Chapter Text

C6: Trouble

Cats have always been sensitive to the presence of others—especially when it comes to unfamiliar people or places. Their senses are perpetually dialed up to ten.

So, it’s no surprise that On and Hong immediately sensed the piercing eyes fixed on a certain red-haired Young Master, Cale Henituse. These stares weren’t the usual curious or mocking glances. No, they were more probing, more inquisitive. Fortunately, they weren’t sinister or hostile enough to warrant bloodshed from the children.

The first time they encountered these unsettling looks was in Puzzle City—from a priestess they later came to know as Cage. It began with a look of shock, followed by a contemplative expression.

When they left Puzzle City, the cats assumed that would be the end of it—but they were wrong.

The scrutiny intensified.

Cage began trailing Cale, her eyes carefully observing everything—from the tips of his red hair to his toes, from his belongings to everyone around him. She examined it all. And she wasn’t the only one.

On and Hong, now joined by a Black Dragon, noticed a pattern: all these suspicious stares came from devotees of the God of Death.

Their fur bristling and the dragon’s mana fluctuating, the children grew wary of anything related to the God of Death. If Cale cursed Death, they would curse Death three times over. If Cale scammed Death, they’d eagerly join in.

No one messes with their human—not on their watch. Not with the children standing guard.

[Days later after the Plaza Terror Incident, whispers of ‘Not him,’ surround Cale accompanying the rumors of a ‘Young Master Silver Light.’

And that's the last of the scrutinizing eyes following Cale Henituse.]

“Did you hear? The trash of the Henituse just saved the people at the capital of the Roan Kingdom."

“You sure it’s ‘that’ young master? I find it hard to believe!”

“He’s like an angel! He looks so divine, I heard!”

“The young master? The same young master who throws wine bottles at their people?”

The crowd gossiped about the peculiar event that happened days ago in the Roan Kingdom. It was during a royal festival, the celebration of the 50th birthday of King Zed Crossman, that an incident happened within the plaza where the main event took place. 

The day started peacefully. The nobles from various territories came and a lot of commoners also watched the celebration from afar. The only commotion that happened before the celebration started was the miracle that happened to Taylor Stan, a known noble heir that was forced out of the position due to the paralysis of the lower half of the body.

However, the day didn't stay peaceful.

The moment the clock strikes at 9:00, chaos ensues. 

A person with black attire and a mask appeared on top of the Bell Tower, and then more people in black attires started to appear on top of the buildings nearby as well. The people panicked and it became chaotic. 

At 9:10, there was a large explosion.

Thankfully, the explosion happened far away from the crowd of people. Nobody knows who threw the bombs away before they even exploded but they are thankful.

That’s not the end of it.

The next thing happened within seconds. No one had a chance to do anything.

Two persons also appeared wearing black and each had backpacks.

They were bombs.

One of the two rushed towards the royal family while the other rushed towards the nobles. Everything happened in less than 10 seconds that no one had the time to even react. Every person can only watch with dread.

But they didn’t die.

It was said that there’s this young noble, ‘a trash’ they said, who used his hidden power to protect the people from the explosion.

A silver shield with large wings swallowed the bomber, saving everyone around the young noble from the explosion.

Nobody expected to still be alive.

Nobody expected to be saved by the one they were avoiding.

Nobody expected to be saved by the trash of the Count’s family, Cale Henituse.

He created a shield radiating a silver light. It was so holy that many presumed that the Gods took a liking to him and gave him that power. However, that rumour was debunked as he revealed it’s an ancient power. A hidden power that only few can get, and rarely be seen.

After that, he coughed out blood and left bleeding, they said. 

The terrorism caused an uproar but people, especially the nobles, were more focused on the fact that a trash like him has that kind of power. Thus, rumors about the trashy young master spread faster than the Plaza Terror Incident.

Tch. Human nature, really.

A hooded figure bypassed the gossiping group and walked through the crowd of people. Nobody paid attention to the mysterious person as they skillfully made their way to their destination. The hooded man’s movement was swift and agile as they dodge and duck to avoid bumping against the group of people.

They’re in a market near the outskirts of the Whipper Kingdom.

There’s a lot of people around that makes it look lively from the outsiders point of view, but as someone in the crowd, the tension is heavy.

A war is about to happen and it may happen anytime. When? No one knows. The tension is just there.

“I’ll have two dozen apples please.”

“That’ll be  …”

He paid the vendor and continued to walk around.

The hooded man disregarded the tension, but didn’t lower their guard down. Being tense will make him suspicious, and relaxing will even make him more suspicious. He has to act like someone who was used to the tension. Someone who was living with this kind of tension.

‘That won’t be too hard,’ Diluc thought, making his way through the market. ‘Being around with Kaeya means tension with a sprinkle of guilt and awkwardness. And as someone who’s working with Kaeya all the time, this tense atmosphere can be easily shrugged off.’

Diluc is good at blending in this kind of place. He was used to being in situations like this.

‘Like staying in Snezhnaya while being hunted by the people of Snezhnaya,’ reminisced Diluc. That wasn’t even amusing at that time but thinking about it now, Diluc can see the absurdity of the situation. 

We don’t speak about his idiocy and stupidity in decision-making, landing him in those kinds of situations.

‘Thinking about the past doesn’t hurt that much anymore,’ Diluc realized as he dodge a box lifted by a person. ‘Though, I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.’  

[“Whatever life you had, it’s gone the moment you died.”

“You are given another life, not to waste it on the past, but for you to live in the present.”]

Diluc can’t help but sigh. The Ancient Dragon is too much for his fragile mental state.

Speaking of Erhaben, ‘Well,’ Diluc thought of something, ‘he’s too much at everything, I guess.’

A few weeks ago, Diluc noticed that the dragon never really buys food from, at Erhaben’s choice of words, greedy humans.

‘Like he’s not hoarding a hefty amount of gold in his lair,’ Diluc wanted to snark back but didn't as the dragon gave him a knowing look. He really hates that dragon's knowing look. It made him look stupid, which clearly, Diluc isn’t.

Well, he did know nothing sometimes but that doesn’t mean he’s an idiot or something.

Due to the argument regarding food, Diluc offered to buy things from the ‘human’ market.

Without even giving it a single thought, the dragon shut the idea down. He even gave a lot of reasons like:

“It’s dangerous. You still can’t fully blend in with human society.” 

“I’m also a human.”

“You still can’t speak this world’s common language.”

“I have my Vision.”

“Your chick is still feeding from your fire. You can’t just leave him alone here nor bring him out.”

“Then, I’ll leave him behind with my Vision, putting a small amount of fire he can feed on while I’m away.”

“Without your Vision, you can’t converse with other people.”

“I’ll learn.” 

The last one was the reason why traveling was delayed for a month. Diluc won’t easily surrender and back down from his decision so Erhaben had no choice but to teach Diluc the basic language skills used in the market like trading and stuff.

For the past few days, Diluc’s language class focused more on most market and trading conversations. His fluency is almost as good as the natives. The only problem is his daily conversation skills may be a little bit lacking due to the lesson’s change of focus.

The Ancient Dragon was actually grumbling and ranting at the little phoenix when Diluc left the lair. 

It’s weird to see Erhaben so protective and, excuse his language, caring. 

Urgh . 

Diluc can feel his hair rise at that thought. 

Goodness, he’s just a human (phoenix). Leave him out of the dragon’s hoard!

Now, here is Diluc buying groceries in a market of a kingdom full of tension with rumors of war that was about to happen. They’re already fighting as what the redhead knows, but Diluc doesn’t really care about the details. Semantics.

Let him problem over the groceries before thinking about a kingdom’s problems.

‘Grapes, apples, hmm… yes fruits are done. Vegetables, meat, fish, eggs… Foods. Check. Let’s see. Clothes, here.’ Diluc mentally marks the checklist he had made.

The lair was devoid of any food aside from the occasional tea leaves here and there. Diluc’s still wondering what the Dragon was eating before he came to stay with him. Where did he even get his food from if he’s not buying from the market?

Aside from that elf, no one knows where Erhaben procures his food. A mystery, one that Diluc doesn’t care about. He’s just musing on weird things lately.

“That costs 10 silver coins.” Diluc paid the exact amount and moved onto the next stall. 

Diluc still doesn’t have his own money so Erhaben gave him some gold coins he can use to buy the things he needed. 

‘Some’ is underestimating the amount. 

The Dragon basically just scooped out the gold coins from his ‘Mountain of Golden Coins’, and gave the spatial storage bag to the redhead without any care. 

This is why rich people were hated. Looking at that pile of money being disregarded in a corner, one would cry in poverty. Diluc never felt so poor when he was given gold coins seen as a decorative piece. It’s not even given importance like an expensive decoration but more of a ‘scrap’.

This made Diluc think, ‘Should he start searching for a job to earn his own money?’  

He feels a little uneasy to use the money only given to him without working for it. True, he was born in a noble household but he was taught not to take the kindness of others for granted. Even when he was the Master and owner of the Dawn Winery, he still helped his workers with the wine making and the bartending.

‘To have something, work for it,’ is what was taught to him. 

It didn’t help that he was also freeloading in the dragon’s lair.

He can start his own winery business, but that’ll take so much time. Maybe he should start small?

Or, maybe he can work as a bartender? 

Hm. 

An interesting idea but the problem is…where can he find such opportunity? 

Hmm…

He should ask Erhaben for a place known for their wines. That’ll be a good place to start.

After mentally taking note, Diluc continued checking his list of groceries.

‘Additional blankets for the nest, already here. Though, I wonder why we need to make a nest?’ Diluc ponders the absurd request of nest-making, and surprisingly, the little phoenix agrees to the dragon. 

The hatchling had been colluding with the dragon lately. It’s suspicious. 

‘But, why a nest?’ Diluc’s really curious.

It made him think of his so-called bed. A pile of blankets and pillows stacked together in a corner of a room. Is that what the blankets would be? Was a nest supposed to be the ‘bed’?

He was busy thinking of the answer that he didn’t notice the scrutinizing look of another cloaked individual. 

Said cloaked person watches the redhead then whispers something to the woman beside him, making the woman also look in the direction of the preoccupied redhead. The woman looked shocked and whispered something back to the cloaked person. Then, the cloaked person silently slipped away while the woman turned around to talk to another person near her and pointed where the redhead was.

All of this happened without the redhead noticing.

As Diluc noted that he bought everything he needed, he changed the course of his direction towards the exit of the market, about to leave. 

It’s a long way back and there is a chance that he’ll have to sleep outside. From what he can discern from the location of the sun and color of the sky, it’s about 4 o’clock and the sun is beginning to set.

Diluc didn’t want to stay in any inn anywhere in this place so camping outside, it is.

‘Aside from avoiding this place’s tension,’ Diluc thought, making his way out of the market, ‘someone’s waiting for my return.’

‘At home,’ was left unspoken.

Diluc doesn’t want to say nor admit it. He’s wary to attach his self in this world, and it won’t change anytime soon. He’s scared that everything he would come to care in this world will also disappear. Or worse, be destroyed by his own hand, again. 

He had loved too many times and lost them too many times.

(You destroyed everything again).

Diluc sighs and shakes away the slowly darkening thoughts. He doesn't need any of that depressive bullshit anymore. He had enough of that more than a month ago.

As he swiftly makes his way out, a hand suddenly reaches out from behind him pulling off his hood, showing his vibrant red hair. The shadow paused, and before Diluc could even react, it disappeared after whispering something.

Diluc curses his own inattentiveness and tries to hide his hair once again - a warning Erhaben reminded him before going out. For unknown reasons, the dragon reminds him to hide his identity as much as possible, and Diluc agrees. 

Danger creeps behind the shadows that even Diluc, hidden away in the dragon’s lair, could sense. An ability to sense irregularities - something he gained when he gained the power of a phoenix.

However, it was too late. 

The crowd saw him. They saw his striking fiery hair. 

Whispers rouse and people become vigilant.

Thinking of the rumors of a certain red haired Young Master, the people around have mixed feelings. One, the power used saving the people in the plaza was magic, and two, the red haired Young Master was not a mage but have an Ancient Power.

Most of the people around are actually in the non-mage faction that abhors the use of magic. But from what they heard, the Young Master used magic to save people from the explosion. 

It was reluctance that made them look at each other and just stand. The people are confused about what to do. 

Catch the red haired individual or let him go?

“But, he isn’t a mage, right? He used an Ancient Power, didn’t he?” - is what people confirm whenever they hear the rumour.

Thus, they really put the person on a test.

[No one thought that they got the wrong person. No one saw the real Cale Henituse and only heard his name, so seeing someone with similarities to the infamous trash, they would think any red haired individual with the grace of a noble is Cale Henituse himself.]

Unknowing to the imminent trouble, Diluc continues to push through the crowd, wanting to leave. But before he could even walk further, a child suddenly jumped out of nowhere, and grabbed at Diluc’s robe, pulling it, trying to get his attention.

“Brother! Brother! Can I have food, please! I want it! I’m hungry!” Like a spoiled young brat, the girl made a fuss. “I also want to have that apple! I saw you buying it!”

Who’s child is this? Diluc looked around trying to find the kid’s guardian. He’s not good at dealing with kids and nobody would want him to deal with kids. There is a reason why Klee didn’t like him.

“This young man, just give her what she wants.”

With the start of the woman’s voice, the others soon follow.

“She’s just a girl. Pity on her.”

“Young people nowadays, so selfish.”

“Why isn’t he doing anything? Is he discriminating against non-mages?”

Diluc never bothered to look at the people around him whose whispers were starting to increase. He just stares at the child who looks at him innocently and continues to pull his robe.

He fell silent, contemplating something. Then, crouched down to level the child’s height.

Diluc didn’t miss the child’s flinch and the crowd’s vigilance.

As expected.

However, contrary to what the people had been expecting, the red haired young man didn’t show any annoyance or irritation. Instead, he gave the girl an apple and a gold coin with his usual deadpan look.

The kid’s action wasn’t the thing that ticked him off so there is no use being angry at a child who only follows the order. 

What annoys him is what the fucking hell those people are thinking by using a literal child in their schemes?!

The crowd went silent as piercing eyes sweeps past, covering their vigilance against him by talking about various topics to their companions. 

Diluc inwardly sighs.

Some things never really change.

Like what he said earlier, this situation is a bit similar to what he had experienced in the nation of the Cryo Archon. Such things…happened as it was in the past.

“AHHH HELP!!! THIEF!!!”

A scream of help snapped Diluc out of his thoughts, as a little boy was sent flying by a running man he was just hanging on. 

Diluc, who was used to the dangers of the war, didn’t register what was happening before his motor skills just kicked in and immediately ran towards the direction the boy was about to crash into while dodging the crowd.

Somehow, the annoying girl from before climbed behind his back and the crowd, for some reason, lessened.

He noticed the strangeness but disregarded it, too focused on the child he just caught in his arms. Both children’s arms were around Diluc’s neck as they clung to him tightly. 

Diluc curses, of course, in his mind. Problem after problem! Was peace even real at this point?!

“You okay?” He tried to check on the boy despite the imperfect enunciation of words. Communication skills be damned, he has to assess the kid’s condition.

But who would have thought that caring would choke him back-to-back with the boy hanging in front of him and the girl behind.

…In a bout of inattentiveness…he’s been cornered by these damn kids.

(A voice that suspiciously sounds like an annoying Cryo user mocks him, saying, “Like I said, Master Diluc is a softie towards children. You see, he can fight in thousands of  wars but can never win against a single child.”)

Damn you, Kaeya. Diluc’s face darkens as he pats the boy’s back.

“My necklace! The thief took my mother’s necklace!” the child wailed once more, and let go one arm from Diluc’s neck to point at the direction where the thief ran off urging the young man to chase after the thief.

Haa…

Diluc secretly exhales silently, thankful to breathe again. But promptly inhales sharply upon hearing the boy’s words.

Damn it.

He then turned his attention to where the thief had run off to. The people around just stand, staring warily and talking to each other about the commotion happening.

‘No one stopped the thief,’ is the second thing Diluc took notice of.

“I get him. Stay here?”

“NO!” the child shouted and clung to him tightly. Choking him, again. 

While the child on his back bounces excitedly. “Are we playing?!”

Guhk!

At this point, Diluc won’t be surprised if he somehow lost his ability to hear from the way these kids keep on wailing and shouting at his ears. Also, let him breathe please.

I still want to live.

Isn’t that just surprising? 

The redhead can only sigh, unable to do anything else, as the boy shakes his head aggressively and wails louder right near his ears, and the girl tightens and shakes his neck, urging him to ‘ play’ . 

Diluc was once wondering why Klee and the other children seem to be wary and avoid him but now he’s not opposed to that.

Please let me be free from these demon’s spawns.

[Be grumpy again. It’s a good child repellent.]

Contradicting his thoughts, Diluc tightly held the child in his arms and supported the one behind his back as he stood up and stretched his feet, preparing for the chasing that was about to happen.

“Hold tight,” was the only warning the children got and Diluc sprinted after the thief.

“WAAHH!!!” “WOOHOO!!!”

Two shouts ring on both of his ears but Diluc doesn't stop and continues to run after the thief. He occasionally uses his elemental sight for any clue he can get but it seems that the thief isn’t using any magic or elemental energy. Not that he expects them to use something only few can use and the reason for the unease of this place.

Turning around a corner, a commotion up ahead indicates that the thief just passed by the street. With how empty the center of the street was, it was easy to spot the thief. 

Diluc increased his speed and eventually caught up with the thief.

He ran around Teyvat with a fucking claymore on his back for so many years. Carrying these tiny gremlins aren't going to slow him down.

The people around them just watched.

The thief, who was breathing harshly and looking like he’s about to faint from all the running, looked back. A mistake on his part as he saw something that’ll give him nightmares for years. 

The sight greeted him was a fucking demon with fucking red eyes and fucking flaming hair looking like a devil leading him in a place somewhere 6-feet underground. 

He swears it’s a demon from fucking hell. It’s on fire, has that scathing glare, and all of that shit.

Mother, I’m scared. 

The thief can only tear up as the said demon bypassed him and blocked his way.

Mother, I’m dead.

With no time to stop, he closes his eyes and waits for the inevitable pain he was about to feel upon seeing the stretch of the redhead arms. However, opposing the thief’s wild thoughts, the devil reincarnate only leveled him a glare and caught him by the scruff of his neck.

Sniff.

The thief wants to cry.

And Diluc wants to punch the thief.

But no one did those things. 

Seeing the thief close to tears made Diluc reevaluate his thoughts. 

‘Are the thieves in this place this cowardly?’ Diluc is seriously curious. The thief’s reaction made Diluc feel like he’s somehow in the wrong. 

Like he bullied some harmless pigeon.

No. He’s not that evil .

It’s suspicious. He looks around and sure enough, the people only stare.

“My necklace!” The boy happily climbed down the redhead and went to the thief Diluc was holding up. The thief continues to sniffle and shake, and let out a weak apology to the child as he hands over the necklace he was holding in his hand.

Diluc narrowed his eyes at this.

So suspicious.

“Thank you Mister! You can let go of Mister Thief now!” 

Diluc disregards the, ‘Aww…are we done playing?’ behind his back and just scrutinize both boy and thief.

These schemes…what’s their purpose?

The first one is rather annoying while the second one is forceful. Is it the last or they’ll complete it with a third?

Like having an angel’s tongue, his senses scream.

DANGER!

Before anyone could even react, the redhead tightened his hold on the thief with his one arm while grabbing the boy on his other arm, then jumped back as far as he could. He almost forgot about the other child on his back if not for her tightening her hold on his neck. 

BOOM!

“KYAAHH!”

“Fire! Put out the fire!”

A second too late, they would be ashes by now. 

A fireball was thrown in their direction and its explosion was destructive enough to leave scorch marks on the ground. Thankfully, the crowd wasn’t too close and some were only burned a little.

Still, Diluc narrowed his eyes on the direction where the fireball came from, the attack wasn’t aimed at him…

…The target was the thief . 

Was it planned or…

Said thief is now full of snot and tears while mumbling, ‘Mother, help, devil’ repeatedly.

“A MAGE! RUN!!”

“Catch them!”

“Kill ‘em!”

A riot started. 

The once vigilant people were now ready to attack their prey, but that prey was not Diluc. It was a mage.

Diluc curses.

He throws the ‘burdens’ aside as the magical attacks start. Some run away while some run towards the attacks. However, Diluc didn’t follow any sides and ran towards a certain direction.

He jumps, he dodges, and he defends - Diluc isn’t stopping and people start to notice his actions. They were astonished. 

This agility and flexibility…is not something they could see on mages. People start to think, ‘Is it really an ancient power? Or is he also in the non-mage faction?’ 

[But no one even wondered, ‘Was it really Cale Henituse? ’]

As people run, a woman stumbled, her foot twisting sharply as she fell onto the hard ground. Pain shot through her ankle, sharp and relentless. 

She tried to rise, but her leg refused to support her weight. Around her, the chaos of battle raged on—people ran, shouted, and fought. No one stopped. 

No one noticed her predicament.

Desperation crept into her eyes, dulling the flicker of hope that still lingered. She scanned the crowd, praying for a helping hand.

No one came.

Her heart sank. The sounds of battle grew louder, and then she saw it: a fireball, hurtling toward her. Its fiery light reflected in her wide, unblinking eyes. 

Paralyzed by fear and pain, she could only close her eyes, bracing herself for the inevitable.

One second. The heat seared the air around her.

Two seconds. A burning sting spread across her skin.

Three seconds. The light blazed bright, even behind closed eyelids.

This is it, she thought. Resignation wrapped around her like a shroud.

Four seconds. Explosions erupted around her, a symphony of chaos.

Five seconds. A warm wind swept over her.

Six secon—

?

Her eyes snapped open. 

The heat was gone, replaced by a strange, comforting warmth. 

The sound of battle still thundered in the distance, but something had changed. She blinked, confusion giving way to astonishment.

What she saw stole her breath.

Under the blood-red sky, a figure stood tall, framed by the fading light. His hair, a brilliant shade of red, seemed to blaze like fire, each strand dancing in the wind. His robes billowed, fluttering like wings of flame. 

The young man turned, and his eyes met hers—sharp, intense, burning with a light that defied the gathering darkness.

The sight stirred something ancient within her. Words, passed down through generations, whispered in her mind:

‘They are light, they are fire,
A symbol of hearts that never tire.
Born from embers, fierce and bright,
A spark that defies the endless night.

They are hope, they are might,
Wings ablaze in their fearless flight.
From ruins, they rise, unbroken, bold,
Their story in flames, a tale retold.

Remember these words,
In the darkness, they gleam.
Embrace its song, respect its flame;
A soul reborn, never the same.

Their name is endless, fierce and strong,
The final whisper: a Phoenix’s song.’

A Phoenix.

The legend stood before her, not as myth, but as reality.

“T-thank you…” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper, as the young man helped her to her feet, guiding her to a group of rescuers. 

He lingered for a moment before he turned and walked back into the fray, his figure disappearing amidst the chaos.

As she was led to safety, the memory of what she had seen clung to her like a dream she couldn’t wake from. Her lips moved involuntarily, repeating the only words that made sense: “Red… fire… wings…”

The rescuers glanced at each other, puzzled by her quiet mutterings. To them, they were just words. But to her, they held the weight of legends—an ember of hope, born from fire.

Diluc kept running, his crimson hair catching the dying light, unaware of the legend being whispered into existence behind him. 

The city around him was in chaos—people fought invisible foes, magical attacks clashing in the air, yet no mages in sight. No one stopped or spared him a glance, too absorbed in their desperate search for their unseen enemy.

He slipped into a dark alley, shadows swallowing him whole. The chaos outside faded into muffled echoes.

Ahead, a child was cornered, eyes wide with fear.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t—I just—!” The boy’s voice trembled, defiance mingled with desperation.

Another one, Diluc thought, his heart sinking. It seemed this world was breeding children too brave for their own good, throwing themselves into battles they were too young to fight. 

Why were kids always the ones dragged into battles they weren’t supposed to be responsible for? He sighed inwardly.

The boy’s gaze locked onto him, eyes blazing with fear and anger. The look struck Diluc hard, a mirror of his past. It wasn’t a look that threatened others; it was the look of someone on the verge of self-destruction. 

A dangerous path he knew all too well.

[Diluc once saw a child with that same hatred— a bitterness not just towards the world, but towards his own powerlessness, his own weakness.

Diluc saw that red-haired child across the room where a cold mirror lay.

Diluc saw his own broken state.]

Shouts grew louder behind them, footsteps pounding closer.

“I can sense him there!”

“That mage is near! Search every corner!”

Diluc didn’t move, his eyes fixed on the boy, watching the emotions flicker across his face—anger, doubt, despair. Shoulders slumping, the child seemed to accept his fate. He looked ready to surrender, to let punishment come.

Revenge. Diluc saw it written all over the boy. The same burning need that had once driven him into darkness - the one that made him do unforgivable things to his family, friends, and people around him.

The one that tainted his hands with the blood of the innocents.

The boy saw the piercing red eyes of his captor and his hands trembled; it wasn’t just fear—it was the weight of guilt. He saw the knowing look his captor gave him, and guilt weighed heavily on his chest. 

One reckless moment, one surge of anger at his mother's killer, and now he was as good as dead.

Was it wrong to be born with mana? The question hung in the boy’s eyes. Was it wrong to live as a mage?

The boy looked at his captor with resignation. He had seen the red-haired man fight, and recognized the strength typical of the Whipper Kingdom’s non-mage faction. There was no doubt in his mind: the red-haired man was one of them, a hunter of mages.

In this camp of non-mage faction, what else should the boy expect?

[But it wasn’t a non-mage camp. It was a city bustling with various people - mages and non-mages alike.

Not until the rebellion came.]

The footsteps were almost upon them. 

The noise reached the alley’s entrance, and the boy’s eyes closed, bracing for the end.

Diluc saw the boy’s actions and in an instant, he made a choice. 

The rustle of cloth, a sharp swish—

Three men rounded the corner, weapons drawn.

“…No one’s here,” one of them muttered, scanning the empty alley.

“The presence was strong just a second ago. They must be nearby.”

“Probably ran off. Let’s check down that street.”

Their footsteps receded, fading into the distance. The echoes of battle grew fainter, the chaos moving away.

It was silent.

Until…

“They’re gone. Let the kid go now.”

A hooded man emerged from the shadows, his eyes fixed on the spot where the red-haired man and the child had vanished. If one looked closely, a faint ripple distorted the air—an illusion cloaking their presence.

The shimmer parted, revealing Diluc standing protectively over the boy. 

The robe he wore, woven with magic from his time in the dragon’s lair, had concealed them. He rarely used its enchantments—until now.

Thank Erhaben, we say.

The boy ran toward the hooded man as Diluc released him, his small figure trembling. The newcomer’s eyes narrowed, confusion etched across his face. 

Why had this stranger protected the boy, a mage, who had started all this chaos?

Diluc met the man’s questioning gaze with quiet resolve. He had no grand motives—just the simple, unshakable need to help a child. 

To help a child who he once had become.

A child who reminded him too much of himself, back when his own rage had torn apart friendships and left scars that still ached. He knew that dangerous fury and couldn’t bear to see it consume another.

Call it empathy. Diluc calls it redemption for his young self.

“Guide him prop’rly,” Diluc said, his voice low but firm. “A child shouldn't carry that kind of burd’n.”

The hooded man’s eyes flicked to the boy, then back to Diluc. He understood the weight of those words. Yet, the reality remained—the child had almost killed someone. 

That wasn’t something easily forgiven.

[Thankfully, the boy was taken away from the road Diluc had taken. Thankfully, the boy can still look at his hands without the feeling of guilt and disgust.]

“Run,” Diluc said, turning to the man and the child. His tone softened, but the authority in it was unmistakable. “Leave. Now.”

The mage hesitated for a moment, searching Diluc’s eyes for any deception. Finding none, he nodded and turned away, carrying the boy in his arms.

Diluc turned his back without a word, leaving the mages to their escape. He walked slowly, his figure fading into the shadows of the alleyway never looking back.

The boy, cradled in the mage's arms, glanced back. His wide eyes were filled with emotions too complex to name—awe, confusion, perhaps even a flicker of hope.

Meanwhile, Diluc continued his quiet exit, the dusk’s light stretching his shadow long across the cobblestones as he walked slowly out of the alleyway, his head bowed, lost in thought. 

Mages . With his current situation, the dragon proved to him that magic makes things easier and convenient, similar to the innovations of advanced nations back in Teyvat. 

If he wants to pursue his plan…

He needs a mage. 

Not Erhaben but another person who could help him with his plans without the interference of the dragon.

As he was thinking, he reached the mouth of the alleyway when suddenly, something felt off. An instinct, sharp and unrelenting, flared within him. 

!!!

Without hesitation, he bent his back as his senses blared for danger, sharp wind whizzing past his head just in time. 

Heart beating fast contrary to the slowing motions in his vision, Diluc curses his luck in his head for a second before lifting one leg up and pivoting on the other as he twists out of reach of the incoming kick. 

The foot missed its intended target and slammed into the ground with enough force to send dust flying.

Fuck . Diluc can’t help but curse, eyes widening at the sheer raw power from that foot alone.

One normal person would be disabled with that force but of course, people in this world are rarely normal.

Diluc staggered backward, muscles tensing, as he shifted his weight, raising his arms to guard against the follow-up blow. 

A massive fist followed, barreling toward his face like a wrecking ball. He leaned back just far enough for it to graze his chin, the force of the near-miss sending a shiver down his spine.  

Ah. Damn this world. Really.

His attacker wasn’t slowing down. Another blow came—a hammering downward strike aimed at his collarbone. 

Diluc crossed his arms in defense, absorbing the hit but nearly buckling under the force. He stumbled back, shaking the sting from his arms.  

Damn it, he thought. Who is this brute?!

Another blow—a knee, like a battering ram, struck toward his ribs. Diluc managed to twist just enough to lessen the impact. Pain lanced through his side anyway, the force sending him stumbling. 

His eyes flicked upward, noticing the man's long, messy brown hair, which resembled a lion's mane, before catching the man's amused grin.

He hates that grin, Diluc decided. Especially coming from this brute.

"You're quick," the said brute chuckled, eyes glinting with excitement. "But you're just running," he teased, his voice laced with playful mockery. "Come on—fight back!" and a hammering downward strike aimed at Diluc’s collarbone. 

Diluc gritted his teeth. He wiped the sweat from his brow and took a deep breath, red eyes glinting with hidden calculation. The man’s size was his advantage, but it also made him slower, more predictable, he analyzes and plans as he waits for the next move. 

If you lose with strength, then win with your brain.

A wide swing came from the left, and this time, the redhead ducked low, planting a sharp uppercut into the man’s ribs. His fist connected solidly, and the man grunted, stepping back. 

Diluc saw the attacker’s eyes widened in surprise, but wasn't mad or discouraged. Instead, the man’s mouth ticked upwards into a grin. 

Fucking crazy.

"That's more like it," the madman chuckled, eyes gleaming with an unsettling thrill.

A madman. Bloodthirsty and battle crazed maniac. In one way or another, Diluc was still being hunted in another world by someone similar to a certain harbinger. How lucky am I?

The similarities from the place to the atmosphere and the people. Now, a battle crazed madman…

With the season the only difference, is this the alternate version of Snezhnaya ?

A feint. A second feint. He sidestepped to the madman’s weak side, ducked low, and drove a fist toward the man’s injured ribs. The man, with his wild, lion-like mane of brown hair, twisted at the last moment, deflecting the blow with a forearm. 

Their eyes locked, and the madman’s grin widened, predatory and amused.

Damn you. Diluc cursed under his breath, springing back just out of reach. 

His heart pounded, each beat a reminder of the razor’s edge he balanced on. 

I can’t win in a straight fight. He knew it, accepted it. But winning outright wasn’t the plan. He didn’t need to overpower the brute—he just needed to outlast him, to spot the one mistake that would tip the scales.

The madman chuckled, eyes alight with challenge. He moved with the confidence of a predator who knew the hunt was his game.

Like a predator playing with its prey. 

Each lunge, each swipe, felt like he was testing Diluc’s limits, pushing him to see how long the redhead could dance before falling.

Not really a fight… It's more of a challenge. 

A test? Diluc furrows his brows at the familiar word. It happened several times now. 

Was this part of that test? Just a scheme once again?

He waved off the annoyance and focused on the current predicament. He’ll grumble about it later but not now.

Diluc’s gaze stayed sharp, tracking every muscle twitch, every shift in stance. Every move he made was measured, a calculated risk in a deadly game. He would keep evading, keep probing for weakness.

Diluc’s eyes never leave the madman’s predatory gaze. His opponent moved with a fluid, dangerous grace, each step deliberate, each motion a taunt. The man's wild, brown hair framed a grin that was all teeth—hungry and amused.

That grin again. Had he already said that he hates that grin? Because he fucking hates that grin.

A sudden lunge. 

The madman closed the distance in a heartbeat, a powerful fist swinging for Diluc’s head. Diluc twisted, narrowly avoiding the strike, feeling the rush of air as it passed. He countered with a swift jab, but the madman deflected it effortlessly, laughter rumbling from his chest.

“Is that all you’ve got?” the man teased, eyes gleaming. “You can do better.”

Diluc’s breath came in controlled, measured bursts. Stay calm. Watch. Wait. 

If only he could punch this lion’s face. 

Someday , Diluc promises to his self.

He launched a series of quick, probing strikes, each one testing for a weakness. The madman danced back, deflecting each blow with maddening ease, that damning grin never leaving his face.

Then, a shift. A misstep—small, almost imperceptible. 

Diluc saw it. 

And took the chance.

He feinted left, then drove his knee toward the man's abdomen. It connected, once again, making the other slide back a few inches. 

The madman with bowed head shakes, deep and rumbling chuckles turned into laughter. Raising his head, the opponent’s eyes sparkled with exhilaration.

“Good,” he breathed, stepping back and straightening. “Finally.”

Diluc's muscles tensed, ready for the next move. But the madman didn’t strike. He stood there, eyes locked on Diluc’s. 

For a moment, the tension hung thick in the air, neither man moving. 

They faced each other, sweat dripping, and in Diluc’s case, chest heaving. One had given everything, tested every limit, while the other stood steady and amused. 

The madman’s grin changed, a flicker of respect in his wild eyes.

“You’re strong. Why don't you join the rebellion?” the madman’s voice boomed, his lion-like mane of brown hair swaying as he grinned wildly.

“Toonka!” The sharp voice of another man pierced the tension. 

Diluc's eyes darted to the newcomer, a plain-looking man with brown hair and equally brown eyes. Despite his unassuming appearance, something about him screamed danger. Diluc’s instincts flared, his body coiling like a spring. He couldn’t afford to lower his guard—not after being ambushed moments ago.

But Toonka ignored his companion’s call, his eyes gleaming with predatory amusement. “You could be an instructor or fight at the frontier. What do you say?”

“That isn’t possible!” The plain man’s protest was brushed aside like an annoying insect.

Diluc narrowed his eyes. “After attacking me?”

Toonka snorted, the grin on his face stretching wider. “It's just a fight. Also…” His eyes sharpened, the grin turning vicious. “Think of it as payment for letting those rats go.”

Diluc’s breath caught. So, he knew about the mages . Silence stretched as Diluc felt the invisible noose tighten, danger prickling at the back of his neck.

“Just think about it,” Toonka pressed, voice dropping to a growl. “I'll let this matter go if you agree.”

The plain man stepped between them, his eyes weary but firm. “Since when did you become a recruiter? This matter isn’t for outsiders to butt in. He should leave.”

“That’s bullshit,” Toonka shot back. “The moment this little red let those mages go, he was already part of the fight.” He paused, then continued, “Just not on my side.”

Diluc leaned back, trying to put distance between himself and the inevitable storm. “Not joining either side. Just a co’ncidence that the mages escaped.” His voice wavered, and even he knew it wasn’t a strong defense. No one accepts such excuse, not even himself.

No one mentioned his broken words and foreign accent.

“No coincidence,” the plain man sneered. “A child almost killed those people back there. Isn’t that why you let them go?” His brown eyes glinted coldly. “You know, age isn’t an excuse to avoid responsibility. Accident or not.”

Diluc’s jaw tightened. “A one-sided view. Cause and effect—the child pulled in’ fight by who destroys innocent lives.”

“Innocent? You’re calling those vile mages ‘innocent’ ?” The man’s voice dripped with disdain. “Tell that to the ones trampled by mages seeking power. Tell that to those used as tools for experiments.”

Diluc’s blood ran cold. “Human… exper’ments…?”

[“-human experiments! Those people killed my father!”

“‘Those people’, those who are at fault, don't include the innocent! These people never did shit and just gave him the weapon, you know that! Those people are just your excuse to make yourself innocent! You are not as clean as you make yourself to be, Ragnvindr!”

“I never made myself as innocent as you make it out to be. You don't know what happened back then.”

“Don’t I really? I may not be there when tragedy struck for you but I was there when you cut that boy’s father just because he wears the insignia of the Fatui. I was there when you became the monster you oh-so-try to end!”

“You know what you've done. Your father died and in your revenge, you killed innocent people. You are no different from your father’s so-called murderers. And isn't that saying something, Master Diluc? You are one of them. People with blood stained hands trying to fool as someone righteous. As heroes.”

“Isn’t that what you are trying to be, Diluc Ragnvindr?”

You are a killer. A murderer. You don’t deserve the kindness you wish to receive.

“Why don’t you…’cure’ the weapon?”

“You have an interesting connection with Visions, young Ragnvindr. Something that might…help me achieve something impossible.”

So young. So pitiful. Falling in the hands of a mad scientist…is this your way to atone your sins?]

The words echoed in his mind, stirring a dark memory. 

A flash of a dimly lit room. The stench of metal and fear. A child’s scream, silenced too quickly. A monstrous figure in shadows, whispering promises of power and survival. Blood on stone. 

His hands—trembling, clenched.

Diluc fixed his gaze on the plain-looking man, his voice low but firm. “Fight whoe’ver you want. Just’ don’t dr’g in people…” Diluc tries to find the right words, “…who were just’ unlucky ‘nough born in wrong group’.” His words trembled slightly, but his spirit burned steady, defiant.

The man’s brown eyes narrowed, their plainness unable to mask the storm raging beneath. His brow furrowed, frustration carved deep into his expression. 

“Our people have suffered enough. We’ve seen too much to believe any mage could be innocent.” His voice held a sharp edge, each word carrying the weight of old wounds. “We were innocent once, too. Why should we show kindness when they’ve never shown it to us?”

Diluc’s heart pounded, each beat reverberating through his chest like a drum of war. 

He may not completely understand the words but the anger in the man’s voice was all too familiar, an echo of his own past mistakes. 

His mind spiraled back to a time when he had let his fury guide him—when justice had become a bitter excuse for vengeance. 

He had struck down innocents, blinded by grief and hatred, simply because they resembled his father’s killers.

The bitter memory clawed at him, a reminder of how easily the line between righteousness and revenge could blur. He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms, anchoring himself in the present.

“Then, we don’t ‘have anything to talk ‘bout,” Diluc said, his voice clipped, each word a stone wall against the rising storm. His eyes locked onto the man’s, a silent clash of wills.

The tension between them thickened, a taut silence filled with unspoken pain and hardened convictions. The tension hung thick in the air, the unspoken clash between Diluc and the plain-looking man simmering like an impending storm. 

Both stood rigid, eyes locked, breaths shallow.

Then, like a hammer smashing glass, Toonka’s voice crashed through the silence. “Are you done?” he barked, oblivious to the emotional undercurrents swirling around him. 

He scratched his head, frowning. “I don’t know what you two are talking about, but will you join us now?” His voice carried a tone of impatience, as if the whole conversation had been an annoying detour. “Some brats were saved, and I don’t have time to deal with them. I saw you with those small humans earlier—looks like you’re good at handling them.”

“Toonka!” The plain man’s voice was sharp, exasperation clear. “This isn’t the time—”

But Toonka was already charging ahead, waving off the reprimand with a dismissive hand. 

“Don’t you have people for that?” Diluc cut in, arms crossed, his eyebrow twitching.

Toonka grinned, unfazed. “We’re busy with the war,” he said as if stating the obvious, arms spread wide. “Everyone’s fighting. No time for babysitting.”

Diluc’s eyes narrowed. “So, you just need a baby…sitter?”

Toonka’s face lit up, his grin widening like a child who had just won an argument. “Then you agree?”

“No.” Diluc’s tone was flat, his expression unmoved, words perfectly pronounced like an expert. 

And he is a damn expert at saying ‘no’.

Toonka didn’t seem to hear the rejection. “What about—”

“No!” Diluc’s voice was sharper this time, cutting off whatever nonsense Toonka was about to say.

“Come on—”

“No!” Diluc turned on his heel, muttering under his breath. Without another word, he bolted, leaving Toonka blinking in confusion. 

See ? Perfectly an expert at saying ‘no’ .

“Hey! Wait!” Toonka shouted, starting after him, but the plain man grabbed his arm.

“Toonka, let him go!” The man sighed, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

Toonka’s brow furrowed. “What? Was it something I said?”

The plain man groaned, rubbing his temples. “You really don’t understand, do you?”

Toonka blinked, genuinely confused. “But… we still need someone for the brats.”

In the distance, Diluc was already gone, his figure disappearing around the corner, leaving Toonka’s clueless words echoing behind him.

Toonka and Harol stood in silence, watching the direction the redhead had disappeared into. The faint light of dusk painted the sky in soft hues of orange and red, a quiet contrast to the tension that had just dissipated.

“Too bad. I liked him.” Toonka touched the wound on his arm, a grin playing at the corner of his lips. He seemed to relish the sting, a reminder of the challenge the young man had given him. “He’s strong but acts weak. It’s weird that he’s not using his full strength but still has his ways.”

Harol Kodiang, Supreme Chief of the entire non-mage faction of the Whipper Kingdom, crossed his arms, giving Toonka an unamused look. His brown eyes narrowed slightly. “He’s an outsider. I don’t care how strong he is but he won’t fit in with us. Not to mention, he helped those mages escape.”

Toonka snorted, waving a hand dismissively. “Psh. I don’t care about that.” He sniffed the air, brow furrowing slightly. “But… he smells weird. Like something we don’t have. Hmm... it’s telling me we might need him.”

Harol raised an eyebrow. “I thought your nose was a ‘ strength radar,’ looking for strong people to brawl with. What’s this ‘something we need’ now?” 

Toonka scowled, rubbing the back of his head. “Bah! I don’t know. Better to use fists than waste time thinking about useless things.”

Harol rolled his eyes, a hint of a smirk breaking his usually serious demeanor. He muttered under his breath, “But you’re the one who started it…”

Toonka ignored the jab, stretching his arms as if warming up for another fight. “What’s the situation with the third group?” 

Harol’s expression grew contemplative. He studied Toonka for a moment, weighing his words before speaking. “They’re still searching. We’ve managed to rescue some, but... the rest are still out there. It’s going to take time.”

Toonka’s gaze hardened, a rare seriousness flickering in his eyes before he let out a long breath. He turned, starting to walk away, his footsteps heavy against the dirt road. Harol followed, their pace unhurried, the calm of dusk settling around them.

Harol glanced once more in the direction Diluc had gone, a thoughtful hum escaping him, before shaking his head and turning his attention forward. 

The world deepened with the fading light, shadows stretching as people slowly calmed down, mending their wounds and fixing broken things from the riot. 

A child was reprimanded by his fellow mages, a thief went crying to his mother, a hidden group slowly walked away with thoughts unknown, and a redhead stepped out the city’s borders.

Different people parted ways, unaware of the fate that would draw them together again. A fate neither could have foreseen, yet one that loomed quietly on the horizon.

In a certain palace of a certain kingdom, another redhead was found sleeping in a luxurious bedroom with the children after scamming a certain blond-haired prince, getting a golden plaque out the said prince’s pockets. The resting man sleeps peacefully without knowing that the rumour created by a certain knight about the ‘Young Master Silver Light’ and ‘Young Master Shield’ started circulating around kingdoms.

In a certain market of a certain kingdom, another rumour was spreading after the riot settled. From a leader lamenting the loss of a fighter, a thief crying about a devil, children whispering about angels, and a woman preaching about a legend - all made conjectures about the foreign redhead. The redhead of the rumour went home unknowing that the rumor about a ‘Dusk Angel’ or ‘Crimson Angel’ and a ‘Phoenix’ started circulating around kingdoms.

Let the redheads have this moment of peace.

And blame the God of Death later.

EXTRA

Diluc met them again. He felt his veins twitch in his head. These... devil’s spawns .

It was the two kids who had caused a ruckus in the market. 

He knew something was off, but he never imagined it was this kind of suspicious. These kids were part of the rebellion group. 

How they managed to cover the entire area with their people was unfathomable, especially with the ongoing war against some of the noble families as their so-called country’s leaders were also in cahoots with the mages.

With narrowed eyes, Diluc scrutinized the little boy and girl. They blinked back at him, staring with unblinking innocence.

They were so small. Too young to be spies, right? But then again, age never stopped kids from being sneaky little gremlins. 

Diluc thought back to Klee, the firecracker of a child who had caused more trouble than he cared to admit. "Children can be menaces," he muttered to himself. "Perfect little spies, too."

At that moment, the girl spoke up.

“Are you an angel?” she asked, her eyes wide.

Diluc blinked, taken aback. What? Angel? He turned to the girl, thoroughly confused. 

“Mama said angels have red hair,” she continued, pointing at his bright locks. “Angel!” she exclaimed excitedly, spreading her arms wide.

Diluc stared at her, completely floored. 

What the hell? He was no angel—definitely not in the sense she meant. Maybe his red hair was making her think he was some mythical being, but he was far from it.

“Angels... have red hair?” he muttered in his own language, pulling his hood tighter over his head. 

He was out here in the forest, far from the city, trying to mind his own business, and now he was apparently an angel in the eyes of a child. Something with this atmosphere makes him remember that time in the market.

These children are spies, Diluc thought, warily eyeing them. There aren't any more surprises, right?

Please no. 

Diluc may be a master at blending in and had his own way of navigating crowds or fights, but he was far from ‘normal.’ He is socially inept enough not to understand how normal humans act and think. He was, after all, what Klee had once called him — a “weird grown-up.”

So please. No more surprises .

He had no idea how they knew where he’d be or why they were here in the first place. But he wasn’t going to let his guard down. He had enough and he didn’t want to deal with any more human interaction—especially not with children.

Ah , another headache. Children . "Archons, help me," Diluc muttered under his breath.

Of course, no Archons were around to help. This was all on him.

“Why are you here?” Diluc asked, trying to make his annoyance sound more like genuine concern. "Do you have someone with you?"

The two kids stared back at him, as if trying to figure out whether he was a specimen for investigation or just another emotionally constipated grown-up. 

The boy opened his mouth again, but this time, Diluc had a sense of foreboding about what was about to come.

“I don’t want to be rude, but—” the boy began, and Diluc already wanted to disappear. “You’re that trash, right?”

Excuse me, little kid? Diluc stared at the boy in shock. Where in that sentence did you not want to be rude?

He wasn’t sure if he should applaud the boy’s audacity or be speechless at the sheer disrespect. Diluc’s eyebrow twitched. "Neither," he muttered, exasperated. I really want to leave. 

“Hey! Stop being so rude!” the little girl interjected, crossing her arms  

The girl’s scolding, who he thought was for the boy, was turned to Diluc. "Don’t just stand there and answer her question!" the girl continued, her impatience showing.

Diluc’s thoughts immediately went from ‘how to say he has to leave’ to ‘Okay, I’ll just leave.’ He sighed internally and closed his eyes, not wanting to deal with this bullshit anymore. No one in this place knows the word ‘respect.’

“It’s just a question! Why don’t you answer?” The girl was now on a full-on nagging spree.

“You really think that ‘that’ is the young master?” the boy, meanwhile, whispered to the girl.

“Dunno. But he acts with a trashy character, so maybe it really is him,” the girl concluded, matter-of-factly. What happened to the girl who said he was an ‘angel’?

“I thought he was dying? Why is he here?” the little boy asked, his curiosity piqued as he looked up and down at Diluc.

I already died, kid. It wasn’t a fun time.

Diluc paused.

Damn it.

Now he’s making dying jokes.

…

Fuck.

[Somewhere, sometime - probably in another universe - a white-haired man swung the frying pan on his hands like a spear as he exclaimed, “That’s a good pun!”

“That’s my gdamn pan!” his companion shouted, taking away the kitchen utensil.]

He was done. Done . So, he slowly began walking away, tired beyond belief.

Surprisingly, the children didn’t follow him, too busy talking among themselves.

As Diluc sneakily walked away, he couldn’t help but reflect on his situation. Why is having red hair so unusual? He wondered. Black hair would be more out of place here, wouldn’t it?

Everyone around here had some strange-colored hair. Brown was the most common, but there were always a few with blues, greens, and pinks. Red hair, though? Apparently, it made him look like an angel. 

Or maybe a trashy young master, Diluc thought, bitterly. 

He really couldn’t catch a break.

At some point, the day caught up with him. He was tired—so tired—and just wanted to be home.

Home... Diluc felt a slight pang in his chest as the thought of home crossed his mind. 

It wasn’t the mansion in Mondstadt. It wasn’t even his family’s estate anymore. No, he was thinking of the Golden Dragon’s lair. And he would deny it later, but for now, it was his home.

He sighed again, looking ahead. What a damn tiring day.

Later, when Diluc recounted the events of the market, Erhaben would only laugh and reprimand him. It was all a ploy, the dragon would say— humans trying to figure out who could use mana and who couldn’t. They’d probably label Diluc as something he’d cringe to hear. A name worse than “Darknight Hero.” Most likely coined by one of those kids.

But what Erhaben didn’t know, and Diluc would never tell him, was that it wasn’t just a ploy to identify magic users. The people in the market were part of the anti-mage faction. The rebellion who just tried to recruit him for whatever reason.

Thank Archons Toonka and his companion never saw him use his abilities. 

Seeing him letting the mages go is one thing. It was another reason if he was seen using his element. While it wasn’t exactly magic, his Vision could very well be regarded as one.

EXTRA 2

“To make it simple,” Eruhaben began, holding up the objects, “imagine this doll represents a human mage. A human mage is made of cotton and cloth. This orb here,” he gestured to the sphere in his hand, “is their mana. Humans use the power stored in this orb to perform magic. Simple enough?”

Chirp!

“Next, we have a dragon.” He picked up another doll, its design more elaborate. “Dragons, like humans, are made of cotton and cloth. But the orb inside them isn’t as solid. That’s because dragons can also draw power from pure mana in the world, not just from the pool within them.”

He set the dragon doll aside and lifted the final figure: a phoenix. It looked incomplete, ethereal almost.

“And this,” Eruhaben continued, his tone lowering slightly, “is a phoenix. A phoenix is made entirely of cotton—nothing solid outside to give it form. The cloth,” he pointed to the doll’s shape, “acts as the container holding it together. Without the cloth, there’s nothing to bind the phoenix, making it intangible. Formless.”

He paused for emphasis. “Think of this cotton as the Phoenix’s Fire. Every time you use your power, a piece of cotton is burned away. The more you use your abilities, the more your form diminishes. If you aren’t careful, a phoenix can disappear entirely.”

Chirp?

Eruhaben’s gaze softened just a fraction, though his voice remained stern. “To replenish the Phoenix’s Fire, there is what we call the Phoenix’s Will. Unlike mana or tangible energy, the Will is intangible—an abstract force born of the phoenix’s mind and heart. It is fueled by your emotions: resolve, desire, anger, joy, even sadness.”

He placed the phoenix doll down carefully. “The Will strengthens and replenishes the Fire, keeping you alive. Phoenixes are unique, little Phoenix. Unlike other beings, you cannot die unless you want to. Your existence hinges on your thoughts and feelings. That’s why mental and emotional balance is so vital for you.”

His voice grew quieter, more contemplative—almost as though he didn’t want the hatchling to hear, yet at the same time ensuring it understood just how important its existence truly was.

“That’s why your parent was… struggling.” Eruhaben’s words were deliberate, his gaze distant. “He was fading, his Will nearly spent. And the only thread keeping him anchored to life…” He looked at the hatchling, his voice firm but softening at the edges. “...is you.”

Chirp! Chirp!

The faintest smile tugged at Eruhaben’s lips, though it vanished just as quickly. “Thankfully, you’re here now.” He hesitated, his golden eyes flickering with something unreadable before he pressed on, his tone sharpening again. “When the time comes that I…” He stopped abruptly, lips pursed, then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever happens in the future, remember this: live.”

He fixed the hatchling with a piercing stare, his voice carrying a weight that could not be ignored. “Do you understand me?”

Chirp? 

Chirp!

Eruhaben straightened, brushing off his hands with practiced efficiency, the softness gone. “Good. Now let’s move on. We’ll focus on stabilizing your form first. After that, we’ll see if you can create your bird form.”

Chirp! Chirp!