Chapter 54 My Dearest Ms. Rosalyne, How Are You?

Blood flowed.

Warm blood slid down pale skin, steaming faintly in the cool air, dripping onto the stone floor of the Wolf Temple.

"Hah…"

Seino Fugin coughed lightly, covering his mouth with his hand, but the blood still seeped through his fingers.

Suddenly, darkness overtook his vision.

The colossal eyes of the Hilichurl Chieftain, as large as lanterns, reflected Seino's silhouette. The beast's putrid breath spewed out between its fangs. Its massive arms bulged with veins, thick and knotted like dormant dragons clinging to its limbs. Raising a giant axe high above its head, the creature swung it down toward Seino.

"Cough."

Seino Fugin, clutching his mouth with one hand, stepped back swiftly, narrowly avoiding the crushing blow. His free left hand darted toward the axe's hilt, gently nudging it. Redirecting the Chieftain's strength, Seino flipped the trajectory upward. With the sound of wind slicing through flesh, the beast's arm was severed, shooting skyward.

The Hilichurl Chieftain howled in pain, its bloodshot eyes glaring in fury, but it was already too late. With God Cutter unsheathed, Seino spun around and thrust backward. The blade pierced through its chest. With a push and a twist, he tore open its ribcage, his sword slicing clean through its neck.

[You have defeated Geo-Hilichurl King. Lv. 40]

[Character Level: Lv. 49]

The giant beast clutched its bleeding neck as it collapsed. Seino flicked the blood from his blade, then sheathed it.

"Cough."

Another cough escaped his lips.

He gazed at the Chieftain's lifeless body and murmured to himself.

This must be the last one.

Behind him lay a mountain of monster corpses. The fetid blood pooled into streams, painting the floor with a grotesque red. Most of the creatures had their throats cut and died in anguish, but even in death, the dreadful aura they exuded lingered.

The corruption in the Wolf Temple was far more severe than in the other two temples.

Aside from the endless Abyss Order remnants, there were also numerous Shaman Mages. Clearing this temple had consumed a significant amount of Seino's time.

Thanks to these monsters, however, Seino Fugin's level had risen to Lv. 49.

The Human Principles System had once informed him that Level 50 marked a threshold separating "heroes" from "mortals." As long as Seino broke through this bottleneck, combined with his talents Heart of Archon and Fudoshin, the assistance of God Cutter, and his newfound strength, he would no longer face the same helplessness when confronting Dvalin again.

"Are you done over there?" A calm, steady voice called from the other side.

Diluc.

That was his name. His slightly curled crimson hair was tied into a ponytail behind him. He wore a black-and-gold formal suit.

"To think, in a Knights of Favonius as useless as it is, someone like you would emerge."

It seemed he held little regard for the rest of the Knights.

Diluc was the owner of the tavern Angel's Share, but he had another identity: Mondstadt's famed Darknight Hero—a knight who defended Mondstadt in the shadows.

What is this, Batman?

Darknight Hero? Who came up with such a ridiculous, over-the-top name?

Who invented this?

Seino Fugin chuckled and shook his head, replying to this "Batman," "I'm done here."

Phew.

This really was the end.

He ascended along the wind currents generated by the ruins and landed on a platform. Reaching into his pouch, he retrieved Dvalin's Tear and began purifying it.

The memories of Rostam, his past life, were now Seino Fugin's to inherit.

[Main Quest: Investigate the Four Winds Temples (Completed)]

[Reward: Memory Fragment Unlocked]

Dizziness struck him as fragmented memories surfaced, swirling within his mind. Seino felt as if he were plunged into the depths of an ocean, the currents representing his memories, and the waves his emotions, which crashed violently against him.

He was submerged in a sea of recollections, the suffocating weight pressing against his very soul.

Before him, everything began to fade—whether it was the ancient, solemn temples or the battlefield littered with corpses. All was stripped away from Seino's vision. He found himself thrust back into a different era, where Mondstadt of old enveloped him like a tidal wave.

…

Everything turned to white.

The streets of Mondstadt, five centuries ago, were no different from those of the present day. Windmills spun in the breeze, shops lined the cobblestone roads, and rows of neatly arranged white-brick buildings glistened under the piercing sunlight. Daisy patches bloomed at intervals in the alleys.

The rain had just cleared, and the sky was a transparent azure.

Seino Fugin instinctively brushed the long hair draping over his chest. Golden strands slipped between his fingers like a flowing stream. Blinking, he glanced at a puddle on the ground, where his reflection stared back—

Golden eyes, golden hair, clad in pristine white knightly armor. A sky-blue cape trailed half-dragging behind him, adorned with a perfectly knotted cravat.

[Main Quest: Become the First Darknight Hero]

[Protect Mondstadt Under the Cover of Darkness]

So this was the quest at that time.

…?

Seino blinked, his eyes widening in realization after a brief moment.

Holy hell.

So this absurdly edgy name… was my own doing?

"What are you spacing out for?"

"Rostam."

Seino blinked again.

Golden strands of hair swayed before him, soft and lustrous, dotted with sparkling motes of light. A girl wearing a white dress and a hood turned to face him, tilting her head slightly. Her light cyan eyes brimmed with curiosity.

Her hands were clasped behind her back, her posture slightly tilted. The subtle arch of her neck resembled a proud little swan.

"Weren't we supposed to go to the morning market?"

The market.

"Rosalyne," Seino murmured naturally, as if the name came to him unbidden. "I'm coming."

This girl—Rosalyne-Kruzchka Lohefalter—had appeared in Seino Fugin's memories more than once.

On that rainy night in Mondstadt Square, in those days of sword practice, her clear, melodious singing voice had always reached him.

They were headed to the morning market. Mondstadt's market was bustling, a testament to its spirit of freedom and inclusivity. People from all corners of the world gathered here, bringing with them diverse traditions and cultures that blended seamlessly, forming a unique Mondstadt charm.

Stalls sold candied hawthorn skewers, their glossy round pieces resembling pearls. Popcorn vendors drew attention with the loud bang of kernels exploding and the sight of soft, fragrant popcorn billowing forth. There were glutinous rice balls, sweetcorn fillings, and a myriad of other local delicacies to explore.

Rosalyne wanted the candied hawthorn, but she was shy and not good at interacting with vendors. Her pale fingers lightly tugged at Seino Fugin's sleeve, her doe-like eyes brimming with silent emotion.

She had another thought—she wanted Rostam to buy it for her.

Confused, Seino tilted his head, clueless about her intentions.

"What is it?"

Rosalyne frowned slightly, her frustration mounting as she tugged his sleeve again with a hint of urgency.

Seino, still Rostam in this memory, was a man of integrity and earnestness. He responded with complete sincerity:

"…My lady, do you need to relieve yourself?"

Such impeccable phrasing. Bravo, thought Seino Fugin, marveling at his past self.

'My lady' carried the perfect amount of knightly decorum, while 'relieve yourself' added a note of humanistic concern. Truly, Rostam—who was none other than himself—was the epitome of Mondstadt's ideal man.

Rosalyne, however, didn't find it charming in the least. She pinched his waist sharply in frustration.

In the end, the candied hawthorn was purchased.

The girl lifted her hood slightly as she ate, revealing her delicate profile. Her soft lips parted slightly as she tasted the glossy candy, her tongue brushing against the syrupy surface of the hawthorn. Holding the skewer delicately in both hands, she resembled a small squirrel guarding its treasure.

"Idiot," she said with a soft chuckle, glancing at Rostam, who was still rubbing his sore side.

"Idiot."

She held out the candied hawthorn to him. "Want some?"

"That's filthy," Rostam replied matter-of-factly.

"Why are you always pinching me?"

"Because you're as clueless as a log."

They visited many other places.

They listened to bards recite heroic epics on Mondstadt Bridge, offered prayers at the Cathedral of Favonius, fished by the banks of Cider Lake, and joined the bustling crowds of the Featherball Festival. As twilight painted the horizon in warm hues, fireworks lit up the night sky, their fiery trails cascading over Mondstadt's skyline, mirrored in the girl's gaze as she looked at the boy.

The crowds pressed against them. Their hands brushed together momentarily, then quickly withdrew. Rosalyne's ears turned a faint shade of red.

Standing side by side, they gazed at the dazzling fireworks overhead.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

The cool touch of Rosalyne's hand brushed against Rostam's before pulling back. After a moment's hesitation, she lightly tapped his hand again, her nails grazing his skin like a fleeting tickle. It was a timid, almost playful gesture, like a cautious fox testing its boundaries.

Rostam turned to look at her, and she met his gaze with a mischievous grin, tilting her head.

"What's the matter? Shy over a little teasing? You're such a... 'virgin knight,'" she teased.

Suddenly, Rostam grasped her hand firmly.

Her hand froze, her playful demeanor replaced by startled panic. She struggled to pull free, but she was no match for his knightly strength.

His hand was solid, warm, and unyielding.

"You…" Rosalyne's cheeks flushed. Her light cyan eyes clouded as though a mist had settled over them, her ears tinged pink. Finally, she gave up her struggle and whispered, "Let go."

"I won't tease you anymore. No more games."

Her voice was soft, like the rustling of leaves in a quiet breeze.

"But I wasn't joking," Rostam replied earnestly.

As Seino Fugin had remarked, no matter how many lifetimes passed, he remained an honest man. He looked at Rosalyne, his gaze unwavering, and declared,

"I want to hold your hand."

"You…"

You, you—how could you say something so shameless? You—you're supposed to be a knight! You're so outrageous.

So outrageous.

Rosalyne lowered her head. Her voice was faint, like fireworks fading into the night sky. She pulled her hood further down, obscuring her face. She didn't struggle anymore.

The fireworks bloomed above them.

The summer days were long and lively. The two young hearts had endless time to quarrel over trivial matters, laugh, argue, and reconcile. They seemed to believe such moments would last forever.

Year after year, seasons passed. The once-apprentice knight had grown into the Vice-Captain of the Knights of Favonius, honored with the title of Wolf Pup. Mondstadt had its Four Winds: the East Wind was Dvalin, the Dragon of the East; the West Wind was the Knights of Favonius; the South Wind, the Lion of the South, symbolized the Grandmaster; and the North Wind, the Wolf of the North, was represented by the Vice-Captain.

Having inherited the title of Wolf, Rostam became one of the Four Winds.

The boy who once trained tirelessly in the square had become a pillar of Mondstadt. And of course, he was still the original Darknight Hero, Mondstadt's very own "Batman."

"Have you packed everything?" Rostam asked seriously.

"It's all packed," Rosalyne replied, lifting a large bag. She placed it onto the carriage's cargo rack. "Books too."

She was leaving Mondstadt—her homeland—to study at the Akademiya in Sumeru.

As Vice-Captain, Rostam could not leave Mondstadt.

"Water flask, clothes, provisions…" She counted on her fingers, listing each item carefully. "Everything's ready."

"Then it's time to go," Rostam said.

She paused, then nodded. "Yes, it's time."

The summer wind was gentle, and the day felt still, as though frozen in time.

At the long bridge leading out of Mondstadt, Rosalyne suddenly said, "You have to write to me."

"What?"

"You have to write to me."

Rosalyne's shoulders trembled slightly. She looked up, grabbing Rostam by the collar and pulling him close. Their faces were mere inches apart. Their breaths intertwined, warm and soft, merging before gradually fading.

"You must write to me… Don't forget me. I want to receive your letters. Write to me every month!" She demanded in a tone both commanding and willful.

Caught off guard, Rostam raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I promise I'll write."

"Really?"

"As a knight, I give you my word," Rostam said solemnly. "You should trust a knight's promise, Lady Rosalyne."

"A knight's promise is sacred and inviolable."

Rosalyne stared into his eyes for a long moment before releasing his collar.

"Idiot," she murmured softly.

But then she smiled faintly, as if recalling a distant memory.

Long ago, so many years ago, this clueless fool had taken her joking words to heart. Every day, he waited in the square from morning till night, just to hear her sing a single song.

If he wasn't an idiot, who was?

A big idiot.

She hummed softly to herself.

"Here."

Rostam reached into his pocket and pulled out an hourglass—or rather, a Hydro Timepiece. It was exquisite, the transparent glass scattering the summer sunlight.

"It's for you."

"What's this?" Rosalyne asked.

"A Hydro Timepiece. It will complete one cycle in the time it takes for you to finish your studies at the Akademiya. When the timepiece runs out, I'll come to see you." Rostam smiled as he explained.

Oh, such embarrassing, cheesy words. How could he say something like that with a straight face? Were all knights this shameless?

Rosalyne huffed in irritation. This man had an infuriating habit of saying such things with such sincerity, leaving her flustered.

"…Idiot."

She accepted the timepiece, waved her hand, and climbed into the carriage.

With a loud voice, she declared:

"I don't want to see you again!"

Time passed. Clouds shifted. That was the last thing they said to each other.

Mortals Are Fragile, Like Fireworks

Never mistake a fleeting moment for eternity. Cherish every word spoken to your loved ones—your family, your companions, and your elders. Life is as delicate as dust; every word could be a farewell.

Time crept forward, slowly wearing away at Seino Fugin's resolve.

In the Akademiya of Sumeru, Rosalyne leaned against a pristine desk, counting the leaves outside the window with an air of boredom. Her thoughts were restless.

It had been about three weeks since her last exchange of letters with Rostam. Or, rather, her one-sided scolding of him.

That fool had dared to write that, as Vice-Captain, he was overwhelmed with duties. He claimed the distance between Mondstadt and Sumeru made correspondence impractical and suggested that they stop writing letters for the time being, lest it disrupt her studies. He told her to focus on her education and assured her not to worry about him.

Idiot!

Rosalyne bit her lip in frustration, her nails lightly digging into her palms. Who even cared about writing to him?

Hadn't he sworn by his knightly vows?

Knights, knights, knights—Rosalyne despised that word the most when it came from him.

His letters were filled with accounts of the Knights' daily affairs: "What the Knights were up to today," "How they caught a couple of petty thieves," or "How they stumbled upon an Abyss Order hideout." His youthful enthusiasm practically radiated from the pages.

"Duties," he'd said.

It made her furious. Yet, as much as she hated to admit it, the fury wasn't pure anger. It was tinged with something else—something softer, more vulnerable. The mix of emotions unsettled her. Rosalyne-Kruzchka Lohefalter had never been treated like this before.

Petulantly, she'd sent a reply filled with biting remarks, the kind of letter meant to wound.

"Fine! Don't write, then!"

"Don't come crying to me later!"

"Nobody likes you, anyway!"

They'd had an argument.

Normally, after a fight, Rostam would reach out to reconcile within a day or two. He was patient and kind, always ready to mend things, so their quarrels invariably ended with her victory.

Rosalyne was confident this time would be no different.

But days turned into weeks, and no apology letter came. Rostam's silence was as resolute as his promise had been.

Every day, as Rosalyne passed the posthouse, she'd glance at the mail counter, feigning disinterest, only to quickly avert her gaze. She did this so often that the clerk began to recognize her and would preemptively say, "Nothing today."

Nothing.

Rostam hadn't written back.

Rosalyne felt disoriented.

Her confusion soon turned into anger. With a haughty huff, she told herself she didn't care.

But as much as she tried to forget about the letters, as much as she threw herself into her studies, her mind would wander.

Time moved forward. The routine of academic life—waking in the dormitory, walking through verdant corridors, attending lectures by sages—was monotonous yet fulfilling. Spring stretched into summer; cherry blossoms ripened into fruits, and the days blurred together with the rhythm of writing, studying, and researching.

She convinced herself she no longer cared about Rostam, burying her heart in heavy workloads. At night, however, when the world was quiet and still, she'd take out his letters.

One by one, she'd reread them. Letters, she thought, were a magical thing. On white paper stained with black ink, amidst Rostam's unpoetic words about mundane affairs, she felt as though she'd returned home—back to the land of windmills and pastoral songs.

She'd kept the Hydro Timepiece he'd given her. It hadn't even completed half its cycle.

"Tomorrow," Rosalyne told herself. "I'll write him a letter tomorrow."

The next day.

"I'm sorry," the postmaster said awkwardly, scratching his head. "We can't send letters to Mondstadt anymore."

"Can't send?"

Her first reaction was bewilderment.

"That's right," he replied. "Mondstadt's mail routes have been cut off."

"Why?"

"...Mondstadt seems to have gone silent," the postmaster explained.

Emptiness.

A long, resounding emptiness.

Her mind struggled to process the words. No matter how she reasoned, she couldn't make sense of it. All she was left with was a void.

"...What?"

"Yes," the postmaster continued. "Silent. We just received news recently. Letters haven't been getting through for weeks. It turns out Mondstadt has… disappeared."

A wave of dizziness washed over her.

Unfathomable, inexplicable dizziness.

Rosalyne forced herself to remain calm. "...Why has it gone silent?"

"The details are unclear." The postmaster scratched his head again, his expression troubled. "But the sages say it might be due to a... 'catastrophe.'"

Catastrophe.

Another empty word.

Catastrophe, catastrophe, catastrophe.

The unease in her chest grew stronger and stronger. No amount of deep breathing could quell the turmoil inside her.

Impossible. Rostam was so strong. He was the Vice-Captain of the Knights of Favonius. He couldn't possibly—

It's just a disaster. Nothing more.

She reassured herself, clinging to the thought.

"I'm going back to Mondstadt," she declared. "I'm going back."

No carriage drivers dared to take her to Mondstadt.

Rosalyne purchased a horse, ignoring the warnings of soldiers, and set off on her own.

The distance between Sumeru and Mondstadt was vast.

She rode as fast as she could, the scenery blurring into streaks behind her. Day and night blurred together in her haste.

Yet, the closer she drew to Mondstadt, the slower her pace became. By the end, she was barely moving.

The devastation was overwhelming.

The plains of Mondstadt were marred with deep scars. Vegetation had withered completely, leaving the land barren and desolate. Windrise's landmarks were reduced to ruins; villages lay in shattered remnants. As she approached Whispering Woods, she saw that the once-vast forest had been consumed by flames. Towering trees, centuries old, fell with mournful groans, their fiery demise an eerie lament.

Her horse, exhausted, collapsed and foamed at the mouth. Rosalyne dismounted, continuing forward on foot, her bare feet treading on scorched earth.

Her heart felt as though it, too, was burning.

Scorched earth. Ruins. And monsters.

Creatures of the Abyss roamed freely, their blood-red eyes scouring the land for prey, devouring everything in their path.

Rosalyne walked alone for a long time.

Rostam hadn't written her back.

Rostam had told her not to worry.

Rostam had said he was fine.

And the Knights? Surely the Knights, with all their might, would protect him. Surely Rostam would be safe.

But then, at last, she found him.

In that desolate ravine, amidst the ruins, the scorched sky consumed everything in its embrace.

He knelt atop the wreckage, blood staining his once-pristine white robes. The foul, poisonous blood of the draconic Abyss had seeped into his body, dulling the once radiant light of his golden eyes to a lifeless yellow.

There was no one by his side—no fellow knights, no comrades.

He died alone.

The setting sun bathed the land in crimson hues, a blood-like red blending the twilight and dusk into one. The scarlet earth stretched endlessly, making it impossible to discern where the sky ended and the ground began. Everything felt drenched in blood.

Rostam's blood. The dragon's blood. And...

The tears of blood in the girl's eyes.

Her emotions turned blank—an empty void that stretched on endlessly.

Rosalyne wanted to wipe away the blood on Rostam's body. Yet, as soon as her trembling hands reached out to touch him, his form began to disintegrate.

Like a sandcastle washed away by the tide, his body dissolved into the cold night air.

His golden eyes vanished—the eyes that had looked at her with such warmth and sincerity. The lips that often spoke words that made her blush also faded away. He grew as light as the wind—something no one could ever hope to catch.

Trembling. Trembling.

Her emotions remained blank.

The girl sat down and hugged her knees tightly.

Her heart was still empty.

Night gradually descended. The sun folded into the encroaching darkness as she gazed forward, her expression emotionless.

The moon climbed high into the sky. Pulling her hood over her head, Rosalyne sat still as the world around her faded into silence.

Time stretched endlessly.

Then, she remembered the letters.

She always carried them with her, tucked safely in her bag. Whenever sleepless nights plagued her, she would take them out and read them.

She would do the same tonight.

Rostam was such a fool. He didn't know how to say romantic things. Every single one of his letters began with the same phrase, "My dearest Miss Rosalyne, how are you?" The contents were always plain, so plain they felt dull.

Boring. And yet, warm.

"My dearest Miss Rosalyne, how are you?"

"It's been a month since we parted. The weather in Mondstadt is beautiful today. It poured over Grapejuice Lake yesterday—summer has truly arrived."

"How is the weather where you are? Today, I dealt with a case of unpaid debt and caught two petty thieves. Pretty impressive, right?"

"...Idiot," Rosalyne whispered.

"My dearest Miss Rosalyne, how are you?"

"It's been two months since we parted. Did you receive the dandelions I sent you? Make sure to study hard over there."

One by one, she read through the letters. At certain parts, she would smile faintly. A smile tinged with sorrow, the shimmer of tears still visible.

"My dearest Miss Rosalyne, how are you?"

…

"My dearest Miss Rosalyne, how are you?"

…

"My dearest Miss Rosalyne, how are you?"

The night deepened, the moonlight growing heavier, and the stack of letters grew thinner. Finally, she came to the last two letters.

"My dearest Miss Rosalyne, how are you?"

"It's been thirteen months since we parted."

"How is the weather in Sumeru? It rained heavily over Mondstadt last night. The skies are crystal clear today, and the dandelion fields are as beautiful as ever. I sent you a few with this letter."

"Sumeru is a rainforest—it must be humid. Please take care of yourself. You're fragile, so don't forget to dress warmly."

"Study hard and listen to the sages. Don't worry about me here—I'm doing fine. I just wish I could hear you sing again."

"Are you still keeping the Hydro Timepiece I gave you? When it finishes its cycle, it'll be time for us to meet again."

"My dearest Miss Rosalyne, I wish you all the best."

Rosalyne set the letter down and picked up the very last one. Slowly, she unfolded the paper, reading each word carefully, treasuring them as though they were the last traces of life left in her world.

"My dearest Miss Rosalyne, how are you?"

"It's been fourteen months since we parted."

"Mondstadt has been getting busier lately, and I have some matters to attend to. I may not be able to write to you anymore after this."

"You... promised," Rosalyne whispered, trembling.

Her hands clenched around the letter, and her head drooped as she bit down on her lip. She felt as though her heart was being squeezed, every breath an insurmountable struggle.

She couldn't speak. Her body burned with an intense heat, as though consumed by invisible flames.

Burning.

Burning.

Burning.

"You promised me."

"I'm fine, but there's so much to do. Study hard and take care of yourself. I won't write again so that I don't disrupt your studies."

"You promised me. The vow of a knight, you said."

"You promised," she murmured.

"You need to grow up. You need to be strong. You can't be so willful anymore. Remember the dream you shared with me? You wanted to be a great scholar, didn't you?"

"My dearest Miss Rosalyne, stay in Sumeru for now. DON'T COME BACK."

"My dearest Miss Rosalyne, I wish I could hear you sing just one more time."

"Just one more time."

She finished reading.

The first light of dawn seeped through the horizon.

The girl's tears had run dry.

As the Abyss creatures prowling through the ruins emerged from their hiding spots, snarling with sharp fangs poised to devour everything, the world was set ablaze. A fire so endless it consumed the plains, the ravines, the monsters—and the girl herself.

The inferno devoured everything. The monsters. The memories. And Rosalyne.

That was the end of this memory. The conclusion to this story.

"Level: 70"

Seino Fugin awoke from the depths of memory, his soul inverted and chaotic. The suffocating sensation of death was etched into his very being.

He had died.

He remembered that death. He remembered everything.

The dragon had pierced his body. He had bled out, dying alone in the ravine.

Death. Death's erosion.

He heard countless whispers, his soul battered by relentless corrosion.

Seino felt something growing deep within his bones, something stirring and ready to break free.

He knew what it was. The next body was forming—a sign of things to come.

Seino Fugin's molting had begun.

His current life was nearing its end, spiraling toward its inevitable conclusion.

"Ha... ha... ha..." He laughed, trembling.

"So... so that's how it is."

Clutching his chest, the icy chill continued to ravage his body. He lowered his head and muttered softly:

"This life of mine... how pitiful, how ridiculous it has been."