Above Mondstadt, dark clouds churned heavily as violent winds howled through the sky, creating an atmosphere even more oppressive than the calm before a storm.
Stormterror Dvalin circled low over the city.
Each beat of his massive wings unleashed terrifying air currents—trees were uprooted, rooftops torn apart and hurled away.
His amber dragon eyes looked down in agony at the panicked people fleeing in all directions, listening to their shrill screams and cries of fear.
Those sounds were like the sharpest blades, stabbing straight into his heart.
Weren't we… companions?
His gaze swept past the towering statue of Barbatos, past the homes and farmlands he had silently protected countless times before, past the people who now looked at him with fear and disgust—some even raising bows and ballistae toward him.
Thousands of years of traveling together.
Basking in the Anemo Archon's blessing.
Protecting this land side by side…
Have you all forgotten?
The songs once sung joyfully in the breeze.
The oaths sworn beneath the starry sky.
The sincerity with which he regarded them as his people—his friends…
Did all of it scatter into the wind?
Injustice and confusion wrapped tightly around Dvalin's mind.
He remembered lifting children's kites with gentle gusts.
He remembered nourishing dry lands with rain.
He remembered dispelling the fog that once blanketed mountains and forests.
Every moment of protection—
That was the meaning of his existence as one of the Four Winds.
But what had it all brought him in return?!
Forgetting.
Fear.
Cold arrows.
Then what was everything I did… worth?!
The deepest pain came not from wounds—but from being forgotten.
From having all his sacrifices utterly denied.
And when he thought of the pain that had gnawed at his bones day and night for hundreds of years—
The agony caused by swallowing the corrupted blood of the poison dragon Durin, all to protect this land—
The last barrier of reason finally shattered.
I endured this bone-eating pain for centuries!
For you! For Mondstadt!
The pain of betrayal by those he trusted most burned his soul far more fiercely than Durin's poison ever could.
I hate this—!!!
A sorrowful, furious roar tore through the sky.
No longer an internal lament, it transformed into tangible sound waves and berserk Anemo power, crashing violently toward the city he once swore to protect.
He hated the endless pain.
Hated the crushing loneliness.
If protection would never be remembered—
If sacrifice was seen as something owed, even feared—
Then let this furious storm swallow everything!
At least this way… you'll finally "see" me, won't you?
With despair and madness intertwined, Dvalin gathered even more terrifying power and dove straight toward the heart of Mondstadt!
Mondstadt – Knights of Favonius Headquarters
On the rooftop terrace, Acting Grand Master Jean Gunnhildr gripped her Favonius Sword, eyes locked on the raging dragon above.
Beside her, Kaeya wore no trace of his usual smile.
Lisa looked weary yet grave.
Amber held her bow tightly—fear in her eyes, but also determination to protect her home.
"Grand Master! Civilian evacuation is still underway, but its attack range is too large!"
A knight rushed in with an urgent report.
Jean raised a hand to signal acknowledgment.
Her gaze never left Dvalin.
She knew this was no ordinary dragon.
This was Dvalin, the East Wind Dragon, one of the Four Winds bound to Mondstadt and to Lord Barbatos for millennia.
Killing him had never been an option.
That would be a betrayal of ancient pacts—and a desecration of Mondstadt's history and faith.
"We must not kill Dvalin."
Jean's voice was calm and resolute, carrying clearly to every knight present.
"He was once our protector. If he has lost control, there must be a reason. Our priority is to evacuate and protect civilians—to prevent further casualties."
She took a deep breath and made a painful decision.
"Attempt to drive him away.
Use ballistae to target the surrounding airspace—create noise and pressure waves. Strike nearby structures if necessary to guide him away from populated areas.
Do not aim to injure him."
In a moment where communication was impossible, this was the only way Jean could protect both the people and Dvalin.
The knights moved immediately.
Kaeya glanced at Jean's tense profile and asked quietly:
"And if… he refuses to leave?"
Jean fell silent. Her grip on the sword tightened, fingers whitening.
"Then… we stall. Buy time. Until we find another way."
Or until a miracle appears.
She didn't say it aloud—but her eyes drifted toward the Windrise Plaza.
Lord Barbatos… if you can still hear your people's prayers… please guide us.
Above, Dvalin roared again, unleashing another devastating gust toward the city.
"Grand Master! There are still civilians in that alley!"
Just as the destructive wind blast was about to swallow the trapped crowd—
A green streak of light tore through the clouds like a meteor and slammed down between the wind blast and the people!
A shockwave rippled outward.
When the dust settled, a figure was seen kneeling on one knee in a classic superhero landing—one fist braced against the ground, head lowered, black hair dancing in the turbulent air.
The terrifying wind blast—strong enough to shatter stone—
vanished the instant it touched the invisible barrier before him, dissolving into a gentle breeze that only fluttered the civilians' clothes.
"Did I… come late?"
The survivors stood frozen, staring in disbelief.
"It's—It's Mr. Yi Chen!"
A knight shouted in delight.
Jean's heart finally dropped back into her chest. She rushed forward.
"Yi Chen! Are you alright? Are you hurt?!"
Yi Chen finally lifted his head, revealing a familiar face—and an awkward smile.
He blinked at Jean and said in a small, embarrassed voice:
"Well… uh… Jean… I think I messed up the landing."
"My kneecap might've… shattered."
The heroic pose collapsed instantly.
"Could you… help me up? I can't really stand."
Jean: "???"
The Knights: "???"
Kaeya nearly laughed out loud, hastily disguising it with a cough.
Jean didn't know whether to laugh or scold. The tension drained instantly as she grabbed his arm to steady him.
"You… honestly…"
The contrast was just too absurd.
High above, Stormterror Dvalin—who had been gathering strength for another furious attack—noticed the ridiculous scene below.
Hearing Yi Chen openly complain about his "shattered kneecap," Dvalin's massive body paused ever so slightly.
A strange, almost amused bubble surfaced within his sea of rage and sorrow.
Where did this guy come from?
Big entrance… and that's it?
For a brief moment, the raging hatred inside him was interrupted—
and he almost… laughed?
No!
I am the vengeful East Wind Dragon! A being of terror and destruction!
If I laugh now, all my built-up presence will collapse!
Forcing his expression rigid, Dvalin suppressed that treacherous hint of humor and released an even deeper, angrier roar—
pretending it was rage, not embarrassment.
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