I am in pain by this story becoming so long but, hey, I genuinely hope you all enjoy all this content folks, hopefully it's not too dragged out.
The Traveller's section is written in 2nd POV, because I thought it'd be a fun reference to them being the player character in-game.
Finally, warnings for more body horror, both of the chalk and flesh variety.
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Chapter 9: That this end is bitter
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An entranced Il Dottore keeps babbling observations as he grabs a pick and a scalpel, but Albedo can't focus on either the Harbinger's words or actions. His mind is stuck between reality and memory, the ghost of his Master's face looming over his blurred vision, her hand reaching over his eyes. There's a pressure on his chest that grows increasingly uncomfortable, like someone is foraging through a messy shelf.
The harsh lights overhead blend with a distant memory of lanterns once hanging over his Master's lab, but the ones currently over him are a sunray-like white instead of a foggy orange, and that difference is enough to keep Albedo somewhat grounded. Still, his mind lingers to the old lab, to that long-concluded conversation after he discovered how he was created. He wishes his past self had developed a great enough sense of curiosity to ask why his Master became so agitated by that discovery. Albedo would follow her orders either way of course, but the vague motive puzzled him. His Master's expression back then was a faded fragment of a memory, but one he could now vaguely attribute to... fear? Or hesitation?
... Or perhaps it was embarrassment? Miss Alice's face twisted to mute horror when Klee asked her where babies come from. Did his Master not want Albedo to know in the same way a typical parent doesn't tell their child where babies come from until they're older?
In any case, Dottore will be none the wiser and that's enough. Albedo is the only success from a very long line of experiments. If Il Dottore tried, then he would fail just as many, if not more times, and his resolve would falter long before hers.
"So much of that horrid gunk in the way..."
His Master's hand passes through him and disappears along with the rest of her. The lights above him remain a brilliant white that colours Il Dottore's hair a dull shade of grey as he digs through his body with a scalpel.
Albedo is not sure why he can't feel any pain. Though his skin is hard to break and less sensitive to pressure, Albedo's sense of touch is similar to a typical human.
But he is not sure if the same applies to his sense of pain. He has one, though it probably differs in subtle ways too. Unlike Sucrose hissing at a papercut, or the various pained grunts of injured adventurers, incisions are nothing more than a dull throb to Albedo, more annoying than painful. Yet he may be more susceptible to blunt damage, judging by one awful night he and Timaeus fell through a craig while exploring Dragonspine. Timaeus had a cracked femur but managed to bear it and walk, fortunate at the time because Albedo could not. His joints felt like they'd locked up, and every movement risked him cracking in two and reduced to dust. And, unlike Timaeus, who made a sardonic comment about getting used to the pain after reaching the lab, Albedo's pain never subsided, not until he got some privacy and healed himself with a chunk of chalk from their spare alchemical supplies.
Maybe the corruption is dulling not only his sense of place, but his pain too. That must be why he feels nothing but hollowness when Il Dottore picks more corrupted chalk out of him, like charred pastry sheets.
Yet even with all the pieces he removes, Il Dottore digs more and more. Albedo is too weak to lift his head, so he merely listens to the squelching and grinding and takes a few experimental breaths. He can only take shallow breaths, as the corruption has most definitely spread into his diaphragm, if not the lungs themselves.
"Hm, this is most intriguing." Il Dottore is wearing thick gloves, and a foreign part of Albedo thinks it's a shame, but that thought is quickly squashed. "Oh, what do we have here?"
Unlike before, Albedo's whole body shudders as something is ripped from his upper torso. He involuntarily takes in a deep breath, but then it falters and he can no longer breathe at all, even when he tries.
Il Dottore pulls out a large long piece. Even blackened and melted by the corruption, Albedo recognises it as his diaphragm, with bits of lung sticking to the ends.
The Harbinger's eyes narrow at the deformed organ before he tosses it in a metal tray. He turns to Albedo and his gaze lands back to his cavernous torso. "Oh, what do we have here...?"
The moment Albedo realises what Il Dottore is reaching for, he jerks back with all his strength, making his captor pause. "Don't!" Captor or not, Il Dottore is still human, and if he gets infected, then so will everyone else in this facility and it will spread and reach Mondstadt—
By a miracle of fate, or perhaps because Albedo jerked his manacles hard enough to make them worryingly groan, Il Dottore retracts his hand and merely tilts his head to get a better look.
"Is that..." His face shifts through a multitude of emotions before settling on a manic grin. "Oh, I recognise this! Only seen speculative sketches but..." he pauses and scratches his chin. "Oh. Oh, I see now! If you have the corruption and if my suspicions about that carcass at Dragonspine are true..." His eyes crinkle in amusement. "Now I see why our dear Tsaritsa is all too willing to improve on preexisting flesh instead of trying to create new one."
Albedo gives him a curious look. "What?" he rasps, only able to let out single words as his lungs are now like a balloon with holes. "Durin... was..."
He's not actually sure what happened to Durin. Albedo got his corruption from the slain dragon, but where did Durin get his corruption from? Did another homunculus infect him? Was there some inherent flaw in Durin's design, in Albedo's design as well?
"Ha, so you're on a first name basis with that dead dragon?" Il Dottore asks off-handedly, still staring at Albedo's corrupted heart from various angles. His face grows increasingly irritated until he snaps his hands and summons a couple of underlings. "Hoist it up! I need to get a better look at the back!"
A couple of Fatui grunts crowd around Albedo and his vision blurs as part of the table detaches, then rotates. A newfound sense of vertigo makes his head sway as he's lifted up, hanging from his bound hands. His shoulders protest as his joints grind against each other as some of the corrupted chalk trickles down from him, like congealed blood.
Il Dottore walks out of his field of view. "Just as I suspected, those designs must be... Augh, great, this is probably encrypted to hell and back," he curses, and Albedo holds back a self-satisfied grin. Of course they are, and Il Dottore is a fool to think he could ever break his Master's code. "At least the patterns..."
Il Dottore grows uncharacteristically silent. Albedo fidgets, curious if he can twist his hand through the restraints with the newfound aid of gravity.
Unfortunately he cannot, and his movement only grinds his already abused joints against each other. If he's not careful he will be soon missing more than a leg.
"Get me whatever we have on Abyssal!" Il Dottore yells and one of his underlings runs out of the lab with their tail between their legs.
Il Dottore walks to his front and gives Abedo an appraising look. Albedo blankly stares back.
"Now Mr Homunculus, I must say I'm stumped, and that's not a thing that happens. So I kindly request your input."
Albedo is not sure what Il Dottore is trying to pull, so he keeps staring at the man.
"Now from what I can tell, you served as some sort of lab assistant to your mysterious Master — I would be ever so grateful if you could provide their name by the way. No? In any case, one day you got a nonsensical assignment that forced you to relocate to Mondstadt, a podunk town that takes in every stray that stumbles through its gates. Now I do not know if you are lying to me about not being a spy, but the title of Chief Alchemist in the Knights of Favonius of all organisations would not give you any actual intel about the goings on in Teyvat. But, what other explanations does that leave me with?"
Il Dottore sways back on his feet, waiting for an answer, but Albedo merely frowns. The silence stretches for several dull seconds, and the Harbinger's sardonic smile drops.
"Pulling teeth it is then. So! What's even more intriguing is this 'illness' you've come down with. This 'corruption' caused quite an upheaval a few centuries back, and having it return so suddenly would only spell disaster for Teyvat. And isn't it another fortunate coincidence that you are nowhere near your Master as to when this happens? Unless of course you were created by one of those idiot Knights, but if that dullard Varka ever employed anyone remotely competent besides you I'll eat my scalpel."
"... Point?" Albedo rasps, still confused.
Il Dottore clicks his tongue in annoyance. "My main point of contention to all this is to what extent is this convenient and very deadly affliction a result of pure chance? Especially since the last herald of the corruption bears a resemblance to you, something you seem to be aware of."
Only recently and by chance, Albedo mentally adds. His Master never instructed him to investigate Dragonspine; his analysis of Durin's remains was an indulgence in learning about himself rather than the true nature of the world.
But even with those inaccuracies, Il Dottore's theory makes a frightening amount of logical sense, and its implications make Albedo's non-existent stomach churn. He opens his mouth to refute his theory, but he can't find a way to make the pieces not fit.
Il Dottore doesn't notice Albedo's increasing agitation, staring at the floor in thought. "I'm sure if your Master is this brilliant alchemist, they must have known to an extent. But they still went through the effort of creating you, only to abandon you later on?"
"... wasn't... abandoned..." Albedo rasps, forcing his lungs to cooperate.
But Il Dottore ignores him and keeps rambling. "Assuming they did know, why did they take the risk? Were they this desperate for a mere assistant? Or..." Il Dottore pauses, and his gaze darkens. "Or maybe they realised the security flaw and made the best of a faulty product." His look is that of a cat that has cornered a mouse. "Yes, logically, their best course of action would be to decommission you when you start showing symptoms. But by letting you freely roam across Teyvat they've essentially turned you into a mine charge—"
"No," Albedo cuts him off, because Il Dottore is wrong. He is wrong, his master couldn't have possibly known — no of course she knew, she created him — did she create Durin or did she use the same process as someone else — but why? — maybe she couldn't heal him herself — but why send him out — but why not make that his assignment? — but maybe this was part of the cure — but why risk the people of Mondstadt, Miss Alice regards her as a friend —
Il Dottore laughs at the interruption. "Thoughts?"
"No," Albedo repeats.
Il Dottore leans back with a mock confused look. "No? It would explain the sudden abandonment, would it not? Khaenri'ah is no friend to Teyvat. And when, say, the big full frontal dragon attack doesn't work, your best bet would be to take down the frontline from the inside, a trap at the weakest nation that will spread—"
"No...! You're... wrong..." Albedo chokes out, even if he knows it's useless. "You're... wrong... you're... wrong... Master... would not... do that..." To me, he wants to add, but he can't, he can't draw any more breath as the ones he already has have torn his lungs to the point of complete uselessness.
Il Dottore yawns at Albedo's waning mantra. "Oh, you're no fun. And here I thought you were supposed to be a rational sort..."
Albedo can't speak, he can barely force air through his throat, but he keeps trying to deny that horrible, horrible accusation. Il Dottore is a heartless imbecile and his accusations hold no more weight than those of a drunkard at Cat's Tail, they should hold no more weight yet Albedo keeps remembering bits and pieces that fit into the puzzle, little innocuous interactions that he's surely misconstruing — Master wouldn't—!
The door's lab opens with a faint groan, and Il Dottore's previous amusement vanishes. "What?"
"Possible intruders, Sir," the grunt quickly relays. "We spotted the group that was with the captive head this way—"
Albedo would suck in a breath if he could. While he's stuck here being a useless captive and listening to a madman's inane ramblings, the others must be searching for him. Sucrose would be worried sick; Paimon would be screaming her lungs out, Kaeya and Noelle would be the only level-headed people in their group; and Klee...
Il Dottore scoffs. "Ignore them! They'll probably end up scouting the mountains and get lost like all those useless Millelith."
"Sir, the Eleventh is with them—"
Albedo's eyes widen as he recalls the Harbinger in their travelling party. Il Dottore implied earlier that he acted without Childe being aware, but who's to say he cannot contact his fellow Harbinger to sabotage — to maim his group? The others are strong fighters and the Harbinger would be outnumbered, but he so easily sliced through Albedo with one swing... Hopefully his disappearance has made Childe enough of a suspect for the others to pre-emptively detain him, but the chance of no one getting hurt is slim...
"Still? Why is that idiot — Augh, nevermind!" Il Dottore drags his hand through his face. "Tartaglia has the intellectual capacity of a goldfish so I doubt he even remembers we have a base here, but just in case prepare for an emergency evacuation to HQ! And send out a couple of Ruin Guards to keep them busy!"
"Sir!" the grunt salutes, then scrambles out of the labs, shouting orders as they shut the door behind them.
Il Dottore rubs his eyes. "Well, I'm afraid we'll have to cut our little chat short — You!" he yells at a hapless assistant who freezes in place. "Grab all the sterile alchemical cloth you have and use that for the homunculus' transfer!"
Albedo lifts his head and frowns. A transfer will make it harder for his group to track him down, but it's risky for the Harbinger too. Normally it would present an excellent escape opportunity, but he is missing a leg while the rest of his body is hanging off sinews.
Il Dottore seems to share his sentiment, for he paces around in thought. "We just need to keep you properly contained... You don't seem to be able to regenerate at this stage, so cutting off the rest of the limbs would neutralise you enough..." He stops and gives a wide-eyed Albedo a mock pleading look. "Are you sure you don't want to be my lab assistant, Mr Homunculus?"
Albedo is too mutely horrified to answer.
Il Dottore waits for a few seconds, then grimaces. "But you also seem to be melting... You!" he yells at an underling now carrying multiple carpets' worth of fabric. "Ditch the cloth and get me the best quality kameras we have with all the roll you can hold!" The underling drops its carriage and makes a u-turn out of the lab. "And prep that rock crusher prototype at the engineering wing!"
Albedo jerks against the restraints, ignoring the dull throb at his shoulders. The manacles rattle, unyielding, but Albedo keeps thrashing against them. Even if his gestures are useless, even if they injure him further, he cannot allow that madman's plans for him to come to fruition.
He's going to be killed. Worse, he's going to be documented then killed, so that Il Dottore can make more of him, even if that goes against his Archon's will, perhaps even because of it. Albedo still believes the Harbinger will fail and fail and fail, but he's mad enough to keep trying. Even without his Master's notes, the alchemical markings on Albedo's back will give him enough of a head-start. And if he succeeds...
Il Dottore's words echo in the back of his mind. "You would be the perfect assistant, the perfect soldier, the perfect test subject."
And Albedo suddenly understands why his Master wanted the details of his creation to remain a secret. His Master... She took care of him, taught him to move and speak and write and perform alchemy, her steady hands moulded him with the same gentleness she'd done for so many others before him and Il Dottore is nothing like her, a vile man no less sane and cruel than the most depraved Abyssal monsters and the mere idea of him successfully creating someone like Albedo...
He cannot let this happen. He will not.
... And so, despite Albedo's best efforts, it all circles back to the same outcome. But, he is calm, the calmest he's been since the corruption took hold. There's a serenity in accepting the inevitable. He only wishes the others manage to take him down with minimal losses on their part. Hopefully, the Fatui here will put up enough of a fight. Even if he wanted to
A flash from behind startles Albedo out of his thoughts and his composure collapses. It's starting, and despite his decision, he's having second thoughts. Maybe there's still a way... If the others are on their way, maybe he just needs to buy enough time, and then just... the ritual may kill him, but there's a chance and he promised Klee, didn't he?
Dottore is busy yelling at some other unfortunate underling as everything not bolted to the floor is taken away. There are more flashes behind him, but Albedo ignores them as he gives his restraints a few experimental pulls. Hopefully, his wrists give out before his shoulders.
Albedo pulls himself up by the shoulder as much as the chain around his leg allows, then lets himself fall, at the same time pulling his leg up as hard as he can. The metal catches on his palm and ankle, but Albedo simply pulls back and yanks again, repeating the motion as hard as he can, and swaying with the little slack the manacle affords him. The grunt chides him to stop moving, but Albedo ignores him.
His left wrist gives out first, and Albedo sways wildly. His cut-off hand falls with a dull-thump as the rest of his arm swings down from inertia. The break is uneven, forming several sharp spikes. The underling photographing him lets out a surprised yell, but before he can do anything else, Albedo drives his broken arm into the wrist of his other. The sharpened chalk digs in at the already weakened forearm and when it breaks Albedo slams with his back against the table.
There are voices and noise around him, but Albedo ignores them, propping himself up and plunges his arms at his still restrained leg. He's more careful with the cut, as he needs to keep his balance well enough to move.
After his leg is freed, one of the assistants tries to grab him but freezes halfway, staring at the cracks of corruption across Albedo's body. His hesitation as he checks he's wearing gloves is all Albedo needs to push himself off the table.
He sways and collapses, his leg too injured and uneven to hold himself up. There's some unfinished construction in the lab, and a long thin beam sticks out of a small pile of rubble. Albedo rolls away from an attempt at grabbing him and grabs the beam before using it as a crutch to prop himself up by locking his elbow around it.
An assistant tries to grab him, but Albedo leans back against the wall for support and bats him away with the beam as if it's a staff. He spies a shelf by the far wall containing a small bundle of clothing — his clothes, Albedo realises, and probably his Vision too.
The underling he hit is writhing on the floor, but by now the others have taken note, and are reaching for their weapons. With no time left, Albedo hobbles towards the desk. If he can just get a hold of his Vision he can call upon a Geo construct to shield him, perhaps even pull up chalk from any existing veins and buy himself more time...
His clothing is within hand's reach when one of the grunts, at a loss for what else to do, grabs a stray tray and slams it at Albedo's face. Thin metal meets cracked but sturdy chalk, so the tray bends and Albedo momentarily halts. When the grunt looks at the deformed sheet of metal and pales, Albedo holds back a smile; as he told Il Dottore; he has faith in his Master's work.
Albedo pushes himself forward and collapses on the shelf, taking down the bundle of clothing with him. He curses his lack of hands as he digs blindly for his Vision — it is close enough that he can feel it but far away as to be unable to call upon it —
There's an air hiss from his side and something slams to his shoulder from the back, driving him to the floor. Albedo thinks he was kicked until he tries to move and feels something sharp digging at his shoulder. He looks up to see a strange cylindrical object with a spike at its ends and glowing with the power of Anemo just as an exact copy slams into his other shoulder, its spike digging deep enough to come out the other side.
Ah, he has not seen a weapon like this before. But no matter, impalement does not hurt him in the same way it would an ordinary human.
Albedo keeps digging through his clothes when one of the spikes rattles, still embedded in his shoulder. Cracks spread from where it's stuck and Albedo has no time to realise what it's doing before the cracks encircle his shoulder and the whole joint shatters.
Albedo lets out a mute yell, more out of shock than pain, as his arm falls away with a thin layer of dust. He tries to reach out only for the other spike to move as well and pull him back, dragging him to the other side of the lab like a fish cruelly pulled by its hook.
The freed spike cuts across the air and slams into Albedo's still intact shoulder from the front, just when the other spike retracts. It runs through the cracks made by its twin and deep enough into the floor to effectively pin him down.
Albedo tries to grab on the spike with an arm that's no longer there, but all that does is jolt the wound, spreading more cracks across his remaining shoulder and up his neck, so he goes limp. The other spike moves above him and Albedo only dares move his eyes as Il Dottore strolls to his side.
"Useless grunts, the lot of you!" the Harbinger mutters as he stops by Albedo. "Well, aren't you stubborn, Mr Homunculus."
Albedo does not answer.
Il Dottore sighs. "A shame. This would have gone much more smoothly had you cooperated."
Albedo can't speak, so he shakes his head, even if he doesn't know what he's trying to deny.
"Hah, still persisting! Truly extraordinary endurance!"
The Harbinger's tone is jovial, but Albedo now knows it's all fake and underlined by a horrible, horrible cruelty. One that he is starting to realise is not that uncommon in people, for what else could explain his creation?
It hurts. The man is insane and heartless. His words are too, but they have terribly sound logic behind them, one that answers many fundamental questions Albedo has about his existence. His assignment will remain unfulfilled, and that would normally eat away at his equivalent of a soul, but thanks to Il Dottore, he can perceive his absurd orders under a new disturbing light.
That must be why she left. Why he would never finish her last request. He deluded himself into wondering whether her assignment was a disguised wish for him to live a happy life, but now it was obvious those were the wistful hopes of a childlike caricature of humanity. How could he live a happy life with her gone? With the corruption bubbling in him, with his twin sealed in a frigid tomb, its corpse left unburied for centuries?
And she knew, she knows all that, doesn't she? She must, she created him. She knows everything there is to know about him.
In addition to his limbs, Albedo must be losing his mind as well, for Il Dottore's theory on his true purpose now seems the most probable. What's worse is that though he should not care about his Master's reasons for creating him, merely thinking about them hurts. It hurts so much but it doesn't make sense, yet his heart aches, his throat constricts.
Was his only option always destruction? Did he ever have an alternative?
The hovering spike moves above Albedo's head, aimed at his brain. "Fortunately for your Master's oh-so-brilliant work, I can keep damage to a minimum."
Albedo can't sob because his lungs lay tattered across his hollow chest, but why is it that he can't shed tears as well? Their absence hurts as well and nothing makes sense.
'... You're tired, brother,' comes Durin's soothing voice from the back of his mind as the last of his mental defences come down. 'And you hurt so much...'
Albedo is pinned in an underground lab facing certain death, but at the same time he's in a vast snowy landscape, his brother's form gently coiling around him, warm and reassuring. Despite everything, Durin feels like the only being who can understand him in this sorry state.
'Rest, brother. They won't hurt you again.'
So Albedo closes his eyes and dreams.
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When the homunculus' eyes roll to the back of its head, Il Dottore's grin falters. "Oi. You dead?"
His weapon hovers carefully down and butts the homunculus's head. It lolls to the side and Dottore wonders if it finally succumbed to its injuries — if that is even possible.
Still, he gets no response. The homunculus had bouts of unconsciousness while examined earlier, but in its current state Il Dottore would not be surprised if whatever critical systems are keeping it alive finally fizzled and died.
Ah, no matter. He still has so many things to do — though at this rate his best option will be to transport—
Il Dottore is suddenly tackled to the side. On cue, his freed weapon rushes to his side to impale the attacker, but Il Dottore stops at the sight of one of his grunts kneeling where he once was.
The Harbinger's face scrunches into a grimace. "You dolt, why did you—?"
The grunt lets out a hollow scream and writhes, just as Il Dottore notices a large patch of... something growing under the man. Dark and thick like tar, spreading through the cracks on the floor and originating from...
The grunt crumples into a heap as the dark mass congeals around him. It's pouring out of the homunculus like a spring, congealing around his form even if it eats at him. His cheeks are hollowed out and skeletal, but his missing arm and leg are replaced by coarse black and red imitations more reminiscent of a beast's limbs. The corruption climbs over dulled gold ribs, but merely coats them, the rest of his torso still hollow like a grim parody of a stripped anatomy model.
The homunculus opens his eyes and growls, staring blankly at the ceiling. His eyes have kept their teal colour, but the sclera has turned black, oozing out like the rest of the corruption across his body.
The captured grunt's form twists and breaks with horrible fleshy squelches. He retracts into his clothing, seemingly shrinking into a ball of flesh, bones sticking out and discarded, stripped bare better than what the best anatomist could accomplish.
Il Dottore blinks as another grunt tries to attack that nightmarish sight, but is quickly subsumed by the growing puddle of corruption. "Ah."
Very slowly, Il Dottore gets up.
The monster's eyes snap to him, so the Harbinger takes note of the lab's exit and runs for his life.
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Paimon groans as another Ruin Guard crumbles before them, joining its many brethren around it. "Augh, there's so many of them! But that must mean we're getting close, right?"
You nod as you hold on to their sword and scan the area. You've been here before with Childe and Teucer, but the memory seems so distant now. The vegetation is sparse, any remaining trees broken by the numerous Ruin Guards that litter the area — they've always been many here, but now they're as common as hilichurls.
"The entrance is around here," Childe says as he wipes the sweat from his brow. "There are more Ruin Guards around than usual though."
"A welcoming committee no doubt," Diluc grunts as he dislodges his sizzling claymore from the head of a Ruin Guard. "They must know we're coming."
"So we must hurry, right?!" Paimon asks, then hovers by your side and pulls them by their cape. You let her sway you, if only to help get her mind off things.
"Yeah, let's go!" Klee urges them on, already digging for a Jumpy Dumpty out of her backpack.
"A second if you don't mind," comes Zhongli's calm voice a few paces away. You stop and look back to see him observing a broken Ruin Guard, his hand on his chin.
"Is everything alright?" Noelle asks as she brings up the rear with Sucrose and Kaeya. "If anyone is injured, I have some food prepared..."
"Ah, thank you for your concern, Miss Noelle, but I am in perfect health," Zhongli says with a polite nod. "I was merely thinking. We do not know the layout of the area we're headed to. And considering we will be facing not just Fatui, but possibly..." He trails off meaningfully, then glances at Venti but quickly switches his gaze to Kaeya. "We've alerted the Millelith on our way here, so you should send word for the Knights of Favonius to gather their forces and prepare for the worst."
Kaeya's expression remains impassive, but on the other side of the group Diluc frowns and looks at the sky.
"Eh? Isn't that a bit of an overreaction?" Paimon asks. "Mondstadt's really far away, what can they do?"
"This is not so much about helping our current situation, but rather preparing for a worst-case scenario." Zhongli walks by another Ruin Grader and stares at the path ahead, where a row of trees were cut down by a single attack. "The Cataclysm caused by the corruption five hundred years ago plunged all the nations of Teyvat into chaos. In its aftermath, cities became little else than ruins, forests were razed and became desolate deserts, and the Dendro Archon lay dead." His gaze slowly moves to Childe, then back at you, and you can't help but feel there's much more left unsaid. "Not that the other Archons were left unscathed, physically or mentally."
"Hey!" a cheery voice breaks your reverie and you look up at Venti, at the top of some stairs by the side of a large cliff. "I think we found something, come see!"
Zhongli sighs at the interruption, but he merely pulls his hands to his back and follows along with the rest of the group with you. More ruins come into view as you ascend, and again the memory of Teucer running around excitedly looking for 'Mr Cyclops' comes into your mind.
Childe is a few steps ahead. He's been guiding you too, and he doesn't seem to be up to anything, but you don't know how far you can trust him. 'Il Dottore' is his colleague, a terrible man from how Diluc's face momentarily scrunches into a scowl whenever he's mentioned, but there doesn't seem to be any love lost between the Harbingers. Then again Childe lied to you once before, so who's to say...
Then again, you are not alone, and your adventuring party is even larger than usual. But if you have to fight...
"That looks like an entrance, doesn't it?" Noelle asks, and you follow her extended hand to a small chasm between rocks, bordered by large brass pipes snaking in and out of bedrock.
"Be on your guard," Diluc says as he grabs his claymore, the other's following his example.
Everyone crowds around the entrance, but no one enters yet. You move closer, as the entrance is dark and narrow. Perhaps it's your imagination, but there is something moving in the darkness...
A hiss is all the warning you get before something lunges at you, and it's only Kaeya's quick reflexes that he pulls you back by your cape as... something rushes out of the cavernous entrance.
To call what emerged a monster would be doing it a favour. You can't see it very well from your motion, so you only make out a hunched humanoid form and tattered clothing.
The creature growls and lunges at you again, but Noelle bats it away with the blunt side of her claymore and sends it crashing against the rock. The creature's head — an incomprehensible amalgamation of features that may have resembled a human once — cracks back against the stone and it goes limp in a tangle of limbs.
For a moment, everyone is too shocked to speak, staring at that cruel parody of life.
"What... is that...?" Diluc finally asks, clasping his claymore more out of comfort than hostility.
Zhongli's gaze remains steady as he takes a step closer to examine the creature. "Corruption."
Your eyes widen. You momentarily wonder if this is Albedo now, until you notice the creature's features — dark hair, tan skin, a large round build — no, they resemble more a Hydrogunner than the small blond alchemist. But if this person is not Albedo, and they were corrupted, then this means...
"No," Sucrose exhales.
Zhongli does not reply, merely switching his gaze to the dark entrance. "At this stage, the safest course of action would be to collapse the facility and bury it under the very mountain it's built under."
"But that would crush everyone inside!" Paimon exclaims. "Fatui or not, all these people..."
"Many more will die if we let the corruption spread any further."
"But then you'd just be burying it, right?" Venti speaks up, and this time Zhongli does look at him, though with a flinch of an emotion you don't recall ever seeing on the former Geo Archon. "It may contain it for some time, but the corruption would still spread underground, no?"
"Perhaps we're not in as much danger as you think." Kaeya adds. "It's unfortunate that we don't have any dedicated healers with us, but your and Miss Noelle's shields would provide more than enough protection, no?"
"Oh yes, I'll do my best to keep everyone safe, I swear by my oath!" Noelle emphatically says.
Zhongli stares at them, then back at the entrance. "... If the corruption is spreading, then we must be too late." Though his words are harsh, he looks none too pleased at saying them. "So now the question becomes what do we do if we reach Mr Albedo..."
Diluc's face darkens, but before he can speak, Klee jumps between them. "So that means we have to go in that spooky place to save big brother from the monsters!"
"Klee..." Noelle's smile falters as she opens her mouth to speak, then reconsiders. "Yes. Yes, we will. But, Albedo may be very hurt—"
"It's ok, big brother's really tough!" Klee confidently says. "And heavy! Even if he doesn't eat much..."
"That's the spirit!" Childe chirps and gives Klee a big smile. "Big brothers are tough like that."
"Yeah and we made a promise!"
"Ah, if that's the case, then we may not even need to rescue him!"
Klee laughs along with Childe, but you spy Kaeya leaning in to Noelle, who has stepped back from the conversation.
"Noelle."
"I know," the maid quickly whispers. "I can keep her back so she doesn't..." Her eyes glaze over and she wipes her eyes before looking away "Oh my, this is unbecoming of a maid. Excuse me for a moment."
"... This isn't right." Sucrose says, and though her voice is barely a whisper, it attracts everyone's attention besides Klee's and Childe's, the latter teaching the girl of a Snezhnayan saying about promises.
"What you are thinking, what you're planning, we can't!" Sucrose whispers, increasingly upset. "We can't k—" She cuts herself off with a glance at Klee. "We can't... do this to Mr Albedo. He doesn't... There has to be another way. Perhaps the ritual worked to an extent, so we simply need to find him and redo it—"
A sickening crunch comes from behind. You whip around to see the fallen creature shift, its limbs trashing like an upside-down turtle, until one finds purchase and tips it off the rock—
Diluc's vision gleams as he swings his sword, and the area around the creature is engulfed in fire. The cackle of the inferno covers up its screams as it burns up completely, the corruption bubbling and vaporising away as if it never existed.
As the nameless creature burns away, you wonder what — who it originally was. Were they a mere Fatui grunt? One of their elite units? Perhaps even the infamous Il Dottore, reduced to such a sad state?
"... You've read his opinion on the matter," Diluc evenly says to Sucrose as he stares at the burnt patch of ground.
"From what you've described of his character and what I have seen firsthand, I can imagine what that opinion is, and it is an admirable one," Zhongli interjects, and despite his youthful appearance, he sounds like an elderly man faced with the inevitability of fate. "We must not let it spread."
"But—!" Sucrose protests, and cuts herself off. Her face scrunches up as she thinks, but she doesn't speak. You think it's perhaps because she knows that the others' opinion is the most realistic.
Yet it does not sit well with you.
So, when you all enter the cave and Sucrose tugs at your sleeve to stay behind, you do so wordlessly without alerting everyone.
"What do you think?" Sucrose asks, her voice barely above a whisper. "This can't be right."
You hold back a sigh. You agree, but Diluc was right when he said this was what Albedo would want. Albedo is the one who knows most about this 'corruption' and if he thought that it was best for him to...
But you understand where Sucrose is coming from. She thinks highly of Albedo, and how could she not? Everyone in Mondstadt has a high opinion of their chief Alchemist, with Rosaria being the only exception — but you doubt she has a high opinion of anyone. But even Rosaria is content with merely observing, and if she was asked to come to their aid, you doubt she would hesitate. The people of Mondstadt are hospitable and kind, making even you feel like home. And if someone so dear to you was hurt in a similar way, with a grim fate awaiting them…
No, the thought is too much to bear.
"... I have an idea," Sucrose says, taking your silence as the answer she's looking for. "It's... I don't know if it will work, but we have to try."
Some of your sadness is washed away by an emerging curiosity. Sucrose is an accomplished alchemist as well, in bio-alchemy no less.
"When you fought Stormterr — Dvalin," she quickly corrects herself. "How did you heal his sickness?"
"Watcha talking about?" a cheerful voice loudly asks, and you turn around to see Venti peeking from a corner.
Sucrose yelps. "M-Mr Venti?! How long — what did you hear?"
"Ehe! Just about everything!" Venti shamelessly says before walking up to them and leaning conspiratorially towards Sucrose. "So, what's this super duper mysterious plan of yours?"
"Uh... It's..." Sucrose stumbles over her words.
You step between Venti and Sucrose to give her some breathing room. Venti gives you a quizzical look before he notices how flustered Sucrose has become and takes a step back, apologetic.
"Let me guess, you are thinking of trying to heal Albedo the same way you healed Dvalin, right?"
"Ah, how did you — yes more or less!" Sucrose says. "This is all on strict confidence so please don't mention any of this to anyone else, but... Mr Albedo has a similar idea as well."
She takes out a single piece of paper with some sparse writing. You recognise the handwriting as Albedo's from when you peaked at his notes back at Dragonspine.
"This... was sent to us by Master Jean, and she asked to keep it confidential within the Knights — there was some debate about whether to include you Traveller, I'm sorry we didn't tell you but in the end—"
You handwave Sucrose's apology to get her to continue.
"Don't worry, mum's the word!" Venti says, far too cheerful for the situation.
"Alright... so Mr Albedo already knew he may get sick one day, and he came up with a few possible solutions for us to use."
"Ah, so that's how he knew exactly what we should do when we found him!" Venti says. "Then again, it would suit Mondstadt's genius alchemist to come up with such a plan out of the blue!"
Sucrose smiles at Venti's praise, likely sharing his sentiment, before she sobers up. "I'm not sure why he didn't tell us. We could have prepared... Sorry, I'm getting sidetracked."
She hands you the paper and you glance at it, skim-reading through 'Master jean', 'Stormterror = Dvalin', 'Dvalin infected by Durin?' and 'Traveller'.
"Mr Albedo came up with many alternatives, and this one is less undeveloped, even if..." Her frown deepens but she shakes her head, "It's also very experimental, to the point where Mr Albedo didn't think it was a plan at all. But Master Jean sent it to us just as well." She looks at the paper with a small, fond smile, but her expression gradually falls. "Even with what happened earlier, I know they're trying to look out for as many people as possible, and it's only because Mr Albedo himself thinks..."
Her eyes well with tears. You place a hand on her shoulder, as she brushes the tears away. "Sorry, this is no time to get lost in my own feelings. What I meant to ask you is whether you would be willing to try to heal Mr Albedo's corruption? He has indicated a few spots where the elemental flow would be easier, so you would need to touch him in any of these spots. It'll be tricky, but if anyone can do it, it'll be you Traveller."
You quickly nod, as you think back to Albedo's own experiments with you in Dragonspine. There's no doubt that Albedo didn't lie about his results or his reasons, but was there a secret omitted component to them as well? He must have heard about your fight with Dvalin beforehand. You're not sure what his connection to Durin is, but it's becoming obvious he is hiding a lot of things, but not because of malice.
"I think it's a great idea!" Venti adds after a few moments of silence, and you realise they may have misinterpreted your nod and silence as 'I'll think about it' than acceptance.
"Huh? Really?!" Sucrose asks.
"This worked with Dvalin, did it not? If one of the Four Winds could be healed from the corruption, I do not see why this shouldn't work on Albedo," Venti says as he gives you a wink. "But I do want you to keep safe, Traveller."
"Yes, me too!" Sucrose quickly asks. "I wouldn't ask you to put yourself in danger if there was any other option—!"
Sucrose cuts herself off, realising that this 'other option' was what the rest of the group will be operating under. But before she can correct herself, you grab her hand and give her a reassuring nod.
Sucrose's face brightens up even when tears well in her eyes again. Venti is smiling as well, and you wonder if that is why he chose to accompany them, or if he knows something more about Albedo that he is keeping to himself.
Well, this doesn't matter, because once this is all said and done, you will ask Albedo himself.
\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/
Sucrose MVP 3
Also, I also want to present Rhinedottir as a morally grey character throughout all this. She was cold to Albedo and gave him abandonment issues, but at the same time she did try to take care of him best as she could (not that she did that well), while struggling with the fact that she did create another homunculus (which again I'm assuming is v difficult seeing as there's not a bunch of Albedos running around Teyvat/the Abyss). Basically:
Rhinedottir: I will create life.
Albedo: :)
Rhinedottir, sweating: ... I'm not sure what I expected.