"Wait, but wouldn't that mean-"

"Like Morax! Hi Morax!" Barbatos dropped Xingqiu's waist by several inches as he emphatically waved to Zhongli. Logically he knew he wouldn't fall, Barbatos wouldn't let him, but his heart stammered anyway.

If a fall from the height alone didn't kill him, then crashing with the chaos below certainly would. Beneath him, enormous boulders collided according to an unseen force; like lemons in a strainer monsters imploded in bursts of blood and viscera. The rocks continued to grind and reset until they formed a perfectly rectangular pillar.

Unstained, Zhongli rose to their height upon his obelisk of death. It pulsed with geo energy that staved the crowds below, though they recovered quickly. Rex Lapis scowled and folded his arms in disapproval.

"You didn't need to frighten him like this."

"He was going to find out anyway! Isn't it better for him to know the whole field?"

"Nevermind," he pinched the bridge of his nose, "something's disrupting the ley lines. If we don't act soon, any mortal within our radius will be endangered. Vision-wielding or not."

"So we head to the source." Rex Lapis nodded,

"I'll clear the path before the Gorge. Remember, if we find the Fatui-"

"We want one alive. Yeah, yeah, got it." For some reason, his god looked to him.

"I apologize, Young Master. It was not my intention that you see me- us, this way. Fight well. I trust we will speak later." He leapt and forced the ground to meet him halfway; massive spikes of granite punctured the grass and surged upwards. The pillar crumbled to his will in an instant, and it crushed more beneath a crimson, earthen rain.

Barbatos took flight again in silence, and he expertly maneuvered them between rising arrows, cannon balls, bursts of energy, and even flinging spears. He swooped through the cloud line and dispelled his wings, calling the winds to guide them the rest of the way.

"Brace yourself." They dive bombed the Gorge and plummeted alongside the rain. The Fatui gathered beneath an arch of lifeless trees like cultists; they dug glaring red text deep within the bark, and they reveled beneath their shroud of necrosis like demented puppets. His own vision was a mere blink amongst the tumultuous scene.

"Throw me!" Barbatos didn't even question him, and he certainly didn't spare him any strength. Xingqiu shot across the field like a bullet, and he kicked an oblivious agent on his way to the ground. He drew his sword and slashed forward, and surprisingly his enemy managed to parry the attack. His blade scraped along a hooked knife. He pulled back his blade. It locked in the knife's crevice.

The agent slashed with a second blade across his chest opening a deep gash across his sternum. It burned as it sliced, and he gritted his teeth as he yanked free. Gunshots echoed in the wind as pyro infused bullets whistled past his ears. One briefly singed his hair, but he couldn't afford to panic.

He swung across the agent's waist, lacerating his stomach deeply. He sidestepped a cicin mage's lighting chain and swung again. He crossed the previous strike, and intestines puddled against the subsequent opening. They spilled forth and the agent fell with them.

Until now he had only fought monsters. Hilichurls, mages. A memory of a person long gone. This was the first time he killed. This was the first life he stole. He couldn't dwell on it.

Electro cicins buzzed against his ears, the hair on his back stood as the mage teleported behind him in a flash. He pivoted while arching his blade and struck her with an identical swing, his legs jerking against the electricity that permeated the water. He killed her as well, and his body kept moving. He gained a step forward.

Several hundred meters before him, an abyss lector levitated at the center of a summoning circle. Like a rip in a seam, a portal split against the midnight sky. A hissing machine appeared to maintain it, and hundreds of fighters, shielded by an illusion of the past, bared their weapons. A chill wormed its way down his spine in response to a feeling he couldn't place; it felt dark somehow.

Bitterly he realized Chongyun would definitely have figured it out by now, and he would thrive in this rain. Unlike him. Doused in his own element, he was Teyvat's perfect cryo target, and shoot him, the mages certainly did. Volleys of ice lanced across his upper chest and legs, pinning him to the squelching grass. He struggled to break free. He felt like he was buried in drying cement, and it only grew heavier the harder he resisted.

He finally broke free the moment a hilichurl leapt to pierce his upper chest. The weapon impaled his shoulder, and distantly he wondered if this is how his brother felt. The sinews of his muscles split into strands like a torn thread, and they twisted along the weapon's handle. The sight alone nearly made him vomit.

He swallowed and pierced the monster's chest, before it got the chance to reclaim its spear. Hot blood frothed beneath his skin with the rushing adrenaline, and without thinking he bent the rain to his will. Chongyun's spirit blade always had more girth than his skinny, agile Guhua swords; he imitated that and summoned a crushing claymore. The weapon splurged outwards before it hit the ground, temporarily blinding the people in its vicinity. While they recovered, he slashed their pressure points and pierced their vitals. Killing quickly, as mercifully as one really could.

It didn't make him feel any better. He gained another step. He fanned water, he sliced like he was trudging through a forest's underbrush, he spun, sidestepped, and tiptoed around the piercing thorns. Gaining confidence, he risked a full flip which earned him several meters of progress. Everything was as he practiced.

His mind initiated each movement, but his muscles needed no further direction. The hissing of the machine grew louder like the screaming of a teapot, and just when he thought he could strike the lector, another agent skinned his thigh. All he needed was to distract them. If he stopped the ritual, the others could catch up and finish the job. Or so he thought.

He glanced down. He saw bone. The sacrificial knife had slashed through his quadricep. The agent hooked his flesh and ripped outward. So much blood burst across the lector that the fluid dynamics matched that of his vision. He made the mistake of putting weight on it, and agonizing pain shot through his entire body. He collapsed.

His vision pulsed against his hip, draining the moisture from the ground beneath him, and water folded outwards in a solid bubble. Electricity crackled, chipping the shield like he was one of those chocolate covered ice creams they served at Wanmin. He didn't even know if stopping the lector would do anything, but if he was going to die he was going to make it worth his while.

With the last of his strength, he summoned a Guhua sword and threw it outwards, praying it struck its target based only on a memory of where the lector last stood. The shield smashed and split off into liquid shards. A heeled boot collided with his chest wound. He cried. Silently, even though no one would hear him anyway.

The cruel thing about death was that he didn't get to choose when it happened. Only the circumstances around it. He was going to die without a lot of firsts. His first time in Mondstadt, or anywhere else for that matter. His first best selling novel. His first time teaching the Guhua arts. His first kiss.

A couple days ago everything was normal. Gray and meaningless, but normal. He heard a man shout. Even in the rain, even in the tearing wind, a phoenix of flame sailed across the field. Blissful heat crossed over him, and a strange man in a mask knelt beside him, shouting something unintelligible. He thought he saw a dragon, or did he?

"Xingqiu, you have to stay with me!" An explosion of earth, fire, and wind sent the man's hair flying, and he wrapped his arms around him, shielding him from the blast. It was warm. It was safe. It smelled like wine and cologne. His ears rang, and he couldn't hear anyone even though he saw their mouths moving.

Why was Master Diluc crying? They hardly knew each other. Zhongli, or no, Morax pointed at someone. An enormous white wing covered them all like a canopy, and Barbatos removed his cape. Morax immediately wrapped Xingqiu's leg with it until it throbbed, and a gentle breeze freed the hair from his face. Ice pressed into his shoulder.

Someone pulled the spear from his arm, and a glowing, golden hand pressed into the tear in his muscles. He went entirely numb as if sedated, but he fought to stay awake. Diluc told him to stay with him. He could do that. Morax lifted him, and his face actually portrayed emotion. Surely he didn't matter this much? Especially to the gods.

Morax carefully pressed his body into Barbatos' arms as if he might shatter, and he watched the feathers flutter by.