Genshin Impact: Villain Impact

To achieve his goals, Eberhart was willing to sacrifice everything.

Whether it was killing his mentor, driving away his beloved brother, learning a dishonorable skill like spear-fighting… or even killing his own father.

After dozens of exchanges, Ingobert had been forced into a defensive retreat by Lucas. The earlier battle had already exhausted much of Ingobert's stamina, and now, under the relentless barrage of spear strikes, he was clearly struggling. 

Yet Ingobert showed no fear or hesitation. Instead, he seemed excited. "Come on, defeat me, and the position of the head of the Lawrence family will be yours!"

Strangely, though Lucas could see Ingobert's fatigue in his movements, his mystic eye did not reveal any death lines on Ingobert's body.

Could it be that he was not afraid of death?

With a sudden "clang," shards of ice formed along Ingobert's sword and shot toward Lucas. He barely dodged the attack, but two of the ice shards grazed his shoulder.

The blood froze instantly due to the cold, yet strangely, Lucas felt not a chill but a faint warmth from the wound.

"Sorry, I got a little too excited and accidentally used the power of my Vision," Ingobert chuckled softly. "After all, this is just a spar between father and son, not a battle to the death."

"No…"

Suddenly, flames erupted from Lucas's body. "This battle will decide both victory and life!"

Typically, when Lucas entered immersion mode, he would emotionally align with the character he was playing.

It was like how intense gameplay could stir excitement, or how a touching movie could bring tears. 

But while channeling Eberhart's emotions, Lucas realized something surprising: he didn't feel any deep hatred for his father, Ingobert.

His desire to become the head of the Lawrence family wasn't about revenge or wealth. It was… about seeking recognition.

More than a decade of meticulous planning, advancing step by step.

All for this moment.

Do you see it now, Father? The illegitimate son you've always looked down on is about to replace you!

The flames surrounding Lucas's body finally elicited a look of surprise from Ingobert.

But soon, that surprise turned into excitement.

"So, you too are chosen by the gods!" Ingobert recognized the elemental power surging from Lucas and nodded approvingly. "Well done, Eberhart! Truly excellent!"

On one side was the icy symbol of noble authority. On the other, the rebellious flames of resistance. The clash between them erupted into a battle of equals.

They had never had a normal father-son conversation, but this fight seemed to serve as a long-overdue exchange between them.

"Hey, is this the spear technique you worked so hard to learn? It's too weak!"

"Then how about this move, old man!"

"That spear tip is so thin—can it even hurt anyone?"

"Turn your back on me, and I'll use it to stab right through your old ass!"

"Hahaha… such vulgar language!"

"Well, I am a lowly bastard child, after all!"

…

Before he knew it, a smile crept across Lucas's face. 

It wasn't the smile of revenge or triumph in claiming the Lawrence family's leadership. Rather, it was a smile of relief.

However, in that moment, Lucas's pupils suddenly dilated. He saw the death line appear on Ingobert's body!

His spear, sharp as a needle, seemed drawn toward that rift, as if by an invisible force, and instinctively, he thrust it toward the target.

By the time Lucas realized what had happened, the needle-sharp tip of his spear had already pierced Ingobert's chest, lifting his body high into the air.

"Anyone struck on the death line will not survive. Be very careful before making your move."

These were the words the Spear Witch had once said to Lucas. The "Mystic Eyes of Death Perception" was a cursed ability—once it locked onto death, there was no turning back.

Blood flowed down the spear, bringing warmth to Lucas's nearly frozen fingers.

"Eberhart…" Ingobert gasped his final words. "It doesn't mean bastard child…"

Lucas already knew this. As part of his efforts to expand his knowledge, Eberhart had never stopped studying, and ancient Mondstadt language was part of that.

Though "Eberhart" was often used as a mocking term for "illegitimate child," its original meaning was "unexpected gift."

Looking at Ingobert's lifeless body, Lucas didn't feel much joy. Instead, a faint emptiness settled in.

Ingobert had always been an immovable mountain in Eberhart's life. Now, the mountain had crumbled into dust.

After years of planning, the goal had been achieved. But what next?

Become the head of the Lawrence family and live like the other foolish nobles, draining the lifeblood of commoners while indulging in a life of luxury… is that really what I want?

Yes, it is.

A slight smirk appeared at the corner of Lucas's—or rather, Eberhart's—mouth.

Why overthink it?

The deed was done. There was no need for second thoughts. Regret… was the indulgence of the weak.

Besides, there was still much to do to become the head of the Lawrence family. Now wasn't the time for sentimentality.

"Master… Master Ingobert!"

At that moment, a startled voice snapped Lucas out of his reverie. It was Luther, who had returned after searching for a way out. He stared at the scene in shock. "What… what have you done?"

"As you can see," Lucas said calmly, "I killed him."

"Why… why did you do this?" Luther still couldn't grasp the situation.

"Isn't it obvious? To become the next head of the Lawrence family," Lucas sneered. "Do you plan to avenge your former master, or will you serve your new one?"

"I…" Luther immediately fell to his knees. "I will serve the rightful head of the Lawrence family!"

"Smart choice," Lucas nodded. "I remember your new wife is quite beautiful. With a wife that lovely, I wouldn't want to die either."

"Are you… talking about Priscilla?" Luther fawned. "Yes, she's very beautiful. In fact, she's still untouched. If Master Eberhart—no, Lord Eberhart desires, I can arrange for her to serve you for a night, or even longer!"

Lucas's suspicion had been correct. To Luther, Priscilla was nothing more than a trophy, even a bargaining chip.

"No need to be so courteous," Lucas whispered in Luther's ear. "I've already sampled her. On your wedding night, no less."

"What?"

Before Luther could react, a searing pain shot through his back, piercing through to his abdomen.

Lucas had already driven his sword down through Luther's back.

"You were a good dog," Lucas said, wiping his hands. "But sadly, dogs don't speak. And you do."

For this plan to succeed perfectly, the most important thing was leaving no witnesses. Even Priscilla's role in lighting the signal fire was to ensure that no survivors returned to Mondstadt to expose him.

Dragging his injured body, Lucas walked slowly to a wall, pressing a hidden lever. With a rumble, a secret door opened.

He knew that everything that happened here would be buried by the snow.

As the door closed behind him, Lucas glanced at the stiffening corpses one last time, muttering to himself:

"Goodbye, my dear, hated father."

[Successfully entered text mode]

[Although you succeeded in killing your father, you yourself were gravely injured in the fight. The wounds, especially the ones from the ice blades, throbbed with a searing pain… indeed, Ingobert's ice element had the power to burn like fire.]

[Most of your supplies were left behind in the sealed chamber, and you no longer had the strength to carry them. However, you had already made meticulous plans, placing supply caches along your escape route. Now, you could only hope that the food and water hadn't been dug up by passing boars.]

[Your luck held. Out of the twenty supply caches you had placed, thirteen remained intact. Despite nearly collapsing from exhaustion several times during your escape, it was as though an invisible force carried your body through the devouring wilderness of the snow mountain.]

[After leaving the mountain, you didn't return to Mondstadt immediately. Instead, you waited at a location outside the city. One day passed, then five, then ten—Priscilla never lit the signal fire, meaning that no possible survivors had made it back to the city to expose you.]

[Finally, with your wounds partially healed, you returned to the Lawrence family estate. Ironically, when you arrived, your family was holding a funeral. Even more ironically, it was a funeral for Ingobert—but only his portrait was being honored… you weren't even considered worthy of being commemorated.]

[Nevertheless, your return stirred a great deal of excitement. Before the family elders, you put on an impressive performance, weaving a lie about what had happened in the snow mountains—]

[On your journey, many members of the group had perished in various disasters. After finally finding the treasure, the remaining mercenaries turned on you, wanting to kill you and take the treasure for themselves. Despite your best efforts, the family head, Ingobert, and the servant, Luther, died with the attackers. You were the sole survivor, barely escaping with your life.]

[The death of the family head was a serious matter, but even more important was that the Lawrence family could not be without a leader. Although the next head should have been your elder brother, Parsifal, everyone knew that he had fled in disgrace and could not possibly inherit the family's legacy.]

[You had already won over certain factions within the family. They stood up now, arguing that you, as the only surviving bloodline of the former family head, should inherit the position. Others opposed, stating that you, a mere illegitimate child without the Lawrence name, had no right to claim the title.]

[As the family debated fiercely, a woman timidly entered the room, informing everyone that her husband, Luther, had told her before leaving that Ingobert had planned to officially grant Eberhart the Lawrence name after the snow mountain expedition. She suggested that evidence of this could be found in Ingobert's room.]

[That woman was none other than Priscilla, dressed in mourning attire, her face filled with grief. Naturally, no one doubted her words.]

[You all entered Ingobert's room, and after some searching, found a handwritten letter beneath a book. The contents were simple: "At the conclusion of this snow mountain expedition, I will officially grant my second son, Eberhart, the family name of Lawrence, thereby confirming his status as the legitimate heir. Should I meet an untimely end, this decision shall remain in effect. Anyone who covets the family head position and disrupts the rightful bloodline shall be executed without mercy."]

[The handwriting and seal were undoubtedly Ingobert's. Although many still had reservations about you becoming the family head, the letter forced them into silence.]

[A nation cannot go without a king, and a family cannot go without a leader. After Ingobert's funeral, you were formally named the head of the Lawrence family and took control of the Crest of Frost.]

[At last, you had achieved your goal. From a premature child born in a stable, you had risen to become the leader of the most powerful noble family in Mondstadt. Yet, oddly enough, you didn't feel the excitement you should have.]

[Those who once looked down on you, those who mocked you, now bowed at your feet. But there was no one left with whom you could share this triumph—your mother, your mentor, your brother… even your father had become stepping stones on your path to success.]

[A month later, you announced that, in honor of Luther, the loyal servant who had died protecting the family head during the snow mountain rebellion, you would marry his widow, Priscilla.]

Seeing this sentence, Lucas couldn't help but laugh.

Cao Cao's famous line, "I'll take care of your wife and child, don't worry," had taken on a new meaning in his case.

[The head of the Lawrence family marrying a commoner, and a widow at that, naturally met with strong opposition. But you stood firm, and the wedding was held with great fanfare.]

[The wedding was like a slap in the face to the nobles who had opposed you. Of course, this was merely one of the many "outrageous" acts you would commit after becoming the head of the Lawrence family.]

"Enter immersive mode," Lucas muttered as a thought occurred to him.

[Ah, because it's your wedding night, right?]

"No," Lucas replied calmly, "I just want to confirm something."

[Successfully entered immersive mode]

Once again, you found yourself with Priscilla, just like the last time, in a wedding chamber.

However, this time, it wasn't someone else's wedding night—it was yours.

Truth be told, Lucas didn't have deep feelings for Priscilla. At most, he felt a certain fondness. The primary reason he married her was simply to fulfill a promise he had made.

After all, noble marriages were usually just for show. Most noble couples led separate lives after marriage, which was common knowledge.

Unlike the last wedding, though, Priscilla's smile now was genuine as she sat on the bed.

"What's wrong?" Priscilla asked, noticing her husband's odd expression. "Is something on your mind?"

"Priscilla, there's something I've always wanted to ask you," Lucas hesitated for a moment before speaking. "That letter we found in Ingobert's room… did you forge it?"

Back in the snow mountain, Ingobert had told Eberhart that he had decided to make him the heir. However, Lucas had assumed at the time that his father had said it merely to save his own life.

That's why he was asking now. He desperately hoped the letter had been forged.

Otherwise, everything he had done would have been meaningless.

"How could that be?" Priscilla shook her head and smiled. "Do you think a poor commoner like me would even know how to read or write, let alone forge Ingobert's handwriting? …Hey, why are you…"

"It's nothing," Lucas said as he wiped away a tear from his eye and smiled. "I'm just… really happy."

"Really?" Priscilla blushed. "To be honest, I never thought you'd actually marry me, but I couldn't help but believe in you."

"Of course, I'd marry you," Lucas said as he picked her up. "After all, the Lawrence bloodline needs to continue."

Priscilla's face glowed with happiness.

Seeing her smile brought Lucas a deep sense of comfort.

He had deceived his brother, killed his mentor, murdered his father, and slaughtered countless people in the snow mountain. The Eberhart he had become was, without a doubt, a true villain.

But now, Eberhart's "revenge" was over, and the life of the head of the Lawrence family had only just begun.

[Re-entering text mode]

----

[Age 23: Although you've assumed the position of the head of the Lawrence family, it isn't entirely secure. After all, you're still too young. Yet, with your swift and decisive actions, you silenced rumors and removed all obstacles.]

[As for Mondstadt's current state, you have no intention of changing anything. Like the previous Lawrence heads, you are cunning and greedy. You thrive in the aristocratic circle, navigating it with grace, enjoying a life of luxury and comfort.]

Reading these words, Lucas couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy.

It's worth noting that in the simulator, you don't have the memories of your true self, so naturally, Eberhart is unaware that Mondstadt's decaying aristocratic class is like a candle flickering in the wind.

In the near future, Vennessa, the "Lionfang Knight," will lead a revolution to overthrow Mondstadt's rule, with the Lawrence family being the first to fall.

However, the plot in the simulator doesn't exactly mirror reality, and how things will unfold remains uncertain.

[Age 24: Of course, you're not a brainless leader. You often conceal your identity, mingling among the common folk of Mondstadt to understand their living conditions and... their attitudes toward the nobility.]

[You don't expect the commoners to love or respect the aristocracy, but at the very least, you cannot allow the spark of rebellion to ignite. Interestingly, despite being hidden for years, you can still hear tales from bards about the Phantom Thief.]

[Some say he was secretly executed by the aristocracy; others insist he escaped Mondstadt long ago. There are even rumors that his true identity is a certain bored noble. ]

[Whenever you hear these tales, you reward the bard with a few Mora, as if these far-fetched stories remind you of your brother. Over the years, you've sent spies to track him down, but to no avail. Perhaps he has fled to the ends of the earth, or maybe he's already dead in some forgotten place.]

[He no longer poses a threat to you, and your position as head of the Lawrence family is secure. But you know that if you ever find a clue to his whereabouts, you will ruthlessly eliminate him. You can't allow any unforeseen threats to arise.]

[Age 25: Your wife, Priscilla, is finally pregnant with your first child. This is, naturally, a cause for great celebration. Watching her belly swell, you feel the joy and excitement of becoming a father.]

[Like your mother, Priscilla is a commoner. But you've made up your mind—you will never be a father like Ingobert.]

[Perhaps in your happiness, on one particular day, you did something out of the ordinary. Disguised as a commoner, you visited your favorite tavern and, for once, treated all the patrons to a drink.]

[The tavern was instantly filled with joy. A young bard even offered to sing a song for free, to which you gladly agreed. But the lyrics of his song sent a chill down your spine.]

["The traitor who killed his brother and father returns home, seated proudly upon the throne. But fate has already begun to stir: His wife will die in childbirth, his throne will be overthrown by a red-haired warrior, and he will meet the same fate as his father..."]

[You interrupted the bard, grabbing him by the collar and demanding to know why he was cursing you. But he simply shook his head and said, "These are the fates written in the stars. None of us can change them."]

[You tried to catch him for further questioning, but he vanished like the wind. Yet the three prophecies in his song remained deeply etched in your mind. You consoled yourself, thinking it was just a cruel joke or a drunken hallucination.]

[Age 26: Unfortunately, your worst fears came true. Even though you had already summoned the best doctors in all of Mondstadt, your wife died of excessive bleeding after giving birth to a son. As she lay dying, she held your hand and gave her final words: "Take care of our child."]

[Her death left you devastated, but it also filled you with dread. Since the first prophecy had come true, could the next two also unfold in time?]

[No, you've fought against fate since birth, and you won't be defeated so easily by some supposed destiny. Now that you know of the prophecies, you'll break them, no matter what.]

[The second prophecy foretells that you will be overthrown by a red-haired warrior. So, you decide to implement sweeping reforms to ensure that all of Mondstadt is under your control, so no one would dare rise against you.]

[Of course, that's not enough. You also issue an order to register and investigate every red-haired person in Mondstadt.]

[The third prophecy leaves you somewhat hesitant, because only you know your father's fate—he was killed by his own son.]

[As you look at your infant son, your feelings are conflicted. Could it be true? Will you really die by his hand, just as the prophecy says?]

[You shake off the thought. After all, you promised Priscilla you would take care of him. First, you decide to give him a name...]

[1. Kratos]

[2. Arthas]

[3. Tyrion]

Looking at these names, Lucas fell into silence.

"Good grief, these choices are just screaming bad luck!"

The god of war who killed his father Zeus.

The foolish prince who slew his father with a sword of filial piety.

And the little imp who shot his father dead in a toilet with a crossbow.

No matter which one you pick, it seems like a dangerous choice!

"Are you messing with me, system?" Lucas muttered helplessly. "Is there really no other option besides these three?"

[You can also choose a random name, but if it's weird, the system holds no responsibility.]

"Random! Random!" Lucas quickly replied.

Even if it turned out to be something like "Nutmeg" or "Cornstarch" it would still be better than these three!

[You chose a random name: Kreuzlied.]

Kreuzlied?

Lucas found the name vaguely familiar, as if he had heard it somewhere before, but couldn't quite recall.

After all, he wasn't the type of gamer who obsessively studied every detail. It wasn't possible to remember everything perfectly.

[You named your son "Kreuzlied Lawrence," and you've resolved to raise him as an excellent heir.]

[Age 27: To prevent the aristocratic class, represented by the Lawrence family, from being overthrown, you began a series of reforms to reduce tensions between nobles and commoners.]

[These reforms inevitably affected the interests and power of the nobility, but as the head of the Lawrence family, you firmly implemented your decisions.]

[However, even as the aristocracy compromised, there were two things they refused to yield on. First, the gladiatorial arena must remain open, and slavery must not be abolished. Second, the tradition of the WindBlume Festival sacrifices must be upheld.]

[The reason was simple—both practices symbolize the "privileges" of Mondstadt's nobility. The aristocrats were willing to make small concessions, but they demanded their high status remain untouchable.]

[You understood that reform wasn't something that could be accomplished overnight, and you couldn't afford to openly clash with the noble class. So, you preserved the institution of slavery and the traditions of the WindBlume Festival.]

[Naturally, you no longer took part in the WindBlume Festival to receive the "sacrificial feather" In the past, you accepted the feathers largely to gain the power from the "First Cup of Red Wine," but now, you no longer needed that strength.]

[Age 28: Your son Kreuzlied is in excellent health.]

[Age 29: Kreuzliede shows a natural talent and interest in music and swordsmanship, which delights you.]

[Age 30: After years of eliminating rivals, the Lawrence family's position in Mondstadt is more secure than ever. Although you're only the head of the Lawrence family, many secretly believe you're the true "king" of Mondstadt.]

[Of course, you're not foolish enough to declare yourself king. Mondstadt's last "king" was branded a tyrant and overthrown by his people.]

[Age 31: Thanks to your continued reforms, Mondstadt's national strength is increasing, and the standard of living for its citizens is gradually improving.]

[Age 32: Despite granting more power to the commoners, they still aren't satisfied, especially when it comes to the issues of slavery and the WindBlume Festival traditions.]

[Age 33: Extremist groups formed among the populace, organizing into resistance movements. They even kidnapped your son Kreuzlied as a bargaining chip.]

[Your son is your greatest weakness. You went alone to negotiate with the rebels. They didn't think much of a noble coming to them alone, and some even saw it as an opportunity to kill you, the "scourge" of Mondstadt.]

[However, underestimating you was their fatal mistake. Grabbing a nearby stick, you quickly sharpened one end. Despite not having fought in years, your skills hadn't dulled at all.]

[And the rebels' resolve wasn't as strong as you thought. Through your mystic eyes, you could clearly see the "death lines" on their bodies.]

[In front of your son, you killed every rebel with a single blow, the sharpened stick becoming a reaper's scythe, mercilessly harvesting their fragile lives.]

[Although Kreuzlied was rescued, he seemed deeply traumatized. To avoid such an incident from happening again, and to prevent the prophecy from coming true, you disguised your son's identity and sent him to study in Sumeru. You planned to bring him back once Mondstadt was fully secured.]

[Age 34: The kidnapping left a lasting impact. You began to rule with an iron fist, hunting down anyone who opposed you. This included intense interrogations and torture, especially targeting red-haired individuals, whom you gave special "attention."]

[Age 35: The dragon Ursa, which once attacked Mondstadt, returned. Despite the soldiers' best efforts, they barely managed to repel it, but not before the dragon caused immense destruction, killing hundreds.]

[Age 36: Ursa's attacks became more frequent, and to protect Mondstadt, you began training the army to prepare for an all-out campaign against the dragon.]

[Age 37: The heavy military expenses forced you to raise taxes. While this was a minor inconvenience for the nobility, it became a significant burden on the commoners.]

[Age 38: You personally led the army to battle Ursa, but to your despair, the troops you trained with so much effort crumbled before the dragon's might. Even your spear skills were useless against the massive beast.]

[The campaign ended in disaster, with fewer than one-tenth of the troops returning. The citizens' outcry against you surged like a flood.]

[Age 39: You found yourself lost in thought. Everything you had done—wasn't it to protect this city and its people? Both the nobles and the commoners. You nearly died leading the army yourself, so why were you met with such condemnation?]

[Have I truly made a mistake?]

[No! The only mistake, the sole error, was my own weakness. If I were strong enough, if I could defeat the dragon Ursa, none of this would have happened. That's right, power! I need more power!]

[But how can I quickly obtain such immense power?]

[Suddenly, you glance at the portrait of your deceased wife, Priscilla, hanging on the wall. Memories flood back to your first encounter and… the first sip of "The First Cup of Red Wine" you drank from her, which granted you a power that felt like a divine gift.]

[Yes, this is the only way to increase your strength in a short time. You must destroy the dragon Ursa to protect this city, even if this method will make you a target of scorn, or even forever reviled.]

[A few days later, you announce a new law—the "First Cup of Wine Act." According to the law, all pure maidens in Mondstadt must spend the night before their wedding atop the city's high tower, offering the first cup of wine to Barbatos, the Anemo Archon.]

[This, of course, is a thinly veiled excuse. The high tower is owned by the Lawrence family, and for years, the "sacrifices" for the WindBlume Festival have been forced to endure a grim ritual there.]

[Everyone understands what this so-called "First Cup of Wine Act" truly means. This outrageous law appalls not only commoners but even some nobles, who find it disgraceful.]

[However, with you now holding absolute power in Mondstadt, no one can challenge your decision. Some think you've lost your mind in your battle with the dragon Ursa, while others believe you've simply given up, embracing a hedonistic life before the end.]

[Still, there are those who scoff at the law and proceed with lavish weddings, only to realize it's no joke when soldiers break into their homes and forcibly take the newlywed brides away.]

[To minimize unrest, you came up with a small compromise.]

[Mondstadt's population is quite large, and many couples marry daily. Every night, the brides are sent to the high tower. You order their eyes to be blindfolded and select only one each night. This way, no one knows who the "chosen one" is, except the victim herself.]

[One per night—this is far from your limit, but balance is key. Overdoing it could lead to unforeseen consequences.]

[Although one bride is forced to undergo the ritual every night, as long as her family remains silent, there's no public shame. Additionally, the chosen bride receives a hefty "compensation" upon her departure.]

[The lights of the high tower burn through the night. Those with sharp eyes might even glimpse a shadowy figure—each day's sacrifice performing the first cup of wine ritual.]

[As expected, your power grows at an astonishing rate.]

[Age 39: After a year of accumulation, you've grown significantly stronger. You realize, however, that brides with the fire element are the rarest, and enhancing your fire elemental abilities would greatly boost your strength.]

[Nevertheless, you've become increasingly reclusive, and only letters from your son occasionally bring a smile to your face.]

[Age 40: The dragon Ursa attacks Mondstadt once again. This time, you stand atop the high tower and strike the overconfident dragon with searing flames, forcing it to retreat in fear.]

[Below the tower, countless Mondstadt citizens bow their heads. You believe they are showing respect, but little do you know—they are merely too terrified to look up.]

[Although you didn't kill the dragon, this battle proves that your decision was the right one. As long as you continue to strengthen yourself, you will surely be able to eliminate this threat once and for all.]

[In rare good spirits, you don a simple linen garment you haven't worn in years and, once again, disguise yourself as a commoner to wander the city.]

[Returning to the familiar tavern, you find that the once joyful atmosphere is gone. The place is now filled with gloom. Only then do you recall that, to maintain your rule, you planted numerous spies among the commoners. Anyone caught speaking ill of you is immediately arrested.]

[Amidst the gloom, you spot a flash of bright red. A red-haired woman sits at the bar, drinking beer in large gulps, with a square object strapped to her back.]

[You suddenly remember the prophecy—that a red-haired warrior would overthrow your rule. Feigning nonchalance, you strike up a conversation with her. To your surprise, she is quite free-spirited, and the two of you get along well.]

[For some reason, you feel an inexplicable sense of closeness to this red-haired woman, someone you've never met before. It's the most fun you've had since sending your son away.]

[She tells you that she isn't from Mondstadt. She grew up in Liyue with her mother, who gave birth to her out of wedlock and never spoke about her father.]

[Recently, her mother passed away, and in her belongings, the woman found a portrait of a man. She suspects this man might be her father, so she returned to her mother's homeland in search of clues.]

[Your heart skips a beat, and you can't help but recall the red-haired girl from the WindBlume Festival twenty years ago. Could it really be possible that this world holds such strange coincidences? You ask to see the portrait, and to your surprise, she agrees.]

[The fine canvas and paint haven't faded with time. The young man in the portrait, his smile restrained, is none other than your 18-year-old self.]

[Instinctively, you fear being recognized. But when you glance at your reflection in a distant mirror, you realize your face has long since changed from those youthful days. The red-haired woman doesn't seem to suspect that you're the man she's looking for.]

[Casually, you ask, "What will you do if you find this man?"]

[The red-haired woman laughs, clenching her fist and saying, "If I really find him, I'll definitely give him a good beating. But I probably won't hit his face, since he's pretty handsome. Although I hate the guy, I have to admit that I inherited some of his good looks... well, maybe a third at most."]

[She isn't boasting. The woman has indeed inherited her mother's beauty, along with that striking red hair.]

[Facing the woman who is most likely your daughter, you decide...]

[1. To reveal the truth]

[2. To keep it hidden]

After a brief hesitation, Lucas still chose the second option.

Even if you were to acknowledge her, what would be the point?

Would you really tell her that her birth was the result of a forced encounter twenty-two years ago?

And that her biological father spends his days atop the high tower, engaged in disgraceful deeds?

Now, he finally understood how Ingobert must have felt when he learned of Eberhart, his illegitimate son.

Would revealing the truth bring her happiness?

[In the end, you couldn't muster the courage to acknowledge her. Instead, you wished her luck in finding the man she was looking for. Before leaving, you discreetly slipped a few gems into her pocket.]

[Age 41: According to your spies, a strange troupe has recently appeared in Mondstadt. They seem to wander the world, and after arriving in Mondstadt, they've been singing songs with a rebellious tone.]

---

[However, you didn't pay them any mind. You have always been pursuing the power to eliminate the dragon Ursa. How could a mere band shake you?]

[The only thing that bothers you is that your son, Kreuzlied, hasn't written back for a long time. He's been away from home for a long time. By now, he must have grown into a fine young man, right?]

[Age 42: The Windblume Festival is held as usual this year, but the people seem numb. After all, in the past, only one sacrifice was chosen annually, but now, one is chosen every day.]

[The festivities are no different from previous years. You sit in the VIP seat, utterly bored, watching this year's performance.]

[You glance at the sacrifice on the high platform. She is a beautiful, ethereal girl. Despite having tasted countless fine wines since the First Cup of Red Wine Act was implemented, this one still makes your eyes light up.]

[Of course, you're not the only one who noticed. The young men of the Lawrence family have already gathered beneath the platform, their eyes hungry like wolves, awaiting the feather-throwing ceremony after the performance. Who knows which lucky scoundrel will get this beauty tonight?]

[The final performance is by a band with interesting instruments—a longsword as a flute, a shortbow as a violin, and a greatsword as a bell. The conductor, wearing a fancy hat, holds a music sheet and gives you a slight bow. They all wear intricate masks.]

[Naturally, this is tradition. Performers for the nobility must wear masks if they are unattractive to avoid offending the nobles' eyes.]

[Although you're not versed in music, their sound and singing are quite captivating, even lulling you into enjoyment. But just as you're immersed in the music, the violinist suddenly pulls out an arrow, using their instrument as a bow, and fires it directly at you.]

[It all happens too suddenly. Despite your formidable skills, you barely manage to dodge, but the arrow still grazes your cheek.]

[The band has already turned their instruments into weapons and launched an assault on you. Chaos erupts on the scene. It seems they were well-prepared—even the guards assigned to watch over the event have vanished without a trace.]

[The four of them are powerful, but they've underestimated your strength. Years of "accumulation" have made you terrifyingly strong. More than shock, what you feel is rage.]

[Why betray me? Don't you know that everything I've done was to protect you? I point my spear-blade at external enemies, but you aim your weapons at me!]

[Your fury fuels the fire element within you, making it even more violent. They seem to realize your strength. The first to show a weakness is the conductor. Even with the mask on, you can see the "death line" in her eyes. Without hesitation, you pierce her mask with a single shot, the needle-like spear-blade driving through the back of her skull.]

[The conductor's gruesome death leaves the other three members frozen in place. You, however, wear a menacing smile: "You should envy her because she didn't die in pain. The rest of you will pay for your betrayal!"]

[The flutist, wielding the flute-sword, rushes at you. The blade whistles through the air, producing a beautiful flute sound. But you catch her blade with one hand, the searing flames from your palm instantly melting the exquisite weapon into molten iron.]

["Your biggest mistake was making your weapons into toys," you sneer, delivering a punch to her abdomen, instantly knocking her out. "Your swordsmanship has potential. You could serve as a gladiator for others' entertainment."]

["Die, you tyrant who harms innocent girls!" The violinist fires a rapid volley of arrows at you, but the moment they get close, they vaporize in the heat of your fiery aura.]

[Your spear technique is known for its precision, capable of lifting the morning dew. Your spear strikes like a shadow, and when you finish, the delicate bow-violin has fallen to the ground. The violinist screams in agony; all ten of his fingers have been pierced by your needle-like spear tip. Ten fingers connected to the heart—he's in unbearable pain.]

["Now you won't be able to pluck either bowstrings or violin strings," you say coldly, turning your gaze to the last remaining opponent—a teenage boy wielding a massive bell-sword.]

[Despite his youth, he shows no fear, gripping his greatsword and charging at you. You don't hold back, slicing through his tendons with your spear-blade as if it were a serpent.]

[The greatsword crashes to the ground with a deep, resounding bell sound, followed by the boy's mask.]

[When you see his face, you freeze. Though it's been years since you last saw this face, you recognize it instantly.]

["Kreuzlied… my son… Why is it you?" You can't believe that your most cherished son would join a rebellion against you.]

["Because you've gone mad!" Kreuzlied says, his expression complicated. "I know all the atrocities you've committed. I'm here to overthrow you and the corrupt nobles like you!"]

[The prophecy from over a decade ago replays in your mind. Your son, it seems, truly does want to kill you. But this prophecy has already been broken—you did not die by your son's hand like your father did.]

[Fate has been shattered!]

[You raise your spear, pointing it at Kreuzlied, and coldly say, "My son, if you swear never to associate with these rebels again and obediently become a noble, I can pretend today never happened."]

[However, Kreuzlied resolutely replies, "Do you remember when I was kidnapped as a child? They never hurt me. Instead, they told me about your crimes. From that moment, the seed of rebellion took root in my heart. Meeting the band gave me the determination to return to Mondstadt and overthrow your tyranny. The thing I hate most in this life... is that the filthy blood of the nobility runs through my veins!"]

[His words are so ironic. The noble identity you've pursued all your life has become a burden to him. But you haven't completely given up on your son. He's only fifteen, still too young. Perhaps, as he matures, he'll realize how naive his thinking is.]

[However, Kreuzlied's treason can no longer be hidden. You must give the other nobles an explanation. You have no choice but to strip him of his noble title and exile him.]

[In his stubborn gaze, you see a reflection of your brother. Perhaps this is karma for what you did years ago.]

[As a noble, Kreuzlied is spared from death, but the other two rebels—you're determined to give them the harshest punishment, so the people of Mondstadt will understand the price of defying you.]

[You order the conductor's body to be hung at the city gate, so all passersby can see the gruesome sight of her pierced skull.]

[As for the flutist, you throw her into the gladiatorial arena, where she will face countless battles daily until her inevitable death.]

[Regarding the violinist, after reviewing his background, you devise a most brutal punishment.]

[Forced entry into immersive mode commencing.]

[Task prompt: In this immersive mode, act like a villain and drive the violinist to mental collapse. Your rewards will be based on the level of his breakdown.]

Immersive mode task?

This seems to be the first time...

But what exactly does this task mean?

[Simply put, it's... psychological torment.]

"Got it."

Lucas immediately understood what the system meant.

If the conductor's punishment was death, and the flutist's was physical torment, then the violinist's punishment would be mental destruction.

Having spent so much time with the system, Lucas had already mastered the art of playing the villain.

Lucas found himself in a very familiar place…

The high tower where the "sacrifices" took place.

In the simulator, he had drunk countless cups of fine wine here.

In front of him is a young man bound by ropes. His face is handsome, perhaps even more so than Eberhart in his youth. But now, he looks disheveled, his once-beautiful fingers broken and horrifyingly mangled.

"Hello, young man," Lucas said with a smile, sitting before the violinist. "I didn't expect someone rebelling against me would be such a good-looking fellow. I bet many girls are infatuated with that face of yours, right?"

The violinist showed no expression. His parched lips moved slightly as he muttered, "Kill me."

"No? That would be too easy," Lucas shook his head. "Do you know? The people of this country misunderstand me. They're like Kreuzlied, rebellious children. But I will forgive them."

"Stop deceiving yourself," the violinist's beautiful eyes flashed with hatred. "You're nothing but a hedonistic tyrant."

"And how much do you really know about this country?" Lucas fiddled with the documents in his hand. "I investigated you. You're from Fontaine. Why travel so far to rebel against a foreign noble?"

"Wherever there is oppression, there will be resistance!" the violinist said defiantly,"Every year during the Windblume Festival, you force an innocent common girl to be sacrificed by the nobles. Isn't this atrocious act something that should be overthrown?" 

"Well said," Lucas sneered. "But the tradition of the Windblume Festival has been passed down for thousands of years. Why are you just now playing the hero?" 

"That... that's just a coincidence..." the violinist murmured, momentarily at a loss for words. 

"Really... just a coincidence?" Lucas clapped his hands gently and said, "Bring her in!" 

At his command, a beautiful girl was escorted into the room by two soldiers. She was none other than the "sacrifice" selected for this year's Windblume Festival. 

Their eyes met for a brief moment before quickly looking away, as if trying to conceal the connection between them. 

"There's no need to hide anymore," Lucas patted the girl on the head, smiling. "You're in love with this girl and didn't want her to become the sacrifice. That's why you planned this rebellion, isn't it?" 

Seeing that his motives had been exposed, the violinist finally sighed. He glared at Lucas and said, "So what if that's true? What we did was still an act of justice!" 

"Justice?" 

Lucas suddenly stood up, grabbing the violinist by the hair. The girl, seeing this, showed a pained expression. 

"You did all this just because you happened to love this girl. If today's sacrifice wasn't her, but some ugly old woman, would you still have acted?" 

Lucas's demeanor completely shifted from calm to hysterical: "Is this your so-called 'justice'? You attempted to assassinate me because of a fleeting emotion? Do you realize how many people will suffer because of this? Do you even understand that without me, there would be no one left to protect this city from the dragon Ursa's invasion?" 

His rapid-fire questions left the violinist, who moments earlier had been resolute, momentarily at a loss for words—perhaps even a bit afraid. 

"I'm sorry, I may have lost my temper," Lucas said, his face softening as quickly as it had hardened. Releasing the violinist's hair, he patted it gently and said warmly: 

"I hope I didn't scare you, young man. You see, I'm really not such a bad person. Everything can be negotiated. Your two companions—one's body is now hanging from the city gates, while the other has been thrown into the gladiator arena to fight until her death. But... I can give you a way out."

"Stop talking!" the violinist said resolutely. "They've all met a terrible fate. How could I live on in cowardice?"

"Don't you think it's unfair? The conductor is dead, and the sword dancer won't last more than three months," Lucas shook his head and said, "But my son Kreuzlied was merely exiled. In a few years, I might find an opportunity to pardon him. By then, he could return to his prestigious noble status. Meanwhile, the grass on your graves will likely be three feet tall."

Sure enough, the violinist hesitated. The initial reason they had planned this assassination was to save the girl he loved. As for rebelling against tyranny, that was merely a convenient excuse.

The wandering band had always acted as knights of justice, and with their impressive skills, they had never suffered a loss—perhaps they even thought this time would be no different.

But now, faced with the blood-soaked reality, the idealistic man from Fontaine finally realized the harshness of the real world.

At that moment, a shadow suddenly descended from outside the window. The violinist, quick to react, looked toward the window, only to immediately gag at the sight before him.

Hanging outside the window was the conductor's rotting corpse, maggots crawling in and out of her broken eye sockets. Her once elegant and beautiful face now resembled a decaying plant.

"Speak…" The violinist, his mental defenses completely shattered, frowned and said, "What is your deal?"

"It's simple. I can give you two choices," Lucas, seemingly having predicted the violinist's decision, raised one finger. "First, I'll torture you with the 72 methods of the Lawrence family, one each day, and on the last day, I'll release you from your suffering."

"W-What kind of torture?" Sweat dripped down the violinist's forehead.

"If I were to explain all of them, we wouldn't have enough time tonight," Lucas said casually, taking out a small, transparent object and placing it before the violinist. "Here's an example—the first one."

It was a transparent piece about the size of a fingernail. Of course, this description might be redundant because... it was a fingernail, complete and stained with blood.

"This belonged to your friend, the sword dancer," Lucas said nonchalantly. "After each victory in the gladiatorial arena, she gets one of her nails pulled out."

"Why?" The violinist's eyes widened in shock. "Didn't she win?"

"Yes, so only one nail was removed. If she had lost…" Lucas extended both hands and said, "They'd all be pulled out."

Seeing the violinist's expression twist in horror, Lucas waved a hand, smiling. "Just kidding. Gladiators who lose face only one outcome—death. The victor usually opens their chest and pulls out their heart. Have you ever seen a heart beating in someone's palm?"

"Stop... stop talking!" The violinist swallowed hard and asked, "W-What's the second option?"

"The second is much simpler," Lucas pointed to the girl who had been brought in and smiled. "Tonight, she'll complete the Windblume Festival ritual according to tradition, and afterward, you can leave with her. If you need it, I can even give you some money for the road."

"H-How can you..." the violinist mumbled, "This is too much! You're a monster! A demon!"

"I've already been quite lenient. After all, this was her fate," Lucas shrugged with a smile. "But if you're willing to sacrifice yourself, I can guarantee that she won't become a sacrifice. She's so beautiful—she'll surely find a good man and start a new family."

The violinist was at a loss for words, but the girl suddenly spoke, "I... I'm will—"

"Shut up!" Lucas's roar startled the girl into immediate silence. "I'm asking him. If you dare say another word, I'll cut out your tongue."

"Make your choice, little violinist," Lucas looked down at the violinist, his tone mocking. "Will you sacrifice yourself, or her?"

The violinist glanced at the corpse of his fallen friend hanging outside the window, then at the Mondstadt girl he adored. Forcing a smile, he said, "I... I won't abandon you. We'll run away together, far from here, to a place where no one knows us, okay?"

The girl didn't dare speak but was moved to tears, nodding repeatedly.

"How touching," Lucas clapped his hands, laughing. "Love is truly beautiful. Guards, bring in the equipment."

At his command, the two soldiers returned, carrying a metal helmet. Without a word, they placed it on the violinist's head and secured it tightly around his neck.

Seeing this, the violinist began to struggle slightly, panic rising in his voice. "What... what is this?"

"Just a simple torture device," Lucas said casually. "It can force someone's eyelids open, preventing them from sleeping. And when the neck is fixed in place, it forces the person to stare at one spot. Quite an interesting tool, don't you think?"

The violinist seemed to realize what Lucas was planning, and he muttered, "Please... why are you doing this to me?"

"Why?" Lucas's smile faded, his tone growing cold. "You only have yourselves to blame—for your ignorance, your childishness, and for leading my carefully groomed son astray. Did you really think all nobles are fools? Now, you must pay for your recklessness!"

The device was quickly secured, forcing the violinist's eyes wide open, his gaze locked on the direction of the sacrificial ritual. His neck immobilized, he couldn't even turn away.

"To be honest, I'd feel weird having someone stare directly at me," Lucas said, placing a thin screen between the violinist and the ritual. "There, that's better."

The screen displayed only faint shadows, resembling a puppet show. However, for the violinist, the sounds were perfectly clear. Each word, each note, played clearly in his sensitive musician's ears.

Whether it was from the prolonged lack of sleep or the overwhelming emotional trauma, tears began to stream continuously from the violinist's forcibly open eyes.

He recalled the first time he met the girl by the lake.

He remembered the joyful times playing music with his friends at the tavern.

He remembered the confident preparation of their plan.

In their plan, by now, they would have overthrown Mondstadt's nobles and played the song of victory, celebrated by the liberated citizens.

But now, he realized just how foolish their actions had been.

-----

His physical injuries had long lost their sensation.

But his heart felt as if it were being cut and chopped with knives every second of every minute.

The music behind the screen, which had started out loud and high, gradually became soft and subdued, eventually fading into silence, only to begin its cycle again after a brief pause. Over the course of one night, it repeated itself nine times.

The violinist could not close his eyes, nor could he block out the sounds. His greatest pride in life had been his keen hearing, which could catch the whispers of insects and the trickling of mountain springs.

Now, he wished he were deaf.

…

The ritual continued from midnight until dawn. Only when the morning sun shone upon the screen, burning the violinist's eyes, did the ceremony finally conclude.

Though Lucas was over forty, his body had long surpassed the strength of ordinary men due to years of bathing in the First Cup of Red Wine.

When he stepped out from behind the screen, sunlight bathed his body. His figure, resembling a grand statue, caused the violinist to feel a sense of inferiority.

"Well, well, you've had a tough night," Lucas said as he took two steps forward and easily removed the torture device from the violinist's head with his fingers. "Staying awake all night must have been quite painful, huh?"

Pain?

Yes, it was excruciating!

But more unbearable than the pain in his eyes was the torment in the violinist's heart.

Perhaps due to being forced to stay awake all night, the violinist found himself unable to close his eyes.

His once handsome and elegant face now appeared grotesque and horrifying, with his bloodshot eyes seemingly ready to burst from their sockets.

The violinist remained silent, his gaze falling upon the girl who had haunted his dreams. But whether it was his imagination or not, it seemed as though her face did not show the despair or pain he had expected after the storm, but instead... a more complex expression.

"I keep my promises," Lucas patted the girl's shoulder and smiled. "You can take her away now... Though, honestly, I'm a little reluctant to let her go."

The violinist knew that this was a mockery directed at him. But he no longer cared.

His spirit was on the brink of collapse, and the only thing that could heal him now was the warmth of the girl's embrace. The violinist just wanted to leave this hell with her by his side.

However, just as he reached out his hand to take hers, the girl suddenly took half a step back.

The violinist's outstretched hand hovered in midair, trembling slightly.

"W-What's wrong?" the violinist asked in a daze. "Come with me. I don't care about what happened last night. We… we can start a new life…"

"I'm sorry, but…" the girl gently tugged at Lucas's sleeve, lowering her gaze. "I can no longer leave Lord Eberhart."

Crack...

It was as though Lucas could hear something breaking.

"Ha... hahaha…" The violinist's face twisted into a smile as he muttered, "No… that's impossible… hahaha!"

He stumbled toward the door, like a man who had lost his soul. The guards at the door immediately moved to stop him.

"No need to stop him. Let him go," Lucas waved his hand.

"But…" one of the guards hesitated. "He's a criminal who tried to assassinate you."

"Let the people of Mondstadt see the consequences of defying me," Lucas said with a cold smile, watching the violinist's retreating figure. "Sometimes, the living are more useful than the dead. And sometimes, the dead are more useful than the living."

[Immersive mode ended. Calculating score.]

[Score: S-rank]

[Rewards obtained: "Troupe's Dawnlight," "Bard's Arrow Feather," "Concert's Final Hour," "Wanderer's String-Kettle," "Conductor's Top Hat"]

[Full set of "Wanderer's Troupe" obtained, activating set effect]

[Effect: 1. Increases Elemental Mastery by 80% (Elemental Mastery is the ability to control elements; the higher the value, the greater the control). 2. Increases damage of all ranged attacks by 35%.]

The rewards this time were quite generous.

In previous achievements, I only got one relic at a time, but this time, I was given an entire set.

However, the relic set bonuses seemed a little different from those in the game.

In the game, "Elemental Mastery" increases both elemental damage and elemental reaction damage. But in this world, where you can't frequently switch characters to trigger different elemental reactions, the Elemental Mastery effect has been changed to control over elements.

[You did well, I almost feel like hugging you… if I had hands]

The system gave a fairly blunt evaluation.

"I was just in it for the rewards," Lucas replied, seeming to have grown more and more accustomed to these situations. "Besides, it was all just a performance. Does playing a villain in a movie mean the actor is a bad person in real life?"

Being able to play a role that people hate is a talent in itself. Even Teacher Li, who played a famous villain, was once pelted with rotten eggs.

[You make a good point. Here's to you continuing to grow stronger and reaching new heights]

[Switching to text mode]

[Under your iron rule, the "Wanderer's Troupe Band" was completely dismantled. The conductor's body was taken down, but a mad beggar has now appeared in the town, his appearance terrifying, especially his wide-open eyes, which seem to never close.]

[People know he was once one of the rebels, and this... is the fate of those who resist.]

[Of course, this is not the end. One last member still fights on. Though the sword dancer was made a gladiator slave, she continues to resist, defeating all her opponents. Her bold and graceful form has even earned her the title "Swordsman of the Dawn."]

[This doesn't upset you. After all, she is your gladiator slave. The blood and sweat she sheds will ultimately become your profit. Forcing her to sell her swordsmanship to the very nobles she despises and to kill her own kind—could there be a more fitting punishment?]

[The gladiator arena is a space reserved for the entertainment of nobles. Nothing better showcases the nobility's superiority than watching the lowly fight for their lives to provide amusement.]

[At the same time, the arena is also a place for nobles to display their wealth. The wealthier the family, the more expensive and powerful the gladiator slaves they can afford, winning battle after battle.]

[As the most prominent noble family in Mondstadt, the Lawrence family holds significant influence in the arena. Under your command are many skilled gladiators.]

[Today, you've hidden your identity and entered the arena to watch the sword dancer's battle. After all, watching as the head of the Lawrence family would surely draw unwanted attention. Upon entering, however, you spot a familiar figure—a white-haired old gladiator.]

[He was the first gladiator to submit to you thirty years ago. Even then, he was already old, and now he is over eighty. Though you long ago granted him his freedom, he chose to remain in the arena, doing odd jobs.]

[Much like a prisoner who has spent too long in jail and cannot adapt to the outside world, the old gladiator has become a slave to the system. Whenever he sees you, he still respectfully calls you "Master" as a sign of his loyalty.]

[The gladiatorial match soon begins, and at last, you see the sword dancer's elegant form. Although she is no match for you, her graceful and agile swordsmanship, like a dance, has earned her victory after victory.]

[You once promised her an almost impossible task—if she won one hundred battles, you would grant her freedom.]

[She does not fear death, but she craves freedom. Freedom would mean a chance to seek revenge against you.]

[Her next match will be her one-hundredth. You are not afraid that she will win and gain her freedom—you can give her freedom and still have a thousand ways to make her a slave again.]

[Her opponent steps into the ring. The moment you see her, your gaze is immediately drawn to her.]

[She is a red-haired woman with tan skin, seemingly from the nomadic Natlan tribe. Due to the dragon Ursa's attacks, many Natlan people fled to Mondstadt, where they were enslaved.]

[You've never seen her before, but you sense an extraordinary potential in her.]

[A prophecy flashes in your mind—your rule will be overthrown by a red-haired warrior!]

[The battle begins, with the sword dancer and the red-haired swordswoman clashing fiercely. Both are highly skilled, and as they exchange blows, you sense a mutual admiration between them.]

[Both are young, both resentful of the nobility, both possessing exceptional swordsmanship. The sword dancer's technique is graceful and elegant, while the red-haired warrior's style is fierce and relentless. Even a layperson would be captivated by such a brilliant fight, let alone you, someone who has studied how to counter sword techniques from a young age.]

[Both of them are rare swordsmanship talents, but unfortunately, in the gladiator arena, only one can survive.]

[In the end, the red-haired swordswoman gains the upper hand, finding an opening in the sword dancer's technique and driving her sword into her chest. Blood splatters across the red-haired warrior's face, adding a solemn air to her exotic features.]

[As the sword dancer's life fades, the red-haired warrior says something. You can't hear it, but with your hawk-like eyesight, you read her lips: "I will carry on your will to resist."]

[That's right! It's her! With her great strength, her will to resist, and her warrior-like spirit, she is the one destined to overthrow your rule.]

[But you are not afraid. Since you've already stopped one prophecy, you can certainly stop another. You decide to:]

[1. Buy the red-haired swordswoman and kill her]

[2. Order the noble who owns her to kill her]

[3. Find a stronger gladiator to kill her]

"I choose the first!"

After a moment of thought, Lucas made his decision.

Gladiator slaves are the private property of nobles. Even as the head of the Lawrence family, you cannot simply demand the destruction of someone else's property. Such an action would raise suspicions and unnecessary attention.

As for the third option, Lucas suspected that the red-haired warrior was likely Vennessa, the "Lionfang Knight" from history, who overthrew the Mondstadt aristocracy and founded the Knights of Favonius. Finding a gladiator strong enough to defeat her would be nearly impossible.

Quietly buying her and then killing her would be far easier. After all, the Lawrence family never lacked money.

[You decide to find the owner of the red-haired swordswoman and buy her. Just as you're about to leave the arena, someone taps you on the shoulder. You turn around and are surprised to see that the person is the red-haired woman you encountered at the tavern, the one who is likely your illegitimate daughter.]

[You're surprised because only nobles are allowed inside the arena. The red-haired woman seems to notice your surprise and explains that she has inherited her grandfather's job and become a squire. She then asks you why you are here.]

[Since you are hiding your identity, you casually tell her that you're just a worker at the arena. The red-haired woman seems to believe you completely and even asks if you could give the "Swordsman of the Dawn" a proper burial.]

["Uncle, that final sword dance of the Swordsman of the Dawn really moved me. If I ever become a true knight, I want to name myself in her honor! I'll call myself…" the red-haired girl excitedly declared, "the Dawn Knight!"]

No way!

Lucas smacked his forehead.

He had previously wondered whether the ancestor of the Ragnvindr family a thousand years later might be this red-haired woman's brother, but now it seemed she was indeed the one!

What kind of expression would Master Diluc have if he found out that his ancestor was connected to the Lawrence family's tyrant?

Thankfully, this is just a simulation.

[So, she's been inspired by the spirit of the rebels? If it were anyone else, you would have immediately ordered their capture. But in the end, you can't bring yourself to harm your daughter.]

[After all, it's not unusual for young people to admire heroic figures. Once she matures, she'll come to realize how foolish she once was.]

[The only thing you need to do now is eliminate that red-haired swordswoman!]

[You found the owner of the red-haired swordswoman. He was also a noble of Mondstadt, not as powerful as the Lawrence family, but still quite influential, though he had always been overshadowed by the Lawrences.]

[You inquired about the red-haired swordswoman and learned that her name was Vennessa, a refugee from the Munata tribe who had come to Mondstadt. Because of her impressive swordsmanship, she was made into a gladiator.]

[You expressed your desire to buy Vennessa, but to your surprise, the noble refused. As it turns out, this noble family had long been passionate about the gladiatorial arena business, but they could never surpass the Lawrence family. Now that they had a powerful gladiator like Vennessa, they saw her as their chance to become the champions of the arena. There was no way they would sell her to another family.]

[Although the Lawrence family held immense power in Mondstadt, the city's aristocracy was deeply interconnected. They had no issue with how you exploited the commoners, but when their interests were at stake, they wouldn't agree easily.]

[Faced with the looming threat of being overthrown, you weren't about to give up so easily. An insidious plan came to mind that would allow you to get your hands on Vennessa... Killing her outright would be a waste. You felt a fiery power within her that, if absorbed, would greatly enhance your own fire elemental strength.]

[You summoned your loyal gladiators and asked if any were willing to participate in a battle they were sure to die in. If they accepted, their families would receive a substantial reward.]

[The gladiators hesitated. After all, most of them were loners fighting for their freedom, hoping to win enough matches to return to a life of liberty. Who would willingly give up their life?]

[At that moment, a sturdy figure knelt before you, offering to take on the task.]

[It was none other than the old gladiator who had served you for thirty years. He was now quite elderly, but his clouded eyes still shone with unwavering determination.]

[Your feelings were complicated. Though just a slave, the gladiator had been your first teacher in spear techniques. He had devoted nearly half his life to serving you, while others around you had left, yet he had remained loyal.]

["Don't feel troubled, my lord. I am old. Rather than waiting silently for death, I would prefer to die fighting in the arena," the gladiator carefully pulled a glass-encased flower from his pocket. The flower had long since withered and turned black—it was the one you casually gave him years ago. "This old servant swore an oath to Lord Eberhart and is ready to shed my last drop of blood for him!"]

[While everyone now called you "Lord," the gladiator still addressed you as "Young Master." To him, you were still the young boy who gave him a boutonnière and practiced spear techniques under the moonlit sky.]

[With a sigh, you accepted the gladiator's request. Three days later, the "special" duel began. On one side stood the arena's rising star, the foreign swordswoman Vennessa, known as the "Battle Demon," while on the other was an old spearman, barely able to stand.]

[The gladiator's final battle was not greeted with flowers and applause, but with mockery and scorn. Everyone thought the Lawrence family had gone mad for sending an old man to face the strongest gladiator in the arena.]

[But the old gladiator still held his iron spear firmly, standing tall in front of Vennessa, and she, in return, offered him her utmost respect.]

[What was expected to be an easy battle turned out to be anything but. The old gladiator's spear techniques were elusive and masterful, keeping Vennessa at bay for quite some time.]

[Experience outweighs youth, and a stick in the hands of an elder is more dangerous than fists of the young. Years of battle experience had refined the gladiator's skills to their purest form. He had given most of his life to the arena, and this final performance would be nothing short of perfect.]

[The audience, including you, were stunned by the spectacle. No one had expected the old man, who usually swept the grounds, to be so powerful. Gradually, the crowd began to cheer for him.]

[However, the gladiator was simply too old. Though his spear techniques were unmatched, his stamina was quickly depleted. Vennessa knew that all she had to do was wait.]

[Finally, the old gladiator reached his limit. The iron spear in his frail hands felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, and he could no longer lift it.]

["Kill me," the gladiator whispered his final request. "It is my last wish."]

[Vennessa nodded. With a single thrust, her sword pierced the old man's heart. "You were an honorable opponent," she said softly.]

["No, I wasn't," the gladiator muttered. With his remaining strength, he grabbed the blade of Vennessa's sword and smeared the poison he had hidden in his palm onto the blade. "I'm sorry, but this was my duty."]

[Vennessa's eyes widened in shock as she quickly withdrew her sword from the gladiator's chest, but it was too late. Black blood was already trickling from the old man's lips.]

["Poison! There's poison on the sword!" someone in the crowd shouted, and soon a group of soldiers rushed in, seizing the stunned Vennessa.]

-----

[The gladiator collapsed powerlessly, lying on the sand-covered arena floor. His helmet rolled off, revealing his sparse silver hair.]

[Blood gradually darkened the sand. With his last bit of strength, he pulled the small flower from his chest. Through the glass bottle, he seemed to see the cheerful noble boy once again, reaching out to him with a smile and saying, "Do you wish to become my gladiator?"]

["Thank you." You knelt down and closed the gladiator's eyes, picking up his helmet. The sadness on your face flickered briefly before reverting to your usual cold expression.]

[Achievement unlocked: "The Gladiator's Triumph."]

[Reward: "The Gladiator's Finale" item.]

[Category: Set Piece.]

[Effect: (2/4) Increases attack power by 18%.]

[Description: The helmet of a legendary ancient gladiator, stained with the blood of countless foes and proudly worn amidst the cheers of innumerable spectators.]

[Yes, this was your plan. Before the battle, you had your gladiator conceal poison. At the moment of his death, he smeared it on the opponent's sword, framing Vennessa for using poison.]

[According to Mondstadt's gladiatorial rules, if a gladiator used dishonorable means to kill their opponent, the victim's owner had the right to punish the offending gladiator in any way they wished—whether by execution or by claiming them as their own.]

[Your plan wasn't particularly clever. Vennessa's owner adamantly denied ever instructing his gladiator to use poison. However, after the aristocratic council's arbitration, you successfully gained the right to deal with Vennessa. Now, faced with the red-haired warrior's furious gaze from within her cage, you decide…]

[1. Execute her immediately.]

[2. Absorb her power, then execute her.]

[3. Release her.]

"Number... number two."

After a moment of hesitation, Lucas chose the second option.

Letting her go was absolutely out of the question. For any reason, releasing her was simply not an option.

Executing her right away would be the safest approach, but it would waste the opportunity to absorb her energy.

According to previous experiences in the simulator, sacrifices with fire elemental power were incredibly rare. Although not all red-haired women had the fire element, by coincidence, every source of fire elemental power Lucas had absorbed so far came from red-haired women.

[You decide to absorb her power first, then execute her, so as not to waste such a precious "sacrifice." After all, she was just a slave, lower than even a commoner, merely her master's property.]

[As usual, you ordered her to be taken to the high tower.]

[Forcing entry into immersive mode.]

[Mission objective: Make Vennessa willingly participate in the sacrificial ritual.]

[Mission reward: B-grade equipment ×1.]

Reluctantly, Lucas was once again drawn into the simulator.

It seemed the system had unlocked a new feature in immersive mode, requiring him to complete various tasks during these scenarios.

However, this task was much harder than forcing Vennessa into the sacrificial ritual.

It was obvious that Vennessa had already figured out the truth about the poison on her weapon and despised him. How could she possibly comply willingly?

Once again, it was the familiar high tower.

Interestingly, most of Lucas's immersive scenarios had taken place in this tower.

The red-haired girl was tightly bound by ropes. Her tanned skin and deep wine-red hair were rare sights in Mondstadt.

Though not exceptionally beautiful by traditional standards, Vennessa possessed a unique wild charm.

"Vennessa—that's your name, isn't it?" Lucas sat in front of her, smiling. "You must know why I brought you here."

"Hmph…" Vennessa glared at him with fierce hatred. "Of course I know. Many innocent girls have already been sacrificed here."

"Many? No, the exact number is 1,023," Lucas said calmly. "Their sacrifices were all for the future of Mondstadt."

"Lies!" Vennessa shouted angrily. "It's all to satisfy the twisted desires of you despicable nobles!"

"What if I told you that everything I've done is to gain power to fight off the dragon Ursa and protect Mondstadt?" Lucas said coldly. "Would you believe me?"

"That's absurd!" Vennessa's eyes widened in disbelief. "Even the greatest warriors of the Munata tribe couldn't defeat the dragon Ursa. How could you… just a mere noble, possibly stand a chance?"

"A mere noble?" Lucas scoffed. "Do you know who ensures there's bread and milk on the commoners' tables? Who allows their children to receive an education? Who lets these weaklings survive in this world? It's the very nobles you despise."

"Lies! All lies!" Vennessa's voice trembled with conviction. "Without the nobles, the people would thrive!"

"Without us, they would be like you—nomadic, homeless, reduced to refugees and slaves at the first hardship," Lucas retorted coldly. "If you don't believe me, then I'll show you."

With a snap of his fingers, the ropes binding Vennessa turned to ash, though her body remained unscathed.

"You think you're a skilled fighter?" Lucas beckoned her forward provocatively. "Defeat me, and I'll grant you your freedom."

"I'll kill you, you monster!" Vennessa grabbed a decorative longsword from the wall and lunged at Lucas. To her shock, he didn't move. When the sharp blade struck his chest, it was like hitting steel. The impact numbed her hand, and the sword blade shattered.

"My defense is 134 times stronger than an average warrior," Lucas said calmly, raising his fist at blinding speed. "And my speed is 75 times faster."

His fist stopped just a centimeter from Vennessa's nose. Though he didn't make contact, the wind from his punch brushed painfully against her cheek.

"My strength is 203 times greater," Lucas added, lowering his fist. "This is the result of the sacrifice of those 1,023 girls."

Vennessa's legs buckled, and she fell to her knees, muttering, "So… strong…"

"Now you understand that I wasn't lying. Let's make a deal," Lucas said, flexing his wrist. "If you willingly go through with the ritual, I'll grant you three wishes. First, I'll free all your people. Second, I'll defeat the dragon Ursa. Third, if your people desire it, they can become citizens of Mondstadt."

"You… you're not lying?" Vennessa's eyes gleamed with hope. "No… swear it in the name of the Anemo God!"

"Honesty is a virtue of the nobility," Lucas stood before her, towering like a god. "As for Barbatos, why would I need to swear by him? I am the god of Mondstadt now."

"I understand," Vennessa nodded. "If my sacrifice can bring happiness to my people, then… I willingly accept the ritual."

[First Cup of Red Wine ability activated. Attribute boost: Fire elemental attack increased by 300%, elemental mastery increased by 200%.]

Lucas—or rather, Eberhart's—suspicions were correct. Vennessa's body contained immense power, greatly enhancing his fire elemental abilities.

[Mission complete: Make Vennessa willingly participate in the sacrificial ritual.]

[Reward obtained: Royal Longbow.]

[Quality: B.]

[Effect: Every fourth attack is guaranteed to be a critical hit.]

Lucas could feel the powerful fire element coursing through his veins. His strength, already at the level of a noble's vassal, now seemed poised to break through its limits.

But just then, his body suddenly ignited into flames!

It wasn't that a part of his body had caught fire—his entire being had become part of the flame itself.

The intense heat made it difficult for Lucas to breathe. Glaring at Vennessa, who had been obedient just moments ago, he struggled to speak: "You... what have you done?"

"I've done nothing..." Vennessa replied calmly. "However, ever since I was a child, the Pyro God blessed and cursed me. The blessing gave me unparalleled skill in swordsmanship, but the curse... is that anyone who comes into 'contact' with me will be cursed by the Pyro God, suffering the pain of being consumed by flames."

"So that's it, this was your plan?" Lucas instantly realized the truth. Her earlier submission had all been an act. He coldly sneered, "Without me, the dragon Ursa will eventually destroy Mondstadt."

"Ursa may be terrifying, but..." Vennessa shook her head, "you are a hundred times more evil than the dragon! I will overthrow you and lead Mondstadt to defeat Ursa!"

"Hmph... you'll regret this."

With those final words, Lucas gradually lost consciousness.

…

It was unclear how much time had passed when Lucas slowly regained his senses.

To his surprise, he was still within the simulator.

Normally, if Lucas lost consciousness in the simulator, the immersive mode would be forcibly terminated. But this time, even after waking up, he found himself still inside.

He stood in confusion for about half a minute, gradually recalling what had transpired.

"Dammit..." Lucas rarely cursed, but now he muttered, "I actually got played by that woman."

But such things couldn't have been entirely out of his consideration.

It felt like one of those scripted events from before, like the scenario with Shenhe...

Wait, if this were a "scripted death," why was he still alive?

Could it be that his skill, Eternal Bloodline, had been triggered, allowing him to be reborn?

However, after checking his body, Lucas saw that he was still a full-grown adult. He likely hadn't died yet.

The burning sensation had disappeared, but his skin bore dark, charred marks, as if left by fire, or perhaps like some strange tattoo.

Looking around, he realized he was in a large cave, its size suggesting that whatever lived here wasn't small.

Suddenly, a loud thud echoed nearby, as though some massive beast was moving. A black silhouette emerged from the depths of the cave.

It was a dark purple dragon's head, its golden eyes glaring at Lucas. The dragon slowly opened its huge maw, revealing a pale purple tongue.

"So, that's how it is..." Lucas let out a bitter laugh. "Those damned rebels actually threw me here as a snack for Ursa."

His presence here meant that Vennessa had likely overthrown his rule, and the prophecy... had come true.

Being thrown to Ursa was likely part of their plan, hoping he and the dragon would fight to the death, allowing them to benefit from the outcome.

But Lucas wasn't ready to accept his fate so easily.

"Hey, Ursa!" Lucas spread his arms, grinning. "Do you want to eat me?"

Honestly, Lucas didn't expect the dragon to understand him—he only hoped it could read his body language.

Unexpectedly, the dragon backed up two steps in fear at his gesture, before lowering its head slightly. It then let out a deep, resonant voice: "Do you... wish to speak with me?"

Lucas was shocked. "You... can speak human language?"

"Human language is not a difficult concept," Ursa replied, nodding. "I remember you, the new head of the Lawrence family... You broke the pact between me and your house!"

"What?" Lucas frowned. "There was a pact between the Lawrence family and you?"

"Did the former head of Lawrence not tell you?" Ursa said indifferently. "Long ago, I made a pact with your ancestors. I could prey upon Mondstadt, but in exchange, I would stage mock battles with the Lawrence family and then be 'driven away'."

Lucas quickly understood.

It was a tactic the Lawrence family had used to maintain their rule over Mondstadt. By leveraging the threat of Ursa, they could consolidate their power. The cost? The lives of a few commoners—a practice typical of the Lawrence family.

But why hadn't his father told him about this?

At this thought, Lucas smirked bitterly. After all, he had killed his own father to take the throne. Given the circumstances, Ingobert, his father, likely hadn't had the chance to reveal this secret.

"But..." Ursa's tone grew angry. "You broke the pact. When I came to claim my 'reward,' you attacked me, even launching a full campaign against me. You humans are truly treacherous."

"There's probably some misunderstanding here," Lucas replied helplessly. "My father, Ingobert, died unexpectedly and didn't tell me about any of this."

"Ingobert..." Ursa paused mid-sentence, then shook its head. "Never mind."

"By the way..." Lucas glanced up at Ursa, an idea forming in his mind. "Isn't eating just a few people not enough to satisfy you?"

"No, it's not," Ursa answered bluntly. "I'm still very hungry."

At that moment, Ursa's golden eyes gleamed with hunger, and drool began to drip from the corners of its mouth.

It was clear that Lucas's body had whetted its appetite.

"You want to eat me? That wouldn't be a wise fight, since I would resist. The energy you'd spend battling me would be far greater than the nourishment my body could provide," Lucas said with a grin. "Wouldn't you prefer a feast instead?"

"Tell me more," Ursa said, intrigued.

"Of course," Lucas patted his neck and smiled. "But first, Mr. Ursa, could you lower your head a bit? Talking like this is killing my neck."

Perhaps due to the change in tone, Lucas now addressed Ursa as "Mr. Ursa."

"Humans are so troublesome."

Though somewhat annoyed, Ursa complied. His body was enveloped in a black mist, which quickly condensed into a smaller, humanoid form.

When the mist dissipated, standing before Lucas was a petite girl with long black and purple hair. She wore no clothes, but her body was covered in tightly fitting scales. Two black horns extended from her hair.

Behind her was a large, powerful dragon tail that looked quite out of proportion to her slender frame.

Yes, Ursa the dragon had taken on a human form.

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