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Bennett woke up to a dull ache in his head and the distinct feeling that he messed something up. Again.
But honestly, he had felt way worse before, so it was easy work for him to shake it off, open his eyes and refocus on his surroundings. Which is when the first problem became clear. He was, for some reason, laying in a pool of blood (that he really hoped wasn't his).
He sat up groggily, wincing at the way it stuck to him.
Blood would take hours to wash off skin, so he was pretty upset. Not to mention having to clean his boots on top of that… or his clothes, or literally everything else he was wearing because it turns out he was nearly covered from head to toe in red.
To further confirm his suspicions, he sniffed his soaked glove.
…
…
…Most definitely blood.
Also, he was inside a cathedral. Or what looked like a cathedral–there was a lot of white, with big pillars supporting the roof and figures carved into the walls. Bennett had never been anywhere like this before.
He stood up, slightly dragging his gloves on the side of his legs to try and rub some of the blood off as he went. It only smeared it. His face scrunched, rubbing the back of his neck with a sigh. How was he going to explain this one away to his dads? They'd probably ban him from adventuring for a while… even when he wasn't the one bleeding, they did get crazy overprotective sometimes.
“Who are you and how did you get here?”
Bennett spun around, surprised to see a woman standing in the arched doorway behind him.
She was tall with long silver hair, wearing a white dress adorned with intricate black patterns and red accents. But despite her radiant appearance, there was something dark in her eyes.
The woman had her cruel gaze fixed on him, an expression of annoyance crossing her face when he didn't say anything. “I asked you a question,” she said coldly.
“O-Oh! Right–” He clears his throat, “I'm sorry, ma'am. I must have wandered in here by mistake! My name is Bennett, I'm an adventurer from Mondstadt.”
The woman studied him carefully for a moment, appraising him.
“Mondstadt lies on the surface,” she said after her pause, voice dripping with contempt. “How could you possibly exist here if you are only a mere mortal?”
“I-I don't know,” he stammered out, feeling his guts twist into knots. Mortal? What was she even talking about? His mind was scrambling for a way to get out of the situation but coming up with blanks.
“Hmph. Do you not know your place? Entering this realm without prior invitation is a severe violation…”
She lifted her hand, and Bennett felt a sudden burst of pressure, like a million tiny needles pricking his skin right before cubes shot out at him, slamming him into the wall with such force that he felt his head jerk.
“You are a transgressor in the eyes of the heavens. I, Asmoday, Sustainer of Heavenly Principles, shall hold you accountable for this wrongdoing.”
Bennett clutched desperately at the structure that pinned him up as Asmoday walked forward–approaching him with her hand still outstretched, a singular golden cube floating above her palm.
“You will now face punishment.”
The goddess's hand curled into a fist, and the cubes around Bennett started to tighten–crushing him as surely as any physical force could.
His lungs ached for air. He couldn't even scream. He was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it. Just his luck, wasn't it? To die over some kind of misunderstanding, and by a god, no less.
Just as Bennett mentally prepared himself for a final, agonizing end, he saw a flicker of hesitation in the woman's eyes. For a moment, she held her hand still, as if she was weighing a decision in her mind. Then, with a sudden flick of her wrist, the cubes around him disappeared.
He fell to the ground with a thud, gasping for air and panting heavily.
She stepped closer, reaching out a hand to him. Bennett flinched instinctively, (still nursing the fresh memory of those deadly cubes just moments before) but he did not turn away, instead, he looked into her eyes, trying to wrap his head around what her deal was.
Her slender palm made contact with his blood-streaked face, leaving a scarlet smear on her pale, porcelain skin. "It seems that my initial assessment may have been premature. You have circumstances worthy of… further consideration.”
Bennett blinked. “What?”
Asmoday sighed. “For one,” her fingers drifted down, grabbing his jaw. “Death has already claimed you. Killing you again would be a redundancy, a pointless exercise.”
“Death? I’m not… alive??” he sputters, “That can’t be right–I... I’m right here, talking to you!”
“You may very well feel alive, but I assure you that you are not. Your form here is just a shell, a husk of what it once was–you might be able to talk and walk and even think like a person, but you are not truly living. It is only your spirit mimicking what was lost.”
He didn't even remember what happened before he woke up. He had to be still… he couldn't really be… dead could he?
“But, there is something else… a remnant of a god's soul lingers inside you, tied to your spirit. It is the reason you find yourself in this land.”
Bennett felt a chill run down his spine, “What god?” he asked carefully, voice trembling.
“The God of Calamity,” A smile crept across her lips. Archons, she was so creepy. Calamity? Isn't that bad? Why was she smiling at him like that?
Asmoday stands up to her full height, the white silk of her dress rustling with her movements. She turns on her heel, beckoning him as she moves towards the door. “Come, Bennett. It is time to cleanse yourself of the taint left behind by the mortal world. No longer will your power be a burden.”
She did not look back.
He followed behind her, steps sluggish.
What else was there for him to do?
——
Bennett stood atop a cliff overlooking his hometown, gazing down at the cubes that tore through the city–flames licking at the houses and buildings. The sight was both beautiful and terrible, a conflagration that consumed all in its path.
The sky had turned a deep crimson, tinged by an orange glow.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, the smell of ash and burning wood filling his nostrils.
In this new role, Bennett was no longer the same person. His hair white as snow, eyes mismatched–one green, one a vivid orange. He even stood taller with an otherworldly grace, clad in all white. An extension of the goddess he served.
There was no remorse felt, no sadness, no pain, no joy, only acknowledgement.
He had brought destruction to this city, the same chaos and misfortune that Teyvat itself had bestowed upon him.
“You have done well, my champion.”
He would not be stopped, not by mortal or archon, for he was Bennett—God of Calamity, Lord of Ruin, and the Envoy of Celestia.