Ren's confidence in his own abilities had grown, and with it, a desire for solitary practice. He loved his sessions with Ganyu and Keqing, but sometimes, he needed to explore his power on his own terms, without the loving, watchful eyes of his guardians.
He found a perfect, secluded spot: a small, hidden cove north of the Harbor, where the waves of the Bishui River lapped gently against a rocky shore, far from the main trade routes. It was here, one quiet, overcast afternoon, that his peaceful solitude was broken.
He was practicing his shields, creating and dissolving them in the air, when he felt a sudden, oppressive shift in the atmosphere. The air grew heavy, charged with a malevolent, crackling energy. A figure was walking down the beach towards him.
He was a young man of slight build, dressed in the dark, ornate attire of Inazuma, adorned with a large, feathered hat. His face was unnervingly beautiful, almost doll-like, but his expression was one of pure, condescending scorn. His indigo eyes, sharp and full of a cold, ancient anger, were fixed on Ren. It was the Balladeer, the Sixth of the Fatui Harbingers, Scaramouche.
"Well, well," Scaramouche sneered, his voice dripping with a venomous disdain. "What do we have here? Another one of Liyue's precious little treasures, out all alone. They told me the 'inventor' was just a child, but I didn't imagine something so… nauseatingly pretty."
Ren immediately went on guard. He didn't summon a shield, knowing it would be a useless provocation. He simply stood his ground, his face a mask of calm, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm. He remembered the stories from the game. This Harbinger was not like the curious Sandrone. He was unstable, arrogant, and incredibly dangerous. Saying nothing, he knew, was the safest option.
The Balladeer seemed to take his silence as a sign of fear, which only fueled his contempt. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? Or are you just as empty on the inside as you are pretty on the outside?" He took a step closer, a faint, crackling aura of Electro energy beginning to form around his fingertips.
Ren tensed, ready to erect a shield, knowing it would likely be his last.
But before Scaramouche could take another step, a new voice, light and musical, cut through the tense air.
"Now, now, Balladeer. Is there really any need for that?"
Another figure appeared, seemingly from nowhere, placing herself with a graceful, deliberate movement directly between Ren and the approaching Harbinger. It was Sandrone. Her ever-present automaton stood silently behind her, its single, glowing eye fixed on Scaramouche like the gaze of a predator.
"Sandrone," Scaramouche hissed, his scornful expression twisting into one of pure, unfiltered annoyance. "What a surprise. To see you outside of your filthy, grease-stained workshop is a rarer sight than a talking boar. Have you finally grown tired of your little toys?"
Sandrone simply smiled, her expression one of cheerful, condescending amusement. "One could say I'm merely checking on a potential… future investment," she said, her gaze flicking back to Ren for a fraction of a second. "And I find your attempts at intimidation to be so dreadfully dull. Honestly, your pettiness is a sore for the eyes."
"Stay out of this, Marionette," Scaramouche snapped, his patience clearly wearing thin. "This has nothing to do with you."
"Oh, but I think it does," Sandrone replied, her pleasant tone unwavering. "You see, I find this little one's company to be delightful. He's intelligent, his ideas are fascinating, and he doesn't have the grating, utterly predictable personality of a spoiled child throwing a tantrum." She looked him up and down, her smile widening. "Unlike some Harbingers I could mention."
The insult was direct, sharp, and utterly dismissive. Scaramouche's face contorted with a silent, furious rage. He looked from Sandrone's cheerful, mocking smile, to her silent, towering automaton, and then to the small, quiet child she was so strangely protecting. A fight here, against her and her machine, would be messy, unpredictable, and ultimately, a waste of his time.
With a final, venomous glare, he scoffed. "Fine. Keep your pretty little pet. It's not worth my time anyway." He turned on his heel and stalked away, his furious, crackling energy dissipating with him.
Sandrone watched him go, the smile never leaving her face. When he was finally out of sight, she turned to Ren, her expression softening slightly.
"You must forgive my colleague," she said, her voice dripping with a false sincerity. "He has a terrible case of jealousy. He simply can't stand it when something is prettier than he is." She gave Ren a conspiratorial wink. "You, my dear Ren, are an affront to his entire existence. You should probably try to be less cute in the future. It's for your own safety."
Ren, his heart still pounding from the encounter, could only stare. He had just been saved from one of the most dangerous beings in Teyvat by another, equally dangerous being, who was now teasing him about being too cute. The world, he decided, had gone completely and utterly mad.