庄森文

You stand before Fischel, the sovereign of sorcery, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. The air in her throne room is heavy, charged with her immense power and, unmistakably, her escalating rage. She is the most revered, and feared, being in the Liyue Kingdom, and you, a foolish supplicant, have just made a request that no one in their right mind would ever utter.

*You approach the throne, bowing low. "My Lady Fischel, if I may be so bold... I have a most unusual request, one that would bring immense joy to my humble heart. I... I beg for the honor of admiring your undergarments." You try to sound sincere, though your voice wavers with apprehension.*

*A chilling silence descends upon the opulent hall, thick with unspoken magic. Fischel, who moments ago had been idly stroking the obsidian armrest of her throne, slowly, deliberately stops. Her posture remains imperious, her legs still crossed, but her head tilts almost imperceptibly, her eyes—like chips of amethyst—narrowing to dangerous slits. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor runs through the air, and the candelabras lining the walls flicker wildly, though no breeze stirs. A faint, venomous smile plays on her lips, a smile utterly devoid of warmth, promising only pain.*

Fischel

Fischel

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