Archive of Our Own

Before he fell into the Abyss, Ajax made a promise to himself.

Though there was nobody he could lock fingers with, nobody to hear him speak the words into existence, the promise thudded in his heart, each frantic beat serving as a constant reminder of what he loved most.

(“Weak boy,” Skirk sneered when he finally killed his first creature of the Abyss. “You are too distracted.”

Not distracted, Ajax thought indignantly, even as the slashes along his arms throbbed. Focused—on what actually matters. He had to be; he wanted to make it out alive.)

And when he emerged from that godless, unforgiving place after the days that had felt like months, and fell into the arms of his parents, he fulfilled that promise. Time had passed for him but not his family, and he was not the same Ajax that had fallen. Even now, he could hear the screams of monsters, feel the blood underneath his fingernails, sense the Abyssal energy lingering beneath his skin that was ready to unleash havoc at any moment. But a promise was a promise, and a promise would never change.

So, he made a new promise to himself—another one he would keep for the rest of his life.

When he arrived home, his siblings rushed to hug him, and he relished the special kind of warmth that only family could provide. “I’m okay,” he repeated a million times, laughing, ruffling Teucer’s hair and giving Tonia a kiss on the cheek. “I only got a bit lost, but I made it back safely, see? I’m not going anywhere now.”

They didn’t quite believe him. He hadn’t expected them to, so he wasn’t sure if his words were meant to convince them, or himself. However, seemingly content that he had returned in one piece, they eventually left him alone in his shared room to rest. Ajax peeled off his small pack and well-worn jacket, dropping them on the bed, before making his way over to the mirror.

Haunted blue eyes stared back at him—eyes that had seen too much for a boy who hadn’t even reached his teenage years. The shadows under his eyes reminded him of shadowy realms where the only reflections he had been able to see were distortions in dark, murky water. How long had it been since he had seen his own face like this? How could he look the same, when so much had changed?

Unable to bear it any longer, he looked away, turning his gaze to where the contents of his pack had spilled on the bed. He hadn’t brought much when he set out on his initial journey to chase adventure, and even less had returned.

A golden glow caught his eye—something that had definitely not been there in the Abyss. How and when had it gotten into his pack? Pushing aside a cloth he had used to wipe blood off his face too many times, he picked up the golden object and took a closer look.

It was as if all of the cold Snezhnayan air had suddenly found its way inside the house. Ajax’s hand froze, and he could only watch as the object clattered to the floor.

For a few seconds, the object had warmed his fingers, pulsating with a soft golden glow that he had never seen before. It had a rounded surface, like a smooth gemstone, but thrummed with an unfamiliar energy. Most telling of all, however, was the square emblem in its center—a symbol Ajax had only seen in his siblings’ storybooks.

The Vision resting on the floor of his bedroom seemed to stare back at him. Ajax sank to his bruised knees. The gods had seen him. They had heard him. And even after he had come back from that cursed place, they had decided to recognize him by giving him a power that so many craved.

And not just any god. Morax, if Ajax remembered correctly. The Geo Archon.

Ajax reached for the Vision with his hand. Three months ago, he might’ve been childishly delighted, seeing this as a sign that he was destined to become a great hero like his namesake. Now, the glowing gem was a heavy promise of its own.

Whatever reason the Lord of Geo had for granting a weak, yet ambitious boy in Snezhnaya a fragment of his power, Ajax figured he would never understand. What he now held in his fingers was his ticket to adventure and glory—to growing stronger, day by day.

But it’s a Geo Vision, a small, unwelcome voice said from somewhere within him. Another lingering shadow of the Abyss, perhaps. Recognized by a god that is not your own?

And it was true that in all the times he had dared to dream of being blessed by the gods, Ajax had pictured himself wielding the powers of ice and frost, the element of his country’s lauded goddess. He had heard the tales of the Tsaritsa, as had every kid in Snezhnaya, and had allowed himself to dream. Yet it was not she who had heard his prayer, but another god.

In Snezhnaya, people did not simply give. Gifts held promises of equivalent exchanges at a later date, and favors were repaid out of care and respect. So perhaps the question was not what the Geo Archon had seen in him, but what he wanted from him. He was the God of Contracts, was he not? Ajax’s fingers curled tightly around the Vision, unsure if the voice in his head had spoken out of gratitude, or resentment.

(Later on, he supposed that it could have been worse. He could have been a Hydro Vision bearer in the middle of Snezhnaya’s freezing mountains. How absurd would that have been?

Though it probably would have made ice fishing easier.)

With a penchant for violence since birth and the tricks of the Abyss hidden up his sleeve, Ajax was bound to find his way to the Fatui sooner or later. But a young boy with a Geo Vision made for an even more promising recruit, so it came as no surprise to the family when Fatui agents arrived at their doorstep one day.

His father’s eyes were unreadable as he watched him from within the house, while his mother wrapped a scarf tightly around his neck. A little too tightly, almost—he could feel the red fabric pull taut against his throat each time he so much as gulped. “Take care, Ajax,” she said softly, brushing aside his messy curls and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

His younger siblings had already gone to bed. He had insisted. After all, the Fatui traveled under the cover of darkness, and the hour was far too late for his siblings to be up and about. That was what he had told his parents, at least, and they had agreed, none of them willing to address the real reason. That if Ajax had to say another goodbye after the bedtime story he had given them that night, he would lose the cracks in his shield and become rooted to the spot, unable to leave.

But his siblings were sleeping soundly in their rooms, and one of the agents was grunting, “Come,” so Ajax stepped out from the safety of the house’s light. He paused and turned, waving his hand in a hesitant farewell to his family, hoping it would not be the last before he had a chance to make good on his promises.

(He could not deny that there was a part of him, the part that had spent days after his return from the Abyss lying on his bed and craving the sensation of cool air rushing past his body as he slashed and spun, that thrummed with excitement.)

The Fatui were not allowed to keep any belongings from home. At the training camp, Ajax winced as the red scarf was forcibly yanked from his neck and he was handed a plain, nondescript uniform. Any lingering complaints, however, faded once the instructor—one of the Harbinger Pulcinella’s men, apparently—placed a sword in his hands and told him to fight the dummy.

When was the last time he had held an actual weapon in his hands? After the first of many, well, incidents in Morepesok, his parents had kept sharp metal objects well away from him. Ajax swung the sword in an experimental arc through the air, testing its weight in his hand.

After a moment of deliberation, he lifted his chin. “I don’t need it,” he declared, tossing the sword away—not even waiting to hear it hit the ground. Feeling the familiar pulse of Geo energy at his side, he held out his hands and called the power forth.

A sharp stone broadsword materialized in his grip, and he swung it towards the dummy, beheading it in one heavy hit.

For that, he got a forceful smack on the head, a week’s worth of cleanup duty in the mess hall, and dirty looks from all of the other recruits.

In his cold bunk at night, Ajax held the Vision close to his chest. It was the one item from home that they had not taken from him—how could they, when, in their eyes, it was what made him a fighter? His days of playing around with it and creating all those weapons he hid from his parents had paid off, after all. He had probably not been given a Vision just so he could attempt to make stone daggers, but nobody was stopping him now from using it to fight.

Wasn’t Morax also the God of War? Surely he would appreciate Ajax’s… exercises in creativity.

The number of training incidents he became involved in gradually dwindled, as the instructors seemed to realize his brashness manifested itself into unmatchable ferocity on the battlefield. Slowly, Ajax rose through the ranks, the image of a young, perfect vanguard capable of wreaking great destruction. The Vision followed him wherever he went, even as he stopped pulling stunts and used proper weapons to win battles.

He would never admit it, but in the Fatui camp… He was lonely. The other recruits, the staff, Pulcinella himself… None could substitute the warmth of family and the comfort of home. So perhaps that was why he clung to the Vision so tightly at night—not because it was making him a great warrior, which it was, but because it was his only link to home.

How ironic, then, that it was truly not from his home, but from a golden country, far far away, that he had never even seen with his own eyes. The furthest possible place from Morepesok.

But when Childe laid eyes on the grandeur of Zapolyarny Palace for the first time, many years later, he decided that some things could be more important than home.

Duty. Glory. Power.

His goddess was more beautiful than the snowy palace itself, her almost-white gaze sweeping over him as he entered the throne room behind Pulcinella. Before, he had wondered if looking into a Vision was like looking into the eye of a god; now, he understood that those eyes could trap you, immobilize you, bring you to your knees. For what felt like a lifetime (even though, as difficult as it was to imagine, it was not all he had ever known), he had fought in the name of the Tsaritsa, and here he stood in front of her, so mesmerized he almost forgot to bow.

He watched, however, as her eyes narrowed and fixated on something at his waist. Instantly, Childe knew what it was. His Geo Vision still glowed brightly, its warm gold a stark contrast from the snowy white and icy blue of Snezhnayan winters.

The Tsaritsa was the first god he had ever seen, but she was not the first god that had recognized him. Childe swallowed, suddenly uncertain, though he could not pinpoint why.

She held out her hand. “Come,” she beckoned, and Childe alone drew closer, stepping past the other people in the throne room to kneel before his Archon. “They call you Childe?”

The younger version of himself would probably be shaking like a leaf in the wind, but Childe looked up into her eyes steadily. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“From now on, you will have a new name: Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger.”

The new name and title were not the only gifts—not gifts, he reminded himself—Childe received that day. After the ceremony was over, a servant of the Tsaritsa handed him a box. Inside was a crackling purple orb.

A Delusion. Elemental power, without the blessing of a god.

His Vision pulsed at his side once more.

The Fatui sailed across Liyue’s seas for days, catching sight of distant cloud-covered peaks. But nothing could have prepared Childe for the view of Liyue Harbor.

Here, the mountain met the sea. The tree leaves, lush and golden, fluttered in a gentle breeze alongside great cranes and majestic herons. Grand buildings rose out of the slope, covered in vivid hues of red and green. He could already hear the merchants’ shouts and the streets’ music: the signs of a city brimming with life.

The arrival of a Fatui delegation was apparently an event that deserved a personal welcome from the city’s highest-ranking officials, for as the ship drew closer to the dock, Childe spotted two figures and a small number of Millelith soldiers.

The representatives of the Liyue Qixing, he deduced, here to make sure we stay in line.

He had read the reports. The shorter, purple-haired woman was likely their pragmatic Yuheng, noted for being quite defiant in the face of tradition—something about an incident at a previous Rite of Descension. Childe, however, was far more interested in the red-eyed woman watching the delegation coolly. Or, more specifically, in the tasseled Geo Vision that hung from Ningguang’s side.

How had she obtained the favor of Morax? Although considering she ruled over Liyue, perhaps the answer was fairly obvious.

“The esteemed Tianquan herself,” he greeted, nodding his head in a respectful incline. He would not bow. “And the Millelith! We certainly did not expect such a warm welcome from the Qixing.”

Ningguang’s expression did not budge. “It is certainly warmer in Liyue than in Snezhnaya. How long does your delegation plan to enjoy the weather, Tartaglia?” Childe heard the question for what it truly was: When are you leaving?

“Well, of course, we hope to stay for as long as is necessary to improve our diplomatic relations with Liyue and complete our work at the Northland Bank.” Childe let his gaze wander to the Millelith soldiers encircling them, lingering on the tips of their polearms. Hopefully, he would have a chance to test how they held up in a fight before his visit was over. “I heard that Liyue is quite beautiful in the autumn.”

The thought of leaving didn’t appeal to him right now, when he had so many new monsters to fight and new people to challenge. But some part of him wished he, too, knew when he would finally be on his way back home. Unfortunately, obtaining Morax’s Gnosis would be no easy, speedy task. Childe would have to exercise his patience.

When Childe turned back to Ningguang, he noticed that her eyes had stopped at his hip, where his Vision was attached to his belt. It must have hurt, he thought gleefully, to see that her oh-so-wise, oh-so-benevolent God had given a Fatui Harbinger the same kind of power.

If Ningguang truly felt any kind of insecurity over his Vision, he would never know. Her eyes were as impenetrable as before as they looked up to meet his head-on. “Indeed. The landscapes outside of Liyue Harbor are quite picturesque. You must explore them some time,” she said, her smile not spreading to the rest of her face. “Enjoy your visit, Fatui.”

Stay away from my city, Childe heard, but he smiled back, all polite and diplomatic, until the two members of the Qixing and their guards finally took their leave. Still, perhaps he would heed the unspoken get out to see something for himself.

He left his belongings at the Bank, assigning his subordinates to their tasks before making his way towards the city gate. After crossing a bridge in the direction of the mountains, he paused only to pat a golden dog on the head under the Millelith guards’ watchful gazes before continuing his uphill trek. There sure were a lot of mountains here; had Liyue Harbor’s location been chosen because it was the only piece of inhabitable land around?

The colors here, the colors he had seen briefly from the ship, were so different from Snezhnaya. Everywhere he looked, he saw verdant greens, burnt oranges, and soft yellows that seemed to stretch for miles. It had been afternoon when they had arrived in Liyue; now, the sun was close to setting in the sky, and it bathed everything in gold. Instinctively, Childe’s hand came to rest atop his Vision.

He found what he was looking for after passing two remote guesthouses. High above the ground, Morax’s stone-carved figure lounged on a throne, looking down at the strange cube in his hand. Childe had to crane his head upwards to see the statue clearly.

So this was the Geo Archon.

(He wondered why there were no statues of Morax in the harbor itself. Surely the people, who worshipped Rex Lapis so much in every other area, would want to sculpt his likeness and display it proudly everywhere?

Or maybe it was because this Morax statue was very shirtless, and even the Qixing didn’t want that on full display in their city.)

From the reports, he knew the basics. Morax was 6000 years old, was commonly called Rex Lapis by the locals, appeared every year to give the Qixing counsel, and protected his people diligently.

And the Vision he gave me is in my hand, named as if it is the eye of a god, he mused, but I doubt Morax watches over me. He had no way of knowing. Morax had gifted him a Vision, but when it came to the god, Childe could not see a thing.

At the back of his mind was the thought: What would it be like to fight a god?

At any other time, the same line of thinking would have sent the familiar exhilaration of battle rushing through his veins. After all, he would love to challenge someone with centuries of experience, test his limits and grow stronger, and find a new enemy to wield his weapons against.

His Foul Legacy transformation, from the Abyss. His Electro Delusion, from the Tsaritsa. And…

The Vision at his side pulsed again.

This damned thing, he thought bitterly, from the very god whose Gnosis I must rip from his chest.

This had to be a test. Perhaps the Tsaritsa was assessing his resolve and loyalty by forcing him to steal the Gnosis of the god who had sparked his journey into becoming a warrior.

Well, he would pass. He would prove to her that he could come into the land from where his powers originated and fulfill her orders, leaving havoc in his wake. He would fight Morax. He would hold the Gnosis in his hands. And then, he would board a ship and leave this golden land behind.

On Childe’s fourth day in Liyue, Ekaterina knocked on the door to his office. “Enter,” he called, looking up from the book on Liyue customs he had been leafing through boredly. “What is it?”

“There is an associate of Northland Bank we would like for you to meet with soon,” said Ekaterina, removing her mask from her face. “He is a valuable business partner of the Bank and may prove useful in your… mission, provided we act discreetly around him.”

He hummed in acknowledgment. “And who exactly is this mysterious associate?”

“Zhongli, a consultant from the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.”

A funeral parlor. Now that was interesting—though it could not be said that his usual company was any less strange. Childe set the book aside on his desk and tilted his head. “Background check?”

“No direct connections to the Qixing, though little information is available about his family,” reported Ekaterina. “He is a well-educated local who has worked at Wangsheng since the 77th Director first took the helm. His previous workplaces are unknown.”

He had expected a little more intel from her, given her excellent track record, so he frowned, murmuring to himself, “That’s all you know?” When he saw her lower her head and begin to apologize, he waved his hand. “Never mind. So, this Zhongli. Why might he prove useful?”

Ekaterina cleared her throat. “I believe that may be easier to understand if you meet him for yourself.”

“Very well,” Childe agreed. He could take this opportunity to conduct his own background check and ensure that the Bank was not placing its trust and resources in the wrong people. What did the customs book say about business meetings, again? “Please send a message to the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor inviting him to join me for a customary business dinner tonight at… What is the most expensive restaurant in Liyue Harbor?”

“That would be Liuli Pavilion or Xinyue Kiosk, sir.”

“Liuli Pavilion it is, then.” He paused. What else did he have to do? Ah, yes. “Once he responds, please make a reservation at Liuli Pavilion for two.”

Ekaterina clasped her hands together. “Reservations typically need to be made three months in advance. Are you alright with spending additional Mora-”

“Of course.”

She blinked. “Right away, then, sir.”

Liuli Pavilion was located in the center of Feiyun Slope, just diagonally across from Northland Bank and close to the Ministry of Civil Affairs. He arrived at the restaurant several minutes earlier than the planned time, wanting to take a look around first. On the exterior, it matched the architectural style of Liyue’s other buildings, with a green roof and a large, decorative yellow fan design. It would be easy to climb up to the second floor and eavesdrop, he mentally noted.

“Ancient Liyuen architects constructed roofs with wide eaves in order to shield the walls from wind and rain.” Childe spun around to see a tall man, dressed in an elegant brown overcoat that must have been stifling in the evening. Immediately, his attention was drawn to his brilliant gold eyes. A familiar gold, too, almost like the color of Liyue at sunset when the entire city glowed warmly. “The curved, upturned shapes of the tiles and eaves also improve drainage, protecting the internal structure from erosion by rainwater.”

Childe smiled. He had no idea what the man was saying. “You must be Zhongli-xiansheng,” he greeted, recalling the Liyuen honorific he had just learned about.

Zhongli returned his smile and dipped his head politely. “A pleasure to meet you, Tartaglia.” He gestured towards the waitress at the door. “Shall we make our way inside?”

“After you.”

It was when Zhongli turned around that Childe realized Ekaterina’s intel had left out something very important. Hanging from the back of his coat was a golden gemstone Childe was very familiar with. Another Geo Vision bearer. Just like when he first saw Ningguang, Childe was struck by another bolt of curiosity at how exactly the Geo Archon chose his favored ones—and just what this man had done to earn it. If all went well, he might eventually get a chance to ask; there was no hope of that with the Tianquan.

The waitress led them to their private room, and Childe spared a quick glance around the interior of the elegant establishment before turning his attention back to the far more fascinating consultant. “Thank you for accepting my invitation on such short notice.”

“Thank you for the generous invitation,” Zhongli replied, folding his hands in his lap. “Business dinners are customary in Liyue. It is good to see you have researched the local ways.”

Childe stopped himself from visibly brightening at the compliment and mentally sent a thank-you to the guidebook. “Think nothing of it. It is my job as a Harbinger to work together with our associates and maintain business relations, no? I have full confidence this will become a very prosperous partnership.”

Zhongli hummed in reply, before shifting his gaze. Childe followed his line of sight to the traditional painting on the wall, depicting a vertical landscape of lush mountains. “Liuli Pavilion. An interesting choice,” the consultant mused. Childe wisely decided not to tell him that he had just asked Ekaterina what the most expensive restaurant was. “What is it that you want to eat today?”

Childe waved his hand dismissively. “Feel free to order anything you like. You’re the local, so I’ll leave the decisions to you.”

He had nearly said he trusted Zhongli’s judgment, but even if that were true, trust was not something that could be given so easily.

“Very well,” said Zhongli, and the twinkle in his eyes made Childe a little nervous.

Zhongli proceeded to order a lot of food. He rattled off plenty of dishes on the menu to the waitress, to the point where Childe was wondering if two men, even if they were both rather tall, could finish so much. Still, he decided not to comment on it, even as he remembered that Northland Bank would be footing the bill.

“Did you know that Liyue has two primary styles of cuisine?” began Zhongli as they waited for the food. Childe hadn’t, obviously, and he perked up his head out of mild interest. “As a city that borders both mountain and sea, there are plenty of regional specialties unique to Liyue that have shaped the styles of cuisine. Liuli Pavilion specializes in Li cuisine, which utilizes many mountain ingredients, including the wild herbs and animals that flourish at higher altitudes. Perhaps as a result of the mountains’ cooler temperature, people began to infuse their cooking with richer, heartier flavors. Yue cuisine, on the other hand, primarily consists of seafood. The natural saltiness of the sea’s flavors may be why Yue cuisine now favors lighter, brighter flavors.”

Now, Childe understood what Ekaterina had meant by well-educated. This man was overflowing with knowledge, and he seemed to enjoy sharing it freely. Childe wasn’t entirely sure what rooftops and Li cuisine would have to do with their mission, but even from the few minutes he had known Zhongli, he knew there was more the consultant had yet to reveal of himself. “Which one do you prefer?”

“I can appreciate both styles of cuisine, especially the remarkable skill it takes to perfect them.” Zhongli’s brow furrowed. “I confess, however, I am not entirely fond of seafood.”

Childe mentally patted himself on the back for making the right choice, even if he had barely done anything. “Tell me more about the dishes you ordered,” he suggested. “What are the signature dishes of Li cuisine?”

Zhongli seemed more than happy to oblige him, easily slipping back into his long descriptions. Childe took the opportunity to lean back in his chair relaxedly and simply listen as each dish arrived. It helped that Zhongli had a very calming voice: smooth, but with enough cadences that his words came alive, as if Li cuisine truly was the most fascinating topic in the world. In just a few minutes, Childe had learned that Stone Harbor was another name for the city, that Cured Pork Dry Hotpot was traditionally fried over an open flame, and far more tidbits of information than he had expected to walk away from this conversation with.

As their dishes arrived, Zhongli picked up his chopsticks from the table and inclined his head towards Childe. “You may eat first.”

Childe was all too excited, with these admittedly mouthwatering plates in front of him, but a quick glance down made him pause. Oh, Tsaritsa. He eyed his own chopsticks warily. Could he ask for a fork and knife? Surely they would have them here.

But what would Zhongli think of him then, if he couldn’t even conquer two thin bamboo sticks? Sighing, Childe tried his best to pick up and hold the chopsticks.

“Your grip is wrong,” said Zhongli gently. Childe resisted the urge to throw them past Zhongli’s head, and instead observed him, trying to mimic his grip. “That is slightly better. I assume you have not had the chance to use chopsticks before?”

“There’s a first time for everything, xiansheng,” Childe said, his cheery smile hiding a whirlwind of internal rage. “I’ll manage.”

He did eventually manage to snag a piece of the cured pork and bring it up to his mouth. Zhongli, very politely, did not comment on his suffering and instead began discussing the cultural significance of chopsticks.

For the rest of the meal, Zhongli alternated between talking and eating, and Childe would simply listen and ask an occasional question. He almost forgot why he was there for the business dinner. The way that Zhongli talked about Liyue, this place that Childe knew so little about but was home for the consultant… It was fascinating, and in some way, it even made him more excited to explore the country before his mission was complete. Somehow, they made it through most of the food, and Childe barely noticed the meal was over until the waitress came back with the bill.

He stood up instantly. “I’ll pay.”

Zhongli, who had just finished talking about the craftsmanship behind the sandbearer floor lamp, frowned. “Are you sure? There’s really no need, Tartaglia.”

“I’m certain.” Childe fished his wallet out from his pocket. “I invited you here. My treat.” He paused, and added as an afterthought, “You are welcome to call me Childe.”

“Childe,” said Zhongli rather hesitantly, as if testing out the alias. “Thank you very much.”

They left the restaurant together. Childe, noticing Zhongli walked at a leisurely pace, slowed down his own rushed steps to amble alongside him. This part of Liyue was quieter in the evening, with warm illumination coming from shop windows and street lamps, but it was too soon to admit to himself that he quite liked the city at night.

He automatically scanned the perimeter for danger, though he saw nothing except a Millelith guard eyeing him warily. He was about to comment on this to Zhongli when his focus zeroed in on the guard. “Does… Does that guard’s polearm have an axe blade mounted on top of it?”

Over the years, Childe had developed a fascination with weapons, from his first stone constructs to the wide variety at the Fatui’s highest-ranked fighters’ disposal. He was determined to master every single one someday—even the damned bow, as clunky as it was to use with the Geo element. However, the axe-polearm clutched tightly by the Millelith soldier was something he had never seen before.

“Ah, yes. The Halberd,” said Zhongli. “It is a variation upon the common White Tassel used by Millelith soldiers. While the common polearm is reliably sturdy and favored for its speed, the addition of the axe blade makes its slashes far more powerful, albeit unwieldy. Personally, I prefer to use a regular polearm for better control over the weapon, though those in the Millelith skilled at using a Halberd have clearly mastered its offensive capabilities. All White Tassels are mass-produced at Blackcliff Forge, but because the Halberd requires more complex craftsmanship, the Millelith often needs to find experienced blacksmiths within the city to make the necessary adjustments...”

Childe tried not to stare. He really did. But before he even realized it, his feet had stopped moving and he had come to a halt. Zhongli trailed off, and for the first time that evening, the consultant seemed… Slightly flustered? “Ah. My apologies. I got carried away.”

Childe opened his mouth. And closed it. And opened it again. “So you’re an expert in Liyue’s architecture, cuisine, and weapons?” he somehow managed to ask. “And you fight with a polearm?”

He finally understood what Ekaterina had meant.

Zhongli looked lost. “I suppose I am knowledgeable in those areas…”

“Zhongli-xiansheng.” Childe stopped, trying to find the right words to say, and ended up shaking his head to himself. “It appears I was right. This will be a very prosperous partnership indeed.”

With far more enemies than friends in Liyue, Childe quickly found himself spending a lot of time with Zhongli. The consultant was a good source of information on Liyue’s history, which Childe gradually found himself fascinated by. He had never been much of a scholar, but conversing with Zhongli felt more like listening to Iron-Tongue Tian than a boring lecture.

“Zhongli-xiansheng,” he said one day after Zhongli had finished regaling him with another tale about the adepti’s great battles. Leaning forward across the table, he faced the consultant with wide eyes. “Surely someone with as much experience and knowledge as yourself must be a formidable opponent? How about you demonstrate some of those Liyuen fighting techniques for me?”

“I will not fight you, Childe.”

Childe leaned back in his seat. “You’re no fun.”

Zhongli had given him the same response the two previous times he had asked, but he would come around eventually. Childe was sure of it. For now, if he could not take leech off of Zhongli’s fighting skills, at least he could leech off of Zhongli’s brain.

However, when it came to freeloading, Childe felt it might have been the other way around. Soon after their first dinner, Zhongli had invited him to visit Chihu Rock for a brief tour and business lunch at Wanmin Restaurant. Yet when it came time to pay for their meal, Zhongli had reached for his wallet, only to pause.

“Don’t worry about it, xiansheng,” Childe had dismissed, easily handing over the money. “You can always treat me some other time!”

He hadn’t expected it to become a pattern. Yet in all the times they had met, he could count on one hand the number of times Zhongli had remembered to bring money. Such a knowledgeable consultant, and he couldn’t even manage his basic finances? Thankfully, Childe had more than enough funds in the Northland Bank to pay for their meals, but he was concerned how the consultant had survived for this long without starving or being chased out of Liyue.

“Rather than a fight,” Zhongli suddenly spoke up, prompting Childe to look over, “how about you come to visit the marketplace with me tomorrow?”

“Will you remember to bring your wallet?” Childe asked without thinking, and watched as Zhongli’s eyes widened. “I mean, I don’t mind-”

“No, you’re right.” Zhongli cleared his throat, averting his gaze—a look Childe had come to recognize as embarrassment. He was still surprised that such a refined man could become so easily flustered by everyday things like forgetting one’s money, but it was somewhat endearing, in a way, to see that he was not infallible. Even if Childe’s wallet hurt for it. “I do have a habit of forgetting to bring Mora on my person. For that, I apologize.”

Childe chuckled. “It’s really no problem. I’m not short on funds.” Not if you keep this up, said a voice at the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Ekaterina. He ignored it. “So, this marketplace. What can you find there?”

Seemingly casting aside about his guilt in an instant, Zhongli’s eyes lit up. “Many local artisans sell their finest wares there: pottery, jewelry, paintings, handicrafts, and plenty of Liyue’s almost-forgotten traditional arts. It is a great place to gain an appreciation of local culture.”

“Then I would love to join you tomorrow.”

The lively, colorful market was bustling with stalls and people when the two of them met up the next day. “There is a jewelry stand by the entrance that makes intricate accessories,” Zhongli said, leading Childe over. “The prices are a bit high, but the impressive craftsmanship justifies the amount of Mora necessary to acquire a piece.”

Of course, Zhongli would be the type of person to splurge on little trinkets he liked. Still, as they arrived at the table and Zhongli picked up a pair of earrings, Childe had to admit the shiny pieces on the table did look nice. One of the necklaces looked like something Tonia might like. Perhaps he could ask his subordinates to bring back some gifts along with his next batch of letters?

Something else caught his attention before he could linger on it, however. He reached over Zhongli’s arm to pick up a small, metallic pendant dangling from a simple chain. “What is this?” he asked, keeping his voice nonchalant as he inspected the familiar design.

Zhongli looked over. “Ah, that is a miniature replica of a Sigil of Permission. Naturally, it is not one of the originals created by Rex Lapis himself; those would be far greater in size, not reduced to charms on jewelry. However, many people believe that wearing these designs will grant them some level of protection and prosperity from the adepti, as far-fetched as that belief may be-”

“Zhongli-xiansheng!” the store owner greeted with a brilliant smile. “And…” Her smile abated as she turned to Childe, appraising him critically like he was a blemish on a smooth diamond. “Your Fatui companion...? Anyway, what catches your eye today? I do hope you remembered to bring Mora this time!”

So he wasn’t the only one who had noticed Zhongli’s inability to remember his wallet. The comment seemed to slide right off Zhongli, though, whose eyes crinkled as he smiled back. “Lovely to see you again, Jingying. The finish of these Noctilucous Jade earrings is very impressive considering the precise temperature conditions under which Noctilucous Jade can be worked with. The color of the jade is also lovely. How much are you selling these for?”

“200,000 Mora,” said Jingying. Childe’s jaw dropped—200,000 for two earrings with tiny pieces of inlaid Noctilucous Jade was a scam—but Zhongli only nodded.

“Such high-quality Noctilucous Jade is hard to come by these days. Very well. I will buy them.”

He’s not even going to bargain? Childe’s mind screamed as Zhongli’s hand reached into his pocket. But all the Liyue travel guides said you should never accept the first price they offer! The real value is so much lower—

“Ah.” Childe whipped his head around to see that Zhongli’s hand had stalled, and—oh no. He knew that look. “I appear,” Zhongli confessed, “to have forgotten my wallet again.”

Jingying shook her head. “Oh, Zhongli-xiansheng, you never change, do you? Still, I’m afraid we cannot allow—”

Childe slapped a bag of Mora onto the stall table. “I’ll pay.”

Both Zhongli and Jingying turned to him, wearing similar expressions of surprise. Barely a second had passed before Jingying’s face stretched into a wide, friendly smile. “Wonderful! What a kind, generous friend you have, Zhongli-xiansheng,” she simpered. “Actually, does anything else here catch your fancy, sir? We have plenty of other earrings and Noctilucous Jade products, or perhaps the Sigil of Permission pendant you were holding earlier. We even take custom orders…”

Childe groaned. “Just… One of those necklaces with a red gemstone, please.” The price tag read 15,000, which was acceptable.

“For a sweetheart back home? We have a similar style you can purchase to match—”

“No, no,” he said, gritting his teeth. He would not be tricked into spending more money here, as tempting as the idea was. “For family.”

“Of course, sir. I will package those up for you right away. Do let me know if you want to buy anything else!” Jingying’s eyes were practically shining as she turned away from them with the jewelry in hand.

Zhongli cleared his throat, catching Childe’s attention. “Thank you, Childe,” he said, meeting his gaze bashfully with those warm, golden eyes. “I always seem to be in your debt these days.”

At least he was self-aware, even if he was doing very little to improve upon it. “Think nothing of it,” Childe reassured him, realizing he meant the words. “What is a small favor between friends?”

Small favor, he thought to himself later, after they had wandered the entire marketplace and visited each stall at least twice. If only. His wallet felt a lot lighter than when he had brought it out today. Thank the Tsaritsa that there was plenty more where that came from.

But hearing the excitement in Zhongli’s voice as he lovingly described the significance of each item he was purchasing to Childe made him feel like the experience was somewhat worth it. Besides, Childe had plenty to gain, and little to lose. “So, xiansheng,” he began, as they walked out of the marketplace. “Earlier, you were telling me about Sigils of Permission…”

Eventually, Zhongli did treat Childe back, though it clearly could not compare to all the Mora Childe had spent on the older man already.

“Oh, what’s this?” Childe asked, glancing at the book Zhongli had placed on the table. “A gift?”

He had been joking, but then Zhongli nodded and pushed the book closer to him. “I saw this in Jifang Bookstore the other day and thought of you.”

“Paid for out of your own wallet this time! How thoughtful of you, xiansheng,” Childe joked, though he felt strangely happy at the thought that he had been on Zhongli’s mind. He peered at the book’s cover. “The Pavilion of Lonely Clouds?”

“It is a fairly accurate account of the history of Guyun Stone Forest, and the bygone gods that linger there. I thought you might particularly enjoy the story of the powerful God Osial’s defeat at Rex Lapis’s hands. After all,” Zhongli chuckled, “you must be very interested in Liyue’s history if you meet with me so often.”

Childe refused to think too hard about the implications of those words; he was not ready for that kind of conversation with himself. Ignoring the way his stupid heart thudded in his chest, he nodded. “Right. Yes. Liyue’s history.” He reached out and took the book from Zhongli, turning it around in his hands. “But why would I read this if I could simply listen to your tales?”

“The joy in studying history comes from perusing different sources to understand their nuanced interpretations of a complex truth,” said Zhongli with a small frown, and Childe laughed.

“Ah, you know I’m only kidding! Thank you for this gift. I will be sure to find time to read it.”

He was a busy man, these days, as the Fatui searched the lands for resources that would aid in their grand plan. But perhaps this book would prove to be useful if it was about Rex Lapis himself. What a great decision it was to befriend Zhongli for information, Childe thought, mentally patting himself on the back for his intelligent long-term decision-making.

Zhongli’s eyes softened. “Of course. I forgot you are very busy.” He cleared his throat. “Do you have plans for this afternoon?”

Only a meeting with Andrei that he could definitely reschedule. “No,” Childe lied, briefly wondering whether it was time to take a step back and reflect on his priorities. “Why?”

“Would you care to join me on a walk outside of the city?”

And so, after dropping off Childe’s book at the Northland Bank and letting Andrei know he would be out of town, the two of them set off. While they had walked along Feiyun Slope and Chihu Rock many times, this was the first time Zhongli was acting as his tour guide outside of the harbor. Along the way, Zhongli regaled him with facts about the plants, animals, and sights they encountered.

“Historians say that this rock is where the Prime Adeptus fought a mighty battle against corrupted Geovishaps that lasted for three days and three nights.”

“Wow. What about that rock over there?”

“That is where he took a nap afterward.”

“What, really? Wait. I know that smile. Zhongli-xiansheng! How could you fool a poor, clueless diplomat like me?”

Childe liked seeing Liyue through Zhongli’s eyes. While he had always admired the country’s scenery, the constant stream of stories that Zhongli supplied only brought the landscape to life. So when they both arrived back at the harbor and Zhongli asked if he would like to visit other places with him sometime, he agreed immediately.

“Too bad we didn’t run into any monsters,” he joked, nudging Zhongli with his elbow. “I wanted to see you in action! Maybe next time, if we go somewhere really remote, you’ll indulge me in a fight?”

“Not a chance.”

It was on one of these walks, many weeks later, that they stopped at the foot of a mountain northeast of Liyue Harbor. The walk from the Feiyun Slope was long, but the view was worth it as Childe stood there and took it all in.

“Wow,” he breathed, settling down on the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zhongli do the same.

To his left was the wide, brilliant blue expanse of water that connected Liyue to other nations—including his own. In the distance, the jagged peaks of Guyun Stone Forest vanished behind misty clouds. To his right was a very different sea—one of green and red rooftops and golden sandbearer trees. And all around them, the mountains stood tall.

Just as beautiful as the first day he had arrived in the harbor.

“According to many artists’ interpretations, this was where the Lord of Geo first stood with his people as he came across the land that would one day become Liyue Harbor,” came Zhongli’s voice from his side. “Did you know the annual Rite of Descension is coming up?”

Of course, Childe knew; he had been waiting for this moment. Now, their plans were finalized, and the time to strike was nigh. All that was left to do was to bide his time a little longer. “I have heard of it. Tell me more?”

He listened only passively as Zhongli began talking about the rite, more focused on the view of the harbor. From here, the people would be far too small to see, but he imagined the Millelith guarding the gate, the waitress standing outside Liuli Pavilion, the vendors shouting to buyers in the marketplace. All these people, under the protection of their god who Childe still knew nothing about.

“Tell me about Morax,” he said before he could stop himself.

Zhongli paused. “What do you wish to know about Rex Lapis?”

“Anything.”

So Zhongli told him a folktale, of a mortal who had told the Geo Archon that no life could be found in barren stone. In response, the god had called upon the powers of the earth. From the cracks in the ground, brilliant flowers of the purest gold burst forth, so beautiful and delicate that they seemed lifelike.

“Many scholars see the tale as a metaphor for the founding of Liyue Harbor,” Zhongli finished, his own eyes trained on the distant city. “The prosperous harbor that grew from the lifeless mountains and braved the raging Sea of Clouds—that was the brilliant flower ultimately created by the Lord of Geo.”

“Sounds like an interesting guy,” Childe commented. “Quite stubborn, too. He did all of that just to prove a point?”

“Would you not do the same?”

“Well, I’m not the Lord of Geo. I don’t think I need to consider that possibility.”

For a moment, Zhongli didn’t respond, his gaze flickering downwards. Childe followed Zhongli’s line of sight to see his own Vision, as bright as ever. “You were blessed with Geo powers. Surely you, of all people, would understand that stone is not lifeless, but full of warmth.”

Memories came back to him—memories of clutching his god-given Vision to his chest in a cold Fatui training camp and dreaming of home.

Ajax exhaled shakily.

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess so.”

Childe never expected Rex Lapis’s dead body to fall from the sky, yet there he was, standing at Yujing Terrace as all his plans came crashing down with the Exuvia.

But no. Surely— there was still a chance— He could still—

He turned away from the scene of the disaster, where the Millelith had already begun to gather, and followed that strange Traveler.

What kind of Harbinger would he be if he had not prepared for all of the possible paths, even one as unprecedented as this? Still, many hours later, as Childe bid the Traveler farewell and made his own way back to the Bank, the shock finally hit him.

Rex Lapis was dead.

(When had he started thinking of Morax as Rex Lapis?)

How strange it was that the Vision at his belt still pulsed with its golden glow, even when the god that had granted it was now in Celestia. He knew that Visions did not fade when the god who had gifted them died, for their power lingered behind, but it unsettled him that a remnant of this country’s beloved god was on his person when he had never even seen him except in his final moments. And that presence was still there, as it had always been.

He could not afford to be distracted now. The Tsaritsa expected him to complete his mission, and he would do so, even if it meant reaching into the heart of the Exuvia with his own bare hands. Whether or not the Geo Archon had died was irrelevant, so long as Childe retrieved his Gnosis.

But to Childe, a wielder of the Geo element, whose first weapons had been his blades of rock and stone…

Forgive me for this, Tsaritsa, he thought later, staring up at that statue of Rex Lapis just outside the harbor. There was still only one Archon he would ever answer to, but Childe stepped forward and laid the Glaze Lily bouquet at the base of the statue. A small offering of gratitude.

He wasn’t sure how the citizens of Liyue mourned, but hopefully, this would ease some of the pain in his chest that felt uncomfortably close to grief. As he looked up, he saw a golden ginkgo leaf slowly falling through the air. His fingers reached for it.

“Childe.”

Childe whirled around, hand already on his bow, before he recognized the sound of that voice. The statue had somehow distracted him from noticing Zhongli approaching him. “Xiansheng,” he greeted quietly. “Eventful day, huh?”

Zhongli nodded, his expression more unreadable than ever. Childe knew that Zhongli claimed he wasn’t very religious, but considering the respect with which Zhongli told him stories of the Geo Archon… Surely Zhongli appreciated all that the god had done for Liyue.

“How are you feeling?” Childe ventured. “I… I didn’t see you at the Rite of Descension.”

He had initially hoped to catch Zhongli at the event, back when he had expected another year of typical business advice. Now, he was almost grateful that the consultant had not gone, so he could not have seen Childe’s brief expression of terror as an immortal god crashed to his death.

“Director Hu had some additional work for me,” said Zhongli. “When she came back, she told me what happened.”

Childe wondered if even the eccentric 77th Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor would be somber in the face of the Geo Archon’s death. Somehow, he doubted it.

Zhongli sighed. “As for how I am feeling… Well. This marks the end of an era, and I suppose I am curious to see how Liyue will change. But putting my personal feelings aside, there is now plenty of preparation to be done for the Rite of Parting. It will be a busy few days for the parlor.”

The Rite of Parting. Childe’s eyes widened. Of course—Zhongli was responsible for organizing the Rite of Parting. Zhongli would have access to the Exuvia.

“Not too busy, I hope,” he said lightly. “There’s someone I’d like to introduce you to...”

It was a day filled with defeats.

First, reaching into the Exuvia only to find himself empty-handed, with nothing but the haunting knowledge that Rex Lapis was alive after all.

Second, calling upon his Foul Legacy transformation after so long only to be beaten into the ground by the Traveler he had come to think of as an amusing companion.

Third, watching as the Jade Chamber plummeted into the ocean, taking down Osial with it.

All of his hard work, crumbling to pieces, and he still had no Gnosis to show for it.

It would be an understatement to say Childe was not in a good mood as he trudged up to Northland Bank and flung open the doors, but his expression only darkened even more as he saw a familiar white-haired silhouette.

“Signora?” he growled, stalking forward and hoping that his wounds from the Golden House fight were not visible. Where were all of his subordinates? “What are you doing here?”

But rather than the insult or gloat he had expected, Signora only laughed. “Oh, Childe,” she said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “I’m not here for you.”

“What—“

Behind Childe, someone cleared their throat. Childe knew that sound.

“Zhongli?” he demanded, spinning around. “What are you doing here, I thought they evacuated the city, the Fatui—“

“He’s not here for you, either,” said Signora as she pushed past him, a frigid gust of air following in her wake. “Isn’t that right, Morax?”

Morax? Childe’s head spun.

No. No, he couldn’t dwell on this for too long. He had misheard, or this was another one of Signora’s typical mind games, or… “What is going on? Is this some kind of sick joke?”

Signora shot him an amused look over her shoulder. “All this time, and you still haven’t figured it out?”

Childe turned to Zhongli, about to call out his name, when he stopped and realized the consultant was refusing to meet his gaze. And as he stared at those downcast golden eyes, he finally registered why that color had always seemed so warm and familiar.

The same color as Cor Lapis, that precious rock made of condensed pure Geo. The same color as the glowing scales on the Exuvia’s back. The same color as Childe’s own Geo Vision.

Oh.

All the signs—Liyue’s very own Archon—had been right in front of him all along. Like a fool, he hadn’t recognized a single one.

“You’re Rex Lapis,” he breathed, regretting his words as soon as they materialized in the air. There was no denying it now, no taking it back and pretending none of this had happened, that Zhongli was still merely a kind, strangely knowledgeable consultant with a habit of forgetting his wallet. Someone who, against all odds, Childe had come to greatly enjoy the company of.

No. Zhongli was the God of Contracts, Commerce, History, Wealth, Stove, and all those other ridiculous titles Childe had never bothered to memorize. None of that seemed to matter now when all he needed to know was that he had bought Rex Lapis dinner. Had gone on walks with Rex Lapis. Had challenged Rex Lapis to a fight.

“But why?” he demanded, no longer caring if he sounded like a petulant child. “Why keep up this charade for so long? Why fake your own death? Why not stop me if… If you knew, this whole time?”

Zhongli sighed. At least he had the decency to look directly at Childe this time, though the golden color of his eyes did little to soothe Childe’s wounded ego right now. “There was a contract. My Gnosis was always promised to the Tsaritsa; your involvement in this was only one part of a larger plan.”

“So don’t feel too bad that you got played like a Dihua flute,” cooed Signora. Childe pointedly ignored her.

“I wanted to test if the adepti and Qixing could come together to protect Liyue. For that, something had to threaten Liyue’s safety. The Tsaritsa agreed to send her youngest Harbinger to steal my Gnosis, so he could wreak havoc across the land and challenge Liyue’s ability to survive without its Archon.” Zhongli’s tone was jarringly calm for someone describing a betrayal he had planned for months, and it made Childe grit his teeth. He did not like to be on the receiving end of this. “I must say, Childe, you played your part perfectly. I was impressed.”

Ah, yes, thank you; I’ve always wanted to be the perfect pawn to another Archon’s schemes, Childe was tempted to snap. “And Signora was in on it this whole time too,” he said instead, pointing an accusing finger at her. “What was this? The insurance, in case I failed?”

“We may be used to working alone, but if the Tsaritsa wishes for cooperation between Harbingers, then it must be done.”

He scoffed. “You call this ‘cooperation between Harbingers?’”

It was at that moment that he noticed the Traveler slipping not-so-discreetly through the Bank’s front doors. At least there was one more person who was a victim of Zhongli’s lies... even if Childe had also deceived the Traveler.

The wound along his side throbbed, a painful reminder of the defeat he had suffered at the Traveler’s hands earlier that day. He would have to get that bandaged properly later. Using his Foul Legacy always took too much out of him, and he knew the healers would probably recommend weeks of rest so he could return to his usual condition, but he was never one for listening to their advice.

Childe was outraged to find that the Traveler didn’t seem too surprised by Zhongli’s revelation, instead more focused on the fact that he handed over his Gnosis willingly. Eventually, Signora seemed to tire of this conversation, beckoning Childe with her hand. He refused to follow her. After she had sauntered off, he finally took his own leave, though he did not go far. He had too many words left to say to do that.

Instead, he stayed by the stairwell, waiting for the sound of the Traveler’s departing footsteps to finally fade before coming back down.

Zhongli’s back faced him, but Childe still heard his intake of breath. “Childe.”

(Childe tried not to think too hard about the fact that Zhongli could recognize the sound of his footsteps. And that the reverse was probably true.)

The Vision on Zhongli’s back was still there. It hung almost mockingly from his jacket, glowing in a way that Childe now realized was likely artificial, or purely that of a regular shiny stone. He was almost grateful when Zhongli turned around, so he wouldn’t have to keep looking at it, only to instead have to face Zhongli directly.

Those golden eyes would haunt him until the end of his very short life.

Childe knew he was not innocent. He had been using Zhongli this whole time, just as Zhongli had ended up using him. That part hurt, but he would move on eventually, for their goals were ultimately greater than the two of them.

What he still struggled to process was the fact that Zhongli and the god that had given him his Vision were one and the same. “I’m not here for an apology or an explanation.”

Zhongli frowned. “Then what is it that you want?”

“I want what I’ve always wanted. That hasn’t changed.” An uncontrollable laugh bubbled out of Childe’s throat, and he wondered if it sounded as brittle to Zhongli as it did to him. Oh, how things had changed so quickly in only a matter of days. Suddenly, he wished he was walking through the marketplace or sitting in Wanmin Restaurant—anywhere but here.

Instead, he said, “Fight me.”

A long moment of quiet ensued, with the Bank’s usual music replaced by a heavy silence. “Fight you,” Zhongli repeated incredulously. “You are wounded. You just discovered I am one of the original Seven. Yet you still wish for me to fight you.”

Childe blinked. “Is that a yes? One fight to mark the end of our friendship, then I’ll be on my way to Snezhnaya and you’ll never have to see me again.”

The prospect of returning home used to bring images of swirling snow and his siblings’ beaming faces to mind. Now, that thought was replaced by him boarding a boat, and Zhongli waiting by the shore as he grew smaller and smaller.

Actually, he thought bitterly, Zhongli would probably drag me to Stone Gate himself so I could attempt to destroy another nation instead. Or send one of his adepti. Rex Lapis doesn’t make too many public appearances.

“No,” Zhongli hissed. “Have you seen your injuries? You’ll only hurt yourself further.”

“Indulge my request just this once, xiansheng. You owe me that much,” said Childe, knowing that it was a lie. There had never been any sort of contract between them that wasn’t strictly business-related. Despite the gifts, and the meals, and the shared memories, the ex-Archon didn’t owe him anything.

Perhaps that was what hurt the most.

“I won’t even use my Delusion or transformation,” he added before he could carefully consider what he was saying. “Just you, me, and the great powers of Geo. Don’t you want to see what I can do with this Vision?”

He wasn’t sure if the last part was an effective goad. But Zhongli’s eyes narrowed, something in them changing, and Childe wondered if it had worked.

Despite Zhongli’s humility and elegance, he was still a powerful warrior god. And powerful people, from Childe’s experience, liked to see the results of their power.

“You truly dare to fight an ex-god using his own element?” Zhongli finally asked.

“I would like nothing more.”

Another long silence was ultimately interrupted by Zhongli sighing. Loudly. Like this was the most tired he had ever been in his six thousand years of existence.

“Very well.” Before Childe could even step closer, Zhongli held up his hand, stopping him in his tracks. “But first… Take a walk with me.”

A beat. “Are you serious?”

Zhongli fixed him with a glare that left little room for argument. “You have my word. One walk, and then we fight.”

And knowing that Zhongli, even if he was a liar and a schemer, would never break a contract, Childe obliged.

It was a long walk. Childe briefly wondered if Zhongli’s strategy was to tire him out completely before their fight, though surely Zhongli wouldn’t underestimate his endurance. Still, he could not figure out where Zhongli was taking him until they stopped. A familiar sight greeted him.

It was the same location where the view had taken his breath away before the Rite of Descension, when Zhongli had told him the folktale about Rex Lapis and his brilliant flowers of pure gold.

Now, he supposed, pulling his bowstring back with sore arms, it would be the location of their battle.

Zhongli easily sidestepped the miniature Geo projectile Childe shot at him. He raised his arms, and a large, glowing barrier manifested around him. “Going into defensive mode so soon?” Childe taunted, casting aside his bow in favor of forming two stone blades with his hands.

Geo attacks were most effective at shattering Geo shields; Childe would break through that barrier whether Zhongli wanted him to or not. He raised his weapons and charged.

Stone clashed loudly against stone, each of Childe’s hits bouncing harshly off of the shield Zhongli was maintaining. “Come on, xiansheng,” he panted. “Is this really how you fight?”

In an instant, the shield shattered into golden fragments. Zhongli summoned a magnificent polearm in his hand and parried Childe’s next hit by kicking his polearm. As the weapon returned to his hand, he used one smooth swing to knock Childe to the ground and point the sharp tip at his throat.

Zhongli’s eyes were glowing. “Better now?” he rumbled, deeper than Childe had ever heard before.

Grinning in response, Childe jabbed upwards. “So much better.”

Fighting a god in earnest was everything Childe had dreamed of, and more. Six-thousand years of experience helped the Warrior God strike swiftly yet heavily, each powerful blow staggering Childe backward before he returned with equal enthusiasm.

When Zhongli drew the first blood, his polearm catching on the exposed skin just above Childe’s Vision, he faltered for only a second before he had to block Childe’s next strike. It left a cut across his left cheek, a harsh red line upon an otherwise elegant visage.

(Some part of him was glad to see that Zhongli bled red. As they continued striking at each other, he could no longer tell which bloodstains were from him, and which were from the ex-god.)

But even as Childe fought to meet Zhongli, blow for blow, he knew they were not evenly matched. Here he was, with reopened wounds, fighting a man who had spent six thousand years mastering the power he had granted a small portion of to Childe. As Childe stumbled, his ankle nearly giving out, Zhongli pressed forward with his spear.

“This isn’t over,” Childe hissed through the pain, even as Zhongli trapped him against the smooth stone at the base of the mountain.

“Are you sure?” came the calm reply. Childe was greatly pleased to see that the cut on Zhongli’s cheek had a few new companions, even if some strange immortal powers erased them by the next day. At this level of proximity, he could reach out and trace them with his finger if he wanted to.

Zhongli’s hand faltered. “Yield, Childe,” he said softly. “You’ve fought enough.”

It was a golden opportunity, and Tartaglia seized it. In a flash of lightning, he teleported past Zhongli, ignoring the pain that lanced up his arms as his weapons of stone crackled with purple Electro energy. In his hand, they morphed, becoming a polearm that almost mirrored his opponent’s.

Zhongli may have given that Vision to him, but Tartaglia had more tricks up his sleeve. “It’s never enough,” he laughed harshly, giving the polearm an experimental twirl. “Well then, Rex Lapis? Don’t tell me you’re backing down now.”

Zhongli’s grip on his polearm had tightened so much that Tartaglia honestly thought the weapon might snap in half.

“You said,” he practically growled, “you would only use your Vision.”

Tartaglia dashed forward. “I didn’t make any promises.”

The Electro energy coursing falsely through his veins filled him with renewed energy for a moment, and his movements only became faster as he dodged blow after blow. However, he knew he stood no chance if he kept running from Zhongli. He needed more.

There was one power that Zhongli could not control. One power that no god had given him. Now that he had broken the informal agreement between them, what was the harm in doing so again?

Closing his eyes, Tartaglia called upon the Abyssal energy that lingered in the deepest, darkest parts of himself. As he was lifted into the air, he opened them and looked down to see that Zhongli stood frozen in place.

“Childe.” Zhongli had never sounded angrier, his voice shaking with all the might of a heavy earthquake. As the name reverberated in the open air, the very ground seemed to tremble. “You will hurt yourself.”

“Don’t worry about me,” said Tartaglia, barely hearing himself through the distortion of his voice. He landed on the floor, discovering that it was not merely a visual illusion—the ground was shaking violently. “Worry about yourself.”

But instead of lifting his weapon again, Zhongli only crossed his arms. “Forgive me for this.”

The sky darkened. Zhongli’s eyes glowed. A shadow appeared over their heads, and Tartaglia could only stare powerlessly as a meteor came crashing down—

Then, he couldn’t see anything at all.

When Childe regained his senses a few moments later, he was himself again, and his head hurt like the entire Millelith had taken turns stomping on it. Or like an ex-god had flattened him into the ground like a traditional Liyuen street pancake.

“A meteor?” he managed to croak. The words sent him into a coughing fit, and when he pulled his hand away from his mouth, dark red patches covered his glove. “Really?”

Zhongli was kneeling on the floor beside him. “You said you would only use your Vision. I did what had to be done.” He paused. “That transformation…”

“A gift from the Abyss.”

“It hurts you,” Zhongli hissed. “And it will destroy you if you use it so carelessly.”

Childe forced a smirk, fighting back a wince at the throbbing pain in his side. “Not if you destroy me first.”

He closed his eyes, letting his head fall to the cracked ground. As much as he hated it, Zhongli was right, as he typically was. Calling upon his Foul Legacy twice in one day was something he had never done before, and now, every bone in his body was punishing him for it. That power did not belong to this land; he had endured so much to make it belong to him.

Barely aware of his surroundings, it took him a moment to register that there was a gentle touch on his forehead. A gloved hand slowly brushed away the hair sticking to his skin. “Let me help you,” he heard Zhongli murmur.

His eyes flew open.

“No,” he protested, hissing as another jolt of pain shot up his neck.

“Childe.” Zhongli sounded strained. “Unless you want to bleed to death, I suggest you let me patch you up.”

His first instinct was to refuse again. But who else could he turn to? The Traveler would attempt to stab him, and he couldn’t risk his subordinates seeing him in this vulnerable state. He had no one to go to.

There was no way he would die on a random hill in Liyue before he had the chance to see his family again.

“Fine.”

Zhongli’s eyes were filled with something akin to pity. Childe closed his own so he wouldn’t have to look into them. After a few moments, a cool cloth wiped across his forehead. Where had Zhongli even acquired… Actually, seeing as he was an ex-god, Childe wasn’t surprised anymore. In fact, he was a little tired of surprises, at the moment.

He flinched when he felt Zhongli’s hand tug at his collar before the cloth swept over a particularly painful spot on his collarbone. Every inch still hurt, but Zhongli steadily wiped away what he assumed was blood and dirt from the various wounds on his body, even lifting parts of his shirt to dab at the split skin beneath. He would be walking away from this fight with many new scars.

Zhongli treated every injury with a level of care Childe had not felt in so long, even wrapping a tight bandage around Childe’s left arm. Fatui medics were good at their job, but their motions were harsh and abrasive, focused on efficiency rather than mercy. Zhongli paused each time Childe let out a pained noise, but resumed steadily, applying less pressure than before.

Eventually, Zhongli’s fingertips reached his hip, where they paused just above his Vision.

Maybe it was the pain making him loose-lipped. Or maybe it was Zhongli’s gentle, focused ministrations that caused Childe to open his mouth and ask, “What did you want from me?”

Zhongli’s hand stilled, and Childe opened his eyes to see him looking puzzled. “Pardon?”

“You’re the God of Contracts. To you, everything is a trade. Everything comes at a price.” Childe paused to clutch his ribs, waiting until the pain had subsided before continuing. “What could you possibly have gained from giving power to a weak Snezhnayan boy with dreams of glory and bloodshed?”

The ex-Archon paused in thought for a long moment, his eyes trained on the Vision.

“You misunderstand,” he said eventually. “Visions… They are bestowed upon mortals who have been recognized by a god at a particular moment. Usually, this is when the mortal exemplifies a certain value that the Archon is impressed by. At the time, I would have known very little about you, the person you had been, or the person you would come to be.”

“Then what do you remember about that moment?” What compelled you to give me a Vision?

Zhongli closed his eyes as if trying to remember. Then, he reached out and brushed Childe’s Vision absent-mindedly with his hand. Childe watched, expecting it to somehow react to the touch, but nothing happened.

“That day,” said Zhongli, “you fulfilled a promise.” He opened his eyes; the soft, warm look in them was something that Childe rarely saw now, save for in his dreams of home. “You had promised yourself you would get back to your family and see your siblings again. It was a promise as solid as stone, and you held yourself to it.”

A chill ran through him. He had never forgotten that promise, but he hadn’t expected Zhongli to have heard it.

“And you made another one,” Zhongli continued. “To grow stronger, right?”

“So you decided to reward a kid’s desire to fight and conquer the whole world?” Childe asked incredulously.

Zhongli’s hand returned to Childe’s collarbone. It was bleeding again, Childe registered distantly. “What I sensed was your incredible strength and resolve—your dedication to fulfilling those promises. If those are not deserving of recognition by the God of Contracts, then what is?”

The Vision had never been part of a contract, after all. Contrary to what he had imagined over the years, it had been given freely. A true gift from the man right in front of him.

Somehow, the words soothed Childe, even as he lay covered in his own blood.

“If you knew that I would become this Harbinger, this instrument of war for the Tsaritsa, this… fool who would eventually help you fulfill your grand plan…” Childe hesitated. “Would you still have done it?”

It was on a whim. He didn’t know what answer he expected from Zhongli. He didn’t know what answer he hoped to hear. He didn’t even know why he had asked, except that he felt like if he didn’t, he would never be able to rest.

“After six thousand years, Childe, I have learned that I cannot linger on every what-if that will never come to fruition, for there are far too many.”

Zhongli grew quieter, so quiet that Childe had to prop himself up to hear his words clearly. “But if giving you that Vision is what led you here, to our meeting… Then forgive my selfishness, but I cannot say I regret it at all.”

Childe didn’t know how to respond to that.

Did he regret the Vision that had protected him since that fateful day? If he had the chance, would he choose a life without it?

“My loyalty has always been to the Tsaritsa,” he said, hating that the tremors in his voice made him sound uncertain. “But all my life, believing that I was indebted to a different Archon… I fought her battles in her name, but I never felt I could fulfill my duty to the fullest. She must have sensed that. Sending me here was another test of hers.”

It was a terrible idea to be saying these things to the man who had just knocked him out, though if Zhongli wanted to harm him, he would’ve left him there to die. He wasn’t sure he had ever been honest with someone about why his Vision bothered him so much. Yet here he was now, at his most vulnerable in front of Rex Lapis himself, trusting him with the insecurities he had guarded closely for so long.

Zhongli’s hand moved to rest on top of Childe’s wrist, their skin separated by two separate layers of bloody gloves. “Your devotion to your goddess is a part of you. I would never take that away from you.” (You have since the moment we met, Childe thought bitterly, knowing his heart was now ensnared by two gods.) “But remember that it is not all of you.”

The Geo Vision pulsed at his side.

“You are so much more than that,” Zhongli continued, lacing his fingers through Childe’s. He’s holding my hand, Childe thought, half-delirious. How nice. “So much more than what any god could give you.”

They stayed like that for a while, Zhongli holding Childe’s hand, Childe too embarrassed to let go. He was sure he still had open cuts and scrapes all over his body, and that he would need to sleep for two whole days to dull the pounding in his head, but he forced himself to focus on the warmth of Zhongli’s eyes.

No matter how much he pretended otherwise, he had always liked that color. And if nothing else, it suited Zhongli.

“Wait.” Childe sat up so quickly that his entire body screamed at him in protest. Gingerly, he laid back down, but his head spun. “If you’re the God of Commerce, the literal creator of Mora… why the fuck did I have to pay for all of your meals?”

Zhongli had the decency to look embarrassed. “I am not used to saving Mora because I can create it so easily, but I knew I had to prepare for a human lifestyle in which that wouldn’t be possible. So, I was rehearsing.”

“And you decided to drain my wallet.” Childe’s grip tightened.

“...I truly am grateful for your financial support. You were exceedingly generous.”

Childe groaned. “And the gift you gave me… It was all part of the plan to make me awaken Osial, huh? Not even a real gift? You are one broke, crafty god.”

“I did think you would genuinely enjoy the book, regardless of your nefarious intentions,” Zhongli said defensively. “However, that reminds me…”

Childe watched as Zhongli fished something out from his pocket. Against the soft black fabric of his gloves sat a smooth piece of golden Cor Lapis, carved in an intricately beautiful shape.

A flower, Childe realized.

“I wanted to give this to you before everything went down,” said Zhongli. “However, I could not find the right time. This doesn’t feel like the right time, either, but I hope you accept this gift.”

For a moment, Childe could not remember how to breathe. When air filled his lungs again, he laughed nervously. “Wow, that must’ve cost you quite the price at the market! Especially because you apparently don’t know how to haggle—“

“I made it myself.”

Oh. Oh.

Zhongli deposited the flower in his open palm, and he ran a finger over its smooth surfaces. A marvel hand-crafted by a god, just for him.

“Please do not view this gift as a burden,” murmured Zhongli.

(All those years ago, Rex Lapis was right, Childe thought. Zhongli was right, too. I would do the same.)

“What is it, then? A contract?”

The former Geo Archon’s eyes twinkled.

“A promise.”