Ordinary people probably wouldn't even have the courage to stand up straight in front of her master.
Until a name surfaced in her mind.
Dainsleif.
He was, like her, a remnant of Khaenri'ah. He bore the same curse, and possessed power far beyond ordinary people.
More importantly, Dain had always been fighting the Abyss, fighting the forces that sought to destroy Teyvat.
If it was a fellow companion from Khaenri'ah...
Perhaps it really was possible.
Skirk hesitated no longer, turned, and ran toward the outside of town.
At that moment, Surtr stood in the shadow beneath an eave, watching Skirk's figure vanish beyond the town. The corner of his lips lifted slightly.
"Looks like she's made some progress over the years after all."
He murmured to himself, his tone carrying a rare trace of approval.
The fact that she knew to go looking for Dainsleif proved she was not completely hopeless.
At the very least, she understood what kind of power was needed to stand against what kind of opponent.
Only—
"Dainsleif..." Surtr narrowed his eyes, his fingertips lightly tapping the hilt at his side. "Five hundred years since we last met. I wonder if that stubborn nature of yours has changed."
He withdrew his gaze and prepared to turn away.
And it was at that very moment that his gaze inadvertently swept past the street corner.
Then—
His entire body froze in place.
Those amber eyes, always languid and composed, suddenly shrank to pinpoints.
"How is that possible?"
His voice was so dry he could barely get the words out.
In front of the breakfast stall at the corner, a blond-haired youth was carrying four bulging paper bags, his head tilted as he said something to the small white thing floating in the air.
That familiar blond hair.
That