Staring at the three options that appeared before him, Kairo's eyelids twitched wildly, his expression full of exasperation.
There was no way he could take the first option.
Leaving aside the fact that he had no idea where the Fatui's headquarters even was, even if he did know, there was no universe in which he would voluntarily deliver himself to them — with fine wine and good food, no less.
And the reward? "The dignity of a trash can."
What the hell was he supposed to do with that?
The second option, however, made Kairo's eyes narrow slightly, a faint glimmer flickering within them.
"The Wanderers might not necessarily find out."
Now that was interesting.
Not only that, but the reward was a Silvermane Gauntlet — part of the Silvermane Guard Set.
Back in Belobog, when an Invader bearing the Mark of Destruction blocked the Silvermane Guards' path, Laszlo Landau ordered his men to protect the Guardian's retreat, staying behind to hold off the enemy alone.
Even as one of the bravest and fiercest officers among the Silvermane Guards, there was no escaping a swarm of abominations.
Savage, monstrous creatures shrieked and roared, their relentless assault as fierce as a storm. Though their charge never ceased, no one managed to breach Laszlo's solitary defense.
The battle dragged on, brutal and unending. By the time reinforcements arrived, Laszlo finally collapsed from exhaustion. The soldiers who found him discovered that, amidst the carnage, the hero had lost both his hands.
The best craftsmen of the Builders forged an exquisite pair of gauntlets as a gift for him, allowing the hero to once again lift his banner.
"A pity," Laszlo murmured, gazing at the fine gauntlets. "These hands will never again feel the tremor of a bowstring."
The gauntlets were blessed by the power of the Path of Preservation, reducing incoming damage by 8%.
Not much — but Kairo hadn't forgotten. It was part of a set.
And a complete set could be quite valuable indeed.
The Wanderers — a faction much like the Fatui.
But if that was the case… then their higher-ups might not be so simple.
Kairo stared thoughtfully at the second option, his mind turning.
The idea stemmed from something he'd noticed outside Mondstadt earlier — when he'd seen Klee surrounded by hilichurls.
Those hilichurls had been classified as members of the Wanderers.
That meant the system's options weren't fixed — they could vary.
And the information implied by this second choice intrigued him deeply.
"The Wanderers might not necessarily know these guys were taken out by me."
Did that mean their orders came from someone else?
Someone not their leader?
In Mondstadt, the Fatui's local overseer — the Eighth Harbinger, La Signora — was known simply as the Lady.
But Kairo didn't believe for a second that the Lady was the true head of the Vagrants.
As that thought passed through his mind, his gaze shifted to the third option.
The Wildfire.
An enemy of the Wanderers — in other words, opposed to the Fatui.
Could that mean… the Knights of Favonius?
If he spread a few rumors, would it pit the Fatui against themselves?
Unlikely.
The Fatui wouldn't fall into internal strife over mere gossip.
And it wasn't as though he could make them do it, either.
Besides, it was late at night, and this part of town was deserted.
No Knights of Favonius were patrolling nearby.
The Fatui and the Knights had always been at odds.
He could go and seek out the Knights, of course — perhaps find Acting Grand Master Jean and report what he'd seen.
But that would mean exposing his hand completely, revealing too much.
Not to mention he'd have to march himself over to the headquarters in the dead of night.
Whether he'd even be able to see Jean was another question — he'd probably get stopped at the gate first.
Too troublesome.
And besides, that way he'd lose out on the second reward.
The so-called "Fragment of the Preservation Core" wasn't of much use to him anyway.
Better to sit back and watch how things unfolded.
After all, the death of those Fatui elites would still be a significant loss to their forces in Mondstadt.
His goal was to secure rewards that benefited him.
And with that, Kairo made his decision.
"Time to go."
Feeling the fatigue creeping into his body, Kairo rubbed his temples.
Even though he had obtained Clara's Resonance Ability — "Promise of the Belobog Forge", his body was still that of an ordinary human.
While the awakening of that power had strengthened him somewhat, he was still, ultimately, flesh and blood.
Not that he minded.
With this system of reversal on his side, he would only continue to grow stronger — even surpassing his limitations.
With enough ingenuity, even a single spark of power could ignite something tremendous.
Thinking so, Kairo turned and began walking home, disappearing into the quiet streets.
At this hour, the night was deep.
Under the scattered glow of lamplight, Mondstadt's streets looked peaceful and serene.
A gentle breeze carried the faint scent of grass and wine — the fragrance of freedom that defined the City of Wind.
Yet beneath that calm surface, something was off.
A faint, lingering heat wavered through the air — subtle, but unnatural.
Like embers refusing to die, it drifted with the night wind.
On a distant street, Kaeya stood atop a ledge, his gaze sharp as he peered into the distance.
His brows furrowed slightly as he sensed the fading ripples of elemental energy.
Though the trace was rapidly dissipating, his keen senses picked up its peculiarity.
This wasn't ordinary Pyro energy — it was wild, scorching, even tinged with aggression.
A brief but violent battle had taken place here.
"How strange…"
Kaeya murmured, a glint of steel flashing through his gray-blue eyes.
Pyro Element traces weren't rare in Mondstadt — taverns, forges, or even reckless alchemical gadgets could cause them.
But this… this was different.
Short-lived, yes — but far too intense, and filled with the scent of destruction.
Kaeya didn't believe in coincidences.
And the fact that something like this occurred in the dead of night — within Mondstadt itself — made it all the more suspicious.
The energy had been powerful enough that even from afar, he had sensed it.
This was no accident.
This was the aftermath of combat.
"Seems someone's been having quite the night…"
Kaeya chuckled softly, his tone nonchalant — but the gravity in his eyes betrayed his true concern.
Without hesitation, he leapt down from the ledge, landing smoothly on the cobblestone street below.
His indigo hair fluttered in the breeze, the deep-blue and white cape of the Knights of Favonius swaying elegantly behind him.
He set off toward the source of the disturbance, boots clicking rhythmically against the stone.
A few Knights of Favonius were still patrolling the streets, but none had noticed the abnormal elemental traces.
Only Kaeya — who had yet to retire for the night — sensed the irregularity.
He didn't rush, maintaining his usual composed pace, though his eyes darted sharply from shadow to shadow, searching for clues.
Soon, he arrived at the spot where the elemental energy was strongest — a quiet corner of the city.
Under the pale moonlight, Mondstadt's streets lay still.
But in that stillness lingered the scent of blood — faint but unmistakable — mixed with the scorched tang of burnt air.
Kaeya stepped slowly into the remains of the battle.
Then, as his gaze fell to the ground before him, the faint smile vanished from his lips — replaced by a look of utter shock.
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