Rosalyne's fury blazed hotter than ever within the Fatui's headquarters, her gaze sharp enough to burn through gold sand.
Her voice rang throughout the grand hall, thick with hostility.
"You only managed to stir up such a large-scale uprising because of Beisht's backing! On your own, you have no qualifications to be an Executive!"
Her words dripped with anger and disdain. In her eyes, Shajin's abilities were a far cry from what was expected of a Harbinger.
But Shajin didn't seem to care about her provocations. Amusement danced in his eyes, and the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips only deepened.
He shook his head lightly, as if to say, You don't get it.
"Don't think getting a seat at the Executives' table gives you the right to be arrogant!"
Rosalyne's voice trembled with rage. Her glare was full of defiance.
Shajin chuckled, unconcerned by her threats. Slowly, he stood up, letting his eyes sweep over the other Harbingers. His tone was laced with a challenge.
"Then let's put it to the test. But let me be blunt."
That smirk turned razor-sharp.
"It's not that I look down on you… it's just that I could crush every one of you here with a flick of my hand."
A murmur rippled through the room. Faces darkened. His confidence — no, his outright contempt — clearly touched a nerve.
Tartaglia was the first to lose patience. He lunged forward, but Shajin sidestepped effortlessly, as if the fight was nothing more than a casual dance.
With a single hand, Shajin caught him by the neck and effortlessly hoisted him into the air.
"You? Not even close," he mocked.
Tartaglia struggled, but Shajin's grip was ironclad.
The other Harbingers prepared to intervene.
But Shajin didn't flinch. With a casual flick, he tossed Tartaglia aside.
"And since Her Majesty is watching," he added, turning toward the Tsaritsa with a glint in his eye, "why not make this interesting?"
"Let's make a bet. I'll stake my life. All you need to do is kneel. Sound fair?"
His voice was laced with mockery, as if toying with their pride.
"Vermin!" Scaramouche snarled, his expression twisted with fury.
"I'll just watch from the sidelines~" Columbina murmured lazily, slumped against her seat, utterly uninterested.
"Ah, these old bones aren't built for battle anymore," muttered Pulcinella, stroking his beard with a sigh.
"Boring," said Sandrone, her voice devoid of warmth.
"I'm not exactly suited for combat~" Pantalone adjusted his glasses with a polite smile.
And just like that, the wager was set.
Shajin versus six Fatui Harbingers.
The Tsaritsa tapped her scepter.
"Approved."
With a wave of Pierro's hand, the group was transported to the frozen tundra of Snezhnaya.
The bitter cold felt as though it could freeze time itself.
Shajin summoned a longsword, the blade gleaming with icy light, aimed directly at his foes.
Tartaglia's Hydro Vision and Electro Delusion both flared to life — Foul Legacy: Transformation.
He charged alongside Scaramouche, their momentum like a crashing wave.
Shajin hurled his blade.
It disintegrated before it even touched the ground.
He didn't even seem to care. With a note of regret, he said, "What a pity. I liked that sword."
Rosalyne cut off his escape. Scarlet flames surged around Shajin like a phoenix's fury, intent on devouring him whole. The fire painted her elegant yet cold face in flickering hues.
Yet Shajin wore not a trace of panic — only a faint smile.
"Fire… it is both destruction and preservation," he murmured.
A golden glow rose around him, soft but impenetrable. The flames could not breach it.
Rosalyne's eyes widened. "What is that?"
"This," Shajin said slowly, "is power beyond Teyvat."
Golden light poured from him, like a river consuming her fire.
"No… no, this is impossible!"
Her pride — her fire — her identity as the Crimson Witch — all effortlessly erased.
"In the face of absolute power, all technique is meaningless."
Shajin turned into a streak of gold, slicing through her fire and appearing right before her.
"You…" She froze. For the first time, she felt genuine fear.
His hand landed gently on her shoulder — and yet it felt like an unmovable mountain crushing her.
"This is the gap between us."
His gaze swept across the others. "And you're no different."
"DIE!"
With a shriek, Rosalyne unleashed her Delusion, transforming fully into the Crimson Witch.
A crimson trailing dress, ribbons of living flame curling from her waist, a butterfly-shaped mask on her face, and golden hair flaring upward like a crown of fire.
The years of burning resentment erupted forth, shattering the frost of her Delusion and painting her with a mask of madness.
But Shajin merely tilted his head — and avoided her blow with ease.
Smiling, he said, "So this is all you've got?"
Before she could react, he flicked his wrist. A golden mora coin shot toward her like a bullet.
She barely dodged it in time.
The Captain, The Doctor, and The Knave remained on the sidelines, watching silently.
"Playing your best hand late, pretending you're still in control~"
Shajin teleported away, casually removed his rose-gold sunglasses.
The moment enemy attacks neared his body, they crumbled away — as though some invisible force protected him.
"Come now, don't keep me waiting~"
He tossed three dice into the air.
Arlecchino's pupils contracted. She had realized something.
"I place my bet."
The first die landed at the feet of Tartaglia and Scaramouche — its face showing a Spade.
"I challenge fate."
The second die landed before the three highest-ranking Harbingers — again, a Spade.
"I play to win."
The last die hit Rosalyne's foot, bounced back… and stopped on a Spade.
"I spin the wheel of fate."
"All in."
"From death, I find rebirth."
Shajin floated upward. His teal-blue Vision flared, and he clasped it in his hand.
A dark green mask covered his face.
A massive black spade symbol adorned his chest.
He spread his arms wide — as though embracing a new world.
"All shall be offered… to the Amber Lord!"
_
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