Genshin - The Voracious Vanquisher

House Lawrence is Mondstadt. It's the pride of all true citizens of this fair deluded city. The peasants believe themselves capable of self-governing, of living outside of the benevolent grip of their illuminated betters. Etiquette, traditions, sport, and even military strength, all these faded under the knights' care. Without the anchor of bloodline and wisdom, the monkeys tossed aside what made this country great.

Damn Barbatos!

All clansmen are taught these lessons. They're taught of the glory they used to have, of their involvement in the nation's founding to the grand spectacles they would host. The dream of a strong and powerful nation was instilled in the cradle, taught each and every day. They despised the seven, for it was this system that legitimized Barbatos' tyranny over them.

Freedom… Bah! What freedom is there when demanded of you by a god!? They ruled Mondstadt legitimately. They owned property, tamed Mondstadt's monsters, and even kept a firm hand on the criminal underworld. Their august rule brought order, security, and prosperity to this hovel of a nation. By their own hands, Mondstadt stood amongst the seven nations with dignity and respect. Its armies fought off the abyss with a fervent commitment and strength matched only by those long-lived species that bind the hands of other nations. Mondstadt's trade was booming, its legions were immaculate, and its ruling class maintained a well-oiled structure that truly embodied the supremacy of human rule.

And what does it look like without their guiding hand? A cesspool of ignorance and incompetence. Trade, which used to boast self-sufficient entertainment, metallurgy, textiles, and orchestral brilliance was now limited primarily to the wine industry and even that – from the testimony of their collaborators – was aided by the spawn of other nations. Liyue, Snezhnaya, Fontaine, and even Sumeru, these incompetent knights needed the benevolence of outside experts to barely keep them above water. The military, a body that used to host legions of well-discipled soldiers, was now a frail shell held together by trash incapable of effective leadership. To see their highest officer – a true single point of failure - practically bending over the table to service these useless swine would be pitiable if it weren't so ironically laughable.

Hell, that traitorous bitch joined the ranks of Ordo Favonius, a boon that those rancid rats don't deserve. To be aided by a member of their illustrious bloodline was a gift that they surely didn't deserve. And yet… despite receiving such a gift, they'd treated her like trash.

Did House Lawrence hate her? Did they want her guts spilled on the streets and incinerated to keep the whore from tainting it any further? Yes, absolutely. That said, even with that being the case, the sight of a member of their house spit on like sewer trash was like fire in their veins.

---

*Tap* *Tap* *Tap*

Two regal figures walked through a massive, empty hallway. Their steps echoed through the space, making it easy for anyone within to hear their approach. There were no windows and very little light beyond the dim flickering bulbs installed every 10 meters.

"Are you sure about this my lady? They clearly betrayed us. Why are we still working with this freak?" Fredrick asked frustratedly.

"Oho? Has your spine fallen out of your shriveled husk? You'd let a little treachery stop our advance? For shame. For shame." She sarcastically questioned, shaking her head disappointedly.

"N-no, Lady Morgan. I'm just cautious is all. They're picking us off left and right!"

"And?"

"They're dragging our glorious names through the mud! How can I stand still as our honor is ground to dust by those monkeys!?"

"Like you've been doing. Nothing's changed. It's just the quiet part being said out loud. Our name's long been in tatters. That's why this partnership is so important. With our lord's ascension, the rest will work itself out." She explained. Though, despite her tone staying even and measured, Fredrick could practically feel the woman's boiling wrath seething just beneath the surface.

"Y-yes… you're right. My apologies: I was foolish." He quickly stated, realizing – again – that it may not be a good idea to turn himself into an outlet for that maelstrom. There were certainly enough examples in recent days of idiots who hadn't.

They both arrived at a grand double door. Unlike many of the others, this one was made of thick reinforced steel.

Morgan didn't bother knocking, simply opening it with strength unbecoming of her lithe frame.

"Zandik, we need to talk!"

"What is it now!?" Roared an irritable voice. His voice was deep but immature, like a manchild's.

"We need his majesty!" She yelled directly, shouting over the grinding sound that surely came from another one of his procedures.

"Go away! I'm busy!"

"You promised us results and we're running out of time! We need him now!"

The grinding stopped. They heard a shuffling sound in its place as the resident they were waiting for approached.

He was a man child, a clown in fancy clothing. Zandik – or Il Dottore as he's officially known - had an open three-piece tailcoat in a spectrum of muted white and blue colors. The man's most notable features though were his short, curly blue hair and face mask. Said mask was divided into back and white with the Fatui's insignia on the top right and a cut out segment on the opposite side. It was unbalanced, apt symbolism for the man's demented mental state.

What made this man terrifying wasn't just his inventive mind or demented personality, but the fact that this is one of many segments. Morgan had seen two others; they were worlds different. Apparently, this man thought it was a good idea to create copies of himself with the mental states he had at different points in his life. Something about having a foot in the dimension of time or some nonsense like that. To them though, that meant that even if this vile excuse for a man perished, House Lawrence would have a veritable army of psychopaths on their trail.

It wasn't worth the trouble.

"I believe we had an agreement. I build your little science project, and you give me space to work." The man asked with silly questioning gestures. Despite that 'jovial' mood, neither was stupid enough to believe he was anything but heated. The man's red eyes glowed with passionate frustration. "Do we have a problem?"

"Those blasted knights are arresting our clansmen left and right. Your colleague sold us out."

"Your little rats tell you that?"

"Hmph… no comment." Morgan rebutted, not trusting the crazed man before her with such crucial information.

"Whatever. I care little for such trivialities." Zandik said, shaking his head in disgust. "How's any of this my problem? Just shut your mouth, keep to yourselves, and wait for the birth of my greatest work!!!"

"But-"

"OUT!!!!"

"AND HOW LONG WILL IT TAKE BEFORE THIS PLACE IS FOUND!!!????" She roared in turn, matching his fury.

"… what?" he settled down, quietly asking.

"You're not your most stealthy segment. Hell, I'll even say you're the least mature. While we've done well to clean up all the evidence you've been leaving, not all members of House Lawrence are perfect. With the knights searching as methodically as they are…"

"You believe their hunt will bear fruit." He said, more stating than asking. His tone had a bite to it, an unhidden edge of revulsion at their incompetence.

"It's a slight possibility. Too great of a possibility to leave to chance. So, I ask you again. Just how long must we wait?"

Zandik let out a broad, maddened smile.

"Soon."

---

Illya arrived at a stall at Mondstadt's entrance. Within it sat a doll-like woman who looked forward with a steady expression. Having spent the morning sipping tea and talking to who she hoped could be a new friend, it was now mid-noon. The sun was high I the sky and many were busy on their respective tasks. She did see a squirrely green-haired girl nailing something to the nearby bulletin board, but she didn't pay her any mind.

"This… is the adventurer's guild? That doesn't look suspicious at all…"

"Ad astra abyssosque! Welcome to the Adventurers' Guild." The woman spiritedly stated.

"Are you sure I'm in the right place?"

"That's right. I am Katheryne, the receptionist here at the Adventurers' Guild. It's my job to assign quests to Mondstadt's adventurers and provide intelligence support. We're open for business all year round in all the seven nations. The Guild collates all the complex word-of-mouth information it receives and redistributes it in the form of quests and adventures assigned to adventurers.

"Cyrus is the branch manager for this branch. Please consult him for more administrative functions. I am the point of contact for quest distribution." She explained.

"…OK… and how does this work exactly? Do I just pick an item off the board? Is there any paperwork that I need to file or ranks that I need to climb for harder tasks?"

"The acting grandmaster has submitted you and the traveler for waivers, which were approved weeks ago. You're approved for any mission on the board. Any special requests may be submitted by people you've helped for your consideration; those are the ones that truly require trust and reputation. As for paperwork, we do ask that you write up an after-action report detailing any anomalies that other adventurers need to be concerned about. Your overall performance of the tasks and follow-up paperwork will be noted in your adventurer's profile for consideration of special tasks."

Illya nodded. "Ok, any subjugation missions available? I'd read the board, but I'm already here, so…"

"Why, we just received one an hour ago."

----

Illya's arrows soared like missiles across the night sky. Hilichurls bolted in all directions out of fright. They'd tried approaching at first, furious at her surprise volley during their night hour. Regrettably for them, her aim was impeccable, and her volume was even better. For the regular troll-like things, one arrow through the skull was enough. For the ogre-like titans, she focused on the legs, cutting their mobility.

There were a few trolls carrying staves; they were targeted on sight. Magic wielding trolls never spell well in her experience. Last time she didn't take one seriously, she ended up paralyzed from the waist down after an elaborate voodoo curse went horribly right… for them. She's singled them out as an object of destruction ever since.

All that were left were the large behemoths, Lawachurls – or so they were called. There were two, each with deep piercing wounds on their legs. They swirled with cryo energy, shielding themselves with a special barrier of frost.

She switched out to her buster sword, feeling her heartbeat accelerate for the first time in the last month. It wasn't much; she could tell these wouldn't compare to the dragon. But this was her element. The action, the carnage, the theatre of destruction that evolved from the scuffle… it was a drug that she needed to manage as to not get addicted.

She burst forward, meeting the charging Lawachurls head on. One brought his hands down like a hammer – which she dodged – rupturing the ground with a small explosion of ice shards. The other swung at her dodging form, taking advantage of the maneuver. Her legs widened as she used the sword like a shield, taking the blow at an angle to diffuse the excess force. Mid-parry, she used her dominant right hand to punch the beast in its wounded thigh, knocking it off balance without difficulty.

The other approached from the side, trying to get another hit in, but she sidestepped it. She then bolted toward its passing back, bouncing off of it like a springboard and plunging her airborne blade into the grounded lawchurl's skull. Abyssal lightning exploded from the wound, ending its miserable existence instantly.

The other lawchurl went into a frenzy, literally throwing itself into a dive at her diminutive form. She didn't flinch, plunging her blade into the ground, spawning a crackling spear of super concentrated electricity to quickly throw over her shoulder, spearing the beast mid-air. It exploded outward into chunks, leaving her no need to avoid its incoming corpse. A light barrier was enough.

She smiled, having enjoyed the hunt. Times like this were her favorite. Even if beasts of this level weren't particularly challenging, she could always up the difficulty by employing unique forms of fighting, limiting how much energy she used (like she'd done now), or even tackling unfamiliar opponents.

'Time for the meal' she thought with relish, having had her appetite kick up. Stormterror's corrupted blood was a filling meal, but it'd only lasted her a month. She needed something new. It may only last her a day or two, but a girl's got to eat.

She raised her hand, casting out a wave of black water. Where it went, the soulless corpses disintegrated, breaking into fragments of concentrated elemental energies. Then, she opened her mouth, creating a black hole that sucked the water and the energies it'd captured into it.

"What a strange flavor…" she muttered.

"I didn't realize Hilichurls had flavor." A dull voice noted from the tree line. "Then again, no one's been stupid enough to try."

"Maybe, they just didn't have the taste for it." Illya shot back snarkily.

"And thank Barbabos for that. Doesn't seem like a very palatable meal."

Stepping out from the shadows was a scantily dressed nun. Her manner of dress made her look like the combination of a delinquent, a nun, and a sexy assassin. The woman certainly didn't look like she ever got any sleep… or sunlight for that manner. Her eye bags had bags, and her skin was actually gray. If the Knave looked like a vampire, this one was like a ghoul in a poor attempt at a nun's clothing.

"Illya Leere Siegfried." Illya curtsied. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Rosaria." The woman said plainly. "I just so happened to pass by and saw your fight. Your skills were impressive." The woman's tone betrayed her 'politeness' making it obvious that she was just giving lip service.

"Really? You were just passing by?"

"That's right. I just got back from a conversation with a mousy alchemist."

"And yet, I distinctly remember feeling a particularly familiar flavor of cryo at the edge of my senses for the last several days."

"…." Rosaria stared at her with that dull emptiness for a moment before shrugging. "You know, typically one would keep those kinds of observations to themselves."

"I've played enough politics in my life to last a lifetime. Playing those kinds of games never leads me anywhere good."

"Sounds like a story. Care to share?"

"I happen to have some time tomorrow, my morning tea, if you're interested. Though, I've never been a fan of monologuing." Illya's eyes shifted to a set of knives the nun kept on her. They conveyed an unspoken contract, an exchange; story for story.

Rosaria, for the first time since the conversation started, smiled. "I may take you up on that."

"Humor me though, the name of Mondstadt's god is renowned across the nation. And yet, a sister – I presume – mispronounces his name. No, gets it wrong entirely."

She shrugged uncaringly. "Never said I was a good nun."

"…" Illya looked at the girl with lidded eyes.

'I thought I was over this after Diluc…' she thought, annoyed at having to deal with yet another distrustful weirdo. Unlike Diluc though, who was obviously a noble, this girl clearly came from the opposite side of the spectrum. Her wine-red hair was roughly kept, her demeanor was closer to a slouch than an upright noble, and the girl's elemental energy was flowing rather than the more passive state that a relaxed person would have. This woman was ready for a fight, to defend herself at a moment's notice – more so than normal.

"So, what, you're an inquisitor? I mean… it's pretty common for churches to have shadow armies, but… I guess I underestimated Mondstadt."

Rosaria shook her head. "You weren't wrong. Mondstadt is a bright beast. It lacks that sharp edge. Think of me like, hmm… a stray cat that cares for the herd."

'Ah… that makes sense. She's a dangerous person, probably an orphan who's received dangerous training, who's thankful to the church. If she's to be believed, this isn't sanctioned, but a personal vendetta. Diluc from above, Rosaria from below… yeah… Mondstadt's surviving on practically on unsanctioned goodwill alone. Ezio would be proud.'

"But there is something I believe can help answer both of our questions. There's an investigation I need help with." Rosaria offered.

"And how would that answer our questions?"

"Why, by working together. You can tell a lot about a person by how they work after all and some associates of mine have sung praises on your skills."

Illya rolled her eyes. Why would she care about the nun? It was completely one sided. She didn't care about Rosaria's business. She just wanted to complete the contract she took with the adventurer's guild. But… she understood. Just because the city's nobility trusted her doesn't mean those below agreed. It'd make her life easier if both gave her their blessing.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Can you restrain that whirlpool of yours? I've noticed normal people don't notice it, but there'll be vision wielders where we're going."

Illya took out a large sapphire. "Not for long. I can for as long as this lasts, about 30 minutes or so."

"What's special about that?" She dully asked.

"It's just a battery. I learned to store energy in particularly pure jewels, star sapphires work best for me. Regrettably, I've only managed to find two, so that's a total of an hour. The reason you feel the whirlpool is because that's how I'm 'breathing'. I need a constant flow of energy for my body to live."

"But… didn't you just eat those Hilichurls?"

"I breathe energy, I eat memories in all the forms they take across worlds, and the residue of both is something I use for fighting, alchemy, or other energy-related things."

"That doesn't sound pleasant."

"It's not. I fell into a world without an equivalent for elemental energy. I almost suffocated after an hour. I was moments away from death before I managed to escape."

"Then your breathing-"

"-is unnecessary, yes. It's just a habit I keep to remind me I was truly human." Illya finished Rosaria's pensive query.

Rosaria noticed a hint of reminiscence in those azure eyes, though it wasn't something she could make sense of right now, so she filed it away. Self-dehumanization could be extremely dangerous; she hoped it was more fond memories than anything more.

Illya sighed, acknowledging mentally that perhaps she wouldn't be enjoying her evening meal in peace. She'll be entertaining inane questions while getting dirty to prove herself to someone she truly didn't need to do so with.

Joy.