“The wind brings tidings: seven victors of the Archon War have ascended to divine thrones, becoming the new Archons of the mortal realm…”
— Northern Snezhnaya, Pale Star Court, Kitezh City —
A mountain of official documents nearly buried the expansive desk.
The scratch of a quill on paper was the sole continuous background sound in this palace, luxurious as if carved from solid blocks of ice.
That was until an unusually lively breeze slipped through the heavy stained-glass windows, spinning around the figure buried under paperwork at the center of the room.
It delivered a whisper scented with dandelion wine and Cecilia flowers directly into his ear.
The quill paused.
“…Huh?”
Behind the desk, the monarch of Snezhnaya, Emperor of the Fairies—Monomakh Snezhnitsny—slowly raised his head.
A completely blank, Aqua-like expression covered his handsome face, evident that reviewing endless documents had thoroughly fried his brain.
Unlike the proud, cold, and inviolable Tsar of White Sands known to the outside world, beneath this deceptively elegant skin resided a soul from the three-dimensional world.
Moh—or rather, Monomakh—was an unlucky transmigrator.
His past life as an art student in Russia had ended at the hands of the motherland’s famously shoddy light industry.
A wooden bed that collapsed unexpectedly in his sleep, and an exposed wooden stake that pierced his heart with surgical precision.
It was such an absurd way to die that even fellow transmigrators killed by Truck-kun would fall silent in respect, mourning the heavy truck’s lost commission.
Even stranger, he hadn’t landed directly in Teyvat.
First, he had taken a detour through the universe of Honkai: Star Rail.
Starting out as a memetic entity under the Remembrance, he climbed the ranks to become a Tuner under the Harmony, before eventually jumping ship to join the Astral Express under the Trailblaze.
Those days were nothing short of colorful.
He had forged a deep friendship with the “raccoon”—referring to a certain pair of grey-haired Trailblazer siblings—diving into trash cans together and wolfing down red soil like fine dining.
At one point, he was dedicated to adapting every famous song into the “Hakimi Song” to echo across the cosmos.
Alas, his grand ambition collapsed halfway through.
When a disaster scattered the Express crew, Moh was forced into the life of a refugee, crashing headlong through the borders of Teyvat and proudly joining the ranks of the Descenders.
Perhaps having spent too much time in Star Rail, Moh hadn’t just picked up the unhinged behavior of the Pathstriders; he had encoded pure surreal abstraction directly into his DNA.
Now elevated as the Cryo Archon and Master of Fairies, in private he was an irredeemable chaos enthusiast.
For instance, right now—
Moh violently tossed the quill into the inkwell, leaned back into his plush high-backed chair, and let out a roar of utter liberation.
“Approving these damned documents day after day, managing a vast wasteland where we can’t even grow decent potatoes yet! I’m practically turning into a mushroom!”
He stood up with a start, rounded the desk piled high with files, and snatched up a violin resting nearby.
With no one else around, there was no need to maintain his divine facade.
“Vacation time! I get to go out and play! A gathering of the Seven Archons—and it’s the original Seven!”
A sharp, screeching sound shattered the silence.
Outside the door, the fairy guards and heralds froze in unison, before instantly melting into expressions of sheer enchantment.
“What a gorgeous melody…” a young scribe murmured reverently.
“His Majesty is composing another masterpiece.”
They couldn’t hear the raw screeching of his violin; all they heard was the melodic, soul-stirring movement filtered through [Tuning].
Crisp as an icy spring, yet expansive as the snowstorms of the north.
This was a “craft” Moh had brought over from Star Rail: even if he played a literal ear-rape screech, to others, it would sound like high art.
This was the manifestation of his authority as the God of Art and Literature.
[Tuning]—the exact same ability as Sunday—could boost morale on the battlefield, add flair to grand banquets, and transform abstract noise into heavenly tunes.
It was also one of Moh’s key trump cards in winning the Archon War Battle Royale.
Naturally, this ability couldn’t be applied to paperwork, or he would have turned reviewing memorials into a full-scale orchestral concert long ago.
[Light Cone]—his old trade from his days as a Memookeeper—was a memory encapsulation mechanism that preserved precious memory slices.
Black Swan used divination to add mystery to Light Cones, while March 7th used photography to create them.
Moh, leveraging his past-life background as an art student, used painting to capture memorable moments.
As for literature, in order to help the fairies who were enslaved by Mstislav and achieve the grand unification of the north, Moh combined classic masterpieces and modern web novels, imparting wonderful knowledge from his previous life through storytelling.
Among the fairies were many clever minds, and this awakened their courage to refuse to remain slaves to the Beast King.
The fairies believed Moh’s writings possessed a special magic that granted people courage and wisdom.
In truth, it was simply the fairies enlightening themselves; Moh’s divine title was somewhat of a misunderstanding.
Of course, his stories and writings were far ahead of this era, and combined with his experience traversing the starry skies, it was no surprise he could write works that stirred the fairies’ souls.
The violin notes gradually faded.
Having vented his madness, he reverted once more into the picture of an elegant and noble monarch.
*Ah, pure bliss!*
And don’t mock him.
This penchant for music was far better than rummaging through trash and getting covered in grime like the Trailblazer siblings.
Everyone had their own quirks.
Just as Seelies loved guiding humans to treasure chests, what was wrong with the Cryo Archon enjoying the Hakimi Song?
He walked to the window, reached out into thin air, and caught the stray breeze before it dissipated completely.
Barbatos’s message was straightforward: The war is over.
Should the seven victors gather in Liyue to get acquainted?
Tiny ice crystals coalesced at Moh’s fingertips, gently wrapping around the tail of the breeze as he spoke in an elegant, drawn-out fairy tongue:
“Lord Barbatos, the tidings you bring are as delightful as melting snow in spring. The war has ceased, and the Seven Archons stand established. For a moment so worthy of commemoration to be confined to a private drink between gods would be far too lonely. If we were to turn this day into a grand festival celebrated by all living beings in Teyvat, allowing songs of joy to flow down every stream and laughter to sweep across every field, it would better showcase the radiance of this new era…”
He spoke for two full minutes, his words dripping with poetic elegance, perfectly fitting the elevated stature of a god.
Translated into plain speech: *I’m down for a drink, but just us gods partying alone is boring.
Why not turn it into a Teyvat-wide celebration so everyone can join the fun?*
Finishing his response, he used a gentle gale of ice and snow to give the breeze a speed boost, shoving it toward Mondstadt like an express delivery package: “Off you go!”
The breeze scampered off, carrying a long string of elegant yet verbose fairy speech.
Having done all this, Moh felt like a high school student who, after suffering through a brutal month of finals, was suddenly told summer break had been extended.
He felt light enough to float.
Finally, a temporary vacation.
“The living Seven Archons…” He paced back to his desk, looking at the mountain of remaining documents, and suddenly felt they looked almost cute.
“And the limited-edition Greater Lord Rukkhadevata whom I’ve never seen, the original Electro Archon, Hydro Archon, Pyro Archon… Oh, and I’m one of them now too.”
Before transmigrating, Moh had been a dedicated player of both Genshin Impact and Honkai: Star Rail.
Unfortunately, he had transmigrated near the end of the Natlan version update, leaving him completely in the dark regarding Snezhnaya’s details.
Having witnessed too many tragedies and surreal antics in the chaotic universe of Star Rail, the world of Teyvat seemed wonderfully gentle—a fairytale world wrapped in warmth.
Even King Phanes’s Skyfrost Nails looked almost endearing; at least they gave people a quick death.
Unlike the Swarm Disaster, where an intelligent being had to watch helplessly as they slowly mutated into a mindless arthropod.
How terrifying was that?
Moh felt quite pleased with himself for carving out his own realm in this world.
Cryo Archon, Protector of Fairies, Lord of Spirits, Emperor of the Pale Star, Tsar of White Sands, Tuner of the Snow Nation, God of Art and Literature—Monomakh Snezhnitsny.
*Taking the nation’s name as his surname—who else could compare!*
Having finished acting up, it was time to get down to business.
“Who should I take along? Anastasia is a must… What about gifts? State gifts and personal gifts for each Archon need to be prepared separately… Who will watch the house while I’m gone? And those documents…”
His excitement instantly deflated by half under the crushing weight of reality.
He let out a wail and ruffled his impeccably styled white hair.
“When will this place finally stop driving me crazy…”
Snezhnaya’s barren poverty always reminded him of Russia in his past life—it wasn’t called the birthplace of tragic literature for nothing.
Unifying the fairy clans was great and all, but the empty treasury was an undeniable reality.
Lately, he had even begun worrying whether he would start losing hair like a software engineer.
“Whatever, answer the message first.”
He sat back down, his expression reverting to aloof nobility, as if the person who had nearly jumped off his chair moments ago had been someone else entirely.