"Morax."
"You are late."
Rotten cold rain poured onto ground like scorched earth; fiery rifts snaked through the gullies. Bosacius stood at the center of the desolate battlefield, dark-red blood dripping from his fingertips.
He leaned against a shattered boulder, head lowered, eyes downcast—as if waiting.
Bosacius was waiting.
Chill drizzle struck him; silver droplets rebounded, linking into threads that ringed his body with a faint watery halo.
Beside him, unconscious, lay three Yaksha—Indarias, Menogias, Bonanus.
Though Bosacius had reached the realm of The Seven, to subdue three Yaksha without a sound was no easy task.
Their eyes were shut, brows tightly knit, faces restless, as if trapped in a nightmare—and indeed it was a nightmare: their big brother had betrayed them.
The surroundings were terrifyingly silent; only the anguished rain remained.
Huff—huff…
White breath billowed. His chest heaved heavier and heavier; his pupils darkened from gold toward violet-red, rain coursing down his shoulders.
[Remaining life: Three days]
Bosacius still drooped his head, thinking. The hole in his shoulder, torn wider by the fight, gaped terribly. Blood pattered from his fingertips to the ground.
Beneath the thin robe, almost translucent skin carried near-black blood. Baleful karma ran his veins, invaded viscera, at last pooling in the heart—once crystalline, now corrupted.
Morax, Bosacius whispered with downcast eyes.
Why have you not come?
After devouring all Yaksha karma, the foul aura covered heaven and earth; even a thousand li away it was clear. In theory, the instant Bosacius set foot on Liyue soil, Morax should have sensed him.
Yet half an hour had passed—still no Rex Lapis.
The contract was set; Rex Lapis would keep it—unless something else had happened.
Bosacius had a premonition: things were slipping out of control.
He realized his mistake: blind faith in Rex Lapis. Even Rex might meet mishap.
He felt karma slowly occupying his body—really another self. The system said three days' life, but that only meant how long consciousness would last; the body might be seized within a day.
He could feel himself changing—more primal, higher, chaotic, and more… terrifying.
Bosacius looked at the unconscious Yaksha, and a sudden impulse rose: to tear their throats.
Huff… huff…
He breathed fog.
Within this half-hour he had considered suicide many times. The closest: fingers pierced his chest, touched his heart—one instant more and he could have crushed it. At that instant karma—his other self—stopped him.
At death's brink, the instinct to live is overwhelming; karma felt the same. In that moment Bosacius lost. He drew out his arm; the gaping hole slowly knit, heart beat anew, pumping vigorous life. Bosacius lived again.
He could not kill himself.
Though still controlling the body, he could not end it; as time passed it would worsen. Soon he might not even manage to wait—forced to pierce and heal the heart again and again.
Thoughts grew ever more violent—slaughter instinct awakening uncontrolled.
He wished to devour… every living being.
Six hundred years—never had Bosacius felt so helpless, so lost. Silver rain veiled the world; alone he stood on the bleak earth, no one coming to save him. Head bowed, he murmured: Come kill me.
He was pleading—for someone to kill him.
The contract had been agreed—why… break it?
"B-Brother…?"
A near-hoarse voice.
Bosacius raised his eyes with effort—and saw golden ones.
Ganyu.
His junior sister—Ganyu.
The whole world was drowned in rain, silver streaks everywhere; ruthless lightning shed cold light through clouds, sky ablaze like a blood-red curtain.
Little junior was still so beautiful: sky-blue silk hair to her waist; white robe hemmed with cloud patterns; golden eyes tightening in horror. She took a step back, staring at the dreadful Bosacius.
Lightning bisected the sky; one half blazed like day, the other sank into darkness. Bosacius knew he stood opposite the light; his sister inside it.
His most wretched, ugly moment—seen by her.
What a useless senior he was.
Ha… he forced a desolate smile.
"Senior brother…" Ganyu's voice trembled. She stared at the unconscious Yaksha, murmuring, "…Senior brother?"
"Sal Terrae," she forced calm. "Was it you, senior?"
"That massacre… was it you…?"
She stopped—unwilling to believe he'd done it.
Yet Bosacius' crazed face, blood-soaked body, eyes of pure malice and fallen Yaksha proved it vividly: perhaps senior had betrayed.
"Senior brother…"
Ganyu looked at him with hope—that pair of eyes still kind and clear as a fawn's. Chest heaving, she pleaded:
"All this—is false, right?
"It must… must be rumor… Let's… let's go home, please?"
Last hope.
Bosacius gazed at her, exhaled slowly.
So—Sal Terrae's events had already reached Liyue.
But he himself… could never go back.
He clenched his teeth, suppressing rising bloodlust—longing to kill Ganyu, pierce her spine. Human heart and karma waged final war; his face twisted.
Ganyu waited for an answer, eyes still flickering with hope; shoulders shaking, rain sliding her delicate cheeks.
After who knows how long,
her senior's mouth split with a grin. He straightened, words squeezed through his teeth:
"Killing is so fun…"
Like a child with a new toy—the Bosacius-within-karma revelled in birth, mouth opening in wild laughter:
—"Killing is so fun!"
The evil recalled Sal Terrae—those stupid lowly humans—spears through chests, hearts ground to pulp, hearing wails, seeing despair… Killing was fun!
Killing is fun.
No… don't…
The last hope in her eyes went dark, leaving emptiness.
Senior was looking at her—those eyes locked on her. As a qilin Ganyu sensed goodwill and malice acutely; the intent there was naked killing intent.
He wanted to kill her.
She stepped back, trembling; lips pale. She hated admitting it but must: she feared her own senior—not fear of death, but fear that the one wanting her death was her senior.
The one who cooked Jewelry Soup, who patted her hair with a laugh, who shopped and watched fireworks with her… so unfamiliar now.
Everything shattered. All false.
Killing is fun… killing is fun…
The frenzy washed Bosacius' soul. Head down, he stepped toward Ganyu. Scarlet eyes mirrored her face.
Evil mouth curled a cruel arc; hand lifted—body vanished. Boundless karma gathered in the palm to kill her, kill his junior sister—
Ganyu did not resist; eyes hollow, rain or tears on her cheeks, awaiting death.
Fingertips brushed her cheek—he could already picture her qilin head shattering, blood everywhere—when suddenly the body halted.
Karma stared at its hand in surprise—trembling, unable to move farther.
Bosacius was struggling.
Though dominance had swapped, his consciousness had not vanished. The instinct to protect those precious overpowers all.
Just as Bosacius couldn't kill himself, karma couldn't use this body to kill Bosacius' junior.
That meant Ganyu mattered more to Bosacius than anyone.
Karma sought its own life; Bosacius sought others'.
Half an hour earlier Bosacius had lost countless times; this time he won.
He regained the body.
"Come… kill me…"
Words forced hoarsely from his throat—he could scarcely speak. He begged—his final plea.
He stared at Ganyu. Mouth twisted in a gruesome grin, yet deep in his eyes were entreaty and gentleness. Trembling, he battled his evil-self again and again, soul already tattered.
He so wished Ganyu could read his heart, so wished she would still trust him, so wished she would listen—so wished their hearts could connect.
But he failed.
Ganyu's empty, dazed gaze saw only the twisted grin, not the pleading eyes.
Before his disappointed, saddened look, Ganyu stepped back, retreating. Inside, blankness filled by vast grief and sorrow. Come kill me—that raspy challenge dripping malice echoed in her mind.
Come kill me.
Why? You betrayed us. Why?
Smoke, fissured earth aflame, Yaksha fallen uncertain if alive, corpses of Sal Terrae piled like mountains, Salt-God dead—Ganyu's mind collapsed again and again.
Why speak such hurtful words?
I don't want to kill you—I only want you home.
She bit her lip; teeth cut deep, blood dripped. She glared at Bosacius— hatred?
Yes, hatred carved to bone; yet still she did not strike. She hated her weakness.
Ha… truly.
Bosacius watched, mocked himself:
Silly junior.
Why… why, even to the end won't you obey me?
Even then he bore no blame, only sorrow and helplessness. All his fault; his plan had gone awry—he was a useless big brother, useless senior.
Morax still had not come.
No more delay.
He could not stay in Liyue; any moment he might lose control—a disaster unimaginable.
Life was truly helpless. At last he had returned home, yet still he would die in a strange land.
Bosacius turned, walked away. Rain veiled his back.
Karma did not stop him; it crouched dormant within, as though unless life or death pressed, it would lie quiet—yet Bosacius sensed that other he gathering strength.
He had thought swallowing karma would end all—never guessed the war had truly entered its peak. Only one enemy remained: himself.
Mighty rain washed all; his life had always been struggle with self.
Where next?
Bosacius did not know. Guided by feeling, he marched through the vast rain.
Ganyu stared after him, hatred in her eyes brewed into the darkest wine.