Now, everyone understood—the fake Stanley was no fraud.
He had simply been telling the stories of the real Stanley.
At last, the meaning behind the Anemo Archon's words—"One who refuses to forget the 'past,' abandoning the 'present'..."—became clear.
[The fake Stanley could not forget the real Stanley.]
[He abandoned his own identity, abandoned his own future.]
[He remained stuck in the past, trying to salvage something this way.]
[Yet, while memories and emotions can linger, time does not.]
The fake Stanley had grown old—he was no longer the young adventurer he once was.
["I'm sorry, Stanley... even I've grown old... I've grown old too!"]
If I die, will anyone still remember Stanley?
I cannot die, even if my heart is filled with guilt.
Stanley must not, cannot be forgotten!
Yae Miko silently turned the pages with her slender fingers.
Ei... aren't you also someone who refuses to forget the "past," abandoning the "present"?
You wish for everything to remain unchanged—an unchanging "Eternity."
Isn't that just another way of fleeing from the "future"?
The book was right—memories and emotions can linger, but time does not.
No matter how much you resist, Inazuma must still move toward the "future."
"My god..." Yae Miko sighed softly.
The fake Stanley's "eternity" had been disrupted—by Jack.
Jack remembered Stanley's stories and yearned to be like him.
He had actually convinced his parents with that ridiculous "Sword of Brilliant Courage" and "Shield of Radiant Will."
But the fake Stanley couldn't even bring himself to meet Jack's gaze.
I'm just a fraud—how could I dare look into the eyes of someone who truly loves adventure?
Pretending to be asleep, the fake Stanley "woke up" and thanked the Traveler and the others.
His tone was somber, even self-deprecating.
All these years, he had lived for Stanley's stories.
But he could no longer remember—what kind of person Stanley really was.
The only thing he could never forget was that Stanley had died in the windless Mare Jivari—where the wind could not carry his soul away.
Yes, that was all he remembered now—because that was the one thing he couldn't forget.
It was me... it was me who got Stanley killed there...
[Lumine: "His life... seems completely consumed by guilt."]
Lumine sighed—perhaps this was the survivor's guilt, a kind of PTSD?
[Venti: "Indeed. In his memories, the real Stanley is no longer a living friend."]
[Venti: "Instead, he is forever frozen as a scarred warrior, binding his life in place."]
Reading this, Yae Miko couldn't help but wonder—what did Makoto look like in Ei's memories?
She refused to recall the past, refused to consider Makoto's understanding of "Eternity."
Was it because, in her heart, Makoto was also forever frozen—scarred, bleeding, collapsing in her arms?
My pitiful, beloved god... this is why I could never harshly oppose your "Eternity."
The fake Stanley seemed deaf to Venti's words, still muttering to himself.
Venti stepped forward.
["Hans Archibald."]
A wind seemed to rise.
["How... how do you know my real name?"]
The fake Stanley—Hans—was stunned.
He had abandoned that name long ago—never once mentioning it since returning to Mondstadt...
Then, a gentle breeze swept through.
For a moment, everyone felt as if they had been transported to another place.
Wind! The very wind that Mare Jivari could never have!
Hans understood—the one before him was the Anemo Archon.
Of course... only Lord Barbatos would remember my name, right?
A god who would even remember the name of a coward like me...
I want to tell you—
["I... I always believed in your existence!"]
Venti extended his hand, gazing at Hans with gentle eyes.
To him, Hans was never a coward—he was one of his people.
["May I take your old friend's soul?"]
["If you're trapped in a windless land, I shall sing for you the songs of the high heavens."]
Hans slowly placed his hand in Venti's.
When he looked up again, Venti had taken the form of the Stanley he had yearned for all these years.
"Stanley... I must have disappointed you, right?"
"If it happened again... would you still reach out to me?"
These were the thoughts Hans had earlier—yet now, his hand rested in Stanley's.
Stanley tightened his grip on Hans' hand—just like back then.
Only now, Hans' hand was no longer as young as it once was.
Looking at Hans, Stanley smiled faintly.
"Little adventurer, remember this—
I was your senior!"
"So, the one who died in Mare Jivari... was me, not you!"
Hans tried to reach out—but Stanley's soul had already dissipated.
Hans had brought his soul back to his homeland.
The wind had carried his soul to the heavens above.
The story of Stanley and Hans Archibald had ended.
But the "Ballad of the Bard" was not yet over.
After leaving the tavern, Venti shared his own story with the Traveler.
["The form I take now—just like that fake Stanley—was borrowed from a 'friend.'"]
Yes, Venti and the fake Stanley were much alike.
The only difference was—while the fake Stanley was paralyzed by guilt, Venti moved forward in place of his friend.
Just like the poem Venti had heard from his "friend"—
["Soar, soar,]
["Like a bird in flight."]
["See the world for me,"]
["Fly to the heavens high above."]
How does a bird soar into the sky?
The answer is "courage."
Only a bird with courage can fly into the heavens.
Only a person with courage can walk toward the future.
Just as Venti had said—"When you are trapped in darkness, courage is the only light that can lift you up and lead you out."
And with that, the "Ballad of the Bard" truly came to an end.
All that remained were the people of Mondstadt—now reduced to tears.
It wasn't just the devout followers of the Anemo Archon who were moved—
Even those who did not believe in him wept at the story.
"Lord Barbatos! Wuwu...!"
Barbara knelt before the statue, covering her eyes, her sobs nearly silent.
Rosaria sat nearby, her emotions turbulent as she gazed at the statue.
...Fine. Consider this bottle of wine my treat, Barbatos.
In the tavern, everyone turned to look at Venti—wanting to say something, yet unsure how.
"Why is everyone staring at me?"
"Stories and wine go well together, but tears and wine? Not so much."
"Drinking with tears in your eyes ruins the flavor~."
Venti took a sip of his wine.
So delicious... it's enough to move one to tears.
But... gods do not cry.
Meanwhile, Kaedehara Kazuha, who had just returned to Liyue, lay on the deck of his ship.
A book covered his face, hiding his expression.
A gentle breeze brushed past his ear, as if trying to flip the pages open.
The opened page read—
["See the world for me,"]
["Fly to the heavens high above."]
Kazuha tightened his grip on the dull Vision in his hand.
"Can this Vision... become your eyes?"