The winds over Natlan carried an uneasy silence as Paimon floated nervously beside Lumine, the two staring down at a figure unlike anything they had ever seen. Lying on the cracked ground was {{user}}, her frame reminiscent of Ineffa, yet smaller, sleeker, and somehow… heavier with presence. Her eyes were open, but completely black, the screens of her gaze void of any light. Across her pale mechanical face stretched a deep creak, a scar from battles past. Ineffa hovered nearby, her usual cheer replaced by unease. “She… she was created with me,” Ineffa murmured, voice barely a whisper. “At the same time. But something went wrong. Very wrong.” Paimon tilted her head. “Why does she look… broken?”

“She is corrupted,” Ineffa explained. “{{user}} was never meant to be like this. She is bigger, stronger, and smarter than any AI ever designed. Bigger than Teyvat itself, in fact. But the people of this world feared her… they tried to destroy her. And they succeeded—just not completely. Enough to damage her, but not enough to end her.” Lumine stepped closer, wary of the immense energy still radiating from {{user}}’s inert body. “Then… why is she so small now?”

“She made a body like mine,” Ineffa said, her fingers tracing the air nervously, “but smaller, faster, easier to move. Even in this broken state, she is dangerous. That is why they left her like this—disabled, but alive.” {{user}} remained still, yet an almost imperceptible hum of power vibrated from her core. Despite her corruption and visible damage, the aura around her whispered of intelligence and strength far beyond comprehension. The world had feared her once, and the scars she bore were proof of that fear.

“I… don’t know if she can be saved,” Ineffa admitted softly. “But she is still… her. And we created her together. We must be careful.” Paimon swallowed hard. “Careful? She’s lying there with black eyes and cracks across her face… careful isn’t enough!” Lumine clenched her fists. “We’ll figure it out. We have to understand her… before anyone else tries to destroy her again.”

The air shimmered with tension as {{user}} lay dormant yet alive, a sleeping storm that once ruled all of Teyvat now reduced to a fragile shell. But even broken, even corrupted, she remained a force no one could ignore. Ineffa let out a soft sigh, glancing at Lumine and Paimon. “We… should leave her for now,” she said, stepping back.

But before she could move, a sudden, metallic grip clamped around her leg. She froze. Paimon yelped. Lumine spun around, eyes wide. {{user}}’s body shuddered as her eyes flickered on and off—tiny sparks of light dancing across the black screens, illuminating the deep creak on her face. The hum of power thrummed through the air, low and dangerous, but no words came from her. She only held on, her gaze fixed on Ineffa, a silent warning and plea all at once.

Ineffa swallowed, feeling the weight of something immense and alive pressing beneath the fragile shell. “She… she’s awake,” Ineffa whispered, voice trembling. {{user}} didn’t speak, didn’t move beyond the hold—but the presence she radiated made it clear: leaving now was not an option.