The Second Archon War, Carmen Dei 11 (Patreon)

There were times that Nakamura rather enjoyed his new position as a privileged lord. Yes, he might be trampling on decades of Democracy, but when people like Ishihara wouldn’t shut up about some damn fool thing or other, it was nice to pull the “I’m a noble and you’ll do as I say” card.

He chuckled to himself as he sat. There would be no new funding for jets or tanks. What was even the point? They had the ultimate defensive weapon already: A literal goddess who could cut Endbringers in half, and one of the strongest and most well-trained parahuman organizations in the world. What was even the point of having a traditional military when you had the Raiden Shogun?

It wasn’t even really his job, but with Lord Mushu out of the country running things had more or less defaulted to Nakamura, and Ishihara and some old hardliners had tried to sneak in some proposals to make the JSDF more of an offensive force. Since Raiden had shown exactly zero inclination to conquer anything aside from poverty, crime, and Shonen Jump, Nakamura was going to make sure the yen got spent on things more productive than pathetically out of date military equipment.

He was just getting out of his car in front of his mansion when his aide raced down the steps, a look of sheer panic on his face.

“Wait a moment, Sato,” Nakamura said to his driver, feeling a sense of dread that he might have to turn around and go right back to the office.

“Sir! Sir! It’s Her Excellency!” the aide babbled, shoving a phone at Nakamura.

His blood ran cold, and for a delirious moment, he wondered if Ishihara might have been right about needing those tanks and planes after all. “Nakamura. What’s the situation?”

“YOU FUCKING TELL ME!!” Mushu’s voice roared out of the speaker so loudly that Nakamura winced and pulled it away. “Get to a damn TV right the hell now!!”

Racing inside, Nakamura didn’t have to ask for the news to be put on, a TV announcer already stammering through the news in the background. He stopped on the threshold as his eyes boggled at the spectacle. The skies above Berlin had gone black as midnight, despite it being around noon there. Purple lightning flashed across the sky, and from the bird’s eye view that Nakamura presumed was from a helicopter, two streaks were racing across the rooftops of the city at superhuman speeds, one purple, the other green.

“-continues to pursue the unknown Vision Holder across Berlin. Reports indicate this vile fool directly insulted Her Excellency the Narukami Oshogo during her speech to the Bundestag. He has proven to be a cape, and in her divine wisdom, the Almighty Shogun has chosen to bring judgment upon-”

Nakamura put the phone back to his ear. “Is this a secured line?”

“I’m at the fucking embassy in Berlin, so it GODDAMN BETTER BE!” Mushu snarled.

“...right. So, why are you not aiding Her Excellency? What happened?” Nakamura asked, feeling a sense of dread.

“EVERYBODY OUT! YES, THAT MEANS YOU! OUT NOW!” Mushu bellowed.

Nakamura glanced at his aides, then stepped into his office and shut the door while he waited.

At last, Mushu spoke again. “That’s not Raiden.”

“Are…are you certain?” Nakamura asked, turning on the small TV and watching the drama unfold. “It certainly looks like her.”

“Well, it’s not. Get your ass to the Imperial Palace. Go to her quarters. Knock three times, and say, ‘I petition Raiden Ei on a matter of utmost importance.’ Then drag the divine NEET out of her quarters and tell her to DEAL WITH HER IDIOT KID!”

The line went dead, and Nakamura looked at the phone in bafflement. Was it Ami, then? But why…?

“She wouldn’t,” Nakamura muttered, already sprinting back to his waiting car. But oh. She would.

“The Imperial Residence, and get me a police escort! Clear the path!” Nakamura ordered, and his driver peeled out of the driveway like he was drag racing in the mountains.

“Costa-Brown speaking,” Alexandria yawned into the receiver as Wyatt sat up on the bed, groaning and rubbing sleep from his eyes.

There was the sound of panicked breathing on the other side, then, “You know what, never mind, are you decent? Put on some pants!”

“Contessa?” Alexandria said, blinking. She glanced over at Wyatt, who was just as nude as she was. “I think…we should get dressed.”

“Where’s the threat?” Wyatt demanded, rolling out of bed and pulling on his underwear.

“I don’t-”

Alexandria barely had time to pull on a shirt and a pair of panties before a portal opened up in their bathroom and a rumpled-looking Contessa, hat askew, stumbled in, red-faced and breathing hard. Immediately, Alexandria shot into maximum alertness.

“You said I could call anytime and you were always available but I know when people say that they don’t really mean it and I know you guys are sleeping together so you shouldn’t be embarrassed even if Wyatt does have a nice ass but that’s not important right now because I’m having a panic attack because right now Raiden’s fighting someone only I don’t mean the real Raiden I mean the robot you know but anyway they’re in Berlin and she’s fighting him and I can’t figure out who it is except that they’re named Venti and I didn’t see this coming even though I’ve been asking what Raiden will do today and I mean both the robot and the real one and-”

“Contessa!” Alexandria barked, going over and grabbing the panicked Tinker by the shoulders. “What is going on?”

In response, Contessa reached into her pocket and held up a black ball.

“Reply Hazy, Ask Again.”

“I thought you threw that thing away?” Alexandria blurted, then shook her head, trying to clear the sleep from it as Wyatt continued to try to put on his costume.

“You don’t need the costume, Wyatt, sorry! Just, uh-where’s your TV?” Contessa said, but she was already pulling the remote from the nightstand drawer and turning on the one they had in the bedroom.

She flipped through channels until she came to the late-night news, where Alexandria and Wyatt could only watch in astonishment as the Raiden Shogun chased a green blur through the dark skies of Berlin, lightning flashing overhead, and flicking out to attempt to strike whatever Raiden was after, only for it to dodge at the last moment.

“So, uh, that’s a thing,” Wyatt said, frozen with his pants on, and one boot half on, the other on the floor still.

“How long have they been doing that, exactly?” Alexandria asked, shucking off the shirt and pulling her costume out to hastily change into it.

“One hour forty eight minutes and twenty-three seconds! No, twenty five. Now twenty seven. Dammit! It’s-”

“We get the picture,” Wyatt said, resuming the scramble to put on his clothes. “You said this guy is named Venti?”

“Yes! And I don’t know why they’re doing it!” Contessa said, grabbing the brim of her hat and pulling it down over her ears as she paced about in a tizzy. “I can’t get any answers at all! What if they destroy the city?! What if they piss off You-Know-Who?!”

“What does Voldemort have to do with this?” Alexandria asked, her tights only halfway on.

“No, not THAT You-Know-Who! The other one!” Contessa said, taking out another Magic Eight Ball. Then two more. Then three. Then more. And she started juggling them.

“How many of those do you even have?” Wyatt asked, coming over to help Alexandria get her armor on and sounding impressed. Contessa had nine balls going at once. “I thought eight was the world record.”

“Not counting parahumans it is but I can do ten,” Contessa said absently. “Sorry, I find it soothing, you know? At least my power can tell me how to perfectly juggle even if it can’t tell me why Raiden is going ballistic. Except for the part about the limerick.”

“The what?” Wyatt and Alexandria said in unison.

Without pausing in her juggling, Contessa recited,

“O there was once a woman from Inazuma

Who’s mother had quite a bad humah

She had thunderous thighs

But she had to realize,

That reports of my death were a rumah.”

Both Alexandria and Hero had to pause to digest that little tidbit. At last, Alexandria snorted a laugh. “That’s completely awful.”

“Honestly, fair. If someone had told me that horrible bit of poetry, I’d probably decide that murder was the best solution too,” Wyatt said with a chuckle, slapping Alexandria’s back to let her know her armor was in place. And slapping her ass because he was a horny bastard. Not that she minded that part.

“Really?” The Magic Eight Balls thudded to the floor and onto the bed as Contessa just stopped juggling. “I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“It sounds like something a drunk came up with,” Alexandria said with a shake of her head. “Maybe the robot just really hates poetry.”

“I…I don’t think so? Maybe? Is this how the world ends!? A robot uprising over a limerick?!” Contessa gasped, clutching her now rather mangled hat again as her eyes went wide.

“Hey, hey, relax, it’s fine,” Wyatt said, going over and resting a hand on Contessa’s shoulder.

She snapped out of her trance and nodded. “Right, right. I just…what do we DO!? I was in Bangladesh, I wasn’t even close to ready for this!”

“I don’t think any of us were,” Alexandria said, giving a forlorn look to her bed. What time was it? She looked at the clock. 2:48 am. Well, she’d woken up earlier in times of crisis. “Let’s just head to HQ and see if we can figure this out. Doormaker? Los Angeles PHQ, please.”

The bathroom went from looking like the afternoon in Dhaka to Alexandria’s office, and she stepped through, ready to figure out just what the hell was going on.

Arms folded over her chest, Capri glared across the table at Sara, who scowled right back at her. Beside her, Naomi rubbed Capri’s back, but she wasn’t backing down.

“<Now>,” Itul said brightly in English, holding up a goddamn magic wand. “<This is the sharing circle! When in the circle, only the person with the Magic Rod of Speaking may talk! See? I have the wand, so I can speak right now! When I pass the wand to->”

“<I not a fucking child,>” Capri spat, turning her glare on Itul. She hated to admit it, but she wasn’t that fluent in English, and most of what she knew was highly profane.

Sara held out her hand, and Itul beamed at her as he handed her the Talking Stick. “<See? She understands! Here, now speak!>”

“<Are you servants of the Anemo Archon?>” Sara demanded.

“<More like friends,>” Naomi said, then hastily covered her mouth. “Oh, sorry!”

Itul gave her a magnanimous gesture, then passed the Magic Rod of Speaking from Sara to Naomi, who repeated her statement.

Capri took the rod from Naomi and pointed it threateningly at Sara. “<Why was you trying to kill Venti?>”

“<Her Excellency, The Divine->”

“<Ah-ah! You need the talking stick,>” Itul corrected.

Rolling her eyes, Sara leaned forward and grabbed the other end of the stick that Capri was pointing at her. “<Her Excellency, the Divine-”

“Are they allowed to do that?” Naomi whispered, leaning close to Itul.

“Uh, honestly I dunno, this is just something Cookie does during our DnD Sessions and I figured it would work,” the big cape said with a shrug. Dropping his voice to what he probably thought was a whisper, Itul confessed loudly, “I didn’t think it’d actually work.”

“Well, if you hadn’t literally sat on both of them they probably would have torn the entire center apart,” Naomi agreed, thankful that Capri, and apparently, Sara, were too focused on fighting to hear that.

“<You is telling me why you is hunting Venti!>” Capri snapped after Sara had finished the overly long list of honorifics and explained why she’d come to Germany.

“<Yeah babe, why are you after Venti? I thought you came here for the con?>” Itul asked. How did the himbo have the best English out of all four of them? It was frustrating, but it was the only common language they had, as Sara’s German wasn’t very good, if it existed at all.

<”Hold on, are you two actually dating?>” Naomi asked, her eyes widening in astonishment.

Sara blushed and muttered. “<You’re not holding the stick.>”

That didn’t sound like a denial to Naomi, which was probably the most shocking revelation of the day.

“<That is not being important! Because right now, they two is out there fighting all over Berlin, and if they DO get serious, they’ll blow up the entire city like that!>” Capri said, snapping her fingers. She had a very healthy respect for what Venti could do, and anyone who didn’t take The Endslayer seriously was an idiot.

“<I was ordered to seek out the Anemo Archon, and that he may be hostile. I live to serve Lady Raiden, and have followed my orders,>” Sara declared, meeting Capri glare for glare.

“<Were your orders including making a war with NATO? Because if people are deciding Raiden and Venti destroying Berlin is an act of war, that is what will being happen!>” Capri growled.

Sara hesitated. “<I do not think…surely not war…and Venti could no possibly stand against…not Her Excellency!>”

“<I’ve seen Venti decide to stop playing around,>” Naomi said quietly, looking sick. “<He’s an angel, an Archon. If he decides to stand and fight…the entire city won’t survive.>”

“<We is must being stop them,>” Capri agreed, meeting Sara’s concerned eyes. “<You also?>”

“<I…I am loyal to Raiden. But…perhaps we should urge caution,>” Sara admitted. “<We should speak with Ami…>”

“<Where is she being?>” Capri asked, looking around.

“<Good question,>” Cookie agreed, striding in with several capes Capri recognized. She stood up, and her gaze darkened. One of them was a middle-aged man with an eye patch, a winged helmet, and golden-scale armor as a costume. All Father. The other she was less hostile towards but still didn’t like. The other was a bit younger, dressed in a bowler hat, with a gold-tipped cane in his hands, wearing a long-tailed three-piece suit out of the 19th century: Vornheim, leader of the Meisters.

“I wasn’t told there would be untermensch here,” All Father said, his tone registering disgust as he looked at Capri with her obviously Romani features.

“I wasn’t told there would be fucking Nazi trash here myself,” Capri snarled, pulling her sword out of her vision as Naomi did the same.

“Cookie, seriously?! I thought you-” Itul began, but Cookie cut him off. Sara looked confused, but she had her bow out, and had taken a step back from the table to give herself room.

“Manners, ladies and gentlemen,” Vornheim said, tapping his cane on the ground. “We have a crisis to address. I’ve been told you two have a connection to this Venti Luft, and that Ms. Tegan is a Japanese Cape?”

“<What is he saying?>” Sara asked Itul, frowning.

“<Ah! Where are my manners? Herr Vornheim of the Masters, at your service>” Sweeping a bow to Sara, Vornheim doffed his hat and smiled at her.

Capri’s mind raced over what he could do. Vornheim was known as the “Gentleman Cape,” a man who was considered one of the best combat Masters around. He could impose certain “rules” upon a living thing, though they had to be reasonable such as no running, or no talking. None of these “rules” could outright kill a person, so no commands preventing them from breathing or thinking, but he could seriously handicap his opponents. At the same time, he could put rules on himself or his allies that helped make them lighter on their feet, a little stronger, or react faster.

“What do you want with Venti?” Capri demanded, not taking her eyes off of All Father. Of the two, he definitely had more firepower and was a goddamn Nazi to boot. She had thought that Vornheim wasn’t a scumbag, but if he was working with the Gesselscheft…

“<Apologies, but it seems not all of us have German. You understand English? Yes? Very good. Well, there is a minor issue. I attempted to intervene in the little pursuit across the city, but I’m afraid my powers spectacularly failed to work on either this Venti, or Raiden. Well, actually, I only attempted to use my abilities on Venti, at which point I passed out from a blinding headache>.”

“<That’s what you get for trying your powers on a god,>” Capri said with a snort, and to both her and Sara’s surprise, the other woman nodded vehemently, until she caught herself and shook her head.

“<A god? Don’t be preposterous,>” All Father said, a derisive sneer on his lips. <”What would a nig->” He cut off abruptly, choking and going purple as he sputtered incoherently.

“<New rule,>” Vornheim said, turning a look of disgust on All Father. “<If you cannot be polite, do not speak. I invited you along because your faction represents considerable firepower, and I think this is a threat on the level of the Endbringers, hence the rules of the Truce apply. But just because I will work with men like you in time of crisis does not mean I will tolerate incivility.>”

Tightening her grip on her sword, Capri jerked a nod of thanks at Vornheim, who turned back to her.

“<Now. Explain just what you mean by ‘god,’ and do so quickly, please. If something has The Endslayer bothered, I hazard it’s an existential threat. Should we be evacuating?>”

“<Lady Raiden would only attack if the Anemo God were evil,>” Sara interrupted. “<She is Eternity, and Venti must be a threat.>”

“<Only if you’re a Nazi fu->” Capri found herself choking on her words, unable to speak, which earned her a malicious grin from All Father.

“<Terribly sorry, but in the interest of fair play, I’m afraid the rules apply to everyone equally,>” Vornheim said in apologetic tones. “<Please, keep it civil.>”

“<Venti wouldn’t attack, and he isn’t fighting Raiden. He claims to know her, from…I guess heaven?> Naomi said, her blade held at high guard and pointing right for All Father and the Gesseschaft capes who were arrayed behind him. Capri thought she recognized a couple of them from their raid. “<I’m not sure what they’re doing, but they’re not really fighting. If they were…you saw what happened a few nights ago? I think they’re capable of leveling all of the city. The only thing stopping Venti from making a second Desolation is the fact that he wants to help the German people, not harm them.>”

“<Lies! He destroyed our facility and killed a woman of good Aryan stock!>” All Father shouted, and his allies nodded their agreement.

“<I think the fact that you’re still breathing, All Father, is a good sign that perhaps this supposed god is a little more benevolent than the one whose name you claimed,>” Vornheim said dryly. “<Still. We need to bring a stop to this. Would Venti listen to you? Would Raiden listen to you, Miss Tegan?>”

“<I…can try?>” Sara admitted. “<You’d have better success from Lord Mushu or the Inazuma no Himi.>”

“<She means Princess Ami,>” Cookie supplied.

“<Ah, I see. We’re trying on that end, but the Japanese embassy is stalling, and frankly while Germany does have some strong capes, we don’t have an Alexandria or Eidolon, and this Gentleman here is the closest I have to a Legend,>” Vornheim said, making a face to show what he thought of that.

“<I am nothing like that deviant homosexual->” More choking sounds from All Father, and Vornheim rounded on him.

“<Sir. I say this with all due respect, but shut. Your. Mouth. I do not ally with you because I share your deplorable political beliefs. I do it because you are a better alternative to this city becoming a second Cologne!>”

Glaring at the Gentleman Cape, All Father opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He turned on his heel and stalked out, and the Gesellschaft capes went with him.

Vornheim glared after them, and muttered, “Good riddance to bad rubbish.”

Capri jerked a nod. “Didn’t think you were low enough to work with Nazis.”

“Ordinarily, no. But desperate times…” Vornheim passed a hand over his face, looking utterly exhausted. “My abilities may as well be spitting in the wind for all the good they’d do against Raiden and this Venti. Well. We need a plan.” He switched back to English. “<I take it you’re all Parahumans here, capes?>”

<”I’m retired, but yes,>” Cookie said, shifting from foot to foot.

“<No. We are Vision Holders, and I am a Sentai. Not one of your tainted Parahumans,>” Sara said firmly. “<I am a follower of the God of Eternity. If you oppose the Almighty Narukami Oshogo, I am your enemy.>”

“<You really think they’re gods, don’t you?>” Vornheim asked, looking slightly taken aback.

“<An Angel of the Lord. For I have no other gods but the Lord,>” Naomi said, but then added, “<But yes.>”

“<That…complicates things…>” Vornheim drew up a chair, sitting and leaning forward on his cane. “<But, how can we safeguard Berlin?>”

Capri and Sara spoke at the same time: “<Pray.>”

Panting for breath, Nakamura jogged through the Imperial Palace until he came to Raiden’s private quarters, which were located on the upper level, and in an out of the way corner. He opened the door, trying to catch his breath and looking around. Nothing. Just Raiden’s sitting room, no sign of life.

“My Lady? Are you here?” Nakamura called, his voice echoing slightly, as it did when one shouted into a room where no one had been in some time. Remembering what Mushu had told him, he shut the door. Composing himself, he knocked three times, cleared his throat and said, “I petition Raiden Ei on a matter of utmost importance.”

In response, there was a crackle of energy, and the Electro sigil on the door glowed. A moment later, the door swung open.

“Enter, Lord Nakamura,” Raiden’s booming voice declared, as swirling mists began to leak from the darkness beyond.

Swallowing, Nakamura stepped forward, looking about him. Above him stood an archway, shrouded in fog, and above him, lighting flickered silently in a stormy sky. In the fog, innumerable blades shone dully, stuck point first into the stone of the ground. A faint glow emanated from the ground, the purple light giving the swords an ominous cast.

At the center of the plane stood a great forge, from which great arcs of purple lightning pulsed, and upon which bolts of Lightning constantly worked. A great anvil stood to the side, arcane runes glowing upon its surface. Upon the anvil lay a great glowing blade, and the aura of the being working the forge caused Nakamura to drop to his knees in awe.

The Raiden Shogun, the Narukami Oshogo, Elecro Archon, God of Eternity, was plying the ancient Raiden Gokuden, and she was not veiling her form. Great arms formed of pure electro power hovered at her side, and two hands bore her up so that she hovered in the air. She was dressed in workman's clothing that was scorched and stained, but upon her, it looked finer than any imperial raiment, so awesome was her countenance. When her gaze fell upon Nakamura, the breath was driven from his body, and he fell upon his face in obeisance.

“For what purpose have you disturbed my work?” Raiden demanded, her voice echoing with thunder and power. Nakamura did not so much hear her words, as perceive their intent as it was etched upon his very soul.

He had thought he would find his Divine NEET reading manga and eating takeout. Instead, he found a god unveiled, her Power fully manifested, her Glory on display, her Aspect fully embodied. He knew what he saw.

The Raiden Shogun was preparing for a War. Perhaps the last War. The swords around him were a Divine Armory, weapons capable of slaying Endbringers, gods, and demons. Beside them, a tank was a toy, and a jet fighter, a buzzing fly. There was Power here, Power beyond mortal ken. Nakamura knew fear, and he could not speak for the awe and dread that filled his soul.

“Ah. My apologies. You see now why I must seal myself off here.”

It was as though pressure all over Nakamura faded, though it had not been against his skin, but his very being. He was able to breathe freely, and looked up from his kowtow, though he did not rise. Raiden was slowly descending down from the anvil, walking upon steps she made in the air, her manifested arms withdrawn, her power veiled.

“Your Excellency, in Germany, your daughter-”

In a flash, Raiden was before him, lifting Nakamura up, horror on her face. “Ami, she is in danger?”

“I…I don’t know, but, in Berlin, she does battle with the Anemo Archon.”

Confusion flashed over Raiden’s face. “But why would Barbatos…he is capable of great Wrath, I felt it…but not against…”

“Did you not order the Shumatsubaan to hunt him down and slay him? Is he not a great threat?” Nakamura asked, confused. He’d had to coordinate with Kenichi on getting his agents in place across the globe, using various diplomatic covers and other means. “If Ami is impersonating you, then she-”

“Ah, no, that is Tsukuyomi, of whom’s existence you did not know. Know this though. I did not order an attack on Barbatos. That is folly. Why would you think this? I told the Shuumatsubaan to seek out The God of Freedom that I might speak with him,” Raiden said, and thunder rumbled overhead as her expression darkened. “It seems someone moves against me. Nevertheless, I thank you. Depart in haste, Nakamura. You have served me well, but I must now go to see to my wayward creation.”

Scrambling to his feet, Nakamura bowed as he backed towards the door, feeling confused, elated, and reverent. No sooner did he walk back across the threshold, than the door slammed shut.

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out with a trembling hand. Closing his eyes and muttering a prayer, he opened it. Once more, the empty sitting room stood there. He shut the door, then slid down to the floor to rest his back against it. What had he just seen?

Since arriving on Earth, which was an odd name for a world when you thought about it, Venti had done some thinking. The first question had been: Should he return to Mondstadt? Did they even need him anymore, truly? That had always been something he’d wrestled with. He didn’t like the idea of mortals relying on him. Not when he could so easily let them down, as he knew he had done so many times before.

He’d done some poking around, mostly by listening to the wind, and the answer he’d gotten so far was that while dimensional travel was possible, no one seemed to have heard of Teyvat. Fair enough, he supposed. He could keep looking, but until then, he had other pressing business to attend to.

Sighing, Venti turned around, floating in the air as he sped away on the winds away from the automaton that Beezlebul had made. He sometimes forgot that she’d been one of the preeminent generals and Warlords of the Archon War, and not just because she was one of the three people Venti would very much prefer not to actually fight, and never in a direct confrontation. He’d lose that, unless he got very, very lucky. No, she’d been so formidable because her forces were always the best led, the best equipped, and frankly her army had been capable of defeating several major contenders for the chair of Electro Archon all on their own. All thanks to her leadership, and ability with a forge, not the blade.

In fact, her craftsmanship was so impressive, Venti was forced to flip over and put some actual effort into dodging the automaton’s attacks.

“Hey, what’s your name?” Venti called.

The automaton replied by sending an arc of Electro that would actually have hurt pretty badly if Venti hadn’t moved out of the way.

“I could just keep calling you Thunder Thighs, you know.”

Two bolts of lightning from on high. Not very original. Venti yawned as he sent them harmlessly into lightning rods.

“What about Shogunator? How do you feel about that one?”

A quick teleport and a slash that could have cut Venti in half, if he hadn’t seen it coming a mile away. This automaton was skilled, fast, and powerful, but she had none of the true finesse the real Raiden Shogun did. Oh sure, she could have defeated any mortal blade master Venti could think of off the top of his head, but he was still an Archon. He did like to claim he was the weakest of the Seven, which was true from a certain point of view, but that was basically declaring he was the seventh strongest being on Teyvat, Celestia aside.

“Could you maybe call your maker? Because I’m pretty sure your mommy wouldn’t want you fighting an old friend like me!”

“You are a flea unworthy of my  mother’s attention!” Thunder Thighs snarled, and did another one of those teleport and attack things, from below this time. Venti gave her a wet willy as she went past and flew on.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Venti was actually starting to get a little angry. This impudent brat didn’t respond to anything, had no taste in music, having tried to kill Venti even harder when he started to sing a few harmless ditties about Thundering Thighs Saving Lives, and she was frankly boring Venti to tears. He was just about to stop messing around and disable her, then deliver her gift-wrapped to the Japanese Embassy and ask if her mom wanted to come out and play, when the air changed.

The automata sensed it too, and froze mid-attack.

“I think that’s for me,” Venti said, nodding to the pulse of energy that had filled her sword.

“Now you will face the true Judgment of Eternity, interloper. You face now the true Narukami Oshogo, my Mother the-”

“Heya, Beezy! New planet, who dis?” Venti said, floating up to the sword and grinning.

Barbados. I must offer you an apology. My daughter has been led astray and has attacked you in your own territory. For this, I must humble myself, and beg your pardon.

“M-mother?” Thunder Thighs gasped, her eyes going wide as she stared at her sword, within which Ei had manifested as a Thunder Spirit.

“Ah, it’s fine, it’s fine! I would have invited her over to the van for supper! Who’s the lucky man, by the way? Is it Mushu? I didn’t think you were the type!” Venti said, giving the flustered automaton a wink.

You are as impertinent as ever, I see. But no, we must talk. May I manifest in your realm fully?

“Of course, of course! I wanted to have a chat myself,” Venti agreed amicably.

“Mother, I must protest, this man is-”

The God of Freedom, and one of the Seven. You are most fortunate he did not slay you where you stood. Powerful you may be, but you are no god yet. Now, into the blade. We will talk later.

The automaton shot Venti a sour look, then went incorporeal and went into the sword. At the same time, Beezlebul emerged, taking on the form Venti was more familiar with, and taking the blade before it could fall. A mortal watching that blink wouldn’t have even noticed the swap.

They hovered there for a moment, looking at one another. At last, Venti spoke. “So, Earth. Interesting place.”

“Yes,” Beezlebul agreed. “How is…was…Teyvat? My absence…Inazuma?”

Venti shrugged. “To be honest, not sure. I’d just woken from a bit of a nap myself and wasn’t paying much attention. Had a bit of a Fatui problem and a rogue dragon to deal with.”

“Ah. A similar issue led to my arrival here. It seems Dantilion goes too far this time,” Beezelbul said icily.

“So…know a way back?” Venti asked, half hopefully. He couldn’t leave yet, he’d made himself and others certain promises, but…Mondstadt was still home.

“No,” Beezlebul said simply.

They floated for a moment until Venti coughed awkwardly. “I, uh, have never really known how to talk to you.”

That got a faint trace of a smile. “I have never known how to talk to anyone.”

“Hmm. Yeah.” Venti jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Wanna get some drinks?”

“That is acceptable,” Beezlebul agreed, and they floated down to the ground together, then headed for the nearest beer garden.

Author’s Note:

Young woman, GO TO YOUR SWORD! Time out!