal hunting ground. A place of silence, death, and frigid justice where she eliminated threats to Mondstadt in solitude. And now... he had taken it. Without permission. Without cause.

That alone would've been enough to put him on her list—the quiet, unsanctioned list of names she kept close to her heart. Names of those too dangerous, too arrogant, or too corrupted to be allowed to remain.

And yet, there was more.

She had seen how the others looked at him—how Venti greeted him with familiarity, how Barbara smiled in his presence. Even Jean had spoken his name with careful consideration. It all unsettled Rosaria. Because she didn't trust people who walked the world like they owned it. Especially not those who wore armor like a second skin and never laughed.

She wanted him gone from her hunting grounds.

Chapter Text

The midday sun streamed gently through the grand arched windows of the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, casting warm light across the polished wooden floors and the soft velvet of the furniture. In one of the cozier sitting rooms—tucked just beyond the main corridor where only a few privileged guests were ever welcomed—Acting Grand Master Jean sat on an elegant cream-colored sofa, her posture upright but relaxed for once.

Across from her, lounging with effortless grace, was a woman who radiated mystery and charm like the pages of an old, well-loved fairy tale come to life.

Alice.

She wore a flowing crimson dress with golden embroidery that shimmered subtly with every shift of her posture. A wide-brimmed hat, the color of deep wine, crowned her head, tilted ever so slightly to the side in a playful fashion. Her long, golden-blonde hair cascaded in soft waves down her back, glowing in the sunlight like spun silk. But what drew the eye most were her ears—elegantly pointed, peeking out from beneath her hair like those of a highborn elf, hinting at a bloodline ancient and otherworldly.

The two women were enjoying a rare moment of calm. A porcelain tea set rested between them atop a polished oak table, delicate steam curling up from the cups filled with Mondstadt's finest floral blend.

Jean took a quiet sip, exhaling softly. "So, Alice," she began, a gentle smile touching her lips, "how was the vacation? Did Klee enjoy herself?"

Alice's eyes sparkled with affection at the mention of her daughter. "Oh, Jean, it was wonderful. We explored the coral caves of Watatsumi Island, rode floating jellyfish across Inazuma's shallow waters, and even shared mooncakes with a retired youkai. Klee was practically bouncing out of her boots the entire time."

Jean chuckled, lowering her cup to its saucer with a soft clink. "That sounds like her, alright. I trust there wasn't… too much damage?"

Alice brought a finger to her lips mischievously, her voice dropping into a mock whisper. "Let's just say I had to offer an apology or two to some startled Tanuki. And… well, there may have been a tiny explosion on the edge of Mt. Yougou. But honestly, no one was hurt! The lightning spirit actually seemed to enjoy the spectacle."

Jean gave a good-natured sigh, shaking her head with a smile of fond exasperation. "Goodness, that child is so energetic. She exhausts half of the Knights whenever she visits the courtyard."

Alice laughed, the sound as musical as a windchime. "Oh, you should've seen her when she mistook a sea serpent for a giant fish. She tried to feed it grilled skewers. Grilled skewers, Jean. The serpent actually accepted them."

Jean blinked. "Wait… are you serious?"

Alice leaned back on the couch, swirling her tea. "Completely. I think she named it 'Mr. Long-Noodle.' It followed our boat for a day and a half after that."

Jean buried her face in her hands, chuckling through her fingers. "Archons preserve us…"

The laughter between the two women lingered like the scent of honeyrose tea, warm and easy. For a moment, the burdens of duty, expectations, and distant conflicts faded away. Here, in this small corner of the world, two powerful women—one bound by responsibility, the other unshackled and eternal—simply shared tea and stories.

Alice watched Jean with a knowing glint in her eye. "You know, I do appreciate moments like these," she said softly. "We don't always have to save the world, Jean. Sometimes, we just need to remember what we're protecting."

Jean nodded, her expression serene. "You're right. Thank you, Alice… and thank you for taking such good care of Klee."

Alice smiled, her gaze distant for a heartbeat. "Always. She's my treasure, after all. And wherever we go… there's always more wonder waiting."

For a brief moment, the sitting room of the Knights of Favonius Headquarters was wrapped in a quiet peace. The faint chirping of sparrows filtered in from the gardens outside, and the soft clink of porcelain accompanied the gentle motion of tea being poured once again into two delicate cups. The fragrance of jasmine and chamomile hung in the air like a calming spell.

Jean sat with her back straight but relaxed, her gloved hands cupping the warm teacup, content in the fleeting serenity shared with her old friend. Across from her, Alice—vibrant, eccentric, and infinitely experienced—tilted her head slightly, the ever-playful gleam in her violet eyes dimming for the first time since she'd entered the room.

"By the way…" she said, voice low but calm, "I've heard stories. Whispers, really… about a man in black armor. A traveler cloaked in magic no one can understand. A being who walks through war like it's a garden path."

Jean paused, her teacup hovering midair. Her eyes narrowed slightly, not in suspicion, but in understanding.

"You mean the Honorary Knight… Momon?" she asked, setting her cup down with a soft clink.

Alice's lips curled faintly, but the usual mischievousness had faded. "Yeah. That's the one."

Jean studied her companion, noting something she hadn't noticed before. The light caught the right side of Alice's face just so—revealing a faint discoloration beneath her cheekbone, a subtle, almost imperceptible burn. It was expertly hidden beneath her makeup and golden locks, but Jean was trained to observe details others missed. Her brows knit in concern, but she chose not to press the matter. A quiet thought stirred in her heart: Please don't tell me… Klee's bombs?

Instead, she focused on the question.

"Well…" Jean began slowly, resting her hands on her lap. "He's very mysterious, that's true. He rarely talks about where he comes from or what he truly is. And yes… he can be frightening—ruthless, even. But I do trust him."

Alice raised a brow, intrigued. "Scary and ruthless, and yet you trust him?"

Jean nodded. "Because, despite his methods, he protects people. He does what must be done—sometimes with terrible force—but always with clear purpose. Have you heard what happened in Liyue?"

"I've heard murmurs," Alice replied, her voice like a breeze across still water. "The people there call him a hero. Some even revere him like a god. And the Tianquan… she gifted him the Guyun Stone Forest, didn't she?"

Jean gave a somber nod. "Yes. But the cost of that peace was… horrifying. I spoke with Ningguang several weeks ago, and she confided in me—she's been having nightmares. She can't shake the images of the battlefield. Dozens of Adepti, torn apart. She said their bodies looked as if a force from beyond Teyvat had ripped them to shreds."

Alice's face was impassive, but her fingers tensed slightly on the teacup handle.

"Even here in Mondstadt," Jean continued, "he nearly slew Dvalin. If it weren't for the Anemo Archon—Barbatos—intervening and begging for the dragon's life… I'm not sure what would've happened."

Alice set her cup down with care, the porcelain clinking quietly against the saucer. Her eyes drifted toward the window, gaze distant. The wind rustled the curtains, carrying with it a faint tension that seemed to settle between them.

She already knew all of it. More than what the bards sang or what the records kept. When she and Klee left Inazuma, she had sensed the tremors in the ley lines. Magic pulsing like a second heartbeat through the world. Then came the clash. The battle between Raiden Shogun and Momon—one that shook Inazuma to its core. A battle that echoed across planes. A duel of gods… no, something more than gods.

She had tried to probe him once—just once. A delicate spell meant to brush against his consciousness, to peek behind the mask. But the moment her magic reached out, something—something ancient and violent—slammed back. She remembered the blinding flash, the heat, and the pain that blossomed across her right cheek. A counterattack that felt less like spellcraft and more like a judgment. He hadn't even noticed her intrusion. It was instinct. Automatic defense. And that terrified her.

Even the Archons had never reacted like that.

The burn on her face wasn't from Klee.

It was from him.

But Alice said none of this to Jean. She didn't want to alarm her—or sway her view. She needed to know if Jean's loyalty to this man was blind admiration or something more grounded.

"I see," Alice murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "You really believe in him, don't you?"

Jean nodded. "I believe in what I've seen. He may not be kind in the way we understand kindness, but when Mondstadt was in danger, he stood between us and ruin. And not for praise. Not for gold. He did it because it was necessary."

Alice leaned back, her eyes never leaving Jean. "Even though he could one day turn that same power on Mondstadt?"

Jean's expression didn't waver. "Then I'll be the first to stand in his way. But until that day comes, he has my trust… and my gratitude."

A long silence stretched between them. Then Alice smiled again, though this time, it was laced with something deeper—an emotion somewhere between respect and unease.

"Well…"

Knock, knock…

The sound echoed through the Grandmaster's office like a drop of water in a still pond. The warm afternoon sunlight spilling through the tall windows seemed to hesitate, the air thickening slightly as if the world knew something—someone—unusual was approaching.

The door creaked open, and a knight in standard Mondstadt armor stepped in, his posture stiff with formality.

"Master Jean," he said, voice just above a whisper. "The Honorary Knight Momon has arrived."

Jean blinked in surprise, her brows rising. She hadn't expected him—not today. Her fingers paused mid-motion as she reached for her tea, and for a fleeting moment, she looked caught between relief and uncertainty.

Across from her, Alice had gone rigid.

Her hand gripped the edge of the table unconsciously. Her eyes widened—not with delight, but with something far colder. Recognition. Dread. The name echoed in her thoughts like a scream in a cave.

"What?" her mind gasped.

And then, he entered.

The air in the room shifted. Heavy. Oppressive. It was like a shadow had walked into the sun.

The door opened wider, and through it stepped the dark figure of the one known across nations by whispered titles: The Shadow of Liyue, The Doom of the Adepti, The One Who Humbled Gods.

Momon.

He stood tall—his silhouette sharp against the hallway light, cloaked in a gothic mantle of black that flowed like ink behind him. His armor, obsidian and blood-red inlay, seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Every line of the plating whispered of ancient craftsmanship and lethal precision. But it was the mask that drew Alice's attention most.

Smooth, flawless, and dark as a moonless sky, the face of the mask held no expression—only two crimson dots, like coals beneath ash, glowed faintly in the eye sockets.

Alice felt a chill run down her spine. It wasn't just magic—it was presence. Like the Grim Reaper had taken a detour through Mondstadt on his way to the next soul.

"M-Momon! What a pleasure to see you in Mondstadt again!" Jean stood, her voice just a little too high, betraying her nerves despite the smile on her face.

"Please," said Momon, his voice deep and composed, with a timbre that echoed with unnatural calm, "there is no need to be so formal, Jean. After my departure from Inazuma, I thought it proper to visit Mondstadt, even if only for a short while."

He offered his gauntleted hand, and Jean took it in a respectful shake. Though she tried to hide it, her hand trembled faintly as she let go.

Meanwhile, Alice remained seated, eyes fixed on the dark knight like a scholar before a mythical beast. He was real. He was here. And everything she'd feared—and more—was true. His voice was refined, deliberate, like someone used to commanding halls and battlefields alike. There was a strange nobility in his bearing… and something even stranger beneath it. Something ancient.

"I'm glad you haven't forgotten us," Jean said, trying to reclaim her poise.

"Forgotten?" Momon replied with a soft chuckle, echoing slightly behind the mask. "No, never. Mondstadt is that sweet breath of freedom in a chained world. It is… home. A place I will never forget."

Jean smiled and gestured toward the seating area. "Please, have a seat."

Momon moved with silent, fluid precision—too graceful for a man in such heavy armor. He lowered himself onto the plush couch with quiet ease. The seat didn't even creak under his weight.

Jean turned toward Alice. "Momon, this is Alice. She goes by many titles, but she is a renowned adventurer and one of Mondstadt's dearest friends."

Momon turned his masked face toward Alice and gave the smallest, polite incline of his head. "It's an honor, ma'am. My name is Momon."

Alice's voice came out steady—too steady. "The honor is mine, Honorary Knight. Your deeds… they sound as if pulled from light novels. It's almost hard to believe you're real."

He chuckled again—quietly and unreadably. "Most light novels I've seen tend to exaggerate their heroes. I assure you, I am far less than a legend."

The three of them settled. Jean poured tea for each, placing a cup gently before Momon, who simply observed it.

Of course, he wouldn't drink it. He couldn't. Jean realized this immediately and looked mildly apologetic. "Forgive me. Force of habit."

"No need to apologize," Momon replied. "It is the thought that matters."

The room warmed slightly, but the tension hadn't vanished. Jean took a breath, shifting the conversation forward.

"Momon, I've been meaning to ask—how are things going in your dominion? The knights patrolling the areas near your territory have seen high walls rising beyond the forest."

Momon folded his gloved hands in his lap, calm as ever. "Things are proceeding perfectly well in the Dominion of Nazarick. The territory is secure. Peaceful. And I've recently been granted more land… by the Electro Archon herself."

That made Alice blink.

Jean's brow arched slightly. "More land? Don't tell me… she gave you one of those uninhabitable islands—Tsurumi, perhaps?"

"No, I don't know about the existence of that island," Momon replied. "This one is called Enkanomiya."

Jean froze mid-sip. Her teacup clinked against the saucer.

Alice's eyes sharpened instantly. That name was not common knowledge.

"Wait," Jean said slowly. "Isn't that… beneath Watatsumi Island? A submerged, ancient realm?"

Momon nodded. "Correct. While fighting the Raiden Shogun, I used a bit of spatial restructuring magic to raise the entire region. It now floats above the Inazuman sea as a cluster of skyborne islands under my dominion."

Silence fell.

Jean could only stare. Her lips parted, but no words came out. She was used to the extraordinary by now—but this? This was on a scale beyond Archons, beyond history.

Alice, meanwhile, was staring at him intently. Not in awe. Not in fear. But in the calculation.

He wasn't just a warrior. Not just a sorcerer. He was a world-changer.

And now, he was sitting across from her like it was afternoon tea.

Jean finally exhaled. "You lifted an entire hidden realm… into the sky…"

"Correct," Momon said again, as if it were no more significant than setting up camp.

Alice was speechless.

The burn on her cheek itched again, not from pain, but from memory.

And now he sat across from her. Calm. Polite. Regal. A man? A monster? A god?

What are you, really, Momon?

"Forgive me," he began, his tone composed yet faintly introspective. "I unintentionally avoided the question about the walls you mentioned earlier."

Jean leaned forward with polite interest, still trying to navigate the enigma that was Momon. Alice, beside her, was watching like a hawk—silent, calculating, and more alert than before.

"Yes, the old Mondstadt has been completely transformed," Momon continued, his voice deep and unfaltering, "into a vast city. Towering structures. Reinforced walls. Etc."

Jean blinked. "A city? But… Old Mondstadt is just ruins. Ancient stones swallowed by the wind and moss. What do you mean by 'transformed'?"

Alice glanced at Jean, then turned her eyes back to Momon, her interest piqued. She, too, had seen Old Mondstadt—an overgrown echo of a forgotten age. For someone to claim it now stood rebuilt as a city? It defied reason.

Momon inclined his head slightly. "Empty, of course," he clarified, a trace of amusement in his tone, like a teacher explaining something to a curious student. "Before I departed Mondstadt for Liyue, I left a handful of constructs—guardians, if you will. Silent sentinels meant to ward off treasure hoarders and monsters who might trespass into those ancient lands. But I gave them another purpose as well."

He paused, as if remembering something that had genuinely surprised even him.

"I instructed them to clean. To rebuild what could be restored. I expected minor repairs at best… a cleared pathway, perhaps a few restored watchtowers. But when I returned from Inazuma, I found something else entirely. A city of marble and obsidian rising from the bones of the past. Clean, orderly, fortified."

He chuckled faintly then—a strange sound, low and brief, like iron cracking gently in the wind. It wasn't mocking. It was... genuine amusement.

"I must admit, even I was impressed."

Jean's mouth parted slightly in awe. "That's… incredible. But how? Did you really build all of that with magic alone?"

Alice leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "You must have used advanced constructs… enchanted tools, perhaps?"

Momon tilted his head toward Alice. "Yes… mostly."

His answer was careful, deliberately sparse.

He wasn't lying. Much of it had been created through magic—summoning spells, transmutation circles, arcane scaffolding, and illusionary frameworks rendered solid by layered spellwork. But the bulk of the labor, the ceaseless work of rebuilding—of—carrying stone, shaping walls, reinforcing beams—had been done by his undead.

Skeleton work teams. Wights acting as engineers. Death Knights maintaining the city perimeter. Even high-level Elder Liches had been tasked with magical maintenance.

But such details… were best left unsaid.

Jean raised a hand to her chest. "The people of Mondstadt… they have no idea."

"I had no intention of claiming the land for rule," Momon answered. "I did what I felt needed to be done. A ruined legacy, forgotten by time, deserved preservation—not decay. And besides…" He leaned back slightly, the glow in his eyes dimming just a touch. "The structures now serve as training grounds. Sanctuaries for my vassals. I even placed a few protective wards in Dragonspine."

Alice's eyes narrowed slightly. "Dragonspine?" she echoed.

"Yes. I extended similar instructions to the region. Though I haven't returned there yet, I imagine the terrain has shifted subtly. I reinforced several caves, ordered the clearing of corrupted ice crystals, and set up magical heating zones for explorers who might find themselves lost."

Jean looked utterly speechless now. "You've… done more for those regions than the Knights of Favonius have in decades…"

Momon remained still, his voice calm as ever. "I only do what I can. There is little glory in watching lands rot and histories crumble."

There was a pause. A long one.

Then Alice leaned back slowly, her arms crossing—though not in defiance. In contemplation.

"And the architecture?" Alice asked again, her tone like a blade wrapped in silk. "Does it resemble the original Mondstadt… or something else entirely?"

"Kinda."

Jean finally broke the silence with a soft breath. "I'd love to see it one day. If you would allow a visit."

"You will always be welcomed, Jean," said Momon.

"I have a question," Alice said suddenly, breaking the rhythm of the conversation with a voice that rang like silver bells—light, yet sharp enough to command attention.

Momon turned his masked gaze toward her. The faint crimson glow from behind the hollows of his helm seemed to flare slightly in interest. He gave a subtle nod, his chin rising in approval—a silent invitation to speak.

"I've heard many stories about the kind of magic you wield," Alice began, folding her hands neatly over her crossed legs. "Tales of overwhelming force, destruction on a scale beyond comprehension, spells that reshape reality itself… So, I must ask—are you a sorcerer?"

The room fell silent for a heartbeat, as even the faint ticking of Jean's clock on the shelf seemed to still.

Momon's reply came in his usual calm tone, resonating with a quiet strength. "I prefer the term Magic Caster," he said. "But yes, if it helps you understand more easily, then… I suppose you could call me a sorcerer."

Alice's lips curled into a smile, one of genuine delight and curiosity. "Well, then this is quite the moment for me. I myself am a witch, though I tend to wander far beyond the usual labels. Still… meeting a magic caster of your caliber?" She gave a light laugh. "It's an honor."

Momon leaned back slightly, one arm resting over the side of the chair. His voice carried a trace of intrigue. "A witch, hmm? That's quite surprising. Especially from an elf."

The atmosphere in the room changed.

Jean blinked and looked between them. "Wait… what do you mean by that?"

Alice's eyes narrowed slightly—not with anger, but with calculated interest. "Excuse me?" she asked, though her tone was steady. "Did you just say… 'elf'?"

Momon turned his masked face toward her more directly now, and the crimson dots within pulsed once again, like coals stoked by an unseen fire.

"Yes," he said simply. "Your physical traits are unmistakable. Long, tapered ears. Your complexion, the tone of your voice, your aura… And I'd wager you've been alive for quite some time—centuries, perhaps?"

Alice raised an eyebrow. "You're very perceptive. Most people would mistake me for an exceptionally youthful woman with unusual ears and a whimsical nature."

Momon shrugged. "I've encountered many elves in my time. Though… most of them favored druidic arts. Nature magic. Taming beasts, calling storms, healing the wounded through the flow of life. Rarely have I seen one walk the path of destructive magic, especially the kind you seem capable of."

Alice tilted her head, the corner of her mouth twitching into a small smirk. "So you're saying I'm… unorthodox?"

"Exceptional," Momon replied, not missing a beat.

Jean finally interjected, her brows drawn in confusion. "Hold on… elf? That's what your kind is called, Alice?"

Alice turned toward Jean with a soft chuckle, the glint of amusement sparkling in her eyes.

"I don't talk about it much," she said, her tone warmer now. "But yes. 'Elf' is the true name of my race. We're not very common in Teyvat. Most people simply call me a witch or an eccentric genius and leave it at that. But what Momon said is accurate—I am, in fact, an elf."

Jean leaned back slightly, absorbing this revelation. "I had no idea. I've never met anyone like you and Klee before."

"You wouldn't have," Alice said gently. "We tend to live in isolation. Our lives are long, so we see civilizations rise and fall… but I've always had a fondness for humanity. For Mondstadt."

"Now I understand why you show up rarely in Mondstadt, because you want to be on your own for some time." said Jean.

"Well, ladies," Momon said as he slowly rose from the sofa, his black cloak shifting like liquid shadow over his armor, "I must take my leave."

Jean looked mildly surprised, but nodded with understanding. Alice, however, leaned forward slightly, visibly disappointed. "Oh? Why now, Momon? The conversation was just getting interesting," she said, her tone light but laced with genuine curiosity. "I was rather enjoying our little… exchange."

Momon's masked face tilted slightly toward her, his crimson eye-lights pulsing gently. "As was I. But time doesn't wait, especially when Aether and Paimon are likely halfway across Sumeru's forest by now. I've lingered long enough."

Jean opened her mouth to speak, but before she could respond, the door to the office burst open with a dramatic slam.

The room tensed.

Standing in the doorway was Lisa Minci, the Head Librarian of the Knights of Favonius—radiant as ever, but visibly flushed. Her cheeks were touched with a rosy hue, her emerald eyes flashing with excitement and something deeper. Her hands were on her hips, but the moment her gaze met Momon's imposing figure, her stern entrance softened into a radiant smile.

"Hey there, cutie," Lisa purred, her voice melodic, teasing—yet warm.

"Oh, Lisa," Momon replied with a slight incline of his head, his deep voice almost sounding softer. "I was just about to come and see you."

Before another word could be spoken, Lisa strode forward—graceful, confident, her heels clicking softly on the polished floor. Without hesitation, she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his cold, armored frame. Her cheek pressed against the black metal of his breastplate, her fingers gently resting on the ornate grooves of his armor as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The room fell into a stunned silence.

Jean blinked, a bit wide-eyed but quickly composed herself. Alice, on the other hand, was visibly startled. Her golden eyes narrowed ever so slightly, her lips parting just a bit as she tried to process what she was seeing. Wait... what? she thought. Did she just... hug him? Just like that? And he didn't even flinch? Are they… a couple? Since when?

Momon remained still for a moment, then slowly raised a gloved hand and placed it on Lisa's back, careful not to apply too much pressure. He wasn't used to physical affection—especially in armor—but he made no move to stop her.

Lisa looked up at him, still holding the hug. "If I hadn't sensed that familiar aura of yours near the gates, you would've vanished again, wouldn't you?"

"I was planning to speak with you before departing. I only stopped here to speak with Jean and… meet a fascinating new friend."

Alice cleared her throat, raising an elegant brow. "I suppose I should be honored to be included in such a brief itinerary," she said with dry humor. "But I must admit, Lisa… I didn't realize you and the Honorary Knight were so... close."

Lisa glanced at Alice with a smirk, her arms still loosely around Momon. "Oh, sweet Alice," she said playfully, "some of us prefer to really get to know our heroes. Especially the ones who drop ancient dragons from the sky like they're swatting flies."

Jean stifled a soft laugh behind her hand, not out of mockery, but sheer amusement at the situation. "Lisa…" she said, warningly but with affection.

Lisa finally pulled back, though her hand lingered for a moment on Momon's arm before she let it slide away. She stepped to his side, standing with a casual elegance, though anyone paying attention could feel the subtle possessiveness in her stance.

Momon turned toward her and nodded. "Would you walk with me for a bit? I have only a few minutes before I must depart."

Lisa's smile widened. "It would be my pleasure."

As the two began to head toward the doorway, Alice sat back slowly on the sofa, arms crossed. Her expression was unreadable, though her eyes glimmered with a new curiosity—one not rooted in arcane theory or magical prowess, but something far more personal.

"So the dark being has a heart," she thought. "Or something close to it."

Jean watched them go, then turned to Alice. "I suppose he really is full of surprises."

Alice smirked faintly. "More than he lets on. And I need more of him."

Momon walked alongside Lisa, their footsteps oddly synchronized. Despite the contrast in their appearances—his towering, armored form exuding silent menace, and her graceful, sultry poise gleaming in the daylight—they looked strangely harmonious. Almost like a couple. Passersby certainly thought so. Knights on patrol and civilians alike instinctively stepped aside, giving them a wide berth. No one wanted to draw the attention of the infamous magic caster cloaked in black.

Their destination was a small, cozy place nestled in the heart of Mondstadt: the Cat's Tail Tavern. As they approached, a few of the tavern's resident cats lounging in the shade scattered abruptly, fur puffed and tails bristling. Their feline instincts screamed danger in the presence of Momon. He didn't move aggressively, didn't even glance their way, yet the aura that surrounded him—cold, ancient, and vast—was more than enough to send them fleeing.

Lisa chuckled lightly at the sight, brushing her hair behind one ear as she sat at a table outside the tavern. "Oh, dear. You still frighten animals, I see."

Momon sat opposite her, the wood beneath his armored weight creaking slightly but holding firm. "I suppose they're more attuned than most. They sense what others ignore."

Lisa raised an eyebrow as she crossed her legs with casual elegance. "And what is it exactly they're sensing, I wonder? A dark secret beneath that polished breastplate?"

Momon didn't answer immediately. Instead, he glanced off toward the plaza across from the tavern, his crimson eyes narrowing behind his mask. "Lisa… You mentioned earlier that you went to Sumeru recently. Was that during my time away in Liyue and Inazuma?"

Lisa nodded, leaning her cheek into one hand. "Mmhmm. Right after you… did what you did for me. When you lifted that curse festering in my heart, I felt a kind of freedom I hadn't known in years. So I went to Sumeru—visited some of my old classmates from the Akademiya. Caught up, argued about philosophy and magical theory, had a few too many drinks. The usual."

"I see," Momon said, his voice distant as he still peered past her. "It seems I missed a great deal while I was gone."

But his crimson gaze had already shifted slightly—toward the Good Hunter Tavern just a short walk across the square. Standing precariously on one of the wooden tables was a woman clad in black and red, watching them. Again.

That same eerie nun from before. Momon had noticed her shadow trailing him since before he entered the Knights' Headquarters. Even now, her gaze pierced through the crowd and locked directly on him, hidden beneath that veil of indifference she always wore.

Before Lisa could respond, Momon's tone shifted. It was quiet, but suddenly laced with subtle tension. "Lisa."

"Hm?" she turned her head slightly. "What is it, darling?"

"There's someone watching us. Again."

Lisa's smile vanished. "Again?"

He gave a slight nod, his posture calm, but clearly focused. "The same woman I noticed earlier—back when I first arrived in Mondstadt. She's been lingering nearby ever since. Right now, she's standing on a table at Good Hunter. Don't turn around. She may not yet know we've noticed her."

Lisa's brows furrowed ever so slightly, her smile fading into a subtle frown. "Really now?" she said, voice sharp as velvet laced with iron. "Some mystery woman has the gall to stalk my undead knight? I don't like it."

"Neither do I," Momon said, lowering his gaze.

Before any plans could be made, a familiar voice interrupted them.

"We–Welcome to Cat's Tail Tavern!" came the high-pitched, nervous voice of a young girl.

Both turned slightly to see Diona, the cat-eared bartender, standing stiff as a board beside their table. She was clearly trembling in Momon's presence, clutching her notepad like a lifeline.

"What can I ge–get for ya?" she stammered.

Lisa offered a warm, reassuring smile. "Diona, my dear, I'll have a Delicious Rainbow Aster~ You've always made it just the way I like it."

Momon gave a small nod. "The same for me."

Diona bowed quickly, her eyes darting to Momon's mask like he might explode at any moment. "O-okay! Drinks will be ready in a minute!" She practically sprinted back into the tavern.

Lisa watched her go with amusement. "Poor girl. I think she almost fainted just standing near you."

"She's perceptive," Momon replied.

Once she was gone, Lisa leaned closer again, her voice low. "So what's the plan, dearest? Want me to send a lightning bolt her way?"

Momon's tone became thoughtful. "I want you to write something… just a short message."

Lisa's eyes sparkled. "A letter? How wonderfully dramatic." She pulled a small notepad from her satchel and began scribbling in elegant script with a purple quill enchanted to float beside her.

When Diona returned a few moments later, balancing the drinks with care, Momon turned toward her.

"Little girl," he said, not unkindly.

"Wh–what is it?" she asked, doing her best to stay composed.

"I have a request," he said. "Could you take my drink to that woman sitting on the table at Good Hunter?"

Diona blinked, then followed his line of sight. "Oh. Her?" she asked. She wasn't entirely sure what he wanted with that woman, but something about her also gave Diona the chills.

"Yes," said Momon. "And give her this letter too."

Lisa handed Diona the note with a sly grin, her handwriting sealed with a flick of purple wax. With cautious steps, she carried the tray across the square, approaching the familiar figure clad in dark colors—Rosaria, the unorthodox nun of the Church of Favonius. Rosaria raised an eyebrow as Diona arrived, clearly unamused.

"Hello, Rosaria," Diona greeted her.

Rosaria squinted. "What do you want?"

Diona pointed back toward Momon. "This… um, Delicious Rainbow Aster is from that guy over there."

Rosaria's gaze snapped to the table where Lisa and Momon sat. Momon lifted Lisa's drink slightly in a silent toast, his crimson gaze locked on hers even from a distance.

For a brief second, Rosaria felt an instinctual chill crawl up her spine.

Diona placed the drink down and slipped the note beneath it, then quickly scurried away. Rosaria picked up the folded paper and opened it.

Her eyes scanned the message. And then—widened.

"You may continue to creep after me, but know this… It's not going to end well for you."

Rosaria's breath hitched. She crushed the letter in her gloved hand and stood abruptly, walking away without a word, leaving the untouched drink behind.

"Well now… that was satisfying," she purred. "My, I wonder what dear Rosaria was hoping to find while stalking you." She glanced sidelong at Momon. "You do attract quite the variety of women, darling. Even Alice wanted to spend more time with you. I'm starting to feel just a bit possessive~"

Momon gave a short, unreadable hum. "I don't enjoy being watched."

Lisa smirked. "Maybe. But I do enjoy watching you."

He turned toward her, that unearthly crimson gaze peering through the mask. "That much… I believe."

Suddenly, the voice of Thanatos called via message while Momon was still having a good time with Lisa.

"My lord, there is something important to discuss…"

Chapter Text

The blizzard howled like a beast in torment across the frozen heights of Dragonspine, its icy breath scouring the rocks and burying the landscape in white oblivion. Most mortals would perish within minutes in such a place—flesh freezing, breath stolen by the cold—but for Momon, the Supreme Being cloaked in magic and mystery, the cold was not a hindrance. It was a memory. A reminder of another realm—of Helheim, the bleak and unwelcoming world of death in the realm of YGGDRASIL. This place, untamed and untouched, felt almost like home.

A pulse beat beneath the earth. A thudding rhythm, ancient and wrong, echoing faintly underfoot. The very ground responded to the heart of something vast and dead—but not gone.

With a silent thought, Momon shifted from the city of Mondstadt to this forsaken land. The air shimmered, and with a crackle of magic and a burst of frost, he stood upon the ice once more.

His heavy boots crunched against the snow as he descended into the mountain cave—an ancient wound in the side of Dragonspine. There, deep within, was a scene no living soul should witness: the buried heart of the corrupted dragon, Durin, still pulsing with cursed life despite its destruction. It cast a sickly red glow across the icy walls, illuminating the armored figures kneeling in reverence.

Dozens of undead stood arrayed in perfect formation. Black armor clung to withered limbs and rotting sinew. Tattered banners hung silently in the still air. Yet none dared raise their gaze. As soon as Momon entered, all fell to their knees—save one.

Thanatos, the Grim Reaper of the Nazarick Dominion, stood tall. The tall skeletal figure clad in dark robes, armor, and a massive war-scythe of obsidian and bone across his back. His skull bowed deeply, and with an elegant sweep of his arm, he gestured toward the throne fashioned of obsidian and dragonbone that stood before the beating heart.

"My lord," he intoned, his voice like the whisper of wind across a tomb, "your throne awaits."

Without a word, Momon walked past his kneeling legion and sat. With a slow gesture, he removed his mask—revealing the gleaming white skull beneath the black hood. A silence settled over the chamber, reverent and heavy.

In front of him lay a long stone table, and on it, a map of Mondstadt—marked with crimson sigils, routes, and hidden runes that only the undead of the Dominion could decipher. But Momon's attention was elsewhere.

He turned his skull slightly to the side, his gaze falling upon a boy standing at the far edge of the room.

The child looked no older than thirteen. Pale, barefoot, clad in dark leather armor. His white hair hung like strands of snow, and his eyes were a dim, sickly black. Yet he stood still—so still it was eerie, like a statue with a heartbeat.

"I apologize for interrupting your journey, Lord Momon," Thanatos began, but the Supreme Being raised a hand—an armored gauntlet shimmering with arcane power. The silence returned.

"I'll hear your report, Thanatos," Momon said calmly, but his tone grew sharper, cold as the wind outside. "But first… I want you to explain that." He raised a bony finger and pointed at the boy.

The reaper turned slowly. "The child?" Thanatos asked.

"Yes," Momon replied. "That boy. The one with the face of someone who should be playing in a field, not standing among the dead. Who is he?"

Thanatos straightened, placing a skeletal hand over his chest. "We call him White, my lord. Berserker discovered his remains beneath a tree, buried in snow and ice. His body was tied to the trunk… abandoned, condemned to freeze over what we estimate to be several centuries. Whoever left him meant for him to die alone in agony. I believed it fitting to grant him a second chance—so I raised him."

Momon's eye sockets narrowed, as if glaring without eyes. "You ghoulified a child? Are you mad?"

Thanatos hesitated. "My lord… respectfully, White has proven to be useful. He uncovered the very matter we summoned you here to discuss."

"Thanatos…" Momon's voice was low, dangerous. "Do you even begin to understand the implications of what you've done?"

The reaper's head bowed. "I… do now, my lord."

Momon rose slowly from the throne, each movement echoing with power as the wind beyond the cave howled louder. His cloak billowed with the motion.

"That is a child, Thanatos. A boy, whose death may be ancient, yes, but this land is full of beings who transcend time. You know that just as well as I do. There are immortals in Mondstadt—elves, dragons, fae. I just spoke with an elf not an hour ago. What if she recognizes him? What if the Knights of Favonius learn that a child now serves in the ranks of the undead Dominion?"

Thanatos dropped to one knee. "My lord, I did not consider—"

"You didn't," Momon snapped. "You acted as if we are above consequence. We are not. Not here."

A soft voice broke the tense silence.

"M'lord…"

Momon turned toward the boy. White stood timidly, his small hands clenched into trembling fists at his side.

"If my presence brings you shame, if my existence will trouble your great plans… I will destroy myself now. I was nothing before this. Less than nothing. If it pleases you, I will return to dust."

The chamber fell deathly silent. Even the wind seemed to pause.

Momon approached slowly. The boy stood motionless, bracing for punishment.

But instead, White felt a gentle weight upon his head—a gauntleted hand, resting softly. A slow, deliberate pat.

"Child," he said calmly. "You have done nothing wrong. This was not your choice, nor your sin to bear. Thanatos acted in ignorance, and you… you were simply a victim of fate, long before I ever arrived. There is no need for you to die a second time."

White looked up, and for a moment, the ghost of a smile flickered in his dead eyes. He bowed low, reverently. "Thank you, my lord."

"Return to your place," Momon said gently, turning away.

White did as commanded, rejoining the undead ranks. He stood taller now.

Momon turned back to Thanatos. "Let this be the last time you make such a decision without my approval. Children are off-limits. No matter the circumstance. If you find another… You bring them to me directly. Is that understood?"

Thanatos struck the ground with his scythe and bowed so low his forehead touched the cold stone. "Crystal clear, Lord Momon. I will not fail you again."

"Good."

Momon returned to the throne and sat once more, his mask still off. The red pulse of Durin's heart beat steadily behind him, like a war drum in the deep.

"Now…" he said after a pause, the chill of command returning to his voice. "Tell me what this boy has discovered."

Thanatos walked to the table and pointed to the map.

"My Lord," the Grim Reaper said in his cold, echoing voice, "we dispatched a few of our ghostly scouts to this region here."

Thanatos raised a bony hand and pointed a single skeletal finger at a red-circled location near the center. The light in the cave dimmed, as if even the shadows leaned in to listen.

Momon, seated upon the jagged golden throne carved into the ice-ribbed walls of the heart-cave of Dragonspine, leaned slightly forward. Behind him, the immense, still-beating heart of Durin pulsed with a low, thunderous rhythm, like the breathing of a slumbering god. Its rhythmic thudding echoed through the cave, a sound that resonated with the presence of death and ancient power.

His glowing crimson eyes locked on the circled location, and a sliver of memory stirred in the depths of his mind. That place… was where he first emerged into this world.

He remembered it well—the cold wind howling through the ruined amphitheater, the broken columns swallowed by vines, and the confusion in his mind as he tried to comprehend where he had landed. That day had marked the beginning of his journey in Teyvat, and he hadn't lingered long at that location, nor returned—until now.

Still, Momon said nothing. He simply watched, his skeletal features unreadable beneath the heavy presence of his will.

Thanatos continued, his voice steady. "The ghosts confirmed that ancient ruins do indeed lie there, remnants of what may have once been a colosseum. But more concerning than the ruins, my Lord, is the presence of the Fatui. Not a small scouting force, nor a temporary camp…" He paused for emphasis. "But a fortified base, swarming with soldiers. At least six hundred of them."

Momon's gaze narrowed slightly, his grip tightening on the armrest of the throne. The temperature in the cave seemed to drop further, if such a thing were even possible.

"They are establishing something, preparing for more than a mere observation post. Their intent is clear: this is a staging ground," said Thanatos grimly. "They must be planning to interfere with our Dominion."

Without a word, Momon raised one hand and with a smooth motion summoned an object from his inventory—a large, mystical artifact known as the Mirror of Remote Viewing. Standing nearly a meter tall and oval-shaped, it was framed in bronze, adorned with serpentine carvings of forgotten gods. The surface shimmered like the surface of black water before glowing with arcane energy.

With a mere thought, the mirror activated. The air around it crackled. Within seconds, the live image of the mountainous Dragonspine terrain came into focus—high above, as if seen by the eyes of an invisible god.

Thanatos stepped aside, bowing his skull reverently.

Momon waved his gauntleted hand slowly, commanding the mirror with invisible strings of magic. The perspective shifted, gliding smoothly across the sky until it soared across the plains of Mondstadt, homing in on the Thousand Winds Temple.

A few quick gestures, and the image zoomed, closer and closer—until the Fatui encampment came into full view. Long black tents arranged in a tight, military formation, forming rows around the ancient ruins. Smoke rose from cookfires. Barricades of steel and wood had been erected at strategic points. Dozens of patrols marched in rhythm, and the banners of the Fatui flapped in the wind like vultures circling a battlefield.

One tent, however, caught Momon's eye immediately. Larger than the others and draped in crimson silks, it stood at the center of the encampment like a throne hall. At its entrance, a woman clad in elaborate black and red robes stood, speaking to several kneeling soldiers. Her long, pale hair was tied in elegant braids, and her eyes burned with icy disdain. Even through the mirror, her aura of cruelty was unmistakable.

"Well, hello there…" Momon murmured with a hint of venomous amusement. His red dots gleamed brighter as he zoomed further until her face filled the mirror.

Thanatos tilted his skull curiously. "You know her, my Lord?"

Momon's voice was calm, but there was a cold edge to it. "Yes. I've met her before… La Signora. One of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. I encountered her in Mondstadt, outside the cathedral itself. She stole something very important—an artifact tied directly to the Anemo Archon. Later, I crossed paths with her again in Liyue, but I chose not to make a scene. She's… dangerous, yes, but subtle. She's been to Inazuma as well. Her trail of manipulation is long."

He tapped a finger against the mirror's frame. "I thought she was off to stir chaos in another nation. But it seems her role now is to solidify the Fatui's control here while the other Harbingers continue the hunt for the remaining Gnosis."

A low, guttural snarl erupted from the shadows of the cave.

"This harlot is a Harbinger?" growled Berserker, stepping forward. His massive frame, clad in twisted, cruel armor, radiated fury. "Then she will bleed."

Momon didn't react at first, but then slowly stood from the throne, his cape of darkness trailing behind him like liquid shadow. The undead surrounding the cave—Death Knights, Death Warriors, Nazguls, and other undead warriors—began to rise, snarling and growling like a pack of wolves sensing blood.

"Yes, Berserker," Momon said, his voice echoing with dark resolve. "She is one of the Harbingers. And now she has returned to my doorstep, staking her claim to a land I once emerged into as a stranger."

He turned his skull toward the mirror one last time and pointed directly at the image of the Fatui encampment.

"And now… we will crush these cockroaches under the boots of death."

A chorus of growls and roars erupted from the undead ranks. Weapons were raised, armor clattered, and ancient warhorns sounded low from the depths of the cave.

The undead of Dragonspine, under the will of their Supreme Lord, had been awakened.

Upon the windswept night skies of Mondstadt, a storm arrived—not with warning, nor with reason.

Earlier, the heavens had been tranquil. The stars shimmered like diamonds scattered across an indigo canvas. It was the kind of night that inspired songs from bards and laughter from those sitting in the open terraces of the taverns. But in mere moments, that peace fractured. No rain fell, yet furious winds whipped through the cobbled streets, sending loose shutters flapping and signs creaking ominously. The sky roared with thunder that never ceased—an unending growl that sent tremors through the earth.

Crackling bolts of lightning danced like serpents in the far-off sky, striking the edges of distant cliffs and hills with unnatural frequency. It was not the storm of the Archons or of nature—it felt wrong. It felt as if the heavens themselves had been disturbed by a presence too great for the world to ignore.

Atop the city walls, the Knights of Favonius stood vigilant, shielding their eyes from windborne debris, their faces etched with confusion and unease. None among them had seen such a storm—without rain, but with the might of a god's fury. Acting swiftly, they issued commands.

"Everyone off the streets!" one Knight bellowed. "Taverns are closed! Go home and stay there!"

Mondstadt's people, many of whom had been drinking and singing mere hours ago, now stood in silent groups, uncertain, peering into the heavens. They could feel it in their bones—that this was no mere storm. It was an omen.

Far from the city, beyond the whispering forests and crumbled ruins, lay the ancient amphitheater of the Thousand Winds Temple.

Here, in what had once been a place of spectacle and bloodshed, the Fatui had established a camp. Their tents clung to the temple ruins like parasitic growths. Beneath the storm, their Skirmishers moved like disciplined insects, working quickly to reinforce their canvas shelters before the wind ripped them apart.

Inside the shattered stone halls of the amphitheater—chambers once used to house destitute gladiators destined for death—La Signora stood alone in the flickering light of a fire.

Books were strewn in towering piles around her, their covers torn and pages yellowed with age. Dust clung to everything. She had spent days hunting through these tomes, ancient records and forgotten texts, all for one purpose.

Her gloved hand snapped another book shut, her red eyes narrowing in contempt.

"Useless," she hissed.

With a flick of her wrist, the book flew behind her and crashed into a growing pile of discarded volumes. She stared at the remaining stacks—dozens more still unread—and let out a low, weary sigh.

"I'm wasting time," she growled under her breath. Then, louder— "There is no record. No trace. Not even a whisper of that bastard's existence!"

The female Fatui agent standing by the chamber wall stiffened. The air itself seemed to shrink around Signora's fury, and the heat from the fire flared unnaturally. The agent hesitated before speaking.

"My lady…" she said cautiously, "What if… he's not ancient?"

Signora turned sharply, her gaze as sharp as a blade. "What?"

The woman flinched, but stood her ground. "What if… he's not from our history at all? Or perhaps… he simply never did anything the historians found worthy of recording."

Signora's expression twisted. "Impossible. Our archives contain records of the most trivial events. Petty mages with laughable power have entire chapters dedicated to them. And yet him? Not a single line. Nothing. Nothing!" she spat.

"Then perhaps that is what makes him dangerous," the agent murmured. "He doesn't belong in the recorded history of Teyvat."

Signora said nothing, her lips pursed tightly.

"With all due respect, my lady… he's traveling with the Honorary Knight. And Il Capitano has confirmed the boy's identity beyond doubt. That's the twin—the brother of the Fourth Descender. The one from Khaenri'ah… five hundred years ago."

A beat of silence passed between them. Signora's eyes flickered with uncertainty for the first time.

"That boy's connection to Khaenri'ah is unquestionable," the agent continued, lowering her voice. "But the entity known as Momon—he's a complete enigma. A masked being of untold power… with no history, no origin, and no known allegiance. Not to the gods, not to the Abyss, not even to Celestia."

She stepped closer to the fire, her voice low and deliberate.

"My lady… what if he did not come from this world at all? What if he came from beyond the stars?"

Signora stared into the flames. For a long moment, the only sound in the chamber was the crackle of the fire and the distant howl of wind screaming through broken pillars.

"… The Damselette is considering that possibility," Signora finally admitted, her voice quiet. "But it is nearly impossible to track him. He leaves no traces—no aura we can sense. He appears and vanishes like a shadow beyond our reach."

"Then… what do we gain, my lady, from discovering who he truly is?" the agent asked gently.

Signora's gaze lingered on the fire, as if trying to divine some answer from its depths. Her voice, when it came, was softer… but edged with something else. Fear, perhaps.

"I don't know," she admitted. "Only that The Jester and Her Majesty—they are adamant. For reasons they will not share."

Suddenly, a sharp sound tore through the thick stone silence of the underground chamber—a burst of gunfire echoed from above, distant yet urgent, followed by the faint but unmistakable scream of a dying man.

The firelight in the chamber flickered violently, casting Signora's shadow across the ancient, dust-ridden walls as she slowly raised her head. Her eyes narrowed.

"What was that?" she muttered.

Another volley of gunshots followed, louder this time, and now joined by frantic shouting.

Signora's gaze snapped toward the stairwell. "What is happening?" she demanded, her voice laced with irritation and confusion.

The female Fatui agent near her had already drawn her weapon and was halfway to the door. "Gunfire. Screams. It's coming from the surface, my Lady!"

Outside, beneath the roaring sky and howling winds, the chaos unfolded in a whirlwind of elemental fury and primal violence. The storm had not calmed—instead, it had intensified. Blades of wind screamed through the broken architecture of the Thousand Winds Temple as thunder shook the very earth, and lightning lit the night like day for heartbeats at a time.

Fatui Skirmishers sprinted through the swirling storm, their cloaks flapping like torn banners, weapons drawn, faces hardened. Mud splashed under their boots, and the flickering blue and orange of elemental energy clashed violently in the darkened ruins.

"Move! MOVE!" a Skirmisher captain bellowed as another squad joined the fray. "Formation Alpha! Reinforce the outer perimeter!"

But what met them at the entrance of the amphitheater sent a chill down their spines.

A tide of monsters surged forth through the ruins—Hilichurls, in numbers not seen since the worst days of the cataclysm. The primitive war-cries of the masked creatures echoed into the night, carried by the wind like some ancient chant of vengeance. They moved in a chaotic but overwhelming formation—driven not by instinct, but by order.

"What in the name of the Tsaritsa—?!" a Skirmisher muttered, raising his rifle.

"How are there so many of them?!" shouted another, as they took aim and opened fire.

A thunderous barrage of bullets tore into the horde. Sparks flew, blood sprayed, and some hilichurls fell—dozens even—but they did not stop. The remaining creatures pressed forward, climbing over the corpses of their kin like mindless beasts driven by some dark command.

Then the arrows came—dozens at once—darkened by Pyro, chilled by Cryo, crackling with Electro, and shrouded in Geo dust. Explosions rang out across the battlefield as elemental slimes were hurled toward the Fatui lines.

"SHIELD WALL!" roared a Vanguard.

An Anemoboxer Vanguard stepped forward, slamming his fists together. A gust of controlled wind burst from his gauntlets, forming a swirling Anemo barrier that caught an exploding Pyro slime midair and scattered the flames.

"THEY'RE COORDINATING THEIR ELEMENTS!" someone cried. "How are they so calculated?!"

Fatui Pyro Agents ignited their blades and dashed into the melee, slashing through hilichurls with precision and rage. Electrohammer Vanguards slammed their crackling hammers into the enemy ranks, sending arcs of lightning through the monster horde. The battle raged under the storm, a canvas of chaos painted in blood and light.

A crimson splash stained the ground as a samachurl collapsed with its skull crushed by the hammer of an Anemoboxer. He turned in time to witness one of his own comrades—a rifleman—being struck by a massive club and launched across the courtyard like a ragdoll, his body crashing into the amphitheater wall with a sickening crunch.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" the Vanguard shouted.

Through the smoke and storm, giants emerged—Lawachurls and Mitachurls stomping through the field like titans. Abyss Mages floated behind them, casting their cursed spells into the ranks of the Fatui. Then, even more disturbing shapes appeared—slender, agile figures dancing through the chaos like death itself.

"The Rogues—Hydro and Anemo!" screamed a Fatui soldier as he watched his squadmates get cut down in an elegant, lethal blur.

The rogues moved like shadows—spinning, slicing, and vanishing into the wind. One by one, the Pyro Agents fell, their vision last filled with water blades or spinning scythes of Anemo energy.

"We're getting overwhelmed!" a commander shouted. "PULL THE WOUNDED BACK TO THE INNER CIRCLE!"

Orders were followed swiftly. The surviving Fatui troops retreated into the amphitheater ruins, dragging their wounded comrades and setting up a final line of defense. Guns were reloaded, shields reformed, and a perimeter was established. The ruins of the arena lit up with muzzle flashes and spells as a desperate last stand began.

Then the crowd parted as someone approached from the depths below.

A frigid wind seemed to accompany her arrival. The storm, in all its fury, suddenly felt muted in her presence.

Lady Signora emerged, her heels clicking against the ancient stones. Flames flickered unnaturally in her presence, bending as if bowing to her will. The remaining Fatui opened a path without a word, fear and reverence in their eyes.

Her gaze swept the battlefield with a predator's cold, measured stare.

"What," she said in a voice like cracked ice, "is going on here?"

A commander stood tall before her, saluting with a trembling hand. "My Lady! We were ambushed by a massive force of hilichurls and Abyss Mages. Their numbers are—abnormal. And they're… organized. Too organized."

Signora's eyes narrowed. "The Abyss Order…"

A spear flew past her, missing by a hair's breadth and striking a nearby wall. She didn't even flinch.

"Do they take me for a fool?" she hissed, raising one gloved hand. Frost began to curl around her fingertips, spiraling into the air like a serpent made of winter.

"They send insects to test my patience…"

"My Lady—!" the female Fatui agent rushed to her side, breathless. "We need to fall back—"

"No," Signora said coldly, stepping forward, her boots cracking the thin frost forming on the stone. "If they dare send monsters to my doorstep, then let them be buried beneath it."

With a graceful gesture, the Delusion at her chest glowed with wicked crimson light. Flames erupted around her, freezing as they moved—fiery snowflakes spinning into a deadly spiral.

"Prepare yourselves," she said to the surviving Fatui. "Tonight, the storm does not decide your fate. I do."

The corpses of hilichurls and Fatui alike littered the battlefield in broken heaps, steam rising from their still-warm blood under the cold rain. The stench of elemental discharge and smoke filled the air.

Then, as if the heavens themselves held their breath, the chaos briefly parted.

The marching of crude feet and the chanting of guttural tongues fell into synchronized rhythm. The battlefield grew quiet—not with peace, but with anticipation. From the ranks of the hilichurl horde, a wide avenue was suddenly carved through their ranks, not by force, but by reverence.

A towering figure emerged, levitating just inches above the ground, gliding with a disturbing grace through the gap. The creature's appearance was more nightmare than reality—tall and lean, with four long arms that moved in perfect eerie harmony. Each limb was adorned with arcane symbols that shimmered with an unnatural, abyssal glow. Its flesh was dark like night and veined with violet, cerulean, and crimson energy. Eyes—if they could even be called such—flickered beneath the ceremonial mask that hid its face, each one burning with elemental fury.

The soldiers of the Fatui froze. Their guns trembled. An unnatural pressure weighed down on them, crawling into their bones, choking their breath.

"It's… an Iniquitous Baptist," one of the Skirmishers whispered, a tremor in his voice.

"Impossible… they're rarely seen even by the Abyss Order's own ranks…"

As the monstrous priest of the Abyss floated forward, the very air thickened with arcane tension. Arcane circles rotated slowly beneath it, feeding on the elements, glowing brighter with every heartbeat. The hilichurls behind it began to chant, thumping weapons on the ground, their fanatical devotion feeding the oppressive atmosphere.

Yet amidst the growing terror, one figure walked forward, unshaken. The soldiers around her instinctively parted like a tide yielding to a cliff. Rosalyne-Kruzchka Lohefalter—Signora, the Eighth Harbinger of the Fatui—strode with elegance and malice, her heels tapping against the stone with disdainful rhythm. Her crimson eyes burned beneath her half-mask, her long silver-blonde hair whipping behind her like a banner of defiance against the storm. The very air around her shimmered with intense heat, evaporating the raindrops before they touched her skin.

She stared at the abyssal monstrosity with pure contempt.

"So… the rats of the void have finally emerged from their filth." Her voice was silk and steel. "You stand before a Harbinger of Snezhnaya, and you dare approach my camp with that grotesque swarm?"

The Iniquitous Baptist hovered closer, the wind billowing around its form, its four arms slowly spreading out as it began to laugh—low and hollow, a dreadful rasp that echoed like death given voice.

"Ah… Harbinger…" the creature hissed, each syllable seeping with disdain. "Do not insult me by comparing me to those deluded followers of the so-called Princess of the Abyss. I am no servant of theirs. I am something far older… far deeper…"

Signora narrowed her gaze. "Then why crawl into the light now, beast?"

The Baptist's limbs gestured slowly, as if in a sermon. "We have watched your pitiful schemes unfold—your scurrying across the nations, stealing fragments of divinity from the gods you pretend to serve. You walk a path that leads to catastrophe… and that path intersects with ours."

Signora scoffed, folding her arms as flames briefly sparked at her fingertips. "So? What does that have to do with you?"

With a sudden motion, one of the Baptist's long fingers extended toward her, the gesture sharp as a blade. "Give us the Gnosis you carry. Surrender it, and we will show mercy. Refuse… and your corpses will fuel the new cycle."

For a moment, a heavy silence fell. Only the thunder dared interrupt it. Then Signora laughed—a cold, mocking laugh that dripped with venom and pride.

"Negotiating? With vermin?" Her tone dropped, each word laden with fury. "Do you really think a servant of the Tsaritsa—a Harbinger—would bow to a malformed cleric of the void?"

The temperature in the amphitheater rose sharply as her Delusion surged with power. Flames licked around her body, swirling in a vortex of red and white.

"You speak of mercy and cycles, but what you truly are is a parasite—a leech too cowardly to claim anything of value yourself. You call yourself ancient? Then you should know how this world works." She raised her hand, fingers glowing red. "When we finish with Celestia… it will be your turn. And we will purge every last one of your kind from Teyvat."

The Fatui soldiers felt the pressure lift from their backs. Signora's words reignited the fire in their hearts. Shouts of approval and cheers rose as morale surged anew.

The Iniquitous Baptist's glow pulsed ominously, each of its eyes narrowing behind the mask. "So… you have chosen death."

One of its arms slashed downward like a ritual blade. "CRUSH THEM!"

The hilichurl horde surged forward once more, their elemental-infused arrows lighting up the sky in a kaleidoscope of deadly colors. Mitachurls bellowed war cries, Lawachurls roared as they charged with earth-shaking footsteps, and Abyss Mages began to cast their deadly sigils.

Signora did not flinch. She took a step forward, her voice ringing out with terrible authority.

"Fatui! Form ranks! Show these beasts what Snezhnaya steel is made of!"

Guns were raised. Shields locked. Pyro Agents ignited their blades. Electrohammers buzzed to life. The amphitheater became a crucible of elemental chaos once more—but this time, with a burning pillar of pride standing at its center.

Signora, the Crimson Witch of Flame, was ready to bring judgment upon the abyss.

But then, something happened.

Without warning, the abyssal creatures ceased their march. The Iniquitous Baptist's many glowing eyes snapped upward toward the cliffs behind the Fatui ranks. A tremor of confusion rippled through the hilichurl lines as they all collectively looked skyward, their primitive senses reacting to something that had not yet been seen—only felt.

"What is this?" growled one Fatui Skirmisher, tightening his grip on his halberd. "Some kind of distraction?"

"Don't let them fool you! Stay sharp!" barked a Sergeant, his voice cutting through the downpour.

But one among them didn't dismiss the odd behavior so quickly. A Pyro Agent, one of Signora's trusted elite, squinted through the curtain of rain. His sharp eyes followed the trail of the Abyss army's gaze, turning slowly to look behind him—toward the cliff that loomed just beyond their position.

And then he saw it.

His heart skipped a beat. "…My lady," he said, his voice trembling despite years of ruthless training.

Signora, still glaring at the Baptist, barely turned her head. "What now?" she snapped.

"You… You have to see this for yourself," the Pyro Agent said, his voice hollow, as if the words were caught between awe and horror.

With a hiss of annoyance, Signora turned—and froze.

High above, standing like a grim omen along the crest of the cliff, was a second army. But this was no mere band of treasure hoarders, no tribe of elemental beasts. This was something else entirely. Something wrong.

Figures clad in armor so black it swallowed the light stood motionless in the rain, their forms barely visible under their tattered, hooded cloaks. Their silhouettes were sharp and menacing, like jagged blades waiting to fall. Crimson lights glowed from the hollows of their helmets, like staring into the eyes of forgotten evils. They stood unmoving—silent sentinels of death.

Even the Abyss creatures were confused, hesitant, their elemental energies flickering as if reacting to a presence that even they could not understand.

"…By the Tsaritsa," Signora whispered, her voice more breath than sound. "Who even are these now?"

As if answering her question, one figure moved.

A tall warrior stepped forward from the cliff's edge and leapt downward. Time seemed to slow as his cloaked form descended, landing with a thunderous crash that sent a shockwave rippling through the wet stone between the two armies. The earth beneath his feet cracked and hissed, as if recoiling from his presence.

He rose, revealing a twisted war-scythe forged of black steel and bone, its blade gleaming with malevolent power. Lightning revealed his face—or rather, the lack of it. Beneath the hood, there was only a skull, polished smooth and etched with runes of death. The sockets glowed with crimson malice.

He raised his hand, voice deep and echoing like the toll of a funeral bell.

"[Dimension Lock]."

A strange, otherworldly pulse rippled out from his form like a shockwave, washing over the battlefield. Signora and the Baptist both felt it immediately—teleportation magic was sealed. No escape. No recall. No mercy.

Then, the winds screamed.

Massive gales began to circle the entire valley, roaring louder than thunder, faster than any natural current. A great tornado formed around them all—Fatui, Hilichurl, Abyss, and the new arrivals—creating a monstrous wall of rotating wind and elemental chaos that sealed them in like a colossal death trap.

The Grim Reaper's voice rang out with terrifying authority.

"You filthy scumbags dare to spy on us!?" His eyes locked on both sides, on the Abyss priest and the Fatui commander alike. "None of you shall see the end of this night. None of you shall speak of what you have seen."

He pointed his scythe toward the battlefield and bellowed with thunderous finality:

"Slaughter them all!"

Then came the tide of death.

The army on the cliffs moved in perfect silence—Nazgûls and Undead Berserkers charging forward like spectral nightmares. They cascaded down the rocks like a black river of ruin. Many Nazgûls shimmered with dark energy and vanished into the shadows, reappearing instantly inside the Fatui lines, cutting down their enemies with cruel, sweeping strikes.

One Nazgûl spun mid-air and cleaved through five Fatui Skirmishers with a single arc of his blade, their screams drowned beneath the sound of their bodies being torn apart. Another slipped through a Pyro Agent's flames as if they were smoke, driving a blade through his spine and yanking it out without slowing.

The Fatui lines erupted into panic. Their once-steady formations devolved into screaming chaos. Guns fired wildly into the storm, and men screamed for mercy or barked hopeless orders. The Nazgûls danced through their ranks like shadows through candlelight, merciless and swift.

On the other side of the battlefield, the hilichurl army fared no better. The Undead Berserkers crashed into their lines like hammers of fury. Standing twice the height of a Mitachurl and thrice as broad, these monstrous undead warriors howled with rage and tore through shields and bone alike with brutal efficiency. One lifted a Lawachurl into the air and crushed its skull beneath a spiked mace.

The Abyss Mages screeched and tried to summon barriers, but dark tendrils erupted from the earth beneath them, dragging them screaming into the storm as they were dismembered alive.

Signora's eyes widened as she watched the battle dissolve into a slaughterhouse. Her flames hissed and roared, and she held her hand over her Delusion, ready to burn a path out—but she knew. She knew.

"We're trapped…" she said aloud, her voice strained with rare uncertainty. "This isn't a battle. It's a massacre."

All around her, Fatui were falling by the dozens, their blood mixing with that of the hilichurls in grotesque rivers. Torn limbs and smoking armor flew through the air. The storm howled louder, as if mocking them. Screams filled the tornado-walled deathtrap. There was no line to hold. No fallback point. No escape.

The Iniquitous Baptist, too, found itself swarmed by undead magic, shrieking as dark glyphs tore into its shields.

Signora turned slowly, her flames spiraling in a defensive arc, her mask barely holding back a scowl of fury.

"This night… has turned against us," she hissed. Then her voice rose, full of fire and command.

"TO ME! TO ME! RALLY AND FIGHT! WE ARE FATUI!"

Her last stand had begun.

Chapter Text

A storm of flame swept across the battlefield.

Signora, Her Majesty's Eighth Harbinger, stood at the epicenter of the inferno, her face lit by the blazing storm she had conjured. Hellfire twisted like serpents, swallowing entire platoons, igniting the air, and charring the soil black. The amphitheater's entrance roared with heat and chaos, a sea of molten rage unleashed by one of the Tsaritsa's chosen.

"BURN!" Signora's voice echoed like a commandment of destruction. The firestorm danced to her will, the wind howling around her with each flick of her wrist, and columns of crimson flame spiraled into the heavens like the towers of a fiery cathedral.

But even this divine wrath… was not enough.

She narrowed her eyes through the curtain of flame—and her heart sank.

Through the fire, the dark silhouettes of the enemy still stood—unscathed.

Like statues of an ancient nightmare, the Nazgul and their monstrous allies walked forward without hesitation. The fire did not singe them. The smoke did not choke them. The wind did not move their cloaks. The light of the flame only made their red eyes glow brighter beneath the shadowed hoods.

"…Impossible…" Signora whispered, voice dry as the ash falling around her. "That was… one of my strongest spells…"

"My lady!" a voice screamed. One of her agents—a young woman with a bloodied uniform and terrified eyes—was running toward her.

But she didn't make it.

A black blade pierced the woman's spine from behind, and its jagged edge erupted from her chest with a cruel sound of tearing flesh. The agent's breath hitched, her eyes wide with betrayal and agony. The Nazgul lifted her dying body into the air like a trophy before hurling her aside like broken glass.

"YOU MONSTERS!" Signora's face twisted in fury. With a snarl, she hurled a massive dark fireball, crackling with Abyssal energy, directly at the Nazgul. The heat shattered the air as it flew, but the creature blurred into a wisp of shadow.

He reappeared—right behind her.

A warning chill crawled down her spine.

Signora twisted just in time, barely managing to block the incoming strike with her flaming whip. Sparks and embers exploded between them as metal clashed against magic. She gritted her teeth, her heels digging into the scorched earth.

He's strong. Too strong.

This… thing… had nearly taken her life in a single blow. She, a Harbinger.

With a hiss, she vanished into a swirl of burning embers, reappearing several meters away, cloaked in her flame-born wings.

She stumbled—only to slam into something behind her.

A heavy presence turned toward her. She looked up.

The Iniquitous Baptist.

His twisted mask of elemental sigils was facing her, and even he looked surprised. For a second, the battlefield's madness was drowned by their mutual disgust.

"The hell do you think you are doing, foolish human?!" the Abyss being roared, elemental rings swirling in fury around him. "I don't have time to deal with you! We are being devoured!"

"Neither do I, you Abyss filth!" Signora snapped, rising to her full height. "And whose fault is that, creature?! You brought your filth here!"

The ground beneath them rumbled.

Without another word, the Baptist turned, floating into the air as he unleashed everything in his arsenal.

"Shattering Blast! Dark Frost Icicles! Abyssal Light! Violet Beam! Lances of Retribution! Surging Tide! Searing Precept! Orbs of Incineration!"

The battlefield lit up in a kaleidoscope of elemental destruction. Ice cracked across the scorched earth, abyssal beams split the sky, and lances of energy skewered undead warriors in the dozens. Yet still—they came. Still, they endured.

Signora joined in, her voice shrieking through the madness.

"Witch's Wrath! Whirling Blaze! Inferno Waltz!"

The earth itself cracked open beneath the Nazgul and Berserkers as molten boulders erupted upward. Fire tornadoes twisted across the field, devouring everything within reach.

But it wasn't enough.

Nothing was enough.

Thanatos, the Reaper, stood at the center of the carnage like a god untouched. The Grim Reaper raised his war-scythe high above his head, a towering figure cloaked in shadow and bone.

"You call this resistance?" he growled, voice like gravel scraping against steel. "Weaklings…"

He swung his scythe.

A vertical arc of pure negative energy carved through the battlefield like a blade through silk. It was so fast, so sudden, that the Iniquitous Baptist had no time to react.

He was cleaved in half.

His body split midair, his elemental rings shattered, and his glowing soul scattered into black wisps before he could even scream.

The slash didn't stop.

It kept going—toward Signora.

Her eyes widened. "No—!"

She leapt aside just in time. The dark slash tore through several Fatui Skirmishers, cutting them down like paper dolls, before finally crashing into the cliff behind them.

BOOOOOOM.

The explosion was biblical. The entire battlefield shook. Stone shattered. The air cracked. A shockwave blasted out from the cliff, hurling bodies—Fatui, Hilichurl, even shadows—through the air like leaves.

Signora hit the ground hard, her shoulder digging into the rock. The world spun. Her ears rang. Ash fell like snow.

And then… silence.

She blinked, groggy, and noticed something in front of her. A reflection.

Her own face—framed by her crimson mask and wild white-blond hair—stared back at her.

She was looking at a blade.

The scythe.

It hovered just millimeters from her throat.

She froze.

Her breath caught.

A shadow loomed above her. Thanatos.

"Get up, mortal," he commanded.

His voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. It was cold, final, absolute. Like a verdict from Death itself.

Signora, Harbinger of Flame and Vengeance, got up—slowly. The blade never moved from her neck. Her limbs trembled. Not from pain. Not from exhaustion.

From fear.

Thanatos tilted his skeletal head, crimson pinpoints of light burning in the depths of his eye sockets beneath the hood.

"You walk like royalty," he murmured. "But you are no queen. You are ash that has not yet accepted its fate."

Signora clenched her fists, summoning fire in her palms again—but the scythe pressed harder against her skin.

"Try it," Thanatos whispered. "And I shall cleave your soul from your body before your fire dies out."

The battlefield behind them was nothing but ruin—charred corpses, torn banners, smoldering earth.

Signora was alone.

The Fatui were gone.

The Abyss was broken.

The dead now ruled the night.

She was a Harbinger. One of the Tsaritsa's most powerful instruments.

But in that moment… she felt like an ant facing the scythe of the universe.

"W-what are you…" she whispered.

Thanatos tilted his skull.

"The reckoning."

But just as the cold edge of Thanatos' war-scythe pressed against Signora's neck, a dark, gloved hand reached out and calmly touched the shaft of the massive weapon.

The motion was not forceful—yet the unearthly reaper stopped immediately.

A silent command had been given, and Thanatos obeyed.

Signora's chest rose and fell with rapid, panicked breaths as the blade retreated from her skin. Confused, terrified, and half-consumed by the flames of battle and the shock of Thanatos' power, she turned her head—slowly, cautiously—to see who it was that dared to command a being like that.

And then her breath caught in her throat.

The armored figure that now stood before her, framed by black flames and the fallen stone of the battlefield, was a monster cloaked in myth.

A towering, dark knight with a black mask, its mask-like surface carved in emotionless elegance. His gothic cape fluttered in the heated gusts born from the hellfire she herself had unleashed moments ago. Behind him, the twisted sky seemed to bend to his presence, as though the very world hesitated in fear.

She had seen him before—briefly, always just out of reach. Once in Mondstadt. Again in Liyue. Then, in Inazuma, whispers of his name followed even the footsteps of the Archons.

She gasped, voice trembling.

"Y-You..."

It was all she could manage. Her voice cracked under the weight of disbelief and fear. "You're the… Honorary Knight…?"

The figure nodded once.

"We meet again, Miss Signora," came the voice from beneath the helm. Calm, deep, and without emotion—but laced with the finality of judgment.

Signora's lips parted to speak, to ask the million questions clawing at her mind—but before even a single word could escape her, a thunderous sound tore through the battlefield.

CRACK.

His armored hand lashed out with such speed it was invisible to the human eye, and his gauntlet-clad palm struck her cheek with immense force.

She didn't even have time to react.

The world spun. The wind was knocked from her lungs.

Her body was lifted into the air by the sheer power of the blow, and like a puppet severed from its strings, she crashed down in the heart of the ruined temple with a violent thud, skidding across the shattered stones before coming to a stop amid the rubble.

Agony coursed through her face. She tasted blood in her mouth.

The heat of the battle around her seemed to fade, swallowed by the pain.

Dazed, she opened her eyes—and the figure was already there, standing over her.

Momon.

Not a hero.

Not a knight.

Not a man.

But something else. Something beyond Teyvat.

"That," he said coldly, "was for hitting Miko."

His tone was even, as though he were speaking of the weather.

Signora blinked, memory flooding back. The shrine… the confrontation… she had struck the Guuji of the Grand Narukami Shrine across the face without hesitation during her mission to steal the Electro Gnosis. She had done it with pride.

But now?

Before she could reply, another brutal impact slammed into her gut—Momon's armored boot.

She screamed as her body flew once more, this time crashing into a toppled ancient pillar. The sound of bones cracking echoed through the ruins.

Her body writhed in pain.

"Cough! Cough!" Blood gushed from her mouth and nose, painting her lips crimson. Her vision blurred.

She groaned, barely able to lift her head. Her limbs trembled.

Momon walked toward her slowly, each footstep ringing out like a war drum, deliberate and thunderous against the crumbling floor of the temple.

"And that," he said coldly, standing over her once more, "was for hitting Venti at the cathedral in Mondstadt."

Her bloodstained lips twitched in disbelief. "Ve-Venti…?" she croaked. "That ba–cough!–bard? That drunk… the Anemo Archon?!"

Momon's gaze did not waver. "Exactly."

He tilted his head slightly, the mask reflecting the firelight of the battlefield behind him.

"I do not take sides easily," he said, the words like frozen daggers. "And I hold no reverence for gods—not even the Archons of this world."

He knelt down to meet her broken form eye to eye.

"But I do defend those I consider friends. Hurt them… and I'll make you feel pain in ways you never imagined."

She looked into the hollow darkness of his mask, her fear now turning to horror as she realized what stood before her was not a mere warrior.

Not a human.

Not even a god.

But a being whose wrath knew no equal—and whose judgment she had just been placed beneath.

He stood up once more, his towering form casting a long, deathly shadow over her trembling body as the sounds of dying soldiers, hellfire, and the groaning of the earth echoed around them.

"You believed yourself above consequence," Momon whispered, his voice now low and almost sorrowful. "You saw nations as pawns, Archons as weak, mortals as your playthings. But you forgot one thing, Signora…"

He leaned closer.

"There is always something in the dark... watching."

Her heart, already pounding, seemed to stop entirely.

"And now," Momon said, rising to his full height again, "you are at its mercy."

Signora lay crumpled among the broken stones, blood on her lips, body screaming in agony with every shallow breath. But her pride—her rage—still burned hotter than any flame she could summon.

"Don't you dare lay a finger on me again, you bastard!" Signora shrieked through bloodied lips, her voice laced with pain, rage, and pride. Despite her battered form, she tried to crawl away, clutching at the cracked ground with trembling fingers. Her body was failing, but her defiance burned bright. "The Fatui... the Harbingers... the Tsaritsa herself will see to it that you're hunted down and destroyed! You hear me?!"

Her voice cracked with defiance, but behind it trembled something else: fear.

"Oh? Is that so?" he replied, voice dripping with cruel mockery. "And what exactly are they going to do, hmm? Send another batch of disposable assassins to die like insects? …Pity. They were brave enough to play gods, but none of them is ready to face death."

Momon tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable behind the dark mask that had become infamous across the continent. Then, with a slow and deliberate motion, he reached up to the side of his mask.

A soft metallic hiss escaped as he began to remove the mask.

Signora's eyes narrowed at first—then widened with each passing second.

The mask came off.

What was revealed beneath was no face, no flesh, no blood. No expression. Only death.

Beneath the armor was a polished white skull, eerily smooth and devoid of flesh. From within the hollow sockets glowed two deep crimson lights—like embers smoldering within a black abyss. The lights flickered and burned as if a dying star was trapped behind them. She could feel the heat of his gaze even without eyes. His presence no longer seemed merely overwhelming—it felt unnatural, abominable, like the universe itself had made a mistake allowing him to exist.

Signora recoiled. Her voice, so defiant before, now faltered.

"W-What…? What are you?" she whispered, her voice a trembling echo of her former arrogance.

She scrambled backwards across the stone floor, trying to distance herself, but her battered limbs refused to obey. "This… this is impossible. No creature like you… no thing like you… could be born in Teyvat. You're not human… You're not even a demon."

"No," came Momon's voice, unfiltered by the mask now—deep and otherworldly, vibrating through her very bones. "I am not."

Without warning, he lunged forward with lightning speed. His gauntlet shot out and closed around her throat with terrible precision. The metal fingers squeezed tightly, and she was lifted effortlessly into the air.

Signora gasped as her feet left the ground, dangling helplessly. She kicked, clawed at his arm, flames flickering weakly from her fingertips—but she couldn't focus, couldn't breathe.

He held her aloft like she was nothing more than a ragged doll.

Her crimson eyes stared into the glowing abyss of his skull, and for the first time in years, true dread settled into her heart.

"What… are you doing?!" she croaked, voice breaking under the strain. "Put me down!"

"Oh, I intend to," said Momon coldly. "But not before you understand exactly why you're going to die."

He leaned in closer, the burning lights of his eyes flaring brighter.

"What would be the point," he continued, "of telling you about the world I come from? About the gods I've seen crumble? About the cities I've turned to ash? You would not understand. Your kind never does."

His skeletal fingers tightened, just enough to make her gag.

"But this much, La Signora, you can understand," he growled. "You struck down Venti. You hurt Miko. You played games with lives, all in the name of some twisted vision of 'order.' You thought yourself untouchable behind the mask of diplomacy. Behind the banner of the Fatui."

Momon's voice lowered into a whisper, cold as the grave.

"You thought wrong."

She let out a hoarse cry, struggling weakly as the pain in her neck intensified. But Momon was not done.

"And as for your allies," he said, dragging her closer so her bloodied face hovered inches from the cold, grinning visage of death, "Your fellow Harbingers. Your precious Tsaritsa. If they ever decide to stand against me—"

The air seemed to darken around him, and a subtle vibration filled the earth beneath their feet, as if something vast and ancient stirred at his command.

"I will slaughter them," he whispered, his voice soaked in absolute conviction. "One by one. Their titles, their delusions, their divine ambitions… all will burn. I will show them that even the coldest winter can be buried beneath a deeper, blacker night."

Signora could only wheeze now, tears streaming from her eyes—not from sorrow, but from fear. Pure, suffocating terror.

Momon raised her higher, letting her legs dangle limply. Her vision blurred, darkness closing in at the edges.

"Tonight," he said, "you die not because of politics. Not because of war. Not even because of vengeance. You die… because you earned it."

And then—

He threw her.

Her body was hurled across the broken courtyard like a meteor, crashing into the far wall of the temple ruins. The impact shattered stone, sending up a thunderous shockwave that echoed for miles.

Dust billowed. The world held its breath.

And in the silence that followed, Momon stood alone in the center of the battlefield, his skeletal face turned skyward.

The flames of war had not ended.

The wind howled through the shattered remains of the Thousand Winds Temple, carrying away the last wisps of ash and dust stirred by the chaos. Stone pillars lay in ruin, the ancient floor cracked like shattered glass beneath the might of violence that had unfolded moments before. The once-sacred ground, touched by history and gods, was now a desecrated battlefield.

Momon stood still, his black cape flaring gently in the breeze as he walked to the edge of the ruined platform. His armored footsteps echoed with grim finality as he gazed down upon the wreckage of the Harbinger he had defeated.

There, amidst crumbled stone and blood-stained dust, lay Signora.

Or what was left of her.

Her once-majestic form was reduced to a grotesque mess of crushed bone, torn silk, and splattered gore. Her lower body had been obliterated—legs twisted, spine shattered, flesh pulped as though she had been dropped from the heavens and struck the ground like a fallen comet. It was as if her form had been squeezed through the fingers of a god and discarded like refuse. Crimson and black pooled beneath her, soaking into the cracks of the temple's foundation.

Yet… somehow… she was still alive.

Twitching.

Convulsing.

Her upper body spasmed violently, eyes rolled back, blood trickling from the corners of her lips and nose. Her arms jittered like broken clockwork, and a low, rasping sound escaped her throat—half-scream, half-gasp.

Momon tilted his head ever so slightly, as if admiring a rare piece of ruined art.

"Magnificent," he said at last, his voice calm, soft, disturbingly pleased.

Thanatos approached from behind, his war-scythe still humming faintly with death magic. The Nazguls followed, tall and cloaked in shadows, their burning eyes locked onto the ruin before them. The hulking Undead Berserkers stood like statues of bone and steel, forming a semicircle of death around their lord.

All of them stared down at the fallen Harbinger.

"She's still clinging to life," muttered one Nazgul, with an almost reverent tone.

Momon gave a quiet chuckle, dark and hollow.

"What a woman," he said. "Even like this… barely more than a torso… she resists the call of the grave. Proud, determined, foolish."

He knelt beside her twitching body, watching her suffering with eerie detachment.

"That's the kind of strength I respect," he murmured, "but strength alone won't save you, Signora. Not from me."

He stood and turned his back to her.

"Thanatos," he said without raising his voice.

The Grim Reaper stepped forward, his shadow stretching over the ruined woman like a veil of death. "My lord?"

"Finish her. And bring me her head."

Thanatos gave a small, respectful bow. "Yes, my lord."

He turned to face Signora's broken body. A hum of necrotic energy gathered at the edge of his war-scythe.

She seemed to sense it. Her remaining eye fluttered open, and for the briefest of moments, there was a flicker of recognition—then terror.

But it was far too late.

"[True Death," Thanatos intoned.

A flash of sickly dark light rippled over her body, and the spasms ceased. Her soul was torn free and extinguished—no resurrection, no reincarnation, no afterlife. Just... oblivion.

The Reaper lifted his scythe again and, with one swift, clean stroke, severed her head.

Blood poured from the neck like wine from a shattered goblet.

Thanatos bent down, gripped her once-silken blonde hair, and raised the head high, the final trophy of a once-feared Harbinger.

He turned and presented it to his master.

Momon nodded, crimson fire still burning in his hollow gaze.

"She won't be missed," he muttered.

Behind him, the ruined temple echoed with the low groans of dying men—Fatui soldiers, left behind in the chaos. A handful still lived, wounded and frightened, cowering deep in the shadowed halls of the ancient structure.

"Are any of the Fatui dogs still alive?" Momon asked, his voice distant.

Thanatos turned to his brethren.

"There are a few," one Nazgul replied, voice hollow and metallic. "The hilichurls injured them before our arrival. They crawled inside and hid."

"I see…" Momon tapped a finger thoughtfully against the side of his skeletal helm. "Give the head of Signora to one of them. Let them carry it back to Snezhnaya. Let them be the messenger of what defiance brings."

He turned to gaze over the ruined landscape.

"As for the rest of them—" his tone darkened like a blade sliding into a sheath, "—you know what to do. Clean up the mess," he said coldly. "I want nothing left behind. No trace. No bones. No ash. When the Knights of Favonius come snooping around, they will find only silence."

Thanatos nodded, raising his scythe.

"You heard the Supreme One! Move!" he barked to the undead. "No survivors, no witnesses!"

The Nazguls and Berserkers moved in perfect coordination, vanishing into the ruins to carry out the sentence.

Momon's gaze drifted back to the grisly remains of Signora's body—legs broken, innards exposed, skin pale and bloodless now. He regarded her dismembered corpse with clinical detachment.

"Get the rest of her body to Dragonspine," he said, as if speaking about furniture. "Leave it where no one will find it… or what's left of it."

"As you command, my lord," Thanatos said, bowing once more before dragging the remains into the shadow.

And with that, the undead army resumed its grim work. The wind picked up again, and in the growing twilight, the Thousand Winds Temple began to fall silent once more—cleansed not by divine grace, but by the hand of death itself.

Chapter Text

The storm over Mondstadt roared with relentless fury, shrouding the city beneath blackened skies. Bolts of lightning streaked across the heavens, illuminating the gothic silhouettes of towers and spires for brief, breathless seconds before vanishing into the darkness again. The thunder that followed was like the wrathful voice of a god—deafening, infinite, echoing across rooftops and crashing into the mountains beyond.

The city had gone to sleep early that night.

All except for a few scattered homes where candlelight still flickered—and the towering structure of the Knights of Favonius Headquarters. Within its stone halls, a dim golden light spilled from a large window near the top floor. Inside, the Grand Library was alive with the crackle of enchanted lanterns, stacks of scrolls, and the rustling of ancient tomes.

Lisa Minci stood near a reading table, her amethyst eyes half-lidded with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. Her fingers absentmindedly twirled a small lock of her curled, honey-brown hair while she watched Mona Megistus with growing interest.

Mona, draped in her dark astrologist's cloak, stood rigid before an open book on the table. Her gloved hands were firmly planted on either side of the pages, and her eyes were intense with concentration, darting over cryptic symbols and lines of text that shimmered faintly in magical ink.

She suddenly raised her voice, casting her arm forward as if mimicking a wand-wielder from legend.

"[Maximize Magic – Magic Arrow!]"

She shouted the incantation with conviction, her voice ringing through the library with purpose and authority. But—nothing happened. No light. No surge of power. Not even a whimper of arcane energy stirred the air around her.

There was a moment of awkward silence, broken only by the thunder rumbling outside.

Lisa blinked.

Then smiled.

"Oh, Mona, my dear," she said in her smooth, velvety voice. "What exactly was that just now?"

Mona frowned, clutching the sides of the book. Her cheeks flushed with frustration and embarrassment, though she kept her chin high.

"I'm trying to cast Tier Magic, Lisa. I've been studying this book from Momon for hours now, and this was supposed to be a basic offensive spell in his system."

Lisa let out a soft, amused sigh and approached her younger colleague. Her heels clicked gently on the polished marble floor as she circled around the table to glance over Mona's shoulder at the book.

"I see. And… did anything feel different when you said the spell aloud?" Lisa asked, gently brushing a finger over a passage on the page, even though the language was utterly alien to her.

Mona shook her head, clearly irritated.

"No. Not even a spark. Haaah…" she slumped slightly, arms crossed. "I've tried everything—intonation, visualization, posture. I even fasted for six hours like the book suggested to 'clear mental noise'—whatever that means."

Lisa chuckled lightly, setting a hand on Mona's shoulder.

"Oh Mona, always so dedicated to her craft," she said fondly. "But you must understand, this kind of magic… this Tier Magic... It's completely outside the bounds of our known elemental systems. None of Teyvat's schools teach anything even remotely close to this."

Mona sighed again, softer this time. "I know, Lisa… I know. But still, I'm a witch, like you. We both channel elemental power through intellect and will, not just brute strength or a Vision. Shouldn't we be able to at least sense this 'Mana' the book keeps describing?"

Lisa hummed thoughtfully. "'Mana,' you said? Or wait—you also called it... 'MP'?"

Mona nodded, flipping the page. "Yes, it's short for 'Mana Points,' a kind of metaphysical energy reserve that spellcasters in Momon's birthplace rely on. You can only cast spells if you have enough of it. Tier Magic seems to rely entirely on MP, and the spell strength is categorized from First Tier all the way up to—well, the book claims there's a spell at the Tenth Tier. Can you imagine?"

Lisa raised a brow. "Tenth Tier? Sounds dramatic."

Mona gave a wry smile. "It is dramatic. That kind of spell is supposed to rival natural disasters… even affect time or reality itself. According to Momon, each Tier requires a higher amount of MP, and also greater mental discipline to shape and control."

Lisa leaned in, studying the text more closely now. "Shame I can't read a word of this. It's not even like the old runes we use when decoding ley line anomalies. Did you translate any of it?"

"Sort of," Mona said, reaching into her satchel and pulling out a worn leather notebook, its edges frayed from frequent use. "I had to use a magical item Momon lent me—temporarily, of course. It allowed me to see the alphabet used in his realm and compare it to ours. From there, I've been working on translating key concepts."

Lisa tapped her chin. "He just lent you something like that?"

"It was more like… a reluctant agreement," Mona admitted. "I think he wanted me to realize just how strange his realm really is. The structure of his magic, the theory, even the vocabulary—it's all built on assumptions that we in Teyvat don't even consider. For example, there's no such thing as Vision affinity in his system. Magic is something you study and train, like a martial art."

Lisa's eyes sparkled with curiosity now. "Fascinating. So what you're saying is... anyone with enough training and knowledge could cast these spells? Even without a Vision?"

"That's the idea," Mona said. "But clearly, something is missing. Either our bodies lack the capacity to produce MP naturally—or something in the laws of Teyvat is blocking this kind of magic from functioning properly here."

Lisa crossed her arms and leaned against the edge of the table, watching Mona intently.

"Still, the fact that Momon can use this magic freely suggests it's not impossible. Maybe… it's just that he brings his own MP reservoir with him from his realm. Or he operates outside the natural laws of Teyvat entirely."

Mona tapped her pen on the table, staring down at the glowing lines of the spellbook.

"Maybe," she whispered. "But if I can unlock this, Lisa... just understand one Tier… I could rewrite everything we know about magic. About power. About destiny."

Lightning flashed again, bathing the library in white for a second. The thunder shook the floor beneath their feet.

Lisa smiled, her voice soft but firm. "Careful, Mona. That kind of ambition has burned brighter witches than you. But I'll admit… I'm intrigued."

Mona didn't look away from the page.

"I'm not doing this for power. I'm doing this for knowledge," she said quietly.

Lisa placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"And that's what makes you dangerous."

Suddenly, the great wooden doors creaked open—not with the cautious push of a late-night scholar, but the casual confidence of someone who belonged anywhere they walked.

"Well, hello there, my witch sisters!" came a voice as warm as spring sunlight after a long winter.

Both Lisa and Mona turned toward the entrance, smiling as a familiar figure stepped inside.

Alice—the ever-wandering, ever-mischievous, ever-powerful witch—entered the library with her usual grace and cheer. She wore her signature explorer's cloak, dampened slightly by the rain, her long golden hair trailing behind her like a comet's tail. Her pointed ears peeked through her soft curls, and her sharp violet eyes gleamed with curiosity as she closed the door behind her.

"Alice, welcome!" Lisa said warmly, rising from her chair and placing her book aside.

"It's so late," Alice said, unbothered. "I couldn't sleep with all that thunder roaring above. It's like Teyvat itself is angry."

"Same here," Lisa replied with a light sigh. "But what about little Klee? Isn't she scared of storms?"

"Oh, she's sleeping like a lamb," Alice said with a mother's fond smile, pulling off her cloak and hanging it near the door. "Children sleep the best when the world outside is loud. Makes them feel cozy, I think."

Alice walked further in and paused when she noticed Mona.

"Oh my, and who do we have here? The ever-diligent student of Barbeloth. Hello, dear Mona!"

Mona stood quickly, offering a respectful bow. "Alice! I didn't know you were in Mondstadt. It's an honor."

Alice was no ordinary witch—she was an ancient being, a traveler who had wandered Teyvat for centuries, accumulating knowledge and power beyond mortal comprehension. As the founder of the Hexenzirkel, she commanded immense respect, and Mona, despite her pride, knew better than to treat her casually.

Alice chuckled. "Oh, please, no need to be so stiff. We're all witches here, aren't we?" She stepped closer and placed a hand gently on Mona's shoulder. "You've grown so much. You've become a proper witch now, haven't you?"

Mona blushed faintly and smiled. "I'm honored to hear that from you, Lady Alice."

Lisa returned with a fresh cup of tea. "Would you like some?"

Alice waved her hand dismissively. "No, thank you, darling. I've had quite enough for today."

As she settled into one of the armchairs near the hearth, her expression subtly changed. The cheer in her eyes faded just a touch, replaced by something more distant. Her smile remained—but it was no longer carefree.

Lisa noticed immediately. "You seem… disturbed, Alice."

Alice exhaled deeply and leaned her head back against the cushion. "Disturbed is the right word. Earlier today… I encountered something—or rather, someone—so strange, so utterly alien, that I've been turning it over in my head ever since."

There was a pause.

"You're talking about Momon, aren't you?" Lisa asked quietly.

Alice turned her head, peering at Lisa with a sly smile. "Mmhmm. And you, Lisa dear… you seem very close to him. Is he your boyfriend?"

Lisa's face turned a shade of red no thunderstorm could hide. "Aha… oh my," she laughed, fanning herself. "I love how that sounds, but no… no, I wouldn't call him my boyfriend. We're just… very close. That's all."

"Oh really?" Mona's eyebrows shot up, her expression caught somewhere between shock and intrigue. "You and Momon? Don't tell me you got close to him for Tier Magic knowledge!"

Lisa rolled her eyes and smiled. "Honestly, Mona, it's not like that at all. You know I never told you everything about why I left the Sumeru Akademiya, right?"

"I always wondered, but I figured it was private," Mona said.

Lisa nodded, then slowly sat back down. Her voice softened, touched by memory.

"Years ago, I was afflicted with a curse. It granted me immense magical power and knowledge—enough to rival arch-sages, some said—but at a price. The curse was feeding on my life force, burning me from the inside out. My lifespan was cut in half. Every day felt like a countdown."

Mona stared in stunned silence. Even Alice leaned forward slightly, listening intently.

Lisa nodded slowly. "I accepted it at the time. I came home to Mondstadt because I wanted to live my last years surrounded by peace, books, and wind, not buried in dust and deadlines."

Then her voice grew steadier, her tone full of reverence.

"And then, two months ago, Momon arrived with Aether. He helped us stop Stormterror… but that wasn't what changed everything. One night, here in this very library, he looked at me and said he could see the curse inside me—like it was a knot waiting to be untied."

Lisa looked down at her hands, her voice trembling with awe.

"And he removed it. Just like that. No ritual. No price. No effort. It was as if… he simply willed it away. He didn't even ask for anything in return."

Alice blinked, the flicker of wonder in her eyes unmistakable.

"That's… incredible," she whispered.

"That's Momon for you," Mona added. "His power is beyond what any scholar can measure. His magic feels… infinite."

Alice slowly leaned back in her seat, arms crossed, mind working behind her eyes.

Alice's expression grew thoughtful. "Still, Momon is… strange. What I've heard about his power is absurd. And that… makes him dangerous." She tapped her chin. "The other witches in the Hexenzirkel are very curious about him. A sorcerer of his caliber… we might even offer him a position among us."

But before she could finish the thought, Lisa's voice snapped like a blade drawn in warning.

"You said it yourself. He's dangerous."

Alice looked up, surprised at the shift in tone.

Lisa's eyes, usually playful and teasing, were deadly serious now—glowing faintly with the electric charge of a storm mage's conviction.

"The Hexenzirkel should be cautious. Very cautious," Lisa continued. "Momon does not like being treated like a subject or a curiosity. If you provoke him—if you try to test him—you'll turn the most powerful ally this world has ever seen into a deadly enemy."

Mona stared at Lisa in silence, feeling the weight of her words.

Alice was quiet for a long moment, then gave a slow nod.

"…You're right," she said softly. "I forget, sometimes… that curiosity without restraint can turn wonder into disaster."

She smiled again—genuinely this time, if a bit wryly. "I'll remind the other witches. We'll observe from a distance."

Lisa's expression softened. "Thank you, Alice."

"You know what, Lisa…" Alice began, her voice lilting with a singsong cadence. "Can you get me close with Momon?"

The question hung in the air like an unspoken spell.

Lisa, who had just taken a sip of her tea, nearly choked. She set the cup down with a sharp clink, her eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. Beside her, Mona's astrolabe slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the table as she gaped at Alice.

"Uhh, Alice," Lisa said slowly, her tone laced with incredulity, "you are a mother… right?"

Alice's ears—already long and expressive—twitched violently as her face flushed a deep scarlet. She waved her hands frantically, as if trying to dispel the implication like a rogue spell.

"Wooo, no, no, not in that way, Lisa!" she sputtered, her voice rising an octave. "Goodness, what kind of woman do you take me for?" She pressed a hand to her chest in mock offense, though her embarrassment was palpable. "I just want to have a great relationship with him as fellow sorcerers, haha!" Her laughter was a little too forced, a little too high-pitched. "That way, the Hexenzirkel won't be on his bad side. Purely professional curiosity!"

Lisa studied Alice for a long moment, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. "Mmm. Professional curiosity. Right." She took another slow sip of tea, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Mona, meanwhile, had folded her arms, her expression torn between disbelief and secondhand embarrassment. "Alice, even if that were your intention—which, frankly, I'm not entirely convinced it isn't—you're out of luck."

Alice blinked. "Huh? Why's that?"

Lisa sighed, swirling the remaining tea in her cup. "Because Momon isn't in Mondstadt anymore. He left for Sumeru."

Alice's shoulders slumped. "That's… unfortunate." She pouted, her ears drooping slightly. "And here I was hoping to pick his brain—strictly about magic, mind you!"

Lisa chuckled, shaking her head. "Oh, Alice. You're as subtle as a pyro slime in a fireworks factory."

Mona snorted, covering her mouth with her hand. "I'd pay to see that conversation. 'Hello, mysterious and terrifyingly powerful sorcerer! Let's be friends! Also, ignore the fact that I'm the founder of a secretive coven that may or may not have been spying on you!'"

Alice huffed, crossing her arms. "You're both terrible. I'm being perfectly reasonable!"

Lisa leaned back in her chair, her smirk softening into something more genuine. "If you really want to get on Momon's good side, Alice, you'll have to wait for the right moment. He's… particular about who he trusts."

Alice sighed dramatically, flopping back against the cushions. "Ugh. Fine. But when he does come back, you're introducing us properly, got it?"

Lisa's smile was enigmatic. "We'll see."

A few days had passed since the violent, otherworldly thunderstorm that tore through the skies above Mondstadt—a night that shook the city and whispered of death on the wind. But far to the north, in the frozen and formidable land of Snezhnaya, a different storm was brewing.

Within the towering spires of the Zapolyarny Palace, in the heart of the Fatui's stronghold, the main chamber glowed with a dim, eerie blue light. Frosted chandeliers swung silently above a long, ornate obsidian table lined with chairs that were too grand to be practical. Cold air slithered through the room, uninvited and unnoticed—just another breath from the unforgiving land outside.

Seated at this vast table were eight of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. The air was heavy with expectation, tension, and silent calculations. These were not allies by choice—they were warlords, schemers, and monsters bound together by ambition and the Tsaritsa's will.

At the head of the table sat Pierro, the Fool, face veiled in shadow, his gloved fingers laced together in contemplation. His usual composed aura was cracked, his expression grim.

"I have summoned you today regarding a matter of utmost importance," Pierro began, his voice echoing through the chamber like the toll of a funeral bell. "Our comrade Rosalyne, the Eighth Harbinger… has disappeared."

A ripple of silence passed through the chamber. Not shock—these were Harbingers, after all—but intrigue. Calculation. Wariness.

Il Capitano, seated at the opposite end, leaned forward slightly, his armor creaking with the movement. "Disappeared? Under what circumstances?"

Childe—Tartaglia, the Eleventh—stiffened, his icy-blue eyes narrowing. Of them all, he was the only one who looked visibly disturbed.

"The last time I saw her," he muttered, "was in the old ruins of Mondstadt. She was stationed there with a battalion of six hundred men. I left her there before returning to Snezhnaya."

"And what was Lohefalter's objective?" Capitano asked, his voice deep and unwavering, like a knight carved from iron.

Columbina, perched like a songbird wrapped in silks and shadows, smiled serenely as she answered. "Her mission was to investigate the lands now known as the Dominion of Nazarick... ruled by the so-called Honorary Knight, Momon."

The name slithered through the air like a phantom. Even among the Harbingers, it was now a name none could ignore.

"Momon," Capitano echoed. "I've heard rumors. Too many of them."

"As have we all," added Arlecchino, crossing her legs and folding her arms. "It seems the man is becoming a recurring subject in our war councils. That alone says enough."

Childe clenched a fist on the table. "But she had six hundred Fatui soldiers with her! Signora doesn't vanish like this. She can't."

Pierro's voice was cold steel. "Our agents in Mondstadt confirm that a thunderstorm—unnatural, violent—struck the region the night she went missing. That night, she and her entire battalion ceased all communication. No bodies. No survivors."

"They found nothing but the aftermath of a slaughter," said Columbina softly, as though singing a lullaby. "The site was scorched and splintered. Burned tents, scattered weapons, crushed stone. There were signs of battle… but no remains."

"Were there any clues about the attackers?" asked Capitano, ever the tactician.

Columbina tilted her head. "Some claim it was the Abyss Order. Others, hilichurl tribes from the Gorge. But none of it adds up. Not with such precision. Not with such silence."

"But Signora is no fool," said Childe, his voice rising. "She'd have escaped if things turned dire."

"She may not have had the chance," Pulcinella muttered, stroking his beak-like nose. "You forget how easily arrogance becomes a weakness."

Sandrone, who had thus far remained quiet, spoke now. "This feels like the reports I got from Inazuma. The Fatui camps there were razed without warning. Blood in the water. Bodies torn apart."

Childe nodded grimly. "I remember. That's when Signora and I agreed the only one who could have done it… was Momon."

"But wasn't he fighting the Electro Archon then?" asked Pulcinella with a cocked brow.

Arlecchino leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "The massacres occurred the night before the battle with Raiden Shogun. That was what shook us the most."

"Enough!" Pierro's voice cracked like a whip. He stood, slamming a gloved hand on the table. His fury was not loud, but it was absolute.

"Do you not see the pattern?" he hissed. "Since the moment this Momon arrived in Mondstadt, we've been losing ground. Our operations in Liyue were compromised. Inazuma's outposts were eradicated. And now? Rosalyne is gone. Six hundred soldiers, gone."

The room fell into a cold silence.

"Each of us here has our agendas," Pierro continued, pacing slowly, "but if we do not address the threat this 'mysterious monster' poses, we will be picked apart, one by one."

"And what of the Tsaritsa?" asked Capitano calmly. "Has Her Majesty been informed?"

Pierro paused. "She is aware. And she expects us to resolve this."

"Then perhaps… we must consider something we never have before," said Arlecchino, rising slowly, a dangerous smirk playing on her lips. "We may need to negotiate with a demon lord."

"No," said Pierro. "Not yet. First… we find out exactly what happened at the ruins. If Rosalyne is dead… then we bring her vengeance. But if she's alive…"

"She won't be," Childe interrupted darkly, his tone devoid of hope. "If Momon wanted her alive, we'd have heard from her."

Columbina's voice, still gentle, was now laced with eerie certainty. "I doubt there's even a soul left to speak."

"I believe Arlecchino's idea is the best for now," Capitano said, his deep voice echoing off the marble columns of the chamber. He leaned forward slightly, the polished black surface of his armor catching the light. "We should attempt to lure Momon to our side."

A hushed murmur moved through the room.

"Giving him the position of a Harbinger, huh…" Columbina mused, brushing a lock of hair from her porcelain face as her lips curved into a haunting smile. "Now that… would be interesting."

Before another word could be uttered, a series of knocks echoed sharply through the chamber doors. It was rare for anyone to interrupt the Harbingers—especially during a private council.

Pierro raised a hand. "Enter."

The heavy doors creaked open. A Fatui agent stepped forward, visibly tense. He dropped to one knee, eyes low. "My lords, forgive me for disturbing your meeting, but… a survivor has been found. One from Lady Signora's command."

"What?!" Pierro snapped to his feet, his voice thunderous.

The other Harbingers turned their gazes sharply to the messenger, the atmosphere in the chamber instantly becoming colder—tense with alarm and anticipation.

Another agent followed, a younger woman cradling a box in both hands. The box was smooth, black wood with delicate silver fittings and a crimson wax seal impressed with the sigil of the Fatui.

"She brought this with her," the woman explained, her voice trembling slightly. "We did not dare open it. It was marked clearly: 'Only for the Harbingers.'"

Pierro narrowed his one visible eye. "Bring the survivor in. Now."

The first agent looked up slowly, dread painted across his face. "Forgive me, my lord… but she's dead. She… she slit her throat in the bath chambers. Ten minutes ago."

A stunned silence fell like a guillotine blade.

Columbina blinked slowly, still and serene, but her haunting smile had faded. Childe clenched his fists, standing halfway up from his seat.

"She killed herself?!" Pierro barked.

"Why would she carry this box only to die moments later?" murmured Sandrone, coldly analytical. "What did she see?"

"What the hell is going on here?!" Childe exclaimed again, unable to keep his voice from rising.

Pantalone, ever composed, adjusted his gloves. "Perhaps what's in the box is the answer."

"But… it's for the Harbingers only," the agent holding the box stammered.

"Just open it," Pierro commanded, his voice as sharp as frostbite.

The agent hesitated, swallowing hard. He moved slowly to the woman still holding the box and carefully removed the seal and lid. As he peeked inside, his face twisted in horror. The female agent beside him let out a bloodcurdling scream and dropped the box, which hit the marble floor with a hollow thud and swung open.

The Harbingers all rose to their feet. Their eyes fell upon the grim contents laid bare before them.

Inside the velvet-lined box was the severed head of La Signora—Rosalyne Lohefalter. Her beautiful features, usually proud and regal, were now lifeless and twisted in what could only be described as final agony. Her once-fiery eyes were forever frozen open in a look of shock. Around her head were laid delicate Cecilia flowers—symbols of Mondstadt, symbols of remembrance… and of mourning.

"This…" Pierro muttered, stepping forward. His hand trembled slightly before he clenched it into a fist. "This is cruelty beyond anything I've seen."

Columbina stared with unblinking eyes. "A message. Not just murder. This was theatrical. Emotional. Personal."

Childe's heart raced, his blood cold. "Even if I didn't agree with her methods, she was still one of us. This… this is a declaration of war."

The box lay open in the center of their war council like an altar of doom. Silence hung in the air, broken only by the shallow, horrified breaths of the Fatui agents still kneeling near the box.

"Take her," Pierro finally said, voice low and hollow. "Prepare a proper funeral for the Eighth Harbinger. Send word to the Tsaritsa. She must know what's happened."

"Yes, my lord!" the agents quickly moved, lifting the box as if it weighed the world, and exited without another word.

The chamber remained silent for a long moment.

Pierro sat down slowly, folding his gloved hands together in front of his mouth. When he spoke, his tone was that of ice and finality.

"There is only one culprit for this atrocity. The Honorary Knight… Momon."

Arlecchino's eye twitched slightly. "He sees us as enemies to be eliminated, not bargained with. This isn't a diplomatic statement—it's a warning. And a challenge."

Capitano nodded. "He has struck down one of us. A Harbinger. If we do nothing, we show weakness."

"But if we act carelessly," Pulcinella rasped, "we might lose even more. We still don't understand what he is. What feeds that power."

Columbina turned to Pierro, her voice soft, yet layered with meaning. "So… do we still try to make him one of us?"

Pierro didn't respond for several long moments. Then he said, low and grim, "We will discuss that… after we bury Rosalyne."

"If you tame it wrong," said Capitano, his voice like rolling thunder, "it will bite the hand that fed it."

Childe looked down at the table, fists clenched. His voice trembled, not with fear—but fury.

"Then we better make sure it's a clean kill."

The war against Nazarick had become a personal matter.

The midday sun bathed the city of Liyue Harbor in golden warmth, its rays glimmering off the tiled rooftops and casting soft shadows through the busy marketplace. Merchants called out their wares, spices wafted through the air, and the gentle din of human life echoed along the portside streets.

Amid the lively bustle, one corner of the city stood out with an air of refinement. A recently opened shop next to Ying'er's famed perfume stall had begun attracting curious locals. It bore no extravagant signs, but the unique craftsmanship of its intricate tools, elegant trinkets, and mysterious contraptions drew the eye. The woman behind the counter was polite, quiet, and beautiful in an ethereal, untouchable way.

She called herself Xianyun—a graceful, tall woman with an air of timeless wisdom and practiced calm. Few knew the truth: she was none other than the ancient Adeptus, Cloud Retainer, who had cast aside her immortal solitude and descended fully into the mortal world to live among humans.

The days of the Adepti lording over Liyue were over. The death of Rex Lapis had left a chasm in the heavens, and their crushing defeat at the hands of the Honorary Knight—no, the monster called Momon—had forced Cloud Retainer to confront a truth she could no longer ignore.

They had failed. And he had proven what true power looked like.

Now, she wished not to rule, but to understand. And perhaps, to heal.

She stepped outside her shop, stretching her arms lightly, her long sleeves flowing in the breeze like wings. Shenhe, her pale-haired disciple, stood nearby adjusting a display of herbal amulets.

"Let us take a break," Xianyun said with a gentle smile. "I believe I saw a dumpling stall near the harbor I would like to try."

Shenhe gave a nod. "Of course, Master."

But as Xianyun took her second step into the street, a sudden, oppressive presence crashed down upon her like a thunderclap.

Her body froze. The air turned heavier than stone, and the sun above seemed to dim behind invisible clouds. An overwhelming force—vast, ancient, and merciless—brushed past her senses.

She turned her head, slowly, like a marionette under the weight of a divine command.

And there, across the street, parting the crowd with silent, chilling reverence, was Momon.

Towering. Silent. Cloaked in a gothic cascade of black and crimson. His ornate, emotionless mask stared back at her like a void—an abyss that judged all and forgave none.

The citizens, once cheerful and chatty, instinctively fell silent. No one dared to speak. Some stepped aside, trembling, their breaths caught in their throats. Whispers passed between lips in disbelief.

"Is that… him?"

"The slayer of Osial…"

"The black knight…"

The sound of footsteps ceased. Birds fled. Even the sea seemed to hush.

Xianyun's breath caught as her beautiful eyes met the crimson gleam behind his mask. Her heart thudded with instinctual dread—the kind no mortal should ever feel… and no Adeptus ever expected to know.

"Momon…" she whispered, the name barely audible as it left her lips, dry and uncertain. It was not just recognition. It was fear. Memory. Humility.

His boots echoed against the stone street as he moved toward her, slow and purposeful. He wasn't walking with malice. He didn't need to.

His very presence was domination.

As Momon strode past, the shadow of his imposing form stretched alongside the tiled street, passing just beside Xianyun and Shenhe. The wind tugged gently at his cloak, whispering through the alleyways like a quiet herald of something otherworldly.

Then, a voice—clear, calm, and surprisingly steady—broke the hush between them.

"Mo–Momon?" Shenhe called.

Xianyun blinked, her expression subtly shifting. Her cold, distant disciple had spoken first. That, in itself, was rare enough to warrant surprise.

Momon paused in his step and slowly turned his head. The smooth, magical surface of his mask glinted faintly in the sunlight, and the eerie crimson dots within his eye sockets locked onto Shenhe.

"Oh, it's you… Shenhe, right?" His voice was calm, low, and carried with it the kind of weight that pressed down on the soul.

Shenhe nodded, maintaining eye contact despite the pit forming in her stomach. "Yes. It has been some time since the disturbance in Liyue. At the harbor."

A small silence passed between them. Then Momon gave a subtle nod. "Good to see you well, Shenhe. You were one of the few who held your ground. I remember that."

The compliment, rare and unexpected, made Shenhe's breath hitch for just a second. She gave a respectful nod. "Thank you."

Xianyun, now composed again, stepped forward and offered a slight bow, her sleeves flowing like clouds with the motion.

"Greetings, Honorary Knight. One is honored to meet you again in such… peaceful times."

Momon tilted his head slightly toward her. "You are that… Adeptus, I believe?" he said with faint recognition in his tone.

"True," Xianyun admitted with measured calm, "but I have taken a new name here: Xianyun. I live among the people now. They know me only as a craftsman and shopkeeper. To them, I am no more than a mortal."

She stepped closer and spoke softly, her voice carrying a gentle weight. "I would be grateful if you maintained that illusion."

Momon's gaze lingered on her, unreadable behind his mask. Then he gave a slow, understanding nod. "Oh, I see. Just like me… you've chosen to conceal your true nature. I respect that."

A faint smile tugged at the edge of Xianyun's lips. "Perhaps some truths only burden those who carry them."

Momon crossed his arms. "Indeed. The fewer eyes drawn to what you are, the longer you'll get to live peacefully."

Xianyun then asked, "One is curious… what brings you to Liyue this time?"

Momon glanced at the harbor far below them. "I'm en route to Sumeru. I promised Aether and Paimon that I'd rejoin them as soon as possible after leaving Inazuma. But… I had unfinished business in Mondstadt that couldn't be ignored."

"Business?" Shenhe asked quietly. "Was it… serious?"

Momon's silence was heavy. His crimson eyes burned softly through the mask.

"It ended with a message. One that needed to be sent loud and clear."

Neither Shenhe nor Xianyun asked further. There was something final in his tone, something that didn't invite prying.

"One has heard of your battle with the Electro Archon," Xianyun said, steering the conversation gently elsewhere. "Some say that day was… a clash of gods."

Momon let out a short, tired breath through his helm. "Raiden Shogun is indeed powerful. Cold, absolute. Like a sword that never stops falling."

"But you defeated her," Shenhe said. Her voice was still calm, but something almost reverent lingered in her tone. "That's what everyone says. They call it… legendary."

Momon shook his head slightly. "They always say that. 'Legendary.' 'Epic.' But the people who talk like that... they don't know what it feels like."

He looked up at the sky, the clouds parting above like torn silk. "Let me tell you something—you both know this better than most—when you're really in battle, there's nothing poetic about it. It's not grand or glorious. It's fear, blood, and silence. You blink, and it's over. One misstep, one arrow, one mistake…"

His voice dropped lower, almost like he was speaking to himself now.

"…and you're dead. There's no music. No pageantry. Just pain."

Xianyun's expression darkened slightly. "It is as you say. War is not glory. It is consequence. A reckoning. And it never leaves you unchanged."

Momon met her eyes. "That's why I don't relish any of it. I do what must be done. But I don't mistake it for something noble."

Shenhe lowered her gaze, reflecting on her own battles—her own near-death moments, the quiet suffering she buried behind a stoic face.

Xianyun sighed, her voice turning introspective. "Perhaps… the more we understand that truth, the closer we come to being human."

Momon's masked face turned slightly as if considering her words.

"Maybe," he said after a pause. "But don't mistake me for one. I'm no god. No man. Just… something else entirely."

He turned, the wind catching his cloak once more as he stepped forward, toward the harbor and the ship bound for Sumeru.

"Stay safe, Shenhe. Xianyun. Liyue is quiet now… keep it that way."

Just as Momon began to walk away, his cape flowing like a veil of shadow behind him, Xianyun's voice rang out again, clear and poised.

"Wait, Momon!"

He halted, his armored boots clinking softly against the stone pavement. Turning his head over his shoulder, the faint shimmer of crimson eyes within his mask settled back on the Adeptus-turned-mortal.

"Yes?"

Xianyun stepped forward, her movement graceful and fluid, like the breeze over the high peaks where she once dwelled as Cloud Retainer.

"One was curious… how do you intend to reach the borders of Sumeru?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, her eyes inquisitive but calm.

Momon glanced skyward briefly, as if measuring the horizon by instinct alone.

"I… don't really know," he admitted with a shrug of one broad shoulder. "I planned to ask for directions and then fly west. Simple as that."

"Fly?" Xianyun's brow arched elegantly. "You speak of soaring across vast regions of Teyvat with no map, no supply, and no escort?"

"Pretty much," said Momon, nonchalant. "My magic will keep me fed. I can fly for weeks if needed. I don't get tired. I'll figure it out along the way."

There was a pause, followed by a small, exasperated sigh from the adeptus. "As pragmatic as ever. Yet, still reckless."

She stepped closer and clasped her hands before her waist. Her golden eyes met the dark void of his helm.

"One shall assist you. I will accompany you to the borders of Sumeru."

Momon blinked once. "Really? Are you sure? I mean, you've just started living among mortals. Don't you have work in the shop?"

Xianyun gave a soft, knowing smile. "Nothing that cannot be managed in my absence. After all, one does not simply abandon a friend… or a wandering enigma like yourself."

She turned to her side, where Shenhe had remained silent but alert.

"Shenhe, you will tend to the workshop while I'm away. Manage the clients. Keep the lanterns oiled. And… make sure Ying'er doesn't try to flirt her way into getting discounts again."

"Yes, master," said Shenhe, bowing respectfully. "I will maintain everything in your stead. And I will keep the mortals from asking too many questions."

Xianyun nodded, clearly trusting her disciple. Then she looked back at Momon.

"Besides… there are many storms rising in the west. I would like to see with my own eyes what kind of chaos brews in the jungle nation. And I sense your presence may stir the winds even further."

Momon considered her words for a moment before giving a simple nod. "All right. I'd be glad for the company."

"Then it is settled," Xianyun replied, her tone elegant, yet spirited. "One shall prepare for the journey. I only require one hour."

"I'll wait on the rooftop by the harbor," said Momon, gesturing toward the tallest structure near the water's edge. "The wind's always good up there."

Xianyun offered him a final look—half curious, half amused. "Try not to scare the seagulls."

Momon chuckled faintly. "No promises."

With that, he vanished down the street like a specter lost to the breeze.

Two hours had passed since their departure, their forms carving two streaks across the cerulean sky of southwest Liyue. The towering cliffs, hidden ruins, and emerald valleys passed beneath them like distant dreams. Xianyun, in her crane form, was a graceful vision of celestial elegance; her silver-white wings stretched wide, feathers catching the golden sunlight as they fluttered gently in the high-altitude breeze. Momon flew alongside her—his black cape billowing, propelled effortlessly by an arcane item that glowed faintly with ethereal energy, trailing shadows behind him like a comet birthed from darkness.

Suddenly, Xianyun veered slightly and gestured with one wing. "Momon, let's land there for a moment!"

He gave no protest and descended alongside her. Their feet touched down atop the highest cliff overlooking the Qingxu Pool, where an ancient tree, gnarled and enormous, spread its roots over cracked stone. Its leaves rustled faintly, whispering with the voice of the wind. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, leaving gentle dapples of light across the mossy stones. Beneath them, the waters of the ruined pools shimmered like glass, hiding forgotten relics beneath their surface.

Momon turned toward her, his tone tinged with curiosity and faint concern. "What is it, Xianyun? Your wings got tired?"

"Huh," she scoffed, transforming into her human form in a swirl of feathers and light. "Absolutely not! One's wings are as tireless as the clouds. The Chasm is just ahead, not far at all."

She stepped forward, her robe flowing behind her in the breeze. But there was a tension in her shoulders that hadn't been there during the flight.

"The reason one chose to stop here is… troubling." Her expression shifted—solemn, cautious.

Momon, always calm behind his dark mask, crossed his arms. "I'm listening."

Xianyun hesitated, her fingers brushing a strand of silver-blue hair behind her ear. "While working in the workshop in Liyue Harbor, one saw someone… someone I believed long gone."

Her voice was quiet now, almost a whisper.

"Rex Lapis. Morax. He was walking the streets as a mortal. Breathing, thinking, alive."

Momon did not say anything at that moment. He knows that Morax was not dead, and it was his failed plan that caused all that disturbance, almost putting the nation into a civil war between the Adepti and the Liyue Qixing.

"Is that right? And you know he calls himself Zhongli as a normal citizen, right?" asked Momon.

Xianyun's head snapped toward him. "Wait… you knew? You knew all along?"

He gave a single, slow nod.

"You knew he wasn't dead… while the rest of us mourned him?! While we fought for his honor, while we questioned ourselves and each other?!" Her voice rose—not in rage, but in deep, anguished betrayal. "You knew?!"

"Well, I… or should I say Aether, found out accidentally after the mess with the Adepti and Osial. Apparently, Zhongli had a contract with the Cryo Archon 500 years ago…" Momon explained to Xianyun about Zhongli's collaboration with the Fatui, the plan about his fake death, and fulfilling the contract with the Tsaritsa, which ended with giving his Gnosis to the Cryo Archon.

Xianyun was at a loss for words to describe this event.

"I heard all of this in that room while using my invisibility magic… My arrival in Liyue seems to have destroyed his plan. He just wanted the Adepti and the humans to work together even after his "death", but it backfired since the Adepti blamed the humans for his death," said Momon.

She turned her back on him, hugging herself against the wind. "There was no need for all of this. We would have followed him. We trusted him… loved him."

She turned to him, eyes searching his crimson gaze. "And what do you think?"

Momon looked out across the expanse of Liyue's wildlands. "I think… even gods can be cowards."

That made her pause.

"But I also think they're allowed to be," he added. "He made a decision to fade away. He didn't count on someone like me interfering."

Xianyun's voice broke the stillness. Her tone was calm, but the undercurrent of emotion was unmistakable.

"Knew it…" she murmured. "Talking with you about this… it has made one's worries dissipate, like mist under sunlight." Her gaze remained fixed on the distant silhouette of Liyue Harbor, a golden smudge beyond the clouds. "But still… One does not know if one should confront him. For I fear…" She lowered her head. "…that I might attack him. For what he has done. For what he allowed us to suffer."

Momon stood beside her, arms folded, his expression hidden behind his dark mask. But his voice, when he answered, was low and steady.

"Give it time," he said.

Chapter Text

The winds howled over the lip of the Chasm's great maw as Momon and Xianyun descended slowly into its depths. They flew in silence, save for the ambient whisper of wind rushing past their cloaks and feathers. The jagged cliffs of the Chasm rose around them like the cracked ribs of a long-dead titan, ancient and unmoving, basking in the eerie stillness that cloaked the land.

Below, the Chasm's basin stretched outward like a crater from the heavens. The ground was cracked, uneven—scarred by time and the unnatural. Rusted scaffolds, broken wooden carts, and shattered crates littered the area like discarded bones of industry. Old mining gear lay forgotten and half-buried beneath stone dust and creeping weeds. The smell of minerals and something fouler—something wrong—lingered faintly on the air.

Momon's red eyes scanned the terrain as he descended in a smooth arc behind Xianyun, who had already taken her human form. The faint shimmer of transformation settled from her shoulders like a silk shawl.

"Come," she said, gesturing toward a narrow ravine at the far end of the crater. "One shall show you the path that leads to Sumeru. Beneath these cliffs lies a tunnel long abandoned but still intact."

Momon's boots touched the cracked earth, and he followed beside her with practiced calm.

"What happened here?" he asked, noting the worn and dilapidated state of the machines and rails. "This place looks like it was forgotten decades ago."

"One does not know the details," Xianyun replied softly, her voice echoing slightly off the stone walls. "But Ganyu mentioned that by the decree of the Liyue Qixing, the Chasm was sealed off. They claim it is due to frequent earthquakes and a strange substance they call Dark Mud."

Momon's eyes "narrowed" behind the mask. "Dark Mud?"

She nodded. "A black ooze. A form of Abyssal corruption… poisonous to the soul and treacherous to the mind. It swallows reason and light alike."

But before they could reach the tunnel ahead, Momon stopped walking. He did not speak for several seconds, his hand slightly raising.

Xianyun raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

"We're not alone," he said coldly.

Xianyun's eyes narrowed, and she scanned the area. Then, like predators emerging from a silent ambush, men began stepping out from behind the rocks, their movements deliberate and coordinated. Ragged cloaks. Concealed faces. Foreign steel. One… two… twenty… fifty… over a hundred and fifty men. They were surrounded in seconds, forming a shifting circle around them.

"Treasure Hoarders?" Xianyun's brows furrowed. "The Chasm is meant to be sealed… How did these scoundrels get in?"

They wore no insignias, but their weapons and gear—Delusions, components etched with Fatui runes—gave away that these men were far from common criminals. These weren't scavengers. They were trained. Supplied. Paid.

"Gentlemen!" Momon called, his voice dripping with false cheer. "May I help you?"

From the crowd emerged a large, heavyset man with greasy black hair and a wolfish grin.

"Well, well, you must be the so-called Honorary Knight," he said with a mocking chuckle, resting a massive cleaver on his shoulder. "There's a bounty on your head, masked freak."

"Oh?" Momon tilted his head slightly, amused. "So you've traded your shovels for bounty hunting? Impressive. There's quite a crowd. The price must be generous. Who sent it? The Fatui?"

"You'll find out when you're dead," the man growled. "The reward's enough to live like a king in Fontaine."

Xianyun's gaze sharpened. Her Adepti blood burned just beneath the skin, ancient and divine. She stepped forward defiantly. "Remove yourselves from our path, or face the consequences, wretches!"

The fat man's smile twisted with cruel delight. "Shut up, bitch!" the fat man snapped. "We'll have our fun with you later!"

Momon sighed. "Now, now. That's no way to speak to a lady."

Momon slowly raised his hand—and between his fingers, a coin materialized out of thin air. Not Mora, no. It shimmered strangely, made of a luster that none of the Treasure Hoarders recognized.

The coin was flawless. Ancient and divine. One side bore the World Tree YGGDRASIL, a serpent coiled beneath its roots. The other showed the profile of a winged Valkyrie, her eyes blank and distant. Around the coin, in a language unknown to Teyvat, were runes in Latin script: YGGDRASIL. 2126.

The hoarders stared.

Momon twirled it lazily. "Let me make it fun for us."

He raised the coin high. "If it lands on heads… you all die. If it lands on tails… you all die. Because frankly, I don't care either way."

He flipped it into the air.

The coin rose—spinning, glinting—and then… everything stopped.

Time warped. Froze.

The wind halted mid-blow. Dust particles suspended in midair like motes of light. The expressions of over a hundred Treasure Hoarders were frozen in that singular moment before battle—some angry, some terrified, all unaware.

Only Momon moved.

He stepped forward silently. Then in a blur, he was everywhere—an unnatural storm of death. His cloak danced like ink across water as he blinked from one man to the next. No wasted motion. No mercy. One arcane slash, a single twist of his wrist, and heads flew from shoulders, blood frozen in midair before it could fall. The heavyset man who led them never saw it coming—his head was removed so cleanly it remained atop his shoulders for another heartbeat before sliding off with a dull thud.

Less than three seconds had passed.

Momon reappeared at the center of the circle, the coin descending in slow motion as his blade vanished back into nothingness.

Time resumed.

The coin struck the earth. Heads.

A wind gust howled. Over 150 bodies collapsed to the ground in near perfect unison, the red mist of their demise splashing the rocks like abstract artwork.

Xianyun blinked. She had not moved. Her face showed no fear—only deep, bewildered awe.

The Honorary Knight calmly bent down, picked up the golden coin, and tucked it into a dimensional pouch.

He turned to Xianyun. "Well… that was heads."

Xianyun said nothing at first. She was still processing the overwhelming massacre. Her lips parted, her expression unreadable.

"You… You killed them all in less than a blink…" she whispered.

"I don't like being interrupted," said Momon simply. "Especially not by amateurs.

Xianyun exhaled slowly. "That… was terrifying."

Momon turned to her. "It was a waste of time. But sometimes… people need a message carved in blood."

She nodded faintly. "One forgets sometimes… that you are no ordinary mortal."

There was nothing mortal about this entity.

"Let's go. You were saying something about a tunnel?"

Xianyun slowly nodded. "This way… It's not far."

The jagged stones of the Chasm finally gave way to a vast tunnel carved by both time and mysterious forces. Momon and Xianyun moved cautiously through its darkness. Ancient lanterns lay toppled and shattered along the walls, their flames long extinguished. Roots and wild vines had claimed the tunnel like a tomb.

A few steps in, they were met by clusters of Fungi—bioluminescent, oddly animate mushroom creatures that glowed with eerie colors. They swayed, sensing prey.

Before Xianyun could raise her hand, Momon was already gone in a blur of shadows.

Steel flashed.

The Fungi creatures were bisected in an instant—clean, surgical slashes of void-black magic cutting through them as though they were parchment. Their glowing remains scattered across the stone floor like dying embers.

"I could have helped, you know," Xianyun remarked as they resumed walking.

"I know," replied Momon calmly. "But some things are better handled with a whisper than a song."

Time passed in silence as they moved through the ever-darkening passage. The deeper they went, the more the air began to change—from the cold dampness of the Chasm to a subtle warmth carrying the scent of wild orchids and moss. It felt like walking between worlds.

And then, without warning, the tunnel opened.

What awaited them on the other side was nothing like Momon expected.

A forest—alive with sound, color, and light. Towering trees crowned with wide emerald canopies stretched toward the sky. Delicate beams of sunlight pierced through the gaps in the leaves like golden spears. Flowers bloomed in impossible hues, and birds unknown to Liyue sang strange, beautiful songs.

For a moment, even Momon stood still.

He stepped forward, the thick grass muffling his armored boots. His red eyes scanned the vibrant wilderness.

"Blue Planet would have loved this…" he murmured, almost too softly to hear.

But Xianyun, walking beside him in her human form, caught the name.

She turned slightly. "Blue Planet? Is that… a person?"

Momon's voice lingered with the echo of memory. "Yes. A dear friend. A comrade from long ago. He loved nature—so much so that we used to tease him for it. Forests, lakes, even small gardens. He'd stop during missions just to admire a flower no one else noticed."

His mask gave away nothing, but Xianyun didn't need to see his face. She could hear it in his voice—a quiet sorrow buried deep, as old as time.

She placed a gentle hand on his armored shoulder. "He must have meant a great deal to you."

"He did," said Momon, eyes still on the trees. "It's strange. I've seen forests before… but this one, something about it brought him back to me."

They stood in silence for a moment, letting the forest breathe around them.

Then Xianyun stepped back and folded her arms within her long sleeves. "Well… one thinks this is as far as I go."

Momon turned, looking directly at her.

"You've brought me this far. I'm grateful. But… I would feel bad knowing you had to fly all the way back to Liyue alone."

Xianyun scoffed playfully. "Oh please, one does not suffer from such trivial fatigue–"

But she trailed off, her golden eyes locking onto the dark portal that suddenly appeared beside Momon. Its edges rippled like water, and arcane runes glowed faintly along the swirling black surface.

"What… what is that?" she asked, taking a cautious step back.

"It's called [Gate]. A teleportation spell," said Momon casually, as though conjuring rifts through space was no more difficult than lighting a lantern. "Pass through, and you'll be back at your shop in Liyue. No need to flap your wings."

Xianyun hesitated, her eyes fixed on the portal. "You truly are full of surprises…"

Momon simply nodded. "I meant it when I said I respected your choice to live among humans. This world needs people like you more than it knows."

She was touched, even flustered. With a small nod, she stepped toward the portal. "Well… one thanks you for your kindness. And your magic. It never ceases to impress me, Momon."

"Take care, Xianyun."

She smiled faintly, eyes glowing in the portal's dim light. Then, with a breath, she stepped through.

There was a brief sensation—like being pulled through a ripple in a pond, the air humming with raw power. She closed her eyes against the rushing sound of magic.

When she opened them—

She was standing in front of her workshop in Liyue Harbor. The sun was bright, birds chirped, and Shenhe was sweeping the path as if nothing had happened.

Xianyun turned around.

The portal was gone.

She raised her hand, almost expecting to still feel the energy on her fingertips.

"…Momon," she murmured to herself. "You are truly… unlike anyone I have ever known."

And far away, deep in the forest of Sumeru, Momon stood alone—surrounded by trees and memories.

"So this is Sumeru, huh…"

Momon's voice echoed faintly through the lush forest as he stepped out from the dark tunnel that marked the end of the treacherous path through the Chasm. Verdant green spread endlessly before him—moss-coated trees stood tall like ancient guardians, while the air was thick with the scent of foliage and the faint hum of unseen insects.

He paused, taking in the symphony of chirping birds and rustling leaves, and tilted his head slightly as if surveying the unfamiliar world with his unseen gaze. A gentle breeze swept through his cloak, carrying with it the earthy fragrance of the jungle soil.

"Hmph." He rotated his skull slowly. "Do people… actually use this tunnel?"

The idea seemed ridiculous to him. That route had been exhausting even for someone like him—well, not physically, but logistically. Twists, traps, remnants of underground ruins, and some areas nearly impossible to pass without flight. For a normal human, it would have been a death trap.

"Maybe only the insane adventurers—or the desperate ones," he mused aloud, the dry amusement in his tone echoing softly in the quiet. "But I suppose most of the trade happens through ports. More civilized that way."

As he floated just a few feet above the ground, Momon's gaze caught something unusual—a tall outcrop of rock, crowned by a soft emerald glow. His attention sharpened. Atop the high formation, partially veiled by ivy and blooming wildflowers, stood a familiar structure—a Statue of The Seven.

"Well, hello there," he muttered. "Whoever you are…"

In a single, silent burst of motion, Momon lifted into the air, his cloak trailing like a shadow behind him. He landed gracefully atop the rock, boots barely disturbing the moss that had grown thick around the statue. The massive stone effigy depicted a serene woman seated on a stylized leaf, her delicate face resting upon a glowing orb, hands folded gently over it in a gesture of deep thought or guidance. The green hue that radiated from the sphere cast light like fireflies dancing around the edges of the statue.

"The Dendro Archon… the God of Wisdom, I presume," Momon said quietly, standing before the statue in reverence—not of faith, but of curiosity.

"I wonder," he said to himself. "As an undead… can I even hold this element?" His voice was soft, contemplative. "Let's find out."

He raised his gloved hand and placed it on the glowing orb.

Instantly, the statue pulsed with vibrant light. The green aura flared brighter, swirling around his arm like vines seeking life. A warm sensation—not physical, but something deeper, magical—flooded through his body. It surged into his bones, through the dark armor that concealed his skeletal form.

He inhaled sharply—more out of instinct than necessity. "It worked?" he asked himself aloud. His thoughts began to race.

He opened his status screen, and to his astonishment, one of the lines glowed faintly—his healing magic stat had increased.

"…That doesn't make sense," he said, blinking at the green numbers. "I'm a fucking undead.

And yet, here it was. No pain. Just an inexplicable boost.

"This feels like… YGGDRASIL." He narrowed his eyes. "Like I just earned EXP for a sub-class or unlocked a secret skill tree."

It was then that he noticed something else.

"This… merged with my [Battle Cleric] class?" He stared at his gauntlet in disbelief.

That class had been largely ignored. His role as an overlord of death and destruction rarely needed the support or buffs of a cleric. And yet now… the Dendro energy was breathing new life into a forgotten path—literally.

His mind drifted for a moment. Back to his guild days. Back to a time when one of their more chaotic members, the Beast King Mekongawa, had designed the NPC Lupusregina Beta—a loyal, bloodthirsty werewolf with healing powers. That crazy combination had seemed laughable once, but now? He understood it a little better.

"Strange world," he whispered.

Shaking his head to dispel the creeping nostalgia, Momon raised his hand once more and conjured a small wisp of Dendro energy. It coalesced around his palm, delicate like firefly light, but filled with vitality. The green dust sparkled like a piece of the night sky had been brought down to earth.

"I should test this properly."

Descending from the rock in one smooth motion, he landed silently on the forest floor below. Not far away, he spotted a dead tree—gnarled, its bark split and blackened, roots exposed and cracked. A corpse among the vibrant forest.

Momon walked toward it slowly.

"This should suffice…"

He knelt by the roots and extended his glowing hand toward them. As soon as his fingers made contact, the forest responded.

A low hum resonated from the tree. A pale green light spread through its roots like veins pulsing with newfound life. Then it began to grow.

And it didn't stop.

The roots pushed into the ground with immense force, burrowing deep, splitting stone and soil alike. The trunk began to swell, bark healing and thickening with every passing second. Branches surged upward in wild spirals, sprouting thousands of leaves that shimmered in the sunlight.

Within mere moments, the dead tree became a towering colossus of emerald. Birds scattered from nearby trees, chirping in protest as their once-dominant perches were overshadowed. The great canopy now reached high enough to cast even the Statue of the Seven in shade.

"Wait… no, no. This is too much!" Momon stepped back in alarm.

He immediately severed the connection, withdrawing the Dendro energy from the root system. The growth halted, but the damage—if one could call it that—was done.

The tree now stood as a massive natural monument, a sentinel in the forest. It reminded Momon of Windrise in Mondstadt—the great tree at the heart of that meadow—but this one was even larger.

Momon looked up at the new titan and exhaled.

He pinched the bridge of his nasal cavity, though there was no nose. "Oh, for fuck's sake… I just wanted a sample, not a damn cathedral tree."

The birds that had fled began cautiously to return, chirping from the towering branches above.

"This is going to raise questions," Momon grumbled, quickly turning away from the new landmark he had just planted on the border of Sumeru.

He glanced back one more time, watching as butterflies and bees eagerly gathered around the new tree.

"…I really should get going before the forest druids start worshipping it… or me."

Momon followed a faintly worn path that twisted through the dense underbrush. The trail wound between towering trees, their canopies weaving together to blot out much of the sunlight, creating a dim, filtered green hue that bathed the forest floor. Vines hung like drapes across the path, and thick roots threatened to trip the careless with every step. Despite the serene atmosphere, there was always something unsettling about how alive the rainforest seemed—like it was watching.

As he walked, the faint sound of voices reached his ears. Laughter, mixed with the rhythmic sound of boots treading on damp soil. He paused for a moment, turning his skull toward the noise. Soon, the voices became clearer—intellectual chatter, tinged with the arrogance of youth and the exhaustion of hiking. They were speaking of flora classification, a recent field assignment, and Sumeru City's new library opening.

Then, they appeared.

A group of about a dozen young people rounded the bend in the path, their matching uniforms giving away their origin before they even spoke—students of the Sumeru Akademiya. Robes in shades of olive and gold, the traditional colors of the Sages, but ill-suited for the humidity and foliage of the rainforest. Their boots were scuffed with mud, their hats askew from brushing against hanging vines. Some clutched tomes, others tapped on devices inscribed with Dendro script.

At the head of the group was a man in worn desert armor—an Eremite mercenary hired for protection. He had the appearance of someone who'd seen a dozen jungles and fought in all of them, the edge of his scimitar glinting faintly from his hip. His eyes scanned the path ahead with the bored attentiveness of a man who expected more snakes than swords.

But then he saw him.

The moment Momon stepped around the curve in the path, the group halted as one—like a chorus of alarmed deer sensing a predator. The light filtered through the leaves caught the gleam of his black, spiked armor, his cloak fluttering faintly behind him like torn wings of shadow. His hood was drawn low, and beneath it was a dark mask, shaped to resemble an emotionless face—but something about it was wrong, inhuman. The sheer stillness in the way he walked was unsettling, like a phantom or an executioner from an old tale come to life.

The Eremite instinctively stepped forward, hand hovering over his weapon, putting himself between the students and the stranger.

But Momon didn't stop. He didn't even slow down.

There was no tension in his gait, no aggression. Just silent purpose. As he approached, the air around him seemed to grow heavier—oppressive. A suffocating aura, not born of killing intent, but of presence. Like standing near a chasm and not knowing how deep it went.

The students froze.

Those in front pressed instinctively to the side of the path, practically climbing onto roots and rocks to make space. Others behind them followed, whispering nervously. One girl covered her mouth, another clutched a Dendro Vision tight against her chest. The group had unconsciously huddled close together, backs to the trees, as if instinct demanded they leave him as much space as possible.

Momon walked past them wordlessly, his footsteps eerily quiet despite the heavy armor. He didn't turn his head. He gave no acknowledgement. Just passed them like a ghost with no interest in the living.

And when he was finally out of sight—disappearing into the greenery, the cloak fading between branches—the invisible weight lifted, and the jungle exhaled around them.

The Eremite turned to them. "Everyone okay?"

"Y-Yeah… I think so," muttered one male student, still pale.

"What in the name of the Dendro Archon was that?" another gasped, pressing a hand to his chest.

"He wasn't normal," said a girl with trembling hands. "That armor… that mask… That was like something out of a nightmare."

"Did you feel that pressure?" another student whispered. "Like… like we were being watched by death itself."

"I couldn't even breathe when he got close," said another, clutching her satchel tight.

The Eremite narrowed his eyes, staring in the direction the armored man had vanished. "That wasn't a bandit. And it wasn't a Fatui either. That man… if he is a man… isn't someone you want to cross."

"Was he… from the Akademiya?" one student asked timidly.

"No. No scholar walks with the silence of a predator," said the Eremite. "That one is a monster in human skin."

A moment of silence passed, then the Eremite clapped his hands. "Alright, all of you—enough! Eyes forward!"

Reluctantly, the students pulled themselves away from the edge of the path and began walking again—this time, a little closer together. A little quieter. And though they wouldn't say it out loud, more than a few of them would remember this day not for their assignment… but for the moment they encountered him—the black-clad phantom who walked like death itself through the jungles of Sumeru.

Momon had initially intended to ask the group of students for directions, but the moment he caught the way they recoiled from him—the fear in their wide eyes, the subtle but unmistakable shift in the Eremite bodyguard's stance—he dismissed the idea. There would be no civil conversation here. They were moments away from drawing weapons out of instinct, and it wasn't worth the trouble.

So he continued walking down the winding path, the rainforest closing in around him with every step.

It wasn't long before the treeline began to thin, and the lush undergrowth gave way to signs of habitation. A soft mist lingered in the air as wooden platforms, winding staircases, and bridges made of vine and woven rope came into view, suspended among the trees like a village built in harmony with the wild.

Gandharva Ville.

A quaint name for a place teeming with life and intellect.

Wooden huts clung to the branches of an enormous central tree that stood like the heart of the jungle. Its bark was etched with glowing script and lanterns hung from branches like fireflies. Students of the Akademiya moved between structures with scrolls and plant samples. Forest Rangers patrolled the walkways or adjusted irrigation lines that nurtured rare herbs along the mossy walls.

But all of it stopped the moment he arrived.

Momon's footfalls echoed with unnatural clarity on the wooden path. Every eye turned. Conversations died. Even the birds in the trees took flight in a panicked flurry, as if his aura had triggered a survival instinct.

"Hey, check this guy…" one forest ranger whispered, squinting through the mist.

"That person has to be taller than Mr. Alhaitham…" murmured a local herbalist, jaw slack.

"Dude, look at the mask!"

"Shh! Don't talk so loud, he might hear you!"

Momon paid them no mind. He walked with silent purpose, towering over every soul present. His dark armor shimmered with a dull sheen of green light filtered through the canopy, and his long, ragged cloak trailed behind him like a shadow with form. The mask, with its emotionless facade, did not turn toward the onlookers—but the weight of his presence seemed to linger on them regardless.

He ascended the central ramp toward the heart of Gandharva Ville. The massive tree at its center stretched up to the heavens, with wooden walkways branching out like the limbs of a divine being. Houses were suspended from thick roots and reinforced with braided vines, each one shaped like pinecones or seedpods made into living quarters.

This feels like a wood elf village, Momon thought, not a human settlement.

From one of the larger homes nestled into the trunk of the central tree, a door opened, and a figure stepped out.

A humanoid man, slender and dignified, with soft green hair that faded into black and light streaks that caught the sun. His fox-like ears twitched sharply, and his two-toned green tail flicked once—like a wild creature sensing danger. His eyes—sharply intelligent and attentive—were already locked on Momon's advancing form.

He senses it, Momon noted silently. This one is different.

Tighnari stood still for a heartbeat, then made his way toward the ramp, descending with light steps that contrasted Momon's heavy, deliberate gait.

As the two neared, the contrast became even more stark—Tighnari, dressed in greens and golds, a creature of the forest. Momon, clad in shadow and steel, an aberration against the natural world.

Tighnari came to a stop and looked up. Momon loomed over him by nearly two full heads, his faceless mask and the dark void behind it impossible to read.

"Greetings there, stranger," Tighnari called out, his tone steady but curious.

Momon turned his head slightly, regarding the first person who had spoken to him without fear.

"Hello…" he replied, his voice low and calm, yet it reverberated strangely—like it didn't quite belong in this world.

Tighnari crossed his arms, tail swaying behind him. "Never seen a guy like you around here before. Especially not someone who makes the birds evacuate the tree. My name's Tighnari—Forest Watcher of Gandharva Ville."

"Momon," he responded. "I'm an adventurer from Mondstadt."

Tighnari blinked. "Momon… then that means you're that Momon? Aether's companion? He wasn't exaggerating when he described you."

Momon's interest sharpened. "You've met Aether? And Paimon as well?"

"Yeah, about a week and a half ago. They stayed here for a few days while investigating Akademiya activity. Aether's quite the remarkable traveler. Thoughtful, determined—if a bit reckless."

"That's good to hear." Momon tilted his head. "Then you're the perfect person to ask—do you know where they are now? Or what they're involved in?"

Tighnari's smile faded. His fox-like eyes narrowed, tail stiffening slightly.

"…This isn't a conversation to have out in the open." He turned and motioned toward the structure behind him. "Please, come inside."

Momon didn't respond immediately, but after a second's pause, he followed Tighnari into the treehouse. The interior was cozy but lush—wooden furniture adorned with herbs, scrolls, and natural remedies. A faint floral scent hung in the air, mixed with the soft rustle of leaves outside.

But one detail immediately caught Momon's attention.

On a low bed near the back of the room, a young girl lay asleep. Her body was still, but her face twisted with discomfort and pain. Her skin was pale, and a faint blackish hue crept along her arms like veins of shadow beneath the skin.

"Nice house," said Momon flatly, glancing at the girl. "But you said this was the right place for a conversation. This doesn't look like one."

Tighnari closed the door behind them and walked past Momon without answering, taking a gentle cloth and wiping Collei's brow before finally speaking. "Her name is Collei. She's under my care, a Trainee Forest Ranger… and someone I consider like family."

Momon folded his arms, tilting his head ever so slightly. "What's wrong with her?"

"She was born with a disease called Eleazar—an affliction that has ruined countless lives in Sumeru. But for a time, she was stable. That changed when Aether left. She became withdrawn… and now her condition worsens by the day."

Tighnari sat beside the sleeping girl, his expression heavy with concern. "She met Aether and Paimon. It was the happiest I've seen her. She talked endlessly about her time in Mondstadt, about her friend Amber… It gave her strength."

Momon's stance shifted slightly. "Amber… yes, I know her. She and Aether are… close."

He remembered seeing the two laugh under the stars, Amber practically glowing with admiration as Aether spoke of his travels. It made sense that the girl in the bed would look up to someone like her.

Tighnari nodded slowly. "Collei found hope again, talking to him. But after he left, her condition began to worsen. If it reaches its final stage…"

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to.

"I'm sorry for her," Momon said flatly. "But that's not why I'm here. Where are Aether and Paimon? What are they involved in?"

Tighnari turned and gestured to the chair. "Please. Sit."

Momon took the offered chair with quiet grace, resting one gloved hand on the table while the other perched on his knee. He scanned the room, every detail noted—but his gaze flicked briefly to Tighnari as the Forest Ranger began pouring him a drink.

"There's no need for that," Momon said calmly. "Don't waste your supplies. I don't eat or drink."

Tighnari stopped, slightly surprised. "Really? That… wasn't something Aether ever mentioned."

"Because he's wise enough to keep certain things to himself," Momon replied. "Now… explain. You've been dodging the real issue. Your expression says there's trouble in Sumeru."

Tighnari exhaled and finally took the seat across from him. "You're right. There is trouble—deep, systemic, and dangerous. The Sages of the Akademiya have allied with the Fatui Harbingers. They've kept Lesser Lord Kusanali—the Dendro Archon—isolated in the Sanctuary of Surasthana. Aether and Paimon are working to uncover what they're planning and to free her."

Momon leaned back slightly. " Lesser Lord Kusanali?"

"Yes," said Tighnari. "Though many, myself included until recently, believed that the long-deceased Greater Lord Rukkhadevata was the only deity worth reverence. The Akademiya promoted her memory while ignoring Kusanali's existence. But… I've learned the truth. The Lesser Lord is real—and powerful. She can even possess others' consciousness. She once possessed Aether. That's how I found out."

"That's a troubling thought…" Momon mused. "Possession is no light matter."

Tighnari nodded, tail twitching again. "And it's about to get worse. The Akademiya is tampering with Irminsul."

That name made Momon pause. "Irminsul?"

Tighnari nodded again. "It's Teyvat's World Tree. Deep underground. Connected to Ley Lines, the Dendro Archon's consciousness, and maybe even reality itself. It holds the collective memory of this world, like a vast organic database. But it grows downward, not upward. Its roots are said to pierce the surface in several parts of Teyvat."

Momon sat still for a long moment. YGGDRASIL… The similarity wasn't lost on him. Another world, another tree of life, another buried vault of memory. Was it a coincidence?

"Irminsul… I'll remember that," he said softly. Then, he looked up. "Who are the Harbingers involved?"

"The Balladeer and the Doctor," Tighnari replied, voice taut with distaste. "Collei… she was once his test subject. The Doctor experimented on her, left her with scars—inside and out."

Momon's eyes glowed slightly in the helm's shadows. "So we're dealing with a deranged scientist and Scaramouche—the puppet who once served the Raiden Shogun."

"Exactly," said Tighnari. "And Aether is out there alone in the desert, hunted by the Akademiya's agents—the Matra. His life may be in danger as we speak."

Momon rose from his seat. His towering form cast a long shadow across the floor.

"Then I should not waste any more time."

Tighnari blinked. "You're going after him?"

"Of course," Momon said with cold certainty. "He is my companion. And no god, no Sage, no Harbinger will stop me from reaching him."

"Thank you…" Tighnari whispered. "I know it's not your fight—"

Momon interrupted him, voice firm.

"It is now."

He walked over to Collei's bedside. Tighnari stepped aside as Momon knelt, his armored frame towering even when lowered. He raised one gloved hand, and a faint green sparkle of dendro energy flowed from his palm.

A brief hum of life energy bathed Collei's body. The tension in her muscles loosened, and her breathing calmed. The painful twitch in her brow eased, if only a little.

"She'll be fine for now," Momon said. "But she needs to rest more."

Tighnari was stunned. "You… used Dendro? No… you actually removed Eleazar!?"

"Long story. Another time." Momon turned to the door. "Point me to the desert."

Outside, beneath the shade of thick jungle canopy, two figures lingered just beyond the outer edge of Gandharva Ville. They stood hidden in the underbrush—one in the modest, scholarly robes of an Akademiya student, the other in the rugged, sun-faded garb of an Eremite mercenary. Their positions were careful, tucked behind ferns and thick vines, close enough to observe but far enough not to raise suspicion.

The false student adjusted his round spectacles, his eyes sharp and calculating beneath the mask of scholarly naivety. His Akademiya robes were real—but the man inside them was anything but. He was no scholar. No curious botanist or field researcher. He was one of the many quiet eyes the Sages had placed across Sumeru to monitor dissent, movements of interest… and now, to locate a very particular being.

He watched the towering, black-clad figure speak with Tighnari from afar. Though they couldn't hear the conversation, they could feel the presence—see the effect. Forest Rangers stood paralyzed or whispered nervously. Even the wildlife had gone eerily silent.

The Eremite next to him shifted, resting a hand near the hilt of his blade. A scar ran across his chin—evidence of experience, and battles past. But even he seemed unsettled.

"Are you sure that's him?" the Eremite whispered, barely loud enough to be heard over the rustle of leaves.

The spy narrowed his gaze, watching as the strange figure walked calmly beside the fox-eared Forest Watcher.

"There's no mistake," he replied. "The stature, the black armor, the mask that hides his face—tales say he's from Mondstadt, but there's nothing Mondstadt about that aura. That… thing is not human."

He adjusted a hidden transmitter in his sleeve—a small device given to high-level Akademiya informants for encrypted communication.

"The reports from Liyue were scattered," he murmured, "but even the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing herself acknowledged his power. The Rite of Descension… the conflict with the Adepti… Osial's destruction… They say this 'Momon' did the impossible. Alone."

The Eremite frowned. "Then why would someone like that travel here?"

The spy gave a knowing smirk. "The same reason the other Honorary Knight did. To meddle. To interfere."

He turned to his partner, eyes gleaming with urgency.

"We must inform the Sages at once," the spy said, voice low but sharp with purpose. "The Honorary Knight Momon has set foot on Sumeru soil."

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"Urgent alert. Priority Omega.

Subject: MOMON, alias the Honorary Knight, has arrived in Sumeru.

Location: Gandharva Ville. Currently speaking with Forest Watcher Tighnari.

Threat level: Cataclysm-class. Immediate strategic review required."

Chapter Text

The gates of Sumeru City loomed like the roots of a divine colossus, each curved arch woven seamlessly into the trunk of the Divine Tree. Above, the city spiraled skyward in tiers—bridges, hanging gardens, glass-paneled domes, and scholarly sanctuaries all interconnected like a living labyrinth. Vines and blooming flowers traced every rail and wall, and the golden glow of Dendro energy shimmered faintly through the canopy.

Momon stood before this majestic entrance, a shadow in broad daylight. His armor glinted with ancient magic, a dark contrast to the natural verdancy of the city. The long, flowing cape, embroidered with unknowable runes and lined with abyssal shimmer, fluttered slightly in the warm breeze. He appeared less a visitor and more a harbinger of some inevitable reckoning. To the bustling citizens making their way up and down the stone paths, he might as well have been the Grim Reaper, casually strolling into the sacred heart of knowledge.

Momon paused before the threshold, lifting his head. His mask gleamed under the sunlight as he studied the city built into the towering tree—branches high above nearly scraping the clouds. The Divine Tree was certainly grander than he had expected.

"I must admit... this is impressive. Organic architecture built around a divine structure. The world tree of Teyvat, or so they say." He mulled over it internally.

Yet this visit was not made out of idle curiosity. Momon needed to establish a teleportation link here before venturing into the desert. That was his standard method—visit, memorize, and be able to return instantly with magic, should his presence be required again.

Just as his armored boot was about to cross the city's border, two figures stepped forward, barring his way.

One was a tan-skinned warrior, clad in the typical layered armor and vibrant red sashes of the Eremites. His muscles were taut with tension, his stance rigid—ready to strike if needed. The other was a middle-aged man, donned in green Akademiya robes, his eyes polite yet cautious behind his monocle. He held a leather-bound tome close to his chest.

"Greetings there, traveler!" said the man in a cheerful, practiced tone. "It appears this is your first time visiting Sumeru City."

Momon tilted his masked face toward them. "That's correct. Is there something I must do before entering?"

"Nothing complicated!" The man chuckled lightly, waving his free hand. "It's just that... well... your presence is not recorded in the Akasha System. I am Panah, Mahamata of the Vahumana Darshan. We simply ensure visitors are properly logged and registered."

"The Akasha System?" Momon asked, intrigued.

Panah produced a small, leaf-shaped device from his satchel. "This is the Akasha Terminal," he explained, offering it to Momon. "A marvelous invention of the late Greater Lord Rukkhadevata. Through this, all citizens and visitors may access curated knowledge directly into their minds—provided they have proper clearance, of course."

He smiled proudly, as though presenting a sacred relic.

Momon examined the device. It looked like an ordinary piece of technology to him. "Fascinating… May I have one?"

"Certainly!" said Panah, handing it to him with care. "Now, to activate it, you must hold it in your hand and speak the phrase: 'May the Mighty God bless us with their voice of wisdom.' The system will attune to you, and you'll have access to everything the Akademiya deems appropriate."

Momon nodded. Holding the Akasha Terminal delicately in his gloved hand, he spoke aloud:

"May the Mighty God bless us with their voice of wisdom."

Silence.

Panah blinked. A few tense seconds passed. Nothing happened.

Momon tilted his head. "It appears… it doesn't work."

The Mahamata's smile faltered. "W-What?" He rushed forward and took the device back, inspecting it frantically. "This is impossible! The terminals are enchanted and calibrated to respond to the neural frequencies of all living beings within Sumeru's borders. This device was developed directly by the Akademiya, built upon the original designs of the Archon herself!"

"Well," said Momon calmly, "perhaps it was the 'developed by the Akademiya' part that broke it. You should've left it as your Archon intended."

Panah stiffened, flustered. "But… but this—this has never—"

"I'll be entering the city now," Momon interrupted, turning toward the gate without another word. "I won't be here long. I don't need that thing anyway."

The Eremite took a step forward instinctively, hand near his blade. But something in Momon's posture, his sheer presence, made him think better of it. He remained still as stone.

Panah and the mercenary watched as the towering figure passed through the gate, his cape trailing behind like a curtain of dusk. The bustling chatter of the city dulled in his presence. Passersby instinctively moved aside, whispering with wide eyes.

"…The Akasha didn't register him. It couldn't even activate in his hands," Panah whispered, holding the inert device like a broken relic. "What kind of being is he?"

The Eremite stared after the dark figure vanishing into the upper levels of the tree-city. "Not one I'd want to cross. That's for damn sure."

What neither of them realized was that the answer was simple: the Akasha Terminal couldn't reach him because there was no mind to reach.

Beneath that armor, beneath that mask—Momon was undead. A skeletal Overlord, a being of supreme magical power whose mind was immune to scrying, corruption, possession, or intrusion. Not even the will of a god could pierce the wall that guarded his unlife.

And that, more than anything, made him invisible to Sumeru's most sacred system.

Akademiya, Sumeru – Office of the Grand Sage

The towering stone corridors of the Akademiya echoed with hurried footsteps as a man in Matra uniform sprinted up the final marble steps, his breath ragged, face pale with urgency. His boots slammed against the polished floors of the administrative wing, startling nearby scholars and causing junior researchers to scatter like leaves in a storm.

With barely a knock, he burst into the Grand Sage's chamber, flinging the double doors open. Inside, the air was thick with incense and the metallic scent of ancient scrolls. Eremite guards flanked the room in silence, standing like statues near towering bookshelves. At the center of it all sat Grand Sage Azar, draped in embroidered emerald robes, seated behind a massive curved desk of obsidian wood.

"Grand Sage! Grand Sage!" the Matra gasped, slamming both palms down on the desk as sweat beaded down his face.

Immediately, the Eremites shifted, hands near the hilts of their blades. The atmosphere turned tense, suffocating. But Azar, calm and proud, merely raised an eyebrow.

He didn't flinch.

"Why are you running like a wild dog, causing disorder in the halls of the Akademiya?" Azar's voice was cold, laced with disdain. "Surely this isn't about a missing book."

"No—Grand Sage, listen!" the Matra's voice cracked with desperation. "He's here. He's in Sumeru City!"

Azar slowly straightened in his seat, his expression tightening just enough to show interest. "You mean... Alhaitham has finally captured the blonde pest? The Honorary Knight from Mondstadt?"

The Matra violently shook his head. "No! Not him… The other one!"

Azar's brows twitched. That name hadn't been spoken in this office for weeks—not aloud. He stood, each movement deliberate and rigid with tension.

"Momon?"

The Matra nodded, his eyes wide. "Yes. He was seen at the city gates, speaking to Panah and an Eremite. The moment he was given the Akasha Terminal… he rejected it. It didn't work on him. Then he walked inside the city."

Azar's fingers curled tightly around the edge of the desk.

"Did he meet with anyone inside? Was he tracked?" he asked, each question more tense than the last.

"No, we kept our eyes on him, but… after a few minutes, he vanished. Vanished without any trace. Our spotters lost him near the inner ring. It's as if he melted into the shadows…"

Azar stared at the Matra in silence for a few long seconds. Then his lips curled into a look of contempt.

"...Useless. Incompetence dressed in uniform," Azar snapped. "You and your men had one job—to watch for threats to the Akademiya. And now, the *greatest threat this world has ever known walks beneath the boughs of the Divine Tree, and you lost him like a child loses a toy!"

The Matra lowered his gaze, trembling as the Eremites stepped forward again, responding instinctively to their master's ire.

Azar turned away, stepping toward the arched window that overlooked the city. He stood silently for a long moment, the glowing lights of Sumeru bathing him in a greenish hue.

"He came earlier than I expected…" Azar murmured, more to himself now. "Still, no matter. Let him walk freely. Let him peer into the heart of our kingdom. It will not save him."

He turned his head slightly, just enough so the Matra could hear him again.

"Soon… very soon… our new god will awaken. One with limitless knowledge, born not of the stars, but of mortal will. And when the time comes, not even that mysterious devil in black armor will be able to resist."

Azar raised his hand. "Send word to the Fatui. Momon has entered Sumeru. The Harbingers will want to know."

"Yes, Grand Sage," the Matra said, bowing hurriedly and fleeing the chamber as fast as he had arrived.

As the doors closed behind him, silence returned to the Grand Sage's study. Azar's face remained passive as he looked toward the horizon—toward the desert where the final pieces of his plan were falling into place.

"Come then, Momon…" he whispered.

"Walk boldly into the light of our wisdom. And let it burn you down to your bones."

The wind howled through the open skies as Momon soared high above the emerald canopy, his dark cloak trailing behind him like a specter's veil. Trees and rivers blurred beneath his flight path, the rainforest's gentle light giving way to golden sands. His silhouette passed unnoticed by most—too fast, too silent, too unnatural.

Within minutes, the forests fell behind him.

Before him stood the Caravan Ribat—a fortified outpost standing like a lone sentinel at the edge of civilization, built where the lush jungles of Sumeru met the scorching reaches of the Great Red Sand. It was a place of transition, tension, and trade. The air carried both the moisture of the forest and the dry heat of the desert winds. Towering walls rose in the distance, the Walls of Samiel, constructed by the legendary Greater Lord Rukkhadevata herself—vast stone bulwarks that shielded the fertile lands of Sumeru from the wrath of sandstorms and the erosion of time.

As Momon landed just outside the settlement, dust swirled beneath his armored boots. The guards at the gates, wrapped in desert silks and holding polearms, instinctively stepped back at the sight of the towering armored figure. They exchanged anxious glances but said nothing—too wary to challenge someone exuding such dreadful weight in his presence.

He entered the town with slow, measured steps, his black armor gleaming faintly beneath the desert sun. Compared to the refined elegance of Sumeru City, Caravan Ribat was built for function: sandstone walls, iron gates, open markets, and a population mixed between Akademiya scholars, merchant caravans, and Eremite mercenaries lingering in shaded corners like wolves waiting for prey.

Momon walked like a ghost among them. Conversations dulled as he passed. A few Akademiya workers peered from balconies, whispering with unease. The paranoid eyes of the ruling institution had followed him from the city into the desert. He could feel it—spies cloaked as traders, informants pretending to sell fruit.

He stopped at a stone corridor that offered shade beneath one of the outer buildings. There, seated against a sun-warmed wall beneath a stretched canopy of tattered cloth, a group of Eremites were laughing and arguing over cards scattered on a worn-out rug. They were playing Genius Invokation TCG, a strange pastime for warriors, but one that had taken root even in the dusty border towns.

Momon's heavy footsteps reached their ears first. The laughter ceased. Heads turned. Hands reached subtly for blades or tucked cards under armor.

"I hope I did not disturb you," Momon said calmly, his deep voice echoing off the walls like thunder in a tomb.

The group stiffened. One of them—a woman with sun-browned skin, short black hair tied with a red sash, and eyes like desert obsidian—rose from her seated position. Her curved blade hung lazily at her hip, but her voice held the heat of the sun.

The woman relaxed only slightly and tilted her head, eyeing him with interest. "Disturb? Not at all, big guy," she said with a wry grin. "Unless you're about to flip the table."

One of the men laughed nervously. "You need us for something? Protection? Information? Or… you looking to have someone's nose broken in a back alley?"

Momon's mask turned slightly to the side. In the distance, near a crate of sealed spice jars and broken barrels, he caught the subtle movement of a man peeking over the boxes. The moment their eyes met, the man ducked with the speed of a rat returning to the sewer.

"Getting your hands dirty, huh…" Momon muttered, half to himself.

Without hesitation, he reached into the folds of his dark cape and withdrew a small sack of Mora. The golden coins clinked softly as they landed in the woman's hands with a heavy thud. She opened the pouch, her eyes widening at the weight and sparkle inside.

Even in the harsh economy of the desert, this was enough to drink, gamble, and waste away for days.

Her grin widened. "Well now… this day just got a lot more interesting."

"Holy shit… That's a lot of drink and dice," one of her comrades whispered.

Momon's tone grew quiet. "There's a man watching us—behind the crates. His gaze has the stench of the Akademiya. I want him."

The other Eremites looked up, suddenly serious. The older one with the sand-battered face and a scar down his temple gave a low chuckle. "He just popped his head up like a fucking weasel. Poor bastard doesn't know who he just spied on."

"We'll handle it, big boss," said the woman, tucking the Mora away and cracking her knuckles. "Missing a few teeth, maybe. Just make sure you wait long enough to hear him beg."

"I'll be waiting outside the gates," Momon said as he turned. "In the desert."

He didn't look back. His footsteps echoed down the alleyway as he exited the Ribat. The wind picked up behind him, blowing sand across the stone street as if the desert itself welcomed him.

The moment he was gone, the Eremites got to work—silent as panthers and twice as deadly.

The desert wind rolled across the dunes like a whisper from ancient kings. Heat shimmered over the golden horizon, and even the sun seemed hesitant to move in the thick stillness of noon. Upon a sun-scorched boulder just outside Caravan Ribat, Momon sat unmoving—an obsidian silhouette against a canvas of endless sand. His cape fluttered gently in the breeze, and the only sound near him was the distant cry of a desert raptor and the shifting of the wind-carved dunes.

Thirty minutes had passed since he'd dispatched the mercenaries. He waited in silence, gazing westward into the endless expanse, where the sands hid ruins, secrets, and perhaps… answers.

Then came the noise.

"Oiiii! We got your rat!"

The unmistakable, sharp-edged voice of the female Eremite rang out, casual as ever.

Momon turned his masked face slightly, his glowing crimson eyes flickering beneath the visor as the group emerged from between the dunes, returning to him like desert wolves with prey in tow.

They were dragging a man—his robes torn, face bruised, lips swollen, and eyes covered with a blood-stained cloth. His hands were tightly bound behind his back with rope that bit into his skin. He stumbled with every step, forced forward by the tip of a scimitar nudging into his spine.

The Eremite woman gave the spy a hearty shove, sending him to his knees in the sand before Momon. She grinned with satisfaction, slapping dust off her hands.

"Got him, boss," she said proudly. "Tied up real nice like a fat pork belly before dinner. Took a little persuading, but he cracked quickly. The stupid bastard pissed himself a little too. Ain't that right, boys?"

One of the other Eremites snorted in amusement while another spat on the ground beside the captive.

With a quick motion, the cloth over the spy's eyes was yanked off.

The man blinked rapidly as light burned into his bruised face—only to freeze as his gaze landed on the looming presence before him. Momon. The shadow-cloaked terror he had been assigned to monitor. Now the mask of death stared him down face to face.

The spy trembled. His lips moved, but the gag still sealed his mouth. Sweat rolled down his forehead. He let out a muffled whimper.

Momon rose from the rock, each movement as smooth and deliberate as a blade being unsheathed. He walked forward slowly, the sand crunching beneath his armored boots. When he stopped a few paces in front of the spy, even the wind seemed to quiet.

"Umu," Momon said with the calmness of a god passing judgment. "One last question."

His masked head turned to the Eremites.

"Which direction leads to Aaru Village?"

She blinked, surprised at the simple request. "Oh? That's all?"

The female Eremite wiped her brow with the back of her hand and nodded toward the west.

"Southwest from here, big boss!" she said. "Stick to the main road. You'll see the sandstone ridges on your right, and the oasis markers will guide you. It's not far—less than a day's walk if you're slow. You, though... I bet you'll be there before the sun even starts setting."

"Good," Momon said, his voice low and final. "You may leave."

She gave a mock salute. "Aight, big boss. You ever want someone stabbed, tracked, or buried in the sand where no scholar will ever find 'em—you know where to find us." She winked and turned.

"Come on, lads," she said over her shoulder. "We're burnin' daylight and I've got Mora burning a hole in my pouch."

As they began walking away, she gave the spy one last parting gift—a sharp slap to the back of his head that made him grunt through the gag.

"See ya, dumbass," she laughed. "Hope the worms enjoy you."

The mercenary crew vanished over the nearby rise, their voices fading into banter and laughter, already planning how to waste their pay.

Now, silence returned.

Momon looked down at the spy, the wind tossing grains of sand across the man's face. His bound body quivered under the weight of that terrible aura—like standing before an ancient death that could not be reasoned with.

Momon remained silent, looming over the trembling spy. The man tried to speak, but the cloth around his mouth muffled him.

With one swift gesture, Momon snapped his fingers, and the bindings around the man's mouth unraveled like ribbons made of smoke.

The spy coughed, gasping, before whispering, "P-please… I was just following orders. They told me to observe, not to interfere…"

"Orders from the Sages?" Momon asked coldly, his voice devoid of empathy.

The spy nodded hastily, the movement jerky. "Y-yes! I swear! They just said to report your location, nothing else. I-I don't know why—maybe they're afraid of you."

Momon knelt slowly, crouching in front of the man like a predator studying a wounded animal. His voice dropped into a deathly whisper.

"They should be."

The wind carried his words like a curse.

"W-what… what are you going to do with me?" the man stammered, voice trembling like a dry leaf in the wind. Despite the gag still hanging from his neck, fear had broken through his paralysis, and his words escaped in pitiful desperation.

Momon didn't answer at first.

Instead, a writhing shadow erupted from behind him like black smoke solidifying into form. The dark tendril split and twisted until it dropped its burden in front of the man with a wet, sickening thump—five heads rolled across the sand, leaving small trails before coming to a rest. The severed faces stared back, eyes glassy and mouths agape in frozen terror.

"HIiiiiii!" the spy shrieked in horror, scrambling back on his knees, eyes bulging as he recognized each face. His colleagues. Men and women who had trained beside him, who shared mission details and late-night drinks in hushed corners of Sumeru City. Now reduced to lifeless trophies.

"You thought you and the other rats would just walk away like this was just another work day?" Momon's voice cut through the dry air, low and thunderous, layered with cold contempt. His armored hand reached behind his back and drew forth his blade—a sword as black as night, humming with quiet malice.

"N-no, please… I-I was just following orders!" the spy sobbed, the smell of fear palpable. "I didn't mean any harm! I didn't even get close to you! I swear, I swear on my life!"

"You did," Momon said flatly, stepping forward. "You got close enough to watch. Close enough to listen. Close enough to think you could understand."

He stopped just a few feet away, casting his long shadow over the man, who had collapsed onto his side, trembling and sobbing into the sand.

"Oh, don't blame me," Momon continued. "Blame your Grand Sages—the wise and powerful rulers of your Akademiya. They sent you. They knew exactly what they were doing when they threw you sheep into the jaws of the butcher."

"No! Please, no!" the spy cried. "I have a family! I—"

Schlik!

A swift, decisive stroke—and it was done.

The spy's head flew clean from his shoulders, spinning once before landing near the others with a muted thud, a thin line of crimson trailing behind. His body collapsed, twitching once before falling still.

Silence followed.

Momon stood unmoving, his sword still humming softly in the heavy air. Then, with the same practiced ease he had drawn it, he sheathed the blade and turned away.

The corpses—six heads in total—lay as grim warnings to any others who might be watching from the walls or the dunes. Let the Akademiya know the price of spying on him.

He left the broken body there, alone in the sand to rot beneath the sun. There would be no burial. No dignity. Only the desert wind, and the long, unblinking stares of the dead.

Without a word, Momon began walking once more—his boots leaving deep, deliberate prints in the sand, heading southwest toward the distant mirage of Aaru Village.

The desert screamed with wind and fury. Thick walls of sand danced violently across the wasteland, turning the once familiar dunes into a howling blur of gold and ochre. Amidst this chaos, just outside the gates of Aaru Village, a lone warrior stood unflinching — her dark bronze skin dusted with grains of sand, her blue hair whipping behind her like a banner of defiance.

Candace, the sworn protector of the village, gritted her teeth behind the protective shimmer of her radiant shield. Her heterochromatic eyes — one the deep brown of the desert earth, the other a striking aqua like an oasis — burned with determination.

"Again?!" she growled, slamming her shield into an approaching Rifthound with a thunderous clang. The creature howled as its skeletal body crumpled into the sand. "How do they keep coming? There must be a nest hidden within the storm!"

The storm offered no reply, only a thunderous gust that roared past her ears. Another growl, low and hungry, cut through the wind. A second Rifthound lunged — Candace didn't hesitate. With a swift motion, she hurled her spear with pinpoint accuracy. The steel shaft whistled through the storm and pierced straight through the monster's gaping maw, pinning it lifeless to the ground.

But there was no time to recover.

The sand shifted, and she turned to find an entire pack emerging from the swirling storm — but not ordinary beasts. These were Thundercraven Rifthounds. Taller. Faster. More cunning. Their bodies crackled faintly with violet lightning, their glowing eyes locked on her like wolves eyeing a cornered prey.

Candace took a firm stance, raising her spear in one hand and shield in the other. Her breath slowed, her muscles tense with preparation.

"So that's how it is," Candace muttered under her breath. "Come on, then. Let's see if the desert is your grave… or mine."

One of the Thundercravens dove at her with supernatural speed. Candace lifted her shield instinctively — but just before contact, the creature exploded mid-air in a ball of searing flames.

BOOM!

The shockwave slammed into her like a battering ram, sending her stumbling backward. Her shield saved her from the worst of it, but the heat and force still left her ears ringing.

"What the—?!" she coughed through the smoke, raising her eyes just in time to see the others pausing, disoriented.

And then she saw him.

A towering figure emerged from the veil of sand — a man draped entirely in black armor, with an imposing cape that fluttered in the storm like the wings of a reaper. His face was obscured by a sinister mask with crimson red lenses that glowed faintly even under the dim stormlight. He moved with calm precision, each step unnaturally smooth, like death incarnate gliding over the dunes.

Candace's instincts flared immediately. She took a defensive step back, angling her shield protectively in front of her. "Stay back!" she shouted toward the stranger, voice firm with command. "It's dangerous here!"

The masked man ignored her warning.

Another Thundercraven Rifthound lunged at him — and in a single motion too swift to follow, his dark blade flashed through the air.

Slice.

The Rifthound collapsed to the sand in clean, motionless pieces before it even realized it had died.

Candace's mouth parted slightly in disbelief.

The other Rifthounds screeched and pounced in fury — only to meet the same fate. One after another, they were cut down with graceful, terrifying efficiency. Each strike of the stranger's blade was decisive. Precise. Effortless.

And then, silence. Only the moan of the wind remained.

Candace stood still, her grip tight around her weapon. Every instinct told her this man was not normal. Not even close. His presence weighed on the air like a divine omen — and yet, he did not raise his sword against her.

Instead, he turned slowly and began walking toward her.

The closer he got, the more her warrior's intuition screamed. He towered over her by nearly a head and a half. His black armor gleamed faintly despite the grime of battle, and his red lenses stared directly into her — not with malice, but with calm, unwavering scrutiny.

He stopped a few feet away, at a respectful distance.

"Greetings, miss," he said, his voice deep, composed, and strangely polite. "I hope I did not interrupt a training session."

The sheer absurdity of that comment, after witnessing his sword cleave abyssal monsters like paper, almost made her laugh — almost.

Candace steadied her voice. "Not at all, respectable traveler. In fact… I thank you for your help. These storms have been relentless lately. And they've brought monsters with them far more dangerous than we're used to. I'm Candace — the guardian and protector of Aaru Village."

She stepped forward now, lowering her shield slightly, though her eyes never lost their edge.

"I haven't seen you around these parts before," she added.

The man gave a slight nod. "I'm called Momon. An adventurer from Mondstadt… though I travel far beyond my homeland." His gaze shifted past her, toward the faint silhouette of the village beyond the storm wall. "I heard of Aaru Village and decided to pass through. I didn't expect to find the Abyss waiting at your gates."

Candace studied him carefully. There was something far more than 'adventurer' in his voice. Something older. Colder.

Still, he had helped. And he had shown no aggression toward her — yet.

"Well then, Momon of Mondstadt," she said, stepping aside. "You've earned the right to rest within our walls. Come, the storm won't let up for hours."

Momon shook his head gently, the golden trim of his obsidian armor catching the faint light of the storm-filtered sun. "I appreciate the offer, but I'll have to decline," he replied, his voice calm yet cold as steel. "I didn't come here to rest. I heard rumors… that a blonde young man clad in foreign garb and a flying companion have passed through here. I'm looking for them."

Candace raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his sudden shift in tone. Her gaze lingered on him for a few moments longer, and then widened slightly in realization.

"Oh my…" she murmured, stepping closer, shielding her eyes from the wind with one hand. "Wait a second. Now that you say that—Momon... your name does sound familiar." She gave a small, knowing smile. "You're looking for Aether and Paimon, aren't you?"

Momon gave a simple nod, though his eyes never left hers. "Yes. I've been tracking them. Last I knew, they were headed toward Sumeru. I assumed if there was trouble, Aether wouldn't sit idly by. When I heard the chaos near Aaru Village and the sandstorms attracting Abyss creatures, it only made sense to investigate here first."

Candace's gaze softened. "You know him well then… Yes, he did mention having another traveling companion. But I had no idea that companion would be someone like you." She looked around as if the winds might carry more spies through the air. "The way you move… the power you carry… it's no wonder the monsters scattered when you showed up."

Momon said nothing to that. He simply waited.

Candace took a breath and then nodded solemnly. "Aether has indeed been here. He and Paimon arrived with a scholar from the Akademiya and a few others. They joined us recently on a very important mission. There's a group of villagers—our Village Keepers—who've gone missing in the Great Red Sand. We believe they were taken by radicals."

Momon's brows furrowed slightly beneath his mask. "Radicals?" he repeated, his voice touched with curiosity and suspicion. "What would desert radicals want with villagers?"

Candace's face turned grim as she motioned for them to step into the shade of a broken stone arch partially buried in sand. The wind howled less fiercely beneath it, allowing them a moment of clearer conversation.

"Our Village Keepers are not just ordinary folk," Candace said, lowering her voice. "Many of them were once sages—scholars of the Akademiya who lost their minds after years of forbidden research. Some say it's divine punishment, others call it mental collapse. But we… we took them in. Protected them. And now, these radicals have started abducting them."

Momon's "expression" darkened. "Are these radicals affiliated with the Abyss?"

"They're Eremites," Candace said, her jaw tightening. "Radicals. Zealots. They bear a deep hatred for the Akademiya and believe that King Deshret—the ancient ruler of the desert—will rise again and reclaim this land for the forgotten civilization. They think the Akademiya are invaders who stole knowledge from the desert's rightful heirs."

"I see," Momon replied softly, his tone unreadable.

Candace nodded solemnly. "If they succeed in awakening what lies buried in the sands… the consequences could be disastrous."

He turned slightly, peering through the murky veil of the storm. "Where is this Great Red Sand you spoke of?"

Candace pointed westward, her gloved hand cutting through the reddish haze. "Once you leave the village and step out into the open desert, keep moving west. You'll know when you see it—the horizon will begin to burn with the outline of the great pyramids. Massive structures of gold and sandstone were built in honor of King Deshret. That's where Aether and the others have gone."

Momon turned his gaze back to her and gave a respectful nod. "Thank you for the information, Miss Candace. I'll head there immediately."

And then, before Candace could say another word, a gust of wind exploded outward from beneath Momon's feet, lifting his cloak as his body rose effortlessly into the air. The sand swirled around his form as if repelled by some invisible force. Within moments, he was airborne, soaring westward like a dark phantom cutting across the golden skies.

Candace blinked in astonishment, instinctively raising a hand to shield her eyes.

"…He flew?" she whispered to herself, utterly baffled. "He didn't even use a glider… what kind of power is that?"

She stood silently at the village's edge for a long moment, the storm finally beginning to die down, leaving behind only her thoughts.

"A strange warrior indeed," she murmured.

Chapter Text

The air over the Great Red Sand was stifling, thick with heat and tension. A desert wind howled across the dunes like a warning from the ancient past, carrying with it the sting of sand and the whisper of old blood. The sun hung overhead like a merciless eye, casting long shadows across the dunes and baking the rust-colored sands until they shimmered like molten gold.

Two groups stood opposed in the vast, open expanse—one dressed in the flowing, rugged garb of desert survivalists, their eyes burning with fanatical purpose. The other, more composed yet visibly tense, bore the regalia of the Sumeru City-State. Behind them, rising like a mirage from the dunes, were the ancient pyramids of King Deshret—hulking, golden monuments to a bygone age, weathered by time but still defiant, still sacred to many.

Aether stood at the forefront of the group from Sumeru, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. Beside him floated Paimon, unusually silent, but looking nervously into the heat. Flanking them were Cyno, expression unreadable behind his jackal helm, Alhaitham with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised in disdain, and Dehya, whose fists were clenched tight at her sides, her body vibrating with fury.

Opposite them stood Rahman, the self-proclaimed voice of King Deshret's return, surrounded by heavily armed desert warriors—his loyalists. They radiated zeal, every eye fixed on their leader as if he were already a prophet. And kneeling beside Rahman, bruised and exhausted, was a single man: Khalil, one of the missing Village Keepers and the one known fondly to a boy named Isak as "Grandpa."

Dehya's voice cut through the scorching air like a whip. "Rahman… what is the meaning of this?!" she demanded, stepping forward, her tawny eyes narrowing as they fixed on Khalil's trembling form. "Where are the rest of the Village Keepers?! You said they would be safe!"

Rahman gave a dry, humorless chuckle, slowly spreading his arms wide as though presenting a gift. "Ah, Dehya, Dehya… still clinging to naïve expectations, I see. You really thought this would be that easy? That I would simply hand over our only leverage like some fool?" He tilted his head, golden-brown braids swaying as he did. "It's a one-for-one exchange. Sounds fair, doesn't it? Or perhaps…" he let the pause hang, "...perhaps you need to be reminded that any kind of negotiation with the Dendro Archon's lapdogs is already a huge compromise for us. You've asked enough."

"You bastard…" Dehya's voice cracked with rage. Her knuckles whitened as her fingers curled into fists. "RAHMAN! When did you decide to become such a piece of shit?!" she barked, the flame tattoo on her arm almost seeming to glow with heat of its own.

Rahman's smile thinned into a smirk, his eyes gleaming. "Still the same sharp tongue. But I'm not offended, Flame-Mane. We desert dwellers have always been seen as 'pieces of shit,' haven't we? All that matters to us now… is the resurrection of our King. The Scarlet King's glory will wash away the filth of the Akademiya. Their arrogance, their false wisdom… it will all burn."

"You're delusional," Cyno stepped forward now, his cape billowing in the wind. His voice was low and cold, like steel being drawn from a sheath. "The Scarlet King is dead. This obsession has turned you into nothing more than a pawn. Can't you see that the Akademiya is manipulating you from both sides?"

Rahman's calm expression broke for the first time, twisting into open hatred. "Shut it, General Mahamatra!" he spat. "I will not be lectured by a puppet of the Sages! You walk among the people, but you speak with the voice of their masters. You think your justice means something out here? It doesn't! We've lived in sand and fire while you sat in your towers."

Alhaitham sighed, his tone dry. "You're all fools clinging to a corpse. The Scarlet King is not coming back—no amount of blood will change that."

"Enough," Rahman barked. "This is your last chance. Either you turn back and let us finish what must be done—or you fight us and take this blood into your hands."

"Then we'll fight," Dehya growled.

Paimon glanced anxiously at Aether. "I don't like this, Aether. Things are going to get really bad, really fast…"

Suddenly, something felt… wrong.

Aether's senses flared—an unsettling sensation blooming along his left arm. He glanced down and saw a strange golden glyph pulsing just above his skin, like a living brand etched in light. His pupils contracted. That mark… it wasn't natural.

Aether's head snapped up.

The same radiant sigil now shimmered faintly on Cyno's shoulder plate, on Alhaitham's hand, and even across Dehya's exposed abdomen. Paimon gasped as the mark began to flicker across her arm like wildfire.

"No…!" Aether's voice was hoarse with realization.

He turned toward them with urgency, eyes wide. "EVERYONE! GET DOWN—!"

But it was already too late.

The air trembled as an eerie whistling sound tore through the silence—then came the scream of hundreds of incoming projectiles. Missiles, laced with propulsion magic and raw destruction, descended like meteors from the heavens, falling from every direction.

The dunes around them erupted into chaos.

Acting on pure instinct, Aether slammed his fist into the scorched sand and roared, "Wake of Earth!" The ground trembled violently as golden Geo Constructs burst upward in a defensive ring, jagged and towering like the fangs of some colossal beast. The barrier enclosed both Aether's group and Rahman's radicals, forming a dome of dense rock.

Missiles slammed into the Geo walls.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

Shockwaves rippled through the sand as explosions lit up the sky. The sun above was swallowed by smoke and fire. Inside the barrier, everyone covered their heads as debris pelted the ground, a thunderstorm of steel and ash battering their protective cage.

Aether winced. His vision blurred for a second—he felt his elemental energy drain faster than he expected. Cracks spiderwebbed across the Geo walls. The rumbling bombardment continued, unrelenting.

"Damn it… not gonna hold," Aether muttered through clenched teeth.

"What—what the hell is going on?!" barked Rahman, eyes wild as he stumbled backward, shielding Khalil with one arm. His radicals crouched low, shouting in panic as the barrier around them groaned under pressure.

Dehya bared her teeth. "As you can see, Rahman, we're all getting our asses shelled! We're under attack by a third party, fuck!" She pounded a fist against the cracked wall, her knuckles bleeding.

"You bastards brought this down on us!" one of the radicals accused Cyno.

Cyno didn't respond. His eyes were narrow, golden irises gleaming beneath the flickering shadows. "No… this isn't the Akademiya. This kind of firepower… no faction in Sumeru has access to this."

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun—the bombardment ceased.

Silence rang louder than the chaos.

Hairline fractures webbed across the Geo constructs before they burst apart like shattered crystal, shards of golden rock falling around them. Smoke rolled across the battlefield, mixing with dust. For a few tense heartbeats, no one moved.

Then… a low, metallic hum began to rise.

The sound came from beyond the dunes, like a swarm awakening. All heads turned.

From behind the nearest ridge, shadows rose—hundreds of them.

Sleek, obsidian shapes emerged, limbs gleaming under the scorching desert sun. Ruin Hunters—their single glowing eyes burning with mechanical purpose—rose like an army from ancient slumber. With them, enormous Ruin Drakes: Skywatch unfurled their wings, engines whirring as they hovered with terrifying grace.

The ground seemed to tilt as wave after wave of Automatons climbed over the dunes, the sand parting beneath their spindly limbs and jet engines. Some were already airborne, casting long shadows that swept across the stunned faces below.

Paimon screamed and zipped behind Aether. "W-What the heck?! Aether! What are they?!"

Alhaitham's expression darkened, his hand resting on his blade. "That's… impossible. We've never recorded this many Ruin Automatons gathering in one place. Let alone working together."

"How are there so many of them?!" Cyno's knuckles whitened as he gripped his spear tightly. "Who has the knowledge to control this kind of ancient weaponry?!"

Dehya's expression was grim. "They didn't come here by chance. Someone's leading them."

Paimon's voice trembled. "C-Could it be the Doctor?! He's the only one crazy enough to pull this off!"

Alhaitham narrowed his eyes. "Unlikely. The Doctor prefers surgical strikes and experiments. This is… something else. This is warfare."

"No time for guesses!" Dehya shouted, raising her greatsword. "We need to survive first!"

The Automatons were nearly upon them, now descending the dunes like a mechanical avalanche. The whirr of gears and jet engines filled the air. Sand kicked up in great plumes beneath their massive limbs. Red lenses locked onto the two groups as priority targets.

Aether stepped forward, eyes fierce. "We fight together, or we all die."

Rahman and his radicals looked uncertain—on the edge of running. But even they could see the overwhelming enemy descending on them like a plague.

Rahman cursed under his breath. "Damn it all… King Deshret, guide us…"

Cyno twirled his spear once, the tip crackling with Electro energy.

"Let them come."

The sharp, mechanical whine of a Ruin Hunter filled the air like a siren of death. One of the monstrous automatons broke formation, its thrusters flaring red as it descended upon Aether with a vengeful shriek. In midair, the Ruin Hunter transformed—its two right arms twisting into brutal lances, crackling with kinetic energy.

Aether turned just in time. His instincts screamed, but he was a moment too slow.

Clang!

Sparks exploded as his blade met the lance in a brutal clash. Aether's boots skidded across the sand, dragged backward by the sheer force of the automaton's momentum. Dust and grit burst around his feet as he struggled to hold the line, his teeth clenched, muscles screaming under pressure.

"Hngh—!"

Then, with a deep breath, he focused.

Green winds swirled around his legs. Anemo surge—now! The compressed wind erupted like a spring-loaded cannon beneath him, launching Aether into the air. The sudden vertical ascent gave him the perfect vantage point. With gravity on his side, he twisted midair and brought his blade down like a divine hammer.

CRUNCH!

His sword pierced through the Ruin Hunter's central eye—the weak point. Sparks exploded, followed by a belch of black smoke. The hunter convulsed violently before collapsing with a mechanical moan, kicking up a cloud of dust. Aether didn't stop to admire the kill. He launched off the broken machine's carcass, sprinting toward his allies.

"Cyno! On your left!"

A barrage of high-velocity bullets whistled through the air as several Ruin Drakes: Skywatch hovered in formation, unleashing a deadly rain of projectiles. Cyno, eyes glowing with electro energy, flashed across the battlefield like a streak of lightning.

"Too slow," he muttered, his voice like static on the wind.

He zigzagged through the bullet storm, every step a blur of afterimages. With a fierce battle cry, Cyno hurled his spear with the strength of a thunderclap. The weapon flew like a divine javelin, embedding itself into the wing joint of one of the flying Drakes.

BOOM!

The ruined machine spiraled out of control, crashing into a nearby Ruin Drake. The two exploded midair in a symphony of flame and screeching metal, the shockwave scattering debris and disrupting several others in flight.

"Dehya!" Aether shouted over the roar of battle, dodging a swipe from a nearby automaton.

"I got you!" Dehya responded, her voice fierce and steady.

She turned just after punching a Ruin Hunter in the chest with her blazing fists, molten sparks bursting from the impact. Without breaking momentum, she reached out, grabbed Aether's arm, and hurled him into the heart of the machine swarm.

"[Electro Sword Infusion]!"

Electric energy arced around Aether's sword like a living serpent. The blade elongated, its edge crackling with a fierce violet hue. Aether twirled midair and began to spin, his body a tempest of lightning and steel.

SWISH—SWISH—SWISH!

He cut through the ranks like a spinning saw, slashing through armor, circuits, and glowing cores. Sparks and explosions lit the desert like a strobe light, while mangled metal bodies collapsed behind him.

Above, the once-blue sky turned a sickly gray. Thick smoke curled from the destroyed Automatons, choking the sun. Severed wings, gears, and sparking limbs rained down from above, clinking and thudding into the sand like shrapnel from a ruined world.

Alhaitham, standing calm amid the chaos, raised his hand. A wave of Dendro energy burst outward as his Elemental Burst activated.

"Now, stay still…" he muttered.

Green light wove a cage around a group of incoming Ruin Machines. The Binding Field erupted in brilliant emerald runes, entrapping several of the enemies. The field hummed and pulsed as vines of energy whipped around them, slicing and tearing into their bodies. Within seconds, the caught machines were neutralized.

Meanwhile, Rahman and his faction stood frozen, slack-jawed.

They had seen war. They had fought in the name of King Deshret, clashing with forest guards and Akademiya loyalists. But this? This was something else. This was a massacre — of machines — by people.

Rahman's eyes tracked Dehya as she leapt into the air and slammed both flaming fists into the chest of a Ruin Drake. The impact sent the automaton hurtling backward in pieces, fire licking across its shredded core.

One of Rahman's men tugged his sleeve in panic. "Boss… these guys… they're insane!"

Another added, trembling, "Should we run? I don't think we're even targets!"

Rahman didn't respond at first. His gaze narrowed at the battle unfolding before him. His men were unharmed. None of the Ruin Machines even looked at them.

"Why aren't they attacking us?" another asked. "Aren't we supposed to be traitors to the Akademiya too?"

Rahman clenched his jaw. "No… this isn't about us. These things — they were sent for them."

He turned his eyes to Aether, who stood at the center of a circle of burning wreckage, sword humming with electro energy.

"Someone wants these warriors dead. Someone who commands an army of death machines."

And as another wave of Automatons emerged from beyond the dunes, their soulless red eyes glowing like the embers of a coming apocalypse, Rahman couldn't help but feel small… very small.

Far beyond the raging battle, nestled amidst the still skies above the desert, an inconspicuous Automaton floated in silence. It was small and unarmed—unlike the monstrous machines wreaking havoc below—but far more dangerous in its purpose. A single, glassy eye pulsed with pale light, its lens slowly shifting focus as it hovered on invisible currents of wind. It rotated, panned, and zoomed, feeding a high-resolution, real-time feed through a long-distance relay network of Fatui communication nodes.

Thousands of miles away, in the frozen north of Snezhnaya, the live footage flickered onto a large mechanical screen inside a dimly lit control chamber. Arcane circuits pulsed in the walls, powering the facility with a blend of Cryo energy and futuristic engineering. Pipes hissed softly in the background. Steam curled from vents. And there, seated atop a curved velvet-backed throne of silver and bone, Sandrone, the Seventh of the Fatui Harbingers, leaned forward with a delighted grin playing on her crimson lips.

Her porcelain-white fingers, covered in intricate lace gloves, lightly drummed against the armrest as she stared into the screen, her expression like that of a child admiring a wind-up dollhouse come to life.

"Well now…" she murmured with a voice as smooth as silk and cold as polished metal, "the desert winds carry with them quite the spectacle today."

She shifted slightly, crossing her legs, the layers of her elegant Victorian-style dress rustling faintly with the motion. Her eyes glinted with a peculiar curiosity as she watched Aether soaring through smoke and machine fire, his sword coated in crackling lightning.

"Aether the Descender… every bit as tenacious as the legends suggest," Sandrone whispered, resting her chin upon her delicate hand. "Effortlessly dismantling my darlings... yet still surrounded. Still human."

She tilted her head, amused, as Cyno blitzed through the chaos, vanishing and reappearing like an electric ghost, while Dehya punched through iron plating with nothing but flaming fists. One of her mechanical aides—a rotund, hovering companion with twin eyes and stubby arms—floated beside her throne, letting out a soft series of chirps.

Sandrone gave a soft, amused sigh.

"They fight well together. Perhaps too well," she mused, her tone laced with a note of mockery. "But let's see how long they can dance when the music never stops."

Her fingers twitched, and a glowing control panel rose from the floor before her. She delicately tapped it with one long nail, sending an encrypted signal through the network.

"Let the next wave of my toys march," she said with a wicked smile. "Release the big one. Don't hold back this time."

The Automaton beside her beeped in acknowledgement, and a new batch of activation sequences pulsed through the relay. Back in the desert, deeper underground, red eyes began to awaken beneath layers of sand and stone.

"Fight, little heroes," Sandrone whispered, her voice filled with chilling delight. "Fight until your bones grind, and your breath fails. Because this game… has only just begun."

She leaned back on her throne, the light of the screen dancing across her pale face.

"Let's see how far you can go without "him", Descender," she said with a slow, wicked smile curling across her lips. "Let's see what you're truly made of."

Aether sprinted across the chaos-ridden battlefield, his eyes narrowed and focused, sweat trailing down the side of his face. The roar of mechanical engines echoed behind him, punctuated by the shrill hiss of missiles being launched. One by one, a salvo of high-velocity projectiles hurtled through the smoke-choked air, trailing fiery contrails as they locked onto his movement.

"Not today!" Aether grunted, ducking low and swerving with an agile roll. A missile detonated behind him in a deafening burst of sand and fire, the shockwave nearly lifting him off his feet. But he didn't slow down.

In one fluid motion, he clenched his fist and thrust it downward. Golden light surged from his palm as a Geo Construct materialized beneath him — a dense, jagged meteorite-like pillar erupting from the ground. Aether grabbed its base, spun once with raw momentum, and hurled it like a massive spear toward the advancing Ruin Hunter.

The burning stone construct flew with terrifying force, its jagged edges glowing from the friction. It slammed directly into the Automaton's eye, shattering the reinforced lens and sending sparks and smoke spewing in all directions. The Ruin Hunter let out a distorted screech, losing altitude in a staggered wobble as it tried to stabilize midair.

Aether didn't wait. He leapt — launching himself upward off a gust of Anemo power — and landed squarely on top of the smoldering Geo Construct embedded in the machine's eye.

With a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a brief moment and shifted his inner flow. The Geo glow around him shimmered and instantly pulsed into vibrant purple lightning.

"Let's see you keep flying after this," Aether muttered, drawing his blade back. "Electro Style — Lightning Shadows!"

In a flash, three crackling thunder shadows burst forth from his blade. Each of the spectral forms zoomed in different directions, streaks of blinding violet carving through the smoky battlefield.

Each thunder shadow found its mark with pinpoint precision — three different Ruin Machines. The first shadow slammed into a Ruin Hunter, piercing its core and overloading its systems. The second ripped through a Ruin Drake's wing, causing it to spiral out of control and crash into the sands. The third thunder shadow pierced the chassis of another charging Ruin Drake, frying its inner circuits and causing it to topple forward with a violent crash.

The battlefield flashed with brief, radiant light as each machine froze, seized up, and then collapsed, paralyzed by the sheer voltage and precision of Aether's attack.

He dropped to the ground, landing with a soft thud in the sand just as fragments of metal and machine parts began raining down around him.

Paimon, hovering nearby, yelled, "Whoa! That was awesome, Aether! You just fried three of them in one go!"

Aether exhaled, steadying himself as the dust swirled around him. "They're not stopping… at any time," he muttered, watching the ruined husks twitch in the sand. "We need to keep moving. There's more coming."

Off in the haze, the sound of grinding gears and metallic shrieks announced the next wave — and Aether's eyes narrowed with grim determination.

Dehya's fists blazed like miniature suns as she slammed them into the hovering frame of a Ruin Drake that had dared to drift too low. Her flaming knuckles melted through its reinforced plating, and with a roar, she punched straight through its midsection. The machine convulsed and dropped into the sand in a twisted heap of smoking wreckage.

She landed in a crouch, her boots sinking into the hot sand. Her breathing was heavy, but her eyes still burned with defiance.

"This is not looking good!" she shouted over the cacophony. "The more we smash, the more they show up! This isn't a fight—it's a meat grinder! We need to bail before—"

A flash of violet light cut her words short as Cyno lunged past, his spear slicing through the hovering chassis of another Skywatch Drake. The machine's frame shuddered violently before plummeting, sand erupting in a spray around it.

"That's not happening," Cyno said flatly, his voice calm despite the chaos. He flicked sand from his spear tip. "If we try to run, they'll hunt us from the air. We'll be nothing more than targets in an open field—like hornets swarming prey."

"Tch—then what?" Dehya barked, her tail of crimson hair whipping in the wind as she turned to smash another incoming drone with a flaming uppercut. "We hole up somewhere? Some ruin, some cave—anywhere with cover? Because I'm telling you right now, we're not winning against an endless swarm like this!"

Her words were punctuated by the sharp whistle of something slicing the air. A silver-green blade cut past her cheek close enough to leave a warm breeze on her skin. The weapon buried itself deep into the eye socket of a Ruin Drake looming just behind her. The machine let out a piercing screech before its systems failed, and a blur of motion landed atop it.

Alhaitham stood on the machine's back, yanking his blade free from the sparking ruin of its eye. His teal gaze swept over the desert horizon, calm yet calculating. "Cyno is right," he said, stepping down from the wreckage with surgical precision. "This isn't a battle—it's attrition, and we're on the losing end. If we keep this pace, we'll be buried in the sand before the sun sets."

The four fighters instinctively closed ranks, their boots forming a tight circle in the churned-up sand. Their breathing synchronized in the tense silence between each wave of attacks. Aether's sword hummed faintly with lingering Electro energy, while Cyno's spear pulsed with faint arcs of violet. Dehya's fists still burned faintly with Ember Mane heat, and Alhaitham's sword gleamed in the sunlight.

Paimon hovered nervously in the middle of their formation, clutching her tiny fists to her chest. Her wide eyes darted from one smoking pile of scrap to the next, then toward the advancing tide of Automatons rolling in like an iron wave.

"This… this is insane! There's no way this is random—they know where we are!" she squeaked.

Dehya spat into the sand, her lip curling in irritation. "Oh, it's clear enough, little one. Whoever's behind this? They're not here for intimidation. They want us dead—six feet under, sand in our mouths, the whole deal."

Aether's expression hardened, his stance lowering slightly in preparation for the next push. "Then they'll be disappointed," he said, his voice carrying a quiet steel. "Because they're not taking us down that easily."

The desert air was still for only a heartbeat.

Then, it began—first as a faint tremor beneath their feet.

The sand hissed and shifted with every subtle vibration, the grains tumbling against one another like whispering voices. The ground seemed to breathe, rising and falling in slow, ominous waves.

Cyno's sharp golden eyes narrowed. His grip on his spear tightened, scanning the empty dunes around them.

"Earthquake?" Paimon blurted, darting into the air, her little wings fluttering anxiously.

"No…" Cyno's voice was low, steady, but there was an edge to it. He knew this was no natural phenomenon.

The vibrations deepened—slow, rhythmic, too deliberate to be the chaotic shake of the earth.

And then they saw it.

Behind the tallest dune, something impossibly massive began to rise, casting an ever-growing shadow that stretched across the golden sands. First came the jagged, rusted crown of ancient machinery, its surface encrusted with centuries of sand and corrosion. Then the monstrous torso, plated in weathered metal and adorned with strange glyphs that pulsed faintly with forgotten power.

With each ponderous step it took, the ground quaked so violently that loose stones rolled down from nearby rock formations.

"Is that a…" Cyno's voice trailed off, his usual calm demeanor flickering with disbelief.

Dehya's eyes widened as the titanic machine's full frame emerged from behind the dunes, its colossal arms dragging twin slabs of metal that could crush entire caravans with one swing. "There's no way," she muttered, almost to herself. "I thought those things were just myths told to scare kids away from wandering too deep into the desert."

Alhaitham's gaze was analytical, but even his voice betrayed the smallest hint of astonishment. "A Ruin Golem," he said plainly. "An ancient war machine from a civilization long gone. The texts said they were dismantled and buried over five centuries ago after the cataclysm."

"Oh my goddess…" Paimon's voice quivered, her wide eyes following the slow, terrifying ascent of the creature. "That thing is HUGE!"

It towered so high above them that even the horizon seemed to bend around it. Compared to the surrounding dunes, it was like a moving mountain of bronze and steel, its joints grinding with deep, echoing roars of machinery that hadn't moved in centuries.

"Almost the size of the Pyramid of King Deshret," Alhaitham remarked, his eyes narrowing as he studied the faint glow pulsing from the core embedded in the center of its chest. "And there are supposed to be only three left in Sumeru… all of them inactive."

"Not anymore," Cyno said darkly. His voice carried a weight that made the air around them feel heavier.

The Ruin Golem's head, shaped like a massive helmet with a single glowing eye, turned slowly… scanning the desert.

And then, with a metallic groan that rolled like thunder over the sands, its gaze fixed on them.

The Ruin Golem's singular eye blazed brighter and brighter, until it rivaled the desert sun. The air grew hot, shimmering as if the light itself were burning reality. Then — with a sound like the sky being torn apart — a colossal beam of energy erupted forth.

It was not just a weapon. It was a force of extinction. The ground vibrated violently, dunes collapsing into themselves as the sheer pressure of the attack swept outward. The sound wasn't a single note but a layered roar — mechanical hum, air displacement, and the low, gut-twisting thunder of raw annihilation.

For a single heartbeat, the group froze. There was nowhere to go. The blast moved faster than thought.

Aether's mind went blank. No… not like this. If I die here… Nahida remains in chains. My sister…

Cyno's stance tightened instinctively, but even he knew there was no dodging this. Dehya clenched her fists, defiant even in the face of obliteration. Alhaitham's sharp mind calculated and found no solution. And Paimon… Paimon's little hands clung desperately to Aether's shoulder, her eyes wide with terror.

Aether pulled her close, shielding her with his body. If nothing else… let her be spared.

The beam struck.

BOOOOOM.

The desert exploded in light. For a split second, the entire world turned white, as if the sun had fallen from the heavens. The shockwave howled outward, sand vaporizing into glass beneath the blast. The earth itself convulsed, and the sky darkened under a towering mushroom cloud, its boiling column of dust and fire clawing upward until it pierced the very clouds.

Miles away, even Rahman's bandits stopped in sheer horror.

Inside the Ruin Golem, Fatui agents steadied themselves against the impact. The large screen before them displayed the carnage — a crater so deep and wide it looked as though a piece of the world had been scooped out.

"Target destroyed!" one of the uniformed operators reported, his voice clipped and efficient.

The tall commander, a man with long, raven-black hair tied back with a silver clasp, allowed himself a slow smirk.