"Time to go up, little sister—"
Whoosh—
Childe's words barely left his lips before he knocked and loosed a rapid volley of water-element arrows toward Mebius.
He knew full well those arrows weren't meant to fell this mysterious "little sister." They were probes—tests to learn range, reaction, capability.
"I see it now— that gem at your waist must be the source of your power, right? How… interesting~"
Mebius peered at the Vision hanging from his hip with genuine curiosity. In some lines of her memory—snatches and fragments—she'd seen portrayals of Visions as mere "consumable components," the Doctor's mocking words coming to mind. To her, a Vision was just another shiny "gem."
Childe's jaw tightened. Her calling a Vision a "gem" confirmed something odd: this girl wasn't familiar with how Visions functioned. If she didn't rely on a Vision, then what was the origin of her power?
Before he could unpack that thought, the ground not far off erupted: a huge, translucent, dark-green claw thrust up through the earth, surrounded by a spreading slick of the same viscous green ooze that had appeared under his feet earlier. The claw intercepted the water-arrows mid-flight—snapped them up—and sank back as the ooze vanished.
So that was her trick: conjunctions from that green fluid. Strange, unsettling—unlike anything he'd seen.
If he'd been grabbed by that ooze earlier… Childe's face grew more serious. This girl was not to be underestimated. All the same—his blood ran quickly at the thought of facing such a curious opponent. A unique foe spelled a unique, thrilling fight. He welcomed it.
"Big brother, were you scared by me?" Mebius tilted her head in mock innocence when he fell quiet. "I'm not so frightening, am I?"
"Not scared—just curious," Childe said. Curiosity was itself the prelude to action. "Enough talk. I'll take this seriously. I hope you will too."
He formed a half-dome of water around himself, which split apart with a loud crack—and from within, he revealed a new form. Darker clothing replaced his previous attire, a flowing cloak shimmered with a starry pattern, and a mask concealed his face. The power that came with his transformed guise hummed in the air: the freed power of his released Fate.
Mebius, lounging atop her floating toolbox, merely raised an eyebrow. "Just a costume swap? How tiresome."
Childe drew twin blades of condensed lightning at blinding speed and charged. The change in his aura was noticeable—stronger than before. Mebius cocked a brow. He'd stepped it up; so would she.
But as he closed in, the ground erupted again—not a claw this time, but a curved, stinger-like appendage, scorpion-tail shaped, sweeping outward. It struck him full-force and hurled him into shattered masonry.
She had variety in her summons. Clever, unpredictable.
If he could close the distance, the ooze would be problematic for her to employ without risk—her own conjurings might strike back. He suspected her physical body might be fragile; she'd conjure through the ooze while staying at a distance. Mobility would be his advantage.
Childe recombined his blades into a single spear crackling with purple electricity and began darting around her at high speed. His objective: deny her the chance to root a summoning point and, when an opening appeared, to get in close.
Mebius sat unmoved, watching him dart. Her expression was calm—bored, almost. The trick worked: the green attacks did not manifest. Childe let patience guide him; he would wait for a momentary lapse and strike.
Finally—Mebius's expression softened for the slightest fraction of a second. Childe seized it. The spear flared as he lunged, lightning sizzling along its length.
He expected the spear to bury through her conjured defenses, to force her into panic. Instead, when he reached her, everything froze.
Purple lightning danced across the air—everywhere—but when his spear met her hand, the weapon could not advance an inch. Childe felt his full strike jam to a halt. Through the mask, his eyes flashed with shock. He had miscalculated.
Mebius hadn't panicked. She hadn't fled. She had simply reached out. His full-force assault stalled in the grip of her strange power, and the lightning crackled uselessly against whatever held the spear.
"Ah—so you tried to come close," Mebius murmured, leaning forward so close he could feel the breath that shouldn't have belonged to a child. Her voice was all teasing warmth. "Were you frightened by me earlier, big brother?"
Childe's mind reeled. He'd believed the small body meant frailty; he'd taken the bait. Now, in the closeness of her calm, he tasted how wrong he'd been. Her smallness was deceptive—she was a predator in a child's guise.
And to make matters worse—he'd just been bested by another woman. Again. The tally in his head was unhelpful to his pride: three women and one "small girl." Utterly humiliating.
Just then, footsteps—firm and numerous—reached the ruined field. A familiar voice cut through the air.
"That voice—" Mebius smiled, unbothered. She recognized the cadence of Kaeya's approach; behind him, a host of knights followed. Probably Diluc too, given the company. Perfect—more "big brothers" had come.
Kaeya's breath hit the ruined air with stunned surprise; he'd found what they'd been seeking here. The search had finally borne fruit.
As knights crowded in, murmurs ran through them—soft admiration, startled whispers. Mebius's form (and voice) charmed their eyes and ears. A number of them gaped openly.
"Quiet!" Kaeya barked to bring order. "She's an enemy—prepare yourselves!"
Some knights' delight shifted to doubt. "She's just a little girl—can that be? She's so pretty, though—"
"Shut! Up!" Kaeya's command was sharp. This battlefield wasn't a place for gawking; the woman—no, the child—was their enemy.
Mebius raised both tiny palms in a show of playfulness. "Oh my, so many big brothers again. Hello~"
Her mock-cute voice made a few helmets tilt in confused affection; others bristled.
Diluc lumbered forward and pointed his greatsword steadily at her. He understood fully that the girl before them could be the one who had taken Klee's—or rather, Klee wasn't here, but the style—whoever had taken the knight's missing charge: this child had the hands capable of that abduction.
The knights braced.
Childe, who'd been trying to slip away, found himself watched. If he was connected to this child, the knights would assume collusion. He needed an exit plan. No way he could walk free without clarification.
Mebius grinned, enjoying the scene. "Big brother, don't go. I can see you still have power left. Why not join them? Let's see if together you can beat me. How about it?"
Childe swallowed his pride but stepped forward toward Kaeya's group. If there was a path to leave unscathed, it would involve playing the part—however briefly. He moved toward the knights, and as he approached, something in him resolved: he would use this opportunity. Whatever game this Mebius played, he'd find his angle.
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