In the early morning, the thin sunlight struggled to pierce the gray-white wind wall, casting a cold light upon the dilapidated streets and alleys of Mondstadt City.
A group of people, escorted by members of the resistance, was making their way through.
They were escorting not only the food just reclaimed from the nobles' granaries but also the civilians rescued from the cold, grim prison. The thought of being reunited with their families brought looks of excitement to their pale faces.
"They're back! They're all back!"
"My child! My child!"
"Father!"
Suppressed sobs and erupting cheers intertwined. Loved ones who had been taken away, food that had been withheld—at this moment, all were returned to the people's hands. This scene was more powerful than any speech.
Himmel bustled in the middle of the crowd, his clear voice soothing frightened children as he handed warmed bread to the elderly with trembling hands.
A gentle and sincere smile on his face dispelled the gloom in people's hearts.
Venti hovered over his shoulder, wings of light shimmering, silently stirring a soft breeze.
This wind carried none of the High Tower's tyranny. It gently caressed the tear stains on the children's faces, brushed against the blood-soaked bandages of the wounded, and blew away the lingering scent of blood and fear in the air, bringing with it a vibrant life force that sprang from the very source of existence.
A little girl who had just thrown herself into her father's arms looked up, pointing at Himmel with tear-filled eyes, and said to her mother, "Mama, was it that big brother... was it that big brother's gentle wind that saved Papa?"
An old woman who had taken the bread, her hands shaking violently, suddenly grabbed Himmel's hand. Scalding tears fell onto his skin. "It's you... it's you and the wind you brought... Lord Barbatos! Did Lord Barbatos send you to save us?"
"Barbatos..."
The name was whispered, passed along, and echoed through the crowd.
"This young man must be His incarnation!"
"Look at that wind! It's so gentle!"
What they saw was not a shadow perched atop a tower, indifferent to all, but a tangible human form willing to walk among them, bringing food, reunion, and hope. In their suffering, they desperately needed such a vessel for their faith.
Himmel was instantly flustered, his cheeks flushed red. He waved his hands repeatedly, his voice strained with embarrassment, "No, it's not! It wasn't me! It was Him..."
He quickly turned his head, trying to point to the invisible wind spirit on his shoulder, the true source of the power.
But all the people saw was that as he turned his head, an even gentler, more refreshing breeze brushed across their faces, as if in silent comfort and confirmation.
"Look, He's too modest to admit it!"
"Such humility and kindness!"
"So... there are gods like this!"
Voices of gratitude and whispers rose, and some even began to bow down devoutly in his direction, just as they would toward the High Tower.
Himmel froze on the spot, not knowing what to do with his hands and feet. He subconsciously took half a step back, his gaze shifting away, and fine beads of sweat even broke out on his forehead.
This surging faith was too vast and heavy, making him feel immensely awkward and uneasy.
...
Himmel, with Venti, met the poet Orion in the crowd.
Orion had just been reunited with his parents, who were rescued from the prison. His face showed the exhaustion of a sleepless night, but beneath it lay a profound peace from having his loved ones back.
After settling his family, he joined the line to distribute food and, with his unique poetic charisma, began to speak quietly to those around him, along with other poets, about the belief in "freedom" and the "God of Wind" who brought the gentle breeze.
Watching Orion, Himmel's confusion deepened.
He found a moment and asked in a low voice, "Mister Orion, what kind... what kind of god do you think the people truly need?"
Orion, who had been nearly torn apart by the gales and whose parents had suffered imprisonment, gave his answer based on this visceral pain.
He looked at the families finally reunited, weeping in each other's arms, his own eyes filled with tears. "My parents prayed for half their lives to the god in the High Tower, and all they received was cold indifference. People don't need a distant, unreachable stone statue whose face they can't even see."
He raised his hand, pointing to the common folk supporting each other and sharing food, his voice rising, "They need a god... who is willing to crouch down and listen to our cries; a god who can pat our shoulders and laugh with us. A god who walks among us, who has hands as warm as ours, who can feel our pain and our joy!"
Himmel's heart jolted. He looked at Venti on his shoulder.
Venti was also looking at him quietly, the small cyclone of air swirling gently, as if pondering Orion's words.
An idea became clear in Himmel's mind. He said softly to Venti, "Perhaps... Mister Orion is right. For humans, a god with a human form can evoke more empathy, can better carry their hopes."
He took a deep breath, as if having made a decision, and solemnly asked the wind spirit in his palm, "Venti, would you be willing... to let me temporarily play the role of 'Barbatos's incarnation'? Until the moment you find your true form and can freely show yourself to everyone. Together, we will deliver the belief in 'freedom' into every person's heart."
Venti flew up lightly, circled Himmel three times, and finally came to a steady rest in his palm, emitting a firm and warm light from its whole being—the glow of consent.
When Himmel walked the streets again, his back was straight. The awkwardness in his eyes had faded, replaced by a quiet sense of mission.
He picked up his lyre and gently plucked the strings. Venti, in perfect sync, stirred the breeze, carrying the sound of the lyre—not ornate, but full of hope—clearly to every corner.
On the gentle wind, this "incarnation of Barbatos," chosen by the people, declared in a clear and solemn voice: "The God of Wind will protect you!"
...
In the large warehouse in the production district, converted into a base, candlelight flickered, illuminating faces aglow with excitement and conviction.
The air was filled with the peculiar smell of old paper, cheap ink, and fervent emotions.
The bards sat in a circle, these inheritors and shapers of Mondstadt City's oldest memories, deep in heated discussion.
"We must write about how Vladimir threw the bread on the ground!"
"And the sound of the shackles in the prison! I'll never forget that sound for as long as I live!"
"We have to let everyone know that the one in the High Tower has never answered our prayers!"
"Yes! And we must spread the faith of the God of Wind! He is with us!"
The discussion gradually subsided, and all eyes turned to Orion.
He stood up, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Then it's settled! We elders will write of the nobles' whip marks, the cold of the prison, the indifference of the Solitary King who listened to our prayers amidst starvation yet did nothing! We will make every word a flame of rage burning toward the High Tower, so the people will never forget why we must clench our fists and break this cage!"
Himmel continued, "Mister Orion and the others will tell us why we must break the cage. What we young people must do is show everyone the world outside the cage! Make them realize that the real sky, the poems and songs beyond the cage, are aspirations worth fighting for!"
The young poets spontaneously found a relatively quiet corner and gathered around Venti.
Venti hovered in the center, using the power of wind it could command to sketch out vague yet incredibly moving images.
The breeze carried scents from afar, accompanied by its gentle descriptions:
"Dandelion seeds ride the wind to travel to every corner of the world..."
"Plump Sunsettias, under the sunlight, release a sweet fragrance..."
"On those boundless plains, the wind can create endless waves upon the sea of green grass..."
The poets listened with their eyes closed, inspiration flowing like a spring.
They seized the paper and pens at hand, writing furiously, transforming those lights, colors, scents, and sounds into rhythmic and vibrant verses, setting them to simple yet heart-striking melodies.
...
After the fervor of the group discussion, Himmel and Venti found a moment of peace in a corner of the warehouse.
The earlier excitement settled, transforming into a deeper, more personal creative impulse.
Himmel looked at Venti, who was still glowing faintly as if savoring the creative atmosphere, his eyes shining with anticipation. "Venti, you should write a poem too. A poem of your very own."
Venti's cyclone swirled, betraying hesitation. "I don't have... a mind as nimble as a human's..."
"Anyone can write poetry," Himmel said earnestly. "It has nothing to do with how nimble your mind is, nor whether you're human."
He gazed at Venti. "The 'freedom' I write about, no matter how I arrange the words, is just a patchwork based on books and imagination. But the 'freedom' you write about would be the blue sky you've truly flown in, the clouds you've touched with your own hands, the truest feeling of passing through a thousand winds. 'Freedom' written by you will possess the most genuine power."
He paused, then added, "Right, poetry is even more moving when set to music." However, he looked at Venti's form, composed purely of Anemo, and suddenly seemed troubled. "But... how would you pluck the strings?"
Venti focused its Anemo energy, summoning a very fine wisp of wind to try and stir the strings of the lyre Himmel had set aside.
The strings did vibrate, producing a series of ethereal, crisp, but completely random and untuned notes, tinkling like a disordered mountain stream.
Venti's light dimmed slightly. "If only... I had a pair of hands too."
Himmel was amused by the cute attempt. He reached out a finger, gently touched Venti's wings of light, and comforted it, "It's alright. After we win, we can learn slowly. I'll teach you hand over hand then, okay?"
The wind spirit floated up gently and touched the lowest string, producing a long, single note, as if to say, "It's a promise."
...
The power of faith, like trickling streams, began to secretly converge in Mondstadt City.
Venti could clearly feel that its control over the wind was stronger and more refined than before.
The hopes and beliefs vested in the name "Barbatos" had truly transformed into a power that nurtured its growth.
However, its mind was clear. This initially gathered faith, when compared to the god-king in the High Tower who had ruled Mondstadt with absolute power for centuries.
The natural gap in their level of being and accumulation was not something that could be overcome in a short time.
It still had no confidence, let alone enough power, to face or fight the Solitary King in the High Tower.
It came to Thousand Winds Temple again. The place was much emptier. Venerare had already led the Lawrence Clan and the knights of the outcasts toward Mondstadt City, leaving only a few cavalry behind to maintain the tribe's order.
The fellow wind spirits it had previously tasked with finding traces of the Lord of Time were waiting near the Thousand Winds Temple.
They zipped and played lightly in the air, their colliding cyclones making cheerful rustling sounds.
Venti drew near.
The wind spirits circled it cheerfully. "She has answered us!"
Venti's light brightened. "Is She here?"
"No," the wind spirits replied.
Venti's cyclone faltered, revealing confusion. "Ah?"
The wind spirits were still cheerful. "She went to a meeting. You'll definitely see Her next time you come!"
"A... meeting..." Venti's light flickered faintly, and an indescribable sense of loss crept into its heart.
Had the right time still not arrived?
This was the one variable it had hoped for, the only thing that could turn the tide, but this variable still seemed to be hidden behind a fog, far beyond reach.
The wait must continue.
___
🔥 New stories are available now! 🔥
✅ Access up to 40 advanced chapters of ALL stories!
✅ Receive exclusive content and updates!
Help us hit our community goals:
🎯 100 Powerstones = +1 Bonus Chapter for everyone
🚀 180 MEMBERS = +5 extra chapters of ALL STORIES!
👻 P - Walnutchan