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Before there was Asia, there was Tevyat. Seven nations under seven different gods — all arisen from war.
A power each of those gods held over their respective element that could not be faked nor copied. A power that was certainly quite godly.
While among those Gods there were quite a few that used their power for anything but good…
… as cities were destroyed and the people rioted…
… Certain cities stayed just fine, even without a ruler...
Without a ruler.
Without a godly ruler.
Eventually, humans evolved to live without the gods.
Humanity pushed forward, such great innovations in such a short time.
Anyone blessed with a vision would now be turned a blind eye to, ignored by society.
To be looked at by a God, and Archon— meant that you were shameful.
Of course, not all Archons were shameful. Some lived on vicariously, their tales being spread far and wide, telling others of their mysteries.
Archons were immortal, yes, everyone knew. But no one could find the Archons in the present day, they simply were not around.
Visions eventually merged with the human DNA albeit violently at first, slowly diverging more and more from the original seven elements as they all became something more recognizable to mankind today.
Quirks. Quirks, that’s what they were called.
What a new age this is, His azure eyes looked towards the sky, a sorrow that only he could carry as he had through the millennium. And what a sad land…
The Geo Archon no longer blessed the soil of civilization, instead, he too, was hidden away.
The Cryo Archon no longer blessed mortals with the beauty that is snow and ice. She too, was hidden away.
The Dendro Archon no longer blessed the trees and the plants that had littered Earth’s surface in such envied beauty. They too, were hidden away.
The Electro Archon no longer blessed them with the electricity that was beyond the power of mere mortals. She too, was hidden away.
The Pyro Archon no longer showered the world in light and warmth with ferocious flames of protection. They too, were hidden away.
Oh, but what came of the Anemo Archon? Were they hidden away as well?
“ No,” The winds spoke once more, “You cannot do that here, Barbatos. This is not your home.”
This is neither my land, nor my home, His blue hair whisked in the wind. His form of an old friend of his — the nameless bard. Even after all these years, you would’ve thought he’d let go, huh? He had slept for thousands of years, only waking when he sensed Celestia being destroyed. His gnosis cried as the connection was snapped abruptly, pure pain overwhelming his body. He had gotten back his gnosis thanks to a pair of twins, however, it all turned out to nothing when Celestia became nothing.
Even without Celestia, he was still the Wind Archon, the Windborne Bard. He could still feel the wind, resonate with it. He can still hear people’s prayers whenever they say his name, no matter where they are. He could still grant wishes, visions, and blessings. He was still, indeed, an Archon.
However that blank spot in his gnosis simply would not leave. Now accursed with living forever as it is his responsibility as the wind; and the wind does not die. With no one to take his place since there are no vision wielders and Celestia is out, he, the Windborne Bard, was forever cursed to be the Wind Archon.
On the other hand, this was a time filled with new chances! His powers were stronger than ever before, the wind coursing to his veins making him feel drunk on life. The severing of Celestia had removed the imposed rules. No longer did he need to rule a city to be strong, no longer did he need worship or faith to be strong, he was a God. One could say he ascended yet again. Who knew that for all of this to happen, Celestia merely had to be destroyed?
He would’ve done it, he’s just mad that the Cyro Archon got to it first.
“Barbatos, ” His winds snapped him out of his musings, “Good morning. We hope you’re satisfied with everything we caught you up on. ”
Oh my, is he satisfied? He’s positively intrigued. Humans live without the need of Archons, and also without visions. This is what Khaenri’ah tried to be, and this is what Barbatos had made of Mondstadt. A land of the free, it bears no shackles to Archon. He pursed his lips as he replied, his voice rusty with disuse, “I’m sure you know I’m more than satisfied.”
“Welcome back, Barbatos,” His winds sounded amused, “We need you to change your attire in order to fit in with the outside crowd…”
Right, these were different times. It was quite an easy thing to forget, remembering how long he’s lived, it appears he had lost count, a bummer really. “What will I change into?” He asked the wind whipping around him.
The winds brought a change of clothes, a welcomed one at that. He switched out of the clothes and into the new ones. He teleported above ground, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the light for the first time in a millennia. He wonders how much mora would sell for now. He needs a job, and he needs one soon. He doesn’t know this world’s currency, nor how to read their language. Luckily, the winds will whisper translations.
“Mora is gold,” The winds said, “You should be able to sell it at a pawnbroker. We’ll tell you where an open one is. ”
He hummed a Liyuen tune as a reply. Replying out loud in a place with so many people could prove to be quite disastrous. His gaze landed on a few people, one of which was wearing a grey and green uniform. His green eyes matched his hair, and he was smiling with all his friends.
The Archon’s lips tipped upwards at the display. Such strange, and yet, happy people.
The winds guided him towards the pawnbroker shop, to which he entered with no hesitation.
The guy at the counter looked up. He was about twice the size of the measly little Archon, his face having some wrinkles which was a clear indicator of a constant frown. His eyes were a deep purple that reminded the God faintly about the Electro Archon. Nonetheless, he could not continue admiring the man’s appearance anymore as he spoke, “You’ve got something?”
A familiar grin made its way onto his face, “Why, yes I do.” He walked up to the counter, looking up at the man. He was not the least intimidated by this man, although the man was two sizes of him. “I’ve got a bag of gold coins. How much are you going to pay for it?”
The man raised a brow as he gruffly replied, “I’m going to need your name and to see the quality of those coins.”
“Why, they were made by Rex Lapis himself! Of the utmost finest quality there is!” The winds said.
“Of course,” He took out his pouch of mora, “My name’s Venti, by the way.”
“No last name?” The stranger asked.
“No,” Venti replied, “I’m a foreigner.” That should explain a bit as to why Venti had only introduced himself with one name, and truth to be said he was a foreigner. He recognized the handwriting as a language from Inazuma, not Mondstadt. Mondstadt was his home, he was a foreigner everywhere else.
Venti took out one of the gold coins and handed it to the pawnbroker, “They’re of the finest quality, I assure you.”
After performing a scratch test the pawnbroker was quite impressed, “Say, where did you find these, boy?”
“It’s Venti,” He replied, “And that, I cannot tell.”
The man stared for a moment, “Right, Venti. My name’s Dvalin—”
Venti stiffened at the name.
“—and yes, it’s a fairytale name, I’m aware—”
They’re fairytales? He absently thought, amused.
“—I’m willing to give you a lot of yen depending on how much you have.”
Venti smiled, “Well, you are in luck, I do indeed have quite the collection.”
To say that Venti left the pawnbroker shop rich was an understatement. However, he didn’t pay it much mind as he was wondering where to settle.
Luckily, there were plenty of apartments nearby!
He got an apartment fairly quickly, thanks to the winds again, guiding him. Venti entered his apartment which, as expected, was barren. Venti quickly went to the furniture store and bought a bed that would be here by tomorrow. However, for now, it seems he’ll have to sleep on the floor…
A knock was heard from the door as Venti walked over to open it. The people at the door were two males, each appearing to be 30 years of age. The first one had blonde hair and a blonde mustache to match. His hair was long and straight down to his shoulders. He was dressed quite nicely compared to the person behind him, who was dressed like a hobo. Hair curly and wildly unkempt. The eyebags under his eyes making his glare more fierce. “Hello, little listener!!”
Venti bowed his head in greeting, “Hello!! To what may I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
The man smiled, “We just found out you were our neighbor so abruptly and wanted to properly introduce ourselves.”
Venti vaguely noticed the disinterest rolling off the hobo in waves. Did he force him to be here or something? “A—ah, how rude of me not to reply…! My name is Venti, nice to meet you.”
“Yamada Hizashi, and this is Aizawa Shouta,” The man said. “You’re a child, do you have any clue where your parents went?”
That was … kind of blunt.
“Barbatos! Instead of Mondstadt, say South Korea!”
He’ll listen to the Winds. “My parents are over in South Korea.”
The hobo’s eyes sharpened in interest, making Venti squirm. The blond didn’t notice as he continued to make admirable conversation with Venti. Eventually, it came time for the two men to part, leaving Venti alone in his apartment yet again. Venti had sighed in relief after the piercing eyes were removed from his vicinity.
This new world he had woken up so is certainly interesting.
The first troubled prayer Venti had seen was made by a boy the exact same visual age as him. His hair was split in two colors, as were the shades of his eyes. He had a horrible burn on one of the sides of his face, and a frown etched onto his face as well.
For some strange reason, he had been praying to him — Barbatos. Venti doubted that anyone remembered him, but it seems he was wrong. “Hey, are you okay?”
“I pray that Barbatos can hear this… and he can help bring my dad to justice.”
Oh he heard, and he heard well . Venti went up to the boy, poking him to garner his attention, “Hello?”
The boy startled as his attention snapped to Venti. The boy squinted at him, and looked confused after. “Are you Barbatos?”
“W—what?” Venti was taken off guard by the question, “No, why would you—?”
“You look exactly how the pictures had drawn him in the old days,” The boy said, “So, are you Barbatos?”
“Why, I haven’t even heard your name yet, I’ll tell you mine when I do!”
The boy showed no reaction, but the corners of his mouth tipped slightly upwards, “Of course. Todoroki Shouto.”
Venti smiled, “Nice to meet you, I’m Venti.”
Todoroki tipped his head slightly to the side, “The Bard?”
Now Venti was interested, just how much did Todoroki know? He chuckled lightly, “Well I am a Bard, just not who you think.”
He muttered something that came to Venti’s ears not a second later.
“Barbatos, is that you? ”
Legend had said Venti could hear his name even in the smallest of forms if it was spoken.
Legend wasn’t wrong.
Nonetheless, Venti pretended as he hadn’t heard it, and continued talking with the boy. “So, Todoroki,” His name sounded different on Venti’s tongue. It wasn’t a name he had heard while traveling around Teyvat at all. Maybe he would have heard it in Inazuma, but Venti didn’t travel to Inazuma often. Only when he was called or once in a blue moon. “How are you?”
It was clear that Venti wanted a certain answer, an honest one.
And luckily, Todoroki had caught the sign, “Less than good.”
Venti hummed, falling silent at that. “May I help you then? What’s troubling you?”
It was clear that Todoroki wouldn’t give up the answer so easily.
The wind blew, making a whistle Venti could clearly translate, giving him the answer instead. “His father hurts him.”
To this, outwardly, Venti showed no reaction. However, inwardly, it was a different story. It was such a delicate situation and Venti couldn’t help but panic when faced by it. “I cannot help you if you don’t tell me. But if you don’t want me to, that’s okay too.”
Todoroki stayed silent before asking, “What’s your quirk?”
“Quirks are visions, however they are not gifted, ” The wind reminded Venti.
“Just a weak wind quirk, why?”
“Wind…” Todoroki trailed off, “You are Barbatos.”
Venti stared at him, “No I’m not. You’ve got no evidence.”
Todoroki smiled, “Oh, but I do.”
“Please tell.”
“You appeared right as I was praying to Barbatos. You have a wind quirk. You look just like him, and you referred to yourself as a Bard.”
“What does the Bard one have to do with anything?”
“Barbatos brought music to Tevyat, the God of Song. Of course he’d masquerade as a Bard.”
First of all, no, Barbatos didn’t bring music to Tevyat - Venti fell flat. 4 pieces of evidence that he had failed to consider. “I prefer the name Venti.”
Seeing as he had not denied the theory; to Todoroki, that was seen as confirmation. Todoroki smiled, “Okay, Barbatos.”
“Venti, ” He corrected, “Venti is the name I prefer.”
“Okay,” Todoroki replied, albeit hesitantly. “Venti.” The name rolled off awkwardly in Todoroki’s mouth, “Venti,” he repeated.
“Yes, Todoroki?” He asked, a smile on his face, “You’ve said my name twice already.”
“Oh, right.”
“So, will you consider my previous offer? May I help somehow? Maybe bring up your mood a bit?” Venti suggested.
Todoroki didn’t know how to respond.
Venti hummed a tune as he waited for Todoroki to make a decision. The wind blew, it was quite a breezy day today. Todoroki opened his mouth to reply, “Play a song for me?”
Venti summoned his lyre, hands familiar with the strings that he loved plucking. He smiled at Todoroki, “Of course. What do you want me to play?”
“Anything.”
With the memories of Mondstadt floating in his brain, and the wind flowing freely around him, he played a song too familiar to him.
Yet forgotten by time.
Even though it was forgotten by many, with Venti reminiscing, he played nonetheless.
He played for the memories of others.
Venti was riding a bike to a job interview. It had been a few weeks, and he had been hustling as he applied to many jobs. He had gotten accustomed to this life rather quickly. He had also recently bought himself a phone with all the yen he got from selling mora.
It was still quite weird to him, everything was really. He had to learn so many things about this society and some just don’t make any sense. The heroes and villains shtick they have going on here is stupid, and he still can’t even grasp the concept of quirks.
“Take the time you need to adjust, Barbatos,” The winds whispered to him.
Venti slowed down to a stop as the light turned to red on his side. He was about to respond to the winds until he saw a child running onto the street.
It happened too fast for him to process. He pulled on the air, lifting the child up as the car zoomed by what would’ve been the child’s position.
Venti dropped the child onto the sidewalk gently, sighing in relief as the tension in his shoulders dropped. The lady hugged her child closely, and began to scold her. Everyone that had witnessed the scene quickly started chatting. Wondering what quirk or miracle it was.
Venti saw the light on his side turn to green.
He continued on his way.
“ Please, Barbatos, why can’t he just listen to me this once?”
Venti woke up to a rather weird prayer. It was definitely not from Todoroki. Todoroki formats his prayers differently, this was clearly a person Venti had never met.
Venti went to the bathroom, doing his daily morning routine. He braided his hair again. Glancing at the mirror and deciding it was good enough, he carried on. He had to find out who that prayer belonged to, so he could fulfill it, of course. It was another part of his routine at this point.
Venti’s job interview did go quite well, and he landed the job.
At a café.
Cliché, huh?
Venti hummed as he walked to the door, ready to go. He walked through the street, briefly glancing at the TV store with the news currently on display. He paused as he saw his little save on TV. Venti looked away, he hadn’t meant to drag attention, and he hoped no one recognized him. Venti had bought a phone the other day, but was still grasping on how to use it.
He felt really, really old! Even after losing his gnosis, then Celestia came crashing down so he got it again — he’s still alive! Venti’s old as hell, but he hasn’t felt this old in so long. Venti wondered if there were still any Archons left. After Celestia came crashing down, there was probably no need for any new ones. With no Celestia there are no gnosis in production, with no gnosis there are no Archons. If any others had survived with Venti, he’d bet on it being Morax, or the Dendro Archon. The others were too stuck in their ways to be willing to survive, so to say.
Venti arrived at the café. He smiled at the familiar jingle of the chime as he opened the door. The aroma of lattes and newly baked muffins floated in the air, a wonderful smell indeed. The TVs on the far side of the room had mindless noise coming from them, noise that Venti had far since tuned out. The Archon leisurely walked to the door, a bounce in his step. He checked in to start his shift.
Ding! “Venti, is it?” One of his coworkers greeted, “Welcome to your first day!”
Venti smiled back at his coworker, bowing out of respect before asking, “Thanks! What’s your name? Are you showing me the ropes today?”
“The name’s Abernathy—” Ah, so she’s not from here , Venti noted. “—and yeah, I’m showing ya around today. No need to be so formal.”
“Got’cha!” He threw a thumbs-up at Abernathy, delighted at the small smile he drew from the woman, “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”
“It’s so weird to see youngsters your age working these days,” An old man commented as Venti served him his coffee.
Black coffee, bitter and often seen with disdain. Venti wondered why the old man liked it so much. “Really? They’re probably working after school, that’s probably why.”
The old man shook his head, his lips turning slightly upwards in a parody of a smile, “I see you’ve misunderstood. Most of them are training to become heroes.”
“Ah, of course,” Venti blurted before catching himself. He chuckled before playing it off, “Most of them are training to be heroes. But I don’t have a particular interest in the stage.” It was a lie. He was a bard, and he loved being one. The stage was his home, and it felt right. The adrenaline he gets from all the eyes, and the beloved gazes from those of beyond. Oh, Venti’s got it all wrong, the stage is where he belongs. Of course there was no way the old man knew this. Bards were a thing of the past, all of that long passed. To say that music was gone was a hit to Venti, but then again, silence may be bliss.
The old man raised a brow, his confusion taking over his face as he put the coffee down gently on the plate. “For not someone who wants to be on stage, you certainly belong there.”
Venti froze, he didn’t understand how the old man would have known. He should stop underestimating humans, after all, didn’t he see Celestia reach its end with one? Venti glanced at the man, his azure eyes making eye contact with the man’s emerald. He smiled, a genuine one, “I don’t understand what you mean. The stage is not the place where I should be. Riddle me this, do you know me?” His rhyming found its ways into his words, something that felt right, but Venti hadn’t done in quite a few fortnights.
The man smiled back, “Perhaps I do not. However your desire for the stage is quite apparent, nearly transparent. Thank you for your service, and perhaps I was mistaken. You’re not as young as you seem, are you, Venti?”
He probably got my name from the name tag, He mused. His smile warped into a childish one. It was wider, and kinder than his previous one. “I don’t know what conclusion you’re coming to, however it’s not true. I’ve seen things beyond my years, yes, solely because no one would lend an ear. Although I am as young as I seem, you just look too into me.” Venti heard one of his coworkers call his name. “It was delightful chatting with you, and I’m sorry to go so soon.”
“Of course you can go, young man,” The old man said, “I quite hope to see you again.”
“I can say the same to you, sir.”
Venti walked away.
He had gotten complimented immensely today. His appearance, his way of talking, his way of entertaining, and if he was being honest, it was slightly overwhelming. The Archon walked to a beach nearby. Venti wondered how much beauty had been taken away when it had many trash bins. Luckily someone had cleaned all of it — a miracle in itself.
The sky was a wonderful blend of pinks, purples and blues. Such colors reminded Venti of multiple people, beautiful people, just like these hues. A flute was in his hand, and he was wondering what he should play. Before long, however, someone had walked his way.
The wind picked up a bit, flowing around Venti as the moon rose. Venti glanced at the newcomer who was far away from home. “Hello.”
“Hey,” The newcomer greeted. His skin was porcelain, but not like a doll. Plenty of blemishes, reminding Venti of the battles he must have done. The newcomer had scars on his arms, jagged ones, yet seemed no older than Venti’s appearance. A bit concerning in itself. The newcomer had fluffy and messy hair of which Venti had never seen before, the color an emerald green. His eyes match those of the old man’s, wisdom reflected far past the horizons.
“Hello!” Venti chirped, his calm composure replaced with something a bit less mature. “What’s your name?”
“Midoriya,” The kid said, “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too!” Venti said, “I’m Venti. I work at a café nearby, lost track of time, and didn't notice it was so late.”
“Oh,” Midoriya rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, gaze diverting, “I went down a similar path. Was training and lost track of time.”
“That’s nice,” Venti said before silence reigned in, “You’re going to be a hero, I’m assuming?”
“Yep!” Midoriya smiled, “A hero.”
The silence took over anyways as Venti looked for something to say. “That’s nice,” His words were dry and Venti felt bad. He didn’t want to be mean to the kid or anything. “Pretty admirable if you ask me.”
The kid’s smile only got wider. “Thanks.” Midoriya then asked, “Are you a musician?”
It was then that Venti remembered the flute in his hand. “Oh, yeah,” He shifted his hold on the flute, “Would you like me to play a tune for you?”
Midoriya nodded hesitantly, “If you’d like to.”
Venti chuckled, “I’m always in the mood to play for someone here. However, bare with me, I’m a bit rusty.” The flute was held up as Venti blew. His fingers find the notes easily. Venti played for a friend he had once known, and a society that had once glowed. He played for the ones that have been lost, for those whose stories have been tossed.
Midoriya sighed, tension leaving his body as he was so relaxed he almost closed his eyes.
Venti was delighted to play to anyone, his happiness made its way into the air. The wind swirling around them, howling that life wasn’t fair. Venti was sure Midoriya could achieve his dream, he could make it there. It was a scene to be cherished, a scene only they knew. The song came to an end and the winds died down, ending on a note that was rather blue. “I loved playing for you,” Venti said as soon as the song was over. “But it’s late. Are you sure your family isn’t worried?”
It seems Midoriya snapped back into reality, “O—oh, uh, yeah!” It was awkward now, the previous calm in between them gone. “Thank you for playing! The song was really beautiful! What’s it called?”
“It’s an original song so it’s nameless so far,” Venti said, “Maybe I’ll give it a name someday.”
“Do you wanna stay in touch?” Midoriya asked, “Like—”
“Sure!” Venti cut him off with a smile, “Here’s my phone number,” He took out his phone and handed it to Midoriya.
Midoriya took the phone and took out his own to fill in contact information. “Uh, Venti, right?”
“Yep,” Venti got his phone when Midoriya handed it back. He saw Midoriya rush away, the final words being said were “Thank you for the song!”
“You’re welcome!” Venti yelled back.
Barbatos had a nice day.