The Sal Terrae was drenched by heavy rain yesterday.
Under the azure sky where gentle breezes occasionally stirred the clouds, the summer day resembled a still painting. Dappled sunlight danced in the young man's eyes as he gazed toward the cerulean sea. Waves crashed against jagged rocks, shattering into countless crystalline droplets.
A translucent glass bottle reflected the shimmering sea light. Fine grains of sand clung to its rim as the youth buried it in the soil. His flaxen hair cascaded to pale ankles, his celadon eyes clear and gentle. Warm sunlight bathed his slender frame while his delicate fingertips tapped the bottle, producing crisp notes.
[Name: Unnamed]
[Element: Dendro]
[Talent: A Fleeting Moment (Archon-Level)]
[Your next destination: Sumeru]
The Human Principles System whispered:
[Your recklessness today will exact a price]
[What you've lost isn't merely lifespan - your remaining days shall be filled with agony]
"I know," the youth replied calmly. "However bitter the pain," his voice softened, "I'll bear it. Having chosen this path, I'll accept its consequences."
[Future you might curse present you - he may not consent]
"Nonsense. Future me remains me. Suffering is mine to endure."
After a pause, the youth stated solemnly:
"She's a benevolent god. Thus I must save her."
Pride tinged his words.
"Every version of me... would make this choice without regret. Through countless lives and names, only my essence persists. This inherited spirit defines my 'self' - what philosophy terms the 'Id'."
"If ever I lose this," the youth said, "then truly I shall perish."
[So foolish stubbornness constitutes your 'Id'?]
The System retorted.
"You're unusually combative today," the youth lamented sadly.
Sunlight shimmered in his celadon eyes, rendering his frail form increasingly translucent. He smiled faintly.
The salt grains in the bottle were Havria's remnants - or rather, the Salt Goddess' primordial form. Just as the Stove God emerged from flint sparks and Morax from stone, Havria originated from Teyvat's first salt crystal.
Though Havria perished, Archons defy true death, let alone being slain by mortals. Salt may revive - especially when not wholly extinguished. The residual authority released during her passing had been gathered by Bosacius and sealed within this vessel.
Dendro, the element of gentleness, had blessed this youth with Teyvat's kindest gift: [A Fleeting Moment]. This crystallized Bosacius's eight-century legacy of relinquishment - abandoning reason, lifespan, reputation, and existence to achieve desired outcomes.
"Havria," he whispered, "Can you hear me?"
"I am Bosacius."
Planting a seed beside the salt grains, it swiftly sprouted, emanating vital essence that made the salt glitter. Whether illusion or truth, the salt grew brighter.
"You hear but cannot answer," he chuckled. "Foolish Archon - your survival would astonish me. Now you're finally still."
[Your wisdom scarcely surpasses hers]
The System remarked unusually bitterly.
A cough wracked the youth's paling frame. "You heard my words earlier?"
"Thus... fret not." Tenderness softened his voice. "I'm unharmed, though I must depart. Grow well - this seed shall accompany you."
Salt grains rasped against glass as sea winds tousled his flaxen hair. "You loved your people. I'll care for them."
This wasn't empty promise. After Havria's death, Sal Terrae neared collapse. Assuming deicide's infamy, Bosacius had written to Morax detailing plans - securing refuge for salt folk, punishing rebels until blood pooled like seas.
Now he stood as utter sinner.
"Sardines and salt," he murmured. "This vow I may fail to keep."
"You once urged me: 'Persevere, though alone. Never yield.' Now I return these words."
"Havria, henceforth persist - though abandoned by beloved people, never surrender."
"Never capitulate to this world."
"For I yearn to meet you again."
As crimson sunset kissed the horizon, the youth straightened. His once-luminous eyes had dulled to ashen jade, entire being steeped in autumn's desolation.
"Friend, were we to reunite today, I'd prepare freshest sardines."
His form began dissipating, rationality and spirit fading. Purest malice coalesced in Bosacius's eyes, every fiber now demonic. Yet this demon whispered gently:
"Friend, were we to reunite today, I'd craft sardine feast with salt... and beg one last song from you."
These were Bosacius's final words.
Striding toward the distance, his elongated shadow resembled a crimson ark under scattered sunset - glorious as a general's march. He would return to Liyue, performing final exorcism before madness claimed him, ending all karma.
Then die like stray cat, far from home.
But salt cannot speak.
Though grains rasped against glass, they remained powerless. Those sounds were merely salt's whisperings.
——————
Years flowed like white steed's leap.
The salt couldn't speak, but the adjacent seed grew after a year - a small indigo-leaved plant sheltering the salt grains. Through scorching summers and torrential rains, the grass stood unwavering.
By the second year, coastal winds and sun strengthened the plant. Salt and grass clung together as Sal Terrae fell to ruin. Saltfolk abandoned flavorless crystals, seeking new deity - whom the salt blessed.
The third year saw salt regain savor and memories stirring, yet the grass darkened inexplicably.
Upon the fourth year, Havria remembered more - Bosacius's words, his sacrifice. Grief overwhelmed her silent form; she could only rustle mournful songs.
By the fifth year, the grass yellowed pathetically. Havria realized - she absorbed its vitality. This plant contained Bosacius's life essence. She wished to return it, but couldn't.
The sixth year:
"Persist even when alone."
Now Havria understood. Yet she refused to continue. Premonition warned - unless returning this life, Bosacius's incarnation would suffer eternally.
The seventh year:
Havria struggled to reform her authority, but each effort drained the grass further. Helpless, she couldn't cease the process.
The eighth year:
The withered grass hung dust-coated, one leaf already dead.
The twelfth year:
"Fool! Stop this!" Salt grains battered glass fruitlessly.
This was her fault - submission, weakness, getting slain by her people. Why did an idiot refuse to abandon her?
The fourteenth year:
Regret took root. She could've resisted, protected her people and Bosacius. Cowardice made her embrace death when devotion crumbled. She failed her own creed while Bosacius fulfilled all vows despite universal scorn.
The twenty-first spring's end:
The grass died before summer's arrival, expiring by tidal murmurs. Sea became its tombstone. No plant remained to shield salt from sun or snow.
Havria watched helplessly as the grass decomposed into soil. Wanderer died upon beloved land - mirroring Bosacius's existence. Liyue thrived upon his corpse.
Salt could only wait.
Wait for spring of sardines and salt.
——————
Seino Yaku exhaled slowly, clutching salt jar and measure containing fragments of Salt God's authority. Gazing at undulating azure seas, an inexplicable urge arose.
He wanted to catch fish.
Sardines preferably.