"Sigh, the Wind Dragon's attacks have really been getting out of hand lately."
"Tell me about it. Every time it shows up, the whole city's thrown into chaos. Shops are wrecked, homes are smashed, and we have to handle all the cleanup afterward."
"At this rate, the Knights of Favonius will need to start another round of recruitment. But we hardly have any qualified candidates these days."
"Yeah. Still don't get why that genius swordsman Kairo hasn't joined us Knights yet."
"Eh? Speak of the devil—here he comes."
City of Mondstadt, at the Gates.
Three fully armed Knights of Favonius leaned lazily against the stone archway, chatting idly to pass the time.
Midway through their talk, one of them spotted a refined-looking youth approaching from afar.
The young man had a face like sculpted jade—delicate features, a demeanor that didn't quite fit the easygoing style of Mondstadt's people.
"Kairo, heading out on another job?"
One of the gate guards smiled as he called out. "What kind of task is it this time? Hard one?"
"Just a collection request," Kairo answered with a gentle smile. "Should be easy enough."
"Well, come back soon then. There've been more Hilichurls gathering near the gate again. Be careful out there."
"And watch for Fatui," another added quickly. "They've been acting up all over the place. Those bastards are getting bolder by the day."
"Mm."
Kairo nodded lightly, passed through the gate, and crossed the bridge beyond.
"Kid's only sixteen, right?"
"Yeah. Got the looks, got the skill—but no Vision."
"I heard the Lawrence clan even tried to rope him in as a son-in-law, but he turned them down."
"Typical nobles—they just want to hoard talent. With sword skills like his, he could live comfortably on his own, probably better than either of us."
"True that. Still single, too. I hear he's saved up quite a bit, doesn't smoke or drink. A real prodigy, huh?"
"Shame he never joined the Knights. If he had, he'd probably be our captain by now."
Even as Kairo's figure faded into the distance, bits of their admiration still reached his ears, drawing a faint sigh from his lips.
A genius swordsman?
It was nothing more than the fruit of relentless, year-after-year discipline.
Swordsmanship was all he truly had to his name.
As a transmigrator with memories from a past life, he had awakened his intelligence early—but in this world, with nothing but his wits, swordplay was the only thing he could train in secret.
He knew it well: only by forging the image of a "genius" could he carve out a future for himself.
Yet even then, before the entrenched nobles of Mondstadt, he was nothing.
When he first arrived in Teyvat, he thought he could take advantage of his foreknowledge—ride the waves of fate and make something of himself.
But being an orphan meant starting from rock bottom.
For sixteen years, he had lived cautiously, taking small jobs through the Adventurers' Guild just to stay alive.
He had even considered going into business, but Mondstadt's old nobility—though nominally suppressed by the Knights of Favonius—remained a mountain too high to climb.
Anything that showed promise would be seized by greedy hands. And not by gentle means.
So all he could do was survive, polishing his reputation as a sword prodigy, until he was old enough to join the Knights officially.
His plan was simple: earn a squad leader's position, build connections, and only then start his real ventures.
But the Knights weren't exactly free. Once you joined, getting out wasn't easy.
Patrol duty, monster hunts, city watch rotations, assisting civilians—the work never stopped.
The Adventurers' Guild was far more flexible.
And most importantly, Knights rarely interacted with Vision holders.
Those chosen by the gods were few and elusive. Even when he glimpsed one, they barely noticed a nameless child like him.
So, he waited.
"This world without a Vision is just too damn dangerous… Even a seasoned adventurer can die from a stray arrow from a Hilichurl."
Thinking of that, Kairo's head throbbed.
What good was his swordsmanship? Against magic and arrows, he was helpless.
He'd seen too many adventurers die—burned, frozen, crushed—because they lacked divine power.
He had once thought of traveling to Liyue, the prosperous city of contracts. But the road there was perilous beyond words—wolves, bandits, monsters.
Even merchant caravans risked ruin along the way, and joining one cost more Mora than he could ever afford.
So he stayed, scraping by on low-tier gathering commissions, watching his every step in the wilds.
He was tired. I'm so tired.
Without a Vision, one could, at best, live as a low-ranking Knight, or worse, die as a nameless adventurer.
Many became adventurers not from love of adventure, but from the simple need to eat.
Maybe, just maybe, they'd strike it rich one day—find treasure, buy a home, escape the grind.
Knighthood had its perks—free treatment at the Cathedral of Favonius, for one—but not much else.
And the pay? Not even enough to buy a house.
"All this, just to live a life I can already see the end of…"
Kairo sighed deeply.
Knowing the story's future yet lacking the power to change it—that was agony.
He envied those blessed with Visions. Their bodies strengthened by elemental energy, their blows ten times stronger than any mortal's.
"Don't tell me I'm supposed to join the Fatui next…"
Just the thought made his eyelid twitch.
Sure, the Fatui recruited—but only cannon fodder.
They handed out Delusions and other cursed trinkets, chewing up the weak and spitting them out.
He knew plenty who'd joined and vanished without a trace.
Lost in thought, Kairo made his cautious way down the familiar dirt path toward Whispering Woods.
Then—
"Awooo!"
A wolf's howl split the still air.
Kairo froze, eyes narrowing.
From the corner of his vision, he spotted them: five, maybe six wolves, and several Hilichurls lurking nearby.
"Wolves… in broad daylight? And with Hilichurls? Damn it, guess I'll have to give up the commission."
The job—collecting Small Lamp Grass—had taken him days to claim from the Guild. He clenched his jaw.
Any ordinary man, facing wolves, would flee without hesitation. Even for a swordsman like him, getting surrounded meant certain death—unless he had a Vision.
Or full armor. Or years of hunting experience.
And those Hilichurls only made things worse.
If only… if only he had a Vision. Then he could cut his own path, stand atop the world.
Just as that bitter thought crossed his mind—
Whoosh!
A pale blue light flickered before his eyes. A holographic screen materialized in midair.
[Amber Era 2158, thirty years before the Calendar Era. You were born on Jarilo-VI. Picked up by the Silvermane Guards, you overheard their conversations and realized—you had transmigrated to Belobog. As a newborn, you could only feel the world's freezing cold closing in. Even the Silvermane Guards barely survived in this blizzard… and to you, it felt as though the sky itself had collapsed.]
(to be continued)