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gearhawk-studios · 3 years

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Genshin Impact: Bloodlines

Prologue Part 3: Heart of a Hero

A wide known fact is that distractions can be a detriment to an author, whose mind and will is dedicated to committing stories to pen and paper. So, it is a necessity to find a workspace with the least amount of distractions, but the greatest amount of inspiration. For the 16-year-old Xandrin Scribhneoir, he preferred sitting on his favored boulder at the Falcon Coast. The lapping waves, the salty breeze, the occasional animal companion scurrying across the sandy surfaces, the gentle setting sun setting the sky ablaze in orange and blues… it was a place Xandrin found himself alone most of the time and had not taken this fact for granted.

He returned his sight to the leather bound notebook in his lap, already halfway filled with the tales of an upcoming knight of the Gunhildr Clan. When Xandrin had seen her on the training grounds of the Knights of Favonius, it was clear she had the will of a lion with her devastating swordplay, but the heart of a dandelion, soft and sweet. A perfect example of what Mondstadt’s knights should aspire to be, Xandrin thought to himself as he continued to write.

“Master Xandrin!”

The young man sighed, realizing his time uninterrupted was coming to an end. Closing his book, the Scribhneoir heir turned to see an older gentleman, wearing the black suit of a butler, rushing through the fields. His grey hair was tied into a long, slim and well kept ponytail, the beard trimmed with great finesse. The gentleman stopped at the stone, panting and coughing, “M-master Xandrin… please, you must not keep doing this…”

“Hector,” Xandrin addressed the man, wearing an exasperated smile on his face, “I’ve told you a hundred times, I can handle myself out here. Fiora made sure I wasn’t defenseless like I used to be.”

Hector raised his head, taking out a handkerchief and dapping the deep wrinkles on his forehead, “Be that as it may… your parents have expressly stated that I am to keep you in my sight at all times. So, would you please stop slipping away from me?”

With a mix of a sigh and a chuckle, Xandrin slid down from his favored spot and nodded to the butler, “I will do my best, Hector. C’mon, we should probably get back home.”

Gathering up his satchel and his writing supplies, Xandrin slung the bag over his shoulder and led Hector back down the all familiar path to Mondstadt. The smell of the salt on the air was soon replaced with the scent of the multitude of flowers around the fields of Windrise, something that made Xandrin smile.

“How is your next work coming along, Master Xandrin?” Hector spoke, his tone more composed.

Xandrin turned to him and thought for a moment, “It’s coming along. Just a little unnerving having to get this done within a month.”

“Such is the bane of authors, sir. A life of deadlines and writer’s block.”

Chuckling, Xandrin nodded, “It certainly can be, Hector. It certainly can.”

The two continued along, passing a flock of small birds that took off into the air. Xandrin watched them fly, leaving behind a couple of feathers that danced in the breeze. As Xandrin observed them, Hector spoke up once more, “May I ask a question, Master Xandrin?”

Xandrin nodded, still watching the feathers float to the ground. Hector cleared his throat, “You’ve been writing about the heroes of Mondstadt for quite a while, I have been wondering… have you not considered making a story of yourself?”

There was a long pause, as Xandrin turned and looked at Hector. Then, he shook his head, “I’m not much of a hero, Hector. What would there be to write? I’m just a writer, nothing much else to it.”

Hector smiled tiredly, “Perhaps, Master Xandrin. But have you-“

Xandrin held up a hand, both him and Hector stopping in their tracks. There was a new smell in the air. There was the faint scent of smoke… of blood. Eyes widening, he turned to Hector. Seeing his young master’s look in his gaze, Hector nodded as they turned their attention to the massive tree in the distance. The symbol of Vennessa.

Together they ran over, moving carefully over the massive roots of this ancient tree. As they moved, Xandrin noticed jagged scorch marks across the various roots, not caused by normal fire. He also saw broken sticks and shards of metal. Before he could notice more, Hector held out an arm, motioning for Xandrin to stop and get low.

Dropping behind one of the roots, Xandrin and his trusty butler peeked over to see a most disturbing sight. At the base of the tree was a statue to Barbatos, the Anemo Archon and God of Freedom. It was a spot common for the Sisters of the Church of Mondstadt to come to offer respects with the Knights of Favonius watching over them. Two such sisters, though one looked to be about Xandrin’s age while the other could be no older than 11, were fearful as a man in dark and rusted armor approached them. A knight, his own armor scorched, lay motionless on the ground with his claymore stuck in the ground.

The man approached the two girls, his long black hair free and only lightly obscuring his scarred face. He held a black sword, which seemed to crackle with lightning. His voice was low, with a charming edge to it, “Now, while I’d love to stay here and chat about the information I require, we have very little time. Come quietly with me, now.”

“G-get back,” the older girl, with a long braided brown pony tail and long pointed ears stammered, reaching for a pendant around her neck. It began to flow and lime green, light escaping the cracks in her grasp as suddenly a vine sprouted out of the ground to try and strike at the man.

Sighing, the man seemed to swing his sword nonchalantly, only making a shallow cut in the attacking plant. Lightning poured into the cut, frying it almost in an instant. The younger girl, in a white dress and blonde hair, began to cry, “S-sister Annabelle… I’m scared…”

The older girl turned to the younger girl and tried to put on a brave face, “It’s okay, Sister Barbara. It’ll be okay.”

Xandrin’s grip tightened, watching the man laugh at the girl’s obvious fear. He turned to Hector and whispered, “We have to do something.”

“What do you suggest, sir?” Hector nodded, looking worried but ready to assist.

“Can you get the girls out of here while I distract this guy?”

Hector looked shocked, “S-sir, I can’t-“

“It's obvious the knights will be here soon, as this guy is in a rush. I only need to hold him off for a little bit… please, Hector. I might not have a Vision, or be a hero. But I gotta do something.”

The loyal butler looked into Xandrin’s eyes, seeing the unwavering determination. Sighing, Hector nodded. A smile appeared across Xandrin’s face as he began to sneak around. The girls, on the other hand, had finished backing up and now were against the statue of Barbatos. The man continued to advance, a slow and menacing chuckle escaping his lips, “Do we really need to do this the hard way? All I want to know is the secrets the Church has been hiding.”

Just as the man was about to reach out and grab Annabelle, the man cried out in pain as he was knocked to the side. Standing just behind the man was Xandrin, holding the Favonius Claymore. The girls stared in astonishment at this young man, having swung the blade with ease. Hector immediately came over, “Excuse me ladies, but I believe this is our cue to get out of here.”

The girls nodded, Barbara whispering a thank you as Hector began leading them away. As they went away, Xandrin rested the greatsword on his shoulder. Hector got one last look as Xandrin said, “Like I said, Hector. Fiora made sure I could hold my own.”

With them rushing down the path to Mondstadt, Xandrin took a deep breath and turned to face the man who was standing back up. The man glared at Xandrin, “Just… who the hell do you think you are?!”

Xandrin placed a hand on his chest, “Me? I’m just an author passing through, don’t worry about me. What’s your name, Mr. Creep?”

The man spat, wiping a small amount of dirt from the corner of his mouth. Xandrin then noticed on the man’s left shoulder there was a purple gem with the symbol of Electro fashioned into the armor piece. This man had a Vision?

“Realizing you’re in over your head, punk?” The man sneered, flourishing the black blade in his hand again as sparks danced along the menacing edge.

Despite his heart racing, Xandrin kept a calm expression as he said, “I’ve seen people without Visions do a lot more damage than you, Mr. Creep.”

Scowling, the man dashed forward, leaving a wave of purple sparks in his wake. Xandrin barely had enough time to take the large blade on his shoulder and block the attack, making him slide back a couple of inches. The man looked at Xandrin, a smug expression across his scarred features as he came for another attack. The young author was faster this time, meeting the dark sword with his own.

Frowning, the man concentrated. The Vision began to light up in a bright violet light, he brought his blade back and came down hard with electricity beginning to arc along the edge. Xandrin moved to defend, but once the blades connected, the high voltage traveled through his blade and up his arms. Crying out, Xandrin loosened the grip and the man easily disarmed the young writer.

The blade flew high up in the air, landing far away from Xandrin. Seeing his hands now empty, Xandrin looked at the man and sheepishly grinned, “W-well, guess that happened…”

Without another word, the armored man raised a fist and slammed the back of it against Xandrin’s cheek, sending him flying. Crashing on the stone steps leading up to the Shrine of Barbatos, Xandrin groaned. He coughed up a small amount of blood, holding his side, “D-dammit…”

Sighing in frustration, the man stalked up to Xandrin, “Well… if I can’t get what I was looking for… I might as well get some target practice in…”

Outstretching a gloved hand, the Vision once again lit up as bolts of indigo lightning descended on Xandrin. The young man cried out, his nerves on fire and his clothes smoking from the impact. Releasing the bolts, the man spoke with a smug grin, “What the matter, punk? No more quips?”

Coughing and sputtering, Xandrin looked up to the man with a weak grin, “C-c’mon… I’ve seen tiny Electro Slimes give more voltage than your weak little stings…”

Growling, the man shot out his hand again. The torrent of lightning fell on Xandrin once again, pushing him back up against the statue hard as he screamed in pain. Gritting his teeth, the tears that would’ve flowed from Xandrin’s eyes were being instantly evaporated by the extreme heat as he looked up at the statue of Barbatos.

Please… help...

“Once I’m done with you, I’m gonna find those girls and I will find what I am looking for, brat,” the man shouted, increasing the lightning. “And once I have what I want… I might just need to have some more target practice with those girls and that old man…”

Xandrin’s eyes widened, the thought of those terrified girls… Hector… the lightning that scorched him now falling on them. No. His fists tightened, his gaze turning down to meet the man. No. He placed his hands on the statue behind him, trying to push himself up. No. The statue began to glow, the orb held by the immaculately carved Barbatos beginning to shine a seafoam green as the man looked shocked at this sudden change. NO. The wind began to swirl around the man and Xandrin, rapidly picking up pace as the glow of the orb from the statue began to flow down the stone structure and into Xandrin’s hands.

“NO!”

A massive gust of air launched out from Xandrin’s outstretched palm, slamming into the man as he went flying backward. The wind whipping around the statue and Xandrin sped up faster and faster, the soft green glow flowing through Xandrin’s body as he glared at the evil man who stared in astonishment.

“I won’t let you touch them!” Xandrin shouted, reaching out his right hand. The gilded greatsword flew from its resting spot, guided by the wind as it landed in Xandrin’s grasp perfectly.

“Th-the hell?!” The man shot up on his feet.

Xandrin looked about himself, unsure of what was going on himself. This felt… familiar somehow. But, how could he use this?

“Relax, Xandrin.”

The writer paused, hearing the words almost as if they were in his mind. He was about to speak when the friendly voice spoke again, “Breathe, Xandrin. Listen to the winds, hear their stories… hear how they wish for you to use them.”

Nodding to himself, Xandrin closed his eyes. Images flowed by him. A radiant lady knight, striking foes with thrusts of concentrated air, a young man with a mask launching himself high in the air to come crashing down, a blonde haired individual reaching out their palm to create a ball-like tornado in their hand…

“This is my power, the power of Anemo. Let it guide you, Xandrin Scribhneoir. Let the winds in your heart, the kind breeze the exudes from your soul, be the sword that defends the freedom of others.”

Eyes snapping open, Xandrin grasped the hilt of the claymore in both hands and brought it to his side, the winds whipping up and around the blade. The man, seeing Xandrin preparing himself, growled and ran his hand down the side of the blade, it glowing bright purple with lightning. He then charged forward, letting loose a battle cry, “Time to die, brat!”

“And here… is the finale!” Xandrin shouted as he stomped his foot down, using his entire body weight to swing the blade horizontally. The weaponized air became razor sharp, creating a green swathe of Anemo energy that barreled towards the man. Seeing this attack coming at him, the man raised his sword to catch the attack, but found it overwhelming as it overtook him.

The strike of wind took up the man, shredding his armor like paper as it threw him backwards. He crashed into the ground, creating a small crater in the side of a hill as he lost grip of his blade and fell limp and unconscious. The wind began to die down, Xandrin’s arms dropping to his sides as he fell to his knees. In the distance, he could see several armored Knights of Favonius rushing towards them. A small chuckle escaped the wounded Xandrin’s lips as he dropped the sword and fell to the ground himself.

As the Favonius Knights made it to the base of the tree, one singular knight who towered above the others walked over to the young Scribhneoir, his gentle gaze noticing a soft green glow coming from his chest. The knight turned Xandrin over, and his eyes widened. On the young man’s chest, attached to the strap of his satchel, sat a green glass orb with the symbol of Anemo etched in it.

“For your bravery, and your desire of inspiring the freedom to become a hero… I grant you, Xandrin Scribhneoir, the Vision of Anemo… may it lead you to the answers you will seek…”

#genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin barbara #genshin barbatos #genshin original character #originl character

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