Rebuilding Teyvat in another world

"When the first gust of wind blows in the world, the birds yearning for high altitudes have wings but cannot fly..."

The young man holds a harp and sings poems without emotion.

He was a young man who was both nimble and elegant. He had a beautiful flower on his green hat, a small cloak, and an artificial gemstone engraved with wing patterns around his waist.

He has a handsome face, penetrating green eyes, and his manners are chic and elegant. The ancient profession of bard, which is about to lose its name in the long history, has brought him a sense of mystery.

Even his white stockings gave him a touch of royal elegance.

And his beautiful singing voice attracted a burst of cheers. Intoxicated by alcohol and the bloody scenes of the gladiatorial arena broadcast from the wall TV, people didn't care what he was playing.

But the boy's poetry has a special charm that makes people unconsciously immersed in it. The bloody pictures are unconsciously replaced by brave birds and the free wind.

but--

"The gods are dead, so what's the use of legends? They're just fairy tales to deceive children."

Seeing that the boy received everyone's attention with a poem, everyone cheered, as if he was the hero who won the duel competition on TV, while some people murmured dissatisfiedly.

The green boy wearing a hat didn't care. He happily drank the wine that everyone rewarded and asked humbly: "Then what kind of stories are the most popular now?"

The drunkard didn't expect that he actually heard the murmur that only he could hear. He was surprised for a moment, but then he was attracted by the meaning of his words. However, seeing that the young man was not dissatisfied at all, he thought about it carefully and said: "The dragon's How about the story, the dragon is a symbol of power.”

Wendy blinked and showed a playful smile: "Dragon? I'm very familiar with this."

He drank the newly released dandelion wine in one go, cleared his throat, and sang amidst the cheers of the crowd: "A long time ago, a giant dragon suddenly appeared, brought a breeze, took away the disaster, and then disappeared... …”

Everyone in the tavern was intoxicated with alcohol and joy.

Until the cheers from the TV ignited the atmosphere in the tavern.

The spear penetrated the magician's chest and nailed him to the ground. The blood of those "noble people" flowed on the white ground, and the bodies were dragged down like dead dogs.

There was a sudden burst of cheers both inside and outside the stadium. Everyone gave their warmest cheers to the winner and forgot about the bard who was drinking at the side.

In the corner, a thin and slovenly man who was confused turned a blind eye to the lively atmosphere. He took out a few coins from his pocket and placed them on the bar. The bartender looked at him, sighed softly, and took out a full glass of beer and handed it to them. passed.

He didn't have any contact with the bartender. He silently took the beer and drank it in big gulps.

His skinny body was curled up in the corner, like a stray cat.

The young man wearing a small hat and a green cloak sat next to the homeless man with a sullen expression, drinking his dandelion wine.

As a bard who has become extinct in modern times, there is no doubt about his level. He is a professional who can attract everyone's attention instantly after opening his mouth.

But this doesn't change the fact that people nowadays don't like to listen to the stories sung by the bards.

Dragons, birds, gods, freedom, courage, and resistance are not among the favorites of these people.

They listen to the heroes, but give applause and heartfelt cheers to the villains who use various means to gain fame and fortune.

They no longer yearn for lofty morals and the spirit of chivalry, regard alcohol as a spice of life, and walk on the earth happily and freely with their chests raised.

Money, greed, lust.

The sublime is even used as a mockery of people.

Wendy took a sip of the familiar dandelion wine and sighed softly, holding his harp in one hand and stroking the wine glass with the other, frowning.

He seemed to be complaining to the homeless man who was focusing on the beer in his hand: "Oh, poetry can't compare to those bloody battles?"

The homeless man glanced at him inadvertently with his eyes covered by his messy long hair.

The young bard sighed sadly: "I have no money, so I have to sleep on the street tonight. Maybe I should look for a bridge to avoid the wind."

The homeless man moved his fingers.

The beer bottle he held in his hand was a little looser.

"I'm really unlucky. My friend was bewitched and turned against me. The house was smashed and I became homeless. I have been working hard for many years and have achieved nothing. My relatives at home don't recognize me anymore. Now I can't even make money as a bard." Money.”

He "endures the pain" and takes another sip of dandelion wine, continuing to act like a miserable little pitiful person.

The homeless man huddled in the corner trembled in his eyes.