Ye Ruo shone like a rising star among the Knights of Favonius, his brilliance impossible to ignore.
His swordsmanship alone set him apart, a talent that turned heads and stoked awe.
He'd even revived a lost art, tracing the steps of Erendlin, the Lion of Light, a former Grand Master.
That style blended longsword and greatsword in a dance of devastating grace, power blooming with every swing.
Falga, the current Grand Master, had beamed with pride, declaring Ye Ruo a treasure unearthed by chance.
Who'd have guessed a stray boy could become the Knights' golden prodigy?
Mondstadt's luck ran deep, and Falga basked in it, chest puffed with self-satisfaction.
Ye Ruo's path had started under Falga's wing, a mentorship that shaped him into a cornerstone.
His standing among the Knights soared, earned through sweat and steel alongside grizzled veterans.
In elemental mastery, his dual command of wind doubled his joy and his might.
That rare gift made him a titan among Vision bearers, his gales outmatching the norm.
Elemental power bent to no rigid rules, inviting invention from those bold enough to dream.
Drawing from past-life memories, Ye Ruo sculpted new wind techniques, each one a thrill to wield.
Blasts that roared forward, bursts that propelled him in streaks—wind was his playground.
He stood atop the Knights' ranks, unchallenged save for Falga, whom he'd never fully tested.
Secretly, he envied the water Vision holders, their versatility a siren call from his old world.
Yelan's stealth, Mona's teleportation, Barbara's healing—water wielded wonders he admired.
Those abilities promised attack and defense, a balance he sometimes craved over wind's wild rush.
Plus, water Vision bearers always seemed to swim in Mora, a perk he couldn't deny.
Mona might squander her wealth, but Ye Ruo scraped by, taking missions to fill his purse.
For a time, he'd pushed himself hard, tackling daunting tasks that left peers slack-jawed.
Yet even a genius like him stumbled through life's thorns, brilliance no shield against fate.
He'd crossed blades with the Fatui's Doctor, a sinister mind lurking in Mondstadt's shadows.
Their clashes unfolded in secret, a dance of wits and power beneath the city's notice.
At first, Ye Ruo floundered, the Doctor's strength a wall he couldn't breach.
That Harbinger wielded prosthetic doubles, each a slice of himself at different peaks.
The one in Mondstadt wasn't his strongest, yet it still dwarfed most Vision bearers.
Dottore had dismissed Diluc's might as trivial, a barb that underscored his arrogance.
Worse, he'd fixated on Ye Ruo, his gaze a predator's, hungry to dissect a mystery.
That twisted stare—greedy, invasive—churned Ye Ruo's stomach with disgust.
A madman obsessed with experiments, the Doctor saw him as a prize to unravel.
But each fight honed Ye Ruo sharper, experience turning losses into hard-won gains.
He'd struck back, making the Doctor falter, tasting small victories in their shadow war.
Eventually, the prosthetic retreated to Snezhnaya, called by duties Ye Ruo couldn't guess.
Still, he knew the lunatic would return, drawn by that warped fixation on his essence.
A fated foe, sticky as tar, the Doctor haunted him like a curse from another tale.
Other travelers found love or glory—why was he saddled with this perverse shadow?
Yet fear didn't grip him; he'd grown into a force, steady and unyielding.
Falga trusted him wholly, a pillar even the Grand Master leaned on without doubt.
His wind mastery, honed to perfection, turned the Doctor's taunts into hollow echoes.
Their dark duels had become a game, Ye Ruo outwitting the Harbinger time and again.
Now, he'd stepped away from the Knights, chasing a quieter call within himself.
His free spirit baffled comrades, but they let him roam, helpless to cage him.
They knew him—reliable Ye Ruo, taking a sabbatical, not abandoning their cause.
In crises, he'd always returned, a steadfast ally when Mondstadt needed him most.
The Knights hummed along without him, led by stalwarts like Jean, Amber, and Kaeya.
Surely they could handle the everyday chaos—Ye Ruo trusted them to rise to it.
His true turning point came when the system, dormant for years, stirred awake.
It had greeted him as a child, granting wind control before fading into silence.
A decade later, it blinked back to life, a companion he'd almost forgotten.
His strength until now? All his own, carved from grit and relentless effort.
"I've clawed my way here through sheer will," he'd boast, chest swelling with pride.
Then, out in the wild, tracking monster spoor, a chime rang through his mind.
The system's voice broke through, crisp and clear, announcing its return.
"Ding, sleep mode ended—loading complete. Access usage details at your leisure."
A flood of data danced before his eyes, startling him mid-hunt.
Goldfinger online at last, a lifeline from his past world finally active.
He studied it, probing its rigid, mechanical nature, all orbiting around him.
Questions drew answers, simple and direct, a tool with no frills or flair.
That suited him fine—pure utility over pomp was his style.
After tinkering, he grasped its purpose: a novel lottery system, tied to his pen.
Write stories, share them, and earn [Legendary Degree], a bard's measure of influence.
The more his tales spread, the greater his reward—a spark to fuel his quiet dream.
He'd left the Knights to chase this, to craft worlds instead of wield blades.
Mondstadt's winds carried his name now, not as a knight, but as a storyteller.
The system pulsed faintly, a partner in his quest to reclaim a simpler life.
He stood on a cliff, gazing at the city, its windmills spinning in lazy circles.
His past—truck, rebirth, Fatui escape—felt distant, a prologue to this moment.
The Doctor's shadow lingered, but Ye Ruo's quill would outlast that menace.
He'd fought for freedom once; now, he'd write it, defying fate with every word.
***
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