Kael stared at the three options blinking on the panel, his expression folding into something odd and unreadable. He glanced once at Klee, then back at the panel that insisted on calling the girl Clara. The system had managed to tangle names again. Of course it had.
Still, the rewards made his chest tighten. Especially the last one.
Clara's Path-branch skill - "I Want to Help Too" - allowed him to add Destruction Path power to any object, amplifying its native force. Compared to the other two choices, this was an outright boon. The red coat might someday nudge him toward understanding Paths, and the automaton hound was a handy ally, but both were fragile or obvious. A Vision bearer could smash a clockwork hound in a motion, and curious scholars in Mondstadt or the Fatui would take it apart to learn its secrets.
The third option was different. It was a private ability. It would belong to him. He could enchant tools, sabotage locks, boost traps, or turn simple objects into bargaining chips. It was versatility wrapped in power. He chose quickly.
Kael drew a breath and stepped forward. His figure cut through the wolves and Hilichurls like a blade of wind. Sunlight glanced off his long sword as he moved, each motion carrying an undeniable authority. The first wolf barely had time to react before a silver arc crossed its throat and it collapsed without a cry, dark blood seeping into the soil.
The remaining wolves lunged in anger, claws flashing. Kael shifted with the ease of someone who always knew what came next. He slipped between strikes, and with a single, precise sweep another wolf froze mid-leap and fell limp. The Hilichurls, startled into action, surged forward with crude wooden clubs, but Kael's footwork and timing broke their rhythm. He stepped into range, turned his weight, and his blade cut through the nearest club. The Hilichurl collapsed in the same motion.
His movements flowed into one another without hesitation. There was no wasted flourish, no reckless force. Each strike landed where it had to land, each dodge opened space for a counter. Klee, who had fumbled at the edge of the fight with a bomb in hand, stared with her mouth open and the bomb forgotten.
When the final opponent fell, Kael sheathed his sword in a single, clean motion. He ran his thumb along the edge, thinking that a polearm would have been easier for him; years of Silvermane Guard training left him comfortable with reach. He allowed himself a small, dry remark. "Still getting used to this."
The blue panel rippled to life again.
[You chose Option Three.
You cleared the threat and gained Clara's favor. Reward granted: Clara-branch skill — I Want to Help Too. Effect: can temporarily imbue any object with Destruction Path energy, enhancing its original potency.]
A foreign warmth poured into Kael the moment the text registered, a force that rushed through his limbs like molten metal. It was violent under the surface, but it melted into his muscles and nerves without pain, more like a smith tempering a blade than like flame consuming flesh. His palm tingled as if something beneath his skin had awakened.
He guided that energy toward his sword. The metal answered, and a faint black-red sheen crawled along the blade, an aura that felt like pressure rather than heat. The sword seemed to hum with new intent, as if the air itself were being sharpened.
Then a sharp, crystalline crack rang out. Hairline fissures webbed along the blade until, with a brittle roar, the sword shattered into glittering fragments. Silver slivers tinked across the dirt and then lay cold against the earth.
Kael stared at his empty hand, then bent to pick up a shard. It was good steel, guild-grade, not some rare relic but reliable and well made. Still, the Path's surge had been more than the metal could bear.
"Too much force," he said softly, tasting the edge of a lesson. He had tried to graft raw Destruction onto something meant to hold and thrust, and the mismatch had ripped the weapon apart. The power did not politely augment; it amplified until the host failed.
The energy that had flowed into the sword did not vanish with the blade. It lingered in Kael, quiet as a crouched predator. He could feel it coiled beneath his ribs, patient and dangerous.
"Risky," he muttered, and a trace of a grin touched his mouth. "But useful."
Before he could test further, the system offered another prompt.
[Because you routed those scavengers, eyewitnesses may have reported your actions to the vagrant collective. They now know you sided with a girl linked to the mechanical settlement rather than with fellow humans. This may cause a public stir. Choose response.]
[Option One: Ignore the fuss. You act as you always have. If they come for trouble, meet them. Reward: Silvermane Guard winter armor set offering cold resistance and solid protection.]
[Option Two: Seek forgiveness. Attempt a soft approach by contacting the vagrant collective and explaining. Result uncertain. Reward: A bag of trash. Rumor claims carrying such trash opens a hidden doorway somewhere.]
[Option Three: Lie low. Keep out of the spotlight and let the noise die down. Reward: A bio-wave detector for treasure seeking.]
Kael glanced at the animals and the ruined sword fragments at his feet, then at the small, bewildered child who had offered him three lampgrass and a map. He considered the political cost and the practical gain. Public fights and odd alliances could ripple into long, inconvenient arcs. He had enough on his plate.
He tapped the option that preserved his freedom. For now, discretion beat drama.