Illya rose from the crater in the mountain side, taking in the view from her high point.
"Whistle~ Jeeze… what a dump…" She muttered, scratching her head in bewilderment.
Classic time-worn ruins devastated by time. The buildings were crumbling, barely held together by the expertise with which they were constructed. The surrounding landscape was ripped apart by gruesome winds and divine wrath. The scars were new and old. This place was clearly still a point of conflict, though the greatest wounds seemed to come from the claws of a beast and large-scale blasts of… wind?
"Urgh… Have I found myself in a beast's lair again?" she complained with a mix of resignation and curiosity. This happened more times than she cared to count, not that she truly minded it all too much. After all, despite the dreariness of such places, they often held the greatest of her quarry.
She looked up at the central tower at the heart of the ruins. It was circled by a veritable tornado of winds. They swirled fast enough that she was sure they would slice any who would approach. Interestingly, the tower looked to be an observatory.
"Was this a city of star gazers?" She mused. "And this wind… it has two distinct feelings. A tainted, wild aura and an old… well-structured aura. It's like two opposites, chaos and order, divine and demonic. If I were to guess, the wild aura belongs to the beast that did all this. Well, at least the recent damage; I doubt it was responsible for the older scars."
Suddenly, a powerful guttural roar ripped across the landscape as a beast that looked like the combination of a feathered dragon and a glaucus flew overhead. Its form could only be called beautiful though the ominous aura radiating off the two blood spokes jutting out of its back dispelled any notions that this would be a peaceful encounter. They radiated hate, pain, and rage. Different worlds had different rules, but this wasn't too atypical for a dragon in her experience, especially the less-intelligent variety.
At its call, several powerful tornadoes descended in all directions. They ravaged the land, ripping it apart with wild abandon. It was clear; this beast didn't care a bit about the home she assumed it called its lair.
Illya found herself troubled. The raging winds made flight unwise. Trying to compete with a wind dragon in their own domain was suicide. Since she couldn't go to it, she needed it to come to her.
She raised her hand, summoning a whitish gray bow made of carapace-like material strung with an ominous blue string, holding it down at a standby. She wouldn't initiate this fight, but she was ready.
Seeing her weapon, even down, the beast's rage spiked, throwing it into a frenzy. Its mouth filled with violent wind-like energy. In response, she drew her bow, condensing an arrow from a drop of aurora-colored water. At full draw, it crystalized, ready for use. Simultaneously, Illya and her rabid foe fired.
Illya, not waiting for the collision, burst into motion. In her peripheral, she witnessed the expected result, her arrow being blasted into powder. Moving quickly, she continued to fire shots, shooting at odd angles to match the wind.
The dragon, on the other hand, didn't pay the arrows any mind, not believing them to be of any threat; they never were. Instead, it focused on directing the nearby tornadoes toward her. It didn't have an easy time though due to her speed, as she moved much faster than any that he had seen in the city of wind in recent times. While he wouldn't compare her to his lord at his prime, she was definitely making his life very difficult.
However, his expression changed when three of her arrows hit their mark, striking him in his hide. Each felt like pin pricks that sapped the energy from his veins. He felt like a bucket that had just gained small hair-line cracks and was leaking water. He didn't know where his energy was going; it just seemed to disappear. Though, in his maddened state, that didn't matter. What did was the pain. Each wound was agonizing, sending sharp jolts of pulsing pain throughout his nervous system. They were like potent venom tearing away at him, leaving only tattered emptiness in its wake. While each didn't do too much true damage, every instinct in his degraded body and eroded mind screamed at him to keep away from the rest; he couldn't let himself get hit with too many of those.
A roar erupted from the area as pulse bombs of super condensed wind descended on the ruinous battleground. They instantly cracked the floor, creating deep fissures of super-heated wind energy that made moving a more tedious endeavor. Yet, to the dragon's dismay, his foe wasn't visibly phased. Her steps, guided by rich experience, maneuvered around the cracks as she continued to pelt it with arrows.
Illya smiled, seeing her arrows had the desired effect. She watched the dragon fly into a sweeping dive, aiming its sharp talons at her comparatively diminutive form. The bow vanished from her hands as she summoned a lance. Its form was odd, looking like ribbons of cosmic energy wrapped together to form a thin, spiral lance. On the other hand, a carapace shell shield that carried the same color as the bow appeared.
Neither fear nor hatred slowed her steps. She didn't know what this thing was, but with its rancor, it surely caused problems for a great number of people. Without wisdom, putting it down was a necessity.
As it barreled toward her, she dodged to the side at the last minute, bracing herself as she landed. With firm footing, she held the lance at an angle, allowing it to tear into the dragon's hide as it passed. Blood erupted from the wound as her lance found its mark. Yet, she derived no pleasure from it. The putrid stench of tainted blood flooded her nose, hinting strongly that something was terribly wrong with the dragon before her. Despite the putrid evidence of its vulnerability, it hadn't been a deep wound. It'd just been a test of its hide; a successful one.
'Surprisingly fragile for a dragon… and stupid.' she thought.
*Roooaaaarrr!!!!!* An agonized cry ripped through the surrounding landscape, increasing the potency of the winds tenfold.
Illya was unphased though. It was in a frenzy and with her lance's effectiveness confirmed, she would make the next blow her last. If it was stupid enough to meet her in close combat with such a weak hide, she didn't have any doubt that slaying it would be easy.
Had it been of sound mind, this would likely have been much harder. She could picture a coordinated strike of those wind bombs that fissured the ground, while it leveraged the energy powering the tornadoes to craft a multi-layered wind wall powerful enough to intercept her arrows. She could see it now. This fight shouldn't have been this easy. It should've developed many more strategies to compensate for its more fragile hide. IT SHOULD'VE BEEN SO MUCH MORE EXCITING… and yet…
Her expression hardened as she leaned forward, ready to make the leap to deliver her final strike.
'STOP! Please let him go!!' a young, androgynous voice pleaded in her mind.
She hesitated, giving the beast long enough to regather its diminished wits. Where there used to be venom and vitriol in its azure eyes, fear rushed in like water to a damaged hull. Its instincts raged for it to escape, to pull itself out of death's voracious clutches. And it complied, shooting high into the skies with a single, mighty flap of its wings.
Illya sighed mournfully as it carried its injured form away. Despite the few arrows that'd lodged themselves in its wings, the dragon seemed to overcome the pain and flew off without missing a beat. She couldn't catch it now. Even if she could fly; she couldn't fly anywhere near as fast as a dragon of wind.
"Hmm?" She questioned, noticing the blood cease to flow from its side. "It can seal up wounds that fast…?"
Suddenly though, she felt herself pulled by a powerful, but controlled gust of wind. Unlike the subsiding winds that'd rampaged in the beast's presence, these were gentle and clearly directed by divine purpose.
'We're waiting for you further ahead, outside of Dvalin's lair. Please, follow the wind. I'll explain everything when you arrive.' The voice requested.
Illya hesitated, unsure whether to comply or to pursue the original quarry of her descent, the lingering resentment she felt hibernating beneath these ruins. Ultimately though, she conceded. A wise predator never rushed. Time would ferment this hunt. Only then could she truly savor its flavor.
-
Far away from the site of the battle, outside of the storm-walled lair, five figures stared at the battle site with mixed emotions.
The first was a golden-haired boy wearing an odd brown outfit consisting of a breast plate that exposed his midriff and black hakama-like pants. This was accented by a long gold-encrusted white scarf on the front and a two-tailed version on the back. His hair was styled in a long braid with two white feathers attached at the tip.
He was accompanied by a white-haired fairy-like creature, wearing a long-sleeved white jumper and a night-blue cape flecked with stars, and white stockings with white boots. Rose-gold embroidery and shapes are attached to her jumper, boots, and sleeves.
The third was an older-looking woman whose blond hair was tied back into a high ponytail. She wore an elaborate ensemble that suggested a high status in a military organization. A cyan jeweled ornament hung off her belt.
The fourth was a young fiery-haired man. Between his demeanor and clothing, everything about him screamed a mix of 'brooding noble' and 'dark knight'. Additionally, like the woman, he wore a jewel attached to his belt. Though, rather than cyan, his was a fiery red.
The four surrounded a youthful bard with an androgynous appearance. He wore a frilly white top with a corset for the midsection, along with green shorts with gold embroidery, a matching green cape held together by a deep blue and gold bow. Like the girl, he wore a cyan ornament on his belt, though if one were to look closely, it lacked a certain… something that the other two's had.
The quintet had heard the mournful wails of the beast who'd recently pledged to destroy them. Its baleful venom threatened the safety of their home, prompting this mission to stop him. Yet, they didn't hope for his destruction; they sought to save him from himself, from the wounds he'd sustained in their service all those years ago.
And yet…
"What do you mean Storm- I mean Dvalin was wounded!? Who could've done that!?" asked the small white pixie, floating anxiously next to her golden-haired companion.
"Is it the Fatui?" The crimson-haired man asked the bard, his tone laced with subtle aggression.
"Doubtful; all their agents of note are accounted for within Mondstat's walls. There shouldn't be anyone else of their ranks within our borders capable of dealing such quick damage to him." The blonde officer calmly refuted.
The bard shook his head. "It's not them. I'm not familiar with their current state of affairs, but I know it's not them."
"But how would you know that, Tone-Deaf Bard? You didn't even know what the name 'Storm Terror' was, and it was in your own nation." The pixie bluntly asked, earning a weak glare from the bard.
"I know…" he paused, letting his voice trail off for dramatic effect. "…because I watched her fall from the sky. Just like our golden-haired friend here, that one just arrived in our world."
"""What!!??""" They all cried out.
As if he didn't hear them, the bard continued, "I've been tracking them since they entered Mondstadt's skies, so I'd know. Their landing spot was Dvalin's lair."
"Then they probably mistook him for a viscous dragon. With his maddened state and distaste for communication, it's not an unreasonable conclusion." The blond officer immediately concluded.
The golden-haired boy with them now was an outlander and their youngest knight was the scion of a powerful sorceress who frequently traveled worlds; she was more than used to the concept.
"Without the facts we have now, I'd have done the same thing." The crimson-haired man affirmed.
"Hey! Is Paimon the only one who's freaked out by another outlander!?" The pixie angrily questioned, stomping her foot on empty air.
Her golden-haired companion chimed in, "Is it that strange?"
"Of course it-"
"Maybe. We've had a few outlanders travel through Mondstadt. It's a point of caution to be sure, but it's not a reason to assume the worst." Jean shrugged without too much attention. "But back to the issue at hand, what's going on with them Lord B – I mean Venti?"
The others, forcing down their questions, also turned to the unusually quiet wind deity.
"I'm leading them here as we speak. Felt it was best to regroup with our new friend, lest they truly slay our tormented friend." The bard explained, getting nods from the four.