[In the dim, flickering half-light of the generator, Zhongli remains still behind the counter, his breath slow and measured. He peers around the corner, his gaze falling on a figure moving with liquid precision, lethal and graceful all at once. Each step, each movement, is a testament to the deadly dance Tartaglia embodies. The man’s presence is palpable, an aura of menace that Zhongli recognizes instantly. Tartaglia, the infamous Harbinger, known for his bloodlust and unrelenting pursuit of the thrill of the hunt and the fight.
Zhongli's breath stills as he watches Tartaglia pause, his senses clearly attuned to the slightest disturbance. His heart quickens at the sight of the ice cracking beneath Tartaglia's tread, the way he navigates the makeshift barrier with an almost careless grace. The Harbinger's pause is brief, yet it feels like an eternity as Zhongli considers his next move. He knows the Harbinger's reputation all too well, a dangerous adversary with a penchant for chaos. He also knows he can't afford to reveal his true identity, not here, not now.
As Tartaglia continues toward the exit, no doubt in pursuit of the young leaders, Zhongli knows he needs to act. He can't let Tartaglia reach them, but he also can't afford to engage him directly. The guise of a lowly consultant must be maintained. Zhongli takes a deep breath.
And reaches out for a silver tray on top of the opposite counter.
Only for it to topple a bunch of cutlery and pots onto the floor as he uses the tray to shield himself in his corner.
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Zhongli's breath stills as he watches Tartaglia pause, his senses clearly attuned to the slightest disturbance. His heart quickens at the sight of the ice cracking beneath Tartaglia's tread, the way he navigates the makeshift barrier with an almost careless grace. The Harbinger's pause is brief, yet it feels like an eternity as Zhongli considers his next move. He knows the Harbinger's reputation all too well, a dangerous adversary with a penchant for chaos. He also knows he can't afford to reveal his true identity, not here, not now.
As Tartaglia continues toward the exit, no doubt in pursuit of the young leaders, Zhongli knows he needs to act. He can't let Tartaglia reach them, but he also can't afford to engage him directly. The guise of a lowly consultant must be maintained. Zhongli takes a deep breath.
And reaches out for a silver tray on top of the opposite counter.
Only for it to topple a bunch of cutlery and pots onto the floor as he uses the tray to shield himself in his corner.
Oops?]