The night was heavy, and within the storm wall, the city of Mondstadt felt even more oppressive.
The Knightly Order's armory district, however, was unusually lit. A dozen soldiers were silently moving heavy wooden chests out of the warehouse, transporting them to a clearing shrouded in the shadows of tall buildings not far away. The chests hit the ground with dull thuds.
A squad leader, looking at the piled-up chests with an irritated expression, yelled at a subordinate preparing to enter the warehouse for an inventory check:
"Hurry it up! Those rebels are even using bombs now, who knows what they'll try next! You few, go inside and search carefully. See if anything is missing, or if they've hidden anything in advance!"
"Yes, sir!" a few soldiers responded, walking into the depths of the warehouse with torches held high.
In the distance, the window of a derelict attic overlooking the clearing was slightly ajar.
The armory's supervising official, a decently dressed and cautious-looking middle-aged man, was speaking in a low voice to Gunnhildr beside him:
"...Gunnhildr, it's not that I won't help you. The King has been investigating the resistance forces and that so-called 'foreign god' very strictly lately! The most I can do is help you move the weapons to the location you requested. How you get them out of here after that is your own business."
He paused, a look of difficulty and fear on his face: "I... I have a family to look after, too. If the higher-ups investigate and find out it was me..."
Gunnhildr's gaze remained fixed on the distant clearing and the piled weapons, her voice calm and steady: "You can say the 'resistance army' stole them."
The official froze for a moment, his mouth agape, but said nothing more.
...
In the clearing, the wooden chests were piled up like a small mountain. A group of soldiers, holding long spears, formed a tight circle around the pile of weapons. They watched the surrounding darkness vigilantly, their formation so dense it left almost no openings.
Suddenly, two swift, cyan orbs of light, like meteors falling in the night sky, accurately smashed into the open ground beside the weapon pile from high above.
That patch of ground had been deliberately covered with a thick layer of dry, loose earth.
"Poof! Poof!"
The wind orbs shattered on impact, and the Anemo energy contained within them erupted instantly. There was no loud bang, only a muffled howl as a massive amount of dust was violently kicked up, like a thick, earth-yellow curtain rising in an instant, completely engulfing the entire weapon pile and the circle of soldiers around it!
"Enemy attack!"
"On alert!"
The enraged shouts and violent coughs of the soldiers echoed from within the dust. They instinctively tightened their grip on their weapons and spread out into a defensive formation, trying to charge out of the dust curtain to find the enemy, but their vision was completely obscured, making it impossible to move an inch.
Amidst the chaos, Coppelia and Columbina descended silently and vertically from the sky, landing right in the center of the weapon pile.
The moment Columbina's feet touched the ground, a fluctuation of power emanated from her body. She raised her arms slightly, and the heavy wooden chests on the ground, along with the scattered swords, blades, and spears, seemed to instantly lose their weight. They all trembled in unison and then floated up, suspended in the air around her.
The next moment, Coppelia wrapped an arm around Columbina's waist as a current of air swirled around her. She leaped violently into the air as a powerful Anemo thrust erupted beneath her feet, propelling the two of them, along with the astonishing number of levitating weapons, as if lifted by an invisible hand. They ascended rapidly, quickly disappearing into the darkness above.
The entire process took but a few breaths.
When the kicked-up dust finally settled and vision was restored, the soldiers in the clearing stared at the empty ground before them, completely dumbfounded.
They rubbed their eyes hard, their faces filled with confusion and disbelief.
The weapon chests that were just there, piled up like a small mountain... were gone?
A full three hundred weapons, right under their noses, had vanished without a trace in just a few seconds!
Someone even subconsciously reached out to touch the spot where the wooden chests had been stacked, only to feel the cold ground that had been swept by the wind.
"What happened?! Where did the enemy attack come from?!" The supervising official, leading a squad of soldiers, "hurriedly" arrived at the opportune moment. He bellowed, his face showing the perfect amount of shock and anger.
A soldier, coming to his senses, stammered out a report: "S-Sir! Just now... a strange wind suddenly blew up, a lot of dust! And then... and then the weapons... the weapons were all gone!"
The official frowned, glanced at the empty site, and spoke in a scolding tone: "What nonsense are you spouting! Did I ever put any weapons here? I think you were slacking off on guard duty and scaring yourselves! Don't make a fuss over nothing!"
The soldiers exchanged glances, not daring to say another word.
...
However, the matter didn't end there. A few of the soldiers who had been on guard duty gathered together, feeling that something was increasingly off. Thinking of the higher-ups' strict orders to search for the "foreign god," a strange feeling crept into their hearts.
One soldier spoke hesitantly: "That cloud of dust earlier... did you guys notice? It didn't seem like a natural gust of wind."
Another soldier squatted down, examining the dust residue on the ground: "Look at this dust, it was clearly blown outwards from the center."
"Outwards from the center?" a third soldier frowned. "What kind of wind does that? Unless..."
The fourth soldier's voice carried a hint of fear as he lowered his voice: "Could it be... that it's really the 'foreign god' at work?"
The first soldier who had spoken had a flash of greed in his eyes. "Should we tell him?" he asked, pointing in the direction the official had left.
"Tell him? Wouldn't the credit all go to him?"
The soldier who made the suggestion shook his head. "Something related to the foreign god... we should find a way to report it directly to the King! The merit would be enough for a promotion!"
The men exchanged a look of tacit understanding.
...
Inside the resistance forces' contact point, a candle flame flickered. Several people were gathered, talking in low voices, when the door was pushed open. Orion's figure appeared in the doorway, his face pale, his steps somewhat unsteady.
"Orion!"
"You're back!"
The people in the room were startled at first, but then their faces broke into joyous surprise as they all rushed to greet him.
"We were just worrying about how to rescue you from the base of the tower! It's so good to have you back!"
"How did you get back? Why would they release you?"
Orion looked at his comrades' concerned faces and managed a weary smile. He answered their questions one by one, briefly recounting how Amos had saved him and the process of being forced to "admit his fault" before the Solitary King.
After chatting for a while, the smile on Orion's face gradually faded. He took a deep breath and said, "It seems everyone heard my final warning. In that case... I can leave without worry."
"Leave?" a companion asked, confused. "Wait, why are you leaving just after coming back?"
Orion lifted his own arm. Beneath his sleeve were crisscrossing, fine bloody lines cut by the fierce winds. His fingers still trembled uncontrollably to this day.
"You've all seen it and heard it for yourselves. My paper and pen, and this mouth of mine... they're completely useless."
His voice was heavy with a profound sense of powerlessness. "What's more, I..."
Before he could finish his sentence, a gentle breeze suddenly blew from behind the crowd, lightly brushing against his cheek.
The wind should have been refreshing, but Orion reacted as if seared by a red-hot iron. His body shuddered violently, the color instantly draining from his face as he stumbled back in terror. His back slammed hard against the cold stone wall, and he instinctively threw his arms up to protect himself.
"Wind... Wind!" He squeezed out a broken, terrified sound from his throat. That night of endless, brutal wind torture at the base of the tower had carved fear deep into his very bones.
The little spirit Venti, glowing with a soft light, had curiously flown past the crowd to appear before Orion.
But when he saw how terrified Orion was of the wind he brought, he immediately stopped in confusion, the gentle breeze around him instantly retracting.
Why? Everyone feels happy when my wind blows on them, but he's so scared?
The breeze dissipated, and the terrible sense of pressure vanished. Orion gasped for breath, finally composing himself enough to look closely at the white spirit floating in front of him.
"What... is that?" he asked, his voice hoarse with the lingering dread of his ordeal.
___
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