Khaenri'ah had sinned.
Its sin was unforgivable.
The moment its sages sought forbidden knowledge from the Abyss, the nation's destruction became inevitable. Khaenri'ah had once stood at the summit of human civilization. Now, under the judgment of the Seven, its thriving cities had become wastelands.
Calamity from beyond the world descended upon the nation. It breached Khaenri'ah's ancient walls and spread across the vast land, corrupting every living thing in its path.
A colorless sky hung mournfully at the limits of sight, while haze shrouded the crimson earth. Yet even upon so barren a land, a flower still bloomed.
Though late spring had already come, a few cherry blossoms clung to a slender branch, struggling to survive in the howling cold wind.
So Khaenri'ah has cherry blossoms too.
Makoto could not help thinking it as she looked at the flowers.
But their lives had already reached their end. Like candles guttering in the wind, they might go out at any moment—and Makoto, like those blossoms, might die at any moment as well.
Makoto was Inazuma's Narukami. She was also the weakest of the Seven Archons.
Khaenri'ah's civilization had reached its end, but a civilization's dying struggle was also the moment when it displayed its greatest strength—strength enough to bring down a god.
"Cough."
Makoto covered her mouth and coughed. When she raised her hand, the delicate fingers, almost translucent in their pallor, were covered in blood.
Her snow-white kimono had been stained red, like white cherry blossoms veiled in crimson frost—radiant and sorrowful at once. Her body swayed, scarcely able to remain upright.
Before her, a tide of calamity filled half the sky.
It covered the entire plain of Khaenri'ah. Corruption had dyed even the sky itself, turning the clouds the color of blood.
The cherry blossoms—the last remaining trace of white—gradually disappeared into the frigid wind. Their petals broke apart and were swallowed by the black Abyss. Makoto watched them and smiled serenely.
She had told no one about this journey. She had not even told her younger sister, Raiden Ei. The gentle and frail Archon had entered this land of calamity alone.
She knew Inazuma needed Ei. With disaster and corruption sweeping across all of Teyvat, her people needed the stronger god to protect them.
And so Makoto had come to Khaenri'ah alone.
If hers were the only life sacrificed, Makoto would have been content.
Yet as death drew near, she felt sorrow.
She had not even said a proper goodbye.
Ah...
Makoto felt death approaching. Life poured ceaselessly out of her, like sand scattered into the air, like shattered white petals. Her body grew thin and translucent, slowly dissolving.
She was approaching Death.
Makoto still remembered... She and Kiyono Raimei had buried a jar of wine in the center of the Pillar General's courtyard. Such fragrant malt ale. What a pity... They had promised to dig it up and drink it together at their gathering, but now she would never taste it.
Ah...
She wanted to taste it so badly.
That idiot was such a wonderful cook... Why had he refused to become her personal chef?
Honestly... Ah.
Makoto slowly closed her eyes. Her physical form disintegrated, leaving only her inner world behind. Yet it was like duckweed without roots and could disperse at any moment. Nothing remained within that desolate world but endless ruins and eternal emptiness.
Gradually, however, Makoto felt another warmth.
She opened her eyes with difficulty and saw a sea of cherry blossoms filling the sky. Pink petals drifted everywhere amid distant thunder and a gentle breeze. An open plain stretched beneath her, a mild wind brushed her cheeks, and dappled sunlight swayed with it.
It was familiar.
This world... was warm.
Kamigiri.
The blade had transformed from Orochigiri and passed through the hands of three masters. Wind and thunder slept within it, and it had been bathed in the blood of both Orobashi and the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles. It was no longer a mortal weapon.
Now Kiyo Seigan had placed his Musou Isshin within the blade.
Across the past thousand years, Kiyo had come to a new understanding of eternity.
The world inside Kamigiri was his heart projected into reality, a place where even time became indistinct.
Now the blade received Makoto's consciousness. Its eternal time sealed that consciousness away, arresting the dissolution of her soul.
"You are already dead, Makoto."
She heard the young man's voice as though he were speaking beside her ear.
"In history, Raiden Makoto truly died. Her body has already vanished. I did not disrupt the original timeline. From this day forward, you cannot continue to exist as Raiden Makoto."
Kiyo could neither break nor change time.
All he could do was deceive it.
"I preserved your soul and your consciousness," he continued softly. "Before long... Ei will create a puppet to safeguard her eternity."
"A puppet called the Raiden Shogun."
"I will place your consciousness and soul within that puppet. You and the Raiden Shogun will become one, and you will continue to exist as a new life."
A new... life?
Makoto repeated the words faintly, lost in thought.
"No one can ever know of this," the young man said gravely. "For now, I will erase your memories."
"...Who are you?" Makoto pressed her lips together and gazed into the sky stained pink with blossoms.
But a question was not always asked in search of the truth. Sometimes the questioner already knew the answer and sought only confirmation.
Makoto could feel it.
Her heart was now within Kiyo Seigan... within Kiyono Raimei. She stood inside his inner world. Everything here was transparent, everything perfectly clear. When lightning crossed the sky, Makoto heard the muted roll of thunder—
and with it, the beating of his heart.
"Five hundred years from now, there will be a gathering," the young man said, his voice soft as a mellow afternoon breeze. "We will all be waiting for you."
"I see." Makoto smiled helplessly.
"There is one more favor I must ask of you. It is a terribly selfish request, and you may refuse."
Kiyo continued, "Five hundred years from now, Ei will trap herself in a dead end... She will lock herself inside the Plane of Euthymia and never come out."
"I gave my word that everyone would attend."
"Until she can truly leave the Plane of Euthymia, please stay beside her. She will be very lonely. Keep her company, and guide her out of that desolate place. Help her find an Eternity of her own."
"What am I to do with the two of you...?" Makoto sighed, then gave a soft huff. "Very well, I promise. She is my little sister, after all... Honestly, she is such a worry."
They both understood what this meant.
For a warrior in pursuit of eternity, battle would be the only form companionship could take.
"Thank you... Makoto." Kiyo lowered his eyes. "Thank you."
"Until everything is settled, remain here. Live within my dream."
Live within Musou Isshin.
"Your dream..." Makoto tilted her head with a soft laugh. A radiant smile spread across her lips, like the season's first cherry blossoms beneath the spring sun. Warm light and pink flowers blended together until no one could tell where the blossoms ended and the sunlight began.
"What does your dream look like? I'm curious."
"My dream is right before you."
Makoto raised her eyes to the blossoms filling the sky and the pure-white world beneath them. Tilting her head, she said, "Your dream is beautiful."
—"Then let me live inside it."
Those were her final words.
In the physical world, Kiyo slid Kamigiri back into its sheath.
He breathed out softly, took a packet of rolling papers and tobacco from his pocket, and lit a cigarette. Only after watching the smoke disperse through the cool air did he turn to face the calamity bearing down upon him.
Once the blade was sheathed, there was no longer any need to draw it.
After so many years spent cutting snow upon the mountains, Kiyo no longer needed a sword to cut down his enemies.
He had inherited Bosacius's sword perfectly, along with the Pillar General's heart. He had cultivated as an adeptus upon Mt. Aocang for nearly a thousand years and opened an inner world all his own.
At this moment, he had realized one of his dreams:
to become the strongest beneath heaven.
He exhaled.
Kiyo merely raised one slender hand and pressed it lightly against the Abyss. Countless invisible slashes appeared between heaven and earth. His fingertips moved as though playing a melody, and every slash descended upon an abyssal beast.
Thousands upon thousands of creatures were cut down at once.
The blades did not strike their flesh. They cut into the depths of the corruption, into consciousness itself.
Once consciousness was severed, physical form naturally collapsed with it.
In a single instant, every trace of calamity in the surrounding land was purged. Only a freshly washed sky remained, and clarity returned to the world.
Warm sunlight fell through the clouds.
With it fell one last pink cherry blossom.
Khaenri'ah's fall was an inevitable fact. It had erred, and it had to bear the consequences of that error. This could not be changed.
Kiyo had no power to change it. The only thing he could do... was cleanse the corruption from its people.
Nuo Exorcism.
He walked across the desolate land, receiving every anguished, grieving, and despairing soul into his heart.
Bosacius had once accepted corruption into his body, and in the end it had consumed his mind and driven him mad.
But Kiyo received it with his consciousness... with Musou Isshin. Within that boundless world of pure white, every lost and wandering soul would find a place to rest.
The soil of his heart absorbed all their pain and despair, yet preserved the seeds of their hope. The seed born in the depths of Musou Isshin would one day grow into a towering tree and protect the mortal world in his stead.
This had been Kiyo Seigan's dream from the very beginning:
To become strong enough.
To live without a heart or a care.
And then to grant all people the splendor of a single spring.
Khaenri'ah's pain would remain carved into the earth of Teyvat forever. He could not save a dying civilization. All he could do was help it pass a little faster, and a little more peacefully.
This was the end of Khaenri'ah.
What Kiyo did not know was that he had once been Khaenri'ah's Twilight Sword. Yet he had failed to save his homeland, for he had died before Khaenri'ah fell.
In the end, however, that extinguished sword gathered his homeland into itself.
He had redeemed his home.
And he had redeemed himself.
Before the calamity ended, he would fight the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles. That battle could not be avoided, and Kiyo would not yield.
From the perspective of history, the Sustainer was right and he was wrong.
Kiyo knew that.
Yet even knowing he was wrong, he would still do it.
We will be reunited.
—
She could not find him.
Lumine no longer knew how many years she had spent searching. Five? Ten?
She could not remember.
Ever since she awoke, she had searched throughout Teyvat. He had told her to travel, so she had crossed every nation. She had visited Liyue and Sumeru... seen deserts and rainforests, climbed snowy plains and high mountains.
But Lumine had never found him.
Teyvat was beautiful. The sights along the way were truly beautiful. Yet without a companion at her side, there was no one with whom to share them. Her memories of the journey grew dim and indistinct, leaving no lasting impression.
Travel was no longer travel.
It was merely getting from one place to another.
Something beautiful only became beautiful when it was shared. Lumine wanted to find that man and tell him everything she had seen upon her journey:
the people she had met, the things she had experienced, the places she had visited, and the food she had tasted.
She had so very much to tell him.
Yet she could not find him.
Still, Lumine would keep searching.
Through another decade, and another after that... through a century, through five hundred years, she would find that man.
She waited for the day they would meet again.
Just as, five hundred years in the future, she would stubbornly wait for the man from a thousand years ago to return.
Time was a long river. From its two distant ends, they ran toward one another.
This time, she came to Khaenri'ah.
Lumine knew it was his homeland.
He would return here eventually.
Above Khaenri'ah's desolate ruins, Lumine saw a god clad in pure white. That being's mere existence embodied the Truth of the world.
Golden hair floated in the air. Her eyes held no extraneous color, only a pure-white void—ancient beyond measure and exalted beyond measure, as though all the radiance in the world had converged upon her.
The being lowered her gaze to Lumine, her face serene.
"Presumptuous child of man."
In an instant, chains formed from reason pierced Lumine's body. Blood blossomed from her wounds.
But the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles paused.
For the first time, a trace of surprise entered the depths of those empty, impassive eyes.
She looked away from Lumine and turned toward somewhere in the distance.
"One more presumptuous still..." she murmured, her voice containing only deathly silence. "A mortal who has presumed upon time."