Capítulo 4: The end of the interrogation?
"Uh, what?!" Venti exclaimed, confused upon hearing the name uttered by the centaur.
"A demigod," Chiron repeated.
"Yes, I heard, but... What is that?" Venti asked, gradually tilting his head.
In all his long life, the bard had never encountered such a term. It was unexpected for someone like him, one of the most knowledgeable Archons alongside Morax about the world and beyond.
After all, he wasn't the second-oldest Archon for nothing.
But seeing Chiron's confused expression made him reconsider whether his knowledge was truly as vast as he thought.
"This cursed conversation will go on longer than I expected," muttered the camp director, clearly displeased with the situation.
"Venti, how much do you know about myths and legends?" the centaur questioned.
"Honestly? Almost nothing," Venti admitted with a carefree smile.
It was true that, as a bard, he knew more than most ordinary people. Part of his duty was to spread stories and legends, transforming them into songs to lift the hearts of Mondstadt's people. He did so masterfully, even in places like taverns, performing simply to receive free drinks.
Yes, if it were possible, the bard would do this for eternity. After all, music was something everyone should have the freedom to enjoy.
But once again, he realized he knew nothing about this world.
"Yet you didn't seem surprised or afraid when you saw me," Chiron pressed, his expression stern.
For a moment, panic overtook Venti, knowing he was treading into dangerous territory, before mentally assuring himself he could handle it. After all, he was excellent at lying and telling half-truths.
He could simply tell the truth, but Venti wasn't foolish enough to trust people he had just met.
So, he'd have to rely on his greatest skill: persuasion.
"Uh... Where I come from, unusual things are pretty normal, like slimes, living magical plants, and wind spirits," the bard improvised, letting a smile slip.
Chiron's eyes sparkled with curiosity for an instant before returning to their normal expression.
"And what fantastical place would that be?" the centaur asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Mondstadt," the bard replied with a nostalgic voice. It had only been a few hours since he arrived in this world, but Venti already missed the warm, gentle breeze full of vitality sweeping through the Windwail Highlands, the sweet taste of Teyvat's finest apples, and, of course, the refreshing, sweet flavor of Dandelion Wine. Just imagining it made his body tremble with emotion. He'd do anything for just one more sip of that divine drink.
Which, incidentally, he had the honor of creating.
"Mondstadt? I've never heard of such a place in all my long years," commented Mr. D, lazily sipping his drink.
"We're a small, unknown village in the... German countryside," Venti answered, forcing a convincing tone.
Chiron and Dionysus exchanged glances, clearly having some sort of silent conversation, while the centaur stroked his beard thoughtfully.
"Before we get to the main point, I'd like to know more about you, Venti," Chiron said, his tone gentle but firm.
"Let's see... I'm five foot four, sixteen years old, I like music and apples, and I hate people who impose their will on others," the bard responded with a mischievous smile, blending truths and lies into his introduction.
"I see. Well, now we can get to the real point that started this conversation."
Venti remained silent, listening attentively to every word the centaur spoke. With each sentence, the bard grew increasingly fascinated by the world he had stumbled into.
Who would have imagined that gods existed in this world, just like in Teyvat?
Chiron explained that these gods called themselves Olympians—immortal beings who governed and manipulated the forces of nature. He added that there were twelve Olympians, forming a council of the principal deities in their pantheon.
To Venti, this sounded strangely similar to Teyvat's Seven Archons, each governing a region and representing an ideal. However, the Olympians claimed to be truly immortal, incapable of being killed. This idea made the bard arch an eyebrow. Even gods eventually vanished. Nothing was eternal.
As Chiron continued, Venti's brain began to overload. Information piled up in his mind like a storm. He learned that in this world, many mortals didn't believe in the existence of gods, dismissing them as frauds or ancient myths.
Despite this, Chiron explained that the Olympians occasionally descended from their abode, Olympus—the home of the gods—to interact with mortals. From these unions, demigods or half-bloods were born: beings who were part god, part mortal.
To his greatest surprise, they believed that he, Venti, was one of these demigods.
"By Barbatos! That's a lot to take in," Venti exclaimed before pulling a silly face, realizing he had invoked his own name.
Mr. D, who had appeared disinterested until now, raised his eyes with a severe expression.
"Kid, names are powerful things. You don't just toss them around without reason, especially names like that..."
"Venti."
Chiron's voice, heavy with concern, broke through the bard's thoughts.
"How do you know that name?" Chiron asked.
Panic gripped Venti's body more than ever, leaving him with no choice but to respond.
"That's the name of the god worshiped in Mondstadt," the bard stammered, trembling at what might come next.
There's no way they can know about me, he thought to himself.
Before Chiron or Mr. D could reply, the office door burst open, and a girl with black hair entered.
"Chiron!" she exclaimed, her voice tired and urgent.
"Ah, Silena, you've arrived at a perfect time. Could you show our camper around the camp?"
"B-but..." Silena hesitated, glancing at the centaur's serious face.
"Yes, sir."
Silena led the bard out of the Big House, much to his mental relief, leaving the two camp residents alone.
"That boy is unusual," Chiron commented to Mr. D, who took the last sip of his drink.
"No need to state the obvious, Chiron. The way the wind seemed happy to dance around him was enough for me to suspect he might be the child of a wind god. But the worst part was him uttering *that* name!" Mr. D exclaimed.
"Is there a chance it's actually him?"
"Almost zero. The Germanic gods wouldn't allow a duke of hell to be worshiped in their lands. It's probably just some foolish mortal who ascended to divinity and took his name." Mr. D concluded, heading toward the door while muttering something inaudible.
"Let's hope so. We don't need more catastrophes in the dark times ahead," Chiron said, gazing out the square window at the clear blue sky.
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