Dimensional Slash, a rare mastery of blade and void, gleamed in Xander's arsenal.
Tartaglia, seasoned by years of strife, had never faced such a perilous strike.
Only battle-honed instincts spared him from being carved apart.
"Not bad—you slipped away," Xander mused, a faint smirk curling his lips.
"Let's see you dodge a few more," he taunted, Shadowfang twitching in his grip.
He drew the blade slightly, unleashing a flurry of spatial cuts.
Tartaglia cursed under his breath, a Snezhnayan oath lost to the wind.
He darted and weaved, blue slashes nipping at his heels like hounds.
One grazed his coat, tearing fabric and nearly baring his shame.
Humiliation stung, mingling with the thrill of such a foe.
Victory demanded his Foul Legacy unleashed in full fury.
Yet Liyue loomed too near—such a ruckus would ripple back.
His schemes, freshly laid, couldn't afford suspicion's glare.
A misstep now might unravel his grand design.
As he weighed the risk, Xander sheathed his blade with a sigh.
"Enough for today—I've no time to waste on you," he said.
He turned away, leaving the quarry's dust in his wake.
Tartaglia's escalation loomed inevitable, a fight Xander foresaw.
In the game's tale, Lumine bested him with dual elements at this stage.
B-tier at best, even fully armed—a draw with Xander's peak.
He'd prevail, but the hassle outweighed the prize.
Why brawl when Wanmin Kitchen's fare and wine awaited?
A fresh spoof beckoned, a better use of his hours.
"Had my fill of fun," Tartaglia shrugged, grin fading fast.
Xander's retreating form stirred a flicker of unease.
A formidable stray, unbound by Liyue's leash—trouble, perhaps.
Back in Liyue, Xander cashed in his commission with swift efficiency.
Wanmin Kitchen welcomed him, a table laden with hearty dishes and a jug of wine.
Now, the third broadcast loomed—who'd be his next jest's star?
Keqing, Beidou, Ningguang—Liyue's own—had borne the last two.
Time to roam beyond, to Mondstadt or Inazuma's shores.
Choice gnawed at him, a vexing fork in his playful path.
Then inspiration struck—why not Tartaglia, fresh from their clash?
A Snezhnayan harbinger, soon Liyue's adopted son, ripe for mockery.
He chuckled darkly, the decision settling with wicked glee.
A memory search conjured the perfect spoof for his foe.
The third creation sparked to life, Teyvat's stage set anew.
"Teyvat's Second Creation Broadcast is live—miss me, dear viewers?" it sang.
The familiar chaos flared, pulling all into its embrace.
Nahida joins. Gorou joins. Yae Miko joins, the roll call began.
Xinyan joins. Chongyun joins. Amber joins, it chimed on.
Eula joins. Raiden Shogun joins. Faruzan joins, names cascaded.
Lumine joins, the Traveler's presence sealing the throng.
Arataki Itto: "Ha! I was craving this madness—it's here!" he boomed.
Paimon: "Who's the unlucky soul this time?" she chirped.
Zhongli: "By universal reason, any might be chosen," he mused.
Hu Tao: "Stating the obvious? Three orders, or I bill you," she teased.
Jean: "I'm tense—what if it's me?" she fretted.
Klee: "Pick Klee! It's fun—I want to shine on screen!" she bubbled.
Xander grinned—Klee's plea noted for a future jest.
For now, Tartaglia's turn loomed, a harbinger ripe to roast.
The Shadowfang Blade pulsed, eager for the mischief ahead.
Liyue bustled beyond, blind to the storm he'd brew.
Wanmin's warmth cradled him, wine fueling his wicked muse.
Tartaglia's pride would bend, a spectacle for Teyvat's delight.
The broadcast hummed, its next draw a prize yet unseen.
***
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