Chapter Text
The Snezhnayan wind cut like knives.
Diluc had stopped feeling it weeks ago. Stopped feeling much of anything except rage and the grim satisfaction of watching Fatui fall.
Three months since his father's death, since he'd learned the truth. That the Fatui were responsible, that the Delusion his father used had been their creation, their trap.
Three months of hunting them across Teyvat, following leads, leaving nothing but bodies and destruction in his wake.
And now he was in their homeland. In the heart of Snezhnaya itself.
Suicide, some would call it. Diluc called it efficiency.
He crouched on the snow-covered hillside, watching the Fatui patrol moving through the valley below. Six operatives. Standard formation. They were getting careless this far from the cities, assuming they were safe on their own territory.
They were wrong.
Diluc's hand moved to his claymore. His delusion pulsed with heat, flames barely contained, begging to be released. He'd gotten better at controlling it since that night. Had to. The fire wanted to consume everything, wanted to burn until nothing remained.
Some days, Diluc wanted that too.
He was preparing to move, calculating angles and approach, when movement on the opposite hillside caught his eye.
Another figure. Alone. Watching the same patrol.
Fatui, he had to be. No one else would be out here, and the way he stood- confident, casual, like he owned the frozen wasteland, screamed military training.
Diluc shifted his position slightly, getting a better look. The figure was too far away for details. Maybe a mile, maybe more. Just a silhouette against the white landscape.
The figure's head turned, directly toward Diluc.
For a moment, they stared at each other across the impossible distance. Diluc's hand tightened on his claymore. Had he been spotted? At this range? That shouldn't be possible.
The figure raised one hand in an almost lazy gesture, and smiled. Even from this distance, Diluc could see the flash of white teeth, the glint of something sharp and amused.
Then the figure made a circular motion with his finger. Slow. Deliberate.
Turn around.
Every instinct screamed trap, but something in that gesture, that cocky confidence, made Diluc spin.
Just in time to see the Ruin Guard bearing down on him.
Diluc threw himself to the side as a massive fist crashed into the ground where he'd been crouching. Snow and frozen earth exploded outward. The Ruin Guard pivoted, its mechanical eye focusing on him with that terrible, empty precision.
Where had it come from? Diluc had scouted this area. There had been nothing.
No time to think. The Guard was already attacking again.
Diluc's delusion flared. Flames erupted from his claymore as he met the machine's assault. Fire against metal. Heat against cold. Each impact sent shockwaves through his arms, but he didn't stop, didn't slow.
The rage that always simmered beneath his skin surged forward. This wasn't what he'd come here for-he wanted Fatui blood, not ancient machinery-but anything that stood in his way would fall.
The Ruin Guard launched missiles. Diluc dove and rolled, came up swinging. His blade carved through one of the Guard's legs, metal screaming as it gave way. The machine stumbled, and Diluc pressed his advantage, flames consuming his vision as he struck again and again and again.
When it finally fell, Diluc was breathing hard, his clothes singed, his muscles burning from the cold and exertion.
He spun back toward the opposite hillside.
Empty.
The figure was gone. And when Diluc looked down at the valley. The Fatui patrol had vanished too.
"Damn it!"
His voice echoed across the empty landscape. How long had the fight taken? Five minutes? Ten? Long enough for six trained operatives to disappear into the Snezhnayan wilderness.
They'd been warned. That figure, whoever he was, had warned them.
But he'd also warned Diluc about the Ruin Guard.
Why?
Diluc stood in the snow, surrounded by the smoking remains of ancient machinery, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
A Fatui operative had spotted him from over a mile away. Had gestured a warning instead of attacking. Had watched him fight instead of taking advantage of the distraction.
And then had vanished, taking Diluc's targets with him.
Diluc looked at the empty hillside, at the tracks in the snow leading away from where the figure had stood.
He should let it go. Move on. Find the patrol another time, find different targets. Snezhnaya was full of Fatui. He didn't need these specific ones.
But something gnawed at him. That casual confidence. That knowing smile. The warning that had saved his life even as it cost him his prey.
Who are you?
------
Diluc tracked them for three days.
The patrol had scattered after the Ruin Guard incident, making them harder to follow. But Diluc was patient, persistent, and very, very angry.
He found two of them in a small outpost. Killed them quickly, efficiently. No pleasure in it, just necessity. They wore the Fatui insignia. That was enough.
But the others had vanished. And so had the figure from the hillside.
Diluc found himself thinking about him more than he should. In the cold nights huddled in abandoned buildings, warming himself with his delusion. In the quiet moments between hunts, when the rage subsided enough for thought.
That smile. That gesture. Turn around.
He'd been playing with Diluc. Warning him and stealing his prey in the same motion. Showing off his awareness, his control of the situation.
It should have made Diluc furious. It did make him furious, but it also intrigued him in a way nothing had in months.
Three months of killing. Three months of rage and grief and blood in this hellish landscape. Months of Fatui operatives who fought or fled or begged, all of them the same in the end. Just obstacles between Diluc and his revenge.
But this one was different. This one had looked at him across an impossible distance and had to audacity to smile and save his life while sabotaging him.
This one, Diluc realized, was going to be a problem.
Diluc wanted to find him. Needed to find him. Not just to kill him, though that was part of it, but to understand.
To look him in the eyes up close and figure out what that smile had meant and prove that the casual confidence was unearned. That Diluc was the better fighter. That saving his life had been luck, not skill.
To...
Diluc stopped that thought. He didn't know where it was going, but he knew it was dangerous.
Focus. He was here for revenge. For justice. For his father.
Not for some cocky Fatui operative who'd managed to surprise him once.
As Diluc moved through the snow, tracking the remaining patrol members, he couldn't stop searching the distant hillsides.
Couldn't stop wondering if somewhere out there, someone was watching him back.
Couldn't stop remembering that smile.
------
Two weeks passed. Diluc found signs of him everywhere and nowhere.
A Fatui patrol that scattered before Diluc could engage. Tracks in the snow that led to nothing. The feeling of being watched that never materialized into confrontation.
He was being avoided. Deliberately.
That should have been fine. Helpful, even. One less Fatui to deal with, one less threat to watch for.
Instead, it made Diluc's frustration grow.
He'd started asking about him. Carefully. The few times he'd left survivors- people who might have information- he'd asked about a tall Fatui operative skilled enough to spot enemies at distance, confident enough to play games in the middle of operations.
Some had no idea what he was talking about. A few had looked nervous and refused to answer. One had laughed before dying and said, "You're looking for a Harbinger? You're better off dead, son."
A Harbinger.
That...complicated things.
Diluc knew about the Harbingers. Eleven of the most powerful, most dangerous individuals in the Fatui. Commanders who answered only to the Tsaritsa herself. Each one worth a small army.
If the figure from the hillside was a Harbinger, Diluc should run. Should abandon this hunt and focus on easier prey.
Instead, he found himself hunting harder.
If a Harbinger had looked at him and smiled instead of attacking, that meant something. Meant Diluc was worth noticing. Worth playing with. Worth something.
And Diluc needed to prove them wrong, to show that he wasn't prey. Wasn't anything except death for everyone who wore that damned insignia.
Even Harbingers could bleed.
------
Diluc found him in a border town three weeks after their first encounter.
Not by tracking or planning, but by pure chance. Diluc was scouting a warehouse suspected of storing Delusions when he saw him.
The same figure from the hillside. Closer now. Real.
Tall, lean. Young, maybe Diluc's age, maybe younger. Orange hair that stood out against the snow like embers. A red scarf, a gray uniform that marked him as Fatui but not which rank.
And that smile. The same one from across the distance. Sharp and knowing and dangerous.
He was talking to a merchant, haggling over something, completely relaxed. Like he wasn't in the same town as someone who'd been hunting his people for months.
Diluc's hand moved to his claymore.
The figure's eyes flicked to him. Just for a moment. His smile widened.
Then he turned back to the merchant, completed his transaction, and walked away. Not running. Not hurrying. Just...walking. Down an alley. Out of sight.
It felt like an invitation.
Diluc should have let him go. Should have stuck to his original plan, investigated the warehouse, found actual targets.
Instead, he followed.
The alley was narrow, lined with old buildings. Fresh snow on the ground showed clear tracks. The figure was heading away from the town center, toward the outskirts.
Diluc's rage burned hot, but his mind stayed calculating. This was clearly a trap. The figure knew Diluc was following. Wanted him to follow. Was leading him somewhere specific. The smart thing to do would be to turn back.
Diluc kept walking.
The tracks led out of town, into the woods. The trees were thick here, ancient pines heavy with snow. The light was fading, evening coming fast in the north.
Diluc followed the tracks deeper. His hand never left his claymore. His delusion burned hot, ready to ignite at a moment's notice.
A clearing opened ahead. Small, natural, ringed by trees.
And in the center, waiting, was the same figure.
Up close, Diluc could see details. The sharp angles of his face. The battle-worn quality of his uniform. The way he stood with his weight balanced, ready to move in any direction. A fighter's stance, but relaxed. Casual.
Like this was a game.
"Took you long enough," he said, sounding almost giddy. His voice was younger than Diluc expected. "I was starting to think you didn't want to find me."
He spoke in relatively fluent Common, though it carried a heavy Snezhnayan accent. Beneath it, there was almost a mix of other accents, like he could slip into any language in an instant if he wanted to.
"You're Fatui," Diluc said. His voice came out rough, harsh from weeks of disuse. "That's all I need to know."
"Ooh, right to business. No 'hello'? No 'thank you for saving my life'? No 'what's your name'?"
The figure tilted his head, smile never wavering.
"Though you might already know that last one. I know you've been asking about me. I'm flattered, really."
Diluc clenched his jaw. "So you are the Harbinger everyone has been warning me about."
He took a low, mocking bow. "Tartaglia. Eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers, in the flesh. Though my coworkers call me Childe." His eyes glinted with something predatory. "Such a shame you won't be alive long enough to fully appreciate my presence."
"Bold words." Diluc drew his claymore. Flames erupted along the blade. "For someone who's about to die."
"See, that's what I like about you." Childe didn't draw a weapon. Didn't move at all. Just stood there, smiling. "No hesitation. No fear. You see a Harbinger and think 'I can take him.' Pure confidence. Or stupidity. Haven't decided which yet."
"Why did you warn me?" The question came out before Diluc could stop it. "About the Ruin Guard. You could have let it kill me."
"Could have. Didn't want to." Childe shrugged. "You're interesting. Haven't had interesting in a while. But all the Fatui you've been killing are... boring. Cannon fodder. You're here hunting us, slaughtering your way through our ranks, and no one even notices because they're all so damn expendable." He took a step forward. "But you noticed me. And I noticed you. So here we are."
"Here we are," Diluc agreed. "And now I kill you."
Childe grinned. "You can try."
Diluc attacked.
He moved fast. Faster than most people expected from someone carrying a claymore. His blade carved through the air trailing fire, aiming for Childe's chest.
Childe moved faster.
Water materialized around him, forming blades, weapons, shields. He parried Diluc's strike with what looked like an effortless gesture, redirecting the force, spinning away.
"Oh, you're strong," Childe said, voice bright with genuine delight. "This is going to be fun."
------
They fought like the world was ending. Fire and water. Claymore and hydro blades. Diluc's rage and Childe's joy.
Every parry, every strike, every near-miss made that smile wider. He laughed when Diluc almost caught him with a flame burst. Grinned when his water blade sliced through Diluc's coat.
"You're trained," Childe observed, dancing back from a heavy strike. "Really trained. Not just in element wielding. Actual technique. Where'd you learn that?"
Diluc didn't answer. Didn't waste breath on words. Just attacked again, flames burning hotter, strikes coming faster.
Childe matched him. Countered him. Every move Diluc made, Childe had an answer.
It was infuriating. It was exhilarating.
Diluc hadn't fought anyone this skilled since- since before. Since when sparring had been fun, not fury. Since when combat had been a challenge, not a release.
"There it is," Childe said, blocking another strike. "That look in your eyes. You're not thinking about revenge right now. You're thinking about winning. About beating me. About proving you're better."
"Shut. Up." Diluc snarled in response.
"Make me."
Diluc tried. Archons, he tried. But Childe was like water. Impossible to pin down, flowing around every attack, adapting to every strategy.
And worse, Diluc was tiring. Weeks of poor sleep, poor food, constant fighting. His body was running on rage and stubbornness, and those were finally failing him.
Childe noticed. Of course he noticed.
"Getting tired?" he asked, not even breathing hard. "We can take a break if you want. Continue this another time."
"I said shut up!"
Diluc poured everything he had into one massive attack. Flames erupted from his blade, from his body, from the very air around him. A phoenix of fire, diving for its prey.
Childe met it with a wave of water that extinguished the flames in a burst of steam.
When the steam cleared, Diluc was on his knees, breathing hard, vision swimming.
And Childe was standing over him, completely unharmed, that infuriating smile still in place.
"Good fight," he said. "Really good. Haven't enjoyed myself that much in months. We should do this again sometime."
Diluc tried to stand, to attack, to do anything. But his body wouldn't cooperate. He'd pushed too hard, burned too hot. His flames flickered and died, leaving him cold for the first time in weeks.
"Now, normally this is where I'd kill you," Childe continued, crouching down to Diluc's level. "That's how this works, right? You hunt us, we defend ourselves, someone dies. Simple."
"Then do it." Diluc's voice was rough. "Get it over with."
"See, that's the thing." Childe tilted his head, studying Diluc's face with unsettling intensity. "I could. But you're interesting. And I like interesting. Hate to waste it."
"I won't stop." Diluc forced the words out through gritted teeth. "I'll keep hunting you. Keep hunting all of you. Until every Fatui who had anything to do with my father's death is dead."
"Your father?" Something shifted in Childe's expression. "That's what this is about? Revenge?"
Childe stood, looking down at Diluc with something that might have been understanding. "Yeah, that'll do it. Revenge is a hell of a motivator."
"So you understand why I can't stop."
"I do. But see, here's the thing," Childe crouched down again, this time close enough that Diluc could see the exact shade of blue in his eyes. "I don't care. About your revenge, about whatever or whoever drove you here, about any of it. What I care about is that you gave me the best fight I've had in months. I want more."
"Then kill me, or capture me."
"Neither." Childe's smile turned sharp. "I'm going to do something much worse. I'm going to let you live, and I'm going to make sure we meet again. This isn't over. Not even close."
He stood and turned to walk away.
"Wait!" Diluc tried to move, to stop him, but his body still wouldn't cooperate.
Childe looked back over his shoulder. "You need a better coat. That one's shredded. And you're bleeding from," he counted. "-at least three places. Try not to die on your way back to wherever you're staying. Would be a waste."
"I'll find you again," Diluc managed. "And next time-."
"Next time will be just as fun. I'm looking forward to it." Childe's smile was genuine, warm even. "See you around, firebird."
And then he was gone, disappearing into the trees, leaving Diluc alone in the clearing.
Bleeding, exhausted, defeated.
And thinking about that smile.
------
Diluc made it back to his current safehouse, an abandoned cabin on the outskirts of another town, through sheer stubbornness.
His wounds weren't as bad as they could have been. Childe had been holding back. The realization stung worse than the injuries.
The Harbinger could have killed him. Should have killed him. Instead, he'd played. Had enjoyed himself. Had called it fun.
Diluc collapsed onto the cabin's one bed, not bothering to remove his torn coat or tend his wounds. Just lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to understand what had just happened
He'd found the figure from the hillside. Had fought him. Had lost.
And the Harbinger had let him live just because he was "interesting."
Diluc's hand clenched into a fist. He should be furious. Should be planning his next move, figuring out how to win next time.
Instead, he was thinking about the way Childe moved. The perfect technique. The joy in his eyes during combat. The way he'd crouched down to Diluc's level, close enough to-.
Diluc stopped that thought.
He was here for revenge. For his father. For justice, not some Harbinger who fought like water and smiled like sin.
But as exhaustion finally pulled him under, his last thought was of blue eyes and that infuriating smile.
And the promise: See you around, firebird.
Diluc fell asleep hating that some part of him was looking forward to it.