In the Interstice of Paths, beneath the Tree of Existence.
The handsome man watched as Ye Cang was sent away from this realm.
Slowly retracting his gaze, he looked toward the three Aeons fading beside him and murmured, “The work of re-creation is finished.
It is time I set out as well.” “The source of the Dread Calamity does not lie here.
It exists in the past, and it exists in the future, but it does not exist in the present.” The Aeon of Remembrance spoke in a deep voice, His tone carrying an invisible majesty.
“Terminus has gone mad.
You and [Cang] are the only two ‘High-Dimensional Observers’ capable of traversing time and space.
The influence of the Dread Calamity is not irreversible for you.” “The two of you—one heading from the present toward the future, the other tracing back from here into the past—when all fates converge on a single day, the way to redeem this universe may lie within.” Aha, the Aeon of Elation, toyed with the mask in His hands, studying the two with keen interest.
He smiled and said, “So, our time is drawing near as well, isn’t it?” Mr.
Yue nodded.
Though his expression remained calm, regret and weariness flickered in his eyes.
“The corruption of an Aeon is irreversible.
Everyone gathered here is merely a product of my [Phantasm]—a backup of your consciousnesses before the world was rebooted.” “Sustaining so many ‘Phantasm Aeons’—even if their strength pales compared to your true forms—takes an immense toll on me.” Xipe, the Aeon of Harmony, kept Her eyes lightly closed, Her three faces filled with benevolence and serenity.
“Meaning, in the real world, all of us have already been corrupted by the Dread Calamity?” Fuli shook His head.
“It goes beyond that.
Aeons are the masters of Paths, and the corruption of an Aeon will naturally corrupt the entire Path alongside them.
Those most affected will likely be your Emanators.” “An age of calamity and darkness is about to descend.” “I hope that before all becomes beyond saving, we can find that sole ray of hope.” Mr.
Yue looked into the distance.
Suddenly clenching his fists, he could no longer maintain his refined, easygoing demeanor and exploded into furious curses: “Fuck’s sake!
I just came to this world on vacation with my wife and kid, eating hotpot and singing songs, when out of nowhere this fucking Dread Calamity slaps me right in the face!
Where the hell am I supposed to get justice for this?” “And you lot?
The world gets rebooted, and you all just kick the bucket without a second thought!
Expecting me and Ye Cang, two outsiders, to save the damn world…
could you show a shred of shame, please?!” “Now look at me!
I’m the mighty Heavenly Principles of Teyvat, riddled with calamity corruption, unable to go home, and forced to wipe your asses…” As he ranted on, he suddenly froze on the spot.
He turned his head to look around—all the Aeons had vanished.
The entire Interstice of Paths was now starkly empty, leaving him utterly alone.
The power of phantasm sustaining the Aeons’ backups was exhausted.
Without faith to replenish it, relying solely on his own natural recovery meant it would take a long time before he could summon these “Phantasm Aeons” again.
“Whatever.
Time to move out.
But before that…
seeing as we’re fellow outsiders, I’ll send you one last little gift.” With that thought, he willed space to tear open.
Stepping through, his divine form traversed the Interstice of Paths and entered the universe corrupted by the Dread Calamity.
A train smeared with flesh and blood sped through the sea of stars, hurtling toward a silent, dead space station.
The God of Phantasm tucked his hands into his sleeves, looking down at the dramatic scene repeating itself inside the carriage.
As if sensing his presence, the Lord of Elation—currently embodied as March 7th—looked up to meet his gaze, the corners of Her lips curving into a mocking smirk.
In the next second, the entire universe seemed to flip upside down, and the positions of the two Aeons abruptly swapped.
Seeing the “March 7th” before him instantly transform into an exquisitely beautiful “black-haired woman,” Ye Cang froze in place, nearly forgetting the pain wracking his body from the calamity’s erosion.
“Beauty, who are…” The “black-haired woman” gave a faint smile and reached out to pat Ye Cang’s shoulder.
“First, I’m a guy.
Second, well done, fellow traveler.” Hearing “fellow traveler,” Ye Cang’s eyes widened in shock.
“Are you a transmigrator too…” “Something like that, though my situation is a bit unique.” The man withdrew his hand and pointed to his own chest.
“I can never go back, but you’re different from me.
Once the dust settles, you’ll still have the right to make your own choice.” Ye Cang’s pupils contracted as he sharply picked up on the subtext.
“What do you mean you can’t go back?
What does having the right to make a choice mean?
Was my transmigration your doing?” “Yes, and no.” The man smiled and looked up at the ceiling of the train carriage, his expression complex.
“I merely put forward the proposal.
The one that chose you…
was this slowly collapsing world.” “The world chose me?” Ye Cang repeated the words, lost in thought.
The man nodded, pulling back his gaze to look deeply into Ye Cang’s face.
Shifting the topic, he said, “Still, your transmigration is ultimately tied to me.
As compensation, I’ll grant you a portion of my authority…
consider it a little meeting gift.” Saying this, he raised a slender, jade-like finger and lightly tapped Ye Cang’s forehead between the eyebrows.
Ye Cang felt an instinctive resistance and tried to turn away, but his body seemed out of his control.
He could only stare blankly as that fair finger—scarcely looking like a man’s—touched down softly against his brow.
In the next moment, a string of text abruptly appeared in Ye Cang’s mind: [Phantasm · Right Hand of Remembrance] Description: Target a character to replicate a skill they have used in your presence using the power of Phantasm and Remembrance.
The power and effect of the skill depend on the user’s current status rank.
Replicated skills will be stored in the thumb, index finger, middle finger, ring finger, and pinky of the right hand, respectively.
Current maximum capacity: 5.
Belongs to: Solomon Phanes (Aeon of Phantasm).
…
Ye Cang stared blankly at the insanely handsome young man before him.
The description of [Phantasm · Right Hand of Remembrance] replayed in his head, a sharp glint flickering in his eyes.
“Your name is…
Solomon?
Is it the King Solomon I’m thinking of?” “Indeed.
*King Solomon and the Seventy-Two Demons*—have you read it too?
Though rather than ‘Solomon,’ I’d prefer you call me Mr.
Yue.” “Why the right hand?” “Because it’s my dominant hand.” “Could you demonstrate it?” “No problem.” As an Aeon, Mr.
Yue was surprisingly straightforward, far beyond Ye Cang’s expectations.
He extended his right hand toward the heavily mutated, barely human Welt Yang sitting dazed in a chair nearby and made a clawing motion from afar.
“Mr.
Yang and I are old acquaintances.
Replicating his skills isn’t a first for me.” Having said that, Mr.
Yue used his free left hand to push up his glasses, speaking solemnly: “Have you ever seen a star shatter?” As the words fell, a deep purple black hole materialized out of nowhere in his palm before being swiftly snuffed out.
“…” Ye Cang stared at the identical pair of glasses that had suddenly appeared on Mr.
Yue’s face, asking in surprise, “Where’d you get those glasses?” Mr.
Yue glanced sideways, a glint of silver flashing across his lenses.
“Mind your own business when it comes to Aeons.” Clearing his throat, he straightened his tone.
“Phantasm · Right Hand—got it now?” “Oh.” Ye Cang raised his right hand and made a grabbing motion toward Mr.
Yue.
“Like this?” Using the Phantasm · Right Hand to replicate the Phantasm · Right Hand.
*Ding—* With a soft chime, another line of text appeared in Ye Cang’s mind: [Phantasm · Left Hand of Remembrance (Replicated)] Description: Target a character to replicate a skill they have used in your presence using the power of Phantasm.
The power and effect of the skill depend on the user’s current status rank.
Replicated skills will be stored in the thumb, index finger, middle finger, ring finger, and pinky of the right hand, respectively.
Current maximum capacity: 5.
Belongs to: Solomon Phanes (Aeon of Phantasm).
Correspondingly, the maximum capacity of the original [Phantasm · Right Hand of Remembrance] became “4”.
Mr.
Yue: “…” “Looks like that works.” Ye Cang looked at his right hand.
Following the successful replication of the Phantasm · Right Hand, a unique gilded gold pattern had appeared on the back of his thumb, resembling a vortex where tentacles converged.
This mark was presumably what represented the replicated [Phantasm · Right Hand].
“I suddenly have a bold idea!” With eyes glinting, Ye Cang used [Phantasm · Left Hand of Remembrance] to make another clawing gesture at the white-clothed man before him, trying to recursively nest-copy the skill.
However, the expected prompt did not sound; this replication attempt ended in failure.
“Put away your bold idea.
You think you’re nesting Russian dolls here?” Mr.
Yue glared at Ye Cang’s hand frozen in midair.
Lowering his voice slightly, he said earnestly, “The Right Hand of Phantasm is a minor skill I developed after referencing old man Fuli’s abilities.
Its activation to some degree depends on ‘witnessing memories,’ ‘recreating memories,’ and ‘bearing memories.'” “When activating the skill, each of your fingers acts like a Light Cone, capable of recording and archiving the Path abilities you witness…” “But you only have ten damn fingers!
Letting you replicate a left hand is already the bloody limit, and you want to endlessly loop it?!” Ye Cang was taken aback, temporarily intimidated by Mr.
Yue’s imposing aura.
He spoke up weakly, “Umm…
would toes work?” Mr.
Yue: “…” The mental image of this young hothead stripping off his shoes and socks in the middle of a battle to unleash a “Phantasm · Foot of Remembrance” suddenly struck him as absurd beyond belief.
Was this guy really the “key” to turning the tide that he had calculated in his deductions?
If before meeting him in person, Mr.
Yue had been ninety or even a hundred percent confident in his deductions, now he was beginning to feel uncertain.
The two fell silent for a long moment.
The man was the first to break the dead silence in the carriage.
Turning around with his hands folded behind his back, he looked out at the starry sky beyond the window.
“Ye Cang…
if you were given a chance to save this world, but the cost was enduring endless death, pain, and madness, would you still be willing to become an unsung hero?”