As the light faded, the Yaksha abruptly opened their eyes. The road before them, once filled with gods, was suddenly clear.
Boom... Boom... Boom...
Soon, the fallen gods on either side began to move again. Towering forms that blotted out the sky rose once more, filling the path ahead. At a glance, only nine of the original twelve remained—two missing their arms from the explosion.
As one of Morax's subordinates, Bosacius had achieved an astonishing feat—sacrificing himself to take down three gods and severely injure two others. But to the remaining Yaksha, it was beyond belief.
They knew Brother Bosacius's strength better than anyone. He had been nearly invincible beneath the Seven Gods, second only to Azhdaha himself. For someone of his might to meet such an end...
In that moment, they remembered—the horrors of the Archon War. They remembered the age when gods ruled over all. The overwhelming power of the gods crushed their spirits, leaving them breathless with despair.
An endless rain of attacks poured down upon them. The Yaksha, nerves stretched to the breaking point, were like a bowstring pulled to its limit. Against nine gods, they were utterly powerless.
As they dodged frantically, their hearts burned with rage, grief, and frustration. They wanted to avenge Brother Bosacius. They wanted to tear apart every god that stood before them. But the vast difference in strength could not be bridged by will alone. Their fury changed nothing.
Now, they could only struggle to survive—fighting back was no longer an option.
"Bonanus, hold back on your skills! We have to last until His Majesty arrives. We can't afford another loss—Brother Bosacius's sacrifice must not be in vain!"
A wall of water surged upward, blocking a torrent of flames. Alatus turned back and shouted.
"My energy's nearly spent," Bonanus replied. "Sometimes I can't react fast enough—I have to use skills to block. I'll try to hold back more."
Before long, Menogias and Indarias also began using their skills again and again to defend, though the effort drained their strength rapidly. In the end, only Alatus continued fighting without using his abilities—yet he soon noticed something strange.
The pressure on him had eased. Many of the attacks that should have reached him were being intercepted by Menogias and Indarias.
Slowly, Alatus began to realize a pattern. Indarias, Bonanus, and Menogias were all far from him, yet every skill they cast always managed to shield the area around him.
It was as if... they were deliberately keeping their distance while protecting him at the same time.
The realization hit him like a thunderclap. His pupils shrank sharply.
In the next instant, he transformed into a gust of wind, speeding toward Bonanus with desperate urgency.
Before Bonanus could react, Alatus froze midair. He stood motionless, like a puppet, trembling as his gaze fixed on her. Even though Bonanus tried to hide it, he had already seen the spreading violet marks creeping across her body.
"Bonanus, you..."
The words stuck in his throat. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. Grief crashed over him like a tidal wave, suffocating him completely.
At that moment, Indarias rested a hand on his shoulder. Alatus turned stiffly, his pupils contracting once more. He saw it clearly now—both Indarias and Menogias bore the same purple taint.
The gods' attacks continued to rain down, yet none could reach them. A blue barrier, a golden barrier, and a red barrier—three layers of light surrounded the group, holding firm. It was the last shield the three Yaksha had formed with the remnants of their strength.
"Sorry, Alatus," Menogias said softly, smiling with quiet apology. "Looks like we won't be joining you for almond tofu after all."
"Why... why did you do this..." Alatus's eyes shimmered, tears blurring his vision. "You could've used fewer skills... just held out a bit longer... just a bit longer... His Majesty might've arrived in time..."
He knew their strength—he knew it too well. Indarias and the others were all stronger than him. Even earlier, he hadn't reached his limit—he hadn't needed to use his skills to dodge.
There was no way they had been forced to fight this hard. They weren't struggling to survive—they were doing it on purpose. They had shielded him, taking every hit to conserve his strength for the end.
But in doing so, they had overexerted themselves—drained their energy, weakened their bodies, and succumbed to the Abyssal taint.
"By seniority, you're the youngest," Indarias said with a faint smile, gently patting his head. "It's only right that us older brothers and sisters protect our little brother, isn't it?"
"That's right," Bonanus said softly. "Brother Bosacius was so strong—there's no way he would've fallen before us. He only got infected because he was protecting me."
"Now," Menogias murmured, "it's our turn to join Brother Bosacius."
"Alatus," Indarias said gently, "you must live on. Carry our hopes with you—and keep living for all of us."
With that, the three Yaksha smiled and said their final goodbyes. Then, one by one, they stepped out of the barrier and soared toward the nine gods.
Alatus's eyes went wide. He reached out desperately, trying to grasp them—but the same barrier that had protected him also bound him inside.
"Don't... don't go..."
"Bonanus... Indarias... Menogias..."
"Don't leave me..."
"We promised... we promised we'd return together..."
Tears streamed down Alatus's face as he pounded helplessly on the barrier, watching as his companions were swallowed by the blinding light.
In an instant, a cataclysmic explosion tore through heaven and earth. The ground split apart, clouds scattered, and brilliant light engulfed all of Liyue.
Across the land, people looked up in shock as the night sky was flooded with light. The auras of the three Yaksha vanished completely.
The dazzling radiance lasted only for a heartbeat. The heavy clouds above dispersed, revealing the clear sky beyond.
Alatus's barrier dissolved into nothingness. He stood motionless, his vacant eyes fixed on the shattered earth and the countless craters before him.
A soft breeze brushed past, carrying away his tears. He stood like a statue, hollow-eyed and unmoving, as if his soul had been drained away.
Boom... Rumble!
Suddenly, movement stirred in the vast crater ahead. A massive, dark-purple hand clawed its way out of the earth.
Alatus stared at it blankly, his dazed gaze slowly giving way to horror.
Moments later, three gods emerged from the pit—three of the original nine. The explosion had only destroyed six.
The remaining gods once again unleashed their fury upon the lone surviving Alatus. The once-silent battlefield roared to life once more.
After a long time, a third explosion echoed across the land. Compared to the previous two, this one was much smaller.