A step too late—
The Vortex Vanquisher came with peerless might, dragging a molten-gold tail through the air like a falling star—but no matter how fast a meteor flies, it was still a step too late.
Ganyu and Bosacius were both disciples of Cloud Retainer; of course she knew how to operate the Fantastic Compass. Her blood was half-adeptus, half-human—mortal breath and adeptal aura gathering together. The Compass resonated with her and shuddered.
Space itself shuddered with it.
No one had foreseen this. It all happened too fast. One heartbeat, the skies were clear and winds were fair; the next, heaven and earth felt switched.
The gilt hue in Ganyu's eyes grew ever brighter—like a blazing sunset; a blood-red radiance spread. From within the Fantastic Compass, the tide of karmic filth suppressed for two thousand four hundred years poured forth.
In an instant, heaven dimmed and sun and moon went dark. The Vortex Vanquisher sank into the filth, swallowed and corroded. The rock lance withered, its force scourged away by half, and when it struck Ganyu it did no more than make her body tremble.
The Compass's seal was loosening, crumbling. The space beneath it slowly emerged before their eyes—ten-thousands of layers of abyss below.
The mountain that Bosacius had become was breaking apart. Boulders split, then split again, into sand-fine grains drifting on the air. From the mountain's foot, foul and shadowed filth spread upward, climbing high!
Ganyu stood at the very center of the filth. The roaring foulness swirled around her. Pained, desolate murmurs rang in everyone's ears.
She seemed to be suffering—but the corners of her mouth curved in a smile. Clutching the hem at the Compass, that sickly gleam in her eyes hid a fathomless grief.
"No…" she murmured, "don't…"
"I don't want this. I don't want it…"
In this moment there was nothing of an adeptus about her.
Seino Yaku stared at Ganyu within the heart of the filth… He gritted his teeth; a fine cold sweat slid down his cheek. The ancient, bone-deep pressure of the filth weighed on his shoulders, making his breath run ragged.
It was all too sudden… too abrupt.
No cadence, no buildup.
He felt a warm, soft hand close around his. He turned. Miss Lumine watched him intently and shook her head.
Lumine pulled Seino Yaku behind her. Her left hand dropped to the hilt of God Cutter; she exhaled slowly, golden eyes reflecting Ganyu's profile.
The filth was breaking free without pause; they could already see the abyss—already see that mountain cracking apart.
…So it had come to this.
"Hah."
Mr. Zhongli—no, the Geo Archon himself—clicked his tongue without a change of expression. Even for him, this was troublesome. Truly, grinding, erosive filth is the most intractable thing under heaven.
Zhongli did not fear the filth's power—he had been the sovereign of slaughter in the mortal realm. If the filth broke free, it would be but another battle.
What he feared was the wraiths and monsters refusing to face him, instead streaming out from The Chasm into the world—hundreds of thousands of strands of filth seeping into Liyue, merging into the homes of its people—
Polluting the land beyond remedy.
His fear came true.
The filth now seeping out did not linger here. They shot skyward, reaching the mouth of the abyss in a blink. From afar, molten auric torrents spilled from that maw, turning the sky a sickly yellow.
They must be held here.
Zhongli's golden eyes slipped closed. His lips parted. He intoned softly, "Stabilize."
World-high pillars of stone dropped from the heavens—down to the deepest layer of The Chasm, up to the sky. Golden pillars split the clouds, light flowing upon them. Filth battered the stony bulwarks; gold rippled; the pillars thrummed in unison.
He could suppress the filth for a time—but their breaking free was only a question of when.
Archon War, Immortal-God War.
Mortal filth, Yaksha filth…
There was too much of it—vast, tangled, chaotic. Pure force could not exorcise filth; nor did Zhongli wield the arts of exorcism.
If it could be gathered into one, if given fixed form, the Geo Archon could slay it.
But there were too many.
Only now—only faced with this heaven-blotting calamity—did Xiao finally understand what his senior brother had borne!
So much filth, so terrible a blight—what heaven and earth could not withstand, he had carried for centuries.
Ganyu must be stopped.
No more filth could be allowed out; the Compass must be restarted.
The Archon had bound the filth—this was their last chance.
Xiao strode forward. His adeptal spear trailed along the ground in a wake of fire. He bent low, drew a slow breath—then blurred from sight, carving heavy tracks through the air. The layers of filth brushed his ears as he thrust forward—but before he could reach Ganyu, a long spear met his own.
Metal rang, sparking—lighting the face of the one who had come.
Xiao's pupils shrank—disbelieving. The being before him, the one barring his way… wore his face.
That was… also Xiao.
The other Xiao whom Bosacius had led away, two thousand four hundred years ago—
Another self.
His own filth.
"Senior Brother… it was you." In the red eyes of filth-Xiao blazed resentment; his mouth split wide. He spat, venomous: "You killed him!!"
"You killed him… you killed him."
The filth's lips trembled, a mutter near tears of blood.
—"You."
It stared into Xiao.
Spear raised against spear, the filth stepped in—its form smashed straight into Xiao's chest. His soul felt torn, on the verge of fusing with that filth. He staggered back, dropped to a knee, teeth biting his lip till blood ran.
"Bastard…"
Worse—behind filth-Xiao, he saw more familiar figures.
…The Yaksha.
The filth Bosacius had swallowed!
Menogias, Indarias, Bonanus… Their bodies were drenched in black defilement, their eyes glinting with shadowed, chaotic light.
And this was only the beginning.
Behind them, that great mountain—the corpse of Bosacius, his immortal husk—was dwindling bit by bit. Beneath the landslide, something terrifying stirred awake—so familiar, so strange.
It was… Bosacius.
Or rather, Bosacius's Karma.
The field was lost.
Utterly out of control.
"Seino Yaku."
Lumine gripped his hand tight, staring down the filth. "Go."
"The Salt Ruler," she said by his ear. "That woman's Salt Ruler—do you still wear it? Though I hate to admit it… she can protect you. You have to go. Go!"
"Pray to the Salt Ruler—be her follower—and then leave. Go far!"
"You can't help… I can't either…" Lumine lowered her eyes. "Didn't you say, this life… you'd live heartlessly, carefree?"
The Salt Ruler.
Seino Yaku drew it out, feeling the cold, fine texture at his fingertips. The translucent ruler shed a chill light.
Havria had given it to him, and with it much of the Salt God's authority. Now its ownership was his.
With it, he could flee safely.
He looked once more to the heart of the filth—then lowered his gaze.
Once again, a choice stood before him.
The same choice Bosacius had faced; the same choice that flaxen-haired boy had faced two millennia ago. Two thousand years later, he stood before it again.
A choice.
Of course he should run. He'd decided long ago to abandon responsibility and live heartlessly. Ganyu was a stranger he'd known two days; he felt little for her. Xiao was a mere passerby. He was Seino Yaku, not their senior brother. He should leave—take Lumine and go.
He could abandon them with a clear conscience—and never feel guilt.
Besides, he could do nothing. He was pitifully weak. What could he do?
——
Ganyu bowed her head.
She hurt—truly hurt. The Compass's seal had been undone. She sank to her knees, helpless, head bowed. Powder-fine stones from the shattered mountain eddied around her—stones, and the last ash of Bosacius's immortal husk, all that remained after all else was shed.
That was her senior brother.
What had she done? What had she done?
No—this wasn't her… she hadn't done this.
She rubbed a floating grain of stone; its roughness scraped her fingertip like a nail through her heart, the agitation tearing at her soul. She seemed to laugh—seemed to weep. The filth called her name inside her:
[Ganyu, Ganyu, Ganyu]
[This is exactly what you wished for]
"What…" she whispered. "No, I didn't want… I didn't want this. You… you deceived me."
[Was it I who deceived you—or you who deceived yourself? Two thousand four hundred years ago, and now as well. You had many chances, many truths before you—and each time you chose to lie to yourself]
"That's not…"
[Because you refused to admit it. You refused to admit you were wrong—refused to admit your senior was innocent. You wanted him to be evil, a traitor, a vow-breaking adeptus who butchered the people. Only then could you keep walking with an easy heart—only then be content as the secretary of Yuehai Pavilion, content as an adeptus]
[You would not admit your filth, your cowardice, your evil]
[I was born of your heart's desire. You needed that ease—I am the filth, cowardice, and evil deep within you. And even now—even now—]
[—You are still running away]
Yes.
She was still running.
She knew she was running. Whether it was killing Bosacius back then, or breaking the Compass's seal now—she had done it, owned it—and had fled from that guilt. Two thousand four hundred years ago, and now.
She kept running.
[Run on. Leave everything to me. Leave it all to me]
[You should be happy]
[You will soon see your "Senior Brother"—the true one, our Senior Brother. Not that impostor]
[Everyone deceives you—but I will not]
The filth crooned, sickly sweet.
Only crimson remained in her eyes. Ganyu looked into the abyss, at every grain of stone drifting in the air—each one so familiar, so strange. Each was a thread of emotion, a shred of thought—coalescing.
Bosacius's emotions, Bosacius's thoughts—Bosacius's karma.
Her senior brother.
Just as the demon in her heart was herself.
Head lowered, she hugged her body and sank into darkness, bit by bit. No one could save her.
"Don't…" Ganyu whispered.
Don't…
No one could save her.
…
The crisis worsened.
Mr. Zhongli raised his eyes to the sky-filling filth… He could feel more filth remained within The Chasm, yet to emerge… He could not sweep it all away—for filth's essence was the wear Heaven itself decreed.
Even the Geo Archon had limits.
If all were possible, Bosacius would not have died two thousand years ago; Azhdaha would not have gone mad.
Now the urgent task was to evacuate the people—far, far away.
Seal The Chasm… or better yet, raze it with Planet Befall.
It was the only plan he could see—yet he knew it would fail.
There was no better way. None.
The four pillars splintered beneath the filth's assault. Smoke veiled half the sky; cold lightning tore the vault; heaven blinked on and off with each shuddering bolt. Zhongli suddenly froze.
"Sidus Imperium Mutatio Perpetua."
A voice—trembling, uneasy, fearful—and yet… resolved.
"Vincla Daemoniorum Scutum Corporis."
Xiao felt his spirit go still. His soul cleared. The filth tugging him loose seemed to leave his body. The filth-Xiao cheered and raced toward someone else.
He looked up and saw Seino Yaku pass by.
"Sapientia Lucens Animus Pacificus."
"No…" Xiao understood—he understood!
"Animae Vigiles Manes Intacti."
"Seino Yaku!! You idiot!!"
Lumine's shout rang behind him. She tried to reach Seino Yaku—but could not take another step. Fine grains of salt tugged her body taut, forming a barrier that held her back.
Those salts poured from the boy's fingertips.
"Idiot!! Let me through! That woman—Havria!! Can you hear me?!"
Lumine hammered God Cutter against the salt—but Havria could not hear her voice. She could only hear the voice of her sole believer.
She had given Seino Yaku the Salt Ruler's authority; he could wield it. He used it to bar Lumine—and walked toward the very heart of the filth.
Lumine stared, stricken, at the receding Bosacius, and whispered, "…Havria, your follower… is going to die…"
They had agreed—had made plans—to savor his cooking together.
To invite the Yaksha, Cloud Retainer, Mr. Zhongli, Havria, Qiqi, Paimon… To gather at their little bamboo house. To eat well. To be together.
The boy lowered his eyes. Droplets of salt fell from his fingertips.
"Why… It's not fair. It's never… fair."
Head bowed, shoulders shaking, he said softly:
"I want to run. I want to run away. What's it to me? I just… I just want to live well. To live well."
"I have a home to return to now—hard-won. I have so many foods I want to try, so many places I've never been. It's not fair. It's not fair."
"What's filth to me? What's Xiao to me? None of it is my concern. I want to… be heartless."
Of course he could run. These people were strangers. Of course he could run.
But Liyue Harbor did not hold a mere few people—it held millions.
If he ran, they would all die.
Two thousand four hundred years ago, that new-born boy had faced filth as well—and could have run. He was new; he bore no responsibility. Even the system had told him, "You may leave." No one could blame him.
But he didn't—because if he left, many would die, though he did not know them.
He shouldered Liyue's filth—filth not his own.
Faced with the same choice, his former self did not flee.
So now—he should not flee.
For if he did, in this life… no, in countless lives to come, he would lose the one thing that mattered most—the thing that, across cycles beyond counting, made him who he was.
That which belonged to the nameless girl, to Bosacius, to the boy— to Seino Yaku: his Id.
At last Seino Yaku knew with whom the Seventh Covenant had been made.
The Covenant had no subject nor object.
Thus, it was—
—"With himself."
[Seventh Covenant]
[Please proceed to The Chasm.]
He walked toward the deepest deep. Two thousand four hundred years later, Seino Yaku came to honor the Covenant.