Location: Angel's Share Tavern (Private Room)
Current Form: Human
Status: Mildly intoxicated (finally), Explaining multiverse theory to a bartender
The tavern was closed to the public. The air was thick with tension and the smell of roasted nuts.
"So," Jean rubbed her temples, looking between Venti (who was chugging cider), Aether (who was eating peanuts), and Raiden (who was currently synthesizing a miniature galaxy in his wine glass for fun). "Let me get this straight."
"You are a Dragon," Jean pointed at Raiden.
"Correct," Raiden nodded.
"But not one of the Four Winds."
"I'm freelance."
"And you just... ate the corruption out of Dvalin?"
"It was spicy," Raiden shrugged. "Needed garlic."
Diluc stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall. "And you claim that to cure Dvalin completely, we need to summon him using the Holy Lyre der Himmel. A relic that is currently locked in the basement of the Cathedral."
"Exactly!" Venti chirped, hiccuping. "And as the... humble bard that I am, I know exactly how to use it!"
Raiden swirled his wine. "Cut the act, Barbatos. You just want to play music for your old pet."
Jean and Diluc froze.
Aether choked on a peanut.
Venti stopped smiling. The air in the room dropped ten degrees.
"You know," Venti said, his voice losing its playful lilt, echoing with the weight of the wind. "Names have power, Outlander. It is rude to speak them so casually."
Raiden leaned forward, his silver eyes boring into the Archon. "I know a lot of things. I know you're tired. I know Dvalin is suffering because the Abyss Order is exploiting his loneliness. And I know that if we don't get that Lyre, I'm going to have to physically wrestle a dragon again. And I really don't want to get wet."
Venti stared at him for a long moment, then burst out laughing. "Ehe! You're fun! Scary, but fun. Fine, fine. I'm Barbatos. Surprise!"
Jean looked like she was about to faint. "Lord... Barbatos..." She knelt immediately.
"Get up, Jean," Venti waved his hand. "I'm in incognito mode. Just call me Venti. Now, about that Lyre..."
Location: Favonius Cathedral
Time: Midnight
The plan was simple. Venti and Aether would distract the guards. Raiden would use stealth.
"Stealth is my specialty," Raiden assured them.
"Great Sage. Activate [Shadow Motion]. Activate [Presence Erasure]."
Raiden didn't just sneak; he ceased to exist to the naked eye. He walked through the front door of the Cathedral. The guards, Huffman and a sister named Victoria, looked right through him.
He strolled into the basement archives.
"Too easy," Raiden thought. "This security is terrible. No wonder the Fatui run rampant here."
He reached the pedestal where the Holy Lyre der Himmel rested. It glowed with a faint Anemo energy, though it looked weathered and cracked.
Suddenly, [Magic Sense] pinged.
"Warning. Hostile presence detected. Element: Electro. Affiliation: Fatui."
From the shadows, a Fatui Cicin Mage materialized, reaching for the Lyre. "My my, the Harbingers will be pleased with this..."
She grabbed the Lyre.
"Yo," Raiden said, deactivating his invisibility directly behind her.
The Cicin Mage shrieked, spinning around. "Who are—?!"
Raiden didn't let her finish. He placed a hand on her shoulder. [Paralysis Breath: Touch Variant].
The Mage stiffened, her muscles locking up instantly. She fell over like a statue, still clutching the Lyre.
"I'll take that," Raiden said, prying the Lyre from her frozen fingers. He looked at the Cicin Mage. "Tell Signora that if she wants this, she can come ask me nicely."
He paused.
"Great Sage. Are those Electro Cicins edible?"
"Analysis. They are pure elemental constructs. Crunchy. Taste like popping candy."
Raiden grabbed one of the buzzing purple bugs out of the air and popped it in his mouth.
Crunch.
The Cicin Mage watched in frozen horror as the man ate her summon.
"Not bad," Raiden muttered. He vanished into the shadows, leaving the paralyzed Mage to be found by the Knights.
Back at the Tavern.
Venti looked at the Lyre. "It looks... sad. The Anemo power has faded. It's been centuries since I played it."
"Can you fix it?" Diluc asked.
"I need Teardrop Crystals," Venti sighed. "Dvalin's tears. Purified."
Aether pulled out the crystals he had collected. Venti purified them, dripping the essence onto the wood. The Lyre glowed brighter, but it still looked fragile.
"It's not enough," Venti frowned. "It needs more time to recover."
"Give it here," Raiden said, extending a hand.
"Careful!" Paimon shouted. "Don't eat it!"
"I'm not going to eat the musical instrument, Paimon. I have standards."
Raiden held the Lyre.
"Analyze structure. Material: Ancient Wood, Anemo Essence. State: 45% Integrity. Initiate [Matter Creation] and [Magicule Infusion]."
Raiden's hands glowed with a gold and blue light. He poured his own Mana—dense, True Dragon energy—into the Lyre. The cracks in the wood sealed themselves. The strings hummed, tightening automatically. The faint green glow turned into a blinding radiance.
Raiden handed it back to Venti. "Good as new. Better, actually. Now it doubles as a blunt weapon if you swing it hard enough."
Venti strummed a chord. The sound was so pure it caused the wine glasses on the shelf to shatter.
"Whoa," Venti whispered. "This feels like... like the first wind of creation. You really are something else, Raiden."
The next morning, Raiden decided to handle the political fallout.
He walked to the Goth Grand Hotel, which was entirely rented out by the Fatui delegation.
Two skirmishers blocked the door. "Halt! Restricted area. Diplomatic business only."
Raiden smiled. It was a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
[Dragon's Haki: Release Level 10%].
A wave of crushing pressure slammed into the guards. They didn't pass out, but they fell to their knees, gasping for air, their instincts screaming that a predator was standing before them.
Raiden stepped over them and kicked the front door open.
Inside, Anastasia (the diplomat) was shouting at her subordinates about the failed Lyre heist.
"Who dares—?!" she turned, then froze.
Raiden walked into the lobby, sat on the most expensive velvet sofa, and crossed his legs.
"Get me your boss," Raiden said calmly. "Not the small bosses. The Harbinger. La Signora."
"The Fair Lady is not to be disturbed by—"
"I have the Lyre," Raiden lied (Aether had it). "And I have the Cicin Mage you sent. If Signora wants to avoid a war that she will lose in approximately four minutes, she will talk to me."
A door at the top of the stairs opened.
Ice crept down the railing. The temperature plummeted. A tall woman in a mask and an elaborate dress walked down, her presence commanding and cold.
La Signora. The 8th Fatui Harbinger.
She stopped halfway down the stairs, looking at Raiden with disdain.
"So," Signora sneered. "You are the stray dog causing trouble for my men. The 'Dragon' who eats trash."
Raiden looked up. He didn't feel threatened. He felt... intrigued.
"Great Sage. Analysis."
"Subject: Rosalyne-Kruzchka Lohefalter. Title: La Signora/Crimson Witch of Embers. State: Living body converted to Liquid Fire, suppressed by Cryo Delusion. Life Force: Unstable."
"Stray dog is harsh," Raiden replied, standing up. "I prefer 'Apex Predator'."
Signora laughed, a cold, sharp sound. "You think because you defeated a few recruits, you are worthy of my time? I could freeze you where you stand."
She raised her hand. A massive spike of Cryo energy manifested above Raiden.
Raiden didn't move.
The spike fell.
CRASH.
Dust filled the room. Anastasia smirked.
But as the dust cleared, Raiden was standing there. He hadn't blocked the ice. He had caught it. He was holding the massive icicle with one hand, looking bored.
Crunch.
He bit a chunk out of the ice spike and chewed it.
"A bit bland," Raiden commented, swallowing the Cryo energy. "Needs syrup."
Signora's mask hid her expression, but her posture stiffened.
Raiden tossed the rest of the icicle aside. He vanished—[Shadow Step]—and reappeared directly in front of her on the stairs.
He was close enough to smell the scent of burning roses beneath the cold.
"Listen, Rosalyne," Raiden whispered, using her real name.
Signora flinched violently, summoning a catalyst. "How do you know that name?!"
"I know about the flames eating you from the inside," Raiden said, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "I know you hate Venti. I know you want the Gnosis. But right now, Dvalin is my prey to save. If you interfere..."
Raiden's eyes shifted. His pupils became vertical slits. A shadow of a massive dragon head manifested behind him for a split second.
"...I won't just eat your ice. I'll eat the fire that keeps you alive."
Signora stared at him. For the first time in centuries, she felt fear. But beneath the fear, there was curiosity.
"Who are you?" she hissed.
"Raiden Ragnvaldr," he stepped back, fixing his collar. "I'll be seeing you around, Fair Lady. Try not to freeze the doorknob on your way out."
He turned and walked out of the hotel, leaving a stunned Harbinger and a terrified staff in his wake.
Outside, Raiden took a deep breath.
"That went well," he muttered.
"Notice. You have successfully intimidated a Harbinger. However, probability of retaliation is 100%."
"I'm counting on it," Raiden grinned. "More XP."
He met up with Aether and Venti at the city gate.
"We have the Lyre," Aether said. "We have the crystals. We have the plan."
"To Stormterror's Lair!" Paimon cheered.
"Shotgun!" Raiden called out. "I'm not flying, I just ate a Cicin Mage and I'm full."