Lumine's relief, the Trailblazer's shock… and a new reward
The Electro Cicin Mage kept her head low, embarrassment and simmering anger warring across her face.
"Good."
The Fatui Pyro Agent—the so-called Debt CollectorChaymenhoff—smiled with idle amusement as he paced closer, bootheels tapping a steady beat on the stone. "Just as planned."
"From this moment, Mondstadt is in disarray. The Knights will lock down the city, and they won't find you." His eyes glinted. "No need to fret. With no proof, they can suspect us all night and still come up empty."
He paused, voice turning soft and hungry. "So… the Holy Lyre der Himmel? You hid it already, yes? Where?"
Heat seemed to thicken the air; every gaze in the room pinned the mage.
Instead, she let out a humorless little laugh. "My lord… I failed."
Silence hit like a dropped anvil.
Firelight threw hard angles across Chaymenhoff's face as his smile curdled. "What?"
The three elite troopers flanking him stiffened, trading sharp looks. Outside, Mondstadt had already erupted; the pattern screamed success. The Cathedral alarm, the Knight mobilization—everything matched the op. And yet…
Chaymenhoff's eyes cooled, his steps slow and heavy as he closed the distance. "If you failed, why the citywide lockdown?" His tone thinned to a razor. "You didn't intend to… keep the Lyre for yourself, did you?"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
She flinched, shaking her head fast. "Never! I reached the dais. I saw the Lyre. I waited out a patrol and moved in and then—" Her mouth tightened. "It vanished. In seconds."
She forced the rest out. "And someone struck me. A palm—hard. Back of the skull. When I turned… no one. No elemental trace. Nothing." Her hands balled into fists. "It was like an invisible person was standing right there. They took the Lyre ahead of me—and hit me for good measure."
The words flattened the room again.
Chaymenhoff studied her a long breath, hunting for a lie and finding none. She was furious, humiliated… and baffled. Someone fast and meticulous had ghosted through a sanctum and erased their own presence so completely that even a trained Fatui caster caught nothing.
"Vanished," he repeated, eyes narrowing. "As if lifted by unseen hands."
So. Someone else moved while we moved.
"Knock, knock, knock!"
Urgent raps at the door. A panting attendant burst in, forgetting every rule of poise. "My lord—the Knights of Favonius have surrounded the embassy! They're demanding entry with a search writ!"
"How are they that fast?!" The Cicin Mage snapped upright, panic bleeding into her voice. Did Mondstadt just… follow our trail directly?
Chaymenhoff, by contrast, didn't so much as twitch. A thin smile returned to his mouth as he smoothed his crimson coat. "So they can hustle."
He headed for the stairs. "Hide," he said over his shoulder. "Do not show your face."
"What will you do?" she asked.
"What else?" His chuckle was dry as ash. "We didn't take anything." He swung the door open. "Let them posture."
The embassy gates blazed with torchlight. Knights in full harness formed a hard ring of steel.
Chaymenhoff stepped into the line of fire as if onto a stage, chin lifted, eyes faintly amused. "Is this Mondstadt's hospitality, then—steel at the throat?"
"Chaymenhoff," the lead Knight said, voice like a drawn bowstring, "the Favonius Cathedral has been robbed. Our trail leads here. By Mondstadt law, we're empowered to search these premises."
"Search?" Chaymenhoff arched a brow. "And when did your laws outrank our diplomatic protections?"
He took one step forward, looking down his nose. "Set one boot inside without consent, and you insult Snezhnaya. Are you prepared to spark an incident?"
Knuckles whitened on sword hilts. A younger Knight bristled. "Quit the legal theater! The Lyre's last trace disappears at your doors. If you're clean, open up. If not—"
"Evidence," Chaymenhoff cut in, voice gone iron. "Bring your Acting Grand Master. Until then, your posturing means nothing."
Angry murmurs swelled—not just from Knights, but from citizens creeping toward the spectacle.
"Why the Knights at this hour?"
"Is the dragon back?"
"No—someone said a holy relic's been stolen!"
"The Fatui again, I'll bet!"
The street seethed. Chaymenhoff's smile didn't reach his eyes.
"Report to Acting Grand Master Jean!" a Knight barked. Orders flew.
At Angel's Share, upstairs:
Lumine glanced at the empty chair and scratched her cheek. "Weird. Venti said he'd meet us here after we succeeded."
"He will." Kairo set a wrapped shape on the table, then slid it across with a small smile. "Transaction complete."
Lumine's eyes lit as she took the Holy Lyre der Himmel in both hands. "We did it." The thought of repaying Kairo—two weeks as his Adventurers' Guild assistant after this business—sparked a quiet, eager warmth. Travel, missions… together.
Across from her, a translucent panel flared to life before Kairo's eyes.
[Trailblazer Assistance Chain]
You chose Equivalent Exchange: you shared what you know about the Stellaron and offered to settle the favor later. The Trailblazer is shocked—how do you know so much?
Reward Granted:Trailblazer — Path of Destruction — Ultimate:Stardust Ace.
(Unleash a devastating single strike. Visual effect included.)
Power surged through him like a river breaking a dam.
For a heartbeat, Kairo saw it—not with eyes, but with every fiber of muscle and marrow: a blade of light tearing a canyon across the night sky; the world itself shuddering under a falling star. Heat and pressure rolled under his skin; breath left him in a low exhale.
"Strong," he muttered, pupils tightening. The force flooded him from the inside out—massive, absolute, a hint of Stellaron ruin stitched into a single finishing blow.
With Stardust Ace for a brutal close, Seele's Phantom Illusion for entry, and Ripple for speed… that's a complete kit.
Lumine, Lyre cradled against her, watched him with a small frown of curiosity. "Kairo?"
He blinked, the afterimage fading. "All good." A corner of his mouth lifted. "Very good."
Outside, the Knights close their ring. Inside, a god hums somewhere behind a smile. And under all of it, a foreign power sharpens its edge…
Next: the Lyre's first song—and the price of playing it.
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