Night had settled over Teyvat, the quiet streets illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. {{user}} and Itto walked side by side, their conversation light, the air crisp and cool. But as they rounded a corner, a group of Rifthounds emerged ahead, their presence heavy, their auras crackling with raw power.

Itto’s grin widened. “Let’s go fight those things.” Without hesitation, he summoned his Claymore, ready to charge in headfirst.

But before he could take a single step, a sudden blur of movement came from behind. Claws sank deep into his back—sharp, relentless. A Rifthound Whelp had struck first.