Genshin Impact: A Fool

The ruins of Old Mondstadt teemed with abyssal horrors, a nightmarish menagerie of twisted abominations rising from the shadows. Hillicurls, their forms bloated and misshapen, lumbered forward with guttural snarls. Dark wolves, their eyes glowing like embers, stalked through the darkness, teeth bared in vicious grins.

And the Mitachurls, beings of raw elemental power, hovered above the fray, their hands weaving intricate patterns as they summoned forth writhing tendrils of dark energy that impaled the ground like twisted spears.

Heins's gaze hardened as he took in the scene before him, his crimson eyes flashing with a murderous light. The black orb hovered ominously above, surrounded by the four Abyss Mages who chanted in a guttural tongue, their voices rising in a sinister chorus.

And there, perched regally upon its lair, was the Stormterror itself - a massive dragon, its scales shimmering in shades of blue, from the palest aqua to the deepest indigo, its four wings folded behind it like the petals of a grotesque flower.

Heins cursed under his breath, realizing the true nature of the dark ritual being prepared. They were attempting to harness the Stormterror's power, to bend it to their malevolent will.

A surge of rage and determination coursed through his veins, and he allowed his killing intent to erupt forth in a cataclysmic display of crimson fury.

Heins moved like a whirlwind, his sword a blur of merciless steel as he carved a path through the abyssal horde. With each step, each swing, he left a trail of fallen foes in his wake, their twisted bodies crumpling like marionettes with their strings cut.

The red currents of his Blood Electro raged around him, a cacophony of destruction that sought to tear apart all that dared stand in his way.

Yet even with his preternatural speed and agility, Heins could not escape the relentless onslaught of dark impales that erupted from the earth.

Jagged shards of obsidian pierced his flesh, drawing lines of crimson across his legs and arms. The pain was a distant thing, a fleeting annoyance that only served to fuel the inferno of his rage.

"No wonder the Reconnaissance Team fell..." Heins muttered, a grim realization dawning upon him. To face such a horde, to confront the abyssal minions, required strength and power beyond the ken of mortal men. And yet, he would not falter. He could not.

With a roar that echoed like thunder, Heins launched himself at the heart of the battle, his sword held high. The dragon's eyes flicked open, fixing him with a gaze that seemed to pierce his very soul, before they closed again, as if it was but an illusion.

The Abyss Mages turned their attention to him, their chanting rising to a fevered pitch.

Heins stood tall amidst the chaos, a lone figure against the darkness. The battle for Old Mondstadt, for the fate of the Stormterror and the world beyond, had only just begun.

The four Abyss Mages, cloaked in their dark robes and masked in eerie silence, continued their eldritch incantation.

The black orb pulsed and throbbed above them, drinking in the malevolent energy that poured forth from the abyssal creatures they had summoned. They were confident in their power, certain that the horde of twisted beasts would be more than enough to overwhelm the young mortal who dared to intrude upon their dark ritual.

However, as the clash intensified, the cacophony of steel against flesh and the thunderous roar of Heins's Electro power filled the air, and one of the Abyss Mages could no longer resist the urge to witness the battle firsthand.

He turned, his masked visage swiveling towards the heart of the fray, and beheld a sight that struck fear into his ancient heart.

There stood Heins, a figure drenched in the blood and viscera of his fallen foes. Crimson gore clung to his skin, dripping from his sword and splattered across his armor.

And yet, despite the grievous wounds that littered his body, he remained standing, a pillar of unyielding determination amidst the chaos.

As the Abyss Mage watched, Heins's eyes flared with a violet splendor, his crimson irises blazing like hellish stars against the darkness. His killing intent, already a palpable force, surged forth in a tidal wave of raw, unadulterated fury. It crashed against the remaining abyssal creatures like a physical blow, and they recoiled as if struck by an unseen hand.

The Mitachurls, those beings of pure elemental power, unleashed a barrage of dark impales. They burst forth from the earth like a macabre forest of obsidian thorns, seeking to skewer the young warrior who dared to defy them. But Heins was already moving, his sword a blur of silver lightning as he tore through the impales with a single, devastating slash.

In a splendorous heap of crimson thunder, he erupted through the gap, his Blood Electro raging around him like a crown of murderous flames. He appeared behind the nearest Mitachurl, his sword already poised to strike.

The abyssal beast had no time to react, no chance to defend itself, before Heins's blade plunged into its chest, piercing its twisted heart and extinguishing its unnatural life in a single, merciless stroke.

Heins did not pause, did not hesitate. In a flash of blinding speed, he was gone, vanishing like a specter and reappearing amidst the next cluster of abyssal horrors. His sword sang a song of death; each notes a fallen foe, each chord a symphony of destruction.

The Abyss Mage trembled, a primal fear gripping his ancient heart as he beheld the young warrior's unholy prowess. Such power, such fury, such unyielding determination... it defied belief. How could a mere little mortal, a child by the standards of the Abyss, possess such staggering might?

As the last of the abyssal creatures fell before Heins's onslaught, the four Abyss Mages exchanged uneasy glances beneath their masks.

The ritual orb pulsed erratically above them, its dark energy fluctuating as the sacrifices they had made began to wane. They knew they could no longer afford to underestimate this young fighter, this Heins who had burst into their sanctum like a crimson comet.

The leader of the Abyss Mages, his voice a guttural rasp that cut through the chaos like a knife, barked out his orders. "Fend him off, you three. I shall maintain the ritual." His gaze, hidden behind the grotesque mask, flicked to the pulsing orb above, its darkness churning with the malevolent energy poured into it. "Recall all the monsters outside. We can no longer afford to underestimate this warrior's prowess."

The three subordinates nodded in unison, their cloaks billowing like shadows given form. They turned to face the heart of the battle, their staffs clutched tightly in their gnarled hands.

However, Heins was already upon them, a relentless force of nature that could not be stayed. The very air crackled with the power of his Blood Electro, the crimson currents surging through his veins like a river of liquid fire. And as the leader finished his command, Heins struck.

A flash of searing, destructive light erupted behind the nearest Abyss Mage. The crimson thunder, imbued with the pure, annihilating power of Heins's Red Blood Electro, tore through the Abyss Mage like a hot knife through butter. The elemental green barrier was pierced directly, rendering his defense measure useless and disregarded.

His robes disintegrated, his flesh charred, and his very essence, the dark contentment that had sustained his unnatural life, was scoured away in an instant. The Abyss Mage crumpled, little more than a pile of ash and cinders, his existence erased as if it had never been.

The remaining two Abyss Mages acted on instinct, their training and reflexes honed by centuries of dark sorcery. The light-blue-robed mage, his eyes glinting with malice behind his mask, swept his staff in a wide arc.

Instantly, a barrage of glittering ice spikes erupted from the ground, each one a shimmering lance of frozen power. They hurtled towards Heins, seeking to impale and encase him in an icy tomb.

Simultaneously, the other mage, clad in the darkest of their number, tapped a sigil etched into the unknown device he clutched. The air shimmered, and the cacophony of the battle was suddenly joined by a new symphony - the howls and roars of a thousand abyssal beasts, pouring in from the ruins of Old Mondstadt. They swarmed towards the heart of the fray, a tide of claws, fangs, and dark sorcery, seeking to overwhelm and exhaust the relentless warrior.

Yet even as the ice spikes closed in and the horde of abyssal horrors surged forth, Heins remained undeterred. He had tasted the true power of his Red Blood Electro in this battle and had felt it surge through him like a divine revelation.

And with that revelation came a newfound understanding - his power, his fury, his very essence, was a force of pure destruction. It could not be resisted, could not be matched by the paltry sorceries of these Abyss Mages.

Heins's eyes flared with a violet light, his crimson irises blazing like the hearts of dying stars. The ice spikes, those glittering shards of frozen power, shattered against an unseen barrier as Heins's Electro energy flared outwards. They crumbled, they fragmented, and they turned to steam in the face of his unassailable might.

And the horde of abyssal beasts, those twisted abominations summoned to exhaust the warrior, found themselves facing a foe they could not hope to overcome.

Heins's Red Blood Electro, that power of pure annihilation, surged forth like a tidal wave. It crashed against the horde, and they screamed as it tore through their ranks, as it burned away their unnatural flesh and left only ash and cinders in its wake.

He stood tall amidst the destruction, his armor splattered with the blood and viscera of his foes, his sword held high.

The two remaining Abyss Mages trembled, their confidence wavering as they beheld the young warrior's unstoppable power.

They knew they would have to combine their darkest sorceries, their most malevolent magics, to stand any hope of defeating him.

He moved like a man possessed, his crimson eyes blazing with a maddened light, his handsome face etched in a cold, ruthless grin.

The air around him crackled and popped with the fury of his power, the currents of murderous energy coiling around him like the tentacles of some eldritch beast. It was a terrifying sight, a vision of unbridled destruction given human form.

With each swing of his sword, Heins left a trail of fallen abyssal creatures in his wake. A dozen, a score, a hundred... they fell before him like wheat before a scythe, their malevolent essences scattering on the wind.

Heins was a crimson comet, a falling star of annihilation, and the horde could not withstand his relentless onslaught.

The light-blue-robed Abyss Mage, the one who had summoned the horde, had no time to react. One moment he stood there, his staff raised, his incantation on his lips.

The next, Heins was upon him, a grinning specter of death and destruction. The Abyss Mage had time only to scream, a sound cut short as Heins's blade cleaved through his robes, his flesh, his bone, and his dark heart.

Black blood, thick and viscous, sprayed from the wound, sizzling and hissing as it was seared by the murderous intent that clung to Heins like a second skin. The light-blue robes turned to ash, the flesh beneath crumbling to dust, and the Abyss Mage was no more, his existence erased in a single, merciless stroke.

As the minutes ticked by, the horde of abyssal creatures dwindled, their numbers thinning with each passing second. Heins's power showed no sign of abating, his fury no indication of waning. He was a force of nature, a hurricane of destruction, and they could not hope to withstand his onslaught.

The leader of the Abyss Mages, the one who had given the orders to fend off Heins and recall the horde, watched in growing horror as the young warrior cut a swath of destruction through the ranks of their summoned abyssal minions. His eyes, hidden behind the grotesque mask, widened as he beheld the sheer, unrelenting power of Heins's Red Blood Electro.

Finally, after half an hour of unrelenting carnage, Heins stood amidst the ruins of his victory. Hundreds of abyssal corpses littered the ground, their twisted forms splayed out in grotesque parody of life.

The stench of death hung heavy in the air, the metallic tang of blood and the acrid reek of charred flesh assaulting the senses.

Heins, his armor splattered with the detritus of battle, his sword dripping with the gore of his enemies, turned to face the leader of the Abyss Mages.

His crimson eyes, still blazing with the aftermath of his bloodlust, fixed upon the dark sorcerer with a predatory intensity. The message was clear - he would not stop, would not cease his destruction, until the last of these abyssal abominations was purged from the world.

The leader of the Abyss Mages, the one who had instigated this ritual, felt a primal fear grip his ancient heart. He had seen the depths of Heins's power, had witnessed the unstoppable fury of his Red Blood Electro. The fear of the unknown power before it... This fear was something that had never been feel so real to him.

And he knew, with a grim certainty, that this young warrior would not rest until the Stormterror was freed from the abyss's thrall, until the dark sorcery that sustained his existence was shattered like a fragile vase.

The leader of the Abyss Mages, his voice a rasping whisper, tried to speak. "You... you cannot hope to defeat us, mortal. The power of the Abyss is infinite, eternal. You may have won this battle, but the war... the war is far from over." His words were cut off by a sudden, agonized gasp as Heins's blade bit deep, cleaving through his armor and flesh like a hot knife through butter.

Heins, his eyes blazing with a manic intensity, his body wracked with exhaustion, knew he had to act fast. The leader's words were meant to sow doubt, to plant the seeds of fear in his heart. But Heins was a pragmatist, a survivor. He knew that in this world, hesitation was a luxury he could not afford.

He could not afford to deliver lines in a battle.

With a burst of his remaining strength, Heins unleashed his trump card.

The Symphony of Death.

It was a technique he had honed through a momentary enlightenment, a single, instantaneous strike designed to end a fight with a single blow.

The crimson thunder erupted from his blade, a searing bolt of annihilating power that pierced the leader's flesh like a lance of pure destruction.

The leader froze, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief as he felt the searing agony of Heins's blade piercing his heart. He tried to react, to call upon his darkest sorceries, but it was too late. The Symphony of Death had already claimed him, had already begun its grim work.

Heins, his strength spent, collapsed to the ground as the leader's body crumpled, bisected by the devastating strike.

The Abyss Mage leader's form shuddered, then stilled, his existence fading like a guttering candle flame. The dark sorcerer's blood, thick and black as pitch, pooled on the cold stone floor, a testament to his demise.

But as the leader fell, the Abyss reacted with a sudden, violent throb. The abyssal core, that pulsating heart of darkness, shuddered and quaked, its obsidian surface rippling like the surface of a lake disturbed by a thrown stone, as if raging for its disturbed by the discontinuation of the ritual.

Heins, too exhausted to move, could only watch in grim fascination as the core began to shrink, its size diminishing with each passing second.

The core shrank and shrank, until it was no larger than a pebble, a mere fraction of its former size. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the core began to expand. It swelled like a balloon filled with dark energy, its surface stretching taut and glistening with an oily sheen.

Heins, his strength fading, his vision swimming, could only watch as the core engulfed him, its darkness pulling him in like a vortex. The last thing he saw before the abyss claimed him was the glistening obsidian surface, looming large and featureless, before it swallowed him whole.

Before he was engulfed, Heins chuckled wryly, "I claimed to be pragmatic, but I sacrifice my life not for Fatui or my Mistress, but for... Mondstadt..."

"Khekh... What a fool I am... I am sorry... Mistress... I... Stupidly broke my promise to you... Of never bending for you..."

The ruin fell silent, the only sound the distant howling of the wind and the creaking of ancient stone. The Stormterror, Dvalin, slumbered in his lair, untroubled by the battle that had raged below. The abyss had claimed its price, and the world of men was left to ponder the consequences of their actions.

Heins had won the battle, had freed the Stormterror from the Abyss's thrall. But at what cost? The road ahead was uncertain, the future shrouded in darkness.

Only time would tell if the sacrifices made, the lives lost, had been worth the price of the Stormterror's freedom.

The knights stood in stunned silence, their eyes wide with a mixture of awe and disbelief as they beheld the scene before them. The vast chamber was a charnel house, a graveyard of the fallen, where the twisted corpses of the abyssal monsters lay strewn about like discarded marionettes. Each one bore a single, clean wound, a testament to the devastating power of Heins's blade.

The team that had followed Heins back then gasped, and one of them couldn't help but voiced out, his tone breathless and shuddering, "M-Master Fool... Did this all? J-Just how powerful he is?"

Terlad, his heart pounding in his chest, rushed towards the center of the ruin where the abyssal core had once pulsed with malevolent energy. He scanned the ground, his eyes falling upon the pool of black blood, the tattered remains of the light-blue robe, and the unmistakable black fabric of Heins's cloak.

"Master Fool's cloak..." Terlad breathed, his voice trembling with emotion. "He... he can't be..."

The knight beside him, his face pale and eyes wide, stammered out a question that hung heavy in the air. "Master Fool... did he... did he perish?"

A hush fell over the assembled knights as they turned to their Captain Cavalry, seeking answers in his stern, unyielding gaze. The Captain, his jaw clenched tight, could only clench the black fabric of Heins's cloak in his fist, his eyes squeezing shut against the weight of the revelation.

Heins, the unassuming boy who had arrived in Mondstadt mere months ago, had single-handedly turned the tide of a war that threatened to engulf the nation.

He had confronted the dark ritual of the Abyss, had stared into the abyss itself, and had emerged victorious. But at what cost?

The knights murmured amongst themselves, their voices a mix of reverence and grief. "An unmatched prodigy of the ages," they whispered, shaking their heads in disbelief. "Just a boy, and he had already achieved feats that would be the stuff of legends for generations to come."

Heins had not just saved Mondstadt from a dire fate, but had also freed the Stormterror from the Abyss's thrall. The dragon above slumbered on, its breath a gentle sigh in the stillness of the ruin, a symbol of the peace that Heins had fought so hard to achieve.

As the knights stood there, amidst the carnage and the silence, they couldn't help but feel a profound sense of loss.

They had underestimated Heins, had seen him as a mere child, a prodigy to be nurtured and guided. But Heins had proven them all wrong, had shown them the true depths of his power and his courage.

Heins was gone, sacrificed in the line of duty, a hero's death for a hero's life. And as the knights filed out of the ruin, their hearts heavy with grief and awe, they knew that the tale of Heins would be told and retold for generations to come.

The boy who had stared down the abyss and emerged victorious, the unmatched prodigy of the ages, would live on in their memories and in the annals of Mondstadt's history.

At dawn, an unassuming civilian was about to get back to the walls of Mondstadt when he saw a group of knights mounted on their horses from afar. It took a while for him to recognize them before his eyes set themselves on the flag, etched with the symbol of Anemo Archon.

The civilian widened his eyes. He quickly entered Mondstadt and screamed at the top of his lungs, "The Cavalry Unit is back!!!!!"

The news of the Cavalry Unit's return spread like wildfire through the streets of Mondstadt.

The once anxious and worried citizens now erupted in cheers and applause, their voices ringing out in a chorus of relief and joy. The atmosphere was electric, the air filled with a palpable sense of relief and happiness.

Terlad, leading the procession, felt a swell of pride and gratitude. He had led his knights to victory, had brought them home safe and sound.

The sacrifices made, the battles fought, had all been worth it. As he rode through the gates, he saw the smiling faces of his fellow citizens, their eyes shining with tears of happiness and relief.

Some knights, upon dismounting, were immediately engulfed in the embrace of loved ones. Wives, parents, and children clung to them, their tears flowing freely as they poured out their pent-up emotions. The knights, in turn, held them close, their own eyes glistening with unshed tears of joy and gratitude.

Others, like Terlad, had to maintain a semblance of composure. They knew that there were still matters to attend to, announcements to be made. The Captain would have to address the citizens, to tell them of their victory and the true nature of the battle.

Jean and Eula stood hand in hand, their smiles a beacon of hope and reassurance, the former's bright and the latter's tight. They had promised Heins that they would greet him with their smiles, and they intended to keep that promise.

Behind their smiles, however, a flicker of concern lingered. They had not seen Heins among the returning knights, and a small part of them worried about his safety.

Diluc and Kaeya, leaning on the poles of their respective stands, flickered between anxiety and concern. When they ventured out, which was possible due to Diluc's official status of being a knight, they had seen the destruction left in the wake of the battle, the aftermath of the fight against the Abyss.

They became somewhat worried regarding the true nature of the victory and the price that had been paid for it. And when they did not spot their foolish friend, they have a bad feeling.

As the cheers and applause died down, a hush fell over the gathered crowd. Terlad, his voice ringing out clear and strong, addressed the citizens of Mondstadt.

"People of Mondstadt," he began, his voice echoing through the square, "we have returned victorious. The threat that loomed over our fair city has been vanquished, and the Stormterror is free from the Abyss's dark thrall."

Murmurs of surprise and awe rippled through the crowd. They had heard rumors of the battle, whispers of the dark ritual that had been performed. They also did not expect that the ritual would include one of the Four Winds, the Stormterror!

But to hear it confirmed, to know that their city was truly safe, filled them with a profound sense of relief and gratitude.

Terlad continued, his voice growing somber. "But our victory did not come without a price. We fought against a foe unlike any we have faced before, a darkness that sought to consume all that we hold dear. And in the face of that darkness, a hero emerged, a brave young hero. A hero who, with his courage and his power, turned the tide of the battle and saved us all."

The crowd fell silent, their eyes fixed on Terlad, their hearts pounding in anticipation. They immediately recognized who he was speaking of, the unassuming boy who had arrived in Mondstadt mere months ago. The boy who later became known as Jean Gunnhildr's Master and the most powerful amongst his generation.

A mother who stood beside her son, who was a part of the Cavalry, became worried, "What happened to the boy?"

Her son merely bowed his head, answering her with defeaning silence. Every knight did the same. Even Terlad did the same.

Some sharp citizens have an inkling, and their heart sank.

Terlad took a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke the words that would forever change the course of Mondstadt's history.

"Master Fool, the unmatched prodigy, the hero of our age, made the ultimate sacrifice. He faced the Abyss alone, and with his final, heroic act, he sealed away its darkness and freed the Stormterror from its grasp."

A gasp rippled through the crowd, followed by a moment of stunned silence. Then, as if a dam had burst, the people of Mondstadt began to weep, their tears a mixture of grief and gratitude, of sorrow and awe.

Jean and Eula, their smiles faltering, looked at Terlad with a expression of anger, disbelief and shock.

They had known that Heins was powerful, had seen glimpses of the depths of his abilities. But to hear that he had faced the Abyss alone, that he had made the ultimate sacrifice for the sake of Mondstadt and its people... it was almost too much to comprehend.

Jean cannot control her tears as she collapsed to the ground, weakly pounding the solid ground. The words weakened her so much that she felt like the world had crumbled. Her beloved Master, her Guardian...

"It's not fair. It's not fair!"

As Jean began to sob, Eula stayed silent. She lowered her head, her face loomed by the shadow of her uneven bangs as she turned on her heels and made a desperate sprint, to go as far as she could from the scene. After she was far enough, her little form trembled as tears too streamed out of her unique eyes, her face was filled with rage, disappointment, sorrow, sadness, regret, resentment...

"F-Fool... Y-You jerk... You said you'll come back...!!!"

"*Sob... I hate you!!!"

Diluc and Kaeya abruptly froze, and their faces were slowly etched with a mix of sadness and rage. Diluc trembled as he punched the pole, his rage growing instead of ceasing with each assault he delivered, his Pyro Vision flaring wildly. He hissed venomously, "F*cking Abyss..."

Kaeya patted his brother on the back, while his other hand clenched in a tight fist. It was so tight that his exotic skin turned to white. He gritted his teeth, trying his very best to remain cool-headed. Fool... He was not just a friend. He was also a mentor for them, a boy their age that they could hang out with yet so powerful and experienced that they couldn't help but admire him.

They would never admitted it outrightly, but Fool... He was like a hero for them.

As the people of Mondstadt wept and mourned the loss of their hero, they also celebrated his victory.

They knew that Heins's sacrifice had not been in vain, that his heroic actions had saved their city and their way of life.

And as they looked to the future, they vowed to honor his memory, to live their lives in a way that would make him proud. Heroic people should not be mourned for, instead, one should smile in reverent and respect, and let the Heroic soul know that he was the reason they could smile happily.

The age of Heins, which was unimaginably short, the age of the unmatched prodigy, may have come to an end. But his legend would live on, etched forever in the hearts and minds of the people of Mondstadt.

Fool, the hero who had stared down the abyss and emerged victorious, would be remembered as the greatest prodigy of all time. And the city he had saved would stand as a testament to his courage, his bravery, and his unwavering commitment to the ideals of freedom and justice.

That night, Heins's admirers screeched and wept as they hugged the trinkets of Heins that some business opportunists had created when they noticed the handsome boy's attraction, keeping it tightly to their heart.

In the future, there would be a legend. Rumours have it that in the night of Master Fool's ultimate heroic sacrifice against the Abyss, Mondstadt was filled with howling ghosts and weeping banshees. It was later known as the Ghost's Mourning, a phenomenon only a hero's ultimate sacrifice could instigate, which was when the hero's soul was revered and respected even by the ghosts.

...Whatever that was.

An: Mondstadt has finally comes to an end! Next, guess where he would go?

1. The Abyss

2. Fontaine

3. Inazuma

4. Random Ruin

5. An OL (Lol)