Momon stood on the windswept cliff, his gaze fixed on the desolate ruins of Old Mondstadt, shadows cast by the broken towers and shattered stone stretching out beneath him. The chilling wind carried the scent of decay and echoes of the recent massacre led by his subordinate, the Death Emperor. He held in his gloved hand the eye of the Ruin Guard, its smooth, mechanical surface glinting faintly as it pulsed with an inner glow.
Turning the strange artifact over in his hand, Momon contemplated its purpose. Unlike magical artifacts, this piece lacked any significant arcane properties, yet it hummed with an endless source of raw energy. The energy felt powerful enough to sustain a construct—perhaps even power a Golem indefinitely without draining precious mana. In theory, it could create an unyielding machine warrior, an eternal sentinel.
But Momon's interest in machinery had long since soured. Memories flickered back from a life he'd left behind—of a world consumed by weaponized technology, a place where lives were measured in numbers and war was mechanized and impersonal. Machines were nothing more than tools of mass destruction, weapons controlled by those with insatiable ambitions. The idea disgusted him now, even more so in this world of Teyvat, where life was bound to the arcane, to souls, to elements.
"Just a hollow shell," Momon muttered, slipping the eye of the Ruin Guard back into his inventory. For now, it was a curiosity, a remnant of human ingenuity intertwined with hubris. The thought of reanimating such a soulless thing felt meaningless. No mere machine could match the disciplined relentlessness of his undead legions, nor the terrifying power of his high-ranking undead subordinates, each of whom was imbued with purpose and loyalty beyond what any golem or automaton could hope to achieve.
The Death Emperor, silent and steadfast, waited nearby. His bone-crafted form loomed in the shadows, radiating the unmistakable aura of death itself. As Momon's gaze shifted to his subordinate, he spoke, his voice cold but resolute.
"This item may hold energy, but it's nothing more than a relic of a dead civilization. Machines… they are the same everywhere, hollow tools for hollow men," he said, a faint trace of disdain threading his words. "The soul's power—the arcane, the unknown—that's what holds true strength."
The Death Emperor nodded in silent agreement. Momon took one last look at the ruins below before he turned to his loyal subordinate.
"Death Emperor… Hmm, let's just call you Roman from now on," he said, his tone conveying both authority and finality.
Roman's skeletal form bowed deeply, his crimson eyes flickering with an almost reverent glow. "Thank you for bestowing me with a name, my Lord," he intoned, his voice a low and resonant echo.
"Roman," Momon continued, "these ruins are nothing but massive graveyards. Let's put that to use—raise the corpses scattered here, and start rebuilding this city. I know construction isn't your purpose, but I think creating some Elder Liches and Demi Liches to assist the skeleton undead could prove quite effective."
Roman tilted his skull, considering Momon's plan. "It will be done, my Lord, but… may I trouble you with a suggestion?" he asked carefully. "If you were to create a Crypt Lord, I believe it would be far more efficient. Such an undead could oversee construction and manage the lesser undead with greater coordination than an Elder or Demi Lich."
Momon considered Roman's suggestion with a nod. "You know what, Roman, you're absolutely right. A Crypt Lord would handle the scale of this operation much better." He folded his arms, surveying the decayed city around him. "Gather some hilichurl corpses for now, and we'll begin. I want this done quickly and efficiently."
"At once, my Lord," Roman replied, and with a slight gesture, he summoned several lesser undead from the shadows, sending them to scavenge the remains scattered throughout Old Mondstadt.
Momon then added a new instruction, his tone sharp. "Roman, remember what I've told you—do not harm civilians or adventurers who may wander too close. You're to place yourself as a guard here. Put on a helmet to conceal your skull and tell any intruders that entry to Old Mondstadt is strictly forbidden. If you encounter the Fatui, however…" he paused, "...well, I think you know what to do."
"Yes, my Lord," Roman affirmed, a glint of satisfaction lighting his crimson eyes as he bowed. "I will be strategically careful."
Momon got done summoning the Crypt Lord and a few Elder Liches so he left, leaving his undead subordinates to continue the work. He was walking south enjoying looking at the beautiful nature of this land.
He looked down the canyon. The path or corridor leading to Old Mondstadt was being guarded by his undead warriors. Right now, things are going great at controlling his new domains.
After walking for about an hour, he had reached an unknown territory. There were wolves everywhere and they were howling loudly. Momon could sense the power of Abyss nearby.
He turned his skull and sensed that the power was coming from the southeast. Momon decided to follow where the abyssal energy was coming from. He walked for like ten minutes until he reached a wide massive pit.
In the center of the pit, the source of the strange energy became clear.
A massive, colossal wolf, lay in the center, trapped within a circle of glowing, abyssal chains. Its body was strong, every muscle rippling with raw power, yet it lay immobilized by the chains that wrapped tightly around its torso and limbs. The chains thrummed with a dark energy, almost as though they were alive, feeding off the wolf's struggles and sapping its strength.
Momon's gaze fixed on the creature. The wolf's fur was a mix of dark silvers and midnight blues, matted with dirt and blood, and its eyes burned with an unnatural blue glow that flickered with both anger and pain. Despite its immense size, it was clearly in a vulnerable state, its movements strained, the chains binding it with overwhelming force.
Besides the giant wolf was a young boy who was trying to protect the wolf from two strange tall creatures of the Abyss Order. There were also four Abyss Mages with hilichurl minions that had surrounded the wolf.
Momon observed the struggle from the edge of the pit, his gaze fixated on the bound Lupus Boreas as he carefully slid his mask back over his skeletal visage. His eye sockets flared with a cold, eerie light as he assessed the situation. The mighty wolf spirit was bound tightly by chains pulsating with dark energy, helpless before the Abyss Heralds, who now loomed over him, their twisted forms shrouded in Abyssal mist.
The eerie glow of the abyssal chains cast a sickly light over the pit, twisting the shadows around Lupus Boreas as he struggled against his bonds. His spectral form strained, muscles bunching beneath the weight of his captivity. Yet no matter how he fought, the chains held firm, each link pulsing with a cruel, cold power.
The Abyss Heralds watched with expressions of dark amusement. One of them stepped forward, his jagged, obsidian armor gleaming as he sneered. "Ahahaha, Lupus Boreas, the once-mighty Wolf God, brought to heel by the Abyss. Your claws, once sharp enough to strike fear into any foe, have dulled over the centuries. Look at you now, suffering like a caged beast."
The boy had wild, silver hair and fierce eyes, his voice a raw shout of defiance. "Leave Lupus Boreas alone!" Razor's voice trembled with fury, his fists clenched as lightning crackled faintly around his hands. He knew his strength paled before the Abyss Heralds, yet he would defend his Lupical with all he had.
The great wolf turned his gaze toward Razor, a faint glint of pride in his dimming eyes. "Human Lupical," Boreas rumbled, his voice weakened but resolute, "leave this place. I shall resist the cursed Abyss with all the strength left in me." His growl echoed in the pit, but even he knew his words were more for Razor's reassurance than his own.
Boreas attempted to rise, muscles trembling under the strain, but the chains tightened, forcing him back to the ground with a painful howl. The Abyss Heralds only laughed, relishing his agony.
Another Abyss Herald approached, his voice dark and enticing. "Why suffer, Lupus Boreas, when you could be free? Join us, and you shall have back all the power you once wielded. Stand with the Abyss, and together we will be unstoppable."
"Lies!" Boreas snarled, his voice reverberating with anger. "You cursed creatures taint the world with your corruption. I would sooner be destroyed than stand by your side." His growl was fierce, but the chains reacted, tightening further, pulling him down with renewed force.
The first Herald stepped closer, a sinister gleam in his eyes as he raised his staff toward Boreas. "It does not matter, stubborn beast. You have rejected our offer, and so we shall do this the hard way. Your will shall be broken, and when the ceremony is complete, you will serve the Princess of the Abyss Order!"
The second Herald began chanting, his voice a twisted melody that seemed to pull the darkness in around them. The ground trembled, and the chains wrapped tighter, beginning to pulse with a dark, invasive energy. Boreas's howls of defiance grew quieter, his strength ebbing as the abyssal magic seeped into his very being.
Suddenly, a sharp crack echoed through the pit, followed by a crash. Something heavy had fallen into the pit, landing squarely atop an unsuspecting Abyss Mage, who crumpled beneath the impact with a sickening crunch. Dust swirled into the air, and the Abyss Heralds froze, momentarily distracted by the intrusion.
As the dust settled, a cloaked figure emerged from the haze. The dark silhouette was imposing, his presence radiating an eerie power that silenced even the Heralds' mocking laughter. Momon stood, his mask gleaming faintly in the dim light, concealing his skeletal visage but not his intent. He glanced down at the crushed Abyss Mage beneath his boot and flicked it aside with disdain.
One of the Heralds hissed in fury. "Who dares interrupt the will of the Abyss?" he snarled, his voice thick with contempt.
Momon stood motionless, his crimson eyes glowing ominously beneath his mask. He scanned the scene: the massive wolf bound in chains, the young boy standing defensively, bruised yet defiant, and the array of Abyss creatures encircling them.
"Hello gentlemen, I shall let you know, the fun is over" spoke Momon.
The second Herald laughed, though it was more a desperate sound than one of genuine amusement. "You think you can interfere? You are dealing with forces beyond mortal understanding! Lupus Boreas will be a servant of the Abyss, whether he wills it or not!"
Momon's crimson eyes narrowed. He stepped forward, each footfall sending a dark pulse through the ground, which seemed to whisper and tremble in response. "Your 'ceremony' ends now. I don't tolerate disturbances like this."
The Heralds hesitated. One of them scoffed, trying to mask his fear. "Such arrogance… You'll regret standing in our way!"
One of the Abyss Heralds sneered, recovering from his shock. "Another fool dares to interfere. And who might you be, armored stranger?" His voice dripped with arrogance, though a flicker of unease lingered in his tone.
Momon didn't answer right away, his gaze instead drifting to Lupus Boreas, who strained against his chains, a fierce snarl echoing through the pit. Then he looked to the Abyss Herald, his voice ringing out with a chilling calm. "I don't usually bother myself with small matters, but you," he pointed to the Heralds with a slow, deliberate movement, "you've encroached upon my territory. I can't allow that."
The second Herald laughed, though his eyes remained wary. "Your territory? You must be delusional. We are here under the command of the Abyss Princess herself. This world will bend to the Abyss Order's will, including all those within it."
The Abyss Mages formed a circle around Momon, their hands crackling with pyro and electro energy. They launched a barrage of elemental attacks, bolts of fire and lightning converging toward him. But each strike fizzled out, disintegrating as they neared his form, repelled by an unseen aura.
One of the Mages sneered. "What is he, some kind of shielded monster?"
Unfazed, Momon raised one hand, his voice echoing through the pit with chilling authority. "[Hell Fire Wall]."
The air itself seemed to ignite as a massive wall of flames erupted around him, spreading outward in a scorching wave. The Abyss Mages barely had time to scream before the inferno consumed them, the flames roaring higher with each passing second. Hilichurls caught in the blaze stumbled, desperately trying to escape, but the fire was unrelenting.
When the flames finally died down, nothing remained of the Mages and hilichurls but smoldering ash scattered across the scorched earth. The surrounding air hung heavy with the scent of burnt embers, and a faint glow lingered around Momon, as though the fire was still within his command.
The tall Abyss Herald's laughter echoed through the pit. "Hah, pathetic! You shall face the true power of the Abyss Order!" With a flick of his wrists, dual blades unfolded, gleaming with cursed energy. He surged forward like a storm, his form blurring with speed as he appeared in front of Momon, thrusting his blades straight toward his chest.
But in an instant—almost too fast to see—the Abyss Herald staggered back, looking down in confusion. His right arm was no longer there, severed so cleanly that it took a moment for the pain to reach his senses. As he finally registered what had happened, his scream tore through the pit. "No… no way!" he shouted, clutching the bleeding stump in horror.
Momon's voice was cold, mocking. "I thought you were about to show me the 'power' of the Abyss Order," His words cut sharper than any blade.
The Herald's defiance faltered, fear flashing in his eyes, but before he could even react, Momon's boot connected with his chest. The impact was thunderous, the force of the kick sending the Herald hurtling back like a missile. His body crashed into the stone wall of the pit with a sickening crunch, embedding him deep into the rock. Dust and debris exploded from the impact, cloaking him in a thick cloud.
As the dust began to settle, the second Abyss Herald took a step back, his face twisted with terror. His comrade was slumped within the stone, half-dead and barely clinging to life. The sheer, brutal strength of this masked figure was something he had never seen before since the fall of Khaenri'ah.
"You…!" the remaining Herald stammered, disbelief etched in his voice. He was rooted in place, struggling to find his composure. "Now I remember… you're the one they call the monster. The creature that defeated Dvalin… and crushed Osial!"
Razor, who had been watching the confrontation with wide, astonished eyes, now spoke up, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and excitement. "The tall masked… Honorary Knight!" he breathed, recognizing the mysterious warrior he had only heard stories about.
Momon raised a gloved hand, halting the Abyss Herald's desperate plea. His piercing gaze bore into the Herald, unshaken by the Herald's shock. "Wait, servant of the Abyss Order. I have a question," he stated coolly, his tone unbothered and commanding. With a flick of his wrist, a dark portal opened beside him, and from it, he pulled a peculiar object—a metallic sphere with a faint crimson glow emanating from within. He held it up between two fingers, observing it with detached curiosity. "What is this thing?" he asked.
The Abyss Herald's face twisted with horror and astonishment. "The—The Eye of the First Field Tiller!" His voice quivered as he stared at the object that the Abyss Order had sought for so long. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. This item was vital, a key to the Order's most secretive and ambitious plan against the Heavenly Principles. "Hand it over!" he demanded, his voice laced with desperation.
A low, mocking laugh escaped Momon. "I don't think you're in any position to give orders," he replied, glancing at the first Herald, who remained pinned to the wall, bloodied and half-conscious. "Unless, of course, you'd like to end up just like your friend over there."
The Abyss Herald swallowed his pride, realizing his options were slim. "If…if I tell you its purpose, would you consider giving it back?" he ventured, his voice dropping to an almost pleading tone.
"That depends," Momon replied, his gaze inscrutable behind his mask.
The Herald hesitated, but the need for the Eye drove him to speak. "The Eye of the First Field Tiller is the central component of a device known as the Loom of Fate. This device grants the power to manipulate the Ley Lines themselves."
Momon raised an eyebrow, feigning mild curiosity. "What does that mean, exactly?"
"Control of the Ley Lines means control over the very essence of Teyvat's reality," the Herald explained, his tone feverish with ambition. "Ley Lines are pathways of memories, elemental power that flows through this world. With the Loom of Fate, we would command all of Teyvat—its past, its present, and its future. We would reshape reality itself! The Abyss Order will rise to conquer, and those self-righteous gods of Celestia, their servants, the Archons—they will all fall. Teyvat will be ours to mold as we see fit."
Momon's eyes gleamed with intrigue, his mind racing. "A device that can alter reality… How curious. The Loom of Fate sounds like it has the same potential as a World-Class Item in YGGDRASIL. Could it be comparable to the Ouroboros or the Five Elements Overcoming?" he mused, weighing the gravity of the Herald's words. "This organization clearly doesn't grasp the scale of what they're meddling with. Such power, if it indeed rivals a World-Class Item, is far too dangerous to be in the hands of such fools."
After a contemplative pause, Momon finally spoke, his voice brimming with interest. "Interesting. Very interesting."
The Abyss Herald, sensing a flicker of hope, seized the opportunity. "Then…perhaps you'll consider an alliance? Hand over the Eye, and the Abyss Order shall forever hold you in high regard, Master Momon. You would have our eternal gratitude, and together—"
"I appreciate the sentiment," Momon interrupted, the slightest hint of amusement flickering in his tone. But without any further warning, he tossed the Eye of the First Field Tiller high into the air, its gleaming surface catching the faint light as it soared.
"No!" the Abyss Herald's eyes widened in horror, his arm outstretched in a futile attempt to catch the device.
Momon's eyes flashed coldly. "[Explosion]." A pulse of his magic filled the air, and with a deafening boom, the Eye burst into a thousand glinting shards, obliterated beyond any hope of repair.
"NOOOO!" The Herald's scream echoed through the pit, laced with agony and disbelief. He staggered forward, hands clenching as he fell to his knees, staring at the raining fragments of his organization's precious artifact. "What have you done?! Do you realize what you've destroyed?"
Momon crossed his arms, gazing down at the Herald with an air of utter indifference. "I knew enough to see that such power shouldn't be left in the hands of amateurs. The Abyss Order is playing with forces it doesn't understand."
"You…you monster!" The Herald's voice was a mixture of anger and despair, but he could not look Momon in the eye. "You've ruined everything!"
Momon's laughter filled the pit, calm and dismissive. "I believe I've merely done you all a favor. Teyvat has no need for a second-rate imitation of true power." His voice turned cold, a final warning ringing in his words. "And you would do well to remember that."
Momon watched as the Abyss Herald snarled with fury, his voice shaking with hatred. "You will pay for this! You will pay!" he barked, eyes burning with resentment. The Herald staggered backward, gripping his injured comrade and muttering an incantation under his breath. A swirling mass of dark energy gathered at their feet, shrouding them in an ominous haze of Abyssal power.
With one last glare, the two Heralds disappeared in a burst of shadows, their enraged voices echoing faintly in the air as they vanished from Wolvendom.
As the silence returned, Razor stepped forward, his wide-eyed gaze shifting from where the Abyss Heralds had stood to the towering figure of Momon. The young boy's voice, rough but filled with gratitude, broke the quiet. "You saved Lupus Boreas… and me. Thank you, tall masked warrior."
Momon looked down at Razor, his imposing form casting a long shadow across the ground. "It was nothing," he replied, his voice calm yet firm. "The Abyss Order has no right to interfere here."
He turned his gaze to the wolf god, still bound by chains but slowly regaining his strength. With a sweep of his hand, Momon dispelled the lingering traces of Abyssal energy, causing the chains to dissolve into fading tendrils of shadow. Lupus Boreas took a deep breath, his form now free, and rose to his full height. His piercing blue eyes met Momon's with a look of solemn respect.
"You have my gratitude, stranger," the wolf god spoke, his voice a low, resonant growl. "I know not who you are, but your strength is unlike any I have encountered in centuries."
"My name is Momon, the Honorary Knight of Favonius. I was passing by and noticed you were dealing with the forces of the Abyss so I decided to help." said Momon.
Lupus Boreas inclined his great head, regarding Momon with a piercing gaze that held both curiosity and respect. "Momon, Honorary Knight of Favonius… your strength is formidable. It has been many ages since one such as you set foot here with such power—and mercy."
Razor, standing at Boreas's side, looked up at Momon, eyes wide with admiration. "Honorary Knight… I have heard tales of you. You protect Mondstadt." His voice held a mix of reverence and wonder, clearly taken by this mysterious figure who had come to their aid so decisively.
Momon nodded, his tone calm but resolute. "The Old Mondtadt and Dragonspine are now my domains under a new name, Nazarick. I'd like it if we could make a non-aggressive pact with each other so we can avoid unnecessary situations," said Momon.
Lupus Boreas gave a solemn nod, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow on his massive form. "Very well, Honorary Knight. I accept your terms. You and those under your command may pass through Wolvendom freely. In return, we shall respect the borders of this… Nazarick."
Momon inclined his head respectfully, his tone as unwavering as his stance. "Thank you, Lupus Boreas. This pact will ensure peace between our lands. I have no intention of disrupting your territory or disturbing your kin.
Razor, standing beside Boreas, looked between the two, his fierce loyalty evident in his eyes. "I will remember this pact. Honorary Knight, I trust you… and Lupus Boreas trusts you."
As Momon strolled through the familiar paths of Liyue, he couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction. The establishment of Nazarick, his own domain rooted in the ruins of Old Mondstadt and fortified with a pact with a deity, felt like an elegant move in a grand game of strategy. Every step toward securing his territory, recruiting powerful allies, and fostering goodwill with local powers brought him closer to an empire within Teyvat.
Passing through the bustling streets of Liyue Harbor, he noted the lively merchants and travelers. He blended into the crowd, the dark mask he wore concealing his skeletal nature, yet his aura commanded silent respect. Occasionally, the gazes of the townspeople lingered a bit longer, some whispering tales of the "mysterious knight" who had been seen defending both Mondstadt and Liyue.
"Mister Momon!" called a female voice as he was passing near the Adventurers' Guild.
Momon turned and saw Katheryne approaching.
"Yeah, how can I help you?" Momon asked.
"The mission ended pretty fast I assume," said Katheryne.
"Mission? What mission?" Momon got confused.
"But, Mister Aether accepted a commission involving a group of Treasure Hoarders who are trying to steal ancient artifacts that are guarded in the shadows by the Abyss Order." said Katheryne.
"Huh..."