“You seriously don’t have a Vision?” Lisa stared at Lumine in utter disbelief.
Jean followed suit, looking Lumine up and down with renewed scrutiny.
“To channel elemental power without a Vision…
You’re becoming more fascinating by the second, little cutie,” Lisa continued, a playful curve to her lips.
“It defies all reason.
Lumine, do you have any idea why you possess such extraordinary traits?” Jean asked, turning her gaze to the traveler.
Lumine gave a slow shake of her head.
“I suppose not,” Jean said matter-of-factly.
“In any case, you should hold onto this crystal, little cutie,” Lisa added.
“Keeping it with us would only cause needless pain.”
“Agreed,” the Acting Grand Master concurred.
“Mm, alright,” Lumine nodded.
“Then, Lumine…
this marks the Knights of Favonius’s second imposition upon you,” Jean said solemnly.
“Please go ahead, Acting Grand Master,” Lumine replied, meeting her gaze.
“Please accept the rank of Honorary Knight of the Knights of Favonius…
alongside the profound gratitude of the Acting Grand Master,” Jean declared with unwavering gravity.
“An…
Honorary Knight of Favonius?” Paimon gasped, her eyes wide with shock.
“Indeed.
It is the highest honor the Knights can bestow upon an outsider,” Jean explained.
“Is this really okay?” Lumine asked, a hint of hesitation in her voice.
“Of course.
It is a title you have more than earned,” Jean said gently.
“And, naturally, we must ask for your continued assistance in seeking the answers to these lingering mysteries,” Jean added, her eyes fixed steadily on Lumine.
“Mm.” Lumine gave a firm nod.
“Of course, we’ll need the help of our two little cuties as well,” Lisa said, casting a teasing glance toward Paimon and Eve.
“No problem at all!
But you’ve got to treat Paimon to some really good food afterward!” Paimon declared, puffing out her cheeks with haughty pride.
“Er…
me too,” Eve chimed in, voicing her agreement.
Not even a goddess could resist the temptation of fine cuisine.
Ever since tasting the culinary delights of Mondstadt, Eve had completely surrendered to the philosophy of *zhenxiang*—the irresistible truth of delicious food.
*Damn it, when did I become so easily corrupted…?* Eve muttered inwardly, her conscience gnawing at her with a bitter sense of regret.
“Hahahaha, what an absolutely adorable little creature,” Lisa chuckled, amused.
“The dragon’s frenzy, paired with these bizarre crystals…
I’m certain the truth behind them is inextricably tied to the peace of Mondstadt.”
“May the wind wipe clean your eyes, and grant you sight of the truth.”
If any new discoveries come to light, we shall meet again right here, Honorary Knight of Mondstadt.” With those words, Jean concluded the audience.
Lumine turned and left the Knights of Favonius headquarters, accompanied by Eve and Paimon.
As they stepped out onto the bustling avenue, Paimon suddenly piped up:
“Hey, Lumine!
Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Back at the ruins, besides the dragon and those weird crystals, there was clearly a white-ribboned girl wearing a green hat!” Paimon insisted, tilting her head in confusion.
“A boy!” Eve instantly corrected.
“I…
have a feeling he isn’t a bad person,” Lumine murmured, a faraway look in her eyes.
“See?
I told you!
You guys remember that green-clad guy too!” Paimon pressed on.
“He’s about as green as that random guy down the street!”
“Oh!
Whoa, you’re right!
It’s the exact same shade of green!
What a coincidence,” Eve remarked, peering down at a passerby below.
“Wait…
that…
that actually looks like him!” Lumine said, her expression turning helpless.
“Eh?
Really?” Paimon gasped.
“Er…
I think so!” Eve finally snapped to attention, realizing that the figure down below was none other than Barbatos himself.
“Let’s catch up and get some answers!” Lumine sprang into motion without a moment’s hesitation.
They dashed down bustling streets and weaved through dense crowds of people, yet somehow, the green-clad figure remained just out of reach.
Finally, they skidded to a halt before the entrance of a narrow alleyway.
“That green guy—he vanished!” Paimon cried out, baffled.
She had clearly seen him sprint right down this way just a second ago.
Suddenly, a gorgeous, ethereal melody drifted in from afar, carried by the breeze.
“Look!
Isn’t that him?” Eve’s fluid form bulged slightly on one side as she pointed a small, gelatinous pseudopod toward the direction of the Anemo God Plaza.
“Looks like it…” Lumine muttered after taking a careful look.
“That jerk—when did he slip around behind us?!” Paimon shrieked in disbelief.
“Come on, let’s head back,” Lumine said, turning on her heel and heading toward the plaza.
By the time Eve and her companions arrived at the Anemo God Plaza, the air was filled with the resonant strains of a harp, and a sizable crowd of Mondstadt citizens had already gathered.
They had formed a circle around the green-clad bard, utterly captivated by the tune he was playing.
this isn’t half bad,” Paimon remarked, crossing her arms.
“Shh, keep your voice down, Paimon,” Eve whispered a warning.
“The bard’s about to start the story.”
At that very moment, accompanied by the gentle strumming of his lyre, the green bard wove a tale so vivid that an ancient vista seemed to unfurl directly within the minds of the listeners.
“The story I shall tell begins in ages past, when gods yet walked upon the earth.”
“A dragon of the skies descended from the heavens, filled with boundless curiosity for all things in the mortal realm.”
“The dragon sought its own answers, yet found itself unable to comprehend the chaotic entanglements of the mortal world.”
“The Singer of the Wind struck the strings of the lyre, and the Skyward Lyre answered its every query one by one.”
“The dragon was merely a curious child, flying free and untouched by sorrow—until this very day.”
“It listened to the songs and poetry, striving to learn how to sing so that all creation might understand its heart.
The singer and the dragon passed into legend, and a dark era descended upon the land.”
“In that hour, the Lion’s Fang grew decayed, the Falcon Banner drooped lifelessly, and another evil dragon drew near to Mondstadt.”
“Hardship cast its heavy shadow over the great cathedral.”
“The poet wove those bitter sighs anew into verse.”
“Heeding the call, the Dragon of the East came forth, locking the evil dragon in a mortal struggle amidst the howling tempest.”
“The Dragon of the East swallowed the foul blood of the beast, and plunged into a deep slumber.”
“Yet years later, none recognized it upon its awakening.”
“With sorrow and fury, the colossal dragon cried out: ‘Why do the people of this age cast me aside and revile me?'”
“The Skyward Lyre offered no reply.”
“Wrath and grief, life and toxic blood, all mingled together as tears fell from the great dragon’s eyes.”
“The verses fell silent, and corruption took hold with terrifying ease.”
“Yet the Skyward Lyre could no longer speak a single word…”
As the tale came to an end, a wave of warm applause rippled through the gathering crowd.
The brilliance of the story had won the hearts of everyone present.
Only Eve knew that this was no mere fable; it was the harrowing account of Dvalin’s ancient clash with the corrupt dragon Durin.
Centuries had washed away the blood-soaked reality of history, reducing it to a captivating piece of folklore for the masses.
A pang of profound empathy stirred within Eve.
Mortals always said that the forest remembers all things, yet on that fateful day long ago, not even the forest had remembered her.
“Since everyone enjoyed the tale so much, then…” Venti began smoothly, reaching up to lift the hat from his head.
A sudden, ominous premonition seized Eve.
“If you have Mora, pitch in some Mora; if you don’t, just lend us your presence.
Thank you all so very much!” Wielding his green hat like a collection bowl, Venti made a full circuit around the crowd.
*Sigh, I knew it.* Eve was utterly speechless.
Could this guy act like an actual god for even a single second?
Yet, the moment Eve caught sight of the hat brimming with glittering, golden Mora, her perspective shifted instantly.
*Well…
busking actually doesn’t seem so bad after all…*