Genshin Impact: Villain Impact

R-18 Scene

Lucas leaned in, his breath warm against Eula's cheek. He pressed his lips softly to hers, a gentle kiss that lingered just long enough to make her heart race. Eula's eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into the kiss, her lips parting slightly.

"Mmn~"

Lucas deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing lightly against hers. Eula let out a soft moan, her hands finding their way into his hair. The room seemed to spin around them as they lost themselves in the moment.

When they finally broke apart, both breathless, Lucas trailed kisses down her jawline and neck, sending shivers of pleasure through Eula. His hands found their way to her chest, gently cupping her breasts through her thin pajama top. Eula gasped, arching her back slightly as his thumbs circled her nipples, feeling them harden under his touch.

"You're being too forward," she whispered, but her body betrayed her, leaning into his caress.

Lucas smiled, his hands moving to the buttons of her top. He undid them slowly, one by one, revealing more of her smooth, pale skin. He pushed the fabric aside, his eyes drinking in the sight of her bare breasts. Leaning down, he took one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before sucking gently.

Eula moaned, gripping his shoulders tightly. Lucas lavished attention on her breasts, his mouth and hands igniting a fire of desire within her. He could feel her heart racing, her breath coming in quick gasps.

After a few moments, Lucas lifted his head, his eyes locking with Eula's. He offered her a soft, reassuring smile before trailing kisses down her stomach, moving lower. Eula watched him, her breath hitching as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her pajama pants and slowly pulled them down, revealing her completely.

Lucas caressed and kissed her plump thighs, making her squirm in anticipation.

He looked up at her, a playful glint in his eyes. "Can I taste you first instead?" he asked with a teasing smile.

"Y-You're shameless," she stammered, her voice a blend of embarrassment and longing. Yet, she didn't push him away. Instead, a soft sigh escaped her lips as she melted into his touch.

Eula nodded, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling with desire. Lucas grinned, lowering his head between her legs. He began with soft, tender kisses, causing Eula to gasp and squirm. He took his time, gradually building her pleasure, his tongue and lips working wonders on her most sensitive spot.

"Ahhhn~ Ah~ Ah~ Hyahn~"

Eula's moans echoed in the room, her hands clutching the sheets tightly. Lucas sensed her nearing the edge, her body tensing with each wave of pleasure. He glanced up at her, their eyes locking as he brought her closer to climax.

Just as Eula was about to reach her peak, Lucas pulled back slightly, a teasing smile playing on his lips. Eula let out a frustrated groan. Lucas chuckled, moving back up her body, his lips finding hers once more.

"Not so fast," he whispered against her lips. "I want you to taste yourself on me first."

"Y-you're so mean," she murmured, her voice laced with embarrassment, her cheeks burning as she complied, her tongue exploring his mouth, savoring the sweetness of her own arousal. Lucas groaned, pressing his body against hers, she could feel his hardness pressing against her thigh.

Eula's hands wandered to his pants, her fingers fumbling with the buttons. Lucas assisted her, quickly shedding his clothes until he stood as bare as she was. Eula's eyes widened as she took in his form, her breath catching slightly.

"Go ahead," Lucas urged, his voice thick with desire. "Touch me."

Eula reached out hesitantly, her fingers wrapping around his cock. Lucas groaned, his hips instinctively jerking at her touch. Eula looked up at him, a mix of curiosity and desire shining in her eyes. She began to stroke him slowly, her grip tightening as her confidence grew.

Lucas let out a low moan, his head tilting back slightly. Eula watched him, her own arousal intensifying as she witnessed the pleasure she was giving him. She leaned down, her tongue teasingly brushing against the tip of his cock. Lucas gasped, his fingers weaving through her hair.

Eula took it into her mouth, her lips and tongue exploring cautiously at first, then with increasing eagerness. Lucas groaned, his hips moving in sync with her rhythm. He gazed down at her, his eyes brimming with desire and affection.

"Sister Eula..." he murmured, his voice thick with pleasure. "You're incredible."

Eula looked up at him, her eyes shining with pride and desire. She continued to pleasure him, her own body yearning for more. Lucas could feel himself getting closer, his body tensing with each wave of pleasure. 

[R-18 Scene ends]

Just then-

"What the heck? If you forgot your bag, get it yourself! Why make Paimon fly back just because I'm faster?"

Grumbling to herself, Paimon flew through the window into the room—only to freeze, her eyes widening at the scene before her.

"You… What are you two doing?!"

Both Lucas and Eula looked shocked. Though they had locked the door, neither had anticipated Paimon's entrance via the window.

Before Lucas could explain, Paimon puffed up angrily and declared, "You're sneaking treats in the blanket, aren't you?! What are you feeding Eula? Is it Sweet Madame?"

It seemed Paimon's innocent mind had completely misinterpreted the situation, assuming Eula was simply enjoying some secret snacks.

"Y-Yes, you got me!" Lucas forced a laugh, pulling the blanket tighter around him. "It's just as you say."

"So that's why you rushed us out!" Paimon crossed her arms, huffing. "You're spoiling Eula with extra snacks behind our backs. I want some too!"

"No way!" Eula peeked out from under the blanket, looking flustered. "It's something… you won't be able to handle."

"Who do you think you're talking to?" Paimon patted her belly confidently. "Paimon's stomach leads to a whole other dimension!"

Of course, Eula wasn't referring to the capacity of Paimon's stomach, but rather… something else entirely.

"In any case, it's off-limits!" Eula blurted out, raising her voice in nervous defiance. "I love it too much to share!"

"Hmph. I understand." Paimon nodded seriously, her tone oddly mature. "If it's something you love, then it's only fair you keep it for yourself. I won't eat it."

Lucas sighed in relief. However, Paimon quickly followed up with a mischievous grin.

"But I'm telling Traveler you two were eating snacks without me!"

"No, you can't!" Lucas interjected hastily. "Paimon, this has to stay between us!"

Though Paimon might not grasp the full context, sharing this with others could lead to unintended chaos.

Predictably, Paimon's expression twisted into a cheeky, almost villainous grin.

"I'll keep your secret, but only if you promise to meet one condition," she said, blinking innocently.

Paimon had learned the art of bargaining!

Lucas sighed but nodded. "Alright, what's your condition?"

Paimon's demeanor shifted as she replied with surprising seriousness: "Promise me you'll protect Traveler during this mission."

"You…" Lucas was momentarily taken aback by her earnestness. "You seem unusually serious about this."

"Ugh! You're so annoying!" Paimon puffed up her cheeks, flustered. "Can't I be serious for once?"

"Got it," Lucas chuckled. "Even if you didn't say anything, I'd still do my best to protect Lumine… and everyone else too."

"Good." Paimon sighed in relief, then added with a smirk, "But if anything happens to Traveler, you'll have to take care of me instead!"

With that, the little companion grabbed Lumine's bag and zipped back out the window, leaving Lucas and Eula in awkward silence.

"That was close," Lucas muttered, wiping his brow. "Let's just leave it here for now."

"No way." Eula's expression turned resolute. "Lawrence family rule number five: finish everything you start."

"Wasn't it rule six?" Lucas quipped.

After all, he had personally written the so-called "Lawrence Family Rules" back in the simulation.

"How do you know that?" Eula asked, confused.

"I, uh, just guessed," Lucas stammered before ruffling her hair to change the subject. "If you're so committed to finishing things, let's get moving. We don't have much time."

"Don't mess up my hair…!" Eula huffed.

Meanwhile, at an Abyss Order Stronghold

"Prince, I humbly report…"

Kulechet stood before the Abyss Order's leader, her head bowed low in shame. Her voice was tinged with guilt. "The mission failed. I couldn't retrieve the human girl. I await your punishment."

The so-called "Prince" was a golden-haired young man with a gentle, ethereal beauty. He was none other than Lumine's brother, Aether, who had once appeared in her dreams.

No one knew what had happened during the long years while Lumine had slept—what had transformed Aether into the Prince of the Abyss Order.

"I see," Aether replied calmly. "It doesn't matter. Proceed with the original plan. Even if she is my sister, she cannot stand in the way of the Abyss Order."

"She's your sister?" Kulechet seemed taken aback.

Hearing this revelation, she felt a momentary sense of relief, followed by a deep wave of despondency.

What does it matter? she thought bitterly. This broken, tainted body of mine has long been unworthy of the noble, divine Prince.

"That was a long time ago," Aether said, glancing at Kulechet with an impassive expression. "Tell me, why did the mission fail?"

"It was… a man named Lucas," Kulechet answered, her tone complicated. "I was no match for him."

In every sense of the word, she thought silently.

"Don't blame yourself," Aether said. "I trust your abilities. Next time, I expect better results."

"This man…" Kulechet bowed her head, her voice firm. "I have a feeling he'll become a major obstacle for the Abyss Order in the future. When the time comes, I'll bring you his head!"

Back at Dawn Winery

"Ah-choo!"

Lucas sneezed loudly at the winery's entrance, completely unaware that he had already caught someone's attention.

"You seem a little off," Jean said with concern. "I'm sorry—it's my fault for insisting on watching the mirages last night. Did you not get enough rest?"

"No, no, it's not your fault!" Lucas quickly reassured her. "I'll be fine in no time."

After all, he thought wryly, not everyone gets to enjoy a wake-up nibble from Eula.

He glanced toward Eula, who was standing nearby. To his surprise, she was looking at him too. Their eyes met briefly before Eula turned away, her face slightly flushed.

"It seems everyone's ready to go," Diluc said, stepping out of the mansion. "Shall we depart?"

Unlike his usual dark attire, Diluc was now wearing a black-and-red jacket, his long crimson hair tied into a neat ponytail. He looked sharp and composed, as though fully prepared for battle.

----

"Thank you, Master Diluc, for your hospitality," Jean said with a nod. "We will be leaving now."

"Good," Diluc replied impassively. "Let's go."

"W-What?" Jean exclaimed, startled. "Are you saying you plan to assist the Knights of Favonius in this expedition?"

Jean was well aware of Diluc's strength. Even she wasn't confident in defeating him in combat. If he were to join their operation, the odds of success would increase significantly.

"I'm not assisting the Knights of Favonius," Diluc said coldly. "I'm here to assist Lucas. I don't want my friend to be put in danger."

"I see." Jean smiled faintly, misinterpreting his motive. She assumed Diluc's reasoning was just an excuse. Little did she know… he genuinely came only for Lucas.

To Diluc, Lucas's position in the Ragnvindr family lineage was nearly as important as his own—perhaps even higher than Kaeya's.

Although Diluc often expressed disdain for the Knights of Favonius, he had once been part of their ranks. Combined with his extraordinary strength and the goodwill he demonstrated by hosting them at Dawn Winery, the members of the expedition were more than happy to have him join them.

After all, no one would complain about improving their chances of survival.

Perhaps thanks to the good rest they had the previous night, the expedition team moved much faster today.

After bypassing Wolvendom, they finally reached their destination: the ruins of Stormterror's Lair.

The area was a massive basin and the location of Old Mondstadt.

Even before they approached, the team felt the oppressive force of strong winds. Upon reaching the entrance, they encountered a massive storm barrier blocking their way.

"A barrier formed from wind?"

Jean took a few steps back, resting her hand on the hilt of her sword. "Everyone, step aside. Let me see if I can break through it."

Besides Venti, who was concealing his true identity, Jean was the only one in the group wielding an Anemo Vision.

Her strength was already remarkable among the younger generation, and after her trials on the Golden Apple Archipelago, she had grown even stronger.

"Let's see how you handle this new move," Jean said, swinging her longsword forcefully. A massive wind blade surged toward the storm barrier with a howl. "Wind Blade Strike!"

Impressive!

The team couldn't help but silently praise her. Even Lucas nodded in approval.

Though his own strength far surpassed Jean's, it was the result of many "cheats" along the way. Jean, barely in her twenties, had achieved such prowess through sheer effort.

However, the fierce wind blade struck the storm barrier, leaving only a faint crack before dissipating into elemental particles.

"It's not enough," Jean muttered, frowning. "Looks like I'll need to try a few more times."

With that, she resumed her attacks, slashing her sword repeatedly at the barrier.

"Hey, Venti," Lucas whispered, standing beside him. "You should have a way to deal with this, right? You are the Anemo Archon, after all."

"Of course I do," Venti replied confidently. "Cover me while I play the Skyward Harp. With it, I can—oh no! My harp! I completely forgot—Jean confiscated it after Eula arrested me!"

Barbatos… can't you take anything seriously?

Lucas sighed inwardly, frustrated by Venti's unreliability.

Meanwhile, Jean had unleashed over a dozen wind blades, but the cracks on the storm barrier barely grew.

"Jean, take a break," Lucas said, stepping forward with a smile. "Let me give it a shot."

Unlike Jean, he didn't rely on elemental power. Instead, he stood before the storm barrier, drawing his fists close to his body as he exhaled slowly, seemingly gathering energy.

"You've got to be kidding…" Kaeya rubbed his chin, intrigued. "Does he really plan to break the storm barrier with his bare hands?"

The storm barrier, composed of violent, razor-sharp winds, was like a massive meat grinder. Even approaching it would cause countless lacerations on bare flesh.

"Heroic Intent…"

Golden energy began to emanate from Lucas's fist, growing brighter by the second. Suddenly, he struck the barrier with an explosive force, sending a shockwave rippling through the air. "Charging Fist!"

With Lucas's growing strength, his Charging Fist technique was far stronger than before. He no longer needed to endure attacks to accumulate energy and could charge up on his own.

His punch landed squarely on the crack Jean had created earlier. The impact triggered a deafening sonic boom, and the resulting shockwave knocked several nearby Knights of Favonius off their feet.

Even those with stronger footing, like Jean and Diluc, found themselves stumbling. The sheer force of the strike was staggering.

But what shocked everyone more was Lucas's sheer strength.

To destroy a storm barrier without using elemental power was a feat few could accomplish. Among the Knights of Favonius, perhaps only Grand Master Varka could match such raw power.

"Phew, that hurt!" Lucas shook his hand, turning to Jean with a grin. "Your earlier strikes really helped. Without them, I don't think I could've broken the barrier so easily."

His words were clearly meant to save Jean's pride. Most could see that her wind blades had barely scratched the surface.

It was Lucas's punch that had blasted a large hole through the barrier, highlighting the disparity in their strength.

Whispers began spreading among the group as they wondered: between Lucas and the renowned Diluc, who was stronger?

Suddenly, a massive fireball descended from the sky, hurtling toward the expedition team.

Diluc stepped forward, a claymore appearing in his hands. With a swift swing, he unleashed a fiery slash that collided with the fireball, creating a mid-air explosion.

"Enemy attack!"

The fireball's caster was revealed to be a floating Pyro Abyss Mage. Behind him were seven or eight more Abyss Mages, along with hordes of Hilichurls and Mitachurls.

"It seems we've walked into an ambush," Kaeya said, still calm. "Jean, leave this to us. You and the others go through the barrier and find Stormterror. Once we're done here, we'll join you."

Jean understood his reasoning. Their mission wasn't about overwhelming numbers. Taking too many people would be counterproductive. It was better to have them hold the rear and prevent any surprise attacks.

"We're counting on you," Jean said with a nod. "Stay safe."

Diluc glanced at Kaeya, who smirked. "What? Nothing you want to say to me?"

"These enemies aren't particularly challenging," Diluc replied dismissively. "Just don't die."

For someone as reserved as Diluc, those three words carried significant weight.

"Normally, I detest fighting these creatures," Kaeya murmured once the others had left. His usual smile faded into an uncharacteristic solemnity. "I'll try to make this as painless as possible… my fellow kin."

...

Ultimately, only five and a half members of the hundred-strong expedition team made it through the storm barrier: Lucas, Jean, Eula, Diluc, Lumine, and Paimon.

Venti remained outside, tasked with holding off the Abyss Order's pursuing forces alongside the rest of the team.

Of course, knowing Venti's personality, he'd likely slack off even if his strength was considerable.

A piercing dragon's roar suddenly echoed through the ruins. The towering, verdant dragon Dvalin spiraled through the sky before flying toward the distant central spire—a grand tower standing at the heart of Stormterror's Lair.

This was once the palace of Decarabian, the Tyrant of the Tower, the cruel ruler of Old Mondstadt.

From atop this spire, he had once surveyed the people who bowed to his will.

Now, the old tyrant was long gone, but a new threat lurked within the ruins.

"Look at those rings around the tower!" Paimon exclaimed, pointing at the three large circular barriers encircling the structure.

"Those are the Rings of Raging Winds," Jean explained. "I've read about them in historical texts. Decarabian constructed these barriers to protect his palace from invaders."

"Then doesn't Stormterror have a hard time getting home every day?" Paimon frowned.

"He flies," Lucas chuckled. "He doesn't need to walk."

"Oh, I see," Lumine said with a nod, looking serious. "In that case, Paimon, we'll leave the task of subduing Stormterror to you!"

"Got it! Leave it to me!" Paimon said confidently, puffing up her tiny chest. Then she folded her arms and pouted. "Wait a second! Are you serious? That big guy could eat me in one bite! And my flight... I definitely can't get through those rings, no matter how I try!"

Indeed, while Paimon could "float," she was incapable of true flight. Even if she managed to reach the rings, the violent winds would undoubtedly knock her back.

"What should we do?" Eula asked, frowning as she stared at the distant dragon's silhouette high above. "We can't just give up here."

"Actually, these Rings of Raging Winds can only be deactivated with specific elemental powers," Jean said thoughtfully. "The rebels who overthrew Decarabian's reign succeeded by breaking through these barriers with the help of heroes wielding three key elements."

"Wow, Jean seems to know a lot about this," Paimon said, tilting her head in curiosity. "But wasn't that over two thousand years ago?"

"I'm ashamed to admit it, but the ancestors of the Gunnhildr Clan were among the rebels who fought against Decarabian," Jean sighed. "Many of the secrets from that time have been passed down within my family."

"What's there to be ashamed of?" Lumine asked, puzzled. "Wasn't Decarabian a tyrant? Overthrowing him sounds like an act of justice."

"True, but as knights, betraying one's monarch is still a dishonorable act," Jean said with a touch of melancholy. "The three clan leaders who destroyed the barriers were Gunnhildr with Anemo, Lawrence with Cryo, and the now-extinct Imunlaukr Clan with Pyro…"

Ironically, Decarabian had designed the barriers to ensure no single clan could overthrow him.

But his oppressive rule was so despised that the three clans united against him, turning his airtight defenses into his undoing.

"Anemo and Cryo are covered," Eula remarked with a cold snort. "But how can we be sure Diluc will help us?"

"Sir Diluc's involvement was unexpected," Jean admitted, pulling a few round bombs from her pouch. "I had originally planned to use Klee's elemental bombs to simulate Pyro."

That's… probably grounds for vandalism charges.

"Wow! So we're going to see the three clans unite again to storm the tower?" Paimon said excitedly. "This must be fate's wheel turning full circle!"

"Correction: the Ragnvindr Clan wasn't one of the original three," Diluc said without looking back, walking toward the tower. "And I've never believed in fate."

Indeed, the Ragnvindr Clan only rose to prominence after assisting Vennessa in liberating Mondstadt, eventually replacing the fallen Imunlaukr Clan.

The mechanisms controlling the Rings of Raging Winds were distributed in a triangular formation around the tower. Lucas and his companions quickly located the first one. The ancient platform was battered and weathered, but the crimson orb atop it still emitted a faint glow.

"I'll handle the first one," Diluc said, summoning a burst of flames that engulfed the orb.

As soon as the Pyro element made contact, the orb glowed brightly, and one of the rings surrounding the tower dimmed.

"That was easy," Eula said, though her tone held doubt. "Doesn't seem like the defenses were all that impressive after all."

"It's not that simple," Diluc said, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead. "I have to keep channeling Pyro to maintain the mechanism. If I stop, the ring will reactivate immediately."

The group finally understood. Decarabian's design was cunning—activating the barriers required constant energy input, forcing rebellious clans to dedicate their strongest fighters to holding the rings open.

"No time to waste!" Diluc said, uncharacteristically tense. "I can hold this for half an hour at most. Jean, Eula, you need to activate the other two mechanisms. As for subduing Stormterror… Lucas, I'm counting on you."

This wasn't a matter of shirking responsibility—it was simply the only viable strategy.

Diluc's trust in Lucas spoke volumes. In all of Mondstadt, there were likely no more than three people he would entrust with such a task.

"I'll do my best," Lucas nodded firmly. "Leave it to me!"

Lumine clenched her fists. "Paimon and I will help too!"

"I'll, uh… do my best not to mess things up!" Paimon added nervously.

With the situation urgent, Jean and Eula quickly located the other two mechanisms. However, due to their slightly weaker elemental output compared to Diluc, their ability to maintain the mechanisms was more limited.

Lucas and Lumine wasted no time. As soon as the rings were disabled, they rushed into the tower.

Inside, both were taken aback.

"This is… way too tall!" Paimon exclaimed, craning her neck so far she nearly toppled over.

The interior of the tower was dilapidated from centuries of decay. Even if there were stairs, it would take far longer than half an hour to reach the top.

"Look, there's an wind current here!" Lumine pointed to a gust of wind swirling upward. "If we use Anemo, we might be able to ride it to the top."

Lucas hesitated but sighed. "At this point, we don't have a choice. Let's give it a shot."

Climbing the tower floor by floor would be exhausting enough to render them incapable of fighting.

With that, the two and a half companions stepped into the wind current.

Although Lumine didn't possess a Vision, she had already unlocked the first element: Anemo.

This uncanny alignment with the mechanisms and the wind current struck Lucas as strange. It felt as though everything—from the three elemental barriers to the wind current—had been scripted, perfectly tailored to their group.

Of course, it might just be a coincidence. If there really were a "script," who could possibly be its author?

"Ready when you are!" Lumine said, gathering Anemo energy in her hands. "Three, two, one—lift off… wait, what?"

---

Just as Lucas and Lumine were about to ascend via the wind current, Lucas suddenly extended his hand and pushed Lumine out of the airflow.

"This is as far as you go," Lucas said, smiling and waving. "Leave the rest to me."

"Wait just a second—"

Before Lumine could finish her sentence, Lucas was already soaring upward, carried by the rising winds. In the blink of an eye, his figure disappeared into the heights of the massive tower, hundreds of meters above.

"Damn it!" Lumine stomped her foot in frustration, glaring at the vanishing figure of Lucas. "That guy—he totally sees me as a burden, doesn't he?"

"Maybe this is just his way of protecting you," Paimon murmured softly. "Looks like he hasn't forgotten the promise he made to me…"

"Huh?" Lumine looked puzzled. "What promise did he make to you?"

"N-Nothing!" Paimon quickly shook her head. "So, what do we do now?"

"What else can we do?" Lumine huffed, glancing around at the now-fading wind current. "We climb to the top and give him a good scolding when we catch up!"

Meanwhile, Lucas gently descended onto the summit of the tower, carried by the breeze.

Everything around him seemed minuscule, like dust in the vast expanse.

The architecture at the summit hinted at the grandeur of Decarabian's palace in its prime. Though the walls were crumbled and the columns collapsed, the throne at the apex of the staircase still radiated an oppressive aura.

Even coated with a thick layer of dust, it seemed untouched by the swirling winds that had worn everything else around it.

So, this is where the tyrant Decarabian once sat, looking down upon his subjects as they bowed in submission?

For reasons unknown, Lucas found himself momentarily forgetting the mission to subdue Stormterror. Compelled by an inexplicable urge, he began ascending the staircase, step by step, until he stood before the throne.

[What's the matter? Thinking of sitting down and getting a taste of what it felt like to be the tyrant?]

The system, silent for so long, suddenly teased him.

"I feel like… something is calling to me," Lucas murmured.

As his fingers brushed against the throne, the dust that had settled on it was swept away in an instant. He noticed countless inscriptions etched into the stone.

It was written in Old Mondstadt script—a language long abandoned—but Lucas found himself instinctively understanding its meaning.

"'I am Decarabian, God of Storms and Lord of the Tower. Upon this throne, I inscribe the chronicles of my life...'"

[Congratulations, host. You've triggered a special condition and unlocked the exclusive Simulation: Broken Dreams of the God King.]

"Exclusive Simulation?" Lucas frowned. "How come you never told me about this before? Aren't we supposed to be on the same side?"

[It's not that I hid it from you. Exclusive Simulations have extremely rare activation conditions—you might not encounter one even once in your lifetime.]

[In short, certain actions or events must meet specific criteria to activate an exclusive Simulation.]

[Exclusive Simulations come with preselected talents tied to the character being simulated. You won't be able to choose new ones.]

[However, just like with standard Simulations, you can still keep one talent permanently after the simulation ends.]

It seemed touching the throne had been the trigger for this simulation.

The life he was about to simulate was undoubtedly that of the Tower Lord himself.

Now wasn't the ideal time to engage in a simulation, but considering the strength of Decarabian's talents, any opportunity to enhance his power before battling Stormterror was worth taking.

"Activate the Simulation!"

[Exclusive Simulation Activated]

[Starting Talents]

[Majestic Aura (Gold)]: You naturally exude a regal presence, making it easier for weaker beings to submit to you. The more creatures that pledge allegiance to you, the stronger you become.

[Endless Tempest (Gold)]: As the Lord of Wind, you possess unparalleled control over the Anemo element. Tornadoes dance to your command, and hurricanes bow to your will.

[Protective Gale (Purple)]: Blessed by ferocious winds, you are perpetually surrounded by cutting wind blades. The stronger you become, the greater their range and power.

Lucas couldn't believe his eyes.

Two gold talents and one purple talent—he'd never seen such an incredible starting setup in all his simulations.

Of course, it made sense. Decarabian was a god, after all. Without such formidable abilities, he wouldn't have risen to rule Old Mondstadt as a tyrant.

[Simulation Begins]

[Age 0: You are born in the desolate, ancient past, when the verdant earth still appeared pale as bone. As the incarnation of the tempest, you possess innate mastery over the winds. (Endless Tempest activated)]

[Age 17: As a storm god, you do not require training or study to wield immense power. Fierce wind blades surround you constantly, slicing apart anything that comes too close to protect you. (Protective Gale activated)]

[Age 34: A group of monsters attacks you, coveting the energy you harbor within. Though you have not yet learned to fight, they are shredded to pieces by your wind blades the moment they approach.]

[Age 67: Your divine power grows rapidly, but your awareness develops slowly. For a long time, you exist in a state of chaos. Over time, you begin to form a consciousness.]

[Age 81: You start to ponder the meaning of existence. For the first time, you experience an unfamiliar sensation—later, you will come to know this feeling as "loneliness."]

[Age 90: While wandering, you come across a wolf pup and find it endearing. You approach it, hoping to play, but your protective winds lash out, causing it to cry out in pain.]

[Hearing its cries, the mother wolf charges at you, mistaking your approach for an attack. Despite being shredded by your winds, she bites down on your arm, refusing to let go until her body collapses from her wounds.]

[The pup's gaze is filled with fear and hatred. You refrain from approaching it further, sighing in regret. Your winds are both your shield and your curse, granting you invulnerability but isolating you from all living things.]

[Age 134: You continue your aimless wanderings. Most creatures fear your power instinctively, but a few, desiring your abilities, attempt to attack you. Of course, they are swiftly defeated or torn apart.]

[With your protective winds, you fear no foe. Any assailant is unable to get close, and even projectiles or elemental attacks are torn to shreds.]

[Age 216: After two centuries, your reputation spreads. Seeking distraction from your solitude, you begin challenging opponents for sport. Yet your overwhelming strength leaves you without true rivals. Most beings either despise or fear you. Those who fear you are spared.]

[One such spared creature does not flee but kneels in reverence. For the first time, you feel a small spark of fulfillment.]

[You permit it to follow you, albeit at a distance. Your presence shields it from danger, as few enemies dare to challenge you.]

[Age 254: Gradually, more creatures join your ranks. Though you remain distant and silent, their reverence soothes your loneliness. Even if their loyalty stems from self-preservation, you take solace in their worship.]

[Age 318: Your followers form a settlement, constructing shrines and altars in your honor. They offer food and treasures as tribute. You accept it all, treating the settlement as your domain and patrolling it regularly.]

[Age 429: The settlement expands, but you are displeased. Over generations, the creatures' reverence wanes. Their descendants no longer fear or respect you as their ancestors did.]

---

[After all, there was no longer any force that could threaten them. Your existence seemed to gradually lose its meaning, and even the quality of tributes offered to you became increasingly poor.]

[Age 510: During one of your patrols, you unexpectedly discovered a "curious" creature. Unlike the monsters you were familiar with, these beings were far more adorable, lacking dense fur and rough skin. They wore strange coverings on their bodies. Later, you learned they were called "humans."]

[They could sing, dance, and make pleasing sounds using bamboo instruments. On their faces, you saw an expression you had never witnessed before—a smile.]

[You didn't approach them, choosing instead to observe from a distance. You didn't want to disrupt their happiness and harmony. After watching for a while, you reluctantly decided to leave.]

[However, on your way back, you unexpectedly encountered a human child being attacked by monsters. Although you had lost the intimidating presence of your prime, the monsters still dared not act recklessly and quickly fled.]

[You cleared a path through the tall grass with a gust of wind, and the child seemed to understand your intention. Surprisingly, she didn't run away in fear of your appearance or power. Instead, she bowed and said a word in her language before turning to leave.]

[You thought your meeting with the human girl was a mere accident. But a few months later, while patrolling the same area, you discovered that the girl was waiting for you, waving and calling out from a distance.]

[This time, you didn't leave. A longing stirred in your heart—a desire to "connect" with her. The monsters feared, respected, and revered you, but they had never accepted you. To them, you were merely a lofty protector.]

[You restrained your power as much as you could, staying several meters away to avoid harming her with the surrounding gusts. Yet, she seemed unbothered.]

[She offered you food—not raw meat or fruit, but a cooked dish. For the first time, you tasted something so delicious.]

[She began teaching you the human language. Pointing to herself and then to you, she taught you your first word—"friend."]

[Age 511: You became secret friends. You would meet at an agreed time, playing, learning, and talking. She even gave you a name—Decarabian, meaning "Wind Sweeping the Grasslands" in her language. Her name was Yuni.]

[Age 513: You learned how to take on a human form, a skill that wasn't difficult for you. Although Yuni didn't care about this, she was still thrilled and invited you to her settlement. You declined, knowing that being in a densely populated area could endanger them.]

[You had never been aware of "time," but now, for the first time, you found it unbearably slow, especially when waiting to meet Yuni.]

[Age 515: As usual, you met Yuni, but she seemed upset. She told you that her father wanted her to marry a boy from their tribe.]

[You asked what "marriage" meant, and Yuni explained that it was a bond where two people who loved each other would stay together forever.]

["I really like Yuni. Let's get married!" you blurted out but quickly shook your head. "That's not possible. Your family wouldn't agree."]

["No, let's get married!" To your surprise, Yuni's face lit up with excitement. "We can elope and be together forever."]

[The innocent girl and the naive god made a lifelong promise under the starry sky on the grasslands. Yuni went back to pack her belongings, and you prepared to bid farewell to your domain.]

[Returning to the shrine built for you, you found that the monsters now only offered tributes during celebrations. Yet you didn't mind. Sitting on your throne, you imagined a future filled with happiness.]

[You weren't sure how much time passed, but just as you were about to leave for your meeting, commotion erupted outside the shrine.]

[The monsters hadn't developed a "civilization," but their innate wildness occasionally led them to gather and celebrate. A bountiful hunt or a great victory in battle could spark such revelry.]

[As the shrine doors opened, you intended to announce your departure. Before you could speak, the monsters unexpectedly presented you with tributes for the first time in ages.]

[The moment you saw the tributes, your heart felt as if it had been shredded by a violent wind. The so-called "offerings" were a group of wounded humans—and Yuni was among them!]

[She spotted you immediately, and in her eyes, you saw a torrent of complex emotions.]

[To you, humans were endearing beings, but to these monsters, they were merely prey—cleverer than most, but prey nonetheless.]

[On the very day of your promise, the monsters discovered Yuni's settlement and attacked it.]

[You had never communicated with the monsters, so you couldn't command them to stop attacking humans. You had underestimated their lust for violence. Their slaughter wasn't driven by need, but by bloodthirsty instincts.]

[These tributes weren't offered out of reverence. Unlike their elders, these monsters hadn't witnessed your power or experienced your protection. They saw you merely as a ceremonial fixture.]

[Seeing Yuni gravely injured, you felt something for the first time—anger. With a flick of your hand, a blade of wind instantly shredded the monsters poised to strike.]

[The once-revered god unleashed their power, bringing not glory but endless slaughter.]

[The monsters couldn't fathom why you suddenly "went mad," but they took up arms against you. Laughably, after years of concealing your strength, they saw you only as a slightly formidable foe.]

[When they needed a god, they worshipped you. When they no longer did, they raised their blades without hesitation.]

[The battle was utterly one-sided. As the god of storms, you reclaimed the authority of the fierce winds, the gulf between mortals and gods as vast as earth and sky.]

[You watched as the once-small encampment you had seen grow over two centuries was obliterated in less than two hours.]

[Looking at the corpses of your "subjects," you felt no satisfaction, only emptiness. Returning to the shrine, you found Yuni too gravely injured to speak. You tried to heal her, but your proximity only worsened her wounds.]

["I'm sorry…" For the first time in your life, you apologized. Perhaps you were the first god to ever apologize to a mortal. Yet Yuni could no longer hear your voice. You finally understood how fragile human life could be.]

[Age 540: You resumed wandering, as you had centuries ago. Monsters still worshipped you out of fear, but you paid them no heed.]

[Age 665: You began to long for the feeling of being worshipped, a desire rooted in your very being. But being revered by these monsters meant nothing. Their faith was born of fear, not sincerity. You longed for subjects worthy of your love, just as you loved them in return.]

[Age 712: Over the years, you sought to rule various monsters, attempting to become their sovereign. Each attempt ended in failure. Their reverence was no different from that of savages—they saw you as a powerful figure to rely on, not as one they truly revered.]

[Age 803: One day, you crossed the borders of your former domain and entered a new territory. Here, you encountered an astonishing sight.]

[Humans! Many more humans than you had seen before, living in structures built of stone. Their clothing was not made of animal hides but fine, woven fabrics.]

[You thought to yourself, how wonderful it would be to be worshipped by these humans, to become their god. Almost instinctively, you moved closer, only to be stopped by a figure blocking your path.]

[It was a man with long black hair, wielding a spear. You soon realized that he possessed a power strikingly similar to your own—the power of a god.]

[Since your birth, your strength as a god had left you unmatched. But for the first time, this man made you feel a sense of oppression.]

["I am Morax, guardian of Liyue. State your purpose," the man said, his voice deep and commanding. You told him of your desire to become a god worshipped in Liyue.]

[Morax shook his head and said, "This land does not need a second god. Please leave."]

[But with your dream so close, how could you give up? You attacked him, summoning your fierce wind blades to strike.]

[Your wind blades, which had never met an obstacle they couldn't cut through, were effortlessly deflected by two stone pillars Morax conjured. The pillars bore only the faintest scratches.]

[The mighty winds you so prided yourself on were as feeble as a breeze against Morax's stone walls.]

[With just one exchange, you realized the gulf between you and Morax. You expected him to retaliate, perhaps even kill you. After all, you had always lived in a world where the weak were prey to the strong.]

[But Morax did not strike. He simply said calmly, "You are no match for me. Please leave. It is not my desire, but I cannot allow my people to face any threat."]

["Your people?" A twinge of envy arose in your heart. You didn't flee but instead asked, "What must I do to be like you, to become a god worshipped by humans?"]

---

["I have never demanded their faith," Morax said impassively. "I only protect and assist them. By the time I realized it, they already regarded me as a god. Even I cannot compel humans to believe in me."]

[Your mind cleared as if a veil had been lifted. You nodded toward Morax. "Thank you for your guidance. I am Decarabian, the God of Storms. One day, I too will have a nation and people of my own. As a token of my gratitude, I promise never to trespass upon your lands."]

[You returned to Mondstadt, your homeland. In this vast territory were countless refugees. The name "God of Storms" spread among them through whispers.]

[Confronted by your immense power, they were naturally fearful. But you remembered Morax's teachings. You did not force them to bow to you. Instead, you showed your goodwill through action.]

[Age 842: You dispersed the endless snowstorms with gusts of wind, helping human tribes establish their settlements.]

[Age 875: You aided the humans in defeating the monsters that attacked them. This time, they did not flee in fear but expressed their gratitude—meager though it was, it marked a promising beginning.]

[Age 923: Through years of effort, you gained many followers in Mondstadt. Yet, it was not the time to ascend as a true god. Another powerful force was stirring. You knew that a confrontation with this power was inevitable.]

[Age 936: The humans who revered you prepared a gift. Unlike the simplistic monsters, their offering was not food or treasures but a tower befitting your stature.]

[Standing atop the tower, you gazed down upon the land. Your followers showed you genuine respect—this, you could feel. Their faith bolstered your strength, ever-growing due to their belief (activated talent: Majestic Aura).]

[Age 948: At that time, across Teyvat, gods were emerging in abundance. They stood at the pinnacle of power. Even the weakest god wielded strength not to be underestimated.]

[Gods seemed innately drawn to conflict. Perhaps due to higher forces at play, wars among gods were unceasing. Teyvat was divided into seven regions, with only one god in each area qualifying to ascend as a true deity after triumphing over their rivals.]

[Age 960: Compared to other regions, Mondstadt's conflicts among gods were relatively mild. This was because only two mighty gods resided in the region: you, Decarabian, and another known as Andrius, the "King of the North Wind."]

[Like you, Andrius had won the allegiance of some Mondstadt inhabitants. But a single region could not accommodate two leaders. Your inevitable battle began on an unremarkable day.]

[Unlike your humanoid form, Andrius appeared as an enormous white wolf. For reasons unknown, his gaze toward you burned with hatred. Then it dawned on you: he was the cub whose mother you had slain long ago.]

[It was as if fate had orchestrated it. The wolf pup that once howled in the snow had grown into a formidable god. Your battle was not merely fueled by vengeance. Among gods, there was no reconciliation—only a fight to the death.]

[Age 1000: Andrius challenged you, the "Lord of the Tower." Your battle lasted forty years, not because your powers were evenly matched—his claws and fangs couldn't harm you, and his frost and snow were effortlessly scattered by your tempestuous winds.]

[After each victory, you let him leave. To him, this was an insult from your arrogance. Yet, you saw him as the only god in Mondstadt who stood on equal footing with you. His presence made you feel less alone in the world.]

[However, all wars must end. In your final battle, Andrius's pride shattered. Defeated and despondent, he begged you for an honorable death. Instead, you threw him from your tower.]

[For the King of the North Wind, this was the greatest humiliation. He fled like a broken creature. With his departure, you became the uncontested ruler of Mondstadt.]

[Age 1031: Leading your people, you expanded your territory. Each time the land grew, you extended your tower higher, so you could oversee your realm and all its inhabitants.]

[The dream you once held had finally come true. Following Morax's teachings, you earned the love and respect of your people.]

[Age 1162: Unlike monsters, humans established their own civilization after building cities. Their respect for you did not diminish with their growth. Through the power of legacy, your believers only increased.]

[Age 1232: The expansion of your territory reached its limit. Mondstadt's harsh environment, with its icy and snow-covered lands, was unsuitable for human survival. Worse still, cold winds continually harassed your city.]

[You loved your people deeply and believed they loved you in return. To shield them from the cold, you used your power to create a storm barrier around the city.]

[The barrier kept the cold and suffering at bay, though it gradually drained your strength. Yet, for the sake of your beloved people, you deemed it worth the cost.]

[Age 1280: The wind blades surrounding you grew stronger as your power increased, making it impossible for mortals to approach. To bridge this gap, you selected three individuals strong enough to endure the wind and entrusted them with meeting you every ten years to report on the kingdom's affairs.]

[Over time, these three individuals established three great families, tasked with governing the nation in your stead.]

[Age 1290: During one such meeting, your subjects made a request: "Oh great king, we are grateful for all you have given us. But your winds are too fierce—can you lessen them slightly?"]

[Unable to weaken the winds around you, you constructed three radiant rings around the tower to reduce their strength. You entrusted the activation of these rings to the three families, ensuring your winds would never harm your people.]

[Age 1342: The radiant rings lessened the intensity of your winds, but in doing so, you became a true solitary king, dwelling alone atop your tower.]

[Once every ten years, you spoke with the leaders of the three families. For the rest of the time, you watched over your people from afar.]

[As their faith grew, so did your power. But the stronger your winds became, the further they drove you from the humans you cherished.]

[You consoled yourself, believing that as long as they held you in their hearts, you were not truly alone.]

[Despite your isolation, you remained diligent in governance. With your keen sight, no subject escaped your gaze. You assigned them roles suited to their strengths, ensuring the city ran optimally.]

[Those with strength became laborers, the meticulous became artisans, the brave defended the borders, and the diligent herded livestock. Your choices were flawless, creating a utopia shielded from the icy wastelands outside.]

[Your greatest joy was gazing upon your kingdom from the tower, seeing your people bow to express their love and respect. It gave you a profound sense of accomplishment.]

[Age 1370: The Gunnhildr family appointed a new leader. During a summons, this young individual displayed extraordinary poise. To your surprise, your winds did not affect him.]

[He bore a Vision of Anemo, a mystical artifact that granted him elemental power and resistance to your storms.]

[You wished to keep him by your side to ease your loneliness. But as a family leader, he had pressing duties.]

[For the first time, you made an "excessive" demand: every decade, you required one person attuned to wind to spend ten years with you in the tower.]

[What you thought was a simple request sparked disputes. "Forgive us, great lord of winds," your subjects said, "but your demand is too harsh. For us, losing ten years of freedom is unbearable."]

[Their refusal enraged you. You had provided them safety and prosperity, yet they balked at such a small price.]

[In the end, they relented, selecting a candidate via vote. Watching from your tower, you noted the chosen individual did not seem pleased.]

[Why? you wondered. Did they not love you? Why were they willing to worship you from afar but unwilling to serve you closely?]

[Regardless, you were no longer alone. The chosen one was a young bard. Knowing your people intimately, you provided him with fine wine and exquisite instruments to make him happy.]

[The bard sang, his melodies filled with fantastical tales. Though his songs delighted you, his face remained somber. When you asked why, he replied, "Oh great lord of winds, it is my honor to sing for you. But unlike you, I am no god. These ten years will cost me the best part of my life."]

[His words resonated. You promised him a gift to compensate for his time, and with this, his smile returned. Together, you drank, sang, and talked, and for the first time in ages, you felt less alone.]

----

[Age 1380: For some, ten years is but a fleeting moment, especially when spent in joy. The bard reminded you that the ten-year agreement had come to an end. It was then that you realized the years had passed only for him; his body now bore the wear of age.]

[True to your promise, you offered him a generous gift. From your treasury, you retrieved a bottle of rare divine wine and bade the bard to drink it.]

[After ten years of camaraderie, the bard trusted you deeply. Without hesitation, he drank the wine and was astonished to find his body restored to the youthfulness of a decade prior.]

[You explained that the wine had the power to grant eternal youth, returning him to his younger self. Overcome with gratitude, the bard played one last melody for you before leaving the tower.]

[The bard's extraordinary fortune shocked everyone. What was once thought to be a ten-year imprisonment with the Lord of Tempests turned out to be a path to unparalleled reward.]

[Thus began the second round of selection. Unlike before, this time everyone hoped to be chosen.]

[To ensure fairness, the process was changed from voting to drawing lots. Only one lucky individual would earn the privilege of serving the solitary king in the tower.]

[The second chosen one was a young knight. Unlike the bard, the knight had no interest in wine or comforts. In contrast to the lively bard, the knight was stoic and silent, like a stone. His only wish was for you to hone his skills so he could become a protector of his homeland.]

[You agreed to the knight's request. Though you had never formally studied martial arts, centuries of battle had forged you into an unparalleled warrior.]

[You had to carefully restrain your strength during practice to avoid harming the knight. While he couldn't bring you the joy of music, your sparring sessions became an engaging way to pass the time.]

[Age 1381: The knight couldn't even graze your robes. Against you, he was as powerless as a child.]

[Age 1385: The knight began to perceive your movements, but striking you was still an unattainable goal.]

[Age 1388: The knight progressed rapidly and unknowingly became one of the finest warriors of his era. However, because you were his only opponent, he had no sense of his own strength.]

[Age 1390: At the end of the ten years, the knight issued one final challenge. This time, his assault left no room for retreat, forcing you to take him seriously.]

[At last, his blade grazed the edge of your garment. But he paid a steep price—the protective winds around you instinctively activated, and their violent force left him gravely injured.]

[As with the bard, you granted the knight a fitting reward. You administered a divine medicine that miraculously healed his wounds.]

[You explained that the medicine granted him extraordinary regenerative abilities, ensuring he would remain undefeated in battle.]

[The knight, elated, expressed his gratitude before departing the tower.]

[Everything unfolded as you had hoped: they alleviated your solitude, and you bestowed upon them your blessings. Was this not the ideal relationship between a monarch and their subjects?]

[To you, humans were endlessly fascinating. Both the bard and the knight brought you joy, and you eagerly anticipated what kind of person the third servant would be.]

[The bard had gained eternal youth, and the knight an indestructible body. The prospect of receiving such blessings drove the people of Mondstadt to vie for the chance to serve.]

[This time, the chosen one was a timid young girl.]

[She wasn't a citizen of Mondstadt but a refugee from beyond the storm barrier. To the impoverished wanderers in the snowbound world outside, the Lord of Tempests' realm was a paradise.]

[Occasionally, refugees would make it into Mondstadt. Although they couldn't gain citizenship and were relegated to slavery, even that was preferable to perishing in the frozen wastes.]

[As a slave, the girl wouldn't have been eligible for the lottery. However, she possessed a Vision attuned to the Anemo element, which allowed her to enter the storm barrier.]

[All Vision holders were permitted to participate, and none dared cheat under the gaze of the God of Storms.]

[Thus, the girl was sent to your tower. Watching the dirty little child cowering behind a pillar, you couldn't help but feel exasperated.]

[The bard had brought you songs, the knight had provided combat, but what could this stammering, timid girl offer?]

[You decided to let it be. Ten years would pass quickly enough. After a long silence, you finally spoke: "Go take a bath, little flea."]

[Like a tarnished piece of copper restored by polish, the girl emerged from her bath transformed. To your surprise, she looked oddly familiar.]

[You suddenly recalled the girl named Yuni from your past, when you had once been revered by monsters. Your memory, so vivid, felt more like a curse than a gift. Unlike humans, who could forget pain with time, you could never escape the tragedy of Yuni, even after a millennium.]

[The girl didn't speak Mondstadt's language. As a slave, she only knew the name others had given her: "Amos." In Old Mondstadt, it meant "the unwanted one," reflecting her status.]

[An idea formed in your mind—a way to pass the time. You decided to raise Amos. The process might not be thrilling, but it would at least occupy you for a while.]

[To put her at ease, you assumed a human form once again. You began teaching her the language, how to eat with utensils, and that she couldn't change clothes in your presence.]

[Age 1391: Amos learned quickly. In just a year, she had mastered the Mondstadt language—a feat far beyond what you had achieved in your youth.]

[Often, the vast tower would echo with the sight of a barefoot girl trailing behind you like a duckling, as though afraid you might abandon her.]

[Age 1392: Amos obeyed you in everything but one matter—she refused to wear shoes. She explained that the soft soles reminded her of the icy snow beyond the barrier.]

[You didn't force her to wear shoes, but a spotless girl couldn't have filthy feet. Every day, you used the winds to clean the tower thoroughly, ensuring her feet remained pristine.]

[Age 1393: Amos expressed interest in archery, wishing to become a hunter like her father. You indulged her, providing a bow and teaching her the craft. You even built a hunting range within the tower for her to practice.]

[Amos's talent exceeded your expectations. Her only shortcoming was her lack of strength. While her arrows couldn't pierce a boar's tough hide, they effortlessly struck its vulnerable eyes.]

[Age 1395: You inquired about Amos's past, including her parents. The answer was unsurprising—her mother had died in childbirth, and her father had been killed protecting her from monsters.]

["If you like, you may call me father," you generously offered. "But only within the tower."]

[To your surprise, Amos refused, blushing furiously as she shook her head.]

["Fine, fine, you don't have to," you said, stopping her before she shook her head into mush. "But why not? Don't you want a father?"]

["I don't want to be Decarabian's daughter," Amos replied earnestly. "I want to be your wife!"]

["How dare you be so impudent?" you roared in anger. "How many times have I told you not to call me by name?"]

[Amos had often addressed you directly, showing no reverence for your divine status. This was intolerable, yet you felt powerless to correct her. She was too fragile to withstand punishment and too sensitive to endure scolding.]

[As usual, you warned her not to use your name. But as the words left your mouth, you realized her statement contained a more startling revelation.]

["You want to be my wife?" you asked with a laugh. "Impossible. You're human, and I am a god. Gods and mortals cannot love—that is the rule."]

["Why?" Amos's innocent eyes brimmed with confusion. "Aren't you the one who makes the rules?"]

[Her retort left you momentarily speechless. She was right—you were a god, capable of shaping the rules. Moreover, you had once loved a human yourself.]

[But the tragic fate of Yuni made you wary of loving mortals again. So, you casually replied, "If the day comes when you can shoot an arrow that strikes me, I will marry you."]

[It was a promise without consequence. The gap between gods and mortals could never be bridged. Your protective winds would deflect anything—a longbow's arrow or a catapult's boulder alike.]

---

[But Amos paid no mind. From that day, the tower had a playful huntress roaming its halls. She was always barefoot, appearing unexpectedly to ambush you with her bow.]

[Age 1396: At the dining table, she would suddenly set down her fork, pull out a short bow, and fire an arrow at you. Each morning, you awoke to find shattered arrows scattered around your bed.]

[The most audacious attempt occurred when, while you were using the restroom, she appeared with a loaded crossbow. You had to admit—it was a perfect ambush opportunity. Legends from a distant world told of a mighty lord felled by his own son in such a place.]

[Yet Amos failed. Her powerful crossbow could pierce walls, but it could not penetrate the winds that shielded you.]

["Failed again!" Amos threw down the crossbow in frustration. "You're a god—I'll never hit you. It's so unfair!"]

["Don't be upset," you consoled her gently. "How about we visit the hunting grounds and shoot some ravens? Afterward, we can enjoy a bowl of hot sweet soup."]

["Okay!" The child's mood shifted instantly. She leapt into your arms, exclaiming, "Decarabian is the best!"

["I've told you not to call me by name," you sighed. "And could you leave? This is the God of Storms'… restroom."]

---

[Age 1397: Amos abandoned her attempts to ambush you. You thought perhaps she had forgotten the promise, which was a relief. After all, gods and mortals were never meant to have lasting ties.]

[You had already decided on her parting gift. When she left, you would grant her Mondstadt citizenship and treasures enough to last three lifetimes.]

---

[Age 1398: One day, you entered your bath as usual. Though you, as a god, had no need to cleanse your body, you had grown fond of bathing while caring for Amos. The warmth was comforting.]

[But this time, as you entered the bath, a startled scream rang out, followed by a bar of soap striking you and driving you out.]

[You weren't angry, just puzzled by Amos's reaction. However, that fleeting glimpse made you realize she was no longer the frail little girl who resembled a reed.]

[Fine food and years of archery training had sculpted her body into one of strength and grace. As the God of Storms, you were no stranger to the human form, but Amos's figure stirred something unfamiliar deep within you.]

[You pondered this feeling, lost in thought until late at night, when a soft knock came at your door.]

[Entering Immersive Mode]

This time, Lucas felt different. Unlike his usual roles, which were rarely more powerful than his real self, he now embodied Decarabian, the Lord of the Tower and former ruler of Old Mondstadt.

Glancing in the mirror, he saw a sculpted figure, akin to a Greek statue—a reflection of the Tempest Lord's vanity, expressed in his perfected human form.

"Enter," he said.

At his command, Amos pushed the door open. In the tower, no one but her could knock on the Solitary King's door.

The girl wore only a modest short robe. Unlike her usual lively self, she now resembled a timid deer, her face flushed red.

"About earlier… I'm sorry," Amos said, bowing her head. "I shouldn't have driven the Lord of Tempests out."

Lucas was taken aback. It had been a long time since Amos used a formal title for him.

"It's fine. Gods are forgiving," Lucas replied with a smile. "Besides, human women don't usually reveal themselves before others."

"But the Lord of Tempests… isn't 'others,'" Amos murmured as she rested her head on his lap. "Can I stay with you tonight?"

"I'll grant your request," Lucas said, ruffling her hair. "But if you grind your teeth in your sleep, I'll throw you out."

"I don't mean like before, just sleeping together," Amos said seriously, shaking her head. "I mean, I want to sleep with the Lord of Tempests… like an adult."

As the Solitary King, you naturally understood what Amos meant. Her request was strange, but not incomprehensible.

"That's something only married couples should do," you said, frowning slightly.

"I've thought it through," Amos replied, as if justifying herself. "To love someone doesn't always mean marrying them. I love the Lord of Tempests, I love Decarabian. Do you… love me too?"

"Of course I love you," you answered without hesitation.

It wasn't a lie. You loved Amos as you loved all your people.

"Really?" Amos's face lit up with happiness. She hugged you tightly, whispering, "Tonight, can I call you by name?"

"You may," you replied generously.

That night, Amos repeatedly called your name, as if defying the reverence owed to a god.

The violent winds became gentle breezes, flowing through Amos's body and caressing every part of her being. And for the first time, the Solitary King of the Tower understood another form of love—one that reached the very depths of his existence.

[Acquired talent: Amos' Devotion]

[Effect: Mastery of all bow and crossbow weaponry, with a 20% increase in damage. ]

---

[Entering Text Mode]

[After that night, your relationship with Amos shifted subtly. She seemed softer, more affectionate. Your demeanor, however, remained unchanged.]

[You were not human and did not grasp the societal implications of your shared intimacy. To you, it was simply a pleasant way to pass the time.]

[Thus, Amos's companionship became routine. Her youthful body radiated hope and vitality, eagerly embracing the love of the Solitary King. Watching her curl up like a kitten in your arms, you felt something you had never known before.]

[You didn't dream, but Amos often shared her dreams with you: "I dreamed of waves and sand, of verdant forests and open plains, of boars playing in berry bushes, of towering spires."]

[Humans were fascinating creatures, dreaming of things they had never seen. You longed to explore those dreamscapes with her, but as the Lord of Tempests, you were bound to the tower.]

[Incidentally, you once considered keeping a cat. But all living things instinctively avoided you, and the bard had been severely allergic to them.]

---

[Age 1399: Happy times always pass too quickly. One day, you realized Amos's ten-year term was nearly over. By this time next year, you would have to send her away.]

[For the first time, you felt a pang of "reluctance." You were dismayed to discover you might truly love Amos—not with the impartial love of a god for mortals, but with a selfish love. You wanted her to stay, to always be by your side.]

[At that very moment, a higher power summoned you into a void. In the darkness, a human-like silhouette hovered above, gazing down at you.]

["Who are you?" you demanded, feeling a rare sense of threat. The last time you felt this was before the mighty Morax.]

["The Sustainer of Heavenly Principles," the figure intoned, their voice deep and hollow. "I have summoned you to bestow upon you the authority of a true god. But heed this warning: to love a mortal will bring irreparable disaster. Do not forget this."]

[The warning ended, and you were abruptly returned to reality. At first, you thought it was a dream, but the "Gnosis," shaped like a chess piece in your palm, proved it had been real.]

[The Sustainer's power transcended that of gods and Archons. Though you could rebel, you dared not risk your people's safety—or Amos'.]

---

[Age 1400: Finally, the day of parting arrived. For a month leading up to it, Amos was visibly downcast. When the time came to give her a gift, she spoke first: "Lord Decarabian, may I choose what I want?"]

[Silently, you nodded. She declared her wish: "I want to stay. That's all I ask."]

[You longed to grant her request, but the Sustainer's voice echoed in your mind. Shaking your head, you replied, "Anything but that."]

["Why?" Amos cried. "Don't you love me?"]

---

["I love you, just as I love all my people," your voice, as sharp as the biting wind, proclaimed. "No one can monopolize the love of a god—not even you."]

[You saw Amos' tears. She rarely cried, but now her face was expressionless as she said, "In that case, please give me your most cherished bow."]

[The bow was a true artifact, imbued with divine power and bonded to its wielder. You formally passed it on to Amos and gave it a new name—Amos' Bow.]

["It is yours now," you said. "With this bow, you can pierce any prey in the world."]

["But I only wish to use it to pierce your heart," Amos said sorrowfully. "I want to know… if you even have one."]

[You watched silently as Amos departed. This time, you chose not to summon another to your tower. The intimacy between gods and mortals brought fleeting joy but left lasting pain.]

[When you announced that no more humans would be sent to the tower, discontent rippled through your subjects. After all, previous chosen ones had gained eternal youth, indestructible bodies, and priceless treasures.]

[They accused you of selfishness, believing you no longer wished to share your divine gifts. But your overwhelming power kept them from openly rebelling.]

[What you overlooked, however, was that while eternal youth and unyielding flesh could not be taken, the artifact Amos' Bow stirred envy in many. One day, the eldest son of the Gunnhildr family, emboldened by his status, attempted to seize the bow from Amos.]

[Amos cherished the bow and would never relinquish it willingly. In the ensuing struggle, she loosed an arrow, and the bow's immense power instantly pierced the young man's chest, killing him on the spot.]

[Your laws did not permit execution. The harshest punishment was exile—casting criminals beyond the storm barrier. But exile from the warmth and safety of your realm was tantamount to a death sentence.]

[For committing murder, Amos was exiled. By the time you learned of it, she was already gone, her whereabouts unknown.]

[Enraged, you punished the Gunnhildr family, despite objections from many. Resolute, you stripped the entire family of their status, banishing them from your realm as exiles.]

[Your heavy-handed decree fueled widespread discontent. The people called you a tyrant, composing songs mocking you. Some even declared they were tired of their lives being dictated and sought freedom beyond the storm barrier.]

[But you would not allow such defiance. For centuries, you had ruled this nation alone, ensuring everything functioned with perfect order.]

[To prevent escapes, you fortified the storm barrier. To silence their insults, you summoned fierce winds to bow their heads.]

[You believed wounds must be excised to heal. To eradicate dissent, you imposed iron-fisted policies, sentencing all who defied you to death.]

[The defiant were shredded by your winds, their bodies left for ravens and vultures as a warning. For lesser crimes, punishments were no less severe: poets who sang mocking songs lost their voices to frost, and those who glared at you in defiance had their eyes torn by the wind.]

[At last, your nation returned to its former tranquility. No voices of dissent remained, only bowed heads offering respect and fear.]

[Age 1403: On an otherwise ordinary morning, you were awakened by an unexpected commotion. Outside the tower, countless windblume petals floated in the air. The three rings sealing the tower had been undone!]

[The exiled Gunnhildr family had returned, uniting with the other two great families in rebellion against you.]

[The combined strength of the three families broke the tower's seals. Yet you felt no fear—only sorrow. A tragedy from long ago seemed destined to repeat itself. Their foolishness would bring them harsh punishment.]

[Standing atop your tower as always, you awaited their attack. Part of you was curious how they intended to challenge a god.]

[The rebellion had clearly been carefully planned. Even Andrius, the defeated Wolf King of the North Wind, had joined their cause. You sneered. He was no match for you. But then, you saw others among their ranks—and disbelief gripped you.]

[There they stood: the bard, the knight, and… Amos.]

["Why do you betray me?" you demanded, your voice filled with pain. "Why repay kindness with treachery?"]

[The bard, still as youthful as the day he left, answered sorrowfully: "I curse the gift you gave me. I am forced to watch everyone I love fade away, leaving me in eternal solitude."]

[The knight, now even more imposing than before, declared: "I curse this unyielding body. I can no longer feel the thrill of battle—no one will fight me, for I cannot be defeated."]

[Amos, however, offered only a few words: "I curse the hope you gave me—hope that was never meant to be fulfilled."]

[A small, shapeless wind spirit accompanied them, watching cautiously from the shadows.]

[The battle began. The blessings you once bestowed upon them now turned into weapons against you. The bard's agile movements made him difficult to catch. The knight's indestructible body withstood your tempests. And Amos's arrows now possessed the power to penetrate your winds.]

[Of course, Andrius remained the primary force among your opponents. While his strength was no match for yours, the combined efforts of the others created an unexpected stalemate.]

[It was not because their strength rivaled yours. In truth, their attacks struggled to break through your protective winds. The stalemate arose because you hesitated, afraid to harm Amos.]

[Though her Vision reduced the winds' effects on her, the full force of your protective gales could still cut her down.]

[During a brief pause in the battle, the wind spirit whispered something to Amos. After a moment of silence, she dropped Amos' Bow and charged directly at you.]

[You had refrained from harming her because she kept her distance as an archer. But if she drew near, your ferocious winds would surely tear her apart.]

[Without thinking, you weakened your winds as she approached. Yet even so, the sharp gales tore into her fragile mortal body, leaving her gravely wounded.]

[Cradling the bleeding Amos in your arms, you called her name over and over. Yet her face showed no pain—only a faint smile. "I knew it," she murmured weakly. "Your love for me… is different."]

[She had never truly hated you. She knew these so-called "allies" could not harm you. Her sole purpose in coming here was to prove that your love for her was not the same as your love for the others.]

[Her bloodied arms went limp. Her death was sudden and overwhelming. And in your grief, the protective winds around you vanished.]

[Your enemies believed Amos' sacrifice would give them an opening to strike. They were wrong. What awaited them was the wrath of the Lord of Tempests.]

[The battle was over in an instant—so swift that its details need not be described.]

[The tempest you unleashed from the tower's peak reduced half of the rebel forces to dust in moments.]

[Standing atop the tower, you crushed the remaining rebels underfoot. Your voice thundered across the land: "You call me a tyrant… then I shall grant your wish."]

[You spared your enemies, not out of mercy, but to prolong their suffering.]

[The bard was imprisoned in the tower's deepest dungeon, deprived of sunlight and wine.]

[The knight was chained to the tower's highest spire, where relentless winds cut him and the sun scorched him day and night.]

[As for Andrius, you captured all his offspring and slaughtered them one by one before his eyes. You had given the defeated Wolf King many chances in the past, and he had squandered them all.]

---

[But you knew the true culprit behind Amos' death wasn't her comrades. It was that sly, scheming wind spirit.]

[After the battle, the fragment of wind sought to flee immediately. But how could such a feeble being escape the grasp of the Storm God?]

[You caught it effortlessly, and it spilled everything—the full chain of events leading to the rebellion.]

[Andrius, the bard, the knight, Amos, and even the exiled Gunnhildr family had all been influenced, manipulated by the deceitful whispers of this tiny wind spirit.]

[It had railed against your "tyranny," convincing your people that you hoarded treasures in your vaults and urging them to rise against you in the name of "freedom."]

[The wind spirit's lies had driven the bard and knight—once beneficiaries of your gifts—to blame all their suffering on you.]

[You hadn't anticipated that the chaos stemmed from something as insignificant as a wisp of elemental wind. Even as it lay in your grasp, the spirit brazenly pleaded for mercy, its voice slick and familiar.]

[It was so weak you didn't know how to punish it. A mere squeeze could reduce it to nothing more than a trace of dust on the breeze.]

[Yet as you deliberated, the spirit transformed into a human form.]

["Forgive my ignorance!" its voice rang out, unsettlingly familiar. "Amos' death doesn't matter—I can take her place and serve you. Just spare my life!"]

[Yes, the cunning wind spirit had taken Amos' appearance, hoping to use her visage to save itself.]

[In its twisted logic, it thought you loved only Amos' physical form. Surely, if it looked like her, you might grant it forgiveness.]

[But its ruse only fanned the flames of your anger.]

[From your treasury, you retrieved the Holy Water of Binding and doused the spirit, sealing it in the human shape it had so brazenly adopted.]

["You like being human? Then stay that way forever," you snarled. "Foolish spirit, you will pay dearly for your insolence!"]

[You named it Barbatos, a fitting name for a jester.]

[Amos' true body was enshrined in a crystal coffin and placed in the hunting grounds she had loved. Barbatos, on the other hand, became the target of your wrath. Only her suffering brought you the faintest relief.]

[Her face, identical to Amos', did not evoke pity—instead, it magnified your fury. Compared to her torment, the punishments of the bard and the knight were trivial, akin to a pleasant afternoon tea.]

[Your vendetta extended far beyond the rebels. Their ability to breach the tower stemmed from the betrayal of your people—your beloved subjects.]

[You were sad to discover that inflicting pain was the only way to momentarily forget your grief.]

[At first, Barbatos wept and begged for mercy. But over time, she became numb. Even when her spirit seemed as lifeless as a corpse, you refused to relent.]

[Once, while lashing her with a steel whip, she did something that stunned you—she laughed.]

["Why are you laughing?" you asked, bewildered. "Don't you feel pain?"]

["Pain? Of course, I feel it," Barbatos replied calmly. "But if I'm going to suffer regardless, why shouldn't I laugh? You can imprison my body, but my mind roams free. My spirit dances on open plains."]

[Her words stirred a memory of Amos' dreams—dreams of waves and sand, forests and fields, boars playing among berries, and towering spires.]

[A new idea took root: you would see those places in Amos' stead, visiting the sights she had only glimpsed in dreams.]

[But the Teyvat of that era was a land ravaged by war, with gods battling for supremacy. To reach unknown lands, you had no choice but to join the fray.]

[Though there were no explicit rules, an unspoken agreement among the gods kept them from encroaching on each other's domains. To achieve your goal, you needed to hone your forces.]

[Age 1423: Two decades after the rebellion, your nation had regained its prosperity. No one dared question your authority anymore. You realized that what truly secured stability wasn't respect or love—it was fear.]

[You began expanding Mondstadt's borders, using your tempestuous winds to clear the surrounding eternal ice. No longer the isolated Solitary King, you established governance, recruited skilled advisors, and formed an elite force loyal to you: The Winds of the World.]

[Age 1502: The Winds of the World embodied your ambition—to spread your tempest to every corner of the world. You made no effort to hide your intent.]

[You sought out powerful individuals from across the land to join your cause as leaders within the organization.]

[You took in Havria, the Salt God from Liyue, a gentle and fragile deity who wandered with her followers after being cast out. Seeing echoes of your former self in her, you offered her protection in exchange for eternal servitude. For her own people, Havria did not hesitate to agree to your proposal. She became the Salt of the South Wind, one of your Four Winds.]

[A young knight raised by Andrius, one of the "Lupical" children chosen by wolves, came to you. She challenged you, hoping to win Andrius's freedom.]

[You accepted her challenge, though the result was inevitable—she was no match for the Lord of Tempests.]

[Instead of killing her, you took her into your service and gifted her the claymore Wolf's Gravestone. In time, she became the Wolf of the North Wind, a loyal guardian of Mondstadt.]

[Among the three families that betrayed you, the Gunnhildr family was annihilated, and the Imunlaukr family was exiled to the eternal snows. Only the Lawrence family remained, hoping to atone for their sins.]

[The current head of the Lawrence family, a brilliant and erudite woman, volunteered to serve as your advisor. After rigorous testing, you accepted her, naming her the Wisdom of the West Wind.]

[Age 1534: As your kingdom expanded, you encountered a young and powerful elemental creature. Had it been born a millennium earlier, it might have posed a threat to you.]

[But with only the North Wind and South Wind, you subdued the creature. You named it Dvalin and made it the Dragon of the East Wind.]

[With the Four Winds of the World established, your forces played a pivotal role in your conquests.]

[Age 1645: With the help of the Winds of the World, your influence spread across Mondstadt. Your ever-growing tower reached new heights, as if to grant you a view of every corner of the earth.]

[Surely, by then, Amos' spirit would finally find peace.]

[Age 1871: Under your and the Four Winds' leadership, Mondstadt flourished. You founded numerous city-states to accommodate its booming population.]

[The Four Winds offered valuable advice, including abandoning rigid societal roles and letting citizens choose paths suited to their abilities.]

[Though feared for your ruthlessness, you were not foolish. Useful suggestions were always heeded, even from former foes.]

[Yet there was one you could never forgive: Barbatos. After centuries of torment, you found it increasingly difficult to invent new punishments for the cunning wind spirit.]

[She had even grown to relish the pain, finding physical suffering preferable to the crushing loneliness of her dark prison. For Barbatos, a lover of freedom, her confinement was the harshest punishment of all.]

["Is that all you've got?" she taunted during one of your sessions. "Your punishments are so dull they nearly put me to sleep."]

[You couldn't help but admire the spirit's resilience. For all her weakness, she remained utterly defiant.]

[You sought counsel from your advisors on how to punish her further.]

["My lord," Wisdom of the West Wind bowed and suggested with a sly smile, "from my observations, she cannot resist fine wine. Drinking without her might be the ultimate torment."]

[Skeptical but intrigued, you decided to test the idea. After all, Mondstadt's cellars were overflowing with wine.]

[You selected a thousand of the finest vintages and brought them to Barbatos's prison.]

["Ah, my dearest God of Storms!" Barbatos greeted you with her usual slyness, oblivious to your intent. "How shall you torture me today?"]

---

[You uncorked the bottles of fine wine you had brought, and the rich, intoxicating aroma filled the cell. Barbatos' expression changed immediately.]

[Immersive Mode Activated]

Before Lucas appeared a beautiful young woman, her appearance identical to Amos', though her demeanor and aura were worlds apart.

"Truly exquisite wine," Lucas remarked, swirling the deep red liquid in his glass with an air of indulgence. "I hear you're a connoisseur. What do you think of this?"

Barbatos sniffed greedily, her nose twitching as she murmured, "Mountain grapes of the finest vintage, pressed by a maiden's delicate feet, left to ferment slowly in oak barrels... A masterpiece!"

Even from the aroma alone, she could discern such intricate details. Lucas had to admit—Barbatos was indeed an expert.

Smiling, he downed the glass in one swift motion. "You're right—it's truly delicious."

Saliva trickled from the corner of Barbatos' mouth as she stared longingly. Her usual playfulness was gone, replaced by an almost animalistic desperation. If she had a tail, it would surely have been wagging furiously. "Let me have a sip. No, just a taste—please!"

"No. You'll watch me enjoy it, but you won't get a single drop." Lucas declared. To his surprise, the strategy suggested by the Wisdom of the West Wind was incredibly effective. The flames of vengeance reignited within him as Barbatos' expression grew more anguished.

The precious wine flowed freely as Lucas drank one glass after another, as if it were mere water. Barbatos, unable to do anything but watch, squirmed with visible frustration. Her yearning gaze seemed to pierce through him.

Hic! Lucas let out a hiccup after finishing several hundred bottles. Even a god's tolerance had its limits. A bit unsteady, he approached Barbatos, holding up a glass. "Want some?"

"Yes! Please, let me have it!" Barbatos pleaded, her voice trembling like that of an addict.

"Kneel," Lucas commanded coolly.

Though forcing Barbatos to kneel had never been difficult, she had never willingly done so. Yet this time, she dropped to her knees without hesitation. "Just one sip! I'm begging you!"

Lucas smirked and tipped the glass slightly, letting a single drop of wine fall onto the tip of his shoe.

"Go on, if you want it so badly. Lick it clean," he sneered, raising his foot. "If you're too slow, it'll dry up."

Barbatos had endured countless days in utter darkness, numb to her suffering because she had long since abandoned hope. But the aroma of the wine symbolized something more—freedom, beauty, and joy. It awakened every buried anguish within her.

Lucas had expected some hesitation. But to his astonishment, Barbatos lifted his shoe with trembling hands, bowing her head reverently as if in worship. She licked the drop clean with a devotion that resembled a pilgrimage.

For the first time in centuries, her face, usually masked with a false smile, showed genuine happiness.

Her expression enraged Lucas further. Dropping his smirk, he kicked her away. "You could have been drinking this freely. But no, you just had to cross me."

"I was wrong! I was wrong!" Barbatos cried, showing no anger or defiance, only desperation. Crawling back toward him, she whispered, "Just a little more… Please. That taste—it was heaven itself."

Her face, so eerily similar to Amos', was now flushed and glazed with longing. For the first time, Lucas felt an unfamiliar turbulence in his otherwise placid heart.

Perhaps it was the wine. Or perhaps this cunning wind spirit hadn't entirely given up on the ruse she'd employed from the start.

"Clearly, the humiliation hasn't gone far enough," Lucas muttered, pulling out the his staff. He poured another bottle of wine over its smooth, polished surface, letting the liquid drip down its length.

Pressing the tip to Barbatos's cheek, he sneered. "You like wine, don't you? Drink it."

It was the ultimate degradation. Yet Barbatos, lost in her yearning, lifted the staff without hesitation, carefully licking away every drop of wine.

She was so cautious, so precise, terrified of spilling even a single drop, lest Lucas take it away.

But as she was savoring the fleeting taste, Lucas yanked his staff away. Her face fell instantly, her disappointment almost pitiful.

"Just one more sip," she begged, her tone groveling. "No matter where you spill the wine—even if it's somewhere filthy—I'll drink it all, I swear!"

"I'll let you drink your fill," Lucas said, lifting her chin. His smile wavered slightly. "But not with this face."

....

After a few hours...

Barbatos never got another taste of wine.

Lucas, as usual, subjected her to his ruthless punishments.

Among his many methods, impalement was one of the most frequently employed.

Spears, needles, daggers, red-hot iron spikes, poisoned blades—these tools had pierced Barbatos's body countless times.

But this time, the instrument Lucas used to violate her was different. It didn't cause physical pain but destroyed her in another, more profound way.

.....

After the punishment..

Lucas' drunken haze had largely cleared. Reflecting on the ordeal, he realized that although nominally, this was indeed to punish and torture Barbatos, he had enjoyed the process immensely.

Deep down, he still loved Amos, and his tenderness toward her had always been meticulous. Yet with Barbatos, there were no such reservations. Despite her identical appearance, Lucas could treat her with the utmost cruelty without hesitation.

For the first time in centuries, Barbatos, who had always masked her torment with smile, shed tears.

"You're crying. Finally, you're crying," Lucas murmured, wiping a tear from her cheek and licking it off his finger. "So even your tears are bitter."

Although her recent torment was lighter than before, what truly devastated Barbatos was the psychological torment.

"Wine… just give me some wine…"

Barbatos stared blankly at the unopened bottles, her only perceived solace now lying in the oblivion of alcohol.

"Want some wine? Dream on," Lucas sneered.

With a casual wave, a razor-sharp wind blade shattered the bottles, spilling their fragrant contents across the dungeon floor. Barbatos, like a lifeless marionette, crawled toward the puddle of wine. But the iron collar around her neck yanked her short, leaving her tongue inches away from the liquid.

The spilled wine would rot and reek, or be consumed by rats and insects, all within her sight but forever beyond her reach.

Lucas laughed heartily as he left. It had been centuries since he had felt such a twisted sense of satisfaction.

---