In a noble's study, heavy curtains blocked most of the light, leaving only a few rays to cast specks of light on the dark carpet.
The furniture in the room—a carved desk, a high-backed chair, a bookcase—was all made of the finest materials. But upon closer inspection, the silver candlestick in the corner was covered in a dull layer of grime, having not been polished for a long time.
This was much like the master of the house, this baron, whose awkward situation was becoming increasingly marginalized under the pressure of great nobles like Vladimir and Janus.
Gunnhildr stood before the desk, her posture upright. "That gang of Vladimir's has long regarded you as a weed on the wall, a thorn in their side. Even if you remain neutral and stand idly by now, after they succeed in suppressing us, who do you think will be the next to be liquidated and annexed to fill their coffers?"
A timely breeze brushed through the study, carrying a hint of coolness from the window. It circled past the bookshelf and gently touched the baron's tense brow.
Himmel took a step forward, the Venti hovering over his shoulder emitting a soft glow.
The young man's voice carried an unquestionable conviction: "Andrius and Lord Barbatos have already joined forces. The God of Gales' defeat is inevitable. Lord Baron, this isn't betrayal; it's an opportunity to stand on the side of the future."
The baron's fingers stroked his well-maintained beard, his eyes flickering uncertainly in the dimness.
His tone was filled with practical considerations, every word reeking of careful calculation: "Two against one? It sounds... quite good. But, who can guarantee the new god will be any better than the current King? If we change gods, will the sky above our heads really be any bluer?"
He paused, his voice dropping low with self-mockery. "Yes, those two, Janus and Vladimir, are too overbearing. But right now, I can at least hold onto this mansion, wear decent clothes, and live a stable life. Rebellion?" A dry chuckle escaped his throat. "If we lose, forget the mansion, I'll be thrown into the snow and frozen into a block of ice myself."
...
"Decent? Stable?" Amos stood at the door of the baron's study, her white hair like perpetual, unmelting snow. "Stop dreaming!"
She walked closer step by step, her gaze pressing down on the baron like a physical weight. "You think you can survive the storm by shutting your doors and pretending you can't see or hear? Wrong! You only have two paths! Either die with fools like Vladimir, or open your vaults, offer up your territory, and let it become the spoils of war for the resistance! The war between the old and new orders will absolutely not tolerate any 'centrists' who delude themselves into thinking they can survive by staying out of it!"
The color instantly drained from the baron's face. He pointed at Amos, his finger trembling uncontrollably, his voice distorted with terror. "L-Lady Amos! Why... you are an attendant by the side of the throne! How could you..."
Amos cut him off. "Mondstadt's order has rotted from the very roots! The King's gales can't even blow away its stench! The King... the King no longer has the spare energy to clean up the mess for those greedy fools!"
Her voice trembled slightly, yet it was incomparably firm. "I must destroy this order with my own hands, smash it all to pieces! Only then can faith in the King be restored!"
She took another step closer, almost able to feel the baron's ragged breathing. "Right now, I am giving you, and everyone like you who is cowering in a corner, trembling and hesitating, one last chance to pick a side. Will you die with the old order, or will you act, and fight for a place in the new one?"
After speaking, she didn't spare the ashen-faced baron another glance. She turned and left, her white robe tracing a resolute arc in the dimness.
The soft click of the study door closing sounded like a death knell in the baron's heart.
His legs gave out, and his heavy body collapsed into the high-backed chair.
"Even... even the King's closest attendant has rebelled? They're mad... everyone's gone mad..." he muttered to himself, cold beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
His heart was at war with itself.
On one side, maintaining the status quo, this "stability" was on the verge of collapse; on the other, rebellion, but the risk was like a bottomless abyss.
The ostracism and suppression from Vladimir and the others, Amos's threat, the power Gunnhildr had displayed, and that gentle breeze brought by the foreign god...
It all spun wildly in his mind. Finally, a trace of ruthlessness replaced the fear in his eyes.
The mind of a speculator ultimately strangled the fear of the unknown. He wanted to risk it all!
He shot up from the chair, a bit dizzy from the sudden movement.
He rushed to the door, yanked it open, and shouted hoarsely at the servant waiting outside, "Someone!"
The servant came at his call. "What are your orders?"
"Open the storehouse! Load the weapons, cloth, and grain onto the carts! All of it!"
...
Meanwhile, in the quiet chamber of another, more luxurious and heavily guarded noble residence, the atmosphere was equally grave.
The white-robed attendant Hector stood with his hands at his sides, his voice as flat as a calm lake. "The King is not unaware of the chaos in the city. But He... seems to be temporarily unable to spare the effort to suppress these rebels. You'll have to figure something out yourselves."
The corpulent Janus was sunk deep in his armchair, his hands clasped tightly over his chest.
His voice was shrill, filled with the panic and resentment of being abandoned. "The King is a god! An omnipotent god! For Him to do this, He must... He must no longer trust us loyal servants!"
Nearby, the tall and thin Vladimir paced back and forth on the magnificent carpet, his footsteps quick and heavy.
"Without the King's favor, without His gales to back us up, how are we supposed to suppress that growing mob? They even dare to rob the granaries now, to kill knights!" He stopped abruptly, a vicious light flashing in his eyes. "We have to do something! We must prove our value to the King! Prove that only we can truly maintain His order and clear out these vermin that defile Mondstadt!"
...
The deepest darkness before dawn swallowed everything. Starlight and moonlight were blocked by the eternal, grayish-white wind wall, plunging the entire world into pitch-blackness.
At the edge of the resistance camp, in a simple stone house, Lumiere slept in his clothes. His heavy breastplate remained on, pressing coldly against his body.
The greatsword leaned against the wall within his reach, its hilt worn smooth by his palm. Even in sleep, his brow was slightly furrowed, his breathing light, like a stalking leopard.
Suddenly—
"Enemy attack—!"
"Hold the breach!"
"They're coming from the east!"
A chaotic explosion of battle cries, clashing metal, and heavy, swift footsteps erupted in an instant!
Someone ran frantically past outside, their leather boots thudding in a chaotic, urgent rhythm on the stone slabs, interspersed with the sharp whistle of arrows cutting through the air and the piercing shriek of clashing weapons.
Almost at the very instant the sound reached his ears, Lumiere's eyes shot open, devoid of any trace of sleep.
He snatched the greatsword beside him, his body springing from the bed like a taut bowstring, and crashed through the wooden door into the chaotic darkness outside.
The camp's fires flickered, illuminating the silhouettes of figures locked in combat.
The armor of the Mondstadt Knightly Order reflected a hard, cold light under the scattered torches. They poured in like a black tide through a weak point in the camp's defenses.
Many people, just startled from their sleep, didn't even have time to grab their weapons before falling under the precise and ruthless slashes of the Knightly Order.
"Don't panic!" Lumiere's voice was like a bedrock, cutting through the clamor. "Rally to me! Form a defensive line!"
His cry seemed to hold a magical power. Dozens of soldiers near him, who had been somewhat flustered, immediately gathered at the sound of his voice.
Shield bearers gritted their teeth, slamming their leather-covered wooden or iron shields heavily onto the ground with a dull thud, quickly forming a shield wall.
Spearmen then poked the gleaming tips of their spears through the gaps in the shields, like a startled hedgehog raising its quills.
However, the Knightly Order's raid had clearly been meticulously planned.
They did not rush to charge the hastily formed defense line. Crossbowmen in the rear, protected by small tower shields, raised specially made crossbows with thicker arms.
The crossbow bolts were not the usual conical shape but had barbs and three-edged blood grooves, giving them extremely high armor-piercing capability.
"Swish-swish-swish—!"
A dense volley of crossbow bolts shot forth like a swarm of venomous bees! The specially made heads easily tore through the wooden shields, sinking deep into the bodies of the soldiers behind, and even pierced through the weak joints of the iron shields!
Cries of pain immediately rang out from behind the shield wall, and a breach appeared in the line.
At the same time, heavy infantry in the Knightly Order's front rank, holding broadswords and battle axes, advanced steadily in tight three-man fireteams, specifically targeting gaps in the defense for fierce attacks. Every chop was heavy and powerful, shaking the shield-bearers' arms until they went numb, blood seeping from their mouths and noses.
Lumiere swung his greatsword, parrying a crossbow bolt aimed at his face. The clash of the blade against the arrowhead struck a dazzling spark.
"Hold the line! Fight and fall back! Move toward the residential district!" he was forced to order a retreat.
The defensive line teetered on the verge of collapse before the well-trained and well-equipped enemy. Every step backward was paved with hot blood.
...
Meanwhile, at the rear of the camp.
Gunnhildr had completely handed over command of the front line to Lumiere. She stood on a slightly elevated stone step. Venti hovered at her shoulder, and a gentle yet firm wind carried her voice clearly into the ears of every awakened citizen and member of the follow-up troops, as if whispering right beside each person.
"The Knightly Order is conducting a night raid! Everyone, act according to the plan! Men, pick up any weapon you can find and hold the alleyways leading deeper in! Women and children, move rolling logs, stones, and boiling water to the windows and rooftops! Artisan group, check the traps you've set!"
There was no crying or chaos. After a brief commotion, the populace immediately began to operate like a precision machine.
Men grabbed pitchforks, hammers, and even rough wooden clubs that had been leaning against walls, the sleepiness in their eyes replaced by a ruthlessness to defend their homes.
Women worked together to lift pre-prepared, spike-studded rolling logs to the roofs on both sides of the narrow alleys, while children used pottery jars to fetch cold water and place them on stoves that had not yet completely gone out.
The initially wavering morale quickly stabilized amidst these orderly and united preparations.
Coppelia and Columbina appeared at Gunnhildr's side.
Coppelia's left hand held a longbow whose body flowed with a purple light. Above her right palm hovered a ball of bright white fire that constantly leaped and radiated high temperatures, dispelling a small patch of darkness around them.
"What do you need us to do?" Coppelia's voice was calm.
Gunnhildr's gaze pierced the darkness ahead, landing on the direction of the fierce battle. "You will act as a surprise unit..."
...
At the front, Lumiere's defensive line had nowhere left to retreat. A few dozen meters behind them were the dense buildings of the residential district.
The shield wall was in tatters, and several spears had been snapped.
Just as the Knightly Order was about to crush this stubborn resistance in one fell swoop, a heaven-shaking roar suddenly erupted from their flank!
"For the glory of Lawrence!"
Venerare led the charge. The Lawrence Clan knights behind her were like a drawn sword, stabbing out fiercely from a narrow alley, viciously plunging into the waist of the Knightly Order's attack formation!
These knights, who had roamed the northern wilds, had a savage and efficient fighting style, instantly throwing the Knightly Order's tight formation into chaos.
At almost the same time, the main force of the resistance, dispatched by Gunnhildr, arrived at the front lines. Like fresh troops surging from behind a dam, they quickly filled the gaps in Lumiere's defensive line, forming a pincer attack with the Lawrence knights.
Lumiere's spirits soared, and he immediately seized the opportunity. "Counterattack! Push them back!" He swung his greatsword and charged into the enemy ranks, leading by example. The wind from his blade howled, cleaving a knight captain who was trying to regroup his formation, sending him stumbling back several steps, armor and all.
However, the Knightly Order's ability to adapt exceeded their expectations.
The chaos lasted only a short time. The soldiers of the Knightly Order immediately contracted by the hundred, quickly forming a huge, circular defensive formation like a curled-up hedgehog.
The outer layer was a stack of heavy shields, with a forest of spears poking out from the gaps, pointing in all directions. The crossbowmen inside continuously fired volleys of arrows outward.
This tortoise-shell formation withstood the charge of the Lawrence knights and the fierce assault of the resistance. Under the commander's orders, it even began to press forward like a slowly moving iron hedgehog, attempting to retake the initiative.
The battlefield fell into a brutal stalemate.
The resistance and the Lawrence knights fiercely attacked the iron-clad formation. The clang of swords on shields was deafening, accompanied by the dull thud of spears piercing armor, the wails of the dying, and the wet squelch of arrows hitting flesh... Every sound represented a life being lost.
The iron-clad formation was like a meat grinder, constantly consuming the blood and lives of the attackers, while the resistance's assault, though fierce like waves crashing on a reef, struggled to destroy it completely.
Time ticked by. Casualties on both sides continued to mount, and the sickening stench of blood filled the air.
...
At the rear of the battlefield, the Commander of the Knightly Order was calmly observing the situation. Vladimir stood beside him, wringing his hands in both excitement and nervousness.
"Can we take them?" Vladimir's voice was urgent.
A confident arc formed on the Commander's lips. "Relax, we came fully prepared. They can't break this iron wall formation. We just need to wear down their spirit..."
As if remembering something, Vladimir lowered his voice. "I heard... that foreign god didn't die completely. What if..."
The Commander scoffed, cutting him off. "The spy we sent saw it clearly. What came was just a frail incarnation. His wind can't even tickle our knights' capes. Nothing to fear..."
Before he could finish, one of his personal guards suddenly pointed at the sky, his voice changing. "Sir! Look at the sky!"
"Hm?" The Commander looked up in confusion, following the soldier's finger.
In the pitch-black night sky, he saw a ball of purple light with a faint yellow bright spot flickering within it. That spot was falling at an unnatural speed, its target... shockingly, their exact location!
"What is th—"
"BOOM—!!!"
A streak of white light smashed down like a meteor less than ten paces behind them!
It was a strangely shaped arrow of light. The arrowhead seemed to be separated into two chambers by some kind of amber-colored crystal, filled respectively with violent red fire and restless purple light.
The moment the light arrow hit the ground, the Geo element shell shattered! The Pyro and Electro elements, freed from their constraints, collided violently—
A deafening explosion tore through the air! The violent [Overload] reaction transformed into an expanding fireball and shockwave, violently flinging the surrounding dirt, rubble, and the slow-to-react Knightly Order Commander and Vladimir into the air!
The two of them tumbled through the air like broken kites before crashing heavily to the ground.
...
At the front, Lumiere was still leading his troops in a stubborn resistance, keeping the enemy firmly outside the residential district.
He swung his greatsword, its blade already chipped, each swing kicking up a shower of blood.
Comrades at his side fell continuously, only to be quickly dragged back by those behind them, their spots immediately filled, but the defensive line was still under immense pressure.
A streak of cyan light flew silently to Lumiere's side, and Venti's voice sounded directly in his ear, like a whisper of wind.
Lumiere gave a slight nod while parrying an enemy in front of him.
He took a deep breath. His voice wasn't loud, but aided by Venti's wind, it clearly reached the ears of every resistance member. "The preparations in the rear are complete! Feign defeat, cover each other, and retreat into the residential district!"
With the order given, the resistance's defense visibly "weakened." The line began to falter, and the soldiers' faces showed looks of "panic" as they fell back in defeat.
Venti flew to Venerare, delivering the same order.
The Lawrence knights understood immediately. Their offensive momentum slowed, their formation changed to feign exhaustion, and they began to "rout" along with the resistance into the complex alleyways of the residential district.
Seeing this, the Knightly Order's morale surged.
"They can't hold on! After them!" The iron wall formation instantly broke, and the soldiers transformed into pursuit teams, charging like sharks that had smelled blood into the maze-like alleys of the residential district.
Once inside the narrow alleys, they immediately followed their urban warfare manual, forming groups of five to ten, back-to-back, with shields and blades in front, spears in the middle, and crossbowmen guarding the rear. They advanced like small streams, cautiously yet swiftly.
...
Elsewhere, the Knightly Order Commander, dizzy from the explosion, shook his head and struggled to his feet. His helmet was askew, and his magnificent cape was caked with mud.
He pulled up the terrified Vladimir, who had a cut on his face from a piece of rubble and was shivering.
"You said that foreign god..." Vladimir shrieked, still in shock.
"Shut up!" the Commander interrupted him gruffly. His gaze swept uncertainly over the site of the explosion, where only a shallow, scorched pit remained.
However, as if to answer Vladimir's doubts, dozens more equally violent explosions erupted in the rear of the Knightly Order's position! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Fire shot into the sky from different locations, accompanied by the screams of soldiers and greater chaos.
The Commander's face changed completely. He no longer hesitated, grabbing Vladimir's arm. "Retreat! Order the troops immediately, pull out of this area first! Quickly!"
...
High above, in the tower, Decarabian, who had remained as silent as a stone statue, seemed to shift his eternally outward-gazing eyes slightly.
He had clearly detected the unusual, continuous energy bursts in the city below, something far beyond the capabilities of ordinary weaponry.
The initially steady gales around him suddenly rippled invisibly, carrying a trace of disturbed agitation as they slowly swept toward the source of the explosions.
___
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