Venti made a face at Decarabian before lightly placing his right hand on Dvalin. In an instant, both man and dragon vanished from the ruins.
"Careful, or someone might come after you?"
Decarabian tapped the armrest of his throne lightly. "How amusing. I'm looking forward to it."
"Familiar faces are dull to fight against. At this point, I'd prefer someone new to give me a real challenge."
As for who this "dull, familiar face" might be, a certain wolf god watching over Wolvendom had thoughts—and questions about Decarabian's manners.
"Barbatos, why did you warn him to be careful?"
Dvalin flew through the sky, his voice laced with confusion.
"Because I sensed a fear from him—a fear close to absolute death. If it really came to blows, it wouldn't take more than a few moves before he reduced me to nothing but pure Anemo, cycling back into the elemental flow."
"Someone like that... is there even anyone who could stand against him and guarantee a win?"
"Guaranteeing a win would be difficult, but there are plenty of people interested in taking a shot at that Tornado Brains," Venti replied with a chuckle, patting Dvalin's scales lightly.
"Even one of my old friends, who remained strong despite enduring erosion, has thought about it. For all his progress, Tornado Brains is still just a novice compared to that friend's father."
Dvalin hesitated before asking, "Forget that—why did you even bother warning him? Was it necessary?"
"Of course it was."
A gentle breeze swirled around Venti as he strummed a lyre formed from the wind itself.
"Before you fought Durin's blood-shadow, I made a bet with Decarabian. I told him the Knights of Favonius would win this battle gloriously, but he believed divine intervention would still be needed to overcome the crisis."
"The stakes were simple: if I lost, I'd give him some of the information he wanted. If he lost, he'd have to intervene in Mondstadt's greatest crises five times."
Venti's fingers danced across the lyre strings, his expression smug. "And clearly, I won."
Dvalin sighed heavily. "You devious bard. Once again, I question if becoming your familiar was ever a wise decision."
Looking at the lineup that had prevailed, it was hard to argue otherwise. Liyue's Crown Prince, Albedo—a being born from the concept of "perfection,"—and Rosalyne, who had burned her life force to shift the stalemate on the battlefield.
Not to mention that strange man from Snezhnaya, who Decarabian claimed might one day have the potential to challenge the gods. Who could say if that was true?
Mora's mortal vessel, the Ice Queen's direct subordinate—each of them had ties to the divine or near-divine powers.
And let's not forget Venti's own contribution, manipulating the Knights' manifested will to fight Durin. That was Venti's way of nudging Decarabian to see Mondstadt's unyielding spirit and complete their wager.
Yet here he was, bragging about being a strategic mastermind, which made Dvalin want to cough up blood in secondhand embarrassment.
"Hey, hey, what's with that look? You don't think my wager was brilliant?" Venti smacked Dvalin's back playfully.
"Joking aside, someone like me would be hailed as a legendary tactician in Liyue! Even my old friends would marvel at my wisdom—probably stand up to toast me the next time we meet!"
"...Sigh."
Life wasn't easy for a wind dragon, Dvalin thought.
"Why don't you try that line on Sanqiu? I can promise he'd never repeat it to Morax."
Venti's mouth twitched. "Never repeat it? Who'd believe that?"
He knew Sanqiu too well. At best, the words would be repeated verbatim. More likely, they'd be embellished, with an extra line like, 'Barbatos says Morax's wisdom doesn't hold a candle to his.'
"Who was behind all this chaos in Mondstadt?" Venti scratched his head. "Someone was even trying to convince Sanqiu to serve their princess. What kind of nonsense is that?"
"Nonsense? So, there's more to this story?"
"Not exactly." Venti smiled wryly. "But for certain historical reasons, some of those 'little ones' down below—or some of the old ones—seem to have taken a particular interest in Sanqiu and his family.
"Whatever hopes they had in the past are probably long gone. It's normal they'd now turn their focus to him. It's just... even Sanqiu himself doesn't realize it yet."
Hearing that, Dvalin felt oddly comforted.
Take today, for example. If not for some of Decarabian's strange remarks, Dvalin would never have known how deeply Venti concealed his secrets. It made him feel a pang of frustration, like questioning, Am I truly your familiar?
But now, learning there was someone even more in the dark—a target of interest from both their elders and a deity—made Dvalin feel better by comparison.
Beyond the snowy mountains, in the Knights of Favonius' camp:
Gu Sanqiu, oblivious to Dvalin's mental comparison, was enjoying drinks with Kaeya and Eula. Their makeshift "Ignore Your Injuries, Drink a Hundred Rounds" squad had come together for some well-earned fun.
Of course, doing this required a heart strong enough to withstand the murderous glares of the camp medics.
The excuse was ready: as Vision bearers, their recovery capabilities far exceeded ordinary people's, so it was better to leave precious medical supplies for the knights who needed them most.
In truth, they were just sick of the tension.
With the camp's military order, Gu Sanqiu and Kaeya couldn't indulge in anything too wild. And with the mountains recently secured, Eula couldn't retreat to her hideout for an icy bath.
So, drinks it was.
Meanwhile, Diluc was resting in a small tent, likely being tended to with precision care. Kaeya briefly entertained the idea of having a smitten medic rub ointment on his "dear brother," but figured it would probably get him killed.
The knights still capable of fighting patrolled diligently. In the medical tent, Albedo and the medics struggled to suppress the fiery curiosity in their eyes as they watched Aether move among the wounded.
With Paimon hovering nervously, Aether placed his hands over the injured knights one by one, purifying the corrosive effects of their wounds.
The most severely injured were immediately surrounded by medics for emergency treatment as soon as the purification was complete.
Aether, however, was visibly tense—not because of the process itself, but because of the burning gazes on his back.
Honestly, even he didn't know why Sanqiu was so certain he had this purification ability.
Albedo was curious too, but he chose not to ask. Everyone had their secrets, after all—and Albedo had his own share of things he hadn't told Gu Sanqiu.
Paimon, meanwhile, was deep in thought.
"If this ability gets perfected," she muttered, "couldn't we start charging people who get cursed by Abyss Mages?"
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