This was the end.
The place closest to Liyue's heart.
At last they had reached the deepest point of The Chasm, where the very concepts of time and space blurred.
By using the Fantastic Compass to amplify this space and seal it forever, all the filth of Liyue would be buried eternally in the deepest strata.
The boy cradled Bosacius's remains and looked down into the fathomless abyss at his feet. Darkness heaved below for myriad miles; pallid blue strata piled upon themselves, casting wavering ghost-shadows. There was nothing else.
The seeped-out portion of the filth clung to the boy. He clenched his teeth; fine sweat beaded his cheeks; he coughed up blood.
Ganyu stared blankly at Bosacius—the man looked as if asleep, a smile still lingering at his lips, long pale-cyan hair spilling to the ground. Only when her senior brother slept forever did Ganyu suddenly realize he had truly grown old.
The crow's-feet at his eye corners, the thick calluses on his knuckles, the faint whitening at his temples—all said this man was already old.
He had toiled for a lifetime; now he could finally retire in peace.
"Ganyu."
Seino Yaku was not good at comforting others. He asked, tentatively, "…Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
Ganyu answered calmly. "I truly am."
"What's more, my affairs have nothing to do with you."
She seemed to have calmed, to have accepted the fact. Her shoulders no longer trembled; her gaze returned to its former composure. She glanced at Seino Yaku and said, "I'm well."
"Mortal, this has nothing to do with you."
From the moment she saw Bosacius killed, Ganyu's emotions had been a blank—her heart hollow, her whole self weightless, as if stepping on soft, empty cotton, devoid of any sense of reality.
No sense of reality.
Now Bosacius lay before her.
Instinctively she averted her eyes, unwilling to look again.
But in that instant she turned aside, the boy let go, and the body fell.
Ganyu could feel her heart sinking with that body, falling and falling. Darkness in the abyss covered Bosacius's face, slowly swallowing him. At the same time Ganyu felt her own heart sink into that endless black.
"I really… am fine."
What came next was to activate the Fantastic Compass.
How to do it—the Human Principles System had already taught the boy the necessary art.
This immortal instrument was peculiar: it required both immortal and mortal power at once. Bosacius had cultivated for six hundred years and been eroded by Yaksha karma; this body of his could be called an "immortal husk." That was the immortal.
And he, as a mortal, had once more trod the human world. That was the mortal.
The Fantastic Compass quivered lightly, giving off a dim glow that resonated with the layered rock.
As Bosacius sank, the filth slumbering in his shell grew ever more restless. It rampaged within him; the towering foulness struggled against the fetters of his form. The fearsome sight reflected in Ganyu's eyes—
Bosacius was burning—burning as he fell.
The filth tore at his flesh; chaos-black seeped from his seven orifices; blood trailed long smears across the rock wall. Bosacius's features were already indistinct.
Ganyu's heart seemed to burn as well. At last she found a sense of reality. She suddenly wanted to look upon Bosacius one last time—to see him, if only once more—but she could not. His body turned to ash, dissolving into the air like melting fine snow, merging with Liyue's soil.
No…
Only now, in this moment, did she feel immense grief.
Hundreds of thousands of strands of filth shattered the fetters; a tide of foulness surged upward. It was grotesque, frenzied. The Compass's seal was not yet complete; the filth was about to burst free.
"Suppress." The boy gazed calmly at the filth about to break loose.
Stone, bearing a cataclysmic force, pressed down upon the endless filth—thousands of tons, tens of thousands, hundreds of millions—boulders piling one upon another, wrapped into the grandest, heaviest mountain range—this mountain was the transformation of Bosacius's immortal husk.
From the mountain he came; to the mountain he would return. He loved this soil, and would become this soil.
When a person dies, they are buried—in a grave, in the earth. Over long ages, the body is wholly broken down and merges with the land. In Liyue they call it "fallen leaves returning to their roots." Such is a human life—such was Bosacius's life.
This was both the rite to seal the filth—and Bosacius's funeral.
I am Bosacius.
What if life slips by in a breath—Let thousand warriors find their rest.
The filth roared, raving. Layer upon layer of rock shattered. It could crush the mountain that was Bosacius's body, but could no longer reach beyond the abyss. Time and space, amplified again and again, blurred and twisted—space without bound, time without limit. In the infinite, they could never touch that seal.
The filth fell back. The mountain's corpse slammed into it. The rubble piled into a new mountain. Ganyu stared, stunned, at the colossal peak.
It stood right before her.
She lowered her gaze. Deep within her eyes, the gilt hue grew thicker.
So vast.
So… beautiful.
Bosacius was dead, buried in the soil. The mountain was the tombstone of his life.
Towering and steadfast, it rooted in Liyue's deepest earth, suppressing Liyue's deepest pain. For a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand years to come, it would guard Liyue forever, forever keeping its oath.
Before that mountain she could say nothing. None of them spoke.
Perhaps one should call it… a funeral's silent mourning.
Mr. Zhongli lowered his eyes, mourning his friend. Deathly silence spread; among the layered giants of rock there was no sound. Even the air seemed to halt.
After a time—
The mountain slowly vanished. The space there was sealed forever by the Fantastic Compass. The abyss faded from before them. After a few brief instants, the place was empty, only the dial standing upon the boundless earth.
Everything had ended.
The pale-cyan-eyed boy exhaled. He coughed violently, face ashen, as though he would cough out his lungs. He wiped the blood from his lips, straightened, glanced one last time at the seal—and showed a wan smile.
"Let's go."
So he said, dragging weary steps, walking outward one pace at a time. As he walked, he murmured:
"Sumeru… still have to go to Sumeru…"
The traveler set out again. He left the abyss; the rain had stopped; cool, splendid moonlight washed over him. He walked toward the moonlight's farthest reach.
The final projection recorded by the Fantastic Compass ended as well.
"This journey is over," Mr. Zhongli said softly. "The Compass has sealed them. To open this seal, the strength of both human and adeptus is required."
Yes—over. Bosacius had died; the filth was buried. All stories had ended in perfection.
Yet Seino Yaku faintly sensed that the journey was not over—for his promise was not yet fulfilled.
The promise was not complete.
[Seventh Covenant]
[Please proceed to The Chasm…]
A most ambiguous promise.
He and Lumine had reached The Chasm, yet had not found the one to meet. Mr. Zhongli? No. Xiao? Impossible… Ganyu? Was Ganyu the one who made the promise with him?
Seino Yaku did not know. He looked at the adeptus maiden's back—and, inexplicably, felt uneasy.
A unease… from he knew not where.
As if he had overlooked something.
"Rex Lapis," Ganyu said softly, "where is Bosacius now?"
"…What?" Mr. Zhongli was surprised.
"The boy in Sumeru died…" Ganyu lowered her eyes, murmuring like an obsession. "But… perhaps, later, I can find the next him—even if he is no longer him."
Hope is always the most beautiful remedy.
So that's it, Seino Yaku thought.
Who last sealed the filth, who activated the Fantastic Compass—was all but spoken aloud.
"It's time to go," Mr. Zhongli said. "Those fated to reunite will reunite. But when you see him again, perhaps you will not recognize him."
He chose not to reveal Seino Yaku's true identity to Ganyu—not for lack of willingness, but because it should be Seino Yaku's decision. In all things, the Archon respected his friend's choice.
Never recognize him again.
Never recognize him…
Ganyu shook her head, lips pressed tight. She clenched her hem by reflex, stubborn. "I will recognize him. If I can taste his cooking once more… I will know."
"He loved to cook most…"
In her deep-golden eyes a heavy hue seemed to rise.
Yes, perhaps she was right—taste is an unchanging memory. Deep on the tongue of remembrance, people's memories meet and meet again.
But Ganyu did not know that she had once had that chance—on that New Year, on Mt. Aocang bathed in sunset gold; everyone was there: her master, her junior, that man… all as it was two millennia ago. The Jewelry Soup sent up a faint fragrance.
And most regrettably, she had not recalled what she had forgotten—those neglected details.
Seino Yaku looked at Ganyu—then noticed Lumine holding his hand.
What should he choose?
Should he tell the truth?
Would Ganyu believe him? Perhaps it would be hard to accept—that she had forgotten all of Bosacius and that he was but a stranger, seen twice in this life…
And to him, Ganyu was a stranger too.
Perhaps the Archon would vouch for him?
Would Ganyu trust the Archon's words? Or take them once more as deceit?
She said that upon reunion she could recognize him—but she had not.
She did not even like him… Seino Yaku could feel it.
Bosacius was dead—why invite humiliation?
Yet that too was a kind of hurt and pain.
Should he keep silent?
But this time was different from La Signora—though Seino Yaku had already forgotten her, and forgotten Mondstadt.
He had concealed himself from La Signora to spare her harm. Then he was already fatally ill—the evil ice she left aboard ship had ruined his lungs, and with the grinding attrition he would die of it sooner or later.
—So he hid his identity, so she would not know the one she slew had been her former beloved.
But this time—it was different.
He should confess, even if it meant humiliation.
…It was what he should do.
What he must do.
Whether Ganyu believed him or not—Seino Yaku ought to say it. It was his responsibility. Not to receive her apology, but to tell her, as "Bosacius": "You truly have done well. You need not blame yourself."
Bosacius died with apology to Ganyu; Seino Yaku had to atone.
For Ganyu truly had done no wrong. Though she ruined Bosacius's plan and burdened him with karma across two lives, she did it to protect Liyue.
Perhaps this was the seventh promise.
He glanced at Lumine. She met his eyes and nodded.
Miss Lumine was kind; she supported his choice.
"Ganyu."
At last Seino Yaku's lips moved.
Ganyu paused and turned to him.
"Jewelry Soup. That was the dish, wasn't it?"
In Seino Yaku's pale-blue eyes her profile was reflected, clear and flawless. The chill night breeze lifted his light hair. He said softly, "I've made it too. Would you like to taste it again?"
Ganyu froze.
She was no fool; she understood at once. Instinctively she looked to Mr. Zhongli. He gave her a small nod.
After a while, she said softly, "No…"
No—no…
Perhaps this, too, was just to comfort her.
They had hidden the truth for two thousand four hundred years—to comfort her, to let the Yaksha and her live with an easy heart.
Would she truly fail to recognize him? How could she…?
A stubborn, final obsession.
Her only hope. She wanted to apologize properly—yet she could not even recognize her senior. Those words of hurt she had spoken… It could not be so. If it were—then she truly was… too pitiful.
This time, as before on Mt. Aocang, she had, time and again before Seino Yaku, called that man a sinful adeptus, a traitor… time and again shown hate. If Seino Yaku really was Bosacius… how could she be forgiven?
How… absurd?
She refused to admit it.
"You are not," Ganyu said softly.
Yet—
"Never believe only what you wish to believe."
That letter—the letter from Inazuma—its final line surfaced inexplicably in Ganyu's mind. This was what Yae Miko wished to tell her. Never trust only what you want to trust… which is to say—
Try believing what you do not wish to believe.
"But…" Ganyu looked at Seino Yaku, earnestly. "I'm willing to taste it again."
"Good," Seino Yaku smiled.
Lumine planted hands on hips and huffed lightly. "Hmph—there's a fee! No free samples!"
The curtain fell.
"Let's go," Xiao murmured. He turned his back to Seino Yaku, eyes lowered. After a long moment he added slowly, "If there's an extra portion… let me try it as well."
It was over. Time to leave.
It seemed a very tidy ending.
Seino Yaku was the second-to-last to step out of the cavern. The chill firelight glared off the rocks. Suddenly his steps halted—for the seventh promise was not fulfilled.
He looked back on instinct—and saw Ganyu still standing there, back to him, facing the Fantastic Compass. Ghost-cold firelight spread, dyeing everything in shadow. Seino Yaku noticed her profile; in her eyes remained only a daylight-like molten gold.
"All of this is false," Ganyu said suddenly. "All illusions."
"I don't believe it. You're all deceiving me."
"I cannot be wrong."
Her voice was icy:
—"Mortal, you are not Bosacius."
He suddenly remembered something.
The Fantastic Compass required one human and one adeptus working together to operate.
At least two individuals—one alone could not succeed.
But Ganyu was different.
She was a half-adeptus beast—both human and adeptus.
He realized, aghast, what was happening—and at his side Mr. Zhongli moved even faster.
But it was already too late.
"No… don't… I don't want to—I don't want to do this…"
Ganyu struggled, in pain, desperately fighting the filth rooted in the depths of her soul—the heart-demon that had never stilled, sunk deep into her spirit.
And that demon—or rather, that karma—hid itself well. It disguised itself as a feeble, pleading voice that only swayed a part of her emotions. It deceived Ganyu, made her believe she could control it.
But when had she ever truly cared? The eyes are the emblem of the soul; when her gaze shifted from light violet fully into molten gold, her heart was already being taken.
It hid too well, making everyone believe it was weak as the karma within Xiao—that it could be easily controlled, overcome.
But she was proud—arrogant—and chose to flee, chose to ignore, feeding another self within.
Everyone knew Ganyu might harbor karma—but none knew it had come to this.
And as a heart kept breaking, as one cruel truth after another stood before her, Ganyu's heart wavered again and again. This moment was when she was weakest—the ripest for falling into madness.
It is not merely karma—it is also Ganyu.
Ganyu had to admit: this was also truly her.
"I never had any karma"—so she had claimed.
Hence, "concealing her own condition" became the second thing in her life she most regretted.
And she would bear the price of that pride.
A geo spear came with peerless might—but Ganyu had already touched the edge of the Fantastic Compass.
"Don't," she said, trembling.
Yet her lips curved in a smile. In her molten-gold gaze blazed a noonday light; the richest emotion and the deepest darkness coexisted there—sickly, chaotic.
Smiling, Ganyu intoned someone's name: "Senior Brother, I've come to see you."