"Not necessarily that slow," Kairo said before Lumine could speak. "I can pick up our pace."
The group went quiet; eyes turned to him.
"…Meaning?" Kaeya arched a brow.
Kairo didn't explain. He let out a calm breath.
A ripple—soundless, like wind skimming a lake—spread through the air. A distinct force threaded the party together, tugging them forward as if the world itself had trimmed their weight. Steps lightened; momentum flowed.
"Eh?!" Paimon nearly bobbled midair. "My flying—got faster!"
Kaeya took one step, then another—his brows twitched. Yes. The ground slipped by more easily than a warm-up run, yet his breath stayed even, muscles loose, as though he'd stepped into a current and the current had agreed with him.
"What… is this?" he murmured, studying Kairo now with open curiosity. No Vision's resonance, no swirl of Anemo—and yet a speed boon, clean and firm. Not elemental. Different.
Lumine's gold eyes brightened. "This feeling—!"
She knew it. The same strange power had wrapped her in Stormterror's gale, letting her carve the wind instead of be caged by it. If she fought with this on… she'd finish monsters in half the time.
"Incredible," Lisa said, lashes dipping as she tested her stride. "This is hardly ordinary elemental work."
Amber bounced on her heels, grin widening. "So cool! Kairo, how are you doing that? With this, scouting gets way easier!"
Only Fischl looked unsurprised—she'd worn this tailwind before.
"Hmph! My loyal companion is one chosen by fate," she proclaimed, chin high. "Such swiftness is but a trifle to he who grasps the axioms of destiny!"
Oz obligingly translated: "Miss means: Kairo's skill is very impressive."
Kairo only smiled. He turned to Lumine. "You can wield Anemo even without a Vision. Layer your wind with mine—we won't crawl."
"Mm." Lumine nodded and let Anemo spread like a soft shell over the group.
Lisa's gaze pricked—no Vision, yet the Traveler moved the wind. She filed the observation away. Amber and Kaeya, having seen Lumine duel Stormterror, didn't so much as blink.
"With the two of you, this is almost relaxing," Kaeya said lightly. "And it does make me more curious. Still—everyone has secrets."
He flashed a grin and took point. The team adjusted packs, and—with Anemo's slipstream and Kairo's Path boon piling speed on speed—they ate the road toward the Four Winds Temples.
Fatui, in the shadows of Mondstadt
Wind scoured the alleys; three agents in black-gold uniforms compared notes in an alcove.
"News from the plaza: half the Knights' core moved at once," one said low. "Jean saw them off."
"I heard." The lean one snorted, folding his arms. "Our watch-list target—Kairo—went with them. Does that not say something?"
"Did he join the Knights?" the third hissed. "We invited him. He said he'd 'consider'—liar."
"Don't jump." The first shook his head. "He's Adventurers' Guild. By Mondstadt's custom, adventurers do assist the Knights in crises. That alone isn't defection."
"Then why march with their best?" The tall one leaned in. "Kaeya, Amber, even that 'mysterious' Lisa left her library—plus that middle-school princess with the Electro Vision."
"That lineup is as elite as they can field," the lean agent muttered. "Barring a few who can't leave their posts, it's nearly everyone who matters. So—what's the play?"
"That's the point." The first agent's eyes cooled. "Two choices: we tail them and risk discovery by Kaeya's hawk-eye—or we report to our handler and let higher ranks decide."
"Tail the Knights?" the third said tightly. "If they feel us…"
"And don't forget the 'Traveler,'" the lean one added, a flicker of honest wariness. "She faced Stormterror and drove it off. That isn't a normal Vision-holder."
Silence pulsed. Then the first agent decided.
"Forget the tail. We brief our handler."
"What about our missing pair?" the tall one asked, softer.
"Not priority," said the eldest flatly. "Gone days now. Accident or cleanup—either way, likely lost. Our task is to keep operations intact. With so many Vision wielders out of the city, we may find… opportunities."
The others met his look—and nodded. In moments, their footsteps faded into the deeper dark.
Temple of the Falcon (West)
Under Ripple—Kairo's Path of the Hunt technique—and Lumine's wind, the party made crisp time. The broken silhouette of the temple rose: slumped walls, buckled columns, old runes half-eaten by moss.
Time had gnawed the gate; stone leaves hung ajar, edges nibbled to chips. Vines curtained collapsed colonnades; lone pillars stood like aging sentinels.
Kaeya skimmed the damage and smiled without mirth. "A sight, isn't it… A shrine of the Four Winds, reduced to this."
"Mm." Lisa's finger traced a scar of script along the wall. "Residual Anemo—chaotic. Once a stronghold of the Knights, guarding Mondstadt's winds… now a memory."
"This is the place?" Paimon frowned. "It's so run-down. Will we really find Stormterror's leftover power here?"
"It's one of them," Amber said. "People avoid these ruins. Wouldn't be shocked to find beasts—or Hilichurl camps—inside."
She hesitated. "And… Stormterror was once one of the Four Winds."
"Was?" Paimon squeaked. "But the temple's tiny—how would a dragon fit—"
"Dim Paimon," Amber sighed. "There's probably a pocket realm inside."
Kaeya's eyes sharpened with the wind. "Feel that? The air isn't right. The dragon's power is pulling here."
He looked to the team. "Lisa and I will head for the other two shrines. You handle this one."
"Okay." Amber nodded.
Kairo flicked Ripple again—a soft pulse of the Hunt's swiftness—buffing Kaeya and Lisa with another twenty-five percent of borrowed glide. The pair left at an easy clip.
"The longer those gales choke Mondstadt, the worse it gets," Amber said. "We move fast, we end it fast."
"Right!" Paimon agreed.
"Foolish mortals," Fischl intoned at the threshold, cloak snapping. "Know ye not the skein of fate? These halls cradle more than history—restless shades await our tread!"
Oz translated, patient as ever. "Miss advises caution. Enemies likely lurk."
"Oh! Got it!" Paimon bobbed.
They stepped through.
Dark swallowed them—and then opened. A vast nave unspooled under a ruptured dome; thin light slanted in to silver dust motes and the bones of grandeur. Fracture-veins ran through the walls; columns lay like felled trees; statues eroded to nameless masks.
"The Anemo flow is… unstable," Amber said quietly.
Lumine's grip tightened on her blade. The wind here had been torqued out of true, bent by a deeper will.
They pushed on—corridors giving way to a vaulted expanse. From a ragged balcony, Amber squinted into the depths, then pointed. "There—the inner dais. That's our target."
Down below, the open stone was crowded. Hilichurls milled; Slimes pulsed; heavy-shield brutes guarded chokepoints; archers held perches.
"We clear the Hilichurls first," Amber said, mind already arranging lanes. "You—close in. I'll cover from range. Your Highness, have Oz conduct Electro to crack the toughest targets."
A direct charge would waste time—and blood.
Kairo rolled his shoulders, feeling the Path humming under his skin, the wind ready in Lumine's fingers, the storm gathering in Fischl's shadow.
"Then," he said, smiling, "let's make this quick."
From the dais, the temple's air drew a breath—as if something far away had tilted an ear to listen.
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