The battlefields were scars on Liyue's back, a wasteland of shattered earth and scorched trees. Mangled bodies of both friend and foe littered the ground, their lifeblood soaking into the earth and flooding the fields of Dihua into Marshes. The Archon War was fierce yet, raking high casulties of both the divine and common folk.

As dusk fell, Alatus paused to catch his breath beneath the shade of a tree. His body was covered in wounds, both old and new, but there such commonplace he could dispell the pain as nothing more than a nip. His return to Guili Assembly was expected come nightfall.

It was then that he heard it—a faint, almost imperceptible whimper. Alatus turned sharply, following the sound to a partially collapsed house. Donning his mask, he approached cautiously, his grip tightening on his weapon. "Who's there?"