The system continued running.
[1144 years old: You let out a furious roar. (Physique +0.1) You gathered winds.]
After sleeping for several hundred years, the very first thing he did upon waking was gather followers.
This was Decarabian, staying true to himself across the centuries.
His obsession with being a ruler ran this deep, even back when he was nothing more than a particularly fierce gale.
---
[1156 years old: The newly transformed land carried a scent that felt familiar and right to you. (Family Background +1)]
[1157 years old: Centuries of dormancy have deepened your spiritual nature, transforming you into a Wind Spirit of the Gale.]
[Talent unlocked: Wind Spirit of the Gale. Every time a tornado sweeps across this land, your power increases.]
---
[1184 years old: The Heavenly Principles had a sacred plan for humanity.
If humans were happy, it was pleased.
It sent envoys of Angles to walk among humanity, bringing wisdom and revelation to those still living in ignorance.
Whatever humans wanted, it provided.
The only thing forbidden was to succumb to temptation.]
---
[1185 years old: With your deepened spiritual nature, you gained a greater capacity for thought.
You came to understand that the winds you had tamed in the past, even those that submitted to you, lacked sufficient self-awareness. They yielded only out of instinctive fear of a more powerful being of their kind. And ordinary winds were too fragile to follow you for long.
Realizing this, your old sense of satisfaction began to dim. (Intelligence +0.5)]
[1186 years old: You encountered a group of humans trekking across the wilderness.
You roared at them furiously, exactly as you had always roared at the winds. (Physique +0.1)
Their banners were blown sideways. An old man's hat was swept into the sky. Women screamed and clutched at their flying skirts. Children laughed and shouted with delight.
When the gale passed, the humans simply continued on their way. They did not submit to you.
You retreated, having accomplished nothing. You felt frustration for the first time. (Intelligence +0.5)
You concluded that your winds were not yet strong enough to intimidate them.]
---
[1193 years old: Seven years later, your skill in commanding the wind as a Wind Spirit of the Gale had grown considerably more refined.
For the second time, you encountered a traveling party resting in a dense forest. You summoned a far more violent gale than before, stripping leaves from trees, shaking branches so hard that some snapped.
The travelers, seasoned and experienced, circled their wagons and huddled together within their sturdy temporary encampment. The raging wind could not break through.
When the gale subsided, they continued on their journey.
You had failed again. Your frustration deepened. (Intelligence +0.1)
You concluded that your winds were not yet sharp enough to cut through their defenses.]
[Talent unlocked: Faster! Sharper! Your conviction in the pursuit of greater power has strengthened.]
---
[1257 years old: The climate shifted. Winters in the north grew colder with each passing year.
Your winds swept over fallen snow. You now possessed considerably greater power, and the sharp edges of ice and snow could be carried within your gales.
When you drove these harder, more violent winds toward the human settlements, ready at last to bring them to submission...
All you found were ruins.]
[1258 years old: The passing winds told you what had happened. Humanity had received revelation and wisdom, and built civilizations of unprecedented prosperity. Emboldened by this, they had begun to question the authority of the sky, and sought to ascend to the gods' domain.
So the Angles had descended with divine punishment, and those flourishing civilizations were destroyed.
You witnessed the aftermath of that punishment and felt genuine awe at its scale.
You became convinced that with power of that magnitude, making humanity submit would be simple. (Intelligence +1)]
[Talent unlocked: Power Worship. You are inclined to resolve problems through force.]
---
[1259 to 1758 years old: Human civilizations continued their cycle through ignorance, growth, prosperity, and destruction, one after another:
You watched the eternal frost begin to thaw, and new flames be kindled. (Intelligence +1)
You watched the old flames be extinguished by gentle rains. (Intelligence +1)
You watched seas and rivers run dry while thunder stirred in the sky. (Intelligence +1)
You watched the life force of all things weaken, and the land freeze once more. (Intelligence +1)]
[1759 years old: A second from beyond disguise descended from the heavens and waged war against the first. The battle that followed felt like the beginning of creation itself, as though the world might unmake and remake in its wake.
That day, the sky cracked and the earth shattered.
All things were caught in the upheaval. Including you.
You fell into slumber.]
A second from beyond the skies, fighting the first.
Ji An turned the phrase over. What were these people? The first had already appeared once in the simulation. Now a second had come down from above and gone to war with it.
Teyvat's ancient history was far more layered and strange than anything he had imagined.
---
[1899 years old: The mortal realm had been divided into seven nations. The frozen land of old was now known as Mondstadt.
You awakened.
You asked the passing winds: "Who won that great war?"
The wind told you: "The The Heavenly Principles won."
You accepted this without dwelling on it further.
That said, you could not understand why the Angles no longer walked among the people of the earth.]
[1900 years old: You encountered a person who claimed to have come from beyond this world.]
At this point, the system displayed a prompt.
[The simulation has reached a turning point for this character. Do you wish to enter the immersive state and experience it directly?]
Ji An said: "Yes."
---
The perspective shifted.
He had become Decarabian, still in the form of a Wind Spirit of the Gale.
His vision was filled with ice and snow, a boundless expanse of white stretching in every direction.
Amidst the vast snowstorm, a human figure wandered leisurely across Mondstadt's frozen land, entirely at ease, as though the biting cold and the howling wind were simply not factors worth considering.
Since the Angles had ceased walking among humanity, Mondstadt's climate had grown increasingly harsh. The few surviving Mondstadters had retreated to sealed caves and rarely ventured outside. The Wind Spirit of the Gale had not encountered a human in a long time.
So it followed this one.
It roared at him with all the force it had once roared at other winds and other humans.
Its power had grown considerably since those early days. It was certain this human would buckle under it.
The gale did not so much as stir the hem of the white-clad human's garment.
"Oh? Interesting. A wind spirit that has developed self-awareness."
The human said this with what sounded very much like amusement.
The dismissive tone enraged Decarabian. It intensified its winds, pouring everything it had into the gale. The blade-sharp storm dispersed effortlessly in front of the white-clad human, as though the air around him simply refused to carry hostility.
His very existence seemed to operate on a different plane from the forces of this world.
"Why are you so angry? Is it simply because I am not frightened by your power?"
The human's eyes, visible above the mask he wore, glowed faintly, like distant stars.
The Wind Spirit gave no answer.
The white-clad human smiled to himself and turned to leave.
The Wind Spirit followed him.
"Why are you following me?" His voice drifted back through the storm.
The Wind Spirit kept close: "Who are you? What are you doing on this land?"
The white-clad human walked across the snow without slowing his pace: "I come from beyond this world, to scatter the broken seeds."
"Seeds?" The Wind Spirit pressed closer. "What are those? Can they increase power?"
The human glanced sideways at it: "Why do you desire power so much?"
"Because with power, you can control everything. You earn admiration. Others submit to you."
The white-clad human was quiet for a moment. Then he said: "Do you believe submission earned solely through power can ever be genuine?"
The Wind Spirit considered this: "Isn't it?"
It seemed entirely convinced that it was.
The white-clad human said nothing more and continued on his way.
The Wind Spirit followed, and kept following.
They traveled an immensely long journey together. At each new place, the white-clad human would open his hand and scatter small fragments across the land, then move on without explanation.
Behind them, living beings discovered these fragments and picked them up.
Some could not withstand the power held within a fragment and had to let it go. Others took fragments only to have them stolen before the power could fully take hold.
Eventually, those who successfully merged with a fragment were transformed. They gained power on a scale that had not existed in them before. They could call wind and rain, split mountains, redirect rivers.
Travelers and beasts who witnessed this power were awed into submission and chose to follow these beings of their own accord.
The Wind Spirit watched all of this unfold, journey after journey, fragment after fragment, and its conviction grew stronger with each example it witnessed.
Enough power meant followers. Enough followers meant reverence.
This was the truth of things.
As the long years passed, the white-clad human and the Wind Spirit eventually completed a full circuit of the land and returned to the frozen north where they had begun.
At last, the Wind Spirit made its request: "Give me one of those fragments."
"Have you thought this through?"
The white-clad human looked at it carefully: "These fragments carry more than power. They also carry the original intent of the throne before it was broken. That intent will become part of whoever merges with the fragment."
"What intent?"
"For those who take them, it is the ideal of loving humanity." He paused. "It may also become a kind of shackle."
"Give it to me."
The Wind Spirit was not concerned. The idea of loving humanity did not trouble it. It did not dislike humans. If it gained great power, it would not mind extending some protection to them in return. That seemed like a reasonable arrangement.
"Then good luck."
The white-clad human sighed quietly and held out the last remaining fragment. The Wind Spirit took it, and the human turned and walked away without looking back.
When the fragment merged with the Wind Spirit, it brought with it a name engraved somewhere inside: Decarabian.
As others before him had been transformed, so too was he.
Above the frozen land of northern Mondstadt, storms arose on a scale that had never existed before. All living things trembled at the emergence of this new God of Storms.
Decarabian's power was such that even the other beings in the north who had merged with fragments could not match him.
Except one.
Andrius, the Wolf King who commanded the north wind, possessed power that met Decarabian as an equal. The two regarded each other warily, keeping their distance, neither choosing to move against the other.
That uneasy balance held until the day seven thrones descended from the islands floating high above the world.
After that, there was no room left for peace.
The gods went to war to determine who would rule the land. The frozen north was no exception.
The war between Decarabian and Andrius dragged on for many years, with neither able to overcome the other.
Mondstadt's climate did not improve. If anything, it grew more brutal.
The surviving Mondstadters, struggling to hold on, needed the protection of a god to endure. They sought out many, but none believed they could guarantee what was needed.
On the frozen land of Mondstadt, the only options left were those two.
Having heard stories of Decarabian's unpredictable nature, the people of Mondstadt went first to the Wolf King of the North Wind.
But the Wolf King had no warmth for humans. He believed humans were a source of nothing but disappointment. In his view, only infants were truly innocent. He offered to take their children, but he would not accept the adults.
The Mondstadters could not accept that. With no remaining options and deep unease in their hearts, they turned and went to the God of Storms after all.
---
Decarabian, now wearing a human form, sat upon his high throne and listened to the humans below.
He heard their pleas. Their fear. Their helplessness.
The war with Andrius was at its most intense.
Using precious divine power to protect these humans would not be a strategically sound choice.
And yet, watching the people kneel before him, Decarabian felt a satisfaction that surpassed anything he had felt before. Even defeating the Wolf King had not produced this.
When the white-clad human had given him the fragment, perhaps he had not yet fully understood his own nature.
Now, he was certain of it.
He was one who loved humanity.
"Humans. Stay. I will protect you."
Having made that promise, Decarabian poured his divine power into building a royal city, a place that would stand between his people and the wind and snow.
Every brick and tile was laid with the weight of the prosperous future he envisioned.
When he stood atop the high tower and looked down, his subjects knelt before him of their own accord.
He had never experienced anything like it.
And he thought he finally understood what the white-clad human had meant.
"Do you believe submission earned solely through power can ever be genuine?"
So that had been the answer. Submission forced through raw power was hollow and false.
But submission earned by using that power in service of humanity, by protecting them and providing for them, that was something real. Something that could be proud of.
Because it meant the people genuinely loved him and chose to revere him.
Decarabian settled deeply into that feeling.
And because he loved his people in return, he gave them everything he could think to give.
The wind and snow outside were brutal, so he reinforced the royal city's walls, making them stronger, sealing it tighter, until not even the sky was visible above it.
Human lives were short, and humans lacked the experience and understanding to know what was truly best for them. So Decarabian applied his millennia of accumulated wisdom to plan every detail of life within the royal city, arranging everything according to what he determined they needed.
What he could not hear, lost as he was in the dream of his prosperous city, were the conversations his subjects held each night in lowered voices.
"That tyrant reinforced the western wall again. I used to be able to lie down there and feel the sun. Now there's just another thick barrier."
"I heard every brick and tile in this city was built from the dreams inside his head. Just thinking about that is enough to make my skin crawl. What does he even dream about?"
"Protection, he calls it. It's a prison."
"I am exhausted from having to go and pay him homage every morning. Does he genuinely believe any of us actually want to be here?"
-------
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