The Whispering Forest stretched wide and wild beyond Mondstadt's walls, a sprawling expanse of emerald canopies and golden glades where the wind sang through ancient oaks and the earth pulsed with life. Barbara stood on a mossy knoll, her blue skirt swaying as a breeze tugged at her blonde curls, her Hydro Vision glinting like a sapphire at her waist. Before her, Nyaromon—freshly evolved from Snowballmon—pranced in the undergrowth, its yellow, cat-like form darting between ferns, its tail flicking with newfound agility. "Nya!" it mewed, leaping toward her with a purr that vibrated through the air, its black eyes gleaming with pride as it sought her approval.
Barbara's face lit up, her hands clapping together as she knelt to meet it. "Look at you, Nyaromon—so fierce and cute all at once!" she cooed, her voice a melody of delight as she ruffled its sleek fur, marveling at the transformation. She'd skimmed Digimon: First Frontier at Galehaven Comics, catching glimpses of Snowballmon's evolution into Nyaromon, then beyond—maybe Salamon, Gatomon, even Angewomon one day—but the details blurred in her memory. "Nyaromon, right? That's what Harlan called it," she murmured, her fingers tracing its soft ears, the texture as comforting as ever despite its fiercer form. Its mews, now a kitten's cry instead of chirps, only deepened her adoration.
"We did great today—let's call it here and come back another time," she said, standing with a stretch, her tone warm but cautious. Nyaromon's evolution had been the goal, a triumph born of wildflowers and fruits plucked from the forest's bounty, and pushing further risked straining its tiny frame. She wasn't worried about resources—her dual mastery of Hydro and the Freeze Fruit could sustain it, and Mondstadt's wilds brimmed with Dandelions, Lamp Grass, and Sweet Flowers aplenty. "You'll grow even stronger soon, but let's not rush," she added, scooping Nyaromon into her arms, its purr a soft rumble against her chest.
The sun hung high, its noon rays piercing the canopy in shafts of gold, and her stomach growled, a reminder of the meal she'd skipped to chase this moment. "Time to head back—lunch in Mondstadt sounds divine right now," she said, turning toward the city's distant spires, their stone tips just visible beyond the treeline. She'd raced to the forest after parting with Lisa, too eager to wait, and now the promise of a warm stew at the Good Hunter beckoned. But as she took her first step, a rustle—sharp, deliberate—cut through the forest's hum, freezing her in place.
Seven hilichurls emerged from the shadows, their gnarled forms lurching forward, clubs and torches clutched in bony hands, their masks glinting with crude menace. Barbara's breath hitched—she'd wandered too deep, strayed into their territory while foraging, and now they encircled her, their guttural growls a rising tide. "Nya!" Nyaromon leapt from her arms, landing with a hiss, its tail swelling into a bristling mass of wire-like fur, poised to strike. Its Tail Whip—a move Harlan had mentioned—glimmered with potential, but its tiny size and kittenish glare lacked the menace to deter the advancing foes.
"Easy, Nyaromon—stay calm, I've got this," Barbara said, kneeling briefly to stroke its head, her voice steady despite the adrenaline spiking through her. She felt a pang of warmth—its fierce loyalty, despite its youth, was a gift she'd nurtured—and rose, her expression hardening as she faced the hilichurls. Eight enemies, no bruisers among them—just standard grunts, their movements clumsy but relentless. "Not too bad—I can handle this," she thought, her Freeze Fruit power tingling in her fingertips, a cold confidence bolstered by Harlan's gift. She'd frozen one earlier; eight was just a bigger test.
The lead hilichurl lunged, its club swinging in a wild arc, and Barbara thrust her hands forward, a blast of frigid air erupting from her palms. Ice raced across the ground, snaring its legs in a crystalline grip, its roar cut short as frost climbed its chest, locking it in place. Another charged, torch blazing, and she spun, her skirt flaring as she unleashed a second wave—ice encased its arm, dousing the flame with a hiss, its weapon clattering to the dirt. "Stay down!" she snapped, her voice ringing with authority as she pivoted, freezing two more in mid-step, their bodies glistening like sculptures under the sun.
Nyaromon darted forward, its tail lashing out, wires glinting as they struck a fifth hilichurl's leg, tripping it with a yelp. "Good shot!" Barbara cheered, her heart swelling as she blasted the fallen foe, ice sealing its fate. But the remaining three closed in, their clubs raised, and she faltered—her power was vast, but her stamina wasn't infinite. A torch grazed her arm, singeing her sleeve, and she winced, the heat a sharp contrast to her frost. "Nya!" Nyaromon cried, leaping to her defense, but a hilichurl swatted it aside, sending it tumbling into the ferns.
"Enough!" Barbara shouted, her fear igniting into resolve as she clapped her hands, a surge of cold exploding outward. The air shimmered, frost spiraling in a dome around her, and the three hilichurls froze mid-strike, their masks glinting through icy veils. She staggered, panting, her breath misting as Nyaromon scrambled back to her side, unharmed but shaken. "We're okay—you're okay," she gasped, scooping it up as the forest stilled, the threat vanquished in a gallery of ice.
Meanwhile, on a winding path not far from the Whispering Forest, Lumine trudged alongside Jean, Diluc, Wendy, and Paimon, the group's boots crunching against gravel as Mondstadt's spires loomed closer. The air carried the faint tang of ozone, a remnant of their battle with Stormterror—its corruption purged, its wings freed from Abyss taint—and a weary triumph hung over them like a soft breeze. Lumine's blonde hair danced in the wind, her sword sheathed but her golden eyes bright with relief. "Finally—the Stormterror crisis is over," she said, her voice lifting as she glanced at her companions, a weight easing from her shoulders.
She'd uncovered the dragon's truth—Twalin, twisted by pain and poison, not malice—and her heart ached for its suffering. Purifying it with Jean's resolve and Wendy's lyre had been a victory sweeter than any bounty, especially with her "wanted" status fading like mist. Paimon floated beside her, her tiny hands clutching her camera, its lens still warm from capturing the fight's climax—Lumine's wind blades, Jean's Haki shockwaves, Twalin's anguished roars. "Got the best shots ever—gonna edit these into a masterpiece!" Paimon chirped, her glee infectious as she bobbed in the air.
Wendy strummed his lyre idly, its notes weaving with the wind as he grinned. "A job well done calls for a celebration—how about Galehaven Comics? Harlan's got stories to top even this!" Twalin was his old friend, a bond forged in ancient skies, and seeing it freed warmed him more than any wine. Once, he'd have toasted with dandelion brew, but now the shop's comics—One Piece, Yu-Gi-Oh—beckoned stronger, though he mused, "Pair it with a drink, and it's paradise." Lumine and Paimon thrust their hands up in unison—"Yes!"—their enthusiasm a mirror to his own.
Jean smiled, her blonde ponytail swaying as she nodded. "No objections here—after today, we've earned it." Her Haki still thrummed faintly in her veins, a gift from Harlan's shelves, and the shop's allure tugged at her too. All eyes turned to Diluc, the last holdout, his crimson coat billowing as he pinched his chin, curiosity flickering in his dark gaze. "This comic shop—is it really as wild as you claim?" he asked, his voice a low rumble as he studied them, skepticism warring with intrigue.
Along the trek, their chatter had painted Galehaven in vivid strokes—epic tales of pirates and duelists, rewards conjured from pages, a shopkeeper wielding power beyond the norm. Diluc's wine empire spanned Teyvat, its vintages gracing tables from Mondstadt to Snezhnaya, yet he'd never heard of a place doling out magic for 100,000 Mora a read. "Sounds like a tall tale—were you pulling my leg?" he'd half-joked earlier, but Jean's Haki blast and Lumine's wind dragon form against Stormterror had cracked his doubt. "Maybe there's something to it," he conceded, his interest piqued—a rare itch for a man who preferred facts over fables.
"See for yourself—it's real, and you'll be hooked," Wendy said, his grin sly as he plucked a jaunty note. Paimon nodded furiously, her starry cape fluttering. "Trust me, you'll never wanna leave—I'd live there if Harlan let me!" She paused, then added, "Oh, it's 100,000 Mora a pop—don't show up broke like Wendy did once!" Diluc waved a gloved hand, unfazed. "Money's no issue—I've got Mora to spare." Paimon's face fell, a pout forming as she muttered, "Rich jerk—Lumine and I scrape for every coin, and these two just waltz in!"
Their banter carried them into the Whispering Forest's edge, the trees parting to reveal a sunlit clearing—and a sudden commotion. "Over there—someone's fighting!" Paimon yelped, her sharp eyes catching a glint of ice amid the green. Jean followed her gaze, her breath catching as she recognized the figure. "Barbara—and hilichurls!" she gasped, her calm shattering—her sister, a healer, not a warrior, surrounded by foes. Without a word, she bolted, her Anemo Vision flaring as wind propelled her forward, a blur of gold and white.
"It's her!" Paimon squeaked, recalling Barbara from the shop, and Lumine nodded grimly. "Let's move!" The group surged after Jean, boots pounding earth, but as they crested the knoll, they skidded to a halt, jaws dropping at the scene unfolding below. Barbara stood amidst a ring of frozen hilichurls, their forms locked in ice like grim statues, her hands outstretched, frost swirling around her like a halo. Nyaromon mewed at her feet, unharmed, its tail flicking as she caught her breath, her face alight with triumph.
Jean slowed, her sword half-drawn, her voice a mix of relief and awe. "Barbara—you're… incredible." Lumine blinked, a grin tugging at her lips. "Guess Harlan's comics pack a punch—nice ice show!" Diluc stared, his skepticism melting as he muttered, "Rewards from reading… maybe I've underestimated this place." Wendy chuckled, strumming a victorious chord. "Told you—Galehaven's the real deal. Now, who's ready for round two?"
***
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