"I'll be heading back as well, Lord Wolf King."
Klee no longer called Andrius by name, instead using an honorific.
"Oh—and about what happened to me today… please don't tell anyone, alright? It's my little secret."
Thinking back on her past self—spoiled by her status and protected by her age—Klee felt increasingly ashamed of her former arrogance.
Andrius nodded with quiet satisfaction.
"Klee has finally grown up."
"I'll come see you again, Razor."
After Klee left, wolves began to emerge from the tall grass surrounding Wolvendom.
One by one.
Dozens. Then hundreds.
They had been lurking all along, waiting only for Razor's command to attack any intruder.
"Your blood…" Razor muttered uneasily.
"…Golden."
"Child," Andrius said gently,
"Lord Barbatos's blood is golden as well. Though the Prince of Snezhnaya is not one of the Seven, his power rivals theirs."
"I… bit a god…"
"You're wondering why you could harm a god," Andrius continued.
"In theory, a god's body is even more resilient than that of a demon god. But the Prince seems unwilling to cloak himself in divine protection—perhaps a method to avoid erosion."
Even Andrius could not fully understand it.
Setting aside Severin's title, his age alone was astonishing.
"He could be considered your elder brother—and Klee's as well. Such a young god-like existence… Teyvat has never seen one before."
"Perhaps," Andrius said softly,
"he truly can help the Tsaritsa fulfill her wish to defy the Heavenly Principles."
"But I likely won't live to see that day. The future belongs to you young ones."
Andrius brought forth the fragment of Electro comprehension, explaining its origin to Razor.
"My remnant soul weakens with each passing day. Before I fade completely, you must refine it."
"This is a gift from the Prince of Snezhnaya—an opportunity beyond measure. Do not waste it. Understand?"
Tears welled in Razor's eyes as he wrapped his arms around Andrius's neck.
"I will protect… Lupical!"
Mondstadt City
Amber descended from the sky with Severin in tow, startling a flock of white pigeons perched on the bridge over the river.
"We're finally back," Amber said in relief.
"Prince Severin, we're going to the Favonius Cathedral first."
And just like that, a grown man was dragged off to church by sheer force of will.
The Favonius Cathedral—the largest and oldest church in Mondstadt.
After settling him inside, Amber went to fetch a priestess.
Severin rested briefly on one of the pews, casually sensing for the location of the Lyre der Himmel.
Nothing.
Barbatos had hidden even his instrument.
Was the Prince of Snezhnaya truly such a terrifying bandit?
Lost in thought, Severin looked up as Amber returned with a young woman.
She wore a priestess's long gown, a holy book slung at her waist, inlaid with a Hydro Vision.
Her light-brown twin ponytails were coiled into soft spirals, resting against her bare shoulders.
White stockings and heeled shoes completed the traditional attire.
Her smile was bright and warm—full of youthful vitality.
So was her voice.
"Barbara, shining idol, reporting for duty! Leave the healing to me—I won't disappoint!"
She was none other than Barbara, deaconess of the church.
"This is the Prince of Snezhnaya," Amber introduced.
Barbara nodded politely.
"Though the Fatui don't have the best reputation in Mondstadt—and my sister has barely had time to rest because of the Snezhnayan delegation—I won't judge anyone by their origin."
"A patient is a patient. I treat everyone equally."
Her sister, Jean, was the Acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius.
Barbara herself, unsuited for the sword, had chosen the path of support and healing.
"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Barbara," Severin said calmly.
She smiled and began cleaning his wound.
The moment she lifted his sleeve—
She staggered back two steps, nearly screaming.
Amber, helping beside her, froze as well.
Only now did she see it clearly.
Severin's entire arm—
Not a single patch of intact skin remained.
It looked as though it had been scorched by raging flames—
Wrinkled, cracked, dried, twisted.
But that alone was not what shocked Barbara.
Within his meridians flowed a black, decayed aura—rotten and terrifying beyond words.
"My Archon…" Barbara whispered.
"This is… curse power."
She swallowed the rest of her sentence.
For someone carrying such an overwhelming curse to still be alive—
It was a medical miracle.
She could already tell: the curse was not limited to his arm.
The Knights of Favonius once lost a brave member to a curse no larger than a fingernail.
Driven mad by pain and despair, he eventually bit off his own tongue.
That level of agony—physical and mental—could break anyone.
Amber shook her head.
"But Prince Severin purified Dvalin's curse. He should be able to purify his own, right?"
So she believed it must be something else.
"It is a curse," Severin said quietly.
"But not an ordinary one."
"It is a curse from the Heavenly Principles."
He did not wish to recall the hunt three years ago.
The most vicious curse imaginable had been imposed upon him.
Only with the system's aid had he managed to suppress it—barely clinging to life.
Such a curse could only be erased by power equal to the Heavenly Principles themselves.
For now, Severin could only endure it.
Every day—
Pain like ten thousand arrows piercing his heart.
Every day—
Agony as if his body were being torn apart.
He explained briefly, satisfying their curiosity.
But once he finished, both women fell silent.
The Heavenly Principles.
Supreme. Untouchable.
Yet terrifyingly close.
The Seven were its proxies.
The Seven Nations, its design.
Their people—its subjects.
A curse from the Heavenly Principles was beyond purification.
No wonder the Prince of Snezhnaya chose to stand against it.
For the first time, Amber and Barbara truly began to understand Severin's position.
And with that understanding came respect.
What kind of willpower did it take to endure such torment every single day?
Such resolve was unprecedented in Teyvat's history.
And yet—
Watching him sit there, calm and composed, only made their hearts ache.
"Miss Amber. Miss Barbara," Severin said evenly.
"Sympathy is something I reserve for my enemies."
"Abuse it, and when you truly wish to show compassion one day—
it will backfire."
As Barbara treated the wound, she asked softly,
"Prince Severin… do you have enemies in Snezhnaya?
You're so favored by the Tsaritsa—surely she wouldn't send you to the frontlines, right?"
Amber held her breath.
She wanted to know the answer too.
To her, the Prince of Snezhnaya was a man shrouded in mystery—
And she could never quite stop herself from wanting to understand him better.
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