Chapter 26: Venti — Am I Too Worn Out?
Tartaglia truly lived up to his reputation as Zhongli's Wallet.
Extravagant didn't even begin to describe him—he could casually pull out 10 million Mora as though it were spare change.
In fact, word around Liyue Harbor was that, in the past month alone, Tartaglia had already poured over 500 million Mora into charitable causes.
He had sponsored schools, funded city cleanups, and paid for new roads and bridges. Unsurprisingly, this had done wonders for his reputation.
To the people, the once-feared Fatui Harbinger now looked like a benevolent foreign benefactor.
And Tartaglia loved every second of it.
After all, he wasn't spending his own Mora—it was all Fatui funding. Mora that had been intended for "diplomatic operations."
So why not make friends while spending it?
---
"You're Really Too Generous"
Kael grinned as he pocketed the 10-million-Mora check.
"Tartaglia, you're way too generous. You and I—we're practically brothers now."
"Brothers?" Tartaglia blinked in confusion. "Since when?"
Kael just gave him a teasing smile, saying nothing more.
Tartaglia wasn't sure what to make of it. For all his cunning, Kael was difficult to read—sometimes cold, sometimes playful, but always composed, as if everything he did was deliberate.
Still, he liked that about him.
"Anyway," Kael said, switching the topic, "Zhongli's been preoccupied lately. It might take him a while to finish what he's dealing with. I'll write you a letter of introduction—when you get the chance to meet him, hand it over."
Tartaglia's expression brightened. "Thank you! I really appreciate that."
In truth, he wasn't even sure why he wanted to meet Zhongli so badly.
When the Tsaritsa had sent him to Liyue, she'd told him, 'Seek out a man named Zhongli.'
No reason. No explanation. Just an order.
That alone had made Tartaglia suspicious.
Zhongli must have some kind of secret connection to Snezhnaya—or perhaps to the Tsaritsa herself.
But approaching him directly would be risky. It would expose too much.
Through Kael, however? That was the perfect opportunity.
Kael nodded with a faint smile. "No need to thank me. We're friends, after all."
---
The Debt of the Tsaritsa
Tartaglia didn't know it, but Kael already understood exactly what was going on.
There would be no "deal" between Zhongli and the Tsaritsa—not truly.
The contract to hand over the Geo Gnosis had already been written in the stars long before Tartaglia arrived in Liyue.
Zhongli's debt to the Tsaritsa was eternal, paid not in Mora, but in faith and sacrifice.
So, no matter how much Mora Tartaglia threw around, it would never truly belong to the Fatui.
It was repayment.
And when Kael later mentioned this to Zhongli, the old god had only smiled softly.
> "It's fine. The Mora comes from the Northland Bank, yes—but the debt belongs to the Tsaritsa.
Consider it… a small interest payment."
To Zhongli, money was transient. He had already paid for his ideals with his life as an Archon.
What was a few million Mora, compared to that?
---
Arrival in Mondstadt
Several days later, Kael crossed Stone Gate, the natural border between Liyue and Mondstadt.
He didn't rush the journey. To anyone watching, he looked like a typical traveler—calm, unhurried, perhaps slightly mysterious, but ordinary.
Of course, in truth, Kael never actually slept outdoors.
Each night, when the stars came out, he simply folded space and teleported back to his residence in Liyue to rest.
Why bother camping when you could traverse dimensions?
---
The Whisper of the Wind
As Kael stepped past the border, a soft gust swept across the road.
He stopped immediately, his eyes narrowing.
This was no ordinary wind.
There was something sacred woven into it—something alive.
This was Barbatos' wind.
Kael closed his eyes and let the breeze wash over him. It carried the scent of apples and freedom… but also exhaustion, faint and ancient.
And in that instant, understanding struck him.
---
The True Miracle of Barbatos
He remembered what he had once known:
Long ago, Mondstadt had been a frozen wasteland, buried beneath eternal snow.
The tyrant Decarabian had raised towering walls of wind to shield his city from the cold, but those same winds became cages.
When Barbatos overthrew him, he didn't just destroy the storm—he changed the world itself.
At first, Kael had dismissed the story as simple divine exaggeration. Gods bending the weather was nothing new.
But standing here now, feeling the living pulse of the wind itself, Kael realized just how much power—and love—it took.
Barbatos hadn't merely blown the snow away.
He had altered the climate of an entire region—inviting the southern monsoons to replace the eternal frost, reshaping the land into a paradise of freedom.
And even after he had fallen into slumber, even after centuries of neglect, that wind still blew.
The cycle continued—constant, unwavering, self-sustaining.
Kael's expression softened.
No wonder Venti's combat power seemed "weak."
The majority of his divine strength wasn't spent on battle—it was spent maintaining Mondstadt's balance.
Every gentle breeze, every apple-scented gust that kissed the city's spires, was proof of his silent guardianship.
For the first time, Kael truly felt it—
The love a god could have for their people.
Barbatos, the so-called "lazy" god, was anything but.
He had never stopped protecting his land. Not even once.
---
Kael exhaled softly, gazing toward the distant city of windmills and song.
"Since you're here," he said quietly, "come out already, Barbatos."
He released a faint ripple of divine energy—light and subtle, yet carrying the unmistakable authority of Celestia.
The air shimmered.
And in the distance, a green figure slowly took shape.
---
The Bard of the Wind
The man who appeared was draped in emerald and white, his lyre slung casually over his back. His steps were light, almost weightless, as though carried by the breeze itself.
But his expression… was uncharacteristically grave.
Venti—the Anemo Archon, Barbatos—stood before Kael.
The usual playful glint in his eyes was gone, replaced by something else—shock.
"Who… are you?" he asked softly, though he already sensed the answer.
Because the aura before him was not mortal.
It was divine.
Pure, ancient, and familiar.
It was Celestia itself.
Venti's fingers tightened around his lyre. "No… that's impossible. Celestia can't simply change hands. What happened to the old one?"
Kael met his gaze calmly.
"The previous Celestia has fallen," he said. "They gave their life to protect Teyvat. And I… am what remains."
The wind stilled.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Venti's eyes trembled.
He wanted to ask so much—about the fall, about the war, about why he hadn't sensed it. But the weight in Kael's voice told him enough.
Five hundred years.
In just five hundred years, even the heavens had changed.
And for the first time in centuries, Barbatos wondered—
Had he slept too long?
Had he grown so weary that the world no longer needed him?
The god of freedom lowered his head slightly, a faint smile touching his lips.
"Am I… really that worn out?"
Kael said nothing.
He didn't need to.
The wind carried his silence—gentle, endless, forgiving.
---
End of Chapter 26: Venti — Am I Too Worn Out?