Dusk settled slowly over Windrise.
“Wrong.
Still wrong.
A little farther to the left.
Do you remember nothing from last night?”
The familiar voice came from directly behind Barbara.
She startled so violently that the shovel slipped from her hands and struck the ground with a dull thud.
“I’m sorry!”
The apology escaped her before she could think.
Returning to Windrise alone to search for evidence did feel somewhat dishonest.
After everything that had happened at the Knights of Favonius headquarters, continuing to investigate Lucian Vale suggested that she still did not trust him.
But she had been too curious to let the matter go.
Then the meaning of his words reached her.
A little farther to the left?
Barbara spun around.
Lucian stood several steps away, looking entirely at ease.
Her eyes widened.
“So it was real!”
The pits from the previous night had existed.
Her memory had not betrayed her.
“You lied to me,” Barbara accused.
“You lied to everyone at the Knights of Favonius headquarters!”
Lucian shrugged.
“I never denied digging.
You simply failed to produce evidence.”
“That is the same thing!”
“No, it is not.
You made an accusation.
I asked you to prove it.
If you have any backbone, find the evidence yourself.”
His tone was infuriatingly calm.
In truth, Lucian had only come down because Barbara had spent the entire afternoon searching in the wrong place.
Watching her dig random patches of soil had eventually become painful even for him.
Barbara puffed out her cheeks, retrieved the shovel, and tightened both hands around its handle.
Backbone.
Fine.
She would show him backbone.
With renewed determination, she drove the shovel into the earth.
Lucian watched the spot she chose.
“Still wrong.
Farther left.”
Barbara froze.
Then she silently moved one step sideways and began again.
Once Barbara found the correct location, she dug with impressive enthusiasm.
Unfortunately, enthusiasm could not compensate for the difference between her strength and Lucian’s.
The previous night, he had excavated a pit roughly three metres deep in minutes.
Barbara had to loosen the soil carefully, lift it out shovel by shovel, and keep the sides from collapsing around her.
It would take a long time.
Lucian sat nearby and watched for a while.
Then boredom won.
His gaze wandered to the patches of lawn Barbara had trampled during her earlier search.
She had tried to repair some of the damage with Hydro, but water alone could not restore crushed roots and displaced soil.
Muddy scars still marked the grass.
Lucian raised one hand.
Life spread quietly beneath the ground.
Bent blades straightened.
Torn roots reconnected.
The soil settled and compacted itself.
Within moments, the damaged lawn looked untouched.
He even reinforced the earth around Barbara’s new pit so it would not collapse on her.
“Barbara.”
She stopped digging and looked up.
“What?”
Sweat clung to her forehead.
She planted the shovel upright in the soil and wiped her face with her sleeve.
Lucian crouched at the edge of the pit and studied her for a moment.
Then he held out a chilled bottle of apple juice.
“Want something to drink?”
Barbara’s expression brightened.
“Thank you.”
She accepted it with both hands, opened the bottle, and drank in small, grateful sips.
The juice was cold, sweet, and refreshing after hours of work.
For a brief moment, Lucian seemed unexpectedly considerate.
As sweet as the apple juice, Barbara thought.
Lucian waited until she finished.
“Done?”
Barbara nodded.
“Then get back to work.”
Her warm impression cracked immediately.
“Understood!”
She set the bottle aside, grabbed the shovel, and returned to digging.
Lucian nodded approvingly.
“That’s the spirit.
Keep going.
There is a surprise waiting at the bottom.”
Barbara paused.
“A surprise?”
“What kind?”
“You will know when you find it.”
Her motivation changed at once.
At first, she had dug to prove that Lucian had disturbed Windrise.
Now curiosity pulled her downward.
Every shovel of earth brought her closer to whatever he had hidden there.
Perhaps it was evidence.
Perhaps treasure.
Perhaps another strange object connected to the Anemo Archon.
Lucian offered no clue.
The sky darkened.
Not long before the stars appeared, Lucian stood and brushed the grass from his clothes.
“Stay safe.”
Barbara looked up from the pit.
“You’re leaving?”
“I have things to do.”
A small, unexpected reluctance touched her, but she did not ask him to remain.
She merely nodded and continued digging.
By the time the first stars watched over Windrise, Barbara finally struck something solid.
Her exhaustion vanished.
She cleared the soil with her hands and uncovered an object wrapped in thick paper.
Its shape resembled a picture frame.
Barbara carefully lifted it free.
“What is this?”
She peeled away the wrapping.
A framed black-and-white sketch lay beneath it.
The drawing captured Barbara standing at the bottom of the pit, one hand resting on the shovel beside her as she looked upward.
Every detail had been preserved—the loose strands of hair around her face, the dirt on her sleeves, the stubborn set of her mouth, and even the beads of sweat across her forehead.
In the lower-left corner, elegant handwriting formed a short title.
Record: Barbara With Backbone.
Barbara stared.
The frame gradually blurred as tears gathered in her eyes.
She did not fully understand why the gift affected her so strongly.
Perhaps because Lucian had noticed her determination.
Perhaps because the drawing transformed an embarrassing afternoon into a memory worth keeping.
Perhaps because someone who constantly teased her had also quietly made sure the pit would not collapse, brought her a drink, and left behind something created only for her.
A confusing mixture of embarrassment, gratitude, and warmth filled her chest.
Barbara hugged the frame carefully.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“I really like it.”
Half a day earlier, Varka had finally opened the letter delivered by Lucian.
The contents gave him an immediate headache.
The Abyss Order’s activity in the northern regions was expanding.
The threat had become serious enough that Alice herself had sent a warning through the Hexenzirkel.
If she had taken the trouble to write personally, then Mondstadt could no longer afford to delay.
“Jean, read this.”
Varka handed the letter across the desk.
“The situation is urgent.
We need to act.”
Jean scanned the contents quickly.
Her expression grew grave.
Mondstadt enjoyed the protection of the Anemo Archon, and that protection made a full-scale invasion by the Abyss less likely.
But no one within the Knights underestimated what the Abyss could unleash.
The devastation caused by Durin remained carved into Mondstadt’s history.
Even centuries later, the poisonous dragon’s remains continued to stain Dragonspine.
“What do you intend to do, Grand Master?” Jean asked.
As Acting Grand Master, she handled countless daily decisions.
Matters of this scale, however, still required Varka’s judgment.
Varka leaned back in his chair.
“What happened this morning proves that the Anemo Archon has returned—or at least that he is watching Mondstadt.”
He tapped one finger against the letter.
“The Windblume Festival begins in half a month.
I will find an opportunity to explain the situation to Barbatos personally and ask for his opinion.”
Jean nodded.
“That would be best.”
Before either could continue, the letter on the table ignited.
Jean’s hand moved instinctively toward her sword.
The flame did not spread.
It consumed only the writing, leaving the paper itself untouched.
As the original words vanished, new lines appeared in their place.
The Fifth Descender — Lucian Vale
Beneath it, in noticeably less formal handwriting, appeared another message.
I’m out of money.
The commission is cash on delivery.
A cheerful little musical note had been drawn at the end.
Silence settled over the office.
Varka looked at the letter.
Jean looked at Varka.
Neither spoke.
At last, Varka slowly reached for his purse.
“Woo-hoo!”
Lucian streaked across the evening sky with the Anemo Vision hanging at his waist.
Green light wrapped around him as he climbed, turned, dived, and spun through the wind with the delighted recklessness of someone who had just discovered a new toy.
In the game he remembered, characters had been limited by carefully designed mechanics.
Reality had no such restrictions.
A Vision could be used according to the bearer’s understanding and control.
Perhaps elemental flight normally consumed stamina or some form of internal energy, but Lucian’s recovery exceeded the drain so completely that he felt nothing.
The wind responded to him with increasing ease.
Within a short time, he learned how to hover, accelerate, brake, and redirect himself without losing balance.
He had always been capable of flight.
As the Ultimate Life Form, growing wings was trivial.
But biological transformation required changing his shape.
Using Anemo allowed him to remain perfectly human while moving through the sky.
It was cleaner.
Faster to activate.
And much more convenient.
There was only one problem.
Lucian had no idea where he was.
He had flown aimlessly for too long.
No city walls, winery, statue, or recognizable mountain stood within sight.
The landscape below consisted of plains, scattered trees, and distant rock formations that all looked equally unhelpful.
Then he spotted a familiar figure.
Lucian slowed at once and descended.
After separating from Amber at noon, Eula led her reconnaissance company into the wilderness to clear monsters from the roads.
She performed her duties as efficiently as ever.
Her thoughts did not.
For the entire afternoon, the phrase token of love repeated inside her mind.
Lucian had spoken casually at Good Hunter, but those words had struck something she kept buried beneath pride and discipline.
Inferiority.
Eula hated the feeling.
She had endured years of hostility from Mondstadt without allowing it to bend her.
She could ignore insults, repay suspicion with professionalism, and turn every slight into one more “vengeance” to remember.
Yet the possibility that Lucian already belonged to someone else made her question herself in ways the Lawrence name never had.
Why had she cared?
They had met only twice.
He had greeted her once.
He had treated her identity with a calmness she found precious, but that did not mean anything more.
During the mission, Eula overheard members of her company discussing the stranger who had caused a sensation at headquarters.
His name was Lucian Vale.
He had already become famous among the Knights.
Eula’s mood worsened.
They had met twice, and she had even returned his greeting, yet she had learned his name from someone else.
A scout suddenly shouted.
“Defensive formation!”
Eula’s company reacted instantly.
Weapons came free.
The knights spread into formation and looked toward the sky.
A bright sphere of cyan-green light was descending directly toward them.
It moved too quickly to intercept.
“Scatter!”
The company opened a clear space.
The light struck the ground without an explosion.
Wind rushed outward, bending the grass and tugging at cloaks.
As the glow faded, Lucian stood in its center.
Several knights recognized him and lowered their weapons.
The mysterious visitor from headquarters was not an enemy.
Lucian looked around.
His gaze settled on Eula.
He scratched the side of his head and walked toward her with completely unearned familiarity.
“Eula, could you help me?”
She stared.
He knew her name.
More importantly, he remembered it.
“I’m lost,” Lucian continued.
“Which direction is the City of Mondstadt?”
Eula did not answer.
“Eula?”
He stepped closer and waved one hand in front of her face.
“Are you there?”
She snapped back to reality.
A faint blush touched her cheeks.
Eula took one step backward, turned her face aside, and tried to make her voice sound indifferent.
“It will be dark soon.
The wilderness becomes dangerous at night, and you may lose your way again if you travel alone.”
Lucian glanced at the Anemo Vision on his waist.
The man who had just flown across half of Mondstadt without knowing where he was found no flaw in her reasoning.
Eula continued, quieter than before.
“Our mission is nearly complete.
You can return to the city with us afterward.”
By the time she finished, the color in her cheeks had deepened.
Her knights looked at one another.
Lucian smiled.
“Sure.
That works.”
Eula turned away before anyone could see how pleased the answer made her
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