"Only you never trusted me."
Ganyu felt cold. Here—at the deepest place near the earth's heart—steam should have made the air scalding… yet she was cold.
It was quiet here; her heart was quiet too.
After the karma in her heart was devoured, all fell silent—and empty.
A terrifying quiet. A silence that made the skin crawl.
Ganyu had never feared silence like this.
Worse, she was lucid—more lucid than ever. And because she was lucid, she had no excuse to keep running.
She didn't want to go back to the surface. Or rather, she lacked the courage to go. She feared that the instant she set foot above, she would see Seino Yaku's corpse—blood soaking the ground…
And between blood and shattered stone—a heart breaking.
A broken heart… a broken heart.
Flickering with the faintest light.
Ah.
She had seen one before—two thousand four hundred years ago, when her arrow pierced Bosacius. That heart had been just as clear, just as… breathtakingly terrible.
Fear, fear, fear.
But she had to face it.
Just as Seino Yaku said at the end—she had to learn to face things. If she fled again, another millennium would birth new karma.
She had been running for two thousand four hundred years; she could not run forever. Last time she fled; this time, she could not.
She would witness everything—both for herself and for her senior. If Seino Yaku's plan failed, she had the duty to witness the end. She could not let him die alone… as before—alone at the end of the world.
Ganyu climbed toward the upper layers of The Chasm, following the path Seino Yaku had taken. She walked slowly. At last she emerged. The light above had thinned; a white-skirted girl stood staring at the sky.
The girl noticed the movement and looked back. Beautiful golden eyes reflected Ganyu's face.
—"What are you here for?"
No extra emotion.
Ganyu froze.
Her name was Lumine. Ganyu remembered it.
She even remembered their first meeting: on sun-dappled Mt. Aocang in spring. The girl lay on a boy's back; gold hair fell against his neck; warm sun wrapped them both… Ganyu's first meeting with Lumine—and her first meeting… and reunion… with Seino Yaku.
Travel. Ganyu remembered what Lumine had said then: they were traveling.
She remembered the worn book in Lumine's hands, Teyvat Travel Guide, full of places—and stories.
"What are you here for?"
Unconsciously, Ganyu tightened her grip on her collar.
What are you here for.
She asked herself the same.
"I… want to…" Ganyu's voice was small. "I want to see him… one more time."
Lumine studied her quietly. After a moment, she looked away.
"No need. Thank you."
Lumine pressed her lips together. "I'll be the one waiting for him."
…So that was it.
No need. Ganyu gave a pale smile.
Of course… Ganyu had ignored something all along: Seino Yaku was not alone in this life. Someone had been at his side, caring for him, traveling with him; someone had a journal full of his name… And that someone—was not her.
And there was the Salt God… Havria.
Ganyu remembered Seino Yaku's scent—the trace of salt grains on him. A god's blessing: Havria had shared her authority with him; thus he wielded a god's power.
At the end of Bosacius's life, he left Mt. Aocang—the mountain where they grew up—and went to Sal Terrae.
The slaughter of Sal Terrae's people; the assassination of the Salt God… none of it was the true history.
In this life or the last, the one at his side had never been Ganyu.
Her senior would not die alone—because someone would be waiting.
Ganyu finally understood: he did not need her; it was she who needed him.
She had been self-indulgent, all along.
Though the karma in her heart was gone, the shock never came like a tidal wave. It was like a thorn pulled from flesh—but the heart remembered the pain. She felt it now—indescribable.
Biting her lip, she asked softly, "Where… is he now?"
Lumine said nothing.
Her face stayed calm, but her nails dug deep; her shoulders trembled. Her fear showed. Yet she never looked away—staring, unblinking, at a single point.
At length, she said: "I believe in him."
Ganyu followed Lumine's gaze to the wide plain—and quickly found Seino Yaku. His aura was too strong to miss.
Seino Yaku was powerful now.
Far beyond most gods.
But to Rex Lapis, the god famed for slaughter, one solid, tangible foe is easier to end than formless, swarming filth.
He watched the slowly approaching blight with a faint daze.
The boy was terrifyingly strong—yet the Archon felt him small. He had traded his life to gather all karma; the millennial blight of The Chasm was bound within his heart.
Of course the filth wished to flee—but a heart anchored by Covenants was their last prison.
He made his body the cage.
Now, Rex Lapis would destroy the karma—together with that brilliant heart.
He knew what it meant.
It meant he might have to kill a friend.
Zhongli's hand tightened on the Vortex Vanquisher. He sighed faintly, golden phoenix-eyes fixed on that advancing figure.
Covenant… Covenant…
Covenants can be… heartbreakers.
—
[lv.90]
Karma spread like flame.
Seino Yaku lowered his head. Four twisted arms creaked at the joints; flesh rolled and unfurled. He lifted his eyes.
Because his chest was hewn open, half his heart lay bare—beating like thunder, like a great drum shaken across heaven and earth. Louder, faster.
Dark, filthy blood pulsed from the heart through his body; the flesh began to twist and mutate. Seino Yaku's heart had become the physical shape of Liyue's karma; with each beat, the land around Liyue changed as well.
Cloudbanks tore in two across the sky, opening cracks thousands of li long; thunder and rain slanted from the rift. Karma stood at its center and walked forward—step by step—and the rift widened.
Not just the sky: the ocean-blue plain before him cracked with his heartbeat, his tread.
This was Archon-level karma made manifest: a breath in, a breath out—and heaven and earth were tainted.
"Zhong… li…" His voice was hoarse, as if scraped from the depths of his lungs, echoing heavy. "Do it."
He bled from everywhere—wrestling the vast, foul will inside. He felt his whole self split apart. In the depths of his mind—
A titanic abyss; on it, a grand mountain range. At its peak stood Bosacius's karma—four-armed, gaze indifferent, looking down at the boy below.
Seino Yaku knew: this world was his heart.
"We are one."
The karma spoke softly; ten thousand echoes tolled at his ears. "I am you."
"Aren't you tired? This endless cycle—aren't you tired?"
The figure blurred, its features a collage—an old warrior, a bright-eyed youth…
Seino Yaku knew: those faces were all himself, from different times—even if he had forgotten.
His mind roared. He tried not to listen. Karma's forte was to stain the soul. Yet he truly felt it—bone-deep fatigue, like a tide swallowing him.
This was erosion. He could not fight it; he could only drown.
Tired… yes, he was tired.
Death or rebirth—again and again. Mortals age, die, part… He'd grown tired—tired of a mortal life.
If the karma devoured him… he would no longer be mortal. And perhaps pain would end.
The Contract that held his heart was loosening; the filth would break free.
"Let us end the cycle together. Give everything to me. You won't be tired anymore."
"In this world, only I won't hurt you. As long as it's us, no one can."
The karma's gaze was serious—an invitation. Its shifting pupils burned with a world-scorching fire. "Morax cannot. Human Principles cannot. Heavenly Principles cannot!"
A black sea swallowed Seino Yaku. He sank. At the last instant before his mind went under—before his eyes closed—he shook his head.
"No."
"Why?" The karma was taken aback.
"Because… it's dusk," Seino Yaku muttered. "Outside—it should be dusk."
"And then?"
"I promised—I promised."
"Before dusk, I go home to eat. I finally have a home… I'm going home."
"I am speaking of cycles!" the karma roared.
Even his own karma could not understand Seino Yaku's logic. Here it was speaking of endless cycles and world-dominion, and he was prattling like a child about Mom calling him home for dinner—turning the karma's speech into a chuunibyou's tantrum.
But he was dead serious—more serious than ever… as if "going home for dinner" was the most important thing in the world.
No one would block his way home. If anyone did, he would fight them to the death—Bornus moment, omnia sacrificus—anything could be sacrificed.
Last life, he sacrificed everything. This life, only a little bamboo house remained. Stain Liyue, tear down that hut, kill the ones inside—what would any sacrifice mean then?
Seino Yaku broke the surface of the abyss and looked again at the karma on the mountain. Blood-red dusk covered this inner world.
Fire-clouds unfurled; a great corona blazed. Golden sun washed over him.
At the corona's edge, Seino Yaku lowered his stance, exhaled; white mist streamed between his teeth. His palm settled on God Cutter's sheath; his eyes flared with incomparable light!
He drew God Cutter on his karma—on himself—on his own heart.
"F**k Off!"
The blade came free. He stabbed—hard—into his own heart.
And the world before him began to break.
I fought so hard to have a home.
I'm going home.
The vault shattered into panes; in each shard, a different dusk glowed. The mountain cracked inch by inch. The karma watched him, calm—its figure dissolving with the world.
Against the corona, Seino Yaku saw a Vortex Vanquisher—and knew this world's shattering was his heart breaking.
The lance slipped the hand and flew like an arrow, trailing afterimages along the horizon. A white rain-curtain split open around it, and it smashed straight through Seino Yaku's chest. In that instant, the world lost its sound.
Behind him, strata after strata blew open in widening rings under the lance's aftershock. Delayed shockwaves flensed the land along its path, opening sheer ravines.
Seino Yaku's eyes went blank; his consciousness blurred. He could not feel the pain in his chest—only a vast emptiness, a world gone hollow.
The Vortex Vanquisher faded—into fine motes of light. Each grain shone. Seino Yaku stood in that glow and raised his eyes to the Archon above.
Dark-gold brilliance flowed along the shaft; geo trailed down the long lance like a branching bough of light. Blood streamed along it and evaporated before it reached the ground.
The lance was very long—through the whole chest, jutting from his back.
Head bowed, he lifted his gaze to Zhongli in the heavens and smiled with pride. His lips moved—silent words:
"You did it."
"I did too," he added, proud.
He toppled slowly, in the afterglow of sunset.
His heart shattered completely.
Zhongli watched… Rex Lapis remained calm. He had always been calm. Calm when he threw the lance. Calm when he pierced a friend's heart. Calm when he lowered his eyes—though his shoulders trembled.
That was what Ganyu saw.
A heart broke—but it was not the only one.