Chapter Text
The crisp autumn air of Liyue Harbor carried a sharp bite, heralding the upcoming winter. Childe stood near the docks, staring at the tranquil waters that stretched endlessly into the horizon. The salt in the air mingled with the faintest hint of incense from the city behind him, a mix of scents that had once been comforting and familiar.
Now, it felt foreign. He wasn’t welcome here anymore.
Faint whispers floated to his ears, muffled yet sharp, like shards of glass cutting through the serene evening.
“Harbinger scum…”
“Why is he even here?”
“Hasn’t he done enough to destroy this place? Why haven’t the Qixing deported him?”
“Right from the start, I knew something was wrong with him. No normal omega smells that disgusting.”
The words stung more than he wanted to admit. Tartaglia, the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger, was not a man who gave in to weakness.
Yet the whispers clawed at him, dragging him back to a truth he couldn’t escape.
Liyue had once been his sanctuary—a place where he could exist as Ajax, a young omega who loved the sea, markets bustling with life, and the simple joy of sharing smiles with strangers. Now, all that remained was hostility.
He clenched his fists, the leather of his gloves creaking under the pressure. “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered to himself, his voice low and barely audible. “Let them hate me. I don’t care.”
But the words rang hollow, even to him. Liyue had been more than just another port of call. It had been a dream. A dream of something simpler. Something softer. Now that dream unraveled before his eyes.
Technically, nothing had changed. The market still bustled with life. The scent of fresh fish still wafted from the docks. People still laughed, still shared meals under the warm glow of lanterns. The world around him continued, unbothered by his pain.
Nothing had changed—except the people.
The air felt heavier now, pressing down on him like an unseen weight. Even the choker around his neck, which he had long grown used to, felt tighter than usual. Suffocating. It was no mere accessory but a necessity.
The scent it concealed was more than a curse—it was a reminder of what he had become. Childe had learned to keep the world at a distance. As an omega marked by the abyss, he had no choice. The abyss had twisted his very essence, warping his scent into something unnatural, something repulsive. No sweet-smelling herbs or perfumes could hide the taint. Only the choker, crafted by Dottore, offered some reprieve, masking the abyssal corruption just enough for him to move among others. The choker couldn't hide it. Not entirely.
But in Liyue, before Osial, things had been different. The people had accepted—or at least tolerated—him. They hadn’t whispered about his scent. They hadn’t questioned the choker that never left his neck. Some regarded him with disdain, but many treated him politely, even kindly, especially after he had spent an absurd amount of mora indulging Zhongli’s whims.
Zhongli.
Childe’s stomach twisted at the thought. Zhongli, the man who had bought his freedom at the cost of Childe’s.
Zhongli, the ex-Geo Archon turned consultant, who walked among mortals with grace and poise. Zhongli, the alpha that everyone in Liyue admired for his intelligence, his calm demeanor, and his status.
Zhongli, his fated mate.
Childe had known from the moment their eyes met. The bond was unmistakable, etched into his soul like a scar. He had felt it deep within him, a pull as old as time. But fate was cruel. So cruel to the likes of him.
Before stealing the Geo Archon’s Gnosis, Childe had tried to confess. If the mission ended in failure and he faced death, he wanted to leave nothing unsaid. If he succeeded, perhaps Zhongli might forgive him—if only Childe became his mate.
(Little did he know Zhongli was the Geo Archon himself.)
He had planned everything meticulously. An expensive jade hairpin Zhongli had admired in passing. A private table at Liuli Pavilion with Zhongli’s favorite dishes. A bouquet of glaze lilies paired with delicate trinkets from the market. Every detail had been perfect.
(Everything except Childe himself.)
After dinner, Childe had gathered his courage and spoken from the heart. “I know it’s unusual for an omega to confess first,” he said with a nervous laugh. “But you know me—I don’t care for tradition.”
His voice softened as he looked at Zhongli. “I… I want to spend my life with you. As your fiance, spouse, or whatever you want me to be. You’re the one, Zhongli. My fated mate.”
He expected a smile, a word of reassurance. Something to show the feelings were mutual, even if they needed time to deepen their relationship.
Instead, Zhongli’s golden eyes turned unreadable, his posture stiff. “I’m sorry,” Zhongli said, his voice firm but soft. “But I can’t.” The rejection was final.
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate your sincerity,” Zhongli added, as if to soften the blow. “But… your scent, Ajax—it’s…”
“I know,” Childe interrupted, his voice breaking. “It’s not natural, but please, I—”
“That’s the problem,” Zhongli cut him off, his tone unreadable. “I can’t recognize it. I can’t recognize you.”
The world had shifted beneath his feet. The abyss had left its mark on him, distorting everything about him. Even his mate couldn’t smell the truth of their bond.
Childe had tried again and again to bridge the gap. To explain. To plead. But Zhongli remained distant, rejecting every attempt with the same cold detachment.
After Osial, Zhongli didn’t even glance his way at the Northland Bank. He apologized to Aether, to Ningguang, and to the Adepti. But not to Childe.
Childe had given everything to protect Liyue during Osial’s release. He had ensured the civilians were safe, built dams to prevent flooding, and evacuated the harbor before the chaos began. But none of it mattered.
Zhongli had his freedom. The Tsaritsa had the Gnosis. Signora had the last laugh.
And Childe? He was left with nothing but heartbreak and a city that would happily dance on his grave.
Childe had given up pleading with Zhongli to see him as his fated mate. Deep down, he had no doubt that Zhongli was his fated mate—but he was now certain the feeling wasn’t mutual.There was no way someone like him could ever be destined for someone as perfect as Zhongli. A literal Archon, no less. The thought of an abyssal monster like him being paired with an Archon was nothing short of laughable. This had to be some cruel punishment from the universe for everything he had done.
Life is like a slapstick comedy for Childe. Everyone laughed when he got hurt.
The whispers only grew louder. The streets once filled with warmth and familiarity now felt suffocating. Liyue, once his refuge, had become a cage.
It couldn’t get any worse.
But life had proven, time and again, that everything could—and inevitably would—get worse for him.
***
Childe had been walking along the outer edges of the city late into the night when he heard a faint rustle behind him. Before he could react, a shadow lunged, and a sharp blade flashed toward his back. Instincts honed over years of battle kicked in, and he twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding the blade. His hand shot out, catching the would-be assassin’s wrist and forcing them to the ground.
The figure struggled, but Childe was faster, and the fight was over almost before it had begun. He pinned the assailant to the stone floor, his breath heavy with adrenaline. The man beneath him gasped for air, eyes wide with terror as Childe’s eyes bore down on him, cold and unfeeling.
“Who sent you?” Childe growled, his grip tightening.
The assassin trembled, but fear could not reduce the hostility in his tone. “It was… a group… who… hate you. All of you. You and your kind.”
Childe’s jaw tightened as the assassin bit something in his mouth, before collapsing with a mixture of foamy saliva and blood tainting his lower face.
Poison. The assassin chose to commit suicide by chewing a cyanide pill or something equally dangerous rather than reveal the person or people who hired him.
Childe stood motionless, his brain still processing what just happened. After Osial, the people hated him and made him felt like an outsider, but now the hatred was no longer just an abstract feeling.
People were willing to kill him for it. And they wouldn’t stop. This was just the first of many.
He took one, two, three deep breaths and run back to the bank.
Back at the Northland Bank, Childe barked orders to his subordinates. “No one goes anywhere alone. Groups of three or more. Always.”
They obeyed without question, but the unease remained. Some of his subordinates might not be warriors, and they had families. After all, they were trained to be bankers, not soldiers on the front line. They stood no chance facing a trained, motivated, and vengeful assassin.
The danger was no longer just about him.
As he sat alone in his office, the weight of it all pressed down on him. The hatred, the whispers, the rejection—it was suffocating. Everyone wanted him gone. Childe wondered if he truly belonged anywhere at all.
***
Childe knew what he had to do.
The root of his problem wasn’t just the people of Liyue or even the hatred they harbored for him. It was the one who had set all these events in motion: Zhongli.
Zhongli was the person who had turned Childe into Liyue’s scapegoat. Childe could forgive his Tsaritsa—after all, he was Her Majesty’s weapon. A weapon was meant to be used and discarded.
But Zhongli… Zhongli was his friend.
(And his mate, one-sided as it was.)
How could Zhongli do this to him—to the person he called a friend? Wasn’t friendship a contract in itself? A bond of loyalty and trust? Didn’t this betrayal mean Zhongli had broken his own precious contract?
Childe had every right to be angry. He wanted Zhongli to feel even a fraction of the pain he had inflicted on him. But he wouldn’t try to assassinate the ex-Archon—the Tsaritsa would never approve of such an action.
(And more than that, Childe couldn’t and wouldn’t harm his own mate. The one he loved with all his soul—or whatever remained of it.)
No. He would ask Zhongli for a spar. He deserved at least that much. To lash out, to hurt Zhongli just a little, so he could feel some of the pain Childe carried. It was childish. It would solve nothing. But maybe—just maybe—it would make him feel a little better.
But first, he needed to find Zhongli. Not a difficult task, considering he knew the other man's schedule so very well, thanks to the absurd amount of time he spent with Zhongli.
As expected, he found Zhongli near Heyu Tea House, apparently ready to enjoy his evening tea. But he was not alone. Aether the Traveler and his flying companion, Paimon, tailed two steps behind him. They're two figures he had come to respect and trust during his time here. Their voices drifted toward him, lighthearted at first, but soon taking a more critical tone.
Childe crept closer, his sharp instincts guiding him to a corner where he could remain unseen.
"... Poor little Meng. Baizhu said he probably needs to amputate her right foot. The evacuation team couldn't find her quick enough, and the wound on her foot had already been infected when they found her," Aether said morosely.
Childe hold his breath. What? He knew little Meng. He knew the girl loved to run around the harbor and he sometimes accompanied her and her friends whenever they need one extra person to play their pirate game. Did she... Was he...
The guilt came crashing down on him, and he felt nauseous. His evacuation plan failed and an innocent kid became a victim of his nefarious plan. His ears were ringing, but the conversation he heard was crystal clear.
"That wouldn't happen if Childe didn't act recklessly by raising Osial from his ocean grave. What's wrong with him, really? I thought he was better than the other Harbingers, but they're all the same. He's also arrogant and walks like he owns the place just because he has the mora to spend. Zhongli must be relieved to keep his distance from him lately. I don't know how you can stand him, Zhongli."
Zhongli sighed, his golden eyes steady. “Childe’s recklessness is both his strength and his flaw. It is true that his actions often lead to destruction. His ambition blinds him to the ripple effects of his choices, and his methods… they are far from honorable.”
Childe froze, his heart sinking. He waited for Zhongli to defend him, to offer some understanding, that all he did was for the greater good and Childe just followed order from his queen. But no such words came.
Zhongli continued, his voice calm and measured. “In his pursuit of strength, Childe forgets the essence of balance. He is, in many ways, a storm—powerful, but indiscriminate. His path is one of chaos, not order.”
The traveler and Paimon murmured in agreement, and Childe clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. The desire he had to fight Zhongli only got stronger after listening to their conversation.
After the traveler and Paimon bid Zhongli their farewell, Childe emerged from the shadows, his face pale but his eyes burning with determination. Zhongli stood alone, gazing into the distance as if unaware of the dagger-like words he had just spoken.
“Zhongli,” Childe called, his voice sharp.
The ex-Archon turned, his calm expression unchanging. “Childe."
“I want a spar. Now.”
Zhongli frowned slightly. “Why should I spar with you? I have no intention to fight you or indulge you in a spar."
"Consider it as a payment for everything you've put me through," Childe snapped. "I deserve as much. A friendship is a contract of loyalty and trust, no? The great Morax has broken his own contract when he used this pawn from Snezhnaya—the one he also called his friend—as his scapegoat. I need to deal with the messy aftermath and the guilt that follows, while you get to enjoy your peaceful and serene life. Where was the fairness in this situation?"
Zhongli regarded him in silence for a moment, his eyes unreadable. “Very well. If this is what you need to find justice, I will oblige.”
***
The clash of their weapons echoed across the empty road. Childe fought with the ferocity of a cornered wolf, his every move a blur of speed and precision. But Zhongli was unyielding, his polearm slicing through the air with the grace of a dancer.
“You are skilled,” Zhongli remarked, deflecting a strike with ease. “But your emotions cloud your judgment. Recklessness will not serve you here.”
Childe gritted his teeth, frustration mounting as he found himself unable to gain the upper hand. “Stop lecturing me!”
The fight escalated, but Zhongli remained in control, his movements calm and calculated. Childe, driven by desperation, finally unleashed the power he had been holding back.
In a burst of black and crimson energy, his form shifted, the armor of his Foul Legacy enveloping him. His presence darkened, an abyssal aura radiating from his body as he transformed.
Zhongli’s eyes widened, his grip on his polearm tightening. “The teachings of the Abyss…"
A deranged laughter escaped from Childe. "Are you scared, Morax?"
Zhongli raised one of his eyebrows. "Who do you think you are talking to? I am not afraid of the abyssal creature like you. Driven by greed and the hunger for power, you deliberately learned the forbidden knowledge of the Abyss. You are beyond salvation, Tartaglia."
Those words hurt. Childe lunged at him with newfound ferocity, his strikes faster and more powerful. Anger clouded his judgement and sadness crushed his heart.
Zhongli parried each blow, but his expression darkened with disgust. “You would stoop to heretical power for the sake of victory?” Zhongli’s voice was cold, sharp as a blade.
“I’ll do whatever it takes!” Childe snarled. With a sharp twist, Childe’s blade swept toward Zhongli’s chest, but the ex-Archon blocked it with a flick of his polearm. He spun around, the weight of his power bearing down on Childe with every calculated strike.
Zhongli’s gaze hardened, and with a precise thrust, his polearm pierced Childe’s shoulder. The force of the blow sent Childe crashing to the ground, his Foul Legacy dissipating as he screamed in pain.
Zhongli stood over him, his weapon still poised, but something in him faltered. His instincts screamed at him to deliver the final blow, to end the threat Childe represented. But he couldn’t. He lowered his weapon. “You have fallen so far. But I cannot bring myself to destroy you. Why… I do not know. Maybe I pity you.”
Childe looked up at him, his expression a mix of pain, anger, and despair.
Zhongli turned, his voice heavy with finality. “You are a lost cause, Tartaglia.” With that, Zhongli walked away, his figure disappearing into the night, leaving Childe alone in the cold silence of the harbour. The wound on his shoulder hurt, but the one on his heart hurt even more.
***
Childe stumbled into the Northland Bank, his face pale and his coat torn, blood seeping from his wounds. His steps were uneven, each one a struggle as he pushed through the doors. Ekaterina, who had been sorting documents at her desk, gasped and rushed to his side. “Lord Tartaglia!” she exclaimed, catching him before he could collapse. “What happened? Who did this to you?”
Childe gave her a weak smile, his face etched with pain. “It was Zhongli,” he said simply, his voice hoarse. He winced as she guided him to sit on a chair.
Ekaterina’s eyes widened in disbelief. “The consultant? Why would he…?”
Childe chuckled bitterly. “Because I’m me, Ekaterina. That’s reason enough.” He closed his eyes for a moment, his head leaning back against the chair. “Tell me something,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Am I that unlovable? That even my own fated mate despises me?”
Ekaterina froze, unsure how to respond. The sight of her usually confident Lord Tartaglia looking so broken was a shock. “Lord Tartaglia, you are not unlovable,” she said softly, though her words lacked conviction. “You… you are strong. Loyal. You’ve done so much for the Tsaritsa and Snezhnaya. Anyone would be fortunate to have you.”
Childe laughed again, but there was no joy in it. “Fortunate, huh? If only that were true.”
***
Days later, Childe stood outside the Golden House, the dread in his chest heavier than ever. His shoulder ached beneath the bandages Ekaterina had carefully applied, and he wasn’t fully recovered. Still, he had promised the traveler their weekly spar, and keeping his word was one of the few principles he refused to break.
But the thought of facing Aether—a person who secretly disliked him, as he now knew—filled him with unease. He resolved to ask for a postponement. It wouldn’t be difficult; after all, the traveler had no reason to care whether the spar happened now or later.
When he entered, Aether was already there, pacing nervously. Paimon floated beside him, wringing her hands.
“Aether,” Childe began, “I—”
“I can’t spar with you today,” Aether blurted out, cutting him off. His voice was tense, and his golden eyes were filled with worry.
Childe blinked, caught off guard. “You can’t?”
Aether shook his head. “Xiao… he’s…” His voice faltered.
Paimon stepped in, her voice unusually quiet. “Xiao’s really sick. It’s the karmic debt—it’s overwhelming him. He’s in a coma now. Aether’s been trying everything to help, but nothing’s worked.”
Childe frowned. “And Zhongli? The adepti?”
“They’ve done everything they can,” Aether said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “Even Zhongli has tried every method he knows to cleanse the karmic debt, but nothing has worked.”
Childe hesitated, his mind racing. “Have you tried using Irminsul root?”
Aether nodded. “Zhongli already spoke to Nahida. We brought Xiao to Sumeru, and she treated him with Irminsul root, but… it didn’t work. His condition hasn’t improved.”
Childe pursed his lips, his expression thoughtful. “That’s because the strongest purification energy from Irminsul isn’t found in Teyvat.”
Aether stared at him, confused. “What do you mean?”
“The purest form of Irminsul root,” Childe said slowly, “grows in the Abyss. It’s the only thing that prevented me and my teacher, Skirk, from becoming full abyssal monsters when we were trapped there. Its energy is… unique.”
Aether’s breath hitched. “The Abyss? But no adeptus could go there. Their holy nature would clash with the abyssal energy and…”
“They wouldn’t survive,” Childe finished grimly. “But I can.” He met Aether’s eyes, his voice resolute. “I’ll go. I’ll get the root and bring it back. I've been there and I know where to find the root."
Aether’s eyes widened. “You’d do that? For Xiao?”
"For you,” Childe corrected, his tone calm. “You’re his mate, and he’s important to you. I know what it’s like to see someone you care about slipping away. I… I know you don’t think highly of me, but I still consider you one of the few friends I’ve ever had. And besides…” He glanced away, his voice softening. “Maybe it’s better this way. If I succeed, Xiao lives. If I fail, well… fewer people in Liyue will have to worry about me.”
Aether opened his mouth to protest, but Paimon beat him to it. “Childe, don’t talk about yourself like that!”
“I’m just being honest,” Childe replied evenly. “You said it yourself when you and Zhongli met at Heyu Tea House.”
Both Paimon and Aether froze, their faces paling. Paimon’s eyes widened in alarm, and Aether quickly stammered, “Childe, we can explain—”
Childe shook his head, effectively cutting off whatever explanation Aether was about to give. "Save it. I don't think this is the time to dwell on that. Xiao's life is more important."
Aether hesitated before biting his lip and reluctantly nodding. “Fine. We’ll talk about this later. Let's focus on our mission to save Xiao."
“No,” Childe corrected firmly. “This is my mission, not ours. The Abyss is dangerous, Aether. I don’t want you risking your life. Trust me on this—I can handle it.”
But Aether wasn’t one to back down easily. “If it’s too dangerous for me, isn’t it just as dangerous for you? I’m not letting you take this risk alone. Even you need someone watching your back, Childe.”
“Aether—”
Paimon cleared her throat, drawing their attention to her. “Uh, how about we ask Zhongli and the adepti first? Then we can decide whether Childe gets to be reckless on his own or if Aether and I are joining him in his recklessness.”
Aether smiled at Paimon, clearly impressed by her suggestion. “That’s probably the most sensible plan.”
***
They didn’t waste any time. They gathered at the summit of Jueyun Karst, where the air hummed with divine energy. The Traveler explained the plan to Zhongli and the adepti as Childe stood silently at his side, his presence an unwelcome shadow among the revered beings.
Aether explained the situation in detail—the severity of Xiao’s condition, Childe’s knowledge of the Irminsul root, and the potential for it to cleanse the karmic energy that plagued the yaksha. Zhongli listened intently, his expression thoughtful as he absorbed the information.
"It is true that the abyss holds many secrets," Zhongli said finally. "And the Irminsul root is known to have restorative properties. However, retrieving it is no small task. The abyss is not a place one ventures into lightly."
Childe knew about it firsthand. The Abyss was a realm of endless darkness, where time and space seemed to dissolve into chaos. It wasn’t merely a place but a force—malignant, suffocating, and ever-consuming. For Childe, then a boy named Ajax, it was an unrelenting nightmare. The air itself felt alive, whispering and clawing at his mind, twisting reality until he could no longer discern friend from foe. Shadows took on monstrous forms, and the very ground seemed to pulse with malevolence.
Skirk, the enigmatic swordswoman who had found him there, became his only anchor. She taught him to fight, not just to survive but to conquer the fear that the Abyss thrived on. Her blade cut through the horrors of the dark, her voice firm and unwavering. Yet, for all her strength, even Skirk was not immune to the Abyss's corruption.
When the time came for them to escape, the Abyss retaliated, its forces clawing at them like a tidal wave. Skirk, realizing they couldn’t both make it out, made the ultimate sacrifice. She held the Abyss at bay, her figure bathed in a sickly, unnatural light as its tendrils of corruption tore into her. “Run, Ajax!” she shouted, her voice breaking through the cacophony of chaos. “You have a life waiting for you out there—live it!”
"No! Master, don't leave me alone!" he screamed in despair. "We... We must escape together!"
A sad smile graced her face. "A part of me will always be with you. You'll never be alone."
Ajax hesitated, but the pain in her eyes forced him to obey. As he fled, he glanced back one final time to see her overwhelmed by the Abyss, her silhouette swallowed by the dark. Her death was not just a loss but a scar, a reminder of the price paid for his survival.
Even now, as Childe, the memory haunted him. The Abyss had shaped him, leaving him not just with skills but with wounds that no amount of time could heal. Thanks to the abyss, he had become a warrior who feared nothing, a twisted omega not even his own mate could love, and a son unwanted by his own family.
(His mother still looked at him with tearful eyes at times, longing to find her long-lost son within the presence of the monster called Childe.)
Childe crossed his arms and spoke for the first time. "I am aware of the risks and I know where to find the root. It's not easy, but worth a try. I've escaped the Abyss once and I can do it again."
He won't fail. He can't let Skirk's sacrifice go to waste. He won't let Aether lose his mate. And Zhongli... Zhongli has lost so many people in his life. Xiao won't be the next.
But... Childe would be a liar if he said he didn't feel the slightest fear at the prospect of going back to the Abyss.
(What if the Abyss twists him further? What if he truly became a monster this time? What if-)
Cloud Retainer's sharp question startled him, forcing him to focus on her. "A mortal like you wants to go to the Abyss to retrieve a root that may or may not save Xiao?" Cloud Retainer’s feathers ruffling with disapproval. "What will you gain? And what assurance do we have that you will not use this opportunity to further your own ends? The Fatui isn't exactly known for their generosity and selflessness."
Childe bristled under her scrutiny but forced himself to stay calm. "I know I’ve made mistakes," he said evenly. "But this isn’t about me. This is about Xiao and the only chance to lift the burden of karmic debt off him. You don’t have to trust me—you can even send someone to watch over me and make sure I don't do anything... malicious. I swear it in Her Highness Tsaritsa’s name and my honor as Tartaglia, the eleventh Harbinger, that I have no hidden intention. I simply want to help because it is the right thing to do."
Cloud Retainer’s gaze didn’t waver. "You are touched by the abyss. Your motives are forever in question. Why would you take such a risk for Xiao?"
Childe hesitated, his gaze flickering toward Zhongli, who had remained silent throughout the discussion. Taking a steadying breath, he finally spoke. "Because I know what it’s like to lose people who matter. Grief is a journey that changes you forever." He paused before adding, "Also... Aether is my friend, and Xiao is his mate. Losing a mate—it’s a pain not everyone can recover from. And..."
"And?" Cloud Retainer prompted, her piercing tone cutting through his hesitation.
Childe clenched his fists before continuing, his voice quieter. "And because I don’t want to see Zhongli lose anyone else. Xiao is important to him. That’s reason enough for me."
At those words, Zhongli’s usually composed expression faltered slightly, his eyes widening with a flicker of emotion he couldn’t entirely suppress.
Cloud Retainer’s gaze remained skeptical, but Mountain Shaper spoke up, his tone measured and thoughtful. "The abyss is a place of unspeakable danger. If this Harbinger is willing to take the risk under the Traveler’s watchful eye, perhaps we should permit it. The alternative is to watch Xiao succumb to his karmic debt. Harbinger, do you truly know where to find the root?"
Childe nodded, feeling a small surge of relief at the lack of outright hostility. "Yes. I’ve been there before. When I was a child, I fell into the abyss. I got lost in the snowy woods near my home in Snezhnaya. The ground gave way beneath me, and I fell into a place no mortal should ever see. I still have no idea how and why that happened."
There was a sharp intake of breath. Childe instinctively thought it was Aether, but to his surprise, it was Zhongli. Turning to him, Childe found the other man’s face neutral, though a fleeting hint of guilt flickered in his amber eyes.
Childe frowned slightly, confused. But he dismissed the thought with an internal shrug. Must be a trick of the light.
Clearing his throat, he continued, "Someone found me there—a master, I suppose you could call her. Her name was Skirk. She taught me how to survive and how to fight. She’s the one who told me about the Irminsul root and its purification properties. Without it, the corruption would’ve consumed us both, and we’d have turned into abyssal creatures."
"The root grows deep within the abyss," Childe explained further, "in places where the corruption is strongest. But its power can purify even the most tainted energies. From Liyue, the nearest gate to the abyss is through the Chasm."
Moon Carver’s expression softened slightly as he asked, "And where is this master of yours now?" His tone was gentle, tinged with sympathy.
Childe’s voice hardened, and he looked away. "She’s gone. She sacrificed herself to help me escape the abyss. She shouldn’t have bothered."
The room fell silent, the weight of his words pressing down on everyone present.
***
Zhongli stood in the quiet of the assembly, his gaze fixed on Childe. The Harbinger’s words echoed in his mind, each syllable cutting deeper than he would ever admit.
“When I was a child, I fell into the abyss."
He felt as though a stone had lodged itself in his chest, heavy and unyielding. For so long, he had believed Childe’s knowledge of the abyss to be the product of ambition, of a hunger for power that drove him to learn the forbidden teaching of the abyss. But now, the truth lay bare before him: Childe had been a victim of circumstance, a mere boy thrust into horrors unimaginable.
The guilt was suffocating.
Zhongli’s amber eyes lingered on Childe, noting the weary set of his shoulders, the hollow sadness in his gaze. He looked exhausted and somber, a far cry from the cheerful and energetic Harbinger Zhongli once knew. Now, Childe carried himself with the demeanor of someone well accustomed to rejection. His already unpleasant scent grew colder, the metallic undertone becoming more apparent in his distress.
Still, he was willing to step into the abyss once more.
Despite everything—despite the scorn heaped upon him, the mistrust from the adepti, and the cold treatment Zhongli himself had shown—the omega was still willing to risk his life to save Xiao.
Not for glory. Not for redemption. But for Zhongli.
“I don’t want to see Zhongli lose anyone else.”
Those words replayed in his mind, striking a chord of sorrow and shame. How could he have treated Childe so poorly? How could he have failed to see the pain that lingered beneath the surface, the ache of a soul that had already endured so much? Celestia, he almost killed Childe for something he did not commit.
But now, Zhongli had no choice but to let him go. The abyss was no place for mortals, let alone one who had already been scarred by its depths. Yet Childe insisted, and Zhongli knew the Harbinger was right—he was the only one who could retrieve the Irminsul root.
With a heavy heart, Zhongli spoke. "You will not go alone."
Childe blinked, surprised.
"The Traveler will accompany you," Zhongli continued, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. "Not only to ensure your safety but also to aid you should the abyss prove treacherous."
For a brief moment, something flickered in Childe’s eyes—was it hurt? Disappointment? Zhongli couldn’t be sure.
Childe gave a small nod, his expression neutral. "Of course. I understand."
But Zhongli could tell he didn’t believe the words. Childe thought this was about mistrust, that Zhongli couldn’t have faith in him to carry out the mission alone. And yet, the Harbinger made no complaint, quickly turning to Aether and signaling that they should leave without further delay.
Zhongli watched as the two walked away, their figures fading into the distance. A dull ache throbbed in his chest, one he hadn’t felt in centuries.
"You look troubled, my dear," came a gentle voice behind him. Turning, Zhongli found Madam Ping regarding him with kind eyes.
"I am," he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. "I let him go, yet the weight of this decision lingers heavily upon me."
"Childe is strong," Madam Ping said softly. "He will succeed. And he will bring back the root to save Xiao. You must have faith."
Zhongli shook his head, his brows furrowing. "It is not that I doubt his strength or his resolve. What troubles me is that he is not at his best. He is injured."
Madam Ping tilted her head slightly. "Injured? How so?"
"From a spar," Zhongli confessed, his voice laden with regret. "One we had not long ago. He demanded a spar as a compensation for being a pawn in my retirement plan, and he used his abyssal form to fight me. I didn't know he fell into the abyss accidentally when he was a child. I almost killed him, and now he ventures into the abyss carrying wounds that I inflicted upon him. If... If something happens to him in the abyss, I will never forgive myself."
He didn’t want to recall the sparring match, but the memory surfaced unbidden. Childe, bruised and battered, had pushed himself to the limit, even resorting to his Foul Legacy form when Zhongli had cornered him. He had been so disgusted back then, believing Childe’s transformation was the result of willingly embracing the abyss’s corruption. Oh, how wrong he was.
Madam Ping’s expression softened as she listened, her gaze steady and kind. “You regret your actions.”
“I do,” Zhongli admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I nearly killed him that day, and I judged him harshly for something he could not control. And now, I’ve sent him back to that darkness, knowing he is not fully healed.”
Madam Ping’s eyes softened, a note of understanding passing between them.
"You care for him deeply," she observed. "The young Harbinger has endured much, but he is resilient. Trust in his strength, Zhongli. And perhaps, when he returns, you will find the words you have struggled to say."
Zhongli’s chest tightened at her words, a quiet resolve settling over him. For now, all he could do was wait—and hope that Childe would return safely, bringing with him the salvation Xiao so desperately needed.
For the first time in centuries, he felt truly powerless.
***
"We have arrived," Aether was stating the obvious, as he and Childe finally stepped in front of a boulder that hid a giant crack on the ground. The Chasm--a large mining area with hidden mysteries, and a gate to the abyss. Childe took a deep breath. He could see the crack extended to stygian darkness, hidden whatever danger awaiting.
His head started spinning as he inhaled the scent of abyssal taint-something metallic and pungent, not much different from his own tainted omegan scent.
The abyss wasn’t just a place of darkness; it was a living, breathing entity that clawed at his very soul. The whispers of that place still lingered in his mind, faint and haunting, as if waiting for the perfect moment to drag him back down.
He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. It had taken years to bury the fear, to wrap it in layers of bravado and confidence. But now, standing on the edge of a decision to return to the abyss willingly, every memory clawed its way back to the surface.
The distorted screams. The blinding flashes of unnatural light. The monsters. The pain.
Childe gritted his teeth. He couldn’t let this stop him. Xiao’s life hung in the balance, and the Traveler was depending on him. And then there was Zhongli.
The thought of the Archon—no, the man—who had once meant everything to him losing someone he cared about made Childe’s resolve solidify. He had been rejected, ignored, and spoken ill of, but Zhongli’s happiness still mattered to him. Perhaps it always would.
He stood, straightening his posture as if to push the weight of the abyss off his shoulders. He wasn’t the frightened boy who had fallen into that place anymore. He was Tartaglia of the Fatui, and he would not let his past define him.
Childe jumped into the nothingness.
***
The suffocating air of the abyss welcomed him as he stepped through the jagged portal deep in the Chasm. The oppressive darkness stretched endlessly, pierced only by faint, eerie glows emanating from distant formations. The traveler followed closely, his sword drawn and his gaze sharp, but even his usual confidence seemed muted in this unholy place.
Childe could relate. The abyss felt alive, its malevolence pressing against Childe’s skin, clawing at the edges of his mind. Memories of his first fall into this nightmare crept in, unbidden and relentless. He swallowed hard, shoving the thoughts aside. Focus. Get the root. Get out.
“Are you okay?” Aether’s voice broke the silence, tinged with genuine concern.
Childe forced a smile. “I am. Let’s keep moving before the welcoming committee shows up.”
"Welcoming commitee?" Aether parroted. "What do you mean?"
He got his answer immediately.
The first attack came from the shadows—a pack of abyssal beasts, their glowing eyes filled with unrelenting hunger. Childe drew his dual blades, their glow a stark contrast to the seething darkness around them.
The abyssal beasts were creatures born of nightmares, their forms grotesque and warped beyond recognition. Their hulking bodies were covered in a dense, chitinous exoskeleton that glistened like dark obsidian under the faint, eerie light of the abyss.
Their limbs were elongated and unnaturally jointed, giving them a predatory, spider-like gait as they moved with disjointed precision. Their claws were massive, serrated talons capable of tearing through stone and flesh alike.
The heads of the beasts were the most horrifying, with no discernible eyes but deep, glowing fissures where their sockets should have been. These glowing slits pulsed with a sickly violet light, as though the abyss itself stared through them. Their maws were lined with rows of jagged teeth that seemed to shift and writhe, and their breaths released a foul-smelling vapor that made the air around them shimmer with distortion.
As they moved, the beasts emitted low, guttural growls, the sound reverberating like distant thunder. It wasn’t just the physical appearance that unnerved him—there was an unnatural energy about them, as though they were mere fragments of a larger, more malevolent will.
“Stay close!” he called to Aether.
The beasts lunged at him, their movements quick and unpredictable. Childe’s body moved on instinct, a blur of lethal precision as he deflected claws and countered with slashes that left trails of hydro in their wake. Yet for every beast he cut down, two more seemed to emerge from the black void.
“Behind you!” Aether shouted, dashing forward to intercept an attacker with his sword. The beast let out a guttural roar as it fell, but Aether’s expression remained tense. “They just keep coming!”
“Welcome to the abyss,” Childe muttered through gritted teeth. He switched to his bow, summoning a flurry of hydro arrows that rained down on their foes.
The two fought side by side, a coordinated dance of survival. But as the battle dragged on, Childe began to feel the toll.
The abyss itself seemed to sap his strength. His breaths grew heavier, the familiar taint in the air gnawing at him. The beasts’ numbers finally dwindled, their last screeches fading into the oppressive silence, but Childe felt no relief. He felt the wound on his shoulder—the one he got from his spar with Zhongli—reopened. Blood started to seep through the bandage and wet his shirt.
“You’re hurt,” Aether frantically said.
“It’s nothing,” Childe lied. “Let’s keep moving. The root isn’t going to find itself.”
"But you..."
"Aether, focus. I am not the one you should worrry about. We have to save Xiao."
At the mention of Xiao's name, Aether immediately nodded and they descended further into the horror in front of them.
***
The journey deeper into the abyss grew more treacherous. The ground beneath them was jagged and unstable, forcing them to tread carefully. Childe’s memories guided them, flashes of his master’s teachings resurfacing to lead him toward the heart of corruption.
“It’s not far now,” Childe said, his voice low and gravelly.
Aether, walking just behind him, glanced around warily. "How can you tell?"
Childe laughed faintly, though there was no humor in it. "You learn to feel it after a while. The root grows where the Abyss’s corruption is strongest. It’s like standing before a lightning strike—you feel it in your bones before you see it."
At last, they came upon a vast, empty valley. At its center stood the Irminsul root. It glowed with an otherworldly light, its purity stark against the surrounding darkness. Its presence radiated an otherworldly purity that made the ground around it oddly free of corruption. The root’s holy energy was almost unbearable, even from a distance. It felt like a blazing heat pressing against his skin.
“There it is,” Childe breathed, his voice filled with equal parts relief and dread.
But as he stepped closer, his vision became blurred, a sharp pain searing through his chest. He staggered slightly.
“Childe?” Aether called, concern lacing his tone.
“I’m fine,” Childe said through gritted teeth. He wasn’t, but there was no time to dwell on it. He approached the root, every step an act of sheer will as the pain grew sharper, more overwhelming.
The closer he got, the more unbearable it became. The purity of its energy clashed violently with the abyssal taint in his body, sending a jolt of agony through him. He gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out.
Do it for Zhongli. Do it for Aether.
He forced himself to move, clawing his way toward the glowing root. His hands trembled as he reached out, the holy energy radiating from it like fire against his skin. The moment his fingers made contact, a searing pain shot through his entire body, and he let out a strangled cry.
The root resisted his touch, as though recognizing the corruption within him. But Childe pushed through the pain, using his blade to carve away a piece of the root. It felt like slicing through pure light, each stroke sending shockwaves through his body. The pain was so intense, he was pretty sure he got brief episodes of fainting and seizure.
Blood trickled down his nose as his head felt like it was about to explode. With one final, excruciating pull, Childe severed a portion of the root and secured it in a pouch. The pain subsided slightly, but his vision swam, and his knees threatened to buckle.
“We have to go,” Aether said firmly, helping Childe to his feet.
The journey back through the Chasm was a haze for Childe. He barely remembered the details of their ascent from the Abyss, the crushing weight of exhaustion muddling his senses. His body ached in ways he couldn’t fully describe; the clash between the Irminsul root’s holy energy and his abyssal taint had left him battered in both body and soul.
Aether supported him as they climbed, Childe’s legs barely strong enough to carry his weight. Every step felt like wading through thick, suffocating tar, and his breaths came in shallow gasps.
“Hang in there,” Aether said, his voice steady but tinged with concern. “We’re almost out.”
Childe nodded weakly, though his focus was already slipping. The oppressive darkness of the Abyss still lingered in his mind, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed—minutes? Hours? It all blurred together in a fog of pain and fatigue.
When they finally emerged into the Chasm’s familiar tunnels, Childe stumbled and would have fallen if Aether hadn’t caught him.
"Take it easy," Aether said, steadying him. "You're in Liyue now. You're safe."
"Safe," Childe echoed, the word unfamiliar on his tongue. Despite the pounding in his head, he managed a faint smile. "That's a first. The abyssal monsters couldn't kill me—let's just hope the citizens of Liyue don't outdo them in trying to finish the job."
Aether didn’t laugh, but there was a flicker of borh relief and remorse in his eyes. “Thank you,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “You didn’t have to do any of this, but you did. You helped me, helped Xiao… I’ll never forget that.”
“It’s nothing,” Childe said softly. “Xiao’s your mate, right? Losing a mate… no one should go through that.” His voice faltered, but he pushed on. “I just… I’m glad he’ll be okay.”
Aether nodded, his grip tightening slightly on Childe’s arm as they continued toward the surface.
By the time they reached the Chasm’s exit, the sunlight breaking through the canopy felt almost blinding. Childe squinted against the brightness, his body screaming for rest, but he forced himself to stay upright.
“We made it,” Aether said, glancing over at Childe with a small smile. “We really made it.”
Childe chuckled weakly, though it came out more like a breathless wheeze. “I’d toast to that if I weren’t half-dead.”
The joke was met with a wry smile from Aether. “You’ll be fine. Let’s get you to Bubu Pharmacy. Baizhu can help.”
Baizhu can help, but he won't. Big difference. Childe waved him off. “Later. First, the root. Xiao needs it more than I need a nap.”
“You’re both reckless and relentless,” Aether said, shaking his head.
“Comes with the territory,” Childe replied with slurred voice.
The return to Jueyun Karst was anything but triumphant. The journey back from the abyss had left Childe visibly drained, his steps heavy and his skin pallid. Aether cast worried glances at him along the way, but Childe waved them off with a weak smile, insisting he was fine.
As they stepped onto the sacred grounds of Jueyun Karst, the oppressive weight of adeptal energy brought Childe to his knees. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to keep moving despite the searing pain coursing through his veins. The clash between the area's pure adeptal energy and the abyssal taint lingering within him was excruciating, as though his very soul was being torn apart. The reaction was far more intense this time—evidence that his recent journey into the Abyss had left him carrying an excess of its corrupting taint, provoking the adeptal energy's harsh response.
"Childe?" Aether’s voice broke through the haze of pain.
"I’m fine," Childe rasped, though his trembling hands betrayed him. "We’re almost there."
When they finally arrived, Zhongli and the other adepti were already waiting, while Xiao lying unconscious on a stone platform nearby. Cloud Retainer’s sharp eyes narrowed at him, her suspicion as palpable as the air’s heavy energy.
"You have returned," she stated coldly, her tone devoid of any warmth. "And you possess the Irminsul root?"
Childe nodded, pulling the root from his bag with shaky hands. Its faint glow seemed to pulse with an otherworldly purity, a stark contrast to the corruption Childe had absorbed. "Here," he said, his voice hoarse. "It needs to be placed near Xiao. The root will absorb the karmic debt and purify him."
He stepped forward to hand the root to Mountain Shaper, but Cloud Retainer’s voice cut through the air like a blade. "And what trickery should we expect from you this time, Harbinger? How do we know this will not bring further harm to Xiao?"
Childe’s patience was already fraying under the weight of his exhaustion and pain. "It’s not a trick," he bit out. "I risked my life to get this. If you don’t trust me, fine, but let Xiao die on your conscience, not mine."
"Enough," Zhongli’s firm voice interjected, silencing the tension. His amber eyes lingered on Childe, concern flickering in their depths. "Let the root be placed. Xiao’s survival is our priority."
The adepti reluctantly stepped aside, allowing Childe to approach Xiao. The yaksha was still in coma, his breathing shallow and strained. Childe knelt beside him, every movement sending fresh waves of pain through his body. Carefully, he placed the Irminsul root near Xiao’s chest, where it began to glow brighter, its light reaching out like tendrils to envelop the adeptus.
At first, nothing happened. Then Xiao’s body tensed, his eyes snapping open as a blood-curdling scream tore from his throat. He writhed violently, his hands clawing at the air as if trying to escape the unbearable agony coursing through him.
"What have you done?" Cloud Retainer’s voice was sharp, laced with accusation. "You have brought harm to him!"
Childe staggered to his feet, clutching his side. "It’s not me," he said through gritted teeth. "The purification process is painful—it’s natural. The karmic debt is being ripped out of him. He has to endure it for the root to work."
But Cloud Retainer was unmoved. "You expect us to believe this is normal? How do we know this is not your doing, meant to weaken Xiao further?"
"I don’t care if you believe me," Childe shot back, his voice cracking under the strain. "Just... let it finish."
Xiao continued to scream, his cries of pain echoing through the mountains. Childe turned away, staggering toward the edge of the gathering. His legs felt like lead, and his vision swam. He wanted to rest, to escape the suffocating pressure of adeptal energy, but Cloud Retainer’s voice stopped him.
"You will stay," she ordered, her tone imperious. "If something goes awry, you will take responsibility for the consequences."
Childe stared at her, his exhaustion written plainly on his face. "Fine," he muttered. "Whatever you want." He sank to the ground, too drained to argue.
Zhongli observed the scene with growing unease. The pallor of Childe’s skin, the tremble in his limbs—something was terribly wrong. But he waited, his attention torn between Xiao’s writhing form and Childe’s deteriorating condition.
When Xiao finally fell silent, his body going limp, Zhongli moved swiftly to Childe’s side.
"You’re unwell," Zhongli said, kneeling beside him.
"I-" before Childe could respond, a violent cough wracked his body, and blood splattered the ground in front of him. His eyes widened in shock, and then he collapsed entirely, unconscious.
Zhongli’s eyes widened in shock and fear. He didn’t waste a second, gathering Childe into his arms. The Harbinger was alarmingly light, his breathing shallow. Even through the layers of clothes he wore, Zhongli could still feel the heat from Childe's high fever.
"We must take him to Liyue Harbor," Zhongli said firmly, standing with Childe cradled against his chest. "The clash of adeptal energy and abyssal taint must be taking its toll on him. He will not survive without immediate care."
Madam Ping, who had remained quiet until now, stepped forward with a calm but resolute expression. "Go, Zhongli. The boy has done enough. We will ensure Xiao recovers in his absence."
Zhongli nodded, his grip tightening around Childe. Without another word, he turned and began the descent to Liyue Harbor, his mind racing with thoughts of guilt and fear. Now, all he could do was hope that it wasn’t too late.
***