Chapter Text
Eyes closed, he can still remember it all too vividly. The harsh, metallic scent, somewhere between blood and bleach, that burned his nose and made his head spin. The deafening static that drowned out all logic, urging him onward, deeper into chaos, further into the Abyss.
Childe rarely recounted the memory aloud, but when he did, he introduced it by reminding the listener of how it felt fighting an Abyss mage. Some people withstand it better than others, but nearly everyone could recall the same inexorable tug towards violence - how the grating laughter gets into your head, directs all your thoughts towards killing the hateful inhuman thing in front of you. Most people can’t explain it, even once it’s been clearly pointed out to them. They write the feeling off as simple frustration, maybe a bit of exhausted hysterics after hammering away at the durable magical ward for so long.
He knows better, though. It’s the smell. It’s that unidentifiable odor that lingers in the air around Abyssal magic, a faint remnant of the roiling chaos lying just under the surface. It chokes you, turns breathing into a laborious, agonizing ordeal. It begs you to give in, to succumb to the swirling mass of chaotic emotion feeding the ley lines that criss-cross Teyvat and give rise to magic. It is hostile, it decays your rationality, chipping away at your natural inclination towards order and balance. It demands blood.
There’s hardly any research into the effects of Abyssal magic, not that Childe would have the patience to read it even if it had existed. Sumeru scholars and Harbinger research alike looked only to divine magic, seeking to harness the forces of order and control over that of raw, unpredictable chaos. Divine magic had purpose, higher intent. Cerebral and orderly systems that humans might begin to wield in their own right. What use did scholars have for chaos, after all? The emotions governing Abyssal forces were too subjective, too hard to measure and record.
How would you quantify desire for destruction anyways? The Abyss governs hate, fear, and passion, all of which are too deeply intertwined with the human experience to isolate and study properly. In cases of incidental exposure, like running up against an Abyss mage or two, the effects dissipate too quickly to be worth mentioning. It flew under the magical science radar entirely, lurking, waiting for a chance to embed itself in human minds.
None of those magical scientists ever stopped to ask what kind of effects prolonged exposure to Abyssal magic might have on a person. It didn’t matter though, because Childe already knew the effect first hand.
.
When the Tsaritsa assigned him the Geo archon as his target, he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d known how well it suited him. Who better to take down the progenitor of order in Teyvat than him, one of those rare few who’d tasted the bitter truth of the Abyss, who understood the purpose and inevitability of chaos in this world, who wanted to see that divinity crumble to pieces.
He had no particular love for either the Abyss or the Celestial. Neither extreme suited him - the Abyss was too quick to destroy things he held dear and Celestia was too unfeeling, the detached logic of the gods that neither knew nor cared about the blind spots in their perfect heavenly system. Still, the thought of being the one to tear apart the very foundations of divine order in Teyvat held a certain delicious appeal. Maybe the Abyss had poisoned his brain a little back then, with the way he relished the opportunity. Not that he cared, so long as he got his way in the end.
Alone in his quarters halfway between his familiar frozen shores and unknown Liyue harbors, Childe laughs, a little too loud, a little too wildly. Exactly like himself.
.
Liyue is too hot, Childe concludes after his first day. The sun is always out, bearing down on the land too brightly for his taste. He prefers the soft cover of clouds and snow, always dim enough to conceal rough edges. In Liyue, everything was out in the open, on display and ready to be bought by the highest bidder. It almost seemed too easy, like mora was the only thing standing between him and any objective he might desire.
Knowing the gods, they didn’t even see the glaring blindspot, just waiting for someone to take advantage of it. That’s why he was there, why he’d been born. To find that weak point and hit it with everything he had. The era of gods was at an end. Soon, this world would see a new era, the era of Ajax the destruction.
.
He’s drunk, he realizes. He hadn’t meant to be. He’d even promised the bored looking teller that he’d be in early tomorrow morning for a briefing, nothing major but enough to give her an idea of what to expect now that a Harbinger would be directly overseeing her work. Well, he thinks with a laugh. Missing the first meeting because he was out drinking set the tone rather nicely. Kept expectations low.
It’s while he’s standing there, wondering whether to give her advance warning that he won’t make that morning meeting, that he happens to catch sight of a standoff at the entrance. Some bourgeois bastard trying to get in, the guard at the door staunchly refusing him access.
He listens in on the exchange, never one to look away from a potential fight. The guard insists all guests must have a reservation. He cracks a grin at that, knowing full well he’d skipped to the front of the line this evening with a particularly generous offer of mora. The guy trying to get in looks like he should’ve been able to cough up the coin to bribe his way in, but he seems totally vexed.
“I’m meeting someone here,” the man starts to explain.
Childe snorts. A lie that weak would never work on a hired grunt like this, neither here or at home. The guard firmly blocked the entrance.
“It’s an absolutely essential appointment, the security of Liyue itself may depend on my keeping it,” the man continues urgently. The guard remains entirely nonplussed.
Childe doesn’t care to distinguish between the unexpectedly potent Liyue alcohol or a pure love for chaos. He walks up to the guard, tapping him on the shoulder.
“Actually, he’s with me,” he announces. The guard blinks, looking back and forth between the drunk Snezhnayan “diplomat” who paid his way in for the night and the mild mannered Liyue aristocrat trying to get in for free. Childe smiles back cordially, with a practiced glint of icy Harbinger malice. The guard relents, obviously remembering the substantial sum Childe provided for his own entry.
.
“I’m in your debt,” he says, once seated at Childe’s table.
“Don’t mention it,” Childe replies with a lazy shrug. “It’s bullshit that you can only get in on bribes anyways.”
The man considers the claim thoughtfully before offering his measured response.
“True, it’s a shame that such exquisite cuisine is only accessible to those with the excess mora to spare. Surely, it’s abuse of the system Rex Lapis intended.”
Childe snorts again. “I’m sure he doesn’t think about it all that much up in Celestia. Probably better things for gods to spend their time on than worrying about humans bribing each other for a fancy meal once in a while.” If he weren’t so drunk, Childe might have noticed the odd look the man gave him, or the uncomfortable silence that followed. Instead, the pause escapes him entirely and he continues chatting. “Speaking of which, why’d you have so much trouble getting in? You look like the sort of guy who could pay his way into whatever the hell he wanted.”
“Ah,” the stranger admits with a quiet chuckle. “You’re right, that sort of thing is what I’m accustomed to. Unfortunately for me, I seem to have forgotten my wallet this evening.”
Childe downs the last of his drink with a dramatic flourish. “Forgetting your wallet in Liyue, huh? Awfully careless mistake, don’t ya think? Who knows what’ll happen to you, depending on the goodwill of your fellow citizen like that.”
“Indeed, I can only hope that I’ve fallen into good company tonight,” the man replies evenly.
“Hah,” Childe laughs. “We’ll see about that, huh? What’s your name, anyways?”
“I go by Zhongli. And you?”
“Call me Childe.”
“It’s a pleasure.”
“Want a drink?”
“Please, if you’re willing to accommodate my carelessness a bit further.”
“Sure, why not?” Childe shrugs. “You’re the most interesting thing that’s happened to me tonight.”
.
If he hadn’t made such steady progress through several bottles of whatever this drink was, Childe might have noticed that the mysterious, well spoken stranger he’d just met was not only keeping up with his pace of drinking but even surpassing it, all while maintaining impressive composure. It might have made him wonder about the strength of the drinks being served, or whether this was all an elaborate prank meant to catch him unawares.
Instead, his attention was firmly affixed on Zhongli’s intensely focused gaze and the graceful way he brought his hand to his lips when he paused to think about something. Rather than wonder at how surprisingly amenable this Liyue stranger was to his irreverent commentary on the divine, Childe found himself saying whatever wild heresies he could think of, just to see the new expressions they caused.
“I mean, you ever think about what would happen if all the archons were to just up and choke one day?” he suggests with a woozy laugh. “Especially here, where they’re practically obsessed with their god. Like, what would they even do with all the Rex Lapis figurines if he died?”
The mention of Liyue’s thriving marketplace of stone dragon carvings brings a genuine chuckle to his guest’s face. Blind to the harsh glares from the patrons around them, Childe thinks to himself that the smile his joke earned is worth all the mora he spent getting in here in the first place.
“True, Liyue is especially attached to their archon,” Zhongli admits. “But perhaps it’s the archon that should be held accountable there, checking in on them every year like an overbearing parent.”
“Yeah. Personally I think the Anemo archon is the only one who got it right, letting people decide shit for themselves. Hands off, no pretentious divine will guiding their lives. That’s how people should live.”
“And yet the city of Mondstat has faced much suffering that divine intervention might have averted. What is the point of gods, if not to save mortals from unnecessary pain?”
“Kids don’t learn until they get hurt on their own terms. You can’t save them from that, otherwise they’ll just keep making the same mistakes. We don’t need gods stepping in to satisfy their own heavenly egos, just the time to make and learn from our own failures.”
“Some theologists would say you underestimate the kind of horror that lurks in the abyss. That we need divinity to protect us from such unspeakable evils.”
“And to that I’d say, don’t underestimate humanity. I’m tougher than I look. We’re tougher than we look. And if you settle for anything less, you’re a fucking pussy.”
“That’s a bold claim.”
“Trust me, I have the experience to back it up.”
“I’d love to know what gives you such certainty.”
“Not drunk enough for that. Another time.”
“I’d appreciate it, if the opportunity arises.”
.
Childe wakes up an hour into his scheduled meeting with Ekaterina, awoken by heavy, insistent knocking. He stumbles across the room and opens the door, blinking blearily at the Fatui agent informing him of his lateness.
“I’ll be right there,” he grumbles, slamming the door with what he hopes is enough finality to send the guy away. He swears to himself sourly for having such a careless night, spending god knows how much on alcohol for some random guy he’ll never see again. The bastard had up and disappeared on him too, before he could even suggest they go home together. Fucking typical of Liyue, for him to get played for a few drinks and stood up. He should've known better than that.
As he heads down to his briefing, he resolves to never fall for that shit again while he's here.