The platforms originally created to facilitate the battle against Stormterror were no longer necessary.
High above, the dragon clashed fiercely with Jia Changjiang, who had transformed into the Darkin Blade.
The greatsword collided with dragon claws, each strike unleashing immense power before they quickly disengaged.
The melody of the Holy Lyre resonated throughout the battlefield, a stark contrast to the brutal combat. The music, elegant and haunting, wove tales of the past, carrying deep emotions through its notes.
The dragon and the Darkin Blade circled one another in the air, exchanging blows with precision. Each strike left wounds, though Stormterror bore the brunt of the damage.
On Jia Changjiang’s broad shoulders, Diluc and Jean had quickly adapted to this unorthodox mode of combat.
Each clash between Jia Changjiang and Stormterror created opportunities for them to strike, chipping away at the dragon’s strength.
Stormterror, caught between the melody and the attacks, became increasingly enraged. It tried to lash out at Venti, who was seated on Jia Changjiang’s shoulder playing the harp, as well as at Jean and Diluc. But every attempt to harm them was intercepted by Jia Changjiang—whether with his greatsword or the outstretched protection of his wings.
Not a single attack reached the group under his care.
Jia Changjiang’s sword didn’t merely injure Stormterror. Each strike drained the dragon’s strength, even drawing out the curse and corrupted blood coursing through its body.
The stolen energy flowed into Jia Changjiang, healing his own wounds.
This was the power of the Darkin Blade—a cursed weapon of unrelenting carnage.
Aatrox, the Darkin Blade, grew stronger with each drop of blood spilled. When the Blood Well reached its peak and Cataclysm was unleashed, not even death could halt his destructive path.
To face him was to court death.
But the one battling Dvalin now wasn’t Aatrox—it was Jia Changjiang.
Jia Changjiang didn’t aim to kill Stormterror. Instead, he deliberately wielded his sword to draw out the dragon’s corruption and poison, purging them from its body.
And Lumine, with her purifying powers, cleansed these malevolent forces, helping Jia Changjiang maintain his clarity of mind.
Slowly, Stormterror began to regain some semblance of reason, though anger still clouded its heart.
“Even now, do you think your song can deceive me, Barbatos?!”
The dragon roared at Venti. “Do you wish to repeat what happened a century ago?”
“And now, just like that poisoned dragon, you see me as the same, don’t you?!”
Stormterror’s voice was filled with accusation, but it showed no intent to listen to Venti’s explanation.
Blinded by rage, it ignored the words and emotions embedded in the music and song.
Though Venti had tirelessly sought to save his friend and companion, Dvalin’s anger had clouded his perception, leading to this tragic misunderstanding.
Deceived by the Abyss, consumed by fury, Dvalin refused to hear the melody meant to reach his heart.
“Do you plan to treat me as nothing more than a wicked dragon, a threat to Mondstadt, and hunt me down?! Is that your goal?!”
Stormterror’s fury drowned out all reasoning. It had already convinced itself that Venti and the others were there to kill it, the belief entrenched by its seething emotions.
No ordinary method could breach this mental wall.
But there was another way—to knock some sense into it.
Jia Changjiang shot forward. His claw-like hands, transformed by the Darkin Blade’s form, seized Stormterror’s neck and hurled the dragon into the distant clouds.
“Dragon of the East Wind! Fight me! And while you’re at it, listen to Venti’s song!”
Holding Stormterror’s throat tightly, Jia Changjiang endured as the dragon’s claws sank deep into his flesh. Yet, he did not loosen his grip. Instead, he swung the hilt of his greatsword like a hammer, striking Stormterror’s head repeatedly to prevent it from unleashing another breath attack.
If Dvalin thought Jia Changjiang and his companions were here to hunt it…
The simplest solution was to prove otherwise through sheer strength.
Defeat it. Make it understand that they had the power to kill it—but chose not to.
This was Mondstadt, the land of freedom. And Jia Changjiang would grant Dvalin freedom in the most straightforward way possible—through overwhelming might.
This was the purpose of his power.
Propelling Stormterror through the sky, Jia Changjiang slammed the dragon into the clouds. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of several familiar figures.
Abyss Mages.
“Tch, insects!” The lingering influence of the Darkin Blade flared within Jia Changjiang as he swung his massive blade toward one of the mages.
One Abyss Mage attempted to block the strike with an elemental shield, but the colossal sword, imbued with Deathblight, cleaved through the shield and the mage as if slicing through butter. The lifeless body plummeted to the ground.
Terrified, the other Abyss Mages quickly teleported away, though Jia Changjiang managed to impale one with the tip of his sword before they escaped.
“Now, the pesky bugs are gone!” Jia Changjiang’s gaze returned to Stormterror. “Let’s continue our fight!”
The fleeing Abyss Mages didn’t dare look back. Their priority was to report what had happened to the rest of the Abyss Order—and their prince.
The power of the Darkin Blade Demon was overwhelming.
The Blood Well within the greatsword had already been filled with Dvalin’s blood, granting Jia Changjiang even greater strength and regenerative power. The longer the battle raged, the stronger he became.
But Dvalin, worn down by prolonged combat, was nearing exhaustion. Unable to keep up with Jia Changjiang’s escalating strength, the dragon began to falter.
Finally, Jia Changjiang pinned Stormterror to one of the few remaining intact platforms. Holding the dragon down, he let Lumine and the others leap off his shoulders.
The fight was over.
Both Jia Changjiang’s demon form and Stormterror’s body bore numerous wounds, each a testament to the ferocity of their battle.
Lumine wasted no time, leaping onto Stormterror’s back. Her purifying powers immediately began to take effect, gradually healing the lingering effects of the poisoned blood.
Venti, watching his friend and companion reduced to this state, approached Dvalin’s head with a heavy heart.
“Dvalin.”
“It’s over. You don’t have to suffer anymore.”
—
This is a fan translation of 武器大师在原神绝不死于徒手 by 徐人双 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!
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