Chapter 47 — Venti Endures the Humiliation
Kael felt a little peeved. He was supposed to be the one drawing attention — the new force behind the chat group, the one who could actually purify Abyssal corruption — yet whenever he appeared alongside Venti, people always noticed the bard first.
Was his presence not dramatic enough? Perhaps he needed a grander entrance next time: a flare of light, a gust of wind, some poetic thunderclap. After all, by rights he had become the superior of Venti and the others in ways that didn't show on the surface.
He sighed, and with a quick, efficient motion pulled Diluc into the chat group. Then, without ceremony, Kael vanished. Before he left, though, he couldn't resist taking a few bottles of Dawn Winery's finest from Diluc's cabinet — a small bribe to soothe his mood. A good drink, he decided, might improve a man's tolerance for being overshadowed.
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[Ding!]
Congratulations — Diluc has joined the chat group!
Jean: "Senior! Welcome, welcome!"
Venti: "Oh? Mr. Diluc? Welcome to the group! Hey — want points? Trade them for wine!"
Ningguang: "Diluc, owner of Dawn Winery? Welcome aboard!"
Diluc felt the flood of information hit him: a new network of power, an exchange where points yielded training, strength, even the ability to cleanse Abyssal corruption. His mind raced. Who was the stranger who'd just left? Who was the figure who'd stepped through the doorway and then vanished? Why had that person been able to enter the group and grant power so casually?
If Venti — the Anemo Archon — couldn't cleanse Abyssal corruption alone, who could? And if points could be traded for strength… then this was a resource he could not ignore. Revenge on Il Dottore, the Doctor, had always been burning at the back of his mind. If there was any way to grow stronger, he would take it.
He opened the exchange interface and began to scan the available options. Every usable ounce of power would be considered. He would train, he would prepare, and he would not rest until he could march to Snezhnaya and finish what needed finishing.
Then his eyes drifted to the member list. The names there mattered:
Venti — the bard, but also Barbatos, the Anemo Archon.
Jean — Acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius.
Zhongli — a figure of renown in Liyue.
Keqing and Ningguang — Liyue's heavyweights.
…and Kael — a stranger with extraordinary presence and an uncanny ability to purify the Abyss.
He'd misjudged Kael. He made a note to treat the man with more respect.
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"Then why haven't you put a stop to the Abyss?" Diluc asked bluntly.
Venti—here, casual, half-inebriated, and somehow luminous—spread his hands. "Because the Abyss is worse than you imagine. The catastrophe five hundred years ago nearly consumed Teyvat. Two Archons survived in the end — and I was one of them. I fell into a deep sleep afterward."
Diluc's jaw tightened. That fact landed like a stone: Venti had been one of the surviving Archons. If that was true, the other survivor must be Morax — Zhongli. It explained a lot about Liyue's stability and about the particular burdens these gods carried.
"So we keep this power hidden while we gather strength," Diluc said slowly, thinking the pieces through. "And we wait for the Traveler to arrive, because they might be able to cleanse corruption directly."
"You could put it that way," Venti admitted, expression losing its playfulness for a moment. "Our power is scattered, Kael's abilities are rare, and if I reveal myself too fully I'll draw attention we don't want. The Abyss watches. If they detect how weakened I truly am, they'll exploit it."
Diluc's face softened as he listened. Venti's confession — that he had deliberately dispersed or conserved portions of his power — made the bard's slovenly manner meaningful in a new light. Maybe this irreverent, wine-loving figure had done more for Mondstadt than the town's gossip ever gave him credit for.
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"If we gain points by hunting monsters, I'll join you tomorrow," Diluc said. "You and Jean hunted today, didn't you?"
Venti blinked, then grinned sheepishly. "Yes, Jean and I cleared a spot. Points galore. Of course you'll get yours — provided you don't expect me to pay with cash." He made a face. "Trade for wine, you know how it is."
Diluc allowed himself the smallest of smiles. "I don't expect charity, bard. I'll take whatever I can earn."
Venti waved a hand. "Ah, but you've already figured me out, haven't you? You know who I am." A helpless, almost childlike expression crossed his face for a second. "Fine. Keep my secret for a little longer? Let the fellow put on his antics. I'm terrible at disguise."
Diluc chuckled deep and dry. "I won't tell. But I won't give you a bottle for nothing either. If you want wine, you'll trade points like everyone else."
Venti groaned theatrically. "You are as stingy as they say."
The conversation shifted when Diluc mentioned the Fatui. The word drew a shadow across the bard's features.
"The Fatui have been gathering intelligence on you," Diluc warned. "They're involved in plans here."
Venti's smile thinned. "La Signora, the Harbingers — and the Tsaritsa herself. Not everyone in the Fatui shares one mindset; some are factional, some have their own agendas. But the organization as a whole… yes. They watch. They manipulate."
Kael listened, the lines at his temples tightening. If the Fatui were taking an interest in Venti, then the stakes were higher than either of them had assumed. The Tsaritsa's aims were inscrutable, and her Harbingers powerful and ruthless. That the Fatui might attempt to leverage Mondstadt's current instability was not merely political posturing — it was a real threat.
Venti rubbed his temples. "We'll deal with them in time."
Diluc's eyes hardened. "We will get stronger. I swear — Mondstadt will never experience another Black Fire Incident under my watch."
Venti blinked at the phrase; then he laughed quietly, heartened. Even if he knew that Venti endured humiliation willingly for his own reasons, if that belief fired Diluc's resolve, it was useful. Let the warrior think the bard sacrificed for the city. If that was the lie they needed to inspire courage, Venti would play along. After all, a little theater had saved lives before now.
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Expansion: Diluc's Resolve
After the meeting broke up, Diluc lingered alone beneath the lanterns outside Angel's Share. Wine-smoke curled from the tavern's windows; the night air smelled faintly of smoke and chestnuts. He clenched his fists until his knuckles whitened.
The Doctor. The experiments. The sick children. Those memories were fire in his blood. He had always preferred to work alone — had sworn not to rely on the Knights after certain betrayals — but now he recognized the need for allies. If the Abyss Order's influence had spread so widely that Archons and gods were being studied and corrupted, then vengeance required more than sword and pyre.
He opened the chat group again. Kael's name blinked at the top, joined by Jean, Venti, Barbara, and others. A token menu displayed items that could be purchased with points: training manuals, refined techniques, temporary purifications, and even a "year of reduced Abyssal erosion" — whatever that meant technically. But the options were real. A price tag showed how many points a given enhancement would cost.
Diluc closed his eyes. He thought of his father, of the Dawn Winery's flames and the family honor it represented, and of the unhealed wound left by Dottore's monstrous science. He tapped the "training" tab.
If this new system worked — if points could be converted into real, lasting strength — he would bury himself in it. He would train, purge, practice until steel and fire and will fused together. He would stand between Mondstadt and the abyss until his last breath.
And if Il Dottore stood in his way, he would find him, and end him.
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Expansion: Venti's Small, Strange Comfort
Back in an alley, Venti slumped against a barrel, staring at the starlight. People called him a carefree bard, a lazy drunk, and all manner of unflattering things. It was, by now, the role he'd perfected. But there were nights — like this one — when the Maker's laughter seemed to hollow. The Abyss pressed, the Fatui watched, and the ley lines thinned.
Yet, if he could exchange a little pride for protection, or endure a little mockery to give someone else the courage to stand, then so be it. He drew a breath that tasted faintly of wine and resolution. Tomorrow, he would be the benevolent, ridiculous bard again, singing and collecting strangers' stories — and in the quiet between songs, he would steal away to gather points, purify a corrupted node, and send a small, secret blessing down to those who fought.
He had his ways.
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Later, in the chat group:
Venti (baritone, with a wink): "Diluc — trade points. Wine awaits. And keep our little secret."
Diluc (concise): "Understood."
Kael (softly): "We move together. Carefully."
The uneasy alliance had formed. It was messy. It was fragile. But it existed.
For Kael, that was enough for now.