Venti, Aether, and the enigmatic Momon slipped away from the bustling streets of Mondstadt. Their destination lay southwest, following the winding path that led to the illustrious Dawn Winery. Jean, the stalwart Acting Grand Master, had discreetly suggested this route. Her connection with a particular individual at the winery, forged through recent collaborations addressing the city's dragon predicament, made it a strategic rendezvous point.
The Dawn Winery is the chief winery in Mondstadt and specializes in Dandelion Wine. Owned by the Ragnvindr Clan for several generations, its current owner, Diluc, inherited it four years ago after the untimely passing of his father, Crepus.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm cascade of colors across the sky, the trio reached their destination—the Dawn Winery. The last rays of daylight painted the landscape in hues of gold and amber as the shadows lengthened. At the entrance of the winery stood a solitary figure, a tall man with piercing eyes and a mane of fiery red hair. Clad in dark attire that seemed to absorb the fading sunlight, he awaited their arrival in front of his residence.
As the group approached, the red-haired man extended a courteous greeting. "Good evening and welcome," he said, his voice measured and composed.
"Good evening, Diluc. Allow me to present the Honorary Knights: Aether, Momon, and Paimon. And this charming bard here is Venti," Jean introduced the party, her tone conveying both respect and formality.
Diluc's eyes flickered with recognition as he acknowledged Venti."Yeah, I know that one. Are you planning to settle the tab for that bottle you helped yourself to three days ago?" he inquired, crossing his arms in a stance that exuded both authority and irritation.
Venti, undeterred by the accusation, responded with a mischievous grin. "Oh, you caught that, did you? Fear not, Master Diluc, for I come bearing reparations – a performance at the tavern, perhaps?" he declared, his cheerful expression contrasting with the sternness of Diluc's demeanor.
"Is that your idea of compensation?" Diluc uttered, his annoyance evident in the subtle furrow of his brows.
"Absolutely," Venti replied with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Consider it my way of adding a touch of melody to Mondstadt's finest establishment."
Diluc shook his head, an annoyed smirk playing on his lips. "You better make it worth it, bard."
Diluc's gaze lingered on each member of the Honorary Knights, his scrutiny assessing the weight of their words. "The Honorary Knights... your heroic deeds have indeed become a topic of conversation, even reaching beyond the borders of Mondstadt."
Jean nodded, her tone resolute. "And tonight, if we successfully handle Dvalin, there will be even greater tales sung about the bravery of these heroes."
Momon, with a humble demeanor, spoke up. "Jean, Master Diluc, we're not seeking fame. Whether it was destiny or mere chance, we found ourselves in Mondstadt when the dragon attacked. We didn't choose this, but we've accepted the quest and are determined to see it through to the end."
Aether chimed in, reinforcing their commitment. "We're not bound to Mondstadt, but we took up the mission, and we're invested in unraveling the mysteries surrounding it."
Venti, ever the whimsical bard, interjected with a grin. "And that, my friends, is what makes you heroes! Willing to dive headfirst into the unknown to aid the innocent, whether by fate or choice."
"Right, our next destination is Stormterror's lair," declared Jean, her steely gaze focused on the formidable challenge that lay ahead.
Diluc raised an eyebrow, his concern evident in the furrow of his brows. "Stormterror's lair? Isn't that place sealed off by a storm barrier?"
Venti, ever the showman, stepped forward, revealing the Holy Lyre der Himmel. "Fear not, Master Diluc! We have this beauty right here—a secret weapon to dispel those storms and open the way to Stormterror's lair."
Diluc's eyes widened as he recognized the lyre. "Wait a minute. Isn't that the Holy Lyre der Himmel? The one the Fatui were after? I thought it was stolen."
Venti chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Ah, you've heard the rumors, have you? Well, rest assured, it's safe and sound in our hands. No Fatui mischief here."
Diluc sighed in relief. "Good to know. Just be careful with that thing. It's caused enough trouble already."
The group pressed on along the path leading to Stormterror's lair, navigating through a canyon corridor that whispered with the secrets of the winds. As they delved deeper, the tranquility of the surroundings was shattered by the sudden appearance of a small force of enemies.
Hilichurls, the feral inhabitants of the land, noticed the group and charged recklessly, their wild cries echoing through the canyon walls.
"Prepare for confrontation!" Jean's voice rang out, a rallying cry as the hilichurls charged wildly.
Diluc, a tempest of swift motion, leaped into action. In mid-air, he executed a precise rotation, his powerful landing crushing two hilichurls beneath him. Harnessing the element of fire, he engulfed two more in searing flames with a swift elemental skill.
"HAAAH!" Aether, harnessing the power of the elements, unleashed a formidable tornado that swept up the remaining hilichurls. The creatures were flung in different directions with incredible speed, meeting their demise in the tumultuous winds.
"Great job, everyone. We are almost there," Venti praised, his words carrying a lightness that contrasted with the fading echoes of battle.
As the group reached the path's end, the storm barrier loomed before them, a tempestuous force crackling with elemental energy.
"Alright, my turn now." Venti, the maestro with the Holy Lyre der Himmel, played a mesmerizing tune. The storms yielded to the enchanting melody, unveiling a breathtaking scene—the serene night sky and the ancient city.
In the heart of the majestic Brightcrown Mountains, Stormterror's Lair stands as a haunting testament to the ancient glory of Old Mondstadt. This once vibrant capital, ruled by the formidable God of Storms, Decarabian, now lies in ruins, its grandeur overshadowed by the relentless passage of time and the destructive force of the mighty dragon, Stormterror.
Momon stood among the group, his gaze fixed upon the breathtaking sight that unfolded beyond the dispersed storm barrier. The ancient city lay sprawled beneath the serene night sky, its architectural marvels and enigmatic beauty captivating his attention.
The scene evoked a sense of familiarity within him, a reminiscent connection to another grandiose entrance—the mighty gateway of the Great Tomb of Nazarick. The memories of that colossal structure, with its imposing presence and untold secrets, resonated in Momon's mind. The juxtaposition of the ancient city before him and the recollections of the tomb stirred a mix of awe and curiosity.
As they approach the lair, the air becomes charged with an eerie energy, and the landscape transforms into a surreal dreamscape of towering cliffs and jagged peaks shrouded in mist. The remnants of Old Mondstadt's architecture peek through the overgrowth, telling tales of a civilization that once thrived under the watchful gaze of the God of Storms.
The lair itself is nestled within the craggy expanse, a colossal cavern veiled by cascading waterfalls that add a mystical ambiance to the surroundings. The entrance, flanked by ancient statues weathered by centuries of wind and rain, hints at the once-glorious entrance to the capital city.
Jean led the group towards the entrance of Stormterror's Lair with determination in her eyes. "This is it! We are now entering Stormterror's Lair! Let's move."
As they approached the bridge leading to the great tower, Momon couldn't help but be curious about the history surrounding them. "What happened here?"
Venti, with a hint of solemnity, began to unveil the ancient tale. "This is the old Mondstadt, Momon. It was constructed 2600 years ago by Decarabian, the God of Storms. A ruler with an iron fist, he held Mondstadt in his ruthless grasp. However, the people eventually rebelled, and they succeeded in overthrowing and killing him."
Momon raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Killed by his own people? That's quite a feat. How can a god be killed by mortals? There must have been someone else as strong as him." He cast a discerning gaze at Venti, half-expecting the bard to reveal his involvement in the ancient conflict.
Venti chuckled, an enigmatic smile playing on his lips. "Ah, the mysteries of history. Well, my dear Momon, gods can indeed be formidable, but sometimes, it's the strength of mortal will that prevails. The people of Mondstadt found strength within themselves to break free from oppression" He winked playfully.
As the group approached the bridge leading to the tower, a sudden upheaval in the air caught them off guard. A massive tornado materialized out of nowhere, blocking their path. Paimon clung tightly to Aether, while Jean instinctively grasped Momon's arm.
"Mom, you aren't budging an inch!" Jean exclaimed, surprised by Momon's remarkable resilience against the raging tornado.
"Just hold yourself there, Jean," Momon calmly replied.
The tornado dissipated suddenly, leaving in its wake the imposing figure of Stormterror himself. Dvalin landed on the bridge with a growl, his presence sending a shiver down the group's collective spine.
"Dvalin… You are suffering," Venti observed, a hint of sorrow in his voice.
"You have come… What has been done cannot be undone… BARBATOS!" Dvalin's voice echoed with a mixture of anguish and anger.
Diluc turned his gaze towards Jean, a realization dawning in his eyes. She understood the unspoken concern. The drunk bard of his tavern was none other than Barbatos, the Anemo Archon. Diluc would need to find a way to make amends for his unintentional disrespect towards his own god, a revelation that might reshape his perspective on the divine.
"Dvalin, I've come to help you!" Venti called out, his voice filled with a mix of urgency and determination.
But before the dragon could respond, a sinister presence manifested – an Abyss Mage emerged from the shadows, intent on disrupting their noble mission. With a chilling Cryo attack, the mage struck the Holy Lyre, damaging its sacred form. Venti, caught off guard, was pushed back, witnessing the Anemo power dissipate from the once-holy instrument.
"Do not be fooled by him, dear dragon," the Abyss Mage hissed, manipulating the situation to further enrage Dvalin. "He left you to rot alone! Now he attempts to deceive you once more."
"BARABATOS!" Dvalin growled.
"BARBATOS!" Dvalin's growl resonated through the air, his anger palpable.
Venti, resolute in his determination to mediate, stepped forward. However, Aether and Momon surged past him, advancing toward the enraged dragon. Aether's voice cut through the tension, calm yet unwavering, "Remember us, Dvalin?"
"You... You brought them here to slay me, Barbatos?!" Dvalin's fury reverberated in his voice.
"Yes! Yes! This is how he's trying to put a leash on you, dear dragon!" the Abyss mage jeered, further fanning the flames of anger.
"Enough… [Lightning]!" Momon's command echoed, and a bolt of lightning crackled forth from his fingertips, aimed unerringly at the Abyss mage.
"GYYAAAAAAHH!" The Abyss mage, attempting to activate his shield, was caught off guard. In a flash, the relentless lightning reduced the monstrous figure to mere dust, dispersing the threat in an instant. The air crackled with the aftermath of the potent attack, leaving a charged silence in its wake as the group faced the enraged Dvalin.
"You overgrown lizard, turning against your own master—have you no sense of loyalty or shame?" Momon taunted Dvalin with a sinister edge to his voice.
Dvalin roared, "I will crush you, insignificant human!" He raised his hand, ready to squash Momon like a bothersome insect. Aether swiftly used the wind current to evade the impending blast. However, Momon didn't retreat; instead, he confronted Dvalin head-on.
As Dvalin's massive blow descended, Momon did the unthinkable—he stopped it effortlessly with just his hand. The ground shook with the force, leaving everyone, including Jean, in stunned silence.
Jean, having closed her mouth in shock, couldn't believe her eyes. She had thought Momon was crushed, but there he stood, unharmed and seemingly unfazed.
"No way! How did Momon stop that?!" exclaimed Paimon, her high-pitched voice echoing the disbelief shared by everyone present.
"Seriously, that man has super strength, and here I was underestimating him in my thoughts a moment ago," Diluc muttered under his breath, a mix of awe and disbelief in his tone.
As Diluc grappled with the newfound understanding of Momon's abilities, Jean stood frozen, her mind racing. The truth was far more terrifying than she could have imagined. Momon wasn't just an exceptionally skilled warrior; he was something else entirely, an enigma hidden beneath the ominous mask and hood.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she took a step back, her eyes locked on Momon. The air around them seemed to crackle with an otherworldly energy, and Jean couldn't shake the feeling that she was in the presence of a force beyond her comprehension.
"So, you are one of the Four Winds, huh? I'm getting disappointed," Momon taunted, his voice carrying a mocking tone that fueled the flames of Dvalin's rage.
"You have a death wish!" Dvalin, undeterred by Momon's words, growled menacingly. The air crackled with energy as he unleashed a barrage of Pulse Bombs, each detonation sending shockwaves through the battlefield. However, Momon remained unscathed as he effortlessly dodged and weaved through the explosions.
Without warning, Momon raised his hand, and a powerful magic surged forth. "[Widen Magic - Wall of Skeletons]!"
A colossal wall of skeletons materialized, separating Momon from Dvalin. The bones formed an eerie barrier, blocking the Pulse Bombs and leaving Dvalin to face an onslaught of skeletal warriors armed with spears and swords.
Dvalin roared, his scales gleaming as he unleashed his fury upon the skeletal horde. Like a wild beast, he swiped and crushed the skeletons with his claws, their bones shattering under the immense force. Yet, the relentless tide pressed on, and Dvalin found himself ensnared in a macabre dance of death.
The massive wall, once a shield, now became a weapon turned against Dvalin. Spears and swords penetrated his scales, cutting through his protective skin. The dragon roared in pain, but his resilience kept him fighting, determined to break free from the skeletal onslaught.
Momon watched the spectacle with a twisted satisfaction, his mysterious powers revealing depths that left even the mighty Dvalin struggling.
"RAAAAAHHHH!" Dvalin's mighty roar echoed across the battlefield as he soared into the sky, shaking off the clinging skeletons that had embedded themselves in his scales. The dragon's eyes glowed with renewed determination as he prepared for the next assault.
Meanwhile, Aether, undeterred by the previous chaos, continued to assail Dvalin with a barrage of Anemo attacks, preventing the dragon from fully recovering. Each strike was precise, exploiting any opening and keeping the pressure on the mighty creature.
In response, Dvalin turned to face Aether and unleashed a devastating breath attack, a torrent of Anemo energy aimed directly at the intrepid traveler. The powerful gust threatened to overwhelm Aether, but before disaster could strike, Momon intervened.
"[Shield Wall]!" Momon's commanding voice echoed through the air, and an invisible barrier manifested around Aether like a protective cocoon. The Anemo breath collided with the unseen shield, creating a dazzling display of swirling energies as the two forces clashed.
Aether stood unharmed within the shelter of the shield, his eyes meeting Dvalin's as the dragon roared in frustration. Momon's spell had proven to be a crucial defense, shielding Aether from the full force of Dvalin's elemental onslaught.
Venti's heart sank as he watched Dvalin struggle against the overwhelming force driving him to self-destruction. "Dvalin, please stop hurting yourself!" he pleaded, the pain evident in his voice. The once free-spirited Anemo Archon now felt the weight of responsibility for the suffering of his dear friend.
"I will destroy you all!" Dvalin's response was a roar of defiance, his elemental power gathering for another devastating Anemo attack. The air crackled with energy, and destruction loomed on the horizon.
But Momon, the enigmatic figure standing in the midst of the chaos, remained unfazed. He spoke with an air of chilling confidence, "You want to destroy us but can't get past me? You need to chill and listen to your god."
Dvalin's fury intensified at Momon's words. "You! You monster!" he shouted, his anger echoed in the trembling ground.
Momon, however, responded with a cryptic "Huh..."
Confusion gripped everyone on the battlefield, their attention drawn to the exchange between Dvalin and Momon. Only Dvalin, in his draconic perception, saw something that sent shivers down his spine. A dark wind enveloped Momon, unseen by the others, an ominous force capable of snuffing out life. Momon wasn't just a formidable opponent; he was a monstrous entity, a threat not only to the Four Winds but possibly even to the Anemo Archon himself.
The revelation hung heavy in the air, a chilling realization that the true nature of Momon went far beyond what anyone had anticipated. As the battle unfolded, the line between friend and foe blurred, and the fate of Mondstadt hung in the balance, caught in the grips of an unforeseen and formidable adversary.
With a ferocious roar, Dvalin lunged toward Momon, his massive form charging with a speed that belied his size. Opening his gargantuan mouth, the dragon aimed to devour Momon in one swift motion. Yet, unbeknownst to the enraged beast, Momon had already enacted a silent spell, scattering Poison Mines strategically around Dvalin.
As the dragon closed in, the hidden mines detonated in a series of thunderous explosions. The cavern shook with the force, and horrified gasps echoed among the onlookers. Flames and toxic fumes enveloped Dvalin, distorting the once majestic creature into a silhouette of torment.
The aftermath of the battle left a heavy silence hanging in the air, broken only by Venti's desperate scream as Dvalin, the once-mighty dragon of the Four Winds, fell victim to Momon's cunning tactics. The Poison Mines exploded in a devastating display, and Dvalin's colossal form crumpled on the bridge before slipping off its edge.
"DVALIN!" Venti's cry echoed through the desolation, his desperation palpable as he rushed to aid his fallen friend.
The onlookers, including Jean and Diluc, stood in stunned shock. The battle had unfolded in a way none of them had anticipated. Momon had proven to be a force beyond imagination, turning the tides with a calculated ruthlessness that left Mondstadt's defenders questioning the nature of their supposed ally.
Jean, grappling with conflicting emotions, turned to Diluc to seek guidance. "Diluc, what do you think?" she asked, her voice laden with uncertainty. The warrior, known for his strategic insight, might hold the key to understanding the enigmatic being they had allied with.
Diluc's expression was grim as he surveyed the scene. "I think we are lucky that he is on our side..." he mused, his words carrying the weight of realization. Momon's power, though unsettling, had tipped the scales in their favor. But the cost, the sacrifice of a once-loyal ally, raised unsettling questions about the nature of their alliance.
Without waiting for further discussion, Diluc sprinted towards the fallen Dvalin. Jean watched him go, left alone with her thoughts and the haunting question of whether the battles of the past had been as brutal and morally complex as the reality they now faced. The hero she had envisioned looked more like a complicated figure, and the thin line between ally and adversary blurred in the aftermath of this unexpected confrontation.
As Venti jumped off the bridge, what met his gaze was a heart-wrenching scene. Dvalin, once a majestic and proud dragon, now writhed in agony below. The Poison Mines had taken their toll and the once vibrant scales that adorned the dragon's majestic form darkened with the insidious effects of the poison.
Miserable sounds of pain echoed through the abyss as Dvalin struggled against the poison's relentless advance. Each moment seemed to intensify the suffering etched across the dragon's features. The air resonated with the anguished cries of a creature brought low by the very forces it had unwittingly unleashed upon itself.
Venti, normally carefree and whimsical, felt a heavy weight settle in his chest. Guilt and sorrow gripped him as he witnessed the consequences of the conflict he had found himself entangled in. The wind dragon's suffering was a stark reminder of the delicate balance between power and responsibility.
The others, too, stared down in somber silence, their earlier triumph now overshadowed by the cruel reality of Dvalin's torment.
Momon and Aether approached the suffering dragon, their steps measured and purposeful, akin to angels of death. Diluc and Paimon, understanding the gravity of the situation, parted the way for them. However, Venti, unwilling to stand idly by, raised his arms like a protective shield in front of his friend.
"Momon, please, that's enough. Dvalin is going to die at this point!" Venti pleaded, desperation lacing his voice.
Momon, his masked gaze unwavering, halted in response to Venti's plea. The air hung heavy with tension as the wind dragon confronted the enigmatic figure before him. The bridge, a witness to the clash of powers, seemed to quiver with the uncertainty of the moment.
"Alright, but how do you plan to remove the poison?" Momon questioned, his tone revealing the practicality that underscored his actions.
Venti felt a sinking realization that he had no answer to Momon's query. The unknown magic unleashed upon Dvalin had taken a severe toll, and the dragon's condition continued to worsen with each passing second. The once vibrant scales now bore the stain of the poisonous assault, and Venti grappled with the weight of his decisions. The dilemma of how to save Dvalin, and whether it was even possible, loomed over them like a dark cloud.
Momon strode past Venti, determination etched beneath the mask that concealed his expression. The once-majestic Dvalin lay on the brink of death, his scales marred by the effects of the poison. Momon, however, remained resolute in keeping the promise of sparing the dragon's life. As he reached out, placing his hand upon the dragon's ailing form, a gentle light emanated from his fingertips, casting a soothing glow upon the wounded creature.
"[Heal]," Momon intoned, his voice carrying a calm authority.
In a matter of seconds that felt like an eternity, the Old Mondstadt was filled with a miraculous transformation. Dvalin's body once twisted in agony, began to glow with renewed vitality. The scales, once darkened and tainted, gradually returned to their original luster. The poisonous blood clots that had coagulated on his wounds dissipated into nothingness.
The onlookers, including Venti and the others, stood in stunned silence. In the span of a mere heartbeat, Momon had mended the devastation wrought upon the once-dying dragon. The Old Mondstadt, once a battlefield of conflict and despair, now bore witness to a breathtaking resurrection. Words failed those who had witnessed the seemingly impossible, and the air itself seemed to hold its breath in awe.
Dvalin slowly raised his head, his eyes meeting Momon's. "Why?" confusion and gratitude intertwined in his voice as he questioned the dark warrior who had unexpectedly saved him. The air was heavy with uncertainty as Dvalin couldn't fathom why his apparent slayer had a sudden change of heart.
"A promise is a promise. If it wasn't for him..." Momon's gaze shifted toward Venti, and a veiled threat lingered in his words. "I would have ended you without a shred of mercy."
Dvalin, torn between relief and lingering suspicion, wasn't sure how to process the revelation. It felt like a precarious balance, and the realization that another chance had been granted left him grappling with the weight of his actions.
Venti approached, concern etched across his features. "How do you feel, Dvalin?" he inquired, genuine worry evident in his voice.
"Much better... Barbatos... just now... why? Why did you not ask me to protect you like the last time?" Dvalin questioned, seeking understanding.
"Not wanting you to heed the Abyss Order doesn't mean you have to follow my every command," Venti responded with a somber wisdom. "True freedom, especially when demanded by an Archon… isn't genuine freedom at all," Venti explained, offering a profound perspective on the nature of true liberty.
To seal the dragon's recovery, Venti conjured a spheric elemental Anemo energy, passing it to Dvalin. The dragon's body glowed with revitalized power, and he returned to his majestic, glorious form.
"This truly is the power of the Anemo Archon!" Dvalin exclaimed as his wings unfurled, catching the currents of wind that carried the essence of freedom. With a mighty launch, he soared into the sky, embracing the winds of liberation once more.
Venti watched with a mixture of relief and joy as Dvalin soared into the night sky, his massive wings cutting through the darkness. The wind dragon's majestic form against the backdrop of the starlit heavens resembled a proud father witnessing his son's triumphant flight.
At that moment, any lingering tension or uncertainty dissipated, replaced by a sense of accomplishment and unity. The bond between Venti, the Anemo Archon, and Dvalin, the guardian dragon, transcended the complexities of their respective roles. It was a silent understanding, a connection that surpassed the expectations and demands placed upon them.
The night embraced the dragon's flight, and Venti couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at witnessing Dvalin's freedom. The echoes of their shared journey resonated in the night air, a testament to the resilience of friendship and the enduring power of the wind that carried them both.
Aether couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment as he watched Dvalin soar freely into the sky. "That must feel incredible... To soar through the skies in harmony with yourself," he remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice.
"Hehe, mission accomplished!" Paimon chimed in with uncontainable joy, floating beside Aether.
"I had envisioned this mission unfolding in various ways, but certainly not like this," Jean admitted, her eyes reflecting a mix of surprise and gratitude. "As the Acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius, I speak on behalf of Mondstadt's people – we are forever indebted to you, Honorary Knights! Thank you for safeguarding our beloved country." With a solemn gesture, Jean placed her hand upon her chest and bowed her head respectfully.
Diluc, ever the reserved one, expressed his gratitude succinctly. "Your assistance has been invaluable. Thank you,"
Venti, the lively bard, couldn't contain his excitement. "Ohoho, I can't wait to compose ballads about your heroic exploits echoing through the city! The entire realm of Teyvat will resound with the tales of your mighty names!" His eyes sparkled with the anticipation of crafting a ballad that would echo through the realms, immortalizing the bravery of those who had saved Mondstadt.
A day had elapsed since the climactic battle with Stormterror. In the wake of the tumultuous events, Jean and Diluc took it upon themselves to enlighten the citizens of Mondstadt, divulging every detail from the loss of the Holy Lyre to the triumphant vanquishing of the dragon. The city resonated with admiration for the newfound heroes, and the streets echoed with praise.
The newfound fame translated into a flood of Mora cascading into Aether and Momon's pockets. The once-struggling travelers now found themselves enveloped in the wealth bestowed upon them by a grateful populace.
As the city settled back into its rhythm, citizens reveled in newfound freedom, freely strolling through the streets and delighting in the sight of Dvalin soaring above, dutifully fulfilling his role as a guardian.
Amidst the celebratory atmosphere, Aether and Paimon wandered from table to table, savoring delectable dishes and relishing in the joyous ambiance. However, amidst the laughter and chatter, Momon discreetly distanced himself. Being undead, he found solace in the shadows, avoiding the repetitive queries that he knew would come his way. The constant questions of "Why don't you eat?" or "Take off the mask" had grown wearisome, and Momon preferred the quiet contemplation of his solitary existence over the boisterous celebrations of the living.
Back at the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, Jean extended a personal invitation to Momon to join her in her office. Despite the formal setting, Jean's demeanor radiated happiness, putting Momon at ease as he stood before her.
"So, why did you call me, Jean?" Momon inquired, his masked expression unreadable.
"You and Aether have rendered invaluable service to this country, Momon. However, it's your strength that has truly caught my attention. I was there during the battle, and I couldn't help but marvel at your power. It was as if I was witnessing a god in action," Jean acknowledged, her admiration evident in her words.
"You're giving me too much credit, Jean, and it's feeling a bit strange," Momon responded modestly, his tone reflecting a mix of gratitude and discomfort.
"Ah, forgive me. It must be tiring to be constantly hailed as a hero. I just wanted to ask if there's anything you wish from us. Just name it, and I will make it happen," Jean offered, her sincerity evident in her voice.
Momon began to discern the undercurrents of the conversation. It wasn't just gratitude; it was a hint of fear. Jean had witnessed his unparalleled strength and feared the potential consequences if Mondstadt were to turn against him. Sensing the opportunity to leverage this fear, Momon decided to press further.
"Does anyone have ownership over the Old Mondstadt?" Momon inquired, his question cutting through the air.
Jean hesitated before responding, "Uh, well, no, not really. The last true owner of that realm was the God of Storm, and Dvalin is now free from that place. For the past 2600 years, no human has dared to set foot there due to the haunting memories. The Old Mondstadt and Dragonspine remain completely off-limits." Jean explained, her response revealing the historical weight and forbidden nature of the area.
"I would like you to grant me ownership of those lands," Momon straightforwardly requested, taking Jean up on her offer to grant him anything within her power.
Jean's concern etched across her face. "Are you sure? The Old Mondstadt is now infested with hilichurls and other monsters, and the Dragonspine is a desolate, frozen land," she cautioned. The prospect of someone willingly taking control of such untamed territories seemed unusual.
"Do you think I'm scared of a bunch of hilichurls?" Momon responded confidently, his tone dismissing any concern. Having defeated a dragon, facing hilichurls, was the least of his concerns.
"No, forgive me, I was just worried. So, this is truly your wish? To own the Old Mondstadt and the Dragonspine?" Jean clarified.
"Yeah. Mondstadt has grown on me. The weather is perfect, the nature is lovely, and the people are kind. I want to work to improve Mondstadt, ensuring that the Abyss Order and the Fatui won't trouble this country anymore," Momon explained, revealing a commitment to safeguarding Mondstadt.
Jean's expression shifted from concern to delight. "That's wonderful to hear, that you still want to help Mondstadt. Your dedication is truly appreciated."
While Jean busied herself preparing the necessary documents, Momon's eyes wandered toward the map hanging on the wall. The allure of these two realms lay in their strategic connections with the sea – Old Mondstadt to the north and Dragonspine to the south. Momon couldn't help but feel a sense of gratification at the prospect of claiming the lands he deemed rightfully his. There would undoubtedly be a myriad of tasks awaiting him, but the potential and possibilities stirred a newfound sense of purpose within him. The anticipation of what lay ahead filled Momon with a profound sense of satisfaction and eagerness to embark on the challenges that awaited him in his newly acquired domains.