Chapter Text
He cannot see. He cannot feel.
His senses are filled with nothing but the smell of bloodlust, distant screams of vengeance from the ones he slays.
All he knows in this Pactsworn Pathclearer state is his own numb existence and the cries echoing in his ears and mind. He "feels" his body as it moves, as it cuts down foe after foe, but it is a faraway, muted thing. He “sees” the world as it passes him by, but he cannot grasp it.
The blazing desert sun beats down, never oppressing, on him as it observes the civil war below.
The rolling sands are filled with the blood and screams of the two armies. Among them, a young man, only 22 years old, Sumeru City's general, plows through the opposing side at the speed of lightning, his deity's blessing behind him.
The General Mahamatra–Cyno–is unaffected by the crushing heat. He was created here after all. Born in the desert where he took multiple trips to train during his Akademiya days, as the now general of Lady Nahida's armies, he hurtles through the enemy with hardly a burden in the world.
Of course, his battle prowess cannot all be attributed to his training. Even now his deity whispers–screams–in his mind, calling for death and decay, collecting the souls he reaps on the battlefield. As a vessel for the God of Funerary Rites and Conductor of Souls–who rules over the scorching sands and the Inbetween–he holds a certain resistance to most afflictions.
As Cyno continues to tear through soldiers with the crackle of electricity following him, he hears the unmistakable twack-fwick of arrows cutting through air and he moves to deflect them from his unit–not just his people, the opposing side are in the crossfire too. What are they thinking?–He doesn't manage to stop all of them, and many go down as a result.
Another wave of arrows are released and he braces to block them from his team again. This time, however, they are thwarted by arrows made of dendro energy. The matra beneath him groans and the momentary distraction lands him with an unnoticed arrow piercing his shoulder.
A pained grunt escapes his lips and he calls back his spirit, falling to a knee to check on his subordinate. Cyno's shoulder throbs but he pushes it to the back of his mind. The matra is in a worse state than him, an arrow piercing his gut in a worrying spot. He drags the man and himself behind cover, taking a breather.
"General!" an unfamiliar voice exclaims.
He looks up and sees various medic teams approaching from behind the safezone. The more experienced medics go to treat the fallen, while the less experienced apprentices either assist their masters or brandish their bows and swords to defend them.
One such team draws near to him: a master, with one of his apprentices wielding a bow covered in dendro energy. He must be the one who disarmed the arrows earlier. The master is a man he knows well, the current head of his medical team.
The young man holding the bow suddenly tenses and stills, drawing his aim towards Cyno. The dendro arrow forms almost effortlessly. In the span of barely a second, the apprentice does all this and then releases the arrow. He hits his mark somewhere behind the General, evident by the sound of a grunt and thud.
The team of four arrives and the master immediately gets to work on treating the matra at his feet. The apprentice with the bow stands guard, weapon drawn taut.
With the way the sun gleams and his dendro energy sparkles around him, the newcomer…glows and Cyno is captivated, to say the least. His muscles tense and ripple as he releases arrow after arrow at the enemy and, now that he is closer, Cyno can see the telltale (hah) signs of Valuka Shuna blood. The man possesses fox ears and a tail clothed with black and dark green fur that swishes with his movement. The ears constantly twitch as he fires nonstop at those who approach the little group.
“Two of you head back to camp, he’ll be okay but see that he gets taken care of. Hurry,” Master Kaleb says to his other apprentices. They get up, the matra on a stretcher between them, and rush back to the barricade.
“Master Kaleb,” Cyno greets, drawing the medic’s attention. “What are you doing out here? It’s not safe.”
The man simply treats the General’s shoulder wound with a small smile. “My apprentice Tighnari here saw you go down. He probably would’ve run out to help regardless of if I came with or not.”
Cyno glances at the medic in question. When Tighnari notices his gaze, he gives a polite nod and quickly continues his watch.
Master Kaleb finishes tending to his wound and checking over his other injuries–minor scrapes here, small electro burns there, some bruises mainly around his ribs and hands–and stands to head back. “You’re good to go, just be gentle on that shoulder wound.”
“Thank you,” Cyno says, standing up and stretching. He’s taken a break for long enough. “Be careful, Master Kaleb.”
“You as well, General,” the man bows. He turns to his apprentice. “Come now, Tighnari.”
The fox hybrid finally breaks his concentration, spluttering. “But– Master, the General is still injured!”
Master Kaleb lets out a laugh. “Don’t worry, it’s normal.” By the frown on Apprentice Tighnari’s face, it looks like he is absolutely worrying. “He isn’t our youngest General Mahamatra for no reason. Master Cyno will be fine, won’t you?”
Cyno nods. “The battle is almost over. With that stunt they pulled off with those arrows, most of their forces are incapacitated and the rest are being pushed back.”
Tighnari does not look convinced, but he settles with a nod. “Then, pardon my disrespect, General, but as soon as the battle ends and you are able, please head to the med tent to get your injuries treated.”
The General glances confusedly at Master Kaleb, who just shrugs his shoulders with an amused but fond smirk on his face. “Okay,” Cyno says tentatively. “But there’s really no need to be so concerned.”
“With all due respect, General, it is very important to be concerned about your health and wellbeing,” the apprentice retorts. “You are the General of our nation and the man who is winning this war for us. We cannot afford to lose you.”
He pauses, hesitates, then pushes on. “Please be less reckless and come to the med tent later. General Mahamatra, sir.”
Master Kaleb seems to be holding back laughter. At a look from Cyno, he straightens up, still smiling. “Medics do have higher authority when it comes to these matters, Master Cyno.”
He sighs internally. Medics. “Okay,” he nods. “Please head back for now with Master Kaleb.”
Tighnari nods with a firm expression. “Oh.” He takes out and offers his water gourd. “Please take this, General. I’ve heard you don’t really need it but it’s for my own peace of mind.”
Tighnari’s eyes glitter with earnestness, his lips set in determination. In the face of all that, the General Mahamatra can’t manage to say no. “Thank you,” he mutters.
The apprentice smiles, tail swaying. “You’re welcome.” He leaves with Master Kaleb, both of them bowing before retreating.
Cyno takes a swig of water from the gourd, ties it securely to his belt, and recalls his deity’s blessing. As electro energy rises around him, he breathes deeply and lets the spirit take over.
As Sumeru City takes the win, the scales tipped in their favor, the General Mahamatra crashes into battle once again.
—♡—
When the battle is over, Cyno, naturally, does not go to the med tent.
Instead, as usual, to the chagrin of many of his previous healers, he heads back to his personal quarters and patches himself up with basic first aid. After, he drafts battle plans and works on reports for Alhaitham, their Acting Grand Sage, and takes stock of their army and equipment. He then attends seemingly endless meetings and debriefings.
When all of that is done, the sun is low in the sky and the apprentices have begun lighting the lamps around camp. Cyno returns to his tent, eats the dinner prepared for him on his desk, and starts cleaning his gear. At this time, his people know not to bother him, most of them retiring for the night anyways.
However, it is during this upkeep that a guard calls for him. “General Mahamatra, sir. Apologies for interrupting, but the head medic is here to see you.”
Master Kaleb? “Let him in,” Cyno replies.
The soldier pulls back the tent flap and Master Kaleb steps in. Though, a second set of footsteps follow and at that, Cyno glances towards the entrance–
And pauses.
“Good evening, General Mahamatra,” he barely hears Master Kaleb say because Apprentice Tighnari is–
He’s standing at the entrance, moonshine and torch fire highlighting him and making him glow. He’s absolutely radiant in all his glory–his fuming, glowering glory.
Oh. He’s pissed. Cyno realizes. A faint sense of dread tingles down his spine and makes him straighten up, wide-eyed.
“Yes,” Tighnari starts. He sounds like he’s speaking through his teeth. “Good evening, General Mahamatra Cyno.” His greeting is punctuated with a tight-lipped, livid smile.
Cyno doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone more terrifying. He gulps. “Good evening, Master Kaleb and Apprentice Tighnari. What brings you to my tent at this hour?”
“Excuse my rudeness again, General Cyno, but the hour is the exact reason we are here in the first place,” Tighnari says, barely a tone away from a snap. “I recall a certain Sumerun general agreeing to come and get his wounds treated after the battle was over. And I've discovered that apparently the sun was still high in the sky when the fight ended. However, the sun is now long past the horizon. Know anything about that, General? ”
Cyno glances to Master Kaleb for help, a drop of sweat beads down the side of his face. The master medic is shaking with barely concealed laughter. He doesn’t even look like he’s trying.
“...No?” Cyno tries.
Tighnari’s mental snap is loud in the silence of the tent. Master Kaleb finally steps in. “We have come to tend to your injuries, Sir.”
Cyno warily glances back and forth between the master and the very, very angry apprentice. “I apologize for not coming sooner, I was slightly preoccupied.”
Tighnari scoffs as he takes out his kit. “Yeah, you’ll be saying something different when you’re delirious from fever because your wounds got infected and you refused to get them treated.”
“Tighnari,” Master Kaleb interrupts, halfway between reprimand and amusement.
“Sorry, Master,” Tighnari mumbles. The tips of his ears droop slightly and he looks slightly cowed when he next speaks. “May I tend to your wounds, General?”
At the General’s confused look, the master medic clears his throat. “I have not properly introduced you two. Master Cyno, this is my current Akademiya student, Tighnari. He officially graduated a while ago and so joined us here only recently. He is therefore qualified and authorized to treat your wounds under my supervision. Tighnari, this is the General Mahamatra of Sumeru, Master Cyno.”
Cyno nods in greeting. “I’ve already done first aid on the wounds, but you may see to them.”
Tighnari’s ears perk back up, his eyes widen. “Thank you, Sir.”
After a moment of silence, Cyno asks “How long have you been training under Master Kaleb?”
The apprentice hums, peeling back the bandages under his master’s watchful eye. “He first started teaching me when I was about 11 or 12, so a little over eight years now?”
“That makes you about 20, correct?”
An affirmative nod. “I turn 20 in December.”
“That’s awfully young to graduate and join the battlefield as an apprentice medic.”
The medic huffs out a laugh. “Forgive my intrusion, but aren’t you 22 and the general of an entire nation’s army? ‘Awfully young’ hardly describes your own position.”
Cyno shrugs, wincing as Tighnari pulls away the shoulder bandages. “That’s different. I don’t count.”
“Hm,” Tighnari voices with a frown as he examines the wound. He digs back in his kit and pulls out scissors and disinfectant. “This needs to be restitched.”
“Okay.”
Tighnari cleans the wound and cuts out the stitches, then brings out a needle and thread. He rubs disinfectant again, numbing the wound, before continuing. “You seem to be the exception in many convenient situations, General.”
“Mhm.”
The tent falls into silence after that, at the edge of comfortable and awkward, but quiet nonetheless. Tighnari carries on with stitching up Cyno and hums when he’s done. Master Kaleb steps forward to inspect his work and nods approvingly. The fox hybrid looks encouraged by the approval and when he turns around to grab some bandages, his tail is definitely wagging. Master Kaleb’s pleased and fond smile when Cyno peeks up at him keeps Cyno from saying anything.
“Done!” Tighnari says once he’s secured the bandages. “Please rest your shoulder and try your best not to strain it. Removing torn stitches is a hassle and I’m very sure you don’t want to visit the med tent, so don’t cause trouble.”
Cyno inclines his head. “Thank you, Tighnari.”
“You’re welcome,” Tighnari says as he packs his equipment. “Ah! Don’t think you can get away with not getting treatment again. Your stitch work is horrendous and your wounds are going to one day cause a lot of problems if you don’t take care of them properly now. Please ask a medic to see to you next time. Have a good rest of your evening, Sir.”
“Mm, good evening,” Cyno says as Tighnari leaves. When he’s out of the tent, Cyno turns to the older man. “Master Kaleb, how did you end up teaching Apprentice Tighnari?”
“Oh…” Master Kaleb thinks, rubbing his chin lightly. “Some of the professors at the Akademiya kept mentioning his stellar grades but how he seemed to be struggling a bit in class. After a little observation and questioning, I discovered that he found the subject levels too easy but the lessons difficult. One thing led to another and he ended up under my tutelage. He’s grown a lot since then to a smart young man.
“I do apologize for his strict behavior though. He just cares deeply and abundantly about everything and everyone. Who knows? Maybe his behavior will rub off on you and you’ll finally take your health seriously.”
“Ha ha, Master Kaleb,” Cyno comments sarcastically. “That’s never going to happen.”
The tent entrance opens again and Tighnari peaks through. “I can hear both of you loud and clear, you know?” He pointedly gestures to his ears. Master Kaleb laughs and walks up to him, bringing a hand up to pat Tighnari’s head.
“Thank you both,” Cyno says. “Good night.”
They turn to him and bow. “Good night, Master Cyno,” the head medic greets.
“Make sure you get that wound checked out in a few days!” the apprentice says and disappears from the entrance.
Master Kaleb smiles after him, then turns back to Cyno. “Make sure you listen to him. You won’t like when he’s actually mad at you.”
The general nods sheepishly. That wasn’t him being mad earlier?
He goes back to cleaning his equipment and work, now keeping in mind his injuries all the while.
—♡—
“May I join you, General?”
Cyno turns around, barely suppressing a flinch. Tighnari stands behind him, an umbrella shielding him from the light rain dousing the savannah. He didn’t even hear him approach.
“Yes,” Cyno says warily. “Where did you come from?”
“I saw you leaving back at camp,” Tighnari replies, walking up next to him. A concerned frown appears on his face. “I’ve been following you for a while, General. Did you really not notice me?”
“...No.”
“Well, I guess that’s understandable,” the medic shrugs. “I’m used to walking–or, well, just existing in general–quietly due to my heightened hearing. Maybe I’ve just gotten too good at it.” Cyno stares at him with barely hidden agitation. “…What?”
“I suggest not sneaking up on your allies in the early morning during their patrol. One of them might just end up stabbing you.”
“Oh, fair point I guess,” Tighnari replies. Then, “Here.” He positions the umbrella so that it covers both himself and the general. “Archons, you really find ways to avoid your own wellbeing, don’t you? Don’t you know not to go out walking in the rain?”
“...It’s only drizzling,” he argues weakly. “Why do you have an umbrella anyways? We’re out in the desert and savannah, it never rains.”
“Ah,” the other man breathed. He rubbed his neck sheepishly. “I don’t deal well with the heat. I carry this mostly during the day when the sun gets too overbearing. I wouldn’t be able to get any work done otherwise.”
“That’s understandable,” Cyno nods. Many of his matra have passed out several times before due to dehydration or heat stroke. It was more common back when they first started fighting this war, but they learned to adapt. “Why are you out and awake at this time, though?”
“I could ask you the same, General Cyno, but you’d probably just reply with that crap about ‘not counting’ again,” the younger man chuckles. He lets out a soft, melancholy sigh. “I couldn't sleep, so I got up and went for a walk. I saw you and decided to follow.”
Cyno decides to ignore his first statement. “Couldn’t sleep, huh? Nightmares?”
“Ehhhh,” Tighnari looks away. “With my ears, the sound of the rain hitting the tent was bothersome, so it’s not like I could’ve gone back to sleep.”
“Hm.”
The pair fall into a comfortable silence, not knowing what else to say. They continue to move through the field before Tighnari suddenly stills and grabs Cyno’s wrist tightly.
Cyno starts. “What–”
“Shh!” Tighnari scolds quietly. His ears are twitching and he frantically scans the surrounding area.
Cyno falls quiet. He brandishes his spear and looks for the threat.
An arrow whizzes from the east, coming straight for them and Cyno cuts it down immediately. Several men in Akademiya clothing appear with weapons all aimed at the pair. Tighnari drops his umbrella and summons his bow, taking down three of the enemy in one go. Cyno charges into the fray, electro crackling at his back, and grunts as he fights a few of them at once.
All is going well, the pair are handling the group pretty well until Cyno hears a small gasp from Tighnari. He spares a glance towards the medic and Tighnari is holding a hand up to his neck. At the sight of the dart and what it obviously entails, the general fights harder, positioning himself so that he can aid the younger.
But even though Cyno is fighting harder than he was before, Tighnari is clearly lagging, his movements stuttering and slowing. The matra is about to call on his deity when the fox hybrid is knocked out and goes down. “Tighnari!”
Cyno moves faster–harder–but one of the men chuckles and grabs the passed out Tighnari. He places a knife by his throat.
The general falters and stills. This momentary pause is all the enemy needed. A flurry of darts is shot at him, he dodges all but two. He pulls them out quickly, from his neck and back, but the drugs are already slowing down his limbs. He fights for a little longer, just trying to get to Tighnari.
It's useless.
The men hold him back, knock him down, push him under their weight. He can feel the scratch and pull of rope being tied around his arms, but all he can focus on is the knife still pressed against Tighnari's neck.
Someone kicks him hard in the head and he's out before his chin hits the ground.