Gu Sanqiu felt a chill run down his spine. If anyone on Teyvat could recognize that roar, he was certainly among them.
The roar of Lord Azhdaha and the songlike call of Dvalin were both sounds he was familiar with. This one, however, was unmistakably a dragon’s roar—yet it was hoarse, as if the throat producing it was clogged with filth. It carried the rasp of a voice that had inhaled decades of dust on a construction site.
Harsh, grating, and laced with pain and malice, the roar still held an undeniable majesty. It was the genuine sound of a dragon.
A glance at their surroundings—and the name of this place—only confirmed his growing dread.
That damn Abyss Lector… he didn’t seriously find a way to resurrect Durin, did he?
His eyes darted to the cave where Durin’s heart remained, still radiating its immense heat. He sighed in relief.
As long as it’s not a full resurrection, it’s fine.
Durin’s body had fallen to Dragonspine, where it nourished the barren snowscape into renewed vitality. Even now, his heart remained in a state of perpetual energy, bound to the Frostbearing Tree, its resilience a testament to Durin’s once-mighty life force.
If the Abyss truly managed to revive such a powerful entity—even in a skeletal state—Gu Sanqiu would have no choice but to call for reinforcements. Anything less would be suicide.
“Get ready,” he warned, casting a serious glance at Tartaglia. “This thing is a major threat. Pull out all the stops—like that armor trick from earlier.”
“Is it really that bad? Or have you figured out what’s inside that cocoon?”
“Of course.” Gu Sanqiu smirked grimly. “The Abyss brewed this monstrosity by forcing creatures to die in agony and extracting every ounce of pain, rage, and malice to forge a semi-sentient soul for the thing above.”
“It doesn’t need coherent thought or emotion—just raw hatred and an insatiable lust for bloodshed.”
“Oh, wait,” he added with a smirk, “it probably doesn’t even have a brain at this point. Let’s call it a fabricated instinct instead.”
Tartaglia rolled his eyes. “You’re dodging the question. What is it?”
“I don’t know what’s inside,” Gu Sanqiu admitted, “but the original form is obvious. It’s none other than the one who attacked Mondstadt five centuries ago—Durin, the dragon of the Abyss.”
At that, Rosalyne let out an ear-piercing screech and ascended into the sky. Waves of fire erupted from her, scorching the ground below as she unleashed a barrage of attacks on the blood cocoon.
Boom!
A blood-red claw extended from the cocoon, brushing aside her flames with a single swipe. The conflagration was extinguished instantly, snuffed out by a gale infused with Abyssal energy.
“Should’ve seen that coming,” Gu Sanqiu muttered. “Of all people, she’d lose it over Durin.”
He and Tartaglia readied their weapons, their faces grim as the cocoon’s occupant finally revealed itself.
A massive dragon emerged, its scales bathed in blood-red light, tendrils of black mist swirling across its body. The mist, likely the remnants of a fractured will, was all that animated this soulless killing machine.
Devoid of self-awareness or purpose, it was a pure weapon of slaughter.
Tartaglia’s face twisted into an excited grin. “Heh, I take back my earlier doubts. I wasn’t thrilled about this little trek up Dragonspine, but now I’m changing my mind. Fighting something like this? It’s perfect.”
“[Celestial Voyager]!”
Without hesitation, Tartaglia unleashed his ultimate ability. A massive deep-blue whale manifested, charging at the dragon’s head.
But the blood dragon didn’t move. It allowed the attack to land without resistance, as though testing its own defenses.
“Seriously?” Gu Sanqiu muttered, his eyes narrowing.
What caught his attention wasn’t the dragon’s immunity but the subtle transformation of Tartaglia’s summoned whale. Its scales now bore faint, intricate patterns reminiscent of runes—eerily similar to those of a certain Liyue legend.
Don’t tell me…
Was Tartaglia unwittingly influenced by his time in Liyue, reading ancient texts while Gu Sanqiu’s watchful gaze kept him from acting out?
But no, this didn’t feel right. Those who knew of Azhdaha were few and far between. Could it be that Tartaglia was… chatting with elderly scholars?
Gu Sanqiu shook his head. Regardless, there was no denying the transformation. The once smooth and pristine whale now resembled a relic of Liyue’s storied past.
“Tch. Mondstadt’s Stormterror crisis ends, and the Abyss gives us a blood dragon? Amusing,” Gu Sanqiu muttered before leaping into the air, spear in hand.
The blood dragon’s wings bore visible damage, still mending from the earlier talisman bombardment. It wasn’t idle—it was regenerating, waiting for its wounds to heal before attacking again.
Unfortunately for the dragon, Gu Sanqiu had no intention of letting that happen.
The moment he approached, the dragon roared, its eyes glowing black and red as twin beams of energy shot toward him.
“Heh. This old trick?” Gu Sanqiu smirked, dodging effortlessly.
His body swelled, muscles bulging as he transformed into a towering figure over four meters tall. His spear expanded in proportion, the dragon motif etched into its shaft writhing as though coming to life.
“[Rend the mountains, shatter the peaks]!”
With a mighty swing, he unleashed a crescent-shaped energy wave that struck the dragon’s head, twisting its neck violently. He followed up by driving his spear directly into one of its eyes.
“ROAR!”
The dragon’s agonized roar shook the air as it thrashed wildly. Its tail slammed into Gu Sanqiu, hurling him into the ground and sending tremors through the valley that unsteadied both Tartaglia and Rosalyne.
“Is that… really human strength?” Tartaglia muttered, stunned.
While the others recovered, a golden orb streaked across the sky, crashing into the dragon’s other eye with devastating force.
The dragon staggered again, and Tartaglia’s expression shifted from shock to a resigned deadpan.
“Another monster. I guess it’s not that Gu Sanqiu is abnormal—I’ve just been too sheltered.”
“Don’t steal my kill!” Gu Sanqiu shouted, recognizing the golden orb’s occupant.
He leapt back into the fray, swapping his spear for a staff and swinging it upward into the dragon’s jaw.
From within the golden orb, Albedo understood Gu Sanqiu’s intent. As the dragon’s head jerked back, Albedo condensed his energy, turning the orb into a hammer-like weapon that slammed down onto the dragon’s skull, momentarily freezing its massive body in place.
—
This is a fan translation of 原神之璃月奉香人 by 淡白蛋清. 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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