In Xinyue Kiosk's opulent private room, the clink of dishes faded as Liam's words hung heavy—Keqing's vision of Liyue's human rule, once a beacon of hope, now teetered under his stark revelations, her confidence fraying like silk in a storm.
The Liyue Seven Stars wielded supreme mortal power beneath the Emperor, their every choice vetted by Rex Lapis's unerring gaze, a divine filter ensuring no rot seeped into their ranks over millennia of stewardship.
With the Emperor's weight above, none dared stray—his presence a silent hammer, forging loyalty and duty into each generation, a stability Keqing had taken as proof of human potential, not godly oversight.
But what if that hand lifted? What if the Seven Stars rose unchecked, chosen by mortal whims alone, free of the Emperor's discerning eye and iron will—could Liyue's honor hold without that celestial anchor?
Keqing's mind raced to Mondstadt—a city unshackled from divine rule, where nobles once enslaved the masses in a lawless spiral, a chaos she'd dismissed as foreign, unworthy of Liyue's disciplined soul.
"No—Liyue's different," she muttered, shaking her head as if to banish the thought, her faith in her people a shield against the dark mirror Liam held up, a refusal to see Mondstadt's fall as her own future's shadow.
Liam caught her denial, his voice cutting through—"Mondstadt's a fine lesson, one my own world echoes; power corrupts the highborn, turning folk to chattel—trampled, slain, toys for the mighty—until revolt restarts the cycle," his tone a grim tolling bell.
"Human kindness can rival Sumeru's Great Mercy Tree King, radiant and vast, yet their evil chills even the Abyss—greed drowns virtue, a tide of want that never ebbs," he pressed, painting a species flawed beyond her rosy lens.
"Gods guide, yes, but more—they suppress, their might a dam against humanity's dark currents; without them, my homeland's wars raged ceaselessly, rot and tyranny its endless refrain," Liam continued, his words a chronicle of a godless earth.
"Two global conflicts claimed lives a hundredfold beyond Teyvat's count—millions cried for a deity to leash mankind's malice, to gift peace, to weave a world of truth and grace," he said, his voice softening with a pity she couldn't yet grasp.
"No such gods answered there—only myths born of desperate hope—and had a figure like Rex Lapis stood watch, my home might've mirrored Liyue's steady millennia, not its blood-soaked ruin," he finished, his gaze locking hers, heavy with truth.
Keqing sat stunned, her expression blank—her dream of a Liyue thriving under human rule, a seamless baton pass from divine to mortal hands, crumbled under the weight of Liam's relentless history, a utopia she'd clung to now ash.
She'd envisioned peace unbroken, a golden age of self-reliance, but Liam's tale spun a different thread—a world sans gods spiraling into misery, a chaos she'd never dared imagine for her beloved land.
Yet defiance flickered—"That's your world, not Teyvat—Liyue's folk won't falter so," she countered, her eyes fierce but shadowed, a bravado masking the doubt his words had sown deep within her core.
Liam sighed, shifting tack—"Fine, set aside human flaws for now; tell me, Kitty, if Osial breaks free from Guyun Stone Forest's seal, can Liyue's mortals stand against a demon god alone?"—his question a spear aimed at her blind spot.
Her pupils quaked, breath catching—demon gods, a peril she'd sidestepped in her grand design, their might a specter Liyue's history knew too well, quelled only by the Emperor and his Yaksha, never by human hands.
Liam pressed on—"For eons, Rex Lapis and his immortals held such threats at bay; strip that shield, and Osial's wrath would raze Liyue—mortals can't match that power, a truth you've overlooked," his voice a steady drumbeat against her faltering resolve.
"And beyond that—Teyvat's Seven Nations thrive under divine aegis; if Liyue sheds its god, it sinks a tier, a lamb among wolves," he added, layering her dread with geopolitical thorns she hadn't plucked.
"Gods or none—it's a chasm; other Archons might not meddle, but Zhidong's Fatui alone would trample Liyue, their divine backing a cudgel against a godless port," he warned, his words painting a future of subjugation she couldn't refute.
"Liyue, Teyvat's trade titan, would crumble—not for lack of will, but because others wield gods while you'd cast yours aside," he concluded, his stare piercing as Keqing—Kitty now—fell silent, her certainty drowned in a sea of stark realities.
Her faith held, but her mind shattered—before this meal, she'd brimmed with visions of human triumph; now, blankness reigned, her ideals a mosaic smashed by greed, demons, and rival nations' claws.
She'd scorned the Emperor's yoke, blind to how it braced Liyue—without that fatherly aegis, her people might've perished long ago, a humbling truth that stung her pride raw.
After a long pause, she exhaled, voice low—"Teyvat's a divine domain, isn't it? I've overreached," her admission a surrender, Liam's clarity peeling back her folly layer by bitter layer.
Smart as she was, Kitty grasped it—Seven Gods, Seven Nations, a celestial order no mortal could upend; Heaven's law alone would crush her dream, even sans the threats Liam laid bare.
Liam softened, seeing her slump—"Pure human rule's a dead end here, but a blend? That's not off the table," his shift a lifeline tossed to her sinking spirit, a flicker of hope in the gloom he'd cast.
Her eyes snapped up, brightening—Kitty's spark reignited, her gaze locking Liam's, eager for a thread to weave her vision anew, a compromise she'd seize with both hands after this night's reckoning.
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