The day the Azure Edict was announced dawned like any other in Liyue Harbor. The sun rose over the sea, painting the golden roofs with a familiar, gentle light. Merchants hawked their wares, sailors loaded their cargo, and the city hummed with the steady, prosperous rhythm of its daily life. No one knew that by the time the sun set, the entire world, and the very foundations of its power, would be irrevocably, seismically, changed.
The announcement came at midday. It was not a quiet proclamation pinned to a bulletin board, but a grand, city-wide address. Using a network of adeptal amplifiers—a small, almost forgotten piece of technology that Cloud Retainer had "loaned" to the Qixing for the occasion—Ningguang's clear, calm, and powerful voice echoed through every street, every alley, every home in Liyue Harbor.
She stood on the grand balcony of the Yuehai Pavilion, a symbol of mortal authority, and she spoke. She began by recounting the recent crisis, the fall of their god, the attack of Osial, and the bravery of the adepti, the Qixing, and the people of Liyue.
Then, she delivered the bombshell.
"In the wake of this new, uncertain era," her voice rang out, "an era where we must now learn to walk on our own, a new discovery has been made. A marvel of ingenuity, a collaboration between adeptal wisdom and mortal ambition. Today, Liyue enters a new age. Today, we announce the advent of the Elemental Conduit... a man-made Vision."
A profound, collective silence fell over the entire city. The haggling of merchants, the clang of blacksmiths, the chatter of friends—it all ceased in an instant. Every single person, from the wealthiest trader to the humblest dockworker, stopped what they were doing and stared, unblinking, at the source of the impossible, world-shattering words.
Ningguang explained the Edict, her voice calm and steady as she laid out the framework of this new reality. She spoke of the devices, of the ability for any citizen to safely wield the power of an element. She spoke of the registration system, of the law of one element per person, of the accountability that came with this new power. She did not present it as a weapon, but as a tool: a tool for artisans, a tool for laborers, a tool for the defense of one's home and family. A tool for all.
When the announcement was over, the silence lingered for a long, pregnant moment. And then, the city erupted.It was a sound of pure, unadulterated, explosive joy. A deafening, city-wide roar of disbelief, of wonder, of hope. People poured out of their homes and shops, their faces alight with a look of dazed, ecstatic revelation.The very concept was intoxicating. The power of the gods, the gift that had always been reserved for a chosen, heroic few, was now within their reach. An old fisherman with arthritic hands could now wield a spark of Pyro to light his stove without fumbling with flint and steel. A young seamstress could use a wisp of Anemo to clean her workshop. A mother could create a small, gentle globe of Hydro to soothe her child's fevered brow.
It was not a call to arms; it was a promise of a better, easier, and more magical life. The line between the mundane and the miraculous had just been erased.
Lan, the Master of the Adventurers' Guild, stood on the steps of her guild house, a quiet, knowing smile on her face as she watched the city celebrate. She was no longer just a witness; she was a symbol of this new age, the first of her kind. And in that moment, she felt a pride for her city, and for the small, quiet boy who had made it all possible, that was as vast and as deep as the sea.
The news did not stay confined to Liyue Harbor for long. Like a ripple in a pond, it spread, carried by merchant ships, by diplomatic couriers, by the quiet whispers of the wind itself.
In Mondstadt, the city of freedom, the reaction was one of stunned, slightly envious, excitement. Jean, upon receiving the official dispatch, read it three times, her weary eyes wide with disbelief. "They… they did what?" she murmured, her mind struggling to comprehend the sheer scale of the announcement. Lisa, leaning over her shoulder, just let out a low, appreciative whistle. "Well, I'll be," she purred. "My little genius cutie wasn't just building toys after all. He was building a revolution."
The news spread through the city like wildfire. The public was ecstatic, Albedo was deeply, profoundly intrigued, and Klee just wanted to know if she could get a Hydro gauntlet to make her "bouncy fish" even bouncier.
In the hallowed, quiet halls of the Sumeru Akademiya, the news arrived like a philosophical earthquake. The scholars, who had spent centuries debating the theoretical nature of the Vision-granting process, were thrown into a state of absolute chaos. The idea that Liyue, a nation of merchants and warriors, had scientifically, mechanically, solved the greatest mystery of their world was a blow to their collective pride and a source of maddening, insatiable curiosity.
In the closed, storm-wracked nation of Inazuma, the news was a forbidden, dangerous whisper. It was a spark of hope in a land where hope was a dying ember. The very idea of a man-made Vision, a power that was completely against the tyrannical, Vision-hunting Archon, was the most potent and revolutionary idea to have reached their shores in a several years. For the members of the resistance, it was not just a marvel; it was a potential weapon, a symbol that the eternity their Shogun craved was not, in fact, absolute.
And in the frozen, snow-covered lands of Snezhnaya, in the grand, icy halls of the Zapolyarny Palace, the news was received with a chilling, silent fury.
La Signora, the Fair Lady, had just returned, triumphant. She had presented the Gnosis of the Anemo Archon and the Gnosis of the Geo Archon to her god, the Tsaritsa. She had accomplished in a matter of months what the Fatui had been working towards for years. She was at the apex of her power and influence.
And then, the dispatch from Liyue arrived.She read it, and the triumphant, arrogant smirk on her beautiful face slowly, glacially, froze. Her grip on the parchment tightened, her knuckles turning white, the paper crinkling under the force of her rage.
A man-made Vision.
The words were an insult, a mockery of everything she had fought and sacrificed for. She, who had been granted the immense power of a Delusion by her god, was now being told that the mortals of Liyue had simply… built a better version. A safe version.
Her entire technological and military advantage, the very tool the Fatui used to enforce their will upon the world, had just been rendered obsolete by some upstarts from a lowly nation. The rage she felt was so profound, so absolute, that the very air in the throne room began to frost and burn simultaneously.
In Liyue itself, the two other present Harbingers had their own, unique, reactions.
Scaramouche, the Balladeer, heard the news while skulking through the dark, lower levels of the harbor. He stopped, listened to the cheering, and a look of pure, venomous, incredulous hatred contorted his doll-like face. He had been mocked by the Marionette, dismissed by the child, and now that same child had just upended the entire world order. The jealousy he felt was a physical, burning poison in his veins. The boy was not just a pretty face; he was a rival, a true, existential threat to his own sense of superiority.
Sandrone, the Marionette, was in her hidden workshop, tinkering with the delicate gears of a new automaton. When her own "Katheryne" unit delivered the news, she did not react with anger or surprise. She simply stopped her work, a long, slow, and utterly delighted smile spreading across her face.
"Oh, you brilliant, brilliant little boy," she whispered to the empty air, her voice a purr of pure, proprietary pride. "You didn't just build a better toy. You built a better world." Her investment, she knew, was about to pay off in ways she had not even begun to imagine. She had backed the right horse, and that horse was about to reshape the entire racetrack.
And in the far-flung corners of Teyvat, the Archons themselves, the divine pillars of the world, felt the tremor of this new, mortal dawn.
In Mondstadt, Venti, in his guise as a simple, wine-loving bard, heard the news from a passing merchant. He stopped his song, his usual cheerful expression fading into one of profound, thoughtful wonder. He looked towards the distant, stone-speared horizon of Liyue, and a genuine, deeply impressed smile touched his lips. "So," he murmured to the wind, "the children of the stone are finally learning to fly on their own wings. How wonderful."
In the silent, unchanging plane of Euthymia, the Raiden Shogun, the eternal, unyielding god of Inazuma, felt the news not as a report, but as a discordant note in her perfect, unchanging symphony. A man-made ambition. A mortal-forged will that could grasp the power of the elements. It was a flaw in her logic, a crack in the very foundation of her eternity. It was a threat, a new, unforeseen variable that would need to be… eliminated.
And in her icy palace, the Tsaritsa, the god of love who had declared war on the heavens, looked at the two Gnosis she had just acquired, the symbols of divine authority she had sacrificed so much to obtain. And then she looked at the report from Liyue, the report of a mortal-made power that was safe, stable, and replicable.
The mortals of Liyue were in their own crude and simplified way, fighting against the same enemy that she was rallying her forced against. In a way, these mortals were her allies for now, the enemy of an enemy.
Finally, in a quiet, unassuming office in the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, a certain consultant named Zhongli put down his teacup. He had heard the cheers from the street, he had listened to the joyful, disbelieving chatter of the people. He looked out the window at the city he had built and nurtured for millennia, a city that was now celebrating its own, final, glorious step into independence.
He thought of the small, quiet boy who had seen the weariness in his own ancient soul, the boy who had created a revolution not out of a desire for power, but out of a simple, profound desire to help.
A long, slow, and deeply, truly, happy smile graced the lips of the retired Geo Archon.
His test was over.
His children had passed.