Henry regained consciousness and felt he was sitting on the ground, his hands tied behind his back and the black cloth still over his head.
Well shit. How did I get into this situation? Orianna, are you there?
[I am here. You got yourself captured, I see.]
No shit, Sherlock.
[Hey, don't be rude. Maybe you can try to break the ropes.]
Henry tested the ropes binding his wrists, giving them an experimental tug. The fibers strained easily against his strength, but he held back, not pulling hard enough to snap them. If he broke free now, he'd reveal his trump cards. Better to wait and see what Dottore wanted first.
He heard footsteps approaching, as if someone was coming down. They stopped directly in front of him, and the black bag was yanked off his head.
Henry blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. He was in a dungeon—stone walls, damp air, the faint smell of mildew and something metallic. Iron bars surrounded him on three sides, and the floor was cold and hard beneath his feet.
His focus sharpened, and his eyes landed on the man standing before him.
Dottore.
"Well, well, well," Dottore said, his voice delighted, almost theatrical. "Look who has woken up."
Henry stared at him, saying nothing.
"Young man," Dottore continued, stepping closer, "I heard from my servants that you were snooping on me. That is very inappropriate behaviour."
Henry's eyes stayed fixed on Dottore's face. The man seemed not intimidating at all—instead, he seemed utterly crazy. The smile that stretched across his features, the glint in his red eyes, the way he tilted his head like a curious bird examining a particularly interesting insect.
He is giving me Joker vibes.
Dottore's smile widened. "Well, now that you know what happened, you will have to stay back and participate in my experiments."
Like hell I will, you sick fuck. Once you leave, I'll break out.
Dottore turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing against the stone floor. He watched him climb the stairs and slam the door shut behind him.
Henry waited until the footsteps faded completely, then strained against the ropes. They snapped easily. He stood and turned to survey his surroundings.
He grabbed the iron bars of his cell and pulled. They held. He pulled again, harder, and they began to bend.
Before he could break through, he heard sounds—muffled thuds, bodies hitting the floor, one after another. Henry froze, listening. The thuds continued, followed by silence.
What the hell is going on upstairs—
He pressed himself against the wall, eyes fixed on the front of his cell, ready for whoever was coming.
A figure's shadow appeared, growing taller as he descended—broad-shouldered, moving with silent purpose. He stopped in front of Henry's cell. Henry looked up and recognized him instantly despite the mask.
The Darknight Hero himself, in person. He carried a ring of keys, probably taken from the Fatui personnel he had just incapacitated.
He should do something about his hair. I can easily recognize him as Diluc. Is the mask part magic? Like Clark Kent's glasses? If one wears it, others can't recognize him? But then how can I recognize him? Maybe because I already know the plot?
The Darknight Hero's eyes found Henry's face, and he paused, a flicker of surprise passing through his gaze before he suppressed it. He unlocked the door and pulled it open.
Henry lowered his claymore. "Sir, thank you for rescuing me."
Diluc nodded once behind the mask.
Well, that was anticlimactic. I thought I would have to fight my way out of here.
Henry stepped out of his cell and followed Diluc. His stomach dropped as he observed his surroundings—the dungeon was larger than he had first realized. Rows of cells stretched into the darkness, each one filled with small, slumped figures. Children, almost unconscious, their heads lolling against their chests.
Anger rose in Henry's chest. This was reality, not just a game. He wanted to kill Dottore. But he wasn't a match for Dottore yet.
I need to get these kids out first.
As Diluc moved from cell to cell, unlocking each one quickly, Henry moved alongside him, gathering the children. Some were awake enough to walk, their eyes wide with fear. Henry spoke to them in a low, kind voice, telling them they were being rescued and to stay silent and follow him out.
One of the children stumbled and fell unconscious. Henry crouched, scooping the small body into his arms. The boy's head lolled against Henry's shoulder.
Henry led the children forward, following Diluc through the dark corridors. Unconscious Fatui agents lined their path—Diluc had probably taken them out. Are they alive? I think he killed them silently.
They moved through what appeared to be a large factory, the walls lined with strange machinery and equipment. Henry scanned the surroundings, memorizing the layout and noting the exits.
Diluc guided them to a back entrance, pushing open a heavy door that led out into the night air. The children stumbled forward, blinking in the sudden openness, their faces tilted up toward the stars.
Henry looked around, surprised to see a carriage waiting. It was large enough to hold all the children, its driver sitting patiently on the bench.
Seems like the dark knight came prepared.
Henry helped the children into the carriage, lifting the unconscious boy onto a seat and settling him against the back. He climbed in beside them, positioning himself behind the carriage driver.
Diluc appeared at the carriage's door. "Go," he said, his voice gruff. "Take them to Mondstadt. I have unfinished work."
Henry stared at him questioningly. "What? You're going back in there?"
Diluc didn't answer. He turned and disappeared back into the factory, his silhouette swallowed by the darkness.
Why the hell is he going back inside? What if Dottore finds him?
Henry stared after him as his jaw tightened. Dottore was dangerous—more dangerous than Diluc probably realized. And Henry knew what Dottore was capable of.
I hope he knows what he's doing.
The carriage lurched forward, and Henry settled back in his seat, keeping a watchful eye on the children. The driver was skilled — he navigated the uneven roads with practiced ease, the horses moving at a steady clip.
Henry stayed silent throughout the journey. The children were exhausted, their faces pale and drawn, their eyes still haunted by whatever they had experienced in that dungeon. He didn't try to force conversation. He just let them be.
After a while, one of the children spoke up. He was a boy around ten or eleven, with messy dark hair and a stubborn set to his jaw. He looked up at Henry. "Mister, thank you for saving us."
Henry shook his head. "Don't thank me. I was in that dungeon too. The real hero is the masked man—the Darknight Hero. He's the one who saved you."
The boy's eyes widened. "The Darknight Hero?"
"I have heard stories about him," another child whispered. "They said he's real. That he protects people."
"He is real," Henry said gently. "And he's the reason you're free right now."
The children's eyes brightened, a flicker of hope replacing the fear in their faces.
The carriage continued through the night, passing through small settlements and empty fields.
Henry kept the children occupied with questions, gently coaxing them to talk about themselves. "So," he said, turning to a girl with bushy hair, "where are you from?"
"Mondstadt," she said softly. "I've lived there my whole life."
"Me too."
"I'm from Liyue."
"Me too."
"I'm from Sumeru."
Henry nodded, taking note of their origins—several from Mondstadt, two from Liyue, two from Sumeru.
The carriage finally slowed as they approached Mondstadt's gates. Henry spotted a cluster of figures waiting—Knights of Favonius, and beside them, a figure in a blue dress.
Jean rushed forward as Henry stepped out of the carriage. Her eyes were slightly teary eyed, her expression caught somewhere between relief and worry. She reached him in a few quick strides and threw her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace.
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