Chapter 134. Anemo Gnosis
At the top floor, within her chamber, the Lady stood alone before Mondstadt's restored sky. The ley lines had calmed. The air no longer trembled.
"In the end," she said quietly, "I miscalculated."
The two Electro Cicin Mages exchanged a glance.
"It changes nothing," she continued. "It only means I must commit fully."
Her plan was no retreat. It was escalation concealed beneath diplomacy.
"I will gather every Fatui operative in Mondstadt," she declared, tone even. "At the right moment, we will strike the Anemo Archon and seize his Gnosis."
It was audacity sharpened to a point.
"Where?" one mage asked.
The Lady looked down upon the city. "Here."
Her agreement with the Knights had bought her space—legal insulation, a year's breathing room. Without formal charges, surveillance would thin. Accusations would lack weight.
One year.
Time enough to prepare an encirclement. Time enough to wait for Archons to depart. Time enough for fate to shift.
If Barbatos vanished again, she would enact the contingency. If he remained—then she would take what she came for.
Futsu Mitama lingered in her thoughts like an unhealed wound. As long as he remained, her plans fractured. She despised that truth. Worse, she respected it. If she clashed with him again, there was no guarantee the Raiden Shogun would not appear.
That uncertainty was intolerable.
So she would wait. She had already informed Scaramouche of The Archon's departure from Tenshukaku. His body was mended; as long as he remained discreet, Inazuma would not move against him. Yae Miko's cunning did not frighten her. Raw power still belonged to Scaramouche.
Power, however, had limits. Even the Lady understood that now.
"For now," she murmured, "we endure."
Encircling Barbatos within Mondstadt would be perilous. Better if he left the city willingly.
As if in answer, the sky tore. A shriek of space splitting echoed across the city. A rift, black and jagged, carved itself into the heavens.
From it emerged Dvalin—three pairs of wings beating against the wind, a roar that rattled stone.
The Lady's eyes narrowed.
The Abyss? Had Morax struck at it earlier? Was this the consequence?
She had been imprisoned during the chaos, aware only of distant tremors. When she broke free, Morax had stood before her—immovable, inexorable. Even Dottore had bowed before that presence. She had been forced to sit, to drink coarse tea while fury burned beneath her composure.
Now Dvalin returned—and upon his back stood Barbatos. Beside him, Futsu Mitama. And there—impossible, infuriating—Raiden Shogun.
The Lady's breath stilled.
Was the Raiden Shogun everywhere at once? Had she entered the Abyss as well? And where was Morax now?
Too many variables. Too many gods in one sky.
"Strange," she whispered. "Far too strange."
She would relay this to the other Harbingers. Others could approach Futsu Mitama. She would not. Pride had already cost her enough.
Her gaze fixed on Venti. Fire flickered in her eyes—not triumph, but restrained rage.
—
Below, the Knights moved swiftly to calm the populace. To the citizens, the Dragon Crisis had never truly ended; fear lingered like smoke.
"This is Dvalin, one of the Four Winds," the Knights proclaimed. "He brings no harm."
And more importantly—
"Anemo Archon Barbatos has manifested."
Faith did the rest. The air felt lighter; the sky clearer. For Mondstadt's people, that was proof enough. Bards seized the moment, singing once more of the Dragon of the East—of ancient bonds and forgotten guardians.
Dvalin had not been forgotten. He had simply become a story people told only when danger returned. Just as in Liyue, many praised Rex Lapis, yet few remembered the Yaksha who had borne the hidden suffering.
Peace always narrows memory.
And beneath that fragile peace, preparations for tragedy continued—quietly, patiently, inevitably.
—
"Dvalin! Save me!" Venti's voice rang out a heartbeat later.
Futsu Mitama glanced sideways.
Dvalin blinked. "That is the Bard speaking. Not the Anemo Archon."
He did not move.
Half an hour passed before Raiden Ei ceased her pursuit. Not once had she landed a decisive blow. Not because she lacked power—rather because Venti, for all his frivolity, was ancient. One of the victors of the Archon War. Wind cannot be cut so easily.
She lowered her blade at last, displeasure smoldering in her eyes.
Venti wiped imaginary sweat from his brow. "Listen to my explanation."
He straightened slightly.
"Granting him the Authority strengthens his self-defense. You cannot always shield him yourself."
That truth lingered heavily between them.
Raiden Ei turned toward Futsu Mitama. She understood. Musou no Hitotachi alone would not suffice forever. The Abyss had proven that. And yet—
Her Eternal Guardian bearing another Archon's Authority unsettled her in ways she would not voice.
"What do you choose?" she asked him at last.
The weight of three gazes fell upon him.
The Anemo Authority would broaden his capabilities far beyond raw destruction. It was versatile, adaptive, supportive. In truth, it might serve him better than lightning ever could.
"I am willing," he said calmly. "I will walk Shogun Raiden's path. But I am not strong enough yet. I must rely on what I can obtain."
Raiden Ei closed her eyes briefly.
"Very well," she said. "But remember—purity of path is what allows one to reach the end. Too many branches will only weaken the trunk."
Her glance toward Venti was unmistakable.
Use it if you must. But do not be shaped by it.
"I understand," Futsu Mitama replied.
Ei nodded once. Then her gaze shifted to Dvalin.
"This incident is concluded. Return to Inazuma soon. Your weapon comes first. Only with your own blade can you fully exert your strength. In seven days, I will return. I expect progress."
Lightning consumed her form, and she was gone.
The field felt quieter immediately.
Dvalin and Venti both exhaled.
"The pressure she exerts…" Dvalin muttered.
"Terrifying, right?" Venti replied weakly.
Then his tone shifted.
"Now," Futsu Mitama said, stepping forward, "when do we proceed?"
"Midnight," Venti answered softly. "We'll speak then."
Dvalin frowned faintly. He did not understand what passed between them. Futsu Mitama glanced briefly at the silent current of the Chat Group, then nodded.
"I'll come at midnight."
He transformed into lightning and vanished toward Mondstadt, leaving dragon and bard alone with their unspoken tensions.
—
He did not visit the Knights. He did not confront the Fatui.
He returned to the villa and lay down.
The exhaustion in his body had faded. The exhaustion in his heart had not.
He had fought Dvalin. Entered the Abyss. Fought the Abyss Order. Torn his way back through layers of darkness.
Strength returned quickly. Fatigue did not.
So he slept.
When he opened his eyes again, the clock neared eleven.
The Chat Group pulsed with unease.
Azhdaha questioned the timing. Maha Rukkhadevata warned of risk. Raiden Makoto feared the cost. Guizhong spoke of remnant souls—existing yet unable to touch the world. Ayaka worried for Mondstadt. Kokomi feared losing an Archon. Keqing noted the collective caution. Zhongli affirmed the gravity. Albedo pointed out the necessity of the Power of Time.
The conversation circled one truth.
Venti's plan was dangerous.
To approach the island where "she" had once left the Power of Time—at a specific hour—was not simple exploration. It bordered on courting annihilation.
Even Archons treated that power with caution. And yet—
"If something happens to me," Venti wrote lightly, "I'll give Futsu Mitama my trump card first."
A pause.
"This way, even if I fall, he'll be there."
The words were casual. But beneath them lay a quiet acknowledgment.
Wind can scatter.
Even Archons can vanish.
And tonight, beneath a moon that would not intervene, Venti intended to test a power that even gods approached with reluctance.
"I'm awake," Futsu Mitama wrote. "Is it truly that dangerous?"
Aila's response came immediately, relief barely concealed. "Young Master."
The others followed—questions, concern, restraint. Even Raiden Makoto suggested alternatives, risking far greater taboos in her own nation if necessary.
Venti declined them all.
Too many witnesses dilute a secret. Too many hands weaken a trump card. He would give it to Futsu Mitama alone.
That answer, light as it was phrased, carried weight.
When Futsu Mitama left Mondstadt at eleven, the city slept under quiet stars. Only a few noticed his departure.
Signora stood in shadow. She watched his retreating back with narrowed eyes. Once, she would have followed without hesitation. Clash or no clash, she would have forced clarity through confrontation.
Now she did not move.
The Raiden Shogun had appeared and disappeared unpredictably. Morax strolled openly through Mondstadt. Barbatos was no longer merely a drunkard hiding behind tavern doors.
The board had changed.
"Our objective is the Gnosis," she said at last. "Nothing else."
Even ambition must bow to timing. So she let him go.
—
Starsnatch Cliff lay quiet beneath the moon.
Wind combed the tall grasses in long, whispering strokes. The sea beyond was a dark expanse of breathing black.
Venti sat at the edge, Dandelion Wine in hand, as though tonight were ordinary.
"You're here," he said softly. "Right on time. A moment later and you might have missed me."
His smile was gentle. Too gentle.
Futsu Mitama sat beside him. "Is it truly that dangerous?"
He did not fear easily. He had walked the Abyss. He had seen Zhongli's spears fall like divine judgment. He had witnessed what true Archon-level force looked like.
Venti… should not be less.
"It's dangerous," Venti admitted lightly, gazing at the horizon. "But what in this world isn't? Breathing is dangerous. Living is dangerous."
He drank.
"The things Baal left behind are more perilous. They touch Inazuma's future. Mine is simpler."
Simpler.
"I don't know how long I'll be gone," he continued. "It might be a second. It might be a year."
His voice did not waver.
"Or I may drift in turbulence and lose my way. If that happens…you'll have to be my guiding wind."
The bottle left his hand.
The wind rose.
Not cold—warm. Reverent.
Before Futsu Mitama, a laurel crown manifested, woven of leaves and memory. The air thickened with devotion.
Voices—countless voices—rose in chorus.
Barbatos.
Faith condensed into something visible. Tangible. Within the wreath pulsed authority. And something deeper. Something immeasurable.
Futsu Mitama's pupils narrowed.
This was no casual measure.
"Ehe~" Venti tilted his head. "Want to touch it?"
He did not. That faith was not his to wield.
"Such restraint," Venti murmured.
He lifted his hand.
The laurel settled upon his brow. The transformation was immediate.
The bard's garments dissolved into sacred vestments. Pale wings unfurled behind him, immaculate and vast. The Skyward Harp glowed in his grasp, its strings humming with ancient wind.
When he played, the world responded.
Air bent. Grass bowed. The sky itself seemed to lean closer.
Futsu Mitama felt unease coil quietly in his chest. This was no half-measure.
"Midnight approaches," Venti said, floating above the cliff. "The island appears only for a breath of time. Seconds."
He placed a hand over his heart.
Anemo condensed. Something small—dense—encased within wind emerged.
"Go."
The energy shot forward. It struck Futsu Mitama before he could fully react, embedding into him with searing finality.
Midnight.
Far beyond the horizon, a speck of black emerged from nothingness.
An island.
Present for a heartbeat.
"My Gnosis," Venti said plainly. "I entrust it to you."
There was no jest now.
"My safety rests in your hands. If I succeed, I will return with the Power of Time. If I fail…"
He smiled—not carefree, but accepting.
"You will be the next Anemo Archon." The wind did not tremble. "The future of Mondstadt is yours."
There it was.
A statement too final to ignore.
Then light consumed him.
A streak of green cut through the sky, vanishing toward the distant island before it could fade.
Silence fell over Starsnatch Cliff.
Only wind remained.
And within Futsu Mitama's chest, the weight of a Gnosis began to settle—heavy, warm, and unbearably real.
At this moment, on Starsnatch Cliff, Futsu Mitama stood alone in a daze. Suddenly, he realized something, and looking in the direction Venti had left, he shouted,
"No!!! Take the Gnosis with you!!!"
But Venti could no longer hear him.
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