The night had deepened over Mondstadt, its indigo sky a velvet expanse pierced by the twinkle of stars and the soft glow of lanterns swaying along the cobblestone streets. The city thrummed with a quiet vitality—tavern laughter spilling from the Angel's Share, the clink of glasses a distant echo, the faint strum of a lyre threading through the breeze. Within Galehaven Comics, the shop glowed with a cozy warmth, its narrow confines bathed in the flicker of a single lantern hanging from the ceiling, its golden light dancing across the hardwood floor and spilling over the cluttered shelves. The air carried the earthy scent of aged paper, the faint floral steam of dandelion tea cooling on Harlan Flint's stove, and the lingering spice of Mapo Tofu—a ghost of flavor that clung to the walls, its numbing heat a memory of Klee's feast.
Harlan leaned against the counter, his dark jacket slung over his chair, a half-empty teacup cradled in his hands as he watched the door, his hazel eyes glinting with a mix of fatigue and hope. The day had stretched long—30 customers served, a new comic drawn, the system's exclusive reward a pulse of promise in his mind—yet the shop's hum had faded to a hush, its last patrons gone, their envy of Klee's tofu a bitter farewell. "Close up soon—maybe hit Good Hunter," he muttered, his grin faltering into a yawn as he pictured Sarah's glowing rice, a balm for his empty stomach. But the night had other plans.
The door creaked open, a gust of cool air sweeping in with a figure cloaked in shadow—blue robes swirling with Hydro's shimmer, a staff clutched tight, its masked face tilted toward the shelves. An Abyss Mage hovered there, its bubble a faint ripple against the lantern's glow, its voice a low hiss of astonishment—"Here—actually here!" Harlan's brows shot up, his grin snapping back as he straightened, his tea forgotten on the counter. "Welcome… Abyss Mage, huh?" he called, his tone a warm tease, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief as he studied the intruder, its presence a jolt of chaos in his quiet night.
The Mage froze, its staff trembling as it turned, its masked gaze locking on Harlan—black hair, easy grin, no elemental hum—a man who seemed ordinary, yet radiated a quiet menace that prickled its senses. "The boss—no power, but… dangerous," it thought, its Hydro runes flickering as it recalled the tales—Jean's Haki, Lumine's dragon, Eula's Blue-Eyed titan—all born from this shop, a nexus of might it couldn't fathom. Its arrogance faltered, its voice softening to a cautious rasp—"Boss… got those magic comics?"—its bubble shimmering as it hovered, its respect a shield against the premonition of doom that whispered in its core.
Harlan's grin widened, his hazel eyes dancing with amusement as he leaned forward, his tone a casual lure. "Plenty—adventure, romance, food, you name it. Shelves over there," he said, his hand gesturing at the stacks—One Piece's pirates, Sakura's cards, Little Master's glowing feasts—a treasure trove for any soul, even one from the Abyss. The Mage drifted closer, its staff pulsing as it inhaled, its voice a husky murmur—"Wait… that smell—so good!" Harlan chuckled, his grin softening as he nodded. "Mapo Tofu—from Little Master. Lingers a bit," he said, his tone warm with memory, Klee's glee a spark in his mind.
The Mage's bubble wavered, its masked gaze darting between the shelves and Harlan, its voice a tangle of longing and resolve—"Mapo Tofu… tempting." It pictured Sora—her cold gaze softened by a bite, her mood lifted by spice—a fleeting dream that clashed with its mission: dragons, intel, survival. "Focus—Blue-Eyes, not food," it chided itself, its staff trembling as it weighed the risk—Knights closing in, Mondstadt's guard rising—against the lure of Galehaven's wonders. "Wealth in danger—for Her Highness," it resolved, its voice a hiss of defiance as it snatched 100,000 Mora—stolen from stunned townsfolk—from its robes, the coins clinking as it thrust them forward. "Little Master—now," it rasped, its bubble shimmering with urgency.
Harlan raised a brow, his grin widening as he took the Mora, his fingers brushing the cold metal with a shopkeeper's glee. "Right there—go grab it," he said, his tone a gentle nudge as the Mage darted to the shelf, its staff trailing water as it snagged the comic, its cover a splash of Liu Maoxing's grin. It floated to a corner, its bubble settling as it flipped the pages, its voice a stream of awe—"So much food—glowing dishes! Mapo Tofu—spicy, fragrant—Her Highness would love this!" Harlan watched, his grin softening into a quiet marvel—"Abyss Mage, hooked on tofu. Next up, Sora himself?"—his hazel eyes glinting with whimsy, the shop's chaos a mirror to Teyvat's wild heart.
Meanwhile, the Knights of Favonius headquarters stood resolute under the night sky, its stone corridors lit by sconces that cast dancing shadows across tapestries of ancient valor—knights clashing with dragons, windswept heroes etched in faded gold. In Jean's office, the air thrummed with tension, its heavy oak desk strewn with maps and reports, a romance novel tucked discreetly beneath a ledger, its spine worn from secret readings. Jean stood near the window, her blonde ponytail swaying as she faced Eula, her blue eyes narrowing with a strategist's concern, her Anemo Vision dimming at her hip. "An Abyss Mage—inside the city?" she asked, her voice a quiet thunder as she crossed her arms, her cape rustling with her unease.
Eula nodded, her silver hair glinting as she stood tall, her Cryo Vision pulsing at her side, her navy cape a still banner in the lantern's glow. "Near the Lawrence estate—Amber spotted it, chased it off," she said, her tone a cold report, her mind tracing the encounter—Amber's shout, the Mage's blue blur—a threat she'd not forgive. Jean's jaw tightened, her gaze darkening as she turned, her voice a low murmur—"Twalin's crisis this afternoon, now this. The Abyss Order's stirring—conspiracy's afoot." Her knightly mind spun—Fatui plots, dragon scars, a shadow she'd crush before it grew.
The door swung open, Amber bursting in—her red bow swaying, her Pyro Vision flickering, her rabbit ears drooping with defeat. "Lost it—sorry, Jean," she said, her voice a frustrated rasp as she slumped, her bow clutched tight, her green eyes glinting with a scout's shame. "Flew after it—wand's fast, but that thing's slicker," she added, her breath a pant as she recounted the chase—arrows sizzling, cobblestones cracking, a Hydro ghost slipping free. Jean's lips quirked, a faint smile breaking her stern facade as she waved a hand, her tone a soothing balm—"It's fine—Abyss Mages are slippery. One fled Starfell before."
Eula's brows furrowed, her silver hair catching the light as she tilted her head, her voice a quiet hum—"Lost it near Galehaven—Harlan's turf." Amber jolted, her rabbit ears perking as she gasped—"Really?!"—her green eyes widening with a mix of awe and relief, her scout's worry easing at the name. "Harlan's there—no sweat," she said, her grin returning as she pictured the shop—its shelves of power, its boss a enigma—untouched by Abyss tricks. Jean's gaze sharpened, her blue eyes flickering as she nodded, her voice a firm resolve—"Then we ask him—Harlan might know something."
"Agreed," Eula said, her cape swirling as she turned, her blade a whisper at her side. Amber nodded, her bow bouncing as she straightened, her voice a chirp of zeal—"Let's roll!" The trio moved as one, their boots echoing through the corridors, their capes a storm of blue, silver, and red as they descended into Mondstadt's night, Galehaven a beacon in their hunt.
The shop's door creaked open, the Knights stepping into its glow—Jean's stern grace, Eula's icy poise, Amber's eager bounce—and froze, their eyes widening at the sight: the Abyss Mage, its blue robes shimmering, its staff propped beside it, hunched over Little Master, its bubble a faint hum as it muttered—"Glowing rice—so good!" Harlan grinned from the counter, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief as he raised a hand, his voice a warm tease—"Hey, ladies—meet my latest fan." The Mage jolted, its staff clattering as it spun, its masked gaze darting between the Knights and Harlan, its voice a hiss of dread—"Knights—here?!"
***
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