Like smoke from a pipe, fog swirled in the atmosphere and it clung to his skin like sweat. The haze unfolded in front of him but not in the natural sense. His visibility never stayed the same. Sometimes it would fade and he could glimpse entire villages, other times he could barely see his own legs. Like he was wading through a pond his feet dragged with every step, but the ground looked entirely normal.
The karmic entity, Bosacius, stood beneath a swinging lantern. A shadow immersed in light. He blinked. Shenhe took his place, fully in the flesh, bound like a prisoner in a tangled mess of rope. She grinned.
"I wonder, Chongyun, what is it that you fear? Here you are, standing before me without purpose," Chongyun opened his mouth to speak, "ah! You want to learn how to exorcize monstrosities like me. But why? Is it a sense of duty?" The fog dispersed to reveal Xingqiu as he had seen him last. Hunched over a desk and malnourished, trembling beneath the idle chatter of a clock. "Or did the thought never cross your mind? You do as your family does."
His mother and father, paused in a distant battle, fought against some draconic creature. Vaguely familiar, it bared several rows of blood caked fangs. "Like a lemming led to a cliff, you just leapt into the Chasm. Over some mortal trifle, glued to Alatus' side like a stubborn thorn. Congenital Positivity." She clicked her tongue, "A fancy word for psychosis, wouldn't you say?"
"Nothing you say matters! You're just trying to get a rise out of me!" He imagined patterns, talismans, he heard mantras between his ears. Like whispering discordant masses of people. Shenhe spoke in her voice, the pitch a bit lower than he remembered. He was hearing her thoughts. That blue-haired boy that follows him around. He teases him, deceives him, threatens him. It wouldn't be hard-
In a flash, Shenhe sliced through Xingqiu's leg with a hooked blade. Blood trickled like paint down the walls of his bedroom, the desk smashed in twain, papers littered everywhere. Xingqiu's face contorted in pain; he cried silently as he always did. Chongyun reached out, yet his claymore was absent as she continued to torture him; she snapped his legs like twigs.
"Shenhe!"
"Chongyun?"
"Interesting. Have I struck a nerve?"
"Let him go!" Heat rose once again in his cheeks, he watched himself throw out his blade. Wildly and without form, he thrust his claymore forward. He tripped and fell on his back, and he scrambled uselessly. Away from Xingqiu's bisected corpse. Shenhe slashed her polearm across Chongyun's chest, and he rolled from under it. He sprinted as the shadows around him disproportionately stretched and waned.
The familiarity of Wuwang Hill vanished; now he hurdled over trellises of grapevines. He missed the final jump and smashed into a supply cart. Electricity sparked against his neck as Bosacius tackled him to the ground. The sky illuminated with a jarring switch. The ground slid under him like a passing wave, and a boulder split the ground.
It slid into a makeshift wall and Lumine glided through the dirt. Right to a halt beside him. She held a strange device and she called over her shoulder,
"We found the last!" Anemo threw him back against Lumine, metal sung as Xiao fought the demon, and Noelle crouched beside his other shoulder. "This is a catalyst for exorcists," Lumine shoved it into his chest, "really old. Figure out how it works. The rest of us will cover for you."
The shields flew up and he began to chant.
The Archon War was merciless. On a single order from Celestia, society flipped upside down. Gods and Goddesses, century long companions, all fell on each other's blades. Immediately, as if none of this ever mattered. Rex Lapis couldn't claim he was any different. When the fields broke out in senseless violence, he participated eagerly, vengefully.
The power dangled over his head like a carrot on a stick, and before he could learn of its terrible price he was already paying it, his knees deep in blood and steel.
In the end, most perished to one another. Some fell to themselves. Some even fell to their own people, like salt dissolving in a tide. In the first one thousand years, mortals witnessed hundreds of generations, countless cycles of history, and the rise and fall of empires. To them it passed like a single afternoon.
Even now he can only remember feelings. A few highlights and a thought or two. In the early days, his mornings were indistinguishable from his nights. He had no concept of time, and he couldn't afford to look up and see for himself. Lest it be the last time he saw the sky.
When the numbers dwindled and the miasmas rose he knew a few friends. The yakshas only answered to him at first, but eventually they grew to question. That led to friendly discourse, a joke or two between fights. Then he met Guizhong. More gentle than the god of salt, filled with more mirth than all of them, yet she still fought with the strength of the rest. Somehow her delicate soul survived.
He was foolish. He let himself hope. He let himself laugh. It was a mistake, because all it takes is a moment of weakness. One moment with a shield unraised, a single moment to oneself in a field of flowers. Equipped with a lyre and not a sword. Death reaps regardless of circumstance. The light that illuminated those years flickered and smothered him in darkness.
She was everywhere. In the breeze that rustled the grass, in the tiny pebbles that lined the sand, in the fires that refused to blow out, in the floods that cleansed, in the storms that froze over and bloomed anew. He remembers very little of this time. He never slept, but sometimes entire days would pass and he would be none the wiser. Standing in the same place watching the same leaves fall again and again.
Eventually he was called to accept his gnosis, and he was introduced to the other six. Like they were actually people. They weren't. They were shells of their former selves, and the gnoses did little to fill them. The rest is more recent history, the kind that can be studied and remembered, and during that time he led Liyue in the only way he knew how.
Constantly. Persistently and without respite. After all, they were far from done. Demons required slaying, land required terraforming, cities required building. There were so many messes to clean, and Celestia did nothing to help. He wanted it done right, so he did it himself.
There were others that helped, but most fell anyway. The five yakshas quickly became one, and once they nearly became none; he found Alatus submerged in the freezing cold. In the waters of Dragonspine, he drifted in a pool with his self-inflicted wounds. By luck, or by some force still unknown to him, he survived. They both tried to rest and failed miserably.
Meanwhile, Barbatos was a nuisance. One day he just showed up. Right at the war's end he was thrust into his seat as if shoved. He harbored pain as they all did, but like Guizhong he didn't show it unless you cared to look. He left Mondstadt to his people and instead circulated between them all like an annoying, pestering fly. Eventually he wore him down.
On a day when the winds were calmer, he arrived on adeptal soil like he lived there. In a way he did, and as tired as Morax always was, he couldn't bring himself to raise his defenses. Instead of his characteristic bow, Barbatos pulled out a lyre and a bottle of wine. There was no reason for him to kill him. Even if they were peers. He talked the entire time. He waited for input, and when Morax gave none he filled in the silence with music. He sang of warmth and of zephyr, the sensation of a gentle breeze.
At the time he was growing his repertoire, and he stumbled on Guizhong's lullaby, which she probably sang even as she died. He couldn't have known the significance, or maybe he did. It didn't matter. It was the first and only time he ever saw him cry. He offered to watch Liyue for just a night, to let him sleep. He dreamt for the first time.
On a grand pirate ship, everyone he ever loved sailed across a great big sea. Talking and drinking tea without a single care. As if there weren't gods and monsters chained beneath them, they laughed. Even Xiao.
That morning he woke up stranded in a canoe.
And that brings us to the part that you know. Osial rose again, Rex Lapis faked his death. He watched the world move on without him. For once. He wanted closure; he took up a job with an eccentric funeral director. He buried the bodies of the adepti, and after he returned to an empty house.
Still, he found that people needed him. Not as Rex Lapis but as Zhongli. Zhongli needed to arrive to work on time. Zhongli needed to pay for things at the store. Zhongli needed to deliver medicine once monthly, and occasionally Zhongli would accompany the traveler. If only to ensure she didn't concuss herself again. Though he'd be lying if he claimed not to enjoy her company.
It was on a whim that he decided to investigate the commerce guild.
"So the Rex Lapis I saw during the battle was just a memory of the Archon War." Xingqiu listened thoughtfully. He asked questions when he didn't understand, and he nodded even when sleep threatened to take him.
"Right. Though I maintain some fraction of power, I'm far from divine. To me Rex Lapis is dead."
"I see." Xingqiu's nerves seemed to calm. Since the events of last night, he seemed to revere him for a man he was not. Now he at least resumed his typical mannerisms. He no longer sat stiff like a board. "The other day you were going to ask me something. Something like…when you see me?"
"Ah. At the time I was simply curious about your perception of me. I'm curious about how well I adapt, since I know I have things to improve. Those who are close to me hold positive biases," Zhongli paused to take a sip of water, the first he had taken since he began speaking, "I suppose it still stands, and you're perhaps the best source. What do you think of Zhongli?"
"Hmmm…" Xingqiu smiled with his eyes, "he talks a lot. I believe I asked what happened after I fell unconscious, yet I've now been lectured on several thousand years of history. Not that I'm complaining, of course."
As he watched a finch perch on the window sill, he continued.
"He's kind. He stands for justice. He often misses social cues, but then again so do I. He intervenes often, yet he is humble about his talents," he met his gaze, "I'll admit that the truth scared me at first, but you're right. He's just a man. He's like a grandfather in the body of someone young. He's dependable. Even when you don't share blood."
"He also happens to be Rex Lapis." He winked, "But I believe that's classified business information."
