The winds outside Mondstadt carried the scent of rain and distant stormfire. At the city gates, three Knights of Favonius leaned casually against the stone archway, trading the sort of weary complaints that came naturally to tired, understaffed soldiers.
"Stormterror's been attacking far too often," one muttered. "Merchants are taking losses, roofs are collapsing, and we spend half our shifts helping with repairs."
"And the Knights still need recruits," another sighed. "But where are we supposed to find anyone qualified?"
"There's always that prodigy. The kid with the sword. Shame he still refuses to join us."
Their voices trailed off as all three turned toward the bridge.
A boy approached with a calm, deliberate pace. His features were clean and sharply defined, his expression steady in a way that felt slightly out of place in Mondstadt. He walked like someone who had spent most of his life alone.
"Kael. Heading out again?" a guard called with a friendly wave.
Kael Arclight paused and returned a polite nod. "A collection task. Lampgrass."
"Straightforward enough, but be careful," another warned. "Hilichurls have been gathering near the east ridge. And the Fatui…" He lowered his voice. "They have been behaving even more boldly than usual."
Kael lifted a hand in acknowledgment and crossed the bridge, his footsteps soft across the wood.
Behind him, the guards kept whispering, unaware their words carried farther than intended.
"Sixteen years old, isn't he? Looks older."
"Sword talent like that, but no Vision. What a waste."
"I heard the Lawrence Clan tried to bring him into the family and he refused."
"A smart boy. Nobles only want to claim him."
"And he lives cleaner than any of us. Doesn't drink, gamble, or cause trouble."
"A pity he won't join the Knights. He'd outrank all of us in a year."
Their voices faded as Kael continued down the path.
He did not look back. Their words lingered anyway, leaving a familiar bitterness in his chest. A prodigy in swordsmanship. If only skill alone could earn him safety or freedom.
He walked the familiar road out of the city, entering the quiet perimeter of Whispering Woods. The forest was far from whispering today; its stillness pressed against the ears like held breath. Kael let his own breathing fall into steady rhythm.
Swordsmanship remained the only thing he could rely on. It was the single skill he could refine day after day without anyone taking it from him. In a city shaped by nobles and quiet politics, an orphan with talent was not treated as a person. He was a resource waiting to be owned.
So he had chosen caution.
Stay unnoticed. Save Mora. Build reputation. Join the Knights later, when no noble could push him around.
That had been the plan.
But plans held little weight in a world where those without Visions lived and died by luck. A single arrow from a Hilichurl could kill him. A slime's explosion could end him without warning. Even seasoned Knights met their end beyond the walls. What chance did someone with only a sword have?
A quiet laugh escaped him.
"Sixteen years in Teyvat and not a single miracle."
He followed the shaded path where Lampgrass grew, stepping over familiar stones and roots, keeping an eye on every corner where an ambush might hide. Nearly three hours passed before he reached the narrow cliffside above Whispering Woods.
A sudden howl broke the silence, sharp and close enough to force him still.
Wolves appeared first, stepping out from between the trees with raised fur and hungry eyes. Five, then six. Hilichurls followed soon after, masks cracked and spears tapping rhythmically against the earth.
Kael clicked his tongue. "Wolves and Hilichurls together… that's unusual."
He tightened his grip on his sword. Running would accomplish nothing. His commission reward, the Lampgrass, none of it mattered compared to staying alive.
As he eased backward, a sound brushed through the air. A chime. Not wind or beast. Something manufactured.
A glowing panel formed in front of him, its cool blue light washing over the ground.
Kael froze. "That definitely isn't from Teyvat."
Lines of text scrolled across its surface with mechanical precision.
[Amber Era 2158 : Thirty years before awakening.
Birthplace: Jarilo-VI.
Status: Transmigrated infant.
Initial conditions: severe winter; high mortality; Silvermane Guard intervention required.]
Kael stared. "Jarilo-VI… Belobog…?"
The panel flickered as if responding.
[World mismatch detected.
Host location: Teyvat (non-Honkai realm).]
He let out a slow breath. "So my cheat sheet ended up in the wrong world."
The wolves crept closer. The Hilichurls rattled their spears.
The panel continued:
[Compiling host history.
Ten years: failed entry into the Path of Preservation.
Fourteen: mechanical aptitude noted.
Nineteen: assisted lower district medical triage.
Twenty-four: bodily deterioration detected.
Twenty-nine: hope threshold nearing collapse.]
Kael's expression tightened. "I never lived that."
[Thirty years of accumulated struggle recorded.
Ready for transfer.]
[Do you accept thirty years of experience?]
A soft, disbelieving sound left him. "Thirty years of suffering I never experienced… why not. Today was going too smoothly anyway."
He selected Yes.
The world tightened inward.
Cold and heat, blood breath breath. Metal against skin andSnow underfoot. The relentless rhythm of survival pressed into him like a hammer shaping steel. A lifetime forged in winter forced itself into bone and muscle all at once.
Kael staggered once before his balance returned. His vision sharpened. His pulse steadied. His breathing aligned with the calm of a seasoned soldier.
Thirty years of instinct settled into his sixteen-year-old body.
He released a quiet breath. "That… is new."
The wolves sensed the change and hesitated.
Kael drew his blade. There was no fear in the motion now, only the clear, practiced logic of someone who understood combat far too well.
The first wolf lunged. Kael stepped aside, redirected its momentum, and slammed it into the ground. The Hilichurls rushed forward in a frenzy. He moved through them with controlled precision, shifting weight, angling his shoulder, letting the blade slip past masks with clean efficiency. Nothing was wasted. No motion was decorative.
Within half a minute, the clearing was still.
Kael flicked the blood from his sword. "Well. Something finally went right."
A rustling sound reached him from the trees.
Soft bells chimed lightly as a small figure bounded through the brush. The red coat, the charms on the backpack, the unmistakable bright-eyed expression.
Kael blinked. "Klee."
He sheathed his sword and let his posture ease. "You're safe. The wolves won't come back."
Her face brightened instantly. "You beat them all? Wow! Are you a super adventurer?"
Kael let out a tired laugh. "Let's call it beginner's luck."
Somewhere in his chest, the panel pulsed again, steady and quiet like an unfamiliar heartbeat.
Everything had shifted.
For the first time since arriving in Teyvat, Kael Arclight was not starting from zero.