Work Text:
݁⋆⭒˚.⋆ ݁⋆⭒˚.⋆ Kaveh's POV ݁⋆⭒˚.⋆ ݁⋆⭒˚.⋆
Rain hit my neck like missiles, fast, heavy, and *loud*.
The Wanderer stood in front of us—grin sharp enough to cut glass. His catalyst spun lazily between his fingers, catching the lightning’s gleam.
Behind me, Cyno’s polearm shimmered into shape—Electro curling around his hands like serpents waiting to strike.
Me? I wiped the blood running down my cheek away and sucked my teeth—
This was going to be eventful.
“Admiring me from a distance?” The Wanderer teased, Anemo pushing him higher.
“‘Admiring’ isn’t the adjective I’d use,” Alhaitham said, spitting out rainwater.
The Wanderer tilted his head, smile never fading. “Aw. You flirt like you fight. Messy.”
The wind shifted—and so did he.
A blur of wind pressure, droplets and rage.
An arrow whizzed past my ear—almost taking me with it.
I dare a glance back at Tighnari, his eyes trained on The Wanderer.
I dropped low, and Mehrak followed.
Cyno grabbed the cuff of my neckline and dragged me up, “Go!”
I dig my feet into the mud and boost myself forward, catching up to Alhaitham.
Another arrow shot, and The Wanderer twisted through it. Literally turning in the air like smoke given a smirk.
Water blurred my vision and as I glanced towards Cyno, his head met The Wanderer’s foot.
The Wanderer set his sights towards Alhaitham, and my voice roared louder than the pouring rain, “Move!”
Alhaitham shot his sword up, tripping The Wanderer.
Mehrak came to life as The Wanderer fell to the ground.
My claymore slashed The Wanderer’s sleeve as Cyno shot forward, polearm an extension of himself.
The Wanderer let out a provoking laugh as he shot back up into the sky, Anemo hoisting him over our heads.
“Fight us like a Harbringer!” Alhaitham screamed, voice tearing the forest.
The wet grass squelches Tighnari’s feet as he joins us from the height of a tree.
“You really want that?” The Wanderer teased, the prized item in tow.
I glance at my company.
Alhaitham, defiant.
Tighnari, livid.
Cyno, fierce.
And as I stared at my prized former posession only one thing slipped my mouth—
“Yes!”
Four voices. Each with one goal in mine—
*Get the target.*
The Wanderer landed behind me, foot hitting a puddle with a slap, and before I could pivot, the air exploded.
Dendro blooming with the rain.
Electro charging the tension in the air.
The Wanderer’s catalyst spins between us.
The air feels as if it’s being pushed out of my lungs—I don’t know if it’s adrenaline or The Wanderer’s power.
A chaos of purple sparks and bursts of freshness, deafening booms of wind, and whirlpools of water flew between us.
The rain hazed my vision, tears and rainwater blurring my sight as life engulfed my claymore, weighing down my hands as I shoved it towards The Wanderer.
Wind pressure shoved me back into Alhaitham, and for a second, it was all reflex and chaos.
My lungs burned as I breathed in the scent of it all.
Hands pushed me up, and Alhaitham jumped beside me, his sword snapping to life.
I stumbled behind my friends, gasping for air as Tighnari took the 12 o’clock.
Arrows whizzed in front of us, strings twanging from his touch.
“You guys make *such* a fun disaster,” The Wanderer snarls, voice sing-song and insane, “Perhaps I’ll bury you together!”
I spat blood and rainwater, “Bury this, asshole!”
Mehrak guided my blade to The Wanderer, and a laugh bubbles from within.
The forest groaned under the pressure of everything.
Heat.
Cold.
Dendro.
Electro.
Hydro.
Anemo.
And I *knew* that when the light hit the trees the way it is now—
It was going to get ugly.
And someone was going to go home in a casket.
Alhaitham’s blade turned with his chest. Decisive and quick.
Rainwater made the world flicker with hesitation, and for a second, the world gave us a perfect frame.
Us and him.
He and us.
Alhaitham blade met The Wanderer’s wind pressure in a spar of humidity and wind.
Metal screamed.
I tasted smoke and iron on the roof of my mouth—
And something sweet under it—adrenaline, or maybe the stupid thrill that makes you forget you’re allowed to be afraid.
The one that pushes you to live.
The Wanderer’s vortex tried to swallow us, water shearing my jacket. He looked at us like he was going to grin.
“Let’s finish it!” I yell amid the chaos.
Cyno looks at me, eyes full of rage felt by people with such power as the General Mahamatra.
“Let’s finish him,” he corrects, voice hoarse.
My claymore flew under his guard and bit into the flesh of his ribs.
A gasp. Not dramatic, but more of a sharp inhale.
He didn’t drop. Of course not, The Wanderer *never* does the polite thing.
Instead, he laughs, full of glass shards and jagged edges.
The tension didn’t just *shift*. It moved.
It bit into the chaos as if it could turn a concept into a feasible thing.
He breathed sharply, as if it hurt to exist.
Tighnari gripped his bow; Mehrak floated over my shoulder.
We were ready.
The Wanderer staggered, hand clamped on the cut.
And for one stupid second, he looked small.
Victory tasted like bark. Dry and sharp.
I wanted to dig my heel into it until there was a permanent dent.
I wanted him to finally see what he’s done.
Yet he smiled like it hurt, and blood dripped down my cheek as he lifted a hand and let out a rain of icy shards.
I moved because, well, I moved. No thoughts. Just action.
One dove for Alhaitham’s head. One for my wrist. and one to the boar just living its best life on the brink of our fight. Each shard a razor of compressed air flying in a halo of fear.
As The Wanderer watched the last shard fall, he lifted a shaky hand to wave.
The wave shot a wave of Anemo, shoving us back.
And The Wanderer used the second wind to vanish.
As my vision cleared, I saw a beige pair of flat shoes where we last saw The Wanderer.
A breath caught in my throat.
The prize.
But most of all—
“My limited edition weasel house slippers…”
Alhaitham’s hand rested on my shoulder as he said, breathless and tired, “We’re done.”
“We did it,” Tighnari whispered, voice thick.
I nod, “The prize is won.”
“Say,” Alhaitham frowned, brows crinkling, “You’ve been quiet, Cyno.”
Cyno cleared his throat, his thoughtful expression waved away.
“You could say that was,” he started, a smile creeping up his face.
“Please, Cyno,” Tighnari groaned, rubbing his temple.
“A slipper-y slope,” Cyno continued, a proud look on his face.
And despite my efforts, I snorted.
A laugh bubbled up again, and suddenly, the group was filled with breathless laughter.
Alhaitham cleared his throat, smirk ever-present, “It wasn’t that funny.”
Cyno gasped, “I… That’s impossible!”
Tighnari put a hand on his shoulder, “I found it funny.”
Cyno glowed in pride.
As we walked back to Sumeru City, I felt a weight off my shoulders.
Slippers-clad and being rid of The Wanderer, I felt free.