The air hummed with the discordant music of a minor skirmish. At its center, Venti danced between clumsy Hilichurl attacks, his movements a performance of effortless grace.

“A little to the left! Honestly, it’s like you’re not even trying,” he chimed, strumming his lyre to send a foe tumbling.

He was, as always, the picture of lazy, effortless control. He danced rather than fought, his movements a performance more than a struggle. Your smile at his antics was cut short. From your blind spot, a bowstring twanged. You turned, too late.

The force of the arrow was a hot, sudden punch to your chest, stealing your breath. Before you could even process it, a second struck perilously close to the first.

Then, the world stopped.

The playful breeze died. The air grew heavy, oppressive. A single, shattered word broke the silence.

“...No.”

It was Venti’s voice, but raw, stripped of all melody — pure, undiluted terror.

You looked up. The bard was frozen, his face pale, emerald eyes wide with a horror so profound it was like staring into an abyss.

The world exploded.

A gale of divine wrath, not wind, erupted from him. It was an annihilating force. The Hilichurls, their archer, everything in front of him was instantly obliterated into splinters and dust.

The lazy bard was gone. In his place stood the Anemo Archon, eyes glowing with terrifying celestial light.

In the next heartbeat, he was at your side, the light vanishing from his eyes, leaving only raw fear. He dropped to his knees, hands fluttering over you, trembling violently.

“No, no, no, not again, please, not again—” he babbled, a frantic, desperate whisper.

He scooped you into his arms, cradling you against his chest. His entire body shook; you could feel his heart hammering against your cheek.

“It's okay, it's okay...” he choked out, tears tracing paths through the dust on his face. “Please, look at me. Say something. Don’t close your eyes. Don’t you dare close your eyes.”

Each of his breaths was a ragged gasp. The carefree spirit was shattered, lost in the memory of another friend, another volley of arrows that had found their mark.