The expedition led them to the region that would later come to be known as the Stormbearer Mountains — a vast and rugged landscape marked by treacherous cliffs, cascading waterfalls, and winding paths shrouded in mist. The area was renowned for its untamed beauty and rare biodiversity, most notably the Valberries, a fruit found only in this harsh environment.
As the group — consisting of thirty well-armed knights — pushed deeper into the terrain, Frieda Gunnhildr, Qinyue, and Orion found themselves encountering an unfamiliar threat: primitive, humanoid creatures with an unsettling appearance. They were bare-chested and barefoot, with wild manes that covered their heads like thick fur, elongated ears, loincloths, and limbs wrapped in bandages. Their faces were hidden behind crude wooden masks, giving them an eerie, almost ritualistic look.
"I've never seen monsters like these before... They just keep coming — always from the direction of Liyue," Qinyue muttered, frowning as he scanned the trees ahead.
From the shadows, a chorus of guttural noises rang out.
"Ooga booga..."
A group of Hilichurls emerged from the underbrush, surrounding them in the dozens, their movements erratic but aggressive.
The knights immediately moved into formation, their blades drawn but steady, awaiting orders.
"Hold your ground," Frieda commanded firmly, raising a hand. "Don't attack yet. We know nothing about them — stay on the defensive."
Standing beside her, Orion swallowed hard, his throat dry from tension. His hands trembled ever so slightly as he gripped the hilt of his unused sword.
Noticing his unease, Frieda smirked.
"Is this your first time being surrounded, Your Highness?" she teased, arching a brow.
"I wish," Orion replied, attempting a dry chuckle. "But knowing how to survive and knowing how to fight... those are two very different things."
His eyes stayed fixed on the advancing horde, the grim expression on his face betraying the weight of the moment.
After several grueling rounds of battle, the knights stood victorious — bruised, battered, but alive.
"These things are tough as hell... They look scrawny, but fight like rabid beasts." one of the soldiers muttered, wiping blood—his or theirs, who knows—from his cheek, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion.
Frieda's sharp eyes locked onto him.
"You're tired already?" she asked, her voice flat but laced with just enough edge to send a chill down anyone's spine.
"N-No, Captain!" he barked instinctively, snapping to attention. A shiver ran through him, goosebumps rising like his soul had momentarily considered exiting his body.
Frieda couldn't help but smirk and turned her attention to Orion, who stood behind the frontline, spotless and untouched.
"Well, the area's cleared... and you did absolutely nothing," she said, crossing her arms. "Tell me, were you planning to tag along as inspirational dead weight the whole way?"
Orion chuckled weakly, scratching the back of his neck. Before he could answer, Qinyue stepped in with a sigh — not of fatigue, but of mental burnout, like someone who's been babysitting a royal with the survival skills of a lost cat.
"I've told you already — he's only just recovered his health. He has no combat training, and no familiarity with this terrain. I won't allow him to fight recklessly," Qinyue said, rubbing his temples. "For now, his only duty is to observe. That is final."
The tension in the air began to settle, the sound of wind whistling through the jagged rocks the only thing accompanying their silence.
But in the upper reaches of the Stormbearer Mountains, beyond the jagged peaks and veils of mist, the clouds began to churn.
Something was moving. Within them.
The wind shifted — no longer just cold, but now laced with something foul... something ancient.
Then came the sound.
A long, slow sniff that echoed unnaturally across the valley, like a predator breathing in the scent of prey.
A twisted voice followed, raspy and dripping with malevolence:
"I can smell it... the beings born of VlastMoroz's essence... They're here..."
Then, without warning, a high-pitched, shrill scream burst from the clouds, carrying an unnatural glee that twisted the very air.
"I'm going to have a feast—EHEHEHEAHAHAEHAH!!"
Something was coming. Something worse than Hilichurls.
And it had just caught their scent.
As Orion, Frieda, and Qinyue prepared to venture into the remaining unexplored areas, they agreed it was time for a break. Hunger gnawed at them like a persistent Hilichurl, so they made their way to a pristine pool near Cider Lake. The water shimmered under the soft sunlight, inviting them to rest without worry. They settled down to eat, the tension easing for a brief moment.
Orion stood vigilantly at the edge, clutching his binoculars, desperate to prove he wasn't just dead weight.
"Come on, come and eat something with us," Frieda urged, casting a worried glance toward Qinyue.
"And what happened to all your concern about his health now?" she asked, raising a brow.
Qinyue sighed, eyes focused on the lightly injured soldiers he was tending.
"I've done my best, but he's stubborn. It's not bad enough for me to force him, so... I'm letting it slide."
Frieda shook her head with a dry laugh.
"You're of no use to me," she muttered.
Orion, not missing a beat, shrugged.
"I'm fine, Frieda. Just go ahead and eat without me." His gaze swept the surrounding woods as he peered through his binoculars, scanning for any signs of trouble.
Suddenly, a loud flapping of wings echoed through the clearing. The air shifted — the winds picking up with a sudden chill, carrying with it an eerie foreboding. The clouds darkened swiftly, blotting out the sunlight.
"What's going on...? The weather's changing so suddenly," Orion murmured, unease creeping into his voice. "Looks like a storm's coming."
What he didn't realize was that this storm was far more than a simple shift in weather.
"Orion, what's happening? Why did the weather change all of a sudden?" Frieda's voice cut through the growing gusts, laced with concern.
"I don't know. These clouds... they just appeared out of nowhere," he said, eyes never leaving the sky as he tightened his grip on the binoculars.
The flapping wings grew louder, more menacing. Then, with a thunderous crack, the clouds parted.
A fearsome dragon emerged, descending like a nightmare carved from storm clouds.
Its body was sleek and aerodynamic, covered in dark blue and teal scales that seemed cracked and dimmed — glowing cyan veins pulsing with unstable energy weaving through its skin. Twisted, jagged horns sparked faint arcs of static electricity. Its vast wings were wide and thin, their teal membranes torn and streaked with black veins, fluttering ominously in the violent wind.
Its eyes glowed with a cold, hazy blue — empty yet burning with lethal intent. Long, razor-sharp claws flexed in anticipation, and the dragon's presence hummed with the ominous sound of an approaching storm.
"IT'S TIME FOR A FEASSTTT!!!!!!!" it roared with manic excitement, voice echoing across the mountains like a death knell.
The knights' faces turned pale as memories of Durin's devastating assault flashed before their eyes.
"Another dragon?" one soldier whispered, haunted.
"We can't win," another sobbed openly.
"This is hell, right? Dvalin won't save us this time... He was too injured in the last battle... We're dead..."
"Lord Barbatos, please protect us," came the desperate prayers, voices trembling and echoing in the chilling wind.
Fear rippled through the group like wildfire, the shadow of doom settling over Stormbearer Mountains.
Frieda rushed toward Orion, fear painted across her face like a war-torn battlefield. Her armor clinked with each panicked step, her breath caught between desperation and disbelief. But when she reached him—expecting to find him frozen in terror—she stopped cold.
There was no fear in his eyes.
Only disgust.
"Orion... you're not scared?" she asked, voice trembling as she threw her arms around him.
He looked down at her, calm amidst the rising storm, and offered a faint, almost bitter smile.
"Once you've seen the true form of Seraphyx... no dragon, no matter how monstrous, can scare you."
Frieda's grip tightened as if holding onto him would keep the world from falling apart.
Then, a rumble shook the sky as the dragon above paused midair, its wings beating slower, its gaze fixated sharply on Orion.
"You there... the one born of VlastMoroz's essence," it said, its voice losing the mania, settling into a slow, slithering calm. "What business have you in my Lord's domain?"
Orion blinked once, unshaken.
"Me?"
"Of course, you," the dragon sneered, its mouth curled into a grin that didn't belong on anything that breathes. "The rest cower like mice. But you... You carry her scent. The stench of exile. The scent of someone who dared defy fate."
Orion's eyes flickered with a shadow of pain.
"I was banished..." he said, voice low—heavy. There was sorrow in it, but also something else. Something quietly burning.
The dragon's expression shifted instantly — its eyes now gleaming with savage amusement.
"Oh... delicious. So you've been cast out. I see. Then I can feast without fear of reprisal."
It let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-snarl.
"Perfect."
With a sudden gust of wind, the beast dived toward them, the sky tearing behind it. Its maw opened wide, jagged teeth glinting, the sound of its hunger louder than thunder.
Frieda barely had time to react as the dragon came down in a blur of glowing veins and crackling energy, aiming to snap both her and Orion in half.