Xander woke to morning light spilling through his window, a fleeting promise of beauty.
The illusion shattered—shrieking children and dockside clamor pierced the calm.
Time to move, he resolved, today marking his escape from this din.
First, he squared the landlord's bill for the chair-smashed hole in the floor.
Half a million Mora jangled in his system space, shy of a city-center home.
A larger rental at the pier's edge and Liyue's heart struck the right balance.
He shunned the bustling core anyway—too loud, too crowded for his taste.
Luggage posed no burden; all he valued nestled safely in his system.
For 2,400 Mora monthly, he claimed a thirty-square-meter haven.
Perfect for one, spacious yet manageable, no cleaning woes to dread.
A fresh set of furniture sealed the deal, his new lair taking shape.
"Still a ways to go," he mused, perched on his indestructible stall chair.
No screens, no consoles, no walls adorned with art or figurines.
Teyvat offered trinkets—like Barbatos statues—but none stirred his soul.
A spark flared: craft Teyvat's icons, sell them, and rake in Mora.
Mondstadt, Liyue, Inazuma—each brimmed with god-worshipping devotees.
Versions galore danced in his mind: standard, casual, fishing, reclusive.
Add penniless, glutton, and an opulent deluxe edition for good measure.
The Mora would flow like Liyue's rivers, a fortune in miniature gods.
Risk loomed, though—offend the wrong deity, and retribution might follow.
Wendy, Morax, the Raiden Shogun—poor yet prickly, all three.
He'd end up their purse, like Tartaglia, bled dry by their whims.
Entangled by Zhongli's streetwise guile, his savings would vanish.
The figurine scheme teetered—real models demanded real permissions.
Image rights meant groveling at divine doors, a costly pilgrimage.
For now, he shelved the dream, his purse lighter from moving costs.
A commission beckoned, a chance to replenish his dwindling Mora.
At the Adventurers' Guild, Ningguang's broadcast probe still hung, unsolved.
Keqing's visit had cleared his name; Ningguang's doubts surely faded.
Her task would linger, a dusty relic until the Guild's end.
Whispers avoided Ningguang's spoof, turning to Keqing and Beidou instead.
Her authority towered—offend her, and Liyue turned its back.
Keqing or Beidou might thrash you; Ningguang's wrath exiled you.
Merchants eager to curry her favor would starve you of trade.
Luck smiled—a Feiyun Chamber job glimmered on the board.
Hillichurls had raided their Tianheng Mountain mine, west of the city.
A routine plague in Teyvat, these feral ambushes were old news.
The Millelith guarded key paths, but the wilds defied their reach.
Adventurers like Xander thrived on such chaos, culling the untamed.
Tianheng loomed close, just past the west gate—prime for his blade.
The commission's pay gleamed, a tailored windfall for his coffers.
He claimed it, striding out Liyue's west gate with purpose.
In-game, a bridge spanned here; reality raised a walled bastion.
Monsters roamed Teyvat—unfortified cities courted ruin.
Beyond the gate, a bluestone road stretched, Millelith posted ahead.
Xander veered up the mountain, a shortcut fueled by arcane speed.
Blue afterimages trailed him, a blur against the rugged slope.
In half an hour, he reached the mine, its marker etched in his mind.
The Shadowfang Blade hummed at his side, eager for the fray.
Hillichurls awaited, a familiar foe in Teyvat's endless dance.
His new home stood behind him, a step up from squalor's grip.
The figurine dream simmered, a goldmine tethered to risk.
Liyue buzzed beyond, blind to his schemes and swift ascent.
The stall chair's absurdity lingered, a throne he'd yet to wield.
This commission would steady him, a foothold in his grander play.
***
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