Deep within The Chasm the sun could not be seen; the massive rock walls allowed not a thread of light to seep through.
A profound darkness blanketed the pale-blue vault overhead. The raging torrents of flame had calmed, the fire slowly dying and solidifying, leaving behind brownish veins.
It was strange—extraordinarily strange.
Though they were in the mantle's depths, close to molten magma, Ganyu felt only cold—
A rigid, bone-deep cold.
That chill seeped from many places:
It bled from the dead bluish-brown flames, from the countless fissures in the strata, from the corpses of fallen soldiers, from Bosacius's bowed, staggering figure as he took step after laborious step forward—
Seeping out.
A chill enough to freeze the soul.
Every wisp, every thread of it bored into the marrow like a viper, slowly creeping toward the heart.
Of course she felt the cold; biting her lip, shoulders trembling, she dared not look again at Bosacius's back. She sensed that if she kept watching, her resolve would falter.
Bosacius was slaughtering soldiers—yet perhaps slaughter was its own kind of release.
Ganyu clearly saw it: on each soldier Bosacius killed, the corner of the mouth… bore what could almost be called a blissful smile.
Karma… Ganyu recalled the word Bosacius had recited when he left. The foul thing entangled in the soldiers' departing souls—so that was called "karma"?
She had never seen such a thing, nor even heard of it.
Somehow, the very notion of karma had been expunged from history.
Bosacius devoured that karma, so the maddened soldiers were set free; yet in exchange, Bosacius became all the more deranged.
Was all of this still an illusion?
Were these visions still false?
Even now, could Ganyu still convince herself that everything before her eyes was unreal?
More thoughts crowded in: since this karma existed in the soldiers' souls, why did the Yaksha warriors lack it? Was it because their adeptal bodies were stronger?
Or was there some other reason?
No—it could not be.
Through the Archon War, through battles among adepti and innumerable ancient conflicts in Liyue, Yaksha and adepti alike had long harbored that stain called "karma." It had always been so!
More details—details she had ignored, or perhaps chosen to ignore—slowly surfaced:
Why, in his last days before betrayal, had Bosacius withdrawn from the world, sealing himself away in the mountains for nearly ten years? Why did he invite the other Yaksha to visit in turns? Was it truly as Rex Lapis had said—that Bosacius was practicing an evil art?
What had really happened at Sal Terrae?
Had Bosacius, as the fleeing villagers claimed, slaughtered them and attacked the God of Salt?
"Karma."
Just then, Xiao—who had been staring fixedly at Bosacius's back—turned his head. In his gilded eyes Ganyu's face was reflected. He spoke earnestly:
"So the thing inside my heart is called 'karma.'"
That thing… inside your heart!
Ganyu watched Xiao in alarm, subconsciously taking half a step back, lips pressed tight. "Inside your heart?"
"Ever since…" Xiao broke off, as though hesitating, but in the end chose candor.
"Ever since Elder Brother Bosacius fell, I have, by Rex Lapis's decree, guarded the mortal realm through slaughter. As the bloodshed mounted, my state of mind… changed."
"A little savagery, a little turmoil, a little coldness—deeper and deeper." He met her eyes. "It is as if… another, unfamiliar self is slowly being born."
Another unfamiliar self, slowly being born.
Ganyu chewed over the words.
"Have you ever felt this?" Xiao asked solemnly.
I…?
Would she admit it?
That correct voice, that voice she relied on, that voice she chose—was in truth the vilest karma.
Silence.
Her thin lips quivered imperceptibly; her brows knitted. At last she murmured, "I… I have not."
"I have not." Her voice steadied. Lifting her eyes to Xiao, she shook her head. "I have never seen such a thing."
"I see."
Xiao was a forthright Yaksha. He nodded.
"Perhaps that thing is karma."
His tone was calm as he set out his view. "If killing taints one with such filth, why, through the two great wars of gods and adepti, did it never appear?"
"Because, in those days, Elder Brother Bosacius was still here." His gaze pinned Ganyu. "Do you understand what I mean?"
"Ganyu, you were always the wisest—do you understand?"
Ganyu's heartbeat seemed to stop; her breathing quickened, eyes dropping—more memories surged.
Huff… huff.
Her once-unyielding heart—solid as rock—now fissured, crack by crack.
Each crack was tiny, yet they spread across her heart. It seemed that once they linked and received but a gentle tap, her heart would shatter.
Only a gentle tap away.
"Do we still go on?"
Seino Yaku spoke up.
He stared, half dazed, toward the direction Bosacius had gone. "He's already far ahead. That projection has faded."
Bosacius had walked into a deeper abyss; murky darkness swallowed his back, leaving the desolate stratified rock empty.
The youth's pale-blue eyes were clear as water. He could feel that someone awaited him in the very deepest place; soon all would come to light.
Go on…?
Ganyu clenched her sleeves; her gaze trembled. Go on?
They had come this far—continue deeper still…?
She knew what lay ahead, knew all too well. She had tried to forget that place, yet each time she closed her eyes she saw dried blood, congealing eyes.
They were now on The Chasm's penultimate tier; one more descent would reach Liyue's leylines—
The place where Bosacius had died.
"You seem in pain. We should head back."
The boy looked at Ganyu's profile with concern. Somehow he sensed that behind her calm face she was suffering; he could feel Ganyu's heart… and he did not want others to suffer, especially not because of him.
Otherwise he himself would feel uneasy.
Dead is dead. Bosacius… once a comrade, was gone like a lamp snuffed out. Since dead, he should no longer trouble the living.
Bosacius had concealed all, dying as a sinner so that the sorrow of his passing would be minimal.
Let the dead rest, the living live.
That was Bosacius's wish—and Seino Yaku's thought—so he urged Ganyu not to proceed.
"I…" Ganyu met Seino Yaku's blue gaze. That limpid reflection showed her own current state—was she truly so pained?
"No."
She bit down unconsciously. "Why would I be in pain?"
"I have never felt pain." She shook her head stubbornly.
"I will keep witnessing."
Xiao's tone held not a hint of doubt. He watched Seino Yaku earnestly. "I must witness it—I must see that man's final act, even if… it is unpleasant."
Then forward they went.
——
Unexpected.
Utterly unexpected.
Seino Yaku wiped sweat from his cheek, breathing slowly. He froze.
He had pondered endlessly what lay below, made countless hypotheses, yet the outcome exceeded them all.
Waiting on The Chasm's lower tier stood Mr. Zhongli.
Zhongli had clearly sensed the four approaching; he turned slightly, cinnabar eyes reflecting Xiao and Ganyu. Hands clasped behind his back, he stood straight as a pine brushing the clouds.
"You may go no further." His voice was calm. "Stop here."
Go no further.
The words were quiet, tone even—yet within the placid phrasing lay mountain-deep gravity.
No one could ignore his presence; by merely standing he was a solid stone, the Geo around him instinctively bowing at his feet.
"Lord Rex Lapis…?"
Xiao hesitated. He had not expected Rex Lapis to appear, and still less that the Archon would bar their way.
Why?
Rex Lapis did not reply, only watched them; that silence itself was the answer.
So he truly is Rex Lapis…
Seino Yaku regarded Zhongli's imposing figure without much surprise.
Knowing so many secrets, even those of Sal Terrae, and once a familiar of his own—Rex Lapis was the only possibility.
Miss Lumine, though, eyed him skeptically; she could scarcely link the shabby tavern loafer with the Geo Archon…
None of them spoke.
A long silence stretched, molten rock hissing as it melted stones, bubbles rising. Xiao and Rex Lapis locked eyes.
At length Xiao said softly:
"Lord Rex Lapis, I must proceed."
"Return." Zhongli shook his head.
"Why do you bar us?" Xiao grit his teeth. "Is it because… you have always known more?"
He was quick-witted, at once connecting the dots.
Rex Lapis's presence here, his blockade—his wish that they see no more—was itself an answer!
Xiao should have known.
Liyue's history had been edited!
Ganyu too realized it; her heart quivered, those cracks linking.
She had always denied everything as mere illusion, yet now Rex Lapis's appearance shattered her hope.
Anything else could be false—but Rex Lapis could not be forged.
"I have followed you," Zhongli said calmly, "pondering whether to appear… to stop you."
"Because I understand," his voice deepened, "my appearance is an answer too. Yet even so, I show myself… for I do not wish you to advance."
A certain helplessness underlay his tone.
Nothing can be hidden forever.
Once the Fantastic Compass recorded history, once they descended to The Chasm's bottom, Morax knew concealment would fail.
There was another reason: after these long years, he was weary of hiding.
He could not seal the Compass; the dial also imprisoned something far more important—historical echoes were but a side-effect.
If he did not intervene they would reach the deepest place and discover the truth; but appearing to block them revealed that truth as well… thus his hesitation.
In the end he chose to appear.
For the truth and its proof below were not something Xiao and Ganyu—Ganyu especially—could bear.
Golden-slit eyes mirrored lava's flame, deep as dusk's canopy over crimson peaks—profound and fearsome.
"Perhaps the answer already rests in your hearts. Then there is no need to press on."
"What lies below… is beyond what you can endure."
Zhongli's face was solemn. "I reveal myself to uphold the contract—and because I myself do not wish you to go farther."
What…?
Eh…
Ganyu swayed.
Her mind emptied; emotions were gouged out, leaving only blank confusion.
Though she heard every word Rex Lapis spoke, strung together they made no sense.
She gnawed at his sentences, yet the more she did, the more lost she felt.
Contract…?
What contract? Did it involve Bosacius?
What truth was unbearable? Why did he not wish her to go on?
Impossible… impossible…
"Lord Rex Lapis."
Ganyu gritted her teeth, golden eyes fixed on Zhongli.
After a pause she exhaled, regaining composure. "There is nothing I cannot bear. I only trust what I see with my own eyes."
She spoke evenly, face impassive, gaze calm as an autumn pond; yet Seino Yaku noticed her nails digging deep into her flesh.
"I have never cared about such things, nor seen any 'karma.'"
Concealing the vision in her heart was Ganyu's second mistake.
"I am prepared." Xiao met Zhongli's eyes, voice low yet earnest. "Whatever the cost, I will bear it."
"Lord Rex Lapis."
He bowed his head. "Please let me witness."
…Sigh.
Zhongli breathed lightly, words of refusal forming—then stopped, sensing something. He turned, frowning, and murmured:
"It has begun."
He should not have hesitated; he was too late to stop it.
The ley-lines' final memory had begun replaying.
Unlike earlier projections, this one was inscribed by both the dial and the ley-lines, wholly embraced by the soil. Not only sound, image, and sensation were recorded—
Even emotion and thought were carved deep, re-manifested through the Fantastic Compass.
Before Ganyu could ask what had begun, her lips parted—and she froze.
Because—
Because she heard a Voice.
Mad, agonized, struggling voices.
Voices from the depths of one's heart—countless layers of chaotic whispers, illogical mutterings, suppressed and rasping screams, all noise mingling into that man's wildest inner monologue.
"Can't go mad yet.
"Not yet!
"NOT YET!!!
"Help me—no, kill me—no, kill me—
"Who am I…?
"Haha, who am I…?
"Where am I going? Where am I going? Haha, I am, I am who!!"
"Not yet, not yet.
"Cannot die yet.
"Not yet.
"I must reach… that place.
"I will not lose."
They were Bosacius's innermost thoughts, his private soliloquy.
"I must not!"
In Ganyu's trembling eyes she saw that staggering man.
Four arms hanging, razor nails ripping his own flesh; his steps wavering, gaze manic and scattered. He kept moving forward, whispering ceaselessly, asking who he was…
He was in pain—unparalleled pain.
Ganyu had never seen such sorrowful agony. Those whispers around her ears—she heard them only a few breaths, yet already felt unbearable.
That man had endured six hundred years of these voices?
No… she dared not admit it—feared to.
Most terrifying was the aura Bosacius now exuded—an authority so vast she had seen it in only one other.
Rex Lapis, Morax.
If he was this powerful… how had she killed him?
Ganyu did not know.
He trudged on, bearing all Liyue's anguish toward the world's deep. He fell again and again, each time rising, biting his lips until blood seeped.
In his hand he seemed always to clutch something.
…That was?
Ganyu recognized it.
The Fantastic Compass—an instrument that wrought miracles through resonance of mortals and adepti.
What did he mean to do with it?
The answer was plain.
"I will banish…"
A smile split his lips. His humanity was like the last filament of a candle in wind; no matter how the flame burned, it refused to snap, refused to collapse to ash, clinging to that dim yet stubborn glow as he walked on.
"I will banish you."
The Fantastic Compass was, in essence, an amplifier; it could distort pockets of time and space—the so-called historical projections were mere by-products.
At The Chasm's deepest node lay a most bizarre, wondrous zone. Borrowing that place, Bosacius would twist its spacetime with the Compass, forging a seal from which none could ever escape. Having devoured every shard of karma, he would exile it, and himself, together.
Exile them into endless time and infinite space.
Such was Bosacius's fallback—
His only plan now, for the notion of being slain had failed.
Karma within him had swollen monstrously; even if killed, it would not fade—only he would die.
He was fighting.
He could not die yet; he must reach that place.
All Bosacius's thoughts, his plan, flowed into Ganyu's ears; her gaze shook, hollow.
Who am I…
"I am… Bosacius."
He began forgetting again, slowly losing every person, every name… Bosacius did not want this.
He did not want to forget, to lose those precious memories. He had lost everything—these were the only treasures left to him.
He refused to forget.
He had promised a little girl to take her home—he would not forget Qiqi,
Would not forget that woman, that bowl of Jewelry Soup,
Would not forget the God of the Stove uncle, nor those swaying summer days, would not forget.
Would not forget the Lantern Rite gatherings—Bonanus, Alatus, Indarias, Menogias—he would not forget them.
He would not forget the taste of salt grains and sardines; he had promised to drink fine osmanthus wine with Morax next year—he would not forget.
Nor would he forget—
Though he had promised… though he had promised…
Promised to accompany his junior to see next year's lanterns.
He would not forget this promise.
That thought, those longings, those regrets, became seven layers of contract, inscribed deep into his soul.
At the same time, these words, these inner monologues, this pain, crossed two thousand four hundred years to resound in the hearts of those after him, stirring ripples of trembling.
I'm sorry.
I am a useless senior.
I have let you see… such an ugly me. I wished to leave quietly, yet I failed.
I'm sorry.
I do not want to forget you.
I do not want to forget you all.
Not your names.
Ganyu's heart quaked. She saw Bosacius's fingers sink deep into his chest, gripping his heart.
Bosacius could not kill himself, could not crush his heart—he was incapable. Though he still controlled his body, the one thing he could never accomplish was suicide.
All he could do was leave slight scratches, tiny wounds upon his heart.
He was forgetting, yet he refused to. His only resistance was to carve those names.
His body now was too strong; wounds on the skin would heal swiftly. But on that most fragile organ—would the carved words last longer?
Just a little longer. A little would suffice.
[Remaining life (Bosacius): 5 minutes 24 seconds]
If in the final 5 minutes 24 seconds he could remember them—if his memory could last five minutes and twenty-four seconds—
Then he would be satisfied.
He staggered on, his nails etching one mark after another into the soft heart.
'Cloud Retainer'
'Qiqi'
'Havria'
'Xiao'
'Morax'
Name after name.
…
And then—
[Ganyu]
His heart was packed with names—those he loved, those he cherished, those he could not bear to forget. He had written every name, yet there was no room for his own.
No blank space left.
For a mortal heart is very small. When it is filled with others, where can one's own name fit?
In the end Bosacius remembered everyone, yet forgot himself.
"Who… who am I?"
Who am I?
Who am I?
He did not know.
He knew only his goal: with his last scrap of humanity, to reach the deepest place and bury himself—and he was moments from achieving it.
He murmured softly—then suddenly stopped.
As though sensing something.
A helpless smile tugged his lips; mocking and sorrowful. He turned—and saw a bow drawn to the limit, an arrow sharp and gleaming with icy light.
Aimed at… his chest.
At the heart within, scarred with names—
His junior, Ganyu.
At this very moment, she glared at him in hate.
————