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When Osial stood victorious over the claws and teeth of bloodshed, the god-slayer known as Morax, it wasn't as if he felt like he was any kind of victor. No, he was no hero that put down the raging beast, he was simply another monster. The only thing that divided him and his slain foe was that he was simply the one that survived. Were it any other, Osial would have allowed Morax's allies to mourn for his body (for reasons unknown, he had so many allies) but beasts such has he have a bit of a habit of not staying dead.
The goddess of dust cried out as the vortex of water stole her friend into the depths. Osial whipped his serpentine neck around and grimaced, biting his tongue. He hadn't the heart to tell her that beings such as himself and Morax loved no one, for they had no capacity for such a thing. She blamed herself for Morax's fall, claiming that she had been the reason he threw himself into battle - a contract with her, to protect her and the land they dreamed of creating. Morax's face is still frozen in a snarl as it sinks beneath the wine-dark depths, and Osial wonders how Guizhong had convinced herself that monsters could feel so strongly as to understand 'self-sacrifice'.
Wordlessly, he dips again beneath the sea, abandoning a shattered land to its own devices as he begun to circle Teyvat beneath the sapphire ocean. The battle had exhausted him, and the trench he had sealed Morax's body in had taken much of his energy to create. Very few beasts felt so at home beneath the waves, and so this is where he would gather himself.
He clashes with the other deities only a few more times before the war comes to a shuddering halt, and he finds himself emerging from the thrashing sea to meet with a fragile wind spirit that came to him bearing a proposal.
(That wind spirit ended up being a god slayer of his own, though Osial could at least understand why the people saw him as a revolutionary instead of simply another warring creature.)
All land came from the sea. Osial had seen it for himself; lava spewed from the earth, solidifying into stone in the blistering water. He had watched eruptions create islands, life emerging from the depths of darkness. When Barbatos spoke of the seven survivors of the war (Seven? When had so many perished? Had the war claimed that many?) claiming dominion over the seven elements, he shouldn't have been so surprised when he found the powers of Geo resting in his claws.
(He would still resent the Hydro god for some time, as he figured that was an element that suited him far better.)
The land south of Barbatos' new kingdom was that of magnificent stone structures, as well as the burial ground for many the gods slain by the beast he had defeated. Since the war god's death, the people had been under siege by the enraged Adepti, his demigod kin, and those who still survived lived lives that were spent hidden and afraid.
But this was the land that the other 'archons' had promised to him, and he would not allow any other beasts to take it from him. The ichor of the adepti stained his claws and left a trail in his wake as he went to guide his people to the edges of the ocean; for though he ruled the earth, all is born from the depths. Other gods nurtured their lands, taught the people and provided for them, but Osial was different. He had no illusions about being anything other than a dragon, a creature of war and strength. His kingdom was his territory, his people the treasures of his hoard, and his duty was simply to protect them.
The people eventually named the land 'Liyue', after two different styles of combat common among those who resided there. Osial didn't much care for what any of them did, as long as none of his foes encroached on his land.
Osial hasn't been called upon to defend Liyue in many years, because the people do quite a fine job at defending themselves.
A traveler speaks to the wind spirit, now a forgotten god, and says they need to meet with all of the archons to save a beloved sibling. Liyue is the logical next stop, due to the shared borders, but it is a dangerous one. The people of Liyue are cold despite the temperate climate, and their warriors are seasoned from centuries of following in the blood-stained footsteps of their warlike god. They are cold and hostile, and though their borders remain cautiously open, it is unwise to simply wander through and expect hospitality.
But the traveler has a destiny. There is something they have lost, something that is worth the risk to find.
The traveler nearly dies on the second day of their journey into Liyue. The local militia of a fortified town decide that a suspicious outsider isn't a risk they're willing to humor and they descend upon them with weapons drawn. Alone and outnumbered, the traveler should have simply retreated.
(But they couldn't, there was something here they needed.)
At the same time, another outsider stepped foot onto the docks of Liyue harbor. A diplomat from the distant, snowy land of Sneznhaya, simply here to help improve foreign relations. No one believed that, of course - not the militia that greeted him or even the diplomat himself. No, humility wasn't what worked here. He stared down a Geo battle mage - she was a tall, intimidating woman, her gaze as solid as the stones that floated between her fingers - and decided to re-attempt his introduction.
He grinned sharply, a flash of cruel ambition illuminating his dull eyes, and he introduced himself as Tartaglia, the 11th Fatui Harbinger. Most importantly, he introduced himself as a fellow warrior, a finely-honed weapon in heart and soul.
Though the gazes upon him were still hostile, he felt within them a new degree of respect.
A traveling mercenary made his home not far outside the city walls of the main harbor. He wore light armor in shades of bronze and black, a stark contrast to the cascades of long, unkempt blue hair that he often pulled hastily back - he couldn't be bothered to cut it, but anything that could block his sight during a battle would surely prove to be problematic, after all. A Geo vision sat chained to his hip, and innumerable bodies lay beneath the earth in the wake of his attacks, for he had a fondness for watching them struggle as the ground swallowed them up and crushed them.
Long ago, the mercenary's name had been Osial. That was a time before the people of Liyue had hardened enough to protect themselves without a god. Now, his name was Shen, and the only thing divine within him was the Gnosis that sat in place of his heart.
He went into the harbor only occasionally, spending his shards (polished pieces of sea crystal, one of many currencies in Teyvat) on drink, one of the few luxuries the people allowed themselves. He could watch the sun set across the water, one of the few angles where the horizon could be seen uninterrupted by fortified walls. One evening, as he sipped baijiu and watched the sea paint itself a familiar red, a foreign man took a seat beside him.
This man - he called himself 'Childe', yet admitted openly that wasn't his real name - talked far more than anyone in Liyue ever would. Shen contributed little to the conversation, yet listened intently, curious. He shared drinks with this 'Childe' several times, yet learned only a small bit about him.
He did learn that he had family at home, though. Family that he loved very much. After a few too many, he admitted in a rush that they were the reason he fought as fearlessly as he did. Without thinking, Shen asked if he would die for them, and with a lopsided, joyless grin Childe confirmed that he would.
(Once again, Shen couldn't help but be fascinated by what could drive someone to self-sacrifice.)
The traveler survived and somehow met Childe, which led to them eventually meeting Shen.
They wanted to meet Osial, the elusive, warlike god of Liyue, to find out anything they could about the disappearance of their sibling. If Shen had ever made any attempt at humanity, he may have felt bad for deceiving them when he said he knew nothing about the Geo god's whereabouts, but he didn't much feel anything as the lies slid out of his mouth. He had no responsibility to mankind, and Liyue could defend itself fine now. Shen had no reason to reveal himself unless time proved it would be necessary.
It turned out that Childe was just as determined to find Osial, though for less admirable reasons. Shen sat back and watched as the pair scoured the entirety of Liyue chasing clues, perfectly content in leaving them to their endless pursuit.
One night there's an earthquake. In his cabin, Shen feels a distinct chill.
Osial was rarely seen, but would emerge when Liyue was threatened. That was a truth everyone knew.
(He didn't expect Childe to take advantage of that fact.)
The earth shook as the seas parted, with a giant, half-skeletal form clawing its way out of the vortex Shen had created millennia ago. Cursing his luck under his breath, he once again returned to his duties. Shedding his human form, he met the undead and enraged Morax in battle, churning the seas and half-drowning the city he was fighting to protect.
He wondered only briefly why Morax would throw himself right back into battle the moment he was revived, but he supposed the battle that had taken place so long ago had never ended at all from his perspective.
Morax fought with all of the rage of the long-ended war, but Shen - no, Osial - was more powerful. Though his wounds were grievous, he found himself victorious, once again sealing his vicious opponent beneath the waves.
He returned to wearing Shen's skin, using the chaos as cover, and limped back to his cabin to nurse his battered body. Childe waited there, sitting at an old, battered table with a knowing smirk. Shen caught on quickly to the situation, and idly wondered if the main driving force of the plan was to draw him out of hiding or to simply exhaust him. Perhaps it was both.
Shen fought back as best as he could, but there was no chance for him in his current state. Childe smiled and apologized in a casual, friendly tone as he slit his old drinking buddy's throat and pulled the Gnosis out of his chest.
(Childe could've taken it without killing him. The murder was simply self-indulgence.)
He heard rain drum hard against the roof of his cabin as Childe walked out, idly twirling the gnosis in his hands as if it were a simple toy. Shen, Osial, a dying god - he simply lay on the dirt floor as blood slowly drained from his throat, shimmering divine ichor just like what he had drawn from Morax and the Adeptus all those centuries ago.
There were horrors contained beneath the earth - dead gods, entombed demons, countless mortal victims slain for drinking money - and now, they would be joined by one more.