Leon slowly pulled a black mask from his pocket, his fingers tracing its smooth surface for a moment before calmly placing it over his face.
Even now, he was still officially "within the Kingdom of Knights." This was not the time to reveal his identity. Not yet.
With a simple wave of his hand, he tore a rift in the fabric of space, as if he were merely pulling open a curtain.
"Let's go," he said with a slight smile, turning to the two girls at his side.
They stepped through the dimensional rift and emerged atop the Stormbearer Mountains, north of Mondstadt—a remote, silent region veiled in a faint mist that shimmered under the moonlight. The wind was cold but lively, carrying the scent of ancient trees and the rain that had fallen days prior.
With the same nonchalance one might display when setting up a picnic, Leon placed two beach chairs on the mountain's peak. He then activated magical devices that regulated the ambient temperature—no breeze would bother them there—and finally set up a long-range telescope, with enchanted lenses capable of observing every detail of the city even from miles away.
He leaned back in the chair, stretched out his legs, and relaxed as if lounging by the sea.
"Ah~ Dvalin seems to be having quite a bit of fun today," he murmured with a serene expression. A bucket of popcorn appeared beside him by magic, and he grabbed a handful without taking his eyes off the scene before him.
The city of freedom, so vibrant and full of joy just days earlier, was now consumed by darkness. Black clouds like spilled oil twisted above the sky, churning like a furious vortex. Demonic winds howled through towers and walls. Every now and then, an unfortunate citizen was torn from the ground and flung into the air, swallowed by sudden tornadoes.
But the chaos wasn't Leon's focus.
No.
He was watching something far more specific.
Through the telescope, his eyes settled on the nobles—the very same who, days earlier, walked with their noses held high, indifferent to the people's suffering. Now, they were running, screaming, stumbling over their own arrogance.
"Yes," he said softly, almost poetically. "Before creation, there must be destruction. Let the corrupted foundations shatter, let the golden vermin be crushed, so that something new may rise from the ashes."
---
Hours Earlier
Mondstadt City, before the storm.
Even under the night's veil, the aristocrats' mansions shone brilliantly with magical lanterns and enchanted crystals.
The reason? A banquet.
Another one.
Inside the main hall of the Lawrence family's central mansion, the air reeked of luxury. Silk drapes hung from the pillars. Exotic dishes floated on trays, red wine flowed into crystal goblets, and the soft melody of harps echoed among fake laughter.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" shouted one of the family elders, raising his glass. "Let us celebrate the fall of House Gunnhild! The last heiress is now under our control!"
"Cheers!"
"To victory!"
"To House Lawrence!"
The hall replied in chorus, raising their glasses in a rehearsed toast.
It was the third banquet in a row. But everyone knew this wasn't a celebration—it was a display of power, of indulgence.
A carnival of rotting masks.
"Soon, all of Mondstadt will be under our command," said a young man with golden hair, stroking the thigh of the woman beside him.
"The Patriarch has already sold the city's defense plans to neighboring kingdoms," another murmured, laughing filthily. "In return, we'll receive 30% of the spoils. Not bad, right?"
"The king won't find out?"
"Of course not. We're the only ones with access to those documents. And even if he does, so what? He can't touch us."
Their conversations were vulgar, but spoken with artificial refinement—dressed in elegant gestures and embroidered clothing.
"And the girl from the Gunnhild family?"
"She'll be sent as a gift. A symbolic offering to our allies."
"What a shame... so young, so beautiful. I would've had some fun before the delivery."
"If her sister hadn't escaped, we could've had both…"
Cynical laughter and filthy whispers filled the hall.
These people weren't nobles.
They were predators.
Wearing human skin.
Yelan, who had once infiltrated that place in disguise, had heard such conversations in silence.
Only sheer willpower stopped her from pulling a dagger and slitting every throat right then and there.
Outside, Mondstadt was a field of slavery in disguise.
Ordinary people lived with less than the minimum. They worked under the whip, and of every fifty gold they earned, forty-nine returned to Lawrence coffers—under the name of "taxes."
They were parasites.
But that night, something changed.
---
"ROOOOOAAAAAARRR!!!"
A deafening roar shook the city.
Glasses fell.
The music stopped.
The ground seemed to tremble beneath the nobles' feet.
"W-What was that!?"
"A monster!?"
"Someone, look outside!!"
With trembling hands, the guests pulled back the curtains and looked through the windows.
And what they saw froze them in fear.
The once-starry sky was now consumed by swirling black clouds, as if a living storm was forming over the city. The moon had vanished, swallowed by the darkness.
Then, a current of icy wind pierced the walls, snuffing out the candles.
And soon… the tornadoes came.
Black, magical whirlwinds tore through the air like massive scythes, lifting soldiers from the walls, uprooting entire trees and rooftops, shredding everything in their path.
"LOOK! IN THE SKY!!"
More screams.
And then, they all saw it.
A colossal silhouette loomed within the clouds, lit by flashes of green lightning.
Six black wings—like those of a demonic raven—spread wide. Dark red lines coursed across the monster's body, like pulsating veins of malevolent energy. Its skull was hidden beneath a bony mask, and around its neck hung a necklace of human skulls—primitive, terrifying.
"It's… it's… a DRAGON!!"
"W-Wind Dragon?! N-No!! That's… that's some other kind of beast!!"
A new roar rattled the walls.
And then… not fire.
Not flames.
Wind.
But not ordinary wind.
The dragon's breath.
Dvalin opened his jaws and unleashed a concentrated storm—targeted with surgical precision.
The city's most luxurious mansions were obliterated instantly.
Towers collapsed, golden-sculpted gardens were wiped from the map. An entire hall was torn from the ground like paper.
Within the ruins, the nobles screamed like cornered rats.
"M-Mercy! Protect me!!"
"Isn't that Prince Leon's dragon!? H-He had a dragon, didn't he!?"
"You fool! The prince is in Midgar! And that dragon... that one is black as night, evil—unlike anything we've ever seen!"
They tried to flee, to hide, to beg for help. But there was nowhere to run.
The storm had come.
And with it, the end of the age of false nobles.
---
(End of Chapter)
"Hmph. If you really want to be useful, then entertain me, try to throw those pathetic power stones at me. Let's see if even your insolence can amuse a king."