With the sizzle of porridge over charcoal fires, the metallic clash of training poles from early risers, and a song drifting above it all. A voice, soft and strange, older than it sounded.
And always—always—there was the wind.
He was part of the city now, that bard. A fixture. Like cracked stone, peeling banners, and the ever-present scent of spirit beast jerky in the morning market.
He'd made his home on the edge of the East Market fountain, where time itself seemed to bend around him. No one knew exactly when he'd arrived, only that he'd been there yesterday, and the day before that, and—surely—he'd be there tomorrow.
The children called him Wind Brother, tugging on his green cape and tossing him stolen apples. The elders, more cautious, claimed he was a wandering spirit master, hiding his true face beneath wine and laughter.
But no one really questioned him.
That's how the wind works.
It simply is.
And on this morning—this very important morning—the wind sang once again.
> "Sing not of swords, nor soul beast fangs,
But winds that lift and fate that sang.
For every ring and every flame,
The wind remembers every name..."
---
Auther stood at the edge of the square, just outside the pull of the crowd, hand pressed over his heart where the soft flicker of a long-silent system menu once danced.
The screen was gone now. The prompts had dried up.
The [STATUS] panel hadn't blinked in weeks.
But that didn't mean it was gone.
Not really.
The last message the system ever gave him was simple:
> [Name: Auther Blackwing
Martial Spirit: Unawakened
Spirit Power: 10]
And then, without fanfare or warning, it dropped Venti into his lap.
No explanation. No mission. Just a prompt—and a wind-swept bard with a grin too wide and eyes too old.
Since then, the system had been silent.
But Venti?
Venti stayed.
Auther wasn't sure if Venti was real.
But he wasn't normal, that was for sure. He never ate. Never seemed to sleep. Never aged a day.
He claimed to be a bard, but every word he spoke felt like it carried weight. Like the breeze leaned in to listen. Like the stars paused just to hear his songs.
And worst of all?
Venti never lied.
That was rare. In this world and the one Auther came from.
---
Today was the day.
The Martial Spirit Awakening Ceremony.
The square was abuzz with excitement, hopeful families pushing their children forward toward the Spirit Hall gates.
For most, it was the beginning of a long, slow journey.
For Auther… it was a gamble.
He adjusted the collar of his plain tunic, feeling the wind nip at his neck. His hands were shaking. Whether from nerves or anticipation, he couldn't say.
Venti looked up mid-verse, his fingers never stopping on the lyre. His eyes found Auther's with a glint of mischief—and something older, deeper.
"You're glowing again," he said, teasing, as a swirl of leaves danced around Auther's boots.
Auther scoffed. "I turned off the interface. They can't see it."
"They can't," Venti agreed, voice light as air. "But the wind can. And the wind talks."
Then, in a single, weightless movement, Venti hopped off the fountain's rim, his boots barely making a sound as they touched the stone below.
"You ready?" he asked.
"No," Auther replied honestly. "But I'm going anyway."
"Perfect." Venti clapped a hand on his shoulder, eyes gleaming. "That's how heroes start. Not with certainty—but with motion. The wind favors those who move."
As Auther turned to go, Venti's voice rose behind him again—softer now, laced with a note that sent shivers down Auther's spine.
> "Let roots awaken, let souls arise,
Let unseen stars burn in your eyes.
The system binds, the wind obeys—
And something new begins today…"
Auther paused, then looked back over his shoulder.
"Truly, you are the best bard of all worlds, Venti. Wish me luck."
Before coming to this world, he'd dreamed of being a singer.
Not a warrior. Not a soul master.
A singer.
But there was never time. Never talent. Never belief.
Venti's grin turned fond. "The best bard of all worlds? Oho~ Flattery from a future legend? I'll take it."
Then, his voice dipped, serious for once. Honest.
"You know, Auther… singing's not about being the best. It's about being heard. About having something to say, and daring to say it."
He tapped his chest. "The heart. That's where every good song starts."
He winked. "And if you ever get bored of spirit beasts and soul rings... I could always use a backup vocalist."
Auther chuckled, and with a breath of wind curling around his feet, he walked toward the gates.
---
Nuoding Spirit Hall – Awakening Chamber
The ceremony was already in full swing. Auther arrived just in time to see Chenyu, the City Lord's youngest son, step down from the circle, proudly summoning a silver-furred wolf martial soul. A respectable awakening. Even more impressive—he had an innate spirit power of 5.
"Congratulations, Brother Chenyu," Auther said as he approached.
"Haha, Brother Art! Glad you made it. Another hour and you'd have had to wait until next year!"
"Hehehe."
What he didn't say was that Auther had almost missed it.
See, his ADHD didn't stay behind on Earth. It hitched a ride through dimensions like an unwanted passenger.
Last night, he'd reminded himself about the ceremony—twice.
He'd even set a pebble under his pillow as a reminder.
But this morning? Poof. Gone. He'd woken up, trained in the field for an hour, eaten his breakfast like it was any other day.
It was only thanks to a kind kid from the dorms who remembered Auther's tendency to forget "important-but-not-immediate" things that he made it at all.
Chenyu grinned, stepping aside. "Alright, Auther. Time for the big moment. Even if you've got no power, you'll still be my little brother."
Auther smiled. "We'll see about that."
He stepped into the circle.
Deacon Sisi, the ceremony overseer, gave him a tried glance. After all she had to spend a lot of soul power to awaken others.
"You're late," the deacon said.
"I know. Thank you for letting me through anyway."
"Hmph. Let's begin."
With a flick of his hand, soul power surged into the array. The floor glowed. A pulse of raw energy hit Auther like a wall.
His knees buckled. His chest expanded like it was being filled with stars.
And then—light.
A blade appeared in his left hand, floating, gleaming with violet edges that shimmered like refracted moonlight.
Sisi's brows furrowed. "You've awakened… a sword martial soul."
Auther stared, heart pounding.
No. Not just any sword.
He recognized the shape. The curve. The violet sheen.
It was Mistsplitter Reforged.
His favorite weapon in Genshin Impact.
The blade he'd farmed weeks for.
The weapon he'd dreamed of holding.
The room held its breath.
Deacon Sisi took out the spirit power crystal, holding it in front of him.
The crystal blazed.
"Innate spirit power," he confirmed. "Very rare. Impressive."
Then, a pause.
"You live with that bard, Venti, don't you?"
Auther hesitated, but nodded. "Yes, Deacon."
Sisi's gaze sharpened. "Then I'd recommend you consider joining Spirit Hall. With guidance, you could grow quickly. We could arrange your first spirit ring, training, protection…"
Auther offered a polite bow. "I appreciate it, ma'am. But I'm not planning to join any faction—yet. I'll remember your offer when the time comes."
Sisi's mouth thinned, but he said nothing more. "Very well. Collect your certificate from my office tomorrow."
Auther turned to go, clutching the Mistsplitter still humming at his side.
Outside, he felt the wind waiting.