Time rewound slightly.
Lynn split off a portion of his origin and fed it into Teyvat's planetary will.
The entire planet was the body of its will, and the atmosphere was part of it as well. In theory, dispersing the origin into the air would have worked just fine.
But to be safe, he injected it deep underground.
The effect was immediate.
The planetary will, which had been in such a miserable state that one might wonder how it was still alive, suddenly regained vitality. From the perspective of a world, critical parts of it began to recover rapidly.
The amount of origin wasn't large. After all, Lynn's world had just been born and lacked reserves, and he still needed to maintain his own stability.
But for Teyvat, it was more than enough.
It pulled its condition from the brink of death back into a relatively stable state.
More importantly, due to the vast difference in level, the effect of absorbing Lynn's origin wasn't a one-time boost. It was more like gaining a passive regeneration effect—subtle, but long-lasting.
"Thank… you… newborn… great existence…"
After recovering slightly, Teyvat immediately expressed its gratitude.
Like someone recovering from a long illness, its condition was still poor, and even a simple expression of thanks came out haltingly.
But it had to do so.
Because the moment it absorbed that fragment of origin, it understood both its own situation and Lynn's level.
"What… can I… do… for you?"
After expressing gratitude, it sent a clear inquiry.
It wanted to repay him.
Faced with such initiative, Lynn was briefly surprised, then gained a clearer understanding of himself—and of how world-level entities interacted.
Was Teyvat being generous?
Not really.
It was clinging to a stronger force.
Though Lynn preferred to describe such beings as "simple," from a human perspective, "primitive" might be more accurate.
As macro-level wills, whether planetary or cosmic, they had no concept of morality. Survival of the fittest was their fundamental logic.
Lynn dared to reveal himself and seek investment from the universe because his scale was too small to matter.
Like someone dying of thirst might fight over a drop of water, but wouldn't care about a single molecule—it simply wasn't worth it.
With Teyvat, however, his advantage lay in his higher level.
Between worlds, only entities of equal level needed to compete in scale. The reason Teyvat could absorb his origin wasn't because it had the ability—it was because Lynn allowed it.
And now, Teyvat had realized that this newly born higher-level existence had not only refrained from exploiting it—regardless of whether Lynn currently had the ability—but had even shown goodwill.
Simply put, it wanted to align itself with him.
Because for a world, the fundamental priorities were simple: first survival, then development.
Following Lynn offered both.
"Hmm…"
Lynn reorganized his thoughts before responding.
The other party was too proactive. He had originally prepared an entire set of persuasive lines, even something along the lines of "Teyvat, you wouldn't want to disappear from the universe, would you?"—but now, none of that was needed.
It also meant he could raise his demands.
Originally, his proposal had been: "Support my growth, invest in me, and I'll bring you great returns. Care to take the gamble?"
But now…
"Become my subordinate. Conceal my existence to avoid detection by the universe's rejection instinct. Provide resources to help me grow. Once I pass my infancy, I'll take you with me."
"I… am willing… to serve you."
Teyvat responded without hesitation. Its speech had already become noticeably smoother.
At the same time, Lynn felt the pale white radiance surrounding him—the pressure of rejection—begin to fade.
Teyvat, through its planetary will, was shielding his world incarnation.
Like a disciple using their residence to hide something from the sect's protective formation.
From the perspective of the universe, this was undoubtedly betrayal.
But for Teyvat, it was simply a necessary choice for survival.
However, this action clearly came at a cost.
Lynn could see that its condition, which had just stabilized, weakened again slightly.
Under normal circumstances, this would have been the extent of what it could do—
Boom.
A deep, resonant tremor echoed at the level of laws themselves.
Teyvat made another move.
And this time, the scale of it far exceeded anything before.
If Lynn still had a face, he would have been staring in shock.
He watched as Teyvat forcibly tore off a portion of itself—like ripping away a damaged limb—and transformed it into a crimson crystal. The crystal merged into the outer layer of his world incarnation, forming a protective barrier.
Along with it came a message:
"I apologize, my lord. The consumption was greater than expected. I need to rest. Please accept this portion of authority. It will allow you to draw upon some of my power—and even a portion of power not originally mine—reducing the chances of your own power attracting attention."
"It may also assist you in other ways…"
After receiving the message, Lynn fully understood what the crystal was.
It was the remaining half of the Pyro Authority.
The other half had been taken by the Heavenly Principles.
This portion originally belonged to the Pyro Dragon Sovereign. But after the first Pyro Dragon King fell—though remnants of its body and consciousness might have merged with the Abyss—Teyvat would never acknowledge that.
The authority had returned to the planet, awaiting the next Pyro Dragon King.
But since no successor existed yet, the awakened planetary will had temporarily entrusted it to Lynn.