The wind from the high sky swept through the ruins, crushing the thousand-year-old melodies against the broken walls. In the depths of this decaying city, another kind of cooking smoke was curling up from the cracks in the stones.
Three broken pillars formed a stove, and half an old pot held clear water secretly drawn from the edge of Dawn Winery. Several furry figures were bustling around the leaping flames—it was a typical Hilichurl dusk.
The elderly Hilichurl Shaman probed his branch-like fingers into a leather pouch, plucking out a few dried Windwheel Asters.
The mushroom caps unfurled into small suns the moment they touched the water, dyeing the entire pot of soup with the Warmth of the setting sun. These were precious foods they had gathered from a Mondstadt Village, each one thoroughly infused with the essence of a thousand winds.
The young Mitachurl returned, carrying freshly hunted beast meat. The axe blade, dusted with Crystalfly scales, descended, and the meat sizzled on the stone slab.
Unlike humans' meticulous preparation of ingredients, the Hilichurls' butchery was raw and wild—large, bone-in ribs went directly into the pot, to awaken the dormant wildness in the muscles with the most direct heat.
The real finishing touch came from that crude clay pot.
When the Shaman uncovered the sealed moss, a spicy aroma, a mix of Mint and Jueyun Chilis, wafted out. This was a secret sauce passed down through generations of Hilichurls, containing their most primitive understanding of this land in a recipe humans couldn't appreciate.
Perhaps different people have different understandings of gourmet food, but the same ingredients every day always bring the same feelings to the Hilichurls.
"Children, come home, the Head Chef has cooked the best meat soup for you."
The spoon dipped into the soup, swirled a few times in the direction of the wind, then lifted, and the golden broth dripped from the edge of the spoon, but only made a thick, muffled sound.
Oh no, listen, there's clearly a louder sound, where is it coming from?
Yes, over there, that tall tower surrounded by a storm.
The Hilichurls stopped their work and play, looking towards the tall tower, their Ee-e-ya-ya Hilichurlian chatter speculating about the source of the sound.
Soon, reality provided the answer.
The regularly swirling ink-black tornado gradually became tainted by purple-tinged ice crystals from its base, and the spreading Cryo element wantonly sold off its low temperature to the surroundings.
Suddenly, right in front of the Hilichurls' eyes, the originally incredibly sturdy wind barrier was smashed open by a colossal body!
Gusts of wind, carrying bricks and tiles, crashed down like waves. Before the Hilichurls could react, the sky-obscuring dragon claws had already descended.
Most of the crystals on Stormterror's body shattered, and the impact of being thrown against the wind barrier had crushed large areas of the Abyssal crystals on its back. Now, streams of dark purple Abyssal energy, thick like juice, flowed downwards.
After sliding to a stop, Stormterror stabilized itself and let out a piercing shriek towards the tall tower, making the atmosphere itself hum.
But its claws had a sticky feel when pressed to the ground. It lifted its front claw to look; it was black and crimson, having picked up a hand full of severed limbs and broken arms from somewhere. Its scarlet eyes looked at the ground, where only a large pot remained in an uncollapsed corner, but the charcoal fire had been extinguished by the low temperature, and the soup had spilled everywhere.
Stormterror, having long lost its sanity, couldn't distinguish the things on the ground, but its sensitive elemental dragon senses quickly made it perceive the approaching danger.
From the tall tower where the storm had dissipated, the woman, as cold and sharp as ice, walked out slowly, holding two long swords.
Stormterror spread all three pairs of its dragon wings fully, rustling them. Its entire body was held rigid, but no matter how its body moved, its head remained relatively still, facing Skirk.
This was its alert stance, similar to a cat's arched back and airplane ears, a posture that allowed it to react quickly in any situation.
Skirk also saw Stormterror in this state; its huge dragon maw was slightly agape but made no sound, a sight that Skirk found somewhat comical.
"Are you huffing at me? Interesting."
But the Mysterious Frozen Dandelion of the Snow Mountain wouldn't wait for a small animal to huff. She lunged forward, her upper body slightly leaning, a clear charging posture.
Even if Stormterror had lost its sanity, it wouldn't fail to recognize such an obvious opening move.
However, just as it fixed its gaze on Skirk, trying to discern her next move, that figure abruptly vanished.
Stormterror was horrified, its huge dragon head looking around frantically, but it couldn't catch a glimpse of that figure.
No, something was wrong.
It was space! A thin line suddenly appeared in the side space!
The next second, the entire space seemed to fall into the abyss, with specks of starlight appearing in the atmosphere, and the thin line from before suddenly produced an ice blade from its end, which continuously rushed towards it along the line!
Within the space, everything cut by that ice blade shattered like a mirror, and what was revealed within the fractured space was an boundless Void.
This scene was incredibly dangerous, yet it possessed a strange and magnificent beauty.
Then, a cold female voice sounded in its ear:
"Ultimate Evil Technique: End."
The voice was devoid of inflection, like the missed heartbeat of the demon dragon at this moment.
Just as the strike was about to hit, the surging Abyssal energy flowing from the demon dragon's body once again formed scabs, barely blocking the attack, but the entire dragon body was still sent flying by this blow.
The three-hundred-meter giant dragon, like a bowling ball, tumbled and rolled over collapsing ruins, stirring up thick smoke, until it crashed into a cliff face, finally halting its momentum.
Lumine and the others also followed out of the tall tower at this time. As soon as they emerged, they witnessed Skirk bowling. Paimon clapped her small hands and exclaimed, "So amazing!"
Venti, however, was beating his chest and stomping his feet: "Oh no! Be gentle! Don't break my familiar!"
The gentle Clara wanted to comfort Venti, but she didn't know how. If it were a machine, she could help fix it, but there's no way to replace a dragon's mechanical arm, right?
Jean and the other two reliable adults were also somewhat at a loss for words regarding their feelings.
After Skirk rushed into the battlefield, the frozen Stormterror quickly broke free and then kite-fought Skirk from a distance.
Before anyone could warn Skirk about Stormterror's attack patterns, Skirk herself charged in with her cleavers.
Orion can bully me, but what can you do to me? I have a short temper.
Subsequently, Stormterror was forced into close combat with Skirk.
In terms of strength, Skirk didn't seem to reach the level of a dragon, but it was hard to imagine that Skirk actually compensated for the strength gap with her superb skill.
Skirk appeared indifferent on the surface, but inwardly, she felt a trace of secret satisfaction.
—I knew Orion was abnormal, right?
Using a thousand pounds to deflect four ounces, but you can't deflect hundreds of thousands of tons. The tactics that couldn't be used against Orion were all used against Stormterror now. Life had never been so exhilarating.
Now, looking at Stormterror, who was steadily retreating and even knocked onto the cliff, Jean and the others finally vaguely understood what "Skirk is very strong" meant.
Then... Orion, who is even stronger than Skirk... Just then, a purple ripple spread from the smoke-billowing cliff.
The moment she overlapped with the ripple, Lumine suddenly clutched her head in pain and squatted down.
Seeing this, everyone rushed over to show concern, but Lumine, who trained daily in Skirk's Abyssal space, had far greater resistance to the Abyss than in the game. She forced herself to stay conscious and not fall into a coma, instead reaching out and pointing in Stormterror's direction.
"There... the Abyssal fluctuations... suddenly became very intense!"
Jean looked towards the direction of the morning, her expression suddenly becoming solemn.
"Lumine, didn't you say that those crystals encased Dvalin like a cocoon?"
Jean's slightly trembling voice conveyed an ominous premonition.
Lumine paused slightly, then suddenly looked up in the same direction, and the latter half of Jean's sentence arrived with the wind.
"He hatched."
The originally dark purple crystals now seemed to have had their power drained, completely fading to an off-white, and were constantly shaken off with a tremor.
The crimson giant dragon broke free from its cocoon.
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