In young Venti's vocabulary, the word Barbatos meant freedom.
So when it came time to name the wind spirit before him, that was the first word that came to mind.
Now, the wind spirit Barbatos looked at young Venti, utterly perplexed.
Why was he staring at the towering walls with such longing?
Why was he gazing at the fierce storms with such yearning?
Did this boy named Venti have a particular fondness for walls and storms?
What a peculiar taste.
Barbatos circled around the boy a few times, then fixed its attention on the harp in his hands.
"Thank you, Venti. I really like this name."
"Can you keep singing?"
"I love listening to your songs and the sound of your harp. And—there's elemental power in your music, too."
Barbatos had discovered that by lingering near the boy's songs and harp music, it could absorb the surrounding Anemo power faster and in greater quantities.
In a few years, it might gather enough Anemo energy to form a physical body and become a true, powerful god.
But Barbatos did not listen to the boy's music because it wanted to grow stronger.
It listened because it truly loved it.
Hearing this, the boy was overjoyed.
This was the first time he had met someone who appreciated his poetry.
So he sat back down beneath the high walls, facing the storms, and played his harp.
He sang his songs of freedom.
"Great god of wind—"
"With a wave of your hand, drive away these raging storms—"
"Leave this tower—"
"Let me see the gray sky, let me see the black earth, let me see the birds flying free—"
"Free god of wind—"
In young Venti's heart, the legendary god of wind represented freedom.
As he played his harp, his clear voice sang songs of freedom.
As he sang, he gazed at the walls before him.
It was as if his gaze could pierce through them to see the gray sky, the black earth, and the birds flying free.
Everything seemed like a dream.
But just as young Venti was singing with all his heart, the wind spirit Barbatos, which had been lingering by his side, suddenly interrupted him.
"Wrong, wrong—"
"You sang it wrong—"
"How could the sky be gray? How could the earth be black?"
Though Barbatos had only been born recently, as a wind spirit of freedom, it could easily scale the high walls and pass through the raging storms to see the world beyond.
Hearing Barbatos's voice, young Venti froze.
He had sung it wrong?
Was the sky outside truly not gray?
Was the earth outside truly not black?
He looked up at the sky above the tower city.
He saw the sky shrouded by fierce storms—indeed gray, completely blocking the heavens.
The land beneath the tower city was dark and barren, unable to grow any crops.
He paused, then suddenly asked eagerly, "Have you seen the world outside?"
Barbatos said proudly, "Of course I have—"
"Don't forget, I'm a powerful god of wind. I can freely scale the walls and easily pass through the storms."
"Isn't it only natural that I've seen the world outside?"
But Barbatos did not understand why the boy named Venti was so excited at the mention of the outside world.
Young Venti said urgently, "Inside the tower, the sky I see is clearly gray."
"Inside the tower, the earth I see is clearly black."
"How could my song be wrong?"
His voice was filled with urgency and confusion.
Barbatos scoffed.
"Do you think the sky inside this tower is the whole sky?"
"It's just the shadow cast by the storms. The real sky is a vast, endless blue—so beautiful."
"Do you think the barren land inside the tower is the whole earth?"
"It's just one corner of it. The real earth is lush and green, with towering trees and endless grasslands."
To Barbatos, blue sky and green earth were common knowledge for any god.
Yet the people inside the tower did not even know this.
Hearing this, young Venti was at a loss. He slumped to the ground in despair.
The poems he had been singing—they were all wrong?
The sky wasn't gray, but blue?
The earth wasn't black, but green?
Then, suddenly, his face lit up again.
He looked eagerly at the faint breeze beside him and said excitedly, "Barbatos—"
"I'll play my harp for you. I'll sing my poems for you. And in exchange, will you tell me what the world beyond the walls is like?"
Young Venti was filled with anticipation.
Even if he could not leave the tower now, even if he could not see the world outside, just hearing Barbatos describe it would be enough.
But Barbatos was a god. Why would it take orders from a human?
Still—thinking of the kindness the boy had shown in giving it a name, in singing for it, in playing for it, and seeing the boy's earnest plea…
Well—
The merciful Wind Spirit Barbatos would graciously grant the boy's request.
"Then it's settled. I'll tell you what the world outside looks like, and you'll sing poems and play your harp for me."
"For a thousand years, ten thousand years—you can't break this promise!"
As they made this pact, Barbatos secretly rejoiced.
Now it could listen to the boy's songs and harp music every day.
Just the thought filled it with joy.
The boy was equally happy. "It's a promise!"
Then, young Venti quickly rewrote his songs, correcting the errors.
As he played his harp, he sang:
"Great god of wind—"
"With a wave of your hand, drive away these raging storms—"
"Leave this tower—"
"Let me see the blue sky, let me see the green earth, let me see the birds flying free—"
"Free god of wind—"
With the songs revised, young Venti sang with even greater passion and played his harp with even greater fervor.
It was as if he could truly see the endless blue sky and the boundless green earth.
His eyes shone with hope, with longing for freedom.
Even the wind spirit Barbatos, lingering by the boy's side, felt a surge of power from the new songs and music.
Barbatos was curious.
Blue sky, green earth—these were common knowledge.
Why did they inspire such power in young Venti?
When the boy finally tired of singing, it was Barbatos's turn to describe the world beyond the walls.
"Outside the walls, there are so many beautiful things—"
"There are birds flying free, soaring high into the clouds—"
"There's a sky without a trace of cloud, a vast, endless blue—"
"There's earth covered in green grass, stretching endlessly beneath your feet—"
"There are great trees with lush branches, growing taller than these walls if left uncut—"
"There are winding streams, their gentle murmur a kind of music too—"
...
Listening to Barbatos describe the world outside, young Venti sat quietly, gripping his harp tightly.
In his mind, he saw the endless blue sky and the boundless green earth.
His longing for freedom, for the world beyond the walls, grew stronger than ever.