Mondstadt's streets buzzed with the hum of daily life, oblivious to the storm brewing beyond its stone walls as dusk cast long shadows over the cobblestones.
Ye Ruo had been the intended sentinel of this quiet calm, his wind-woven senses poised to track the rising chaos of the Wind Dragon and the Fools' encroaching schemes.
Yet Rosalia, the ice-veiled shadow with a killer's edge, emerged as the unexpected linchpin of his vigilance, her loyalty a blade honed by a past he'd rewritten.
Her world—etched in frost and blood, a stark contrast to his light—trembled as the Lady's arrival and Teostra's rage pulled them deeper into Mondstadt's unfolding fate.
The city gate loomed ahead, its arches bathed in the fading gold of sunset, the wind carrying the faint scent of dandelions and pine.
Ye Ruo stood before his home, a modest stone house tucked near the plaza, its wooden door weathered by years of breezes.
His wind-woven cloak fluttered, the Anemo Vision at his chest pulsing with the day's restless currents.
Rosalia melted from the wall's shadow, her dark nun's habit stark against the pale stone, her Cryo Vision glinting like a frozen tear.
Her boots clicked—fishnet stockings flashed beneath her hem, a killer's grace in every step.
"Fools—Lady's here," she said, voice cold as a winter gale.
Her dark circles deepened—overtime etched her scowl.
Ye Ruo's brow arched—"Lady—not Doctor?" he mused.
Disappointment flickered—old grudges stirred.
"Thanks—stay sharp," he replied, tone firm.
"Executives—strong, keep distance," he warned.
Rosalia snorted—"Trouble—always," she muttered.
Her icy gaze met his—trust unspoken.
"Don't drag me—Barbato's child," she quipped.
Ye Ruo sighed—"Barbatos—again?" he groaned.
Her smirk flashed—then she vanished, wind rippling.
He rubbed his temples—her quirks endured.
The system chimed in his mind—panel flared.
He grinned—readers' gains sparked warmth.
[Customer Diluc completed Old Mond: Darkflame Reckoning—Reward: Pyroshade Cloak.]
[Pyroshade Cloak: Enwraps the user in a smoldering Pyro veil, burning foes with shadowed heat; summons fleeting flames to strike or shroud; can unleash a blazing burst, fierce as night's wrath.]
Diluc with fire—vengeance glowed hotter.
Rosalia's past lingered—mountain-born, thief-raised.
Ye Ruo had razed her captors—young, relentless.
Falga sent her to church—light to cleanse her.
She chose shadow—his blade, his will.
"Where I shine—she cuts," he murmured.
Her Cryo flared—ice matched his wind.
A bond forged—light and shadow entwined.
Mondstadt stirred—wind shifted, heavy with malice.
Teostra woke—East Wind Dragon, poisoned, wild.
Its roar rumbled—gales tore at the plains.
Poisoned blood raged—gold's dark craft twisted it.
Ruins called—Lone King's tower, tyrant's grave.
Wendy paused—lyre stilled, tavern hushed.
"Teostra—hurt," he whispered, eyes soft.
He slipped out—green wind trailed, bard gone.
Fools watched—Lady smirked in shadow.
"Dragon—Barbatos follows," she purred.
Her voice dripped pride—God's Heart gleamed.
"Harp—church's key," she mused, scheming.
Ye Ruo felt it—wind scratched, raw.
"Dragon's up—chaos brews," he noted.
He climbed—roof gained, city sprawled.
Teostra soared—wings beat, storm swelled.
Knights rallied—Kaeya's tigers growled.
"Archers—fire!" he barked, ice flared.
Arrows sang—wind twisted, dragon veered.
Ye Ruo's bow bloomed—cyan arrows pierced.
"Down—hold it!" he shouted, gusts howled.
Teostra wailed—poison streaked, faltered.
Rosalia leapt—ice spears lashed, pinned.
"Fools watch—Lady moves," she hissed.
Wendy landed—lyre strummed, wind soothed.
"Late—oops," he chirped, grin faint.
Teostra stilled—rage ebbed, eyes dimmed.
Crowds cheered—knights eased, breathless.
Ye Ruo glared—"Lady—next," he warned.
Wendy's gaze darkened—"Traveler—close," he said.
A blonde gleam flashed—Paimon bobbed afar.
Rosalia's voice cut—"Snezhnaya—active," she noted.
A subplot brewed—Lady's spies crept.
"Church—harp's target," Ye Ruo guessed.
Her nod confirmed—ice gleamed, ready.
"Shadow strikes—your call," she said.
He smirked—"Light leads—you follow," he replied.
Her laugh rasped—"Always—saved me," she murmured.
Mondstadt pulsed—undercurrents surged.
Ye Ruo descended—home's warmth beckoned.
Books stacked—third volume gleamed, Pupils of the Gu King.
"Lisa's copy—due," he mused.
A twist loomed—Lady's cloak rustled near.
Cathedral loomed—harp glowed, unguarded.
Fools slipped in—nun screamed, chaos sparked.
Ye Ruo dashed—wind surged, streets blurred.
Rosalia trailed—ice flared, shadow swift.
Lady stood—elegant, cruel, Hydro pulsed.
"Harp—mine," she sneered, hand raised.
Ye Ruo's gale roared—wind blades clashed.
Water whipped—ice met Hydro, frost spread.
"Light—bright," she taunted, dodging.
"Shadow—sharp," Rosalia growled, striking.
Lady spun—water cage bloomed, trapped.
Ye Ruo's bow sang—arrows shredded, cage broke.
Rosalia lunged—ice spear grazed, blood dripped.
"Fool—flee," Ye Ruo barked, wind pinned.
Lady laughed—"Heart—soon," she vowed.
She vanished—water splashed, gone.
Harp stood—safe, divine hum lingered.
Ye Ruo panted—"Close—too close," he muttered.
Rosalia's gaze softened—"Saved—again," she said.
Her hand brushed his—ice warmed briefly.
"Light—shadow," he grinned, bond firm.
Mondstadt sighed—dragon slept, Fools stalled.
The system pulsed—Ye Ruo's fame a rising storm.
His tale spun—Teyvat's gears turned wild.
***
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