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Chapter Text

Chapter 25

Part XL. Secrets of the Abyss

Ajax is floating on cloud nine for the next couple of days. It isn’t because his days have not drastically changed after his confession. His schedule remains light with lazy mornings spent having breakfast with Zhongli, a few hours afterwards spent on chores (or on getting updates from his subordinates), then lunch (with Zhongli again), training, and finally, dinner and music sessions (with more Zhongli). It’s more the fact that without the constant stress of wondering whether he should confess or not, Ajax finds himself able to enjoy his day-to-day with his almost-boyfriend, his future bae, his pseudo partner.

He needs to workshop those titles a little bit more, but the point is, he’s having a lovely time with Zhongli despite their almost-but-not-yet-relationship.

Zhongli is clearly on the same wave length as him because snuggly is the best way to describe how Zhongli has gotten. Although the man has not crossed any boundaries of impropriety (Zhongli’s words, not Ajax’s), Zhongli has still upped his affection by a lot. Mornings are now accompanied by warm hugs and sweet nuzzles to the cheek. Before leaving home, Zhongli would draw Ajax’s hands in his and press kisses against the knuckles and the ring. Lunches and dinners are slightly more reserved; they involve more hand-holding and more of Zhongli sitting close until he’s pressed up against Ajax while plying him with more food.

The music sessions, though… those are Ajax’s favourites because Zhongli has taken liberties to practically drape himself over the younger man with his head on the other’s lap, almost dozing off to the sound of Ajax’s playing as happy rumbles reverberate from his chest.

Like a pampered king, perfectly content in his lover’s lap, and Ajax supposes that that’s…sorta what they are, aren’t they? Minus the sex. And the make-out sesh.

Because despite all of that, Zhongli wouldn’t kiss Ajax on the mouth or do naughty hand things. Rules of impropriety and all.

…

Fuck those rules of impropriety! Ajax is a young man with needs, even if it’s very, very nice to have Zhongli lying luxuriously on his lap like that! Ajax did not die a sad, lonely nerd that lived a good chunk of his life being terminally online (and horny for Zhongli) only to be cockblocked by Zhongli’s sensibilities of all things!

“Have you been having more dreams?” Zhongli asks, interrupting Ajax’s internal rant. Ajax just finished playing his evening song and they’re just chilling on the seat with Zhongli’s head on his lap, purring as Ajax runs his fingers through his hair.

“Hm?” Ajax pauses in his petting. “What dream?”

Zhongli shifts around and gives him a look that screams of exasperation mixed with undeniable fondness. “About the Abyss, my dear heart. I suppose I should be relieved by your answer but I also know your tendency to ignore things that would cause you physical harm. I remember what you said about your incidents that resulted in stitches.”

“Again, that only happened, like, twice.” At Zhongli’s expectant look, he rolls his eyes. “I’ve been having dreams,” he confesses, “but they haven’t caused any lingering problems. They’ve just been, uh…”

They’ve been illuminating on OG Tartaglia’s determination to grow stronger to return home to his family, but from that steely determination comes the first inklings of conceit especially as monster after monster fell to his hydro blades.

The poisonous effect of the Abyss has begun to affect the boy.

“Childe?”

“Frustrating,” Ajax finishes with a shake of his head. “Sad.”

It’s not that Ajax hasn’t predicted this to happen. These are events that have long since passed and it’s much too late for Ajax to do anything. The scared, wide-eyed boy died a long time ago. Hell, OG Tartaglia had been dead for over a year now with none the wiser.

Still, to see that transformation happen in front of him just hits different.

Arms wrap around his shoulders and he’s pulled into a comforting hug. Ajax takes the opportunity to tuck his head against the crook of Zhongli’s neck, letting his body go lax against the other’s.

“It must have been so hard,” he hears Zhongli say, voice gruff with emotion. “You were a child and you had been lost in there for goodness knows how long. No wonder you didn’t remember the experience clearly.”

Ajax makes a vague little sound of acknowledgement. “At least I learned how to fight and use my Vision. I wouldn’t be here today without those skills.”

Those arms tighten their hold on him. “One of the few positives to have come out of that experience. Still, I am glad that you are here with me, even though I worry.”

It takes some coaxing before Zhongli is willing to let go, and more coaxing to convince Zhongli that he’s okay sleeping by himself that night.

Even if, as he’s laying there in bed, Zhongli’s words continue to swirl around his head:

I am glad that you are here with me, even though I—

“—Worry at all, boy?”

The boy looks up from the net he’s mending. “Sorry, Skirk, what was that?”

Seated across from low fire inside of their safe, cozy little cave, his master stops her whittling project to look at him like he’s the most bizarre creature in the Abyss, which is saying something considering how yesterday, they came across a creature with an impossible number of tentacles and eyes.

“I said, it’s funny how you don’t seem to worry at all.” At the boy’s confused silence, she adds, “Just a couple of weeks ago, you were a snivelling, shivering brat who barely knew how to handle a blade and now look at you. You’re charging at the beasts with no fear and no worries. The power of a Vision really is something.”

“I’m getting better,” the boy says with a grin. “And stronger. I can feel it with every battle. Soon, I will be strong enough to go home!”

“Hm. It might take some time yet, even with how impressive you’ve grown.” Skirk tucks away the piece of wood she’s whittling in her pocket to grab a nearby stick, poking at the fire and sending a small shower of ember up into the air. “Although there are numerous cracks and tunnels in the Abyss that can lead you out,” she mutters, “they attract the most dangerous creatures like moth to an open flame. You would be fighting a throng of them to get through. That means you’re going to need to get a lot stronger to take those on.”

“I will,” the boy says. “I’ll beat them all no matter what it takes.”

Skirk snorts. “No matter what it takes, huh? Let’s see how you do with the beasts we’re hunting tomorrow before you start bragging.”

The boy keeps to his promise, though. Every monster and beast the duo comes across is swiftly put down by the boy’s hydro blades under the watchful eyes of the mentor. With every battle, the boy’s fighting prowess grows in leaps and bounds, so much so that the boy is diversifying the weapons he uses so as to truly become a master in combat. In no time, the boy switches from using daggers to short swords to a longsword, a broadsword, a staff, a club, a pike…the types of weapons he molds with his hydro power are only limited by his imagination.

To match his growing ambition, his mentor increases their training sessions to up his strength, his stamina, and his agility as he perfects one weapon after another.

But along with the boy’s burgeoning talent in battle comes the growth of his pride, his need to prove himself, and his craving for the sweet rush of adrenaline for defeating a strong opponent. Every night as he goes to sleep in his bed of fur, he would think of that battle with the beast that had almost claimed his life, the one that had forced him to master his Vision. He would play that battle back in his head and through his memory, he would experience the feeling of victory over and over again.

It is a heady sensation, one that makes his heart pound and his blood sing. It makes him feel alive and bright that nothing else can, certainly not in this dark world surrounded by death.

It is utterly, utterly addictive, and it only grows stronger, hungrier with each passing day.

“Skirk, I think I’m ready to try that tunnel by the big tree up in the north,” the boy asks one day.

“No, you are not,” Skirk answers without looking up from her whittling project. From the boy’s vantage point, it looks like she’s trying to make a dog, or maybe a cat? “That tunnel is guarded by at least five of those giant horned beasts. You’re going to get eaten alive before you get close to the exit.”

“No I won’t! I take out those monsters all the time!”

“Yes, on a one-to-one fight. You’ve never went up against a group of them.”

“All the more reason for me to test my skills!”

Skirk finally puts away her whittling block to level him a look. “Kid. I know you’re getting antsy to go home and the way you’ve been winning all these fights cannot be helping your patience. It must be disappointing that all the tunnels and cracks we’ve come across aren’t the right doors to your home. But trust me when I say that you aren’t ready yet.”

The boy scowls. “How long do I have to keep waiting though?”

“When I say you’re ready.”

The conversation dies and they go to bed, but the boy continues to lie awake in his fur for a very long time, sulking.

It’s to the sound of the boy’s disgruntled mumblings that Ajax hears as he resurfaces to the world of consciousness.

It’s early morning still. The room is dark and quiet except for the soft rustling of his sheets as he rolls to his back.

“Hey, AR?” he calls out softly to the empty room, “you got all of that, right?”

There’s the sound of a soft ping. “I did. It appears Character Tartaglia is getting impatient. This will not end well.”

Ajax pulls himself up so that he’s sitting. “Is that from your sense of déjà vu that’s kicking in? Wait, stupid question. It’s obvious he’s going to do something stupid. The Abyss is starting to get to him already.”

“Something tells me that he’s going to do something stupid based on the familiar feeling I’ve had, but you’re also correct in saying that this is an obvious conclusion to make,” AR answers. “Character Tartaglia’s sense of recklessness is no doubt compounded by the sudden rush of confidence he’s feeling from no longer being so helpless. To go from being weak to strong in such a short period of time can inflate anybody’s ego, let alone someone as young as he was.”

“And the Abyss likes to feed on everything that’s negative about you while amplifying it,” Ajax says with a wince. “This is bad.”

But there’s nothing to be done at this point, and it’s much too early to be reminded of the way OG Tartaglia’s fate is set in stone. So, Ajax switch gears to focus on something else.

“Are you able to find out more about Skirk? I know you filed a bunch of reports to complain about your lack of access to some of the world’s info.”

AR makes a scoffing sound. “Unfortunately, the situation has not changed. My access to Characters Skirk’s and Tartaglia’s information remain strangely restricted. I have heard nothing from the reports and forms I have sent. I have filed multiple meeting requests with the Administrators to get to the bottom of this, but again, I have not received any response. It’s as if I am shouting into the void.”

AR makes a soft sound of pure frustration and Ajax feels for him. AR’s been nothing but an excellent worker. Very by the books (for the most part. Ajax remembers the way he had fudged shop prices that one time to give him the Scribe Ability). And now, his adherence to the rules is going to get him ignored—

“It appears I will have to resort to a more unorthodox solution.”

That wipes away whatever sleepiness lingering in Ajax’s body.

“Unorthodox solution? What do you mean? How unorthodox?”

“I have been thinking about how to get the Administrators’ attention and it’s clear to me that doing things by adhering to the rules are not getting me results. So, perhaps, I will need to…break the rules slightly. Enough to get their attention.”

“You won’t be punished for this, will you?” Though what sort of punishment AR can be subjected to remains a mystery, which is unnerving in and of itself. “There’s a saying in my old world: ‘fuck around and find out’. I feel like we’re toeing the line of ‘fucking around’ here and I really, really would rather not hit the ‘find out’ stage.”

He’d rather not test the Administrators’ creepy omnipotent power.

“I don’t think we would get there, not if what I do is minor.”

“What are you planning to do then?”

“From now on, I will…um…stop filing my questionnaires. In protest!”

That seems harmless enough, Ajax supposes, even if he doesn’t know what those questionnaires are. He nods. “Okay, I approve. But promise to stop the moment you receive a sign that the Administrators are paying attention, okay?”

“Noted. I’ll be careful.”

Now that he’s wide awake with no chances of falling back asleep, Ajax climbs out of bed, changes into his lounge wear, and heads for the bathroom to get himself cleaned. Might as well get the day started with some work, chores, and breakfast.

By the time the sun has fully risen and Zhongli makes his appearance at the kitchen, Ajax has finished what he needs to do for the day, leaving only the breakfast he’s in the middle of making as his one remaining task. With a deft flick of his wrist, he flips the scallion pancake in the pan, letting it sizzle quietly.

“Good morning, dearest boy,” Zhongli says as he wraps his arms around Ajax’s waist from behind and presses a loving kiss on his cheek. He ignores the flush on Ajax’s face in favour of peering down at the pan and at the pot of bubbling congee on the stove. “Hm, smells delicious. You’ve been busy.”

“I woke up early.” At the way those arms around him tense up, Ajax adds quickly, “Nothing to worry about, Zhongli. Just feeling a bit restless is all. Must be all the sleep that I’ve been getting.”

“Seven to eight hours of sleep is optimal for peak health,” Zhongli grumbles with a nuzzle to his neck. They’ve had this conversation many times at this point. Like clockwork, Zhongli follows up with, “Did you have any more dreams last night? Are you feeling alright?”

Ajax turns off the oven and lets the pancake finish in the pan. “I did. Just more dreams of OG – of me trying to find my way out of the Abyss. I was, um, getting a bit too eager to fight my way out to freedom. I think learning how to use the Vision was getting to my head a little.”

Zhongli’s grip doesn’t let up. Poor Zhongli. He’s been worried sick that Ajax is getting retraumatized by these dreams. Without telling him the truth that none of these events actually happened to him, all Ajax can do is to keep placating the man.

“I’m feeling alright though. Experiencing these dreams feel like I’m watching a play. It doesn’t feel like it’s me. I think not remembering is a huge blessing.”

“Hm, indeed.” Another kiss, this time pressed against his temple. Ajax is going to combust from all these little loving gestures. “Well, if those dreams do make you feel uncomfortable in any way, or if you feel off...”

“I know, I know, I will let you know as soon as possible. Now, let’s eat before the food gets cold.”

After breakfast, Ajax sends Zhongli off to work (with a shy peck of his own that has Zhongli looking all soft and tender while earning him a generous 15 L points). With nothing else to do, he resigns himself to spend the rest of his morning on good ol’ training in the garden. He manages to get a solid hour in before he’s interrupted by the sound of door knocking.

“Coming!” he shouts as he jogs towards the front door. He unlocks it and yanks it open. “Oh, hey, Hu Tao! What’s up?”

“Just checking to see how the plan is going on your end,” she says as he ushers her inside before closing the door. “Last I saw you, you were terrified about the whole telling Zhongli thing so I thought I’d drop by to see if there’s anything I can do to help. Although,” she tilts her head and squints up at him. “You look awfully calm and well-rested. What gives?”

Ajax grins. “I confessed! I decided, fuck it, I’m going to go and tell him about my feelings and just went for it!”

“Shit kid,” Hu Tao says, a bright smile spreading across her face. “I didn’t think you had it in you! Congrats, well done! No wonder that old man is looking so ecstatic these past few days! He smiles at me every time I run into him rather than looking constipated!”

“Zhongli’s been smiling a lot?” Shit, that’s fucking adorable. He wishes he could see.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so happy,” Hu Tao says. They head towards the kitchen table where he hands her a plate of snacks and a mug of tea. “So, what’s it like dating the old dragon anyway? Aside from being fantastic, that is. C’mon, share some hot gossip for your old auntie! I want to know the deets!”

Ajax rubs the back of his neck and winces. “So, I’m not really, really dating Zhongli. I told him I liked him and gave him presents and everything, and he told me that he can’t say yes immediately because he has something important to tell me first. He wants to see whether my offer still stands after we’ve talked.”

Hu Tao gives him a knowing look. “The Main Mission?”

Ajax nods. “The Main Mission. But the important thing is he didn’t say no. In fact, he got me this!”

Ajax sticks out his right hand and shows off the ring on his finger. The metal sparkles in the brightly lit kitchen. “Neat, huh? I wonder what metal it’s – holy shit, Hu Tao, are you okay?”

Hu Tao is most definitely not okay. She’s busy hacking up a lung, choking from her tea. Her face is turning an alarming shade of red as she’s desperately trying to thump her own chest to no avail.

“Shit!” Ajax rushes over and gives her back a few good whacks for good measure. Finally, with a few forceful, painful sounding coughs, she gasps out and manages to suck in lungfuls of air.

“Dude, stay seated,” Ajax cries. “I’m going to get you something to munch on—”

“I’m fine, kid!” Hu Tao rasps out, coughing. When she’s taken a few more steady breaths, she glares at him through teary eyes. “Holy fuck, you can’t just drop something like this suddenly! Have some mercy on this old lady!”

Hu Tao’s annoyance seems rather disproportionate to the situation, and Ajax scowls, crossing his arms. “Drop what? I just told you that I asked Zhongli out! Why are you so mad?”

Hu Tao gives him a look. “Kid, you cannot show me that and say that you…” Something on his face must be giving away his confusion because her annoyance melts away. “Holy shit. You don’t know. How can you not – kid, when you said you asked that old dragon out, what exactly did you say?”

Ajax hunches in on himself some more. “I dunno, I was nervous, I said a bunch of stuff! I said that I liked him and that I want to spend more time with him and that he made me happy! And then I gave him stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Uh, lots of shiny golden stuff? Things that represent good fortune. Chopsticks and bangles and stuff. It’s got lots of dragons and phoenixes and, Zhongli really, really liked everything?” Great, why is Hu Tao looking at him like that all shocked her? “Did I do something wrong? Did I say something bad?”

Ajax doesn’t quite know what to make of the bark of laughter that escapes her. “What? No, you little idiot! You didn’t do anything wrong! The opposite, in fact! You managed to win the jack pot of all jack pots! You managed to – ah, what the hell! Prohibited action? How is this a spoiler?”

She waves her hands in the air as if batting a swarm of invisible flies. “Okay, okay! I won’t say it! Will you fuck off with the alarm already?”

“So, I didn’t do anything wrong?” Ajax asks again. When Hu Tao doesn’t answer him (because she’s too busy yelling at her System), he turns to AR. “AR? What does the phoenix and the dragon mean?”

“They are symbols of auspiciousness and are traditional symbols that appear on ceremonial jade ornaments, carvings, and paintings. Together, they are also a powerful symbol of love, harmony, and togetherness.”

Huh. Even AR sounds a little strained. Ajax’s supposes that it makes sense considering the implication of what he did finally hits him.

“Oh.” Ajax says, blushing. “I – I guess I was a bit heavy-handed with all the gifts featuring the dragon and the phoenix, huh? The gifts must have had the equivalent effect of like screaming in Zhongli’s face that I like him a million times or something.” He brightens up and adds, “But when I offered to take the gifts back to avoid any awkwardness, Zhongli had refused and clutched onto those gifts. So, clearly he doesn’t mind, even if I was a bit cheesy!”

A soft chime fills the air. “Ajax, you have also received 2000 L Points for your gesture, so you need not worry about doing anything wrong. The numbers do not lie.”

Ajax nods. “Yeah, that’s true.” But that reminds him, “Hey, Hu Tao? Do you mind keeping this whole shindig on the down low?”

Hu Tao pauses, mid-swat. “You mean your relationship with Zhongli? Why?”

“Because it’s not really a thing yet. More like a promise of a thing.” Ajax shrugs. “I’d rather celebrate when I know for sure that it’s a thing, you know?”

“You’re an idiot,” Hu Tao says, bluntly, which is both hurtful and uncalled for. “I look forward to the day when my stupid System stops freaking out – okay! Stop it with the alarms!” She flips the bird towards the empty space beside her and turns back towards Ajax. “Fine, I will keep things quiet but maybe if you don’t want people to ask you tons of questions, you should hide the ring.”

Ajax looks at his ring. “I guess I shouldn’t be wearing it out in the open, huh? Maybe I can wear it as a necklace instead. I’ve been meaning to do that ‘cause I was afraid I might accidentally lose it.”

“Get Zhongli to make you the chain for the necklace. He’ll be more than happy to help.”

The conversation shifts towards the dreams that Ajax has been having of OG Tartaglia in the Abyss and their ongoing struggles with the Administrators.

“I haven’t experienced any side-effects thanks to the increased offerings and prayers so at least there’s that,” Ajax says. “AR is also seeing the dreams I’ve been having, without experiencing any glitches. It’s just giving him a sense of familiarity.”

Hu Tao nods. “That’s good, though I still find it so weird that AR doesn’t have access to all the information about OG Tartaglia and Skirk. What’s the point of locking that information when there’s an ongoing side-quest called Traces of Tartaglia? Isn’t the whole point of that side-quest to find more information about OG Tartaglia and his time in the Abyss? Wouldn’t it make sense that the System that’s meant to be guiding you through those quests be given the full set of tools to do just that?”

“Yeah, that’s what AR said as well. He’s been trying to get this sorted for a while now but no luck.”

To the point where they have to stage their little rebellion but Ajax is not going to say that out loud with Hu Tao’s System listening in.

“Maybe it’s a weird glitch in the Matrix,” he continues. “Whatever it is, I know nothing about Skirk aside from just a blurb of her bio.”

“Is that the only information that’s locked?”

There’s a light chiming sound in Ajax’s ear. “I also do not have full access to one of your skills – Foul Legacy Transformation.”

“Wait really? I thought that information is quest-locked on my end only.”

“It is locked for me too. The only information I currently have on the ability is the following description: ‘A mysterious power granted to Tartaglia that is abyssal in nature. It is a power from which Tartaglia can draw on to gain a large boost in temporary strength but at a great cost later on…’”

Ajax relays the information to Hu Tao.

“Weird,” she says. She gets up from her seat and begins to pace in front of the kitchen table. “Is it just me or does the Administrators seem oddly…controlled about releasing information about the Abyss to you and AR? I mean, on one hand, it’s letting you guys find out more information about the Abyss… encourages it, in fact, through that Traces of Tartaglia side-quest, but on the other hand, it’s letting the information out slowly, one drop at a time.”

She stops and her eyes light up as if a lightbulb has turned on in her head. “Boyo, you know what this feels like? This feels like a test for you and AR.”

Unlike Hu Tao, Ajax does not feel excited by this declaration. Dread rises in his stomach and he grimaces. “A test? What kind of test?”

Hu Tao shakes her head. “Dunno. I mean, for you, this whole transmigration experience is one big test to live in this world and complete your missions. Unlocking the Abyss knowledge is probably part of your mission to submerge yourself in this world and learn more about it. For AR, however, it seems to me like it’s a test to see how well he can handle the information.”

Ajax doesn’t like where this is going. “If what you’re saying is true, then this implies that the Abyss information is so dangerous that it can affect AR. Why else would they lock the information?”

“There’s more to it,” AR says, “if what Miss Hu Tao says is true about how I am being tested, then it also means the Administrators have been watching this whole time.”

They don’t get any more answers, and Hu Tao leaves shortly after with a promise to touch base once she has more theories. The rest of the day is spent peacefully with more quality time with Zhongli, though no matter how nice it is to have his not-boyfriend beside him, it doesn’t distract Ajax from the fresh worries brewing in his mind.

(He does have the good sense to distract Zhongli by asking him to make a necklace for the ring. As Hu Tao predicted, Zhongli lights up with excitement and begins planning the style and make of the chain to suit Ajax and the rings. It’s all very adorable and Ajax’s heart has never felt so full.)

He makes sure to carve out some time to talk to AR as he prepares for bed that night.

“So if the Administrators are watching, does that mean you can stop your plan to try to get their attention?”

The familiar soft chime sounds out. “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” AR admits. “I’ve come to the conclusion that until we know for certain that this is indeed a test, it is best if I continue with my current plan to get the Administrators’ attention.”

“Hopefully, they’ll just respond and put us out of our misery.”

Ajax settles under his covers, thinking on his day, the plan, and all that’s at stake. It seems that whenever he’s got one thing handled, two more problems come cropping up. The Traveller is due back from her glaze lily adventure any day now, Ajax’s is just afraid that he’s rapidly running out of—

“—time training when I can be out there, taking on more challenges!”

The boy wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand as he dispels his hydro polearm. “Look how much stronger I am now! I just took out those three of those without any help! I’m strong enough to try that northern tunnel!”

He gestures to the large creatures with a row of sharp, jagged spikes lining their backs lay on the dark sand, unmoving. Their bodies are covered in cuts from which rivers of black, sticking blood run.

Skirk stalks over and flicks the boy on the forehead, making the boy rub his forehead with a pained yelp. “And yet in our last sparring session, I was able to wipe the floor with you in less than five minutes, using only one hand.”

“Yeah, well that’s because you’re just freakishly strong, Skirk!”

Skirk’s lips twitch. “Freakishly strong?” She reaches down and pinch the boy’s cheeks, ignoring his squawks of indignation. “You say the sweetest things, boy. But you’re still not ready for the northern tunnel, so keep training.”

They make quick work, skinning the carcasses and salvaging any edible and usable parts before burying the remains to avoid attracting more unsavoury creatures in that area. What had seemed like grizzly, daunting work a month ago is now simple muscle memory for the boy after having done this countless times with Skirk.

The boy has changed. He’s grown up and gotten more tough. He can see it in the way his nerves remain steady before foes that are thrice as big as he is, and the way he battles with confidence and skill. And he keeps winning, too, though some battles are closer calls than others.

Those moments, the boy is starting to discover, are his favourites. Not knowing whether he would come out of the battle alive allows him to throw everything in the battle. It gets his blood pumping, his adrenaline rushing, and when he manages to wrench his victory from the clutches of his enemies’ collective hand, it makes the experience all the more sweet.

If only Skirk lets the boy have more of those moments. If only Skirk sees the boy for his strength rather than keeping him shackled with more training.

Well, if Skirk is not willing to budge, then it’s up to the boy to prove to her just how strong he has gotten.

They fill their bellies with grilled monster meat that evening. The taste and texture of it remind the boy of tough leather with a hint of rot, but the boy does not care. Every precious morsel is needed to fuel his strength. Besides, dinner time gives him the opportunity to plot.

It’ll only take three hours to travel to the northern tunnel. If he leaves after Skirk falls asleep, he’ll be able to make it, destroy the monsters, and drag the bodies back home before the day begins. And then, with the corpses laid in a row before his Master, she’ll find it hard to deny him of more dangerous excursions.

He lays in wait that night for Skirk’s breathing to deepen from across the room. Slowly, he peels back his covers and waits to see if he can sense any movement.

Nothing. Good.

Quietly, carefully, he crawls out of his fur pallet, grabbing his pack and his dagger as he tiptoes his way out of the cave. He nudges the door open and holds his breath at the soft creak it lets out. When he doesn’t hear any other sound except that same, even breathing, he slips out through the crack and shuts the door behind him.

It takes him a few minutes for his eyesight to adjust to the dark, and he takes his time walking northbound away from his home until he can make out his surroundings. When he’s sure he’s far enough away so that his footsteps cannot be heard, he makes a run for it.

Travelling through the night time presents its unique challenges; whatever dim daylight that usually manages to bleed from the surface are completely stifled, leaving the land as dark as an inky void. The monsters seem more active as well, often skulking in the shadows of trees and thick bushes in the nearby forest, lurking, waiting for an unexpected prey to cross their path. But the boy is no such prey. With quick slashes of his hydro blades, the monsters fall to the side, bodies twitching as they bleed from their cut throats. The rest scamper away in fear.

The boy dispels his blades with a flick of his wrist. Heh. Too easy.

He continues on, only stopping to dispatch a monster or for a quick water break. In a few hours’ time, he manages to find his way before a large tree with great, twisting branches spanning upwards, its thick canopy of blue leaves disappearing into the darkness of his surroundings.

He’s found the tree. Perfect. The entrance to the tunnel should be nearby – there! He can just make out the entrance to the cave.

The boy strolls towards with confidence though keeping his footsteps light. He follows the winding tunnel deeper and deeper inside the mountain and as he does; the air grows humid and cold. The once eerie silence that had filled his surroundings is also interrupted by soft drip drip sound of water droplets falling from the cave’s ceiling to the land in the pools on the ground. Eventually, new sounds join in – scratching, grunts and snorts of animals nearby, ones that grow louder with every step forward.

The twists and turns of the tunnel eventually stop and the space opens up to a large cavern with the floor partially flooded with dark, murky water. The boy ducks behind a nearby rock jutting from the ground and scans the space.

Hm, he can make out the five monsters Skirk had warned him about. They’re large beasts, standing seven feet tall on their hindlegs with a row of spines running along their backs from head to their long, thick tails. They possess sharp, black claws curving from their hands, ones that can easily cut through trees. They’re also covered from head to toe in thick scales that are near impenetrable to sword blows (the boy should know. He was never successful in piercing those tough scales, even with his hydro blades). So far, none of them seemed to have spotted him judging by the way they are skulking about the room with slow steps.

The boy squints. Further away in that cavern, he can make out a pinprick of light. The exit to the Abyss. Where this exit will take him is the big question; his experience with Skirk has taught him that the Abyss is connected not just to different regions of Teyvat, but to multiple worlds too.

He can investigate that later. For now, he has some beasts to slay.

He draws on his Hydro powers slowly, feeling the surge of power build up in his palm as he forces the tendrils of water to wrap around themselves into a tight ball. As he does, the blue glow from his power grows brighter, casting a shimmer of pale light to his surroundings.

He holds the hydro ball steady and peers over the rock. The monsters have not noticed anything yet.

That’s about to change.

He chucks the ball over the rock and directly at them.

Those coiled hydro tendrils explode outwards upon landing the floor in a large splash. Power surges outwards like a detonated bomb, the resulting pressure strong enough to crash into the monsters, sending them skidding away from the strike zone with terrified screeches. The cave shudders with debris raining down from the ceiling. It is in that chaos that the boy strikes.

He vaults over the rock and brandishes twin hydro blades in his hands. He slashes the first monster across its exposed belly, then plunges the dagger deep into its throat to finish it off. The monster rears back and thrashes as black blood spews from its open, gaping wounds while its limbs and tail flail in agony, smashing into more rocks.

One down, but his element of surprise has officially worn off.

The boy jumps back and takes aim at another monster. This time, he’s not so lucky; the second monster evades the attack, countering the blades with a wild swipe of its claws. The boy spins on the balls of his feet, all graceful lines and speed as he uses his momentum to swing his blades around for another powerful slash to the abdomen.

The blade is met against claws of steel once more, the force of the strike travelling up the boy’s arm and making him grit his teeth in pain, but he ignores it in favour of ducking the second set of claws aimed to rip his head off his shoulders. He feels the whoosh of displaced air from the heavy-set claws skimming over his head and darts forward, blades out, for a lunge.

His aim is true. Satisfaction bursts through him as his twin hydro blades sink into the creature’s soft abdomen. As the creature rears back, roaring in pain, the boy pulls his blades back to sink them both into its heart.

But there’s no time to celebrate taking out two foes in quick succession or to take a breather, not when he has a split second to flip away from the claw swipes of Monsters #3, #4, and #5.

Now that they’ve discovered the intruder in their midst, the monsters go on a relentless assault against the boy, and it takes every bit of concentration and muscle memory in him to dance away from the attacks. Even with his training, there are many close calls; the boy can feel the glancing blows those sharp claws have on his leather armor, scoring scratches along the sides, his chest, and his back. He’s gasping for breath, filling his lungs with damp air that provides little comfort to his overheated, sweaty body while he can hear his heartbeat pounding in his ear.

But even pressed into a three on one attack, the boy is grinning wide as his body sings.

Yes, this is the rush he’s been missing all along, the sweet, addictive rush of power and adrenaline every second he cheats death, never knowing if the next breath would be his last. When one of the monsters whips its tail at him, forcing him to roll to the ground and land hard on his forearms, the boy lets out a peel of bright laughter before springing to his feet.

“Almost got me!” he singsongs past the ache of his throbbing muscles and the stinging scratches on his skin. With a quick flick of his wrist, he twirls his blades and brings them together, moulding the hydro into his favoured two-headed polearm. As he does, he gathers more and more hydro energy into his weapon until everything tingles with power.

He grins. “Almost is not good enough!”

He swings his weapon out in an arc and sends his hydro power towards his opponent.

Blue arcs of water slice through the air like blades and slash into the three monsters. The boy’s grin widens at the sight of fresh black blood gushing from the screeching creatures.

Yes. This is what he wants. More of this. More power.

He presses forward, slashing the air with his weapon. As he does, more water blades fly towards his opponents to slam into every inch of tender flesh it can penetrate. More cuts open, spilling rank, rotting blood to the ground, so much so that the monsters’ fronts are drenched in black.

Yes. More.

The boy breaks his hydro polearm into twin blades just as he reaches the first monster that has fallen to its knees. There is no hesitation as he slices his blade across its throat. The waterfall of black blood comes spewing out, drenching him in stinking, sticky warmth, but the boy merely laughs.

He dances to the other monster and repeats his action. A quick schlick and the creature is no more.

One more to go, and the boy has never felt so alive.

The boy finds the last monster slumped on the ground, bleeding profusely from the thousands of cuts littering its body. It can barely raise its head, and it watches the boy, frozen, eyes so wide that he can see the white in them.

It is terrified of him.

The boy laughs. Distantly, he can make out how funny he sounds: his voice is cracked and tinged with hysteria and he feels so, very powerful.

“Aww, don’t tell me that you’re done already,” he says. He twirls his blades in his hands and laughs again when the monster’s eyes dart to his weapons. “Well, if that’s the case, I promise to make your death a fast o—”

A loud roar resonates through the cavern and then a large, black boulder-like thing charges towards him. The boy backs away and flings some more water blades at it.

They ricochet harmlessly off of whatever the fuck that is. And it is getting closer and closer. Cursing, the boy dives away before it can slam into him. The boulder manages to stop itself, sliding a few feet from the slippery water and blood coating the stone floor and…unfurls itself. The boy’s eyes slide up, and up, and up—

Shit. The creature, no, monster, is huge. It towers over all the other beasts the boy was fighting. It’s so tall that now, standing before him on its hind legs, the monster’s head is a barely skimming the ceiling.

It is obvious that this monster is a much powerful version of the ones the boy had killed. In addition to being the biggest monster he has laid eyes on, it has great thick scales lining its entire body similar to its weaker brethren except it’s also got scales along its belly, covering the only vulnerability that the boy could easily exploit. Rather than a single row of spikes running down its back, this monster has rows of them such that it looks like it is wearing a cape full of deadly porcupine spines. Its claws are longer and its horns are bigger, curling on each side of its ears like those on a ram.

It peers down at the boy and snorts.

Then, without warning, it spins around and whips out its long, spiked tail.

Fast! Too fast for the boy to dodge. The appendage slams into his middle and he’s sent flying across the room. He lands heavily on his back, cold water soaking into his clothes doing nothing to drown out the agony radiating from his body or the surge of metallic flooding his mouth.

He rolls over and spits out the mouthful, dragging the back of his hand over his lips and smearing more red on his skin.

He laughs.

“Good! Good! Looks like I’ll finally get a real fight!”

The boy gets to his feet. He twirls his blades around and slams the ends together to reforge his long double-headed polearm. He swings the weapon.

Blue water blades fly through the air once more. They slam into the monster one after another and another.

Nothing. The monster does not budge.

The boy snarls and draws in hydro power into his palm. He lets his power coil tight, tighter than the first bomb he had made, until he feels heat starting to burn his hand before drawing his arm back.

With all the strength he can muster, he chucks it at the monster.

This time, the power that explodes upon impact sends a shockwave outwards, followed by a loud boom that echoes through the cave. The boy throws his arms over his head and braces himself but the explosion is so powerful that he finds himself pushed back a good number of feet until his skids to a stop.

He opens his eyes and coughs, waving away the dust and debris obscuring his vision.

Did he do it? Did he—

No.

The smoke clears. The monster is still standing still, looking untouched.

It locks its eyes on the boy and lets out a terrible roar.

Something that feels like trepidation begins to trickle into the boy’s heart.

The fight drags on.

No, calling this a fight is not even remotely accurate—not when it’s so clear that this battle is nothing but a one-sided beating.

For the umpteenth time that evening, the boy finds himself being slammed into the rock wall. Fresh pain snakes up his back and sides, and fuck, he’s pretty sure he’s fractured a few bones there.

With a shaky, bloodstained hand against the wall, he stands on weak legs, wavering in place. He doesn’t know how he’s keeping himself upright. Probably out of pure determination.

Nothing works on the monster. No hydro weapons, no hydro-infused slashes, and no bombs have even penetrated that thick hide. The only thing he’s managed is to make the monster angry by not dying fast enough.

The creature opens its maw and lets out a terrifying roar. It’s at that moment that the boy finds his strength leaving him. With a yelp, he drops to the ground, his legs finally giving up on him.

“Fuck, no, no, no—get up! Get up!”

The monster lumbers closer and the boy backpedals as hard as he can until his back hits against the wall.

Nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.

Shit. Shitshitshit – he’s going to die. He’s going to die and he’s – he’s—

Absolutely furious.

This cannot be extent of his strength. This cannot be all that he can do. He refuses to accept that this is his fate.

He needs to be stronger. He needs to be stronger. He needs to be stronger—

Something inside of him pulses bright hot, so hot that it almost feels like he’s being scorched from the inside out. The boy clutches at his heart as that feeling grows sharper and more acrid as if it is a live creature trying to claw out. Through it all, the hungry little voice whispering in his ear grows deafening.

Need to be stronger! Need to be stronger! Need to be – no.

He will be stronger!

This will not be the end of him! He will not allow it!

Fire courses through him and bleeds through his veins. He screams as the sound of wet snapping fills the air. His eyes roll down to his hands clutching against his heart and—

His hands – they’re, they’re large, having magically grown twice as big. They look almost grotesque in how big they are contrasted to his thin wrist and the skin has turned pitch black save for the wicked gold claws curving from his fingers.

That black is spreading up his hand towards his wrists and as it does, his flesh seems to bubble, then inflate like a balloon, and there’s no stopping it. He doesn’t know how.

A crack fills the air like a lightning strike and the boy’s head snaps up in time to see a purple blur – a humanoid figure – slam into the monster, sending it crashing onto the ground. The blur zips up and then plunges down…

To stab directly through the eyes of the creature.

There’s the sound of wet, cracking squelch – no doubt, the blow has pierced through the skull – and just like that, the great threat to the boy’s life is no more.

But the boy is not in a position to feel relieved, not when that darkness is spreading to his forearm.

“H – help,” he croaks out. “I can’t – I don’t know what’s going on!”

The figure stands up and heads for the boy, only stopping when it’s standing right before him.

It is hard to make out its features through the tears of pain in his eyes, made harder with the mask covering the stranger’s face and the fur cloak draped over its body. What’s obvious is the size of the newcomer, easily twice as tall as any human should be.

“Looks like the Abyss has managed to finally sink its claws into you,” the voice says, and it’s a familiar voice even underneath the guttural snarl tainting it. “I had hoped I had a bit more time until I have to teach you to control this power. I wanted your body to be stronger first, but it looks like my time has run out.”

The boys eyes go wide.

“S – skirk?”

The figure dips its head. “It’s me, kid.”

“Why do you – ARGH!”

Fresh pain lances up his arms and the boy watches with horror at the way his limbs swell up.

“Kid, take deep breaths and focus on stopping the spread.”

“I can’t!” the boy cries out. “I don’t know what’s happening to me!”

“You wanted strength to defeat the creature. The Abyss is trying to grant you that wish through this Foul Legacy Transformation.” Skirk shakes her head. “I’m sorry in advance, kid.”

“Sorry for—”

The kid doesn’t get to finish his question before a blurred hand comes rushing towards him. There’s sharp pain at the back of his neck and he’s out like a light.

Ajax’s eyes snap open.

Foul Legacy Transformation. He knows those words! They’re the second power that OG Tartaglia has access to once the battle gauge is appropriately filled out!

The description of this power is also locked for both Ajax and AR.

He bolts out of bed and heads for his writing desk. “AR!” he calls out as he rummages through his drawer. Where’s his notebook and pen? Where are – ah! Found them! He flips to a blank page and starts jotting down his memory.

“Did you see that dream? That was terrifying! And we’re finally seeing this Foul Legacy Transformation thing in action, or at least the beginnings of it. Has the information on Foul Legacy Transformation been unlocked now?”

He’s greeted with silence.

“AR?”

There is the familiar sound of a soft chime and Ajax sighs in relief.

“Sorry, Ajax. I was…just processing what I saw. The sight just now made me feel deeply unnerved.”

“I’ll say. Whatever power that OG Tartaglia had just gained feels really painful.” The image of his hands and arms swelling up like that makes Ajax shudder. “I think the description blurb about this power said something about paying a terrible price? I don’t remember the exact words of what you’ve read to me, but I can see how much toll it would have on the body.”

“The partial description from the battle menu reads: ‘Foul Legacy Transformation – A mysterious power granted to Tartaglia that is abyssal in nature. It is a power from which Tartaglia can draw on to gain a large boost in temporary strength but at a great cost later on…’ Additional details about this ability have been added to this description. Would you like me to read it?”

“Yes please!”

“Noted. The new passage reads, ‘This mysterious power will provide the following stats boost for as long as it is triggered: Attack +400%, Speed +500%...”

On and on the list of stats increase goes to the point where Ajax can’t even keep up with his notes.

“In addition, there are the Status Effects. It reads: ’Status Effect(s): Given the power’s direct link to the Abyss, using it will bestow the status effect Abyssal Taint permanently until a cleansing ritual has been completed. Other Status Effect(s): Health reduction by 80% for 48 hours.’”

“Jesus Christ,” Ajax says with a grimace. “Abyssal Taint and 80% HP reduction for two days? That’s brutal! Thanks but no thanks.”

“I think that would be very wise.”

Ajax finishes writing his notes. “You doing okay, otherwise? Not to say that feeling deeply unnerved is okay.”

“In terms of glitches, I have not experienced any. But in respect to other sensations, this dream has given me the strongest sense of déjà vu out of all other incidents.”

AR continues, almost hesitating. “I do not know why but I could…remember the painful sensation when I had witnessed Character Tartaglia’s transformation. I could feel the burning in my chest, and then the horrible agony slicing through my hands and arms. It was…visceral and real in a way that I do not recall ever experiencing.”

Ajax thinks back on their current theory. The running hypothesis is that AR had witnessed OG Tartaglia’s life before, possibly as a System. Since Systems are synchronized to their hosts (like the way AR is synchronized to Ajax), it would explain the stronger reaction he would have in revisiting these dreams.

But in what instances does synchronization result in the System experiencing physical pain from the host?

“You haven’t experienced any pain with me, have you?” Ajax asks.

“I have not,” AR answers. “I know where you’re going with this. I don’t know if the sensation I’m remembering has to do with my past synchronization with the Character Tartaglia, assuming I was his System. It seems to be an odd…side-effect to be experiencing.”

“Do you know if you have any information on what sort of effects you should expect to experience?”

“Unfortunately, the User Manual is silent on this topic.” AR sighs. “Yet more information that the Administrators are hiding from us. I am beginning to feel really sick and tired from all the games we are forced to play.”

“I’m guessing from that answer, it means the Administrators have not contacted you, huh?”

“No.”

Great. As always, they’re stuck with no plans on how to progress.

The helplessness of his situation and the feeling of impending doom from the Main Mission inching closer feed into Ajax’s black mood that morning. Not even receiving Zhongli’s sweet cheek kisses and good morning hug the moment he steps into the kitchen help alleviate his frustration and anxiety completely.

“Is something the matter, my dearest,” Zhongli says, pulling away with a frown. “You’re very tense. Is something bothering you?”

“Just some ongoing annoyances that have to do with work,” Ajax lies, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I received a report about one of the accounts that’s been giving me a persistent headache – no, not physically. I mean metaphorically. There’s no need to worry.”

“An impossible ask,” Zhongli answers. “But I hope this will make you feel a little better. Hold out your hand and close your eyes, please.”

Ajax closes his eyes and lays out his hand, palms up in front of Zhongli. “What is it?”

Something cold and light drops on to his palm.

“You may open your eyes.”

Nestled in his palm is his ring, the one Zhongli had given him as a promise, except it’s strung by a delicate gold chain dotted with a series of small, sparkling, yellow gemstone that Ajax cannot recognize. Under the soft morning sunlight, the shimmering necklace is throwing pin pricks of rainbow against his skin, making the piece of jewelry even more gorgeous.

It’s also absolute overkill. What the hell, the whole purpose of wearing the ring as a necklace is to be subtle. But the obvious effort it took to make something so perfect has Ajax flushing.

“Zhongli, this is gorgeous. And you made this in a day too? Wow!”

Zhongli preens with the satisfaction of a well-fed cat. “It is made out of the finest gold, platinum and cor lapis. It is also imbued with my geo powers to strengthen the chain.”

Which means it’s indestructible. Perfect for Ajax’s stat grinding lifestyle.

Ajax grins. “You know me so well, Zhongli. Put it on for me?”

“Of course.”

He turns around and lets Zhongli loop the necklace around his neck before fiddling with the clasp to get it to close. Soft fingers linger on the closure, then, trails around his neck, skimming the golden chain. The softness of the touch is only matched by the look in Zhongli’s eyes.

Ajax swallows. “Zhongli?”

“It is perfect on you,” he murmurs. He moves his hand so that he’s caressing Ajax’s cheek. “Gold is a lovely colour on you and, I suspect, red would be too.”

Red? Like his scarf and mask? Ajax supposes that’s true enough, he likes to think that OG Tartaglia’s character design is probably his one saving grace in Genshin Impact 1.0. So, he nods.

“Uh, thanks, Zhongli.” And because he feels awkward being the only one to accept the compliment, he adds, “I think red will look nice on you too. I’ve always liked how you do your eyes – the red liner is striking.”

Zhongli beams.

The System’s familiar chimes out. “Status Update. Relationship with Zhongli, L Points +50.”

For some reason, AR sounds almost…exasperated, but Ajax couldn’t figure out why for the life of him, nor the exorbitant amount of L points he just earned simply from complimenting Zhongli. How? Why?

“Will you be up to visit for lunch?” Zhongli asks, and Ajax lets his train of thought go. “Or would you like to stay and relax? No, going to the bank to your office is not an option, not when your leave is technically not over yet. In fact, you shouldn’t have even read that work report to get you so stressed.”

In hindsight, Ajax should’ve picked something else for his lie. Now, Zhongli won’t stop harping him about his work habits.

“I’ll drop by Wangsheng Funeral Parlour with lunch. Any requests?”

Zhongli loops his arms around his neck. “Anything you make is delicious, so I have complete faith in your ability to make something I like.”

Geeze, since when did Zhongli become so smooth? “Flatterer,” he mumbles, face red once more. He leans over and gives Zhongli a peck close to the corner of his mouth, a move that has the other purring his pleased rumbling purrs.

“Now, let’s get some breakfast or else you’ll be late.”

Figuring out what to make for lunch serves as a perfect distraction from the frustrations of dealing with the Administrators. Ajax throws himself into the task, puttering around the kitchen to prepare a simple pork bone soup, a stir-fried beef and veggies dish, roasted eggplants, fresh, fluffy rice, and a plate of jueyun chili chicken. He packs everything up in neat little boxes, stacks them together and wraps them in beautiful cloth, then tucksin a thermos of fresh oolong tea into his makeshift bag before setting off to find Zhongli.

His good mood has almost completely returned by the time he arrives to Wangsheng Funeral Parlour, where Zhongli is there to greet him by the door.

“Hello again, stranger,” Ajax teases and leans over to give Zhongli a kiss on his cheek because he can (and he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop feeling giddy about it, either). “I brought you some lunch. I hope you’re hungry, I may have gone a tad overboard.”

For some reason, Zhongli gives him a sheepish look. “I apologize, dearest, would you mind if we defer our lunch by half an hour?”

“That’s not a problem, Zhongli.” Ajax gives the other a teasing smile. “If you’re busy with work, you didn’t have meet me at the door, you know. You could’ve just sent someone to let me know. I wouldn’t have mind waiting.”

“It wouldn’t have been proper,” Zhongli insists. “Besides, the Traveller can wait, especially after they have so rudely interrupted our lunch hour together.”

Wait. Traveller?

‘Lo and behold, a new and very familiar voice from behind Zhongli interrupts. “Geeze, is this the thanks I get after doing practically all the work for the Rite of Parting?”

Ajax leans over and waves although the sight of the Traveller and Paimon has his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach.

“Hello Lumine, hello Paimon! I hope your travel went well. I’m assuming this means you’ve gotten the glaze lilies sorted?”

Lumine nods. “Everything is good to go. Let’s get this Rite done already.”

Right on cue, AR’s voice chimes out, “Status Update. MAIN MISSION Objective (1) Wait for the Traveller to finish shopping for the consultant for Wangsheng Funeral Parlour to solve the mystery of the Exuvia’s location. Completed. The Traveller has finished shopping for the consultant for Wangsheng Funeral Parlour in preparation for the Rite of Parting. Rewards earned: +40 SP, +2000 mora. Relationship Status with the Traveller, F point: +30, R point: +50. Relationship Status with Paimon, F point: +70.

“Achievements Earned: ‘Thank god one of us is working’, for managing to complete the objective by lending minimal to no help. Rewards earned: SP +10.

“‘It builds character!’ for getting the Traveller to reach Level 100. Rewards earned: SP +40.

“‘With friends like these, who needs enemies?’ for raising the amount of R points from the Traveller past 100. Rewards earned: SP + 10.

“‘The way to the heart is through the stomach’ for raising the amount of F points from Paimon to past 100.

“Status Update. MAIN MISSION Objective (1): All the pieces of the puzzle have come together. The preparations for the Rite are complete and the Traveller knows about the location where the Exuvia is stored. All there is left to do is wait for the time to make your way to the Golden House for the showdown. Time Remaining: 47h 59m 59s…58s…57s…”

The feeling of dread increases exponentially.

Shit. Looks like he’s finally out of time.

Part XLI. The Boy from Morepesok: Part 4

“I think we’re going to fail the Tartaglia side-quest,” Ajax laments as he’s sprawled out on his back in bed that night. “I mean, what does the side-quest description say again?”

“Traces of Tartaglia (2): You have found some of Tartaglia’s hidden objects in your quest to discover more information about Tartaglia. You have found some important information about Tartaglia’s childhood. Continue your search to discover Tartaglia’s link with the Abyss.”

Ajax groans. “We’re still at Traces of Tartaglia (2)? The dreams haven’t made any dent in our progress at all!”

“The dreams are clearly reaching to a point in Tartaglia’s childhood where the link to the Abyss is revealing itself to us,” AR says. “But things are moving too slowly. At this rate, who knows when we’ll get the information we need.”

“We also don’t know how many parts to this quest there are either. Even if the dreams reveal the information we need, who’s to say that we won’t have to clear Traces of Tartaglia (3) or (4) or, like, a billion?”

“We might still be able to finish the side-quest after Osial’s release.”

“It’ll be a lot harder – we won’t have access to OG Tartaglia’s apartment and we won’t be able to write to his family. So no more hunting for buried information there.”

Ajax sighs and rolls over, grabbing a pillow and clutching it to his chest.

“This sucks so hard. I’m sorry, buddy,” Ajax says, directed at the empty air above him.

“Why are you apologizing to me for?”

“Because I know you’ve been hoping that this quest would help shed some light on your connection with OG Tartaglia too, what with the glitches and weird familiar sensations you’ve been experiencing.”

Ajax buries his face in the pillow and stews in the silence and misery. This sucks so hard. They’ve done so much already and to realize that all that effort would go to waste leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

“Ajax, do you remember how I was considering doing something a little more drastic to get the Administrators’ attention?”

“Hm.”

“I am thinking that perhaps now it’s the time for me to go against my non-interference clause.”

Ajax goes still. “Wait, what?”

“My non-interference clause in my employment contract. As a System, I can provide aid to help you accomplish objectives but only to a certain extent. There is a line that I cannot cross. There are certain things that I am prohibited from doing, like, for the lack of a better term, time manipulation.”

Ajax sits up. “AR, buddy. Remember that chat we had about fucking around and finding out? I really, really don’t want to find out. Also, what the fuck? Time manipulation?”

There is a mechanical sound that reminds Ajax of low laughter. “It’s more like an ability to fast forward certain things without affecting the time of the world around it,” AR explains. “Like, say, making crops sprout instantaneously from planted seeds, or making an animal grow to its full size in the manner of seconds. In this case, I was thinking of using the function on the dreams. As for the risks, I’m willing to gamble.”

“Okay, but what if, I dunno, you get fired or something? Also, didn’t you say that you get some sort of a reward once your job is completed? What happens if they take that away?”

“I reread my contract! What’s interesting is that I do not have a termination clause which means technically, I cannot be fired or terminated from my post. If the Administrators are bound by that contract, then I am willing to gamble that I will get my meeting rather than being fired even if my reward is on the line.”

This is not at all reassuring.

“Besides,” AR adds, “at the way these glitches and information locks are interfering with my job as a System, I highly doubt I’d be able to succeed and get that reward anyway.”

“It just seems so unfair how you’ll be the one taking the flak just because the Administrators aren’t doing anything.”

Well, Ajax isn’t going to let his buddy go down on his own. They’ve been in the trenches too long for him to leave AR to take all the heat. “For what it’s worth, if they try to give you shit, I’ll be happy to fight them with you!”

There’s the sound of mechanical chuckles. “What happened to not wanting to fuck around and find out?”

“I take it back. The Administrators are being assholes and deserve a good talking to!”

“Alright, alright, thank you Ajax, for being willing to fight alongside me,” AR says with fondness. “Now, since we’re in agreement with this plan, please give me one second. System Store, override code: 4X1S325.”

Ajax waits as AR mumbles out a string of codes made of random numbers and letters. As he does, windows are materializing around him with more strings of code materializing and running down the page. It takes a solid five minutes before the windows start to disappear one by one as if an invisible hand had closed them, until only one window is left behind with the words “Ability Unlocked – One Time Use!” emblazoned across it.

“I can’t get the Ability to unlock for unlimited uses,” AR says, accurately predicting Ajax’s question. “For now, this will have to suffice. I’ll figure out another solution if we need it.”

Ajax nods. “Let’s try to find what we need tonight and hope we don’t need to do this again.”

Despite all the excitement (and nerve-wracking fear that things won’t pan out), Ajax finds himself drifting to sleep the moment his head hits the pillow, and as the last of his conscious thoughts fade, he hears faintly, “Activate Ability Time Manipulation.”

The boy’s eyes snap open and immediately wishes he was still unconscious. Pain slams into him from every direction so much so that it feels like he’s nothing but one giant bruise. Even his eyelashes hurt.

“Finally awake, you little idiot?”

The familiar face of his master pops into view. She looks blurry through his teary eyes, but even with his fuzzy vision, he can make out the large scowl on her face.

He watches her bend down and pry open his eye lids (while ignoring the way he’s grimacing in pain). She lets go with a grunt of satisfaction after a few seconds of inspection.

“No lingering side-effects, good, good,” she mutters. She lifts his cover and takes his hands, lifting and rotating them, and the boy is beyond relief to see that his limbs are back to their normal, pale, peachy self even if moving them feels like his limbs are dipped in liquid fire.

“Your hands and arms are also back to normal. Looks like the transformation has worn off.”

She tucks his hands back to his side and pulls the cover back up. “You’re going to feel like shit for the next week, by the way. The first time is always the roughest even if it’s not a complete transformation, and that’s even if you’re at full health, which you weren’t because you’re an idiot.”

The boy cringes at her sharp tone. “Aw, master—”

“Don’t you ‘master’ me, boy!” she snaps. “Honestly, what were you thinking? What did I tell you about fighting those monsters? What’s the point of you calling me your master if you’re just going to ignore my teachings!”

Panic flares in his heart. “Master Skirk, I know I went against your orders but it’s just – I just wanted to prove to you how strong I’ve gotten!”

“The only thing you’ve proven to me is that you don’t listen and you haven’t learned shit!”

She trudges to the fire where something foul-smelling is bubbling in a large pot hanging over the fire. She snags a nearby bowl and ladles out the liquid all the while muttering, “Unbelievable. I can’t believe the sheer idiocy you displayed!”

She stalks back over to the boy, sits down on the ground and places the bowl down. “I’m lifting you up a little. It’s going to hurt. Suck it up.”

“You’re doin – ow! Ow ow ow! Master Skirk!”

“What did I say about sucking it up?” she says, shoving a bunch of rolled up furs to support his back. “You only have yourself to blame for your current state! Now drink the medicine!”

The boy doesn’t get the chance to protest because how? He can’t even lift his hands – before a rough, hand-carved wooden spoon is shoved into his mouth. Familiar bitterness floods his tongue but he bites back his disgust and takes down the medicine.

There are few herbs that have medicinal properties in the Abyss, so every drop is precious. For Skirk to spare so much for him, enough to make a whole pot, it must mean that he must have been in serious trouble.

The realization sends a deep rush of shame into his heart, enough to get him to finish the bowl in sheepish silence.

“So, what happened?” he asks when his bowl is done. “I remembered my arms transforming and…I remember you looking different.”

“Foul Legacy Transformation,” Skirk answers as she sets the bowl aside in favour of feeding him a mouthful of water. “It’s a power bestowed upon those who have stayed in the Abyss for a little too long, I suppose.”

The last part is said with a sneer. The boy is wise enough to hold his tongue for an explanation.

“Perhaps it was stupid of me to keep this knowledge from you,” she mutters, reaching for the ladle to stir the bubbling pot. When she’s satisfied, she removes the pot from the fire and pulls out a small knife and a little block of mishappen wood from her pocket – her whittling project. “I had hoped that the Abyss wouldn’t get to you. I had hoped your Vision would protect you long enough until we can find a way out for you. A futile endeavour.”

She sighs. “Let’s start with the basics, boy. The Abyss is dangerous not because it is a place where monsters fester in the darkness, but because the Abyss itself is alive. It is a beast that hungers for innocent souls and it will do anything to trap those unlucky enough to be caught in its maw. One of those traps includes exuding this poison that seeps into its victim, slowly, surely, with every breath they take, and when it gets into the body…”

The boy listens as his master tells him the secrets of the Abyss and its poison, of the effect it has on people. It changes them. Warps them. Renders them mad and exacerbates their most negative emotions: fear, anger, frustration, despair, hatred. As that negativity festers, the Abyss feasts, which renders the negativity even more potent.

It is a perpetuating an endless cycle of eating.

The Foul Legacy Transformation is one of the ways the Abyss’s poison can manifest itself in the human body, when combined with enough bloodthirsty rage.

The partial transformation the boy went through just shows how much poison he’s been afflicted. Worse still, this poison will stay with him for life.

“It is critical that you keep your transformation under control, boy. In your transformed state, it becomes infinitely easier to lose yourself to the bloodlust and madness. It’s even more important that you use your transformation sparingly.”

“Why?” the boy asks. “I know you said that form is a manifestation of the Abyss’s poison but you were so strong in it.” Why would anybody give up that much strength?

Skirk gives him a scathing look from across the fire as if knowing what he’s thinking. “Idiot boy. You think there is such a thing as gaining something for free? There is always a price to be paid when it comes to the Abyss.” She glances at his Vision. “Or Celestia. The sooner you remember this, the better. Do not let your guard down and do not give into the temptation of this poison. Trust me, boy. You will regret it if you forget.”

“I – I won’t,” the boy says, voice tight. “I won’t forget.”

“You better.” Deemed him sufficiently warned, Skirk’s expression loses the frostiness from before and gestures vaguely in his direction. “You should sleep, boy. You will need time to recuperate. The moment you are healed, we will work on your control over your Foul Legacy Form.”

She keeps her promise. The next few days are a haze of pain and rest and disgusting medicine. The moment the boy is well enough to get out of bed, she drags him out of the cave for training.

“Step one, figure out how to trigger it but control your transformation. This is what you do…”

It’s slow going and deeply, deeply painful. Not like the boy expects anything different. He doesn’t dare complain, not with Skirk’s words echoing in his head and with the way she keeps repeating at the end of every lesson: “Don’t forget your lesson, boy. Stay in control.”

More days pass, though the exact number is lost on the boy. Every day, it’s lessons on transformations involving harnessing the Abyssal power within him to manipulate his form over and over again until he can commit it to muscle memory. His lesson in control starts with something small: his pointer finger. When he masters that, he graduates to controlling his hands, then his arms, his feet, his legs until finally, his torso and head. The latter two have been the hardest, and the pain from the transformation had knocked him down for a whole day after his first attempt.

But he’s doing it. He’s slowly learning control. He’s recognizing the way the Abyssal power rushes through his veins and he’s learning how to control the rate in which it’s rushing through him, or how to twist and form it to suit his needs.

(He doesn’t dare tell his master how in his transformed state, he can…hear those angry whispered thoughts in his mind so much clearer – whispers for him to fight, to grow stronger, since it’s his god-given right to be the strongest there is, and to not stop until he’s climbed to the very pinnacle where everybody has to recognize his strength. Sometimes, the voice screams at him to go further, to push himself more so that he will never again find himself helpless before that great beast that had almost slain him. Never again will he be helpless before a foe. Never again will he need to rely on someone to save him.)

(He doesn’t think he needs to tell his master, not with the knowing looks she gives him. She probably knows.)

He succeeds eventually. The first time he’s able to transform fully under the watchful eyes of his master, he gives a great big whoop of success.

“Master Skirk!” he shouts. In this form, his voice sounds guttural. Powerful like the crackling abyssal strength coursing through his body. “I did it, Master Skirk!”

The corners of Skirk’s lips twitch up. “Good,” she says simply. “Looks like you’re finally ready for Lesson 2.”

“Lesson 2?”

Skirk nods. Then she draws the dark power of the Abyss around her like a cloak. When it dissipates, it reveals the sight of his Master, significantly larger and draped from head to toe in black armor.

“Lesson 2,” her voice rings out, harsh and low and as monstrous as her Abyssal Form. “Defend!”

The boy only has that much warning before she rushes at him, dark sword thrusting towards his chest.

The boy’s confidence is short-lived – he loses that fight. Badly.

He continues to lose his fights against Skirk up until they find an exit to the Abyss that will lead him home.

This time, when he and Skirk tackle the monsters guarding the exit, they handle the matter swiftly and smoothly, cutting down the waves of creatures as easily as cutting through butter with a hot blade.

They leave a trail of bodies behind their wake and trudge forward as one towards the sliver of light glowing in the distance. As they get closer, the boy can see the sliver of light is, in reality, a large, jagged rift cut through the rock wall, just large enough for an adult to squeeze through if they turn their heads to the side and shimmy sideways. Cold air and bits of snow are pouring in from the crack, gathering a small pile on the ground.

The boy cries out in happiness.

“Master Skirk! We did it, we found our way out! I recognize that smell of winter and pine trees anywhere! It’s the woods of Morepesok, I just know it!”

“Best we check first, boy. For all we know, what’s out there could be some world that’s not Teyvat.”

The boy digs through his pack and pulls out his Vision and some rope. After tying the rope around his Vision, he carefully tosses it out the crack and peers through, squinting.

Nothing happens at first, but in the next breath, a blue glow emerges from the Vision. It pulses, like a heartbeat, with each second growing more vibrant until the entire casing shines as bright as a beacon.

“Looks like it’s Teyvat, alright,” Skirk notes. “your Vision wouldn’t have responded if it was another world. Good.”

The boy quickly reels his Vision back, unties it, and clips it to his belt. His heart is beating wildly in his chest. He’s so happy. He’s so close to being able to go home!

“Alright! Time to get going! Mama and Pa are probably worried sick about me! And my sisters and brothers too. I hope they’ve been doing alright. Master Skirk, you’re going to love them, just you wait! Mama will cook you her best fish stew and I bet you won’t be able to stop with just one bowl!”

He heads towards the crack and angles himself so that he can slip through.

He looks behind him.

His Master Skirk has not moved.

“Master Skirk?” he asks. “What are you doing? What are you waiting for?”

Skirk shakes her head and gives him a rueful smile. “Sorry, boy. I’m not going. Go on without me.”

The boy does not budge. “W – what do you mean? Why aren’t you coming?”

Skirk sighs but finally, she walks closer. “Boy, the Abyss is my home. I’ve been surviving here for decades now and I rather like it here. Out there,” she gestures to the opening, “there’s nothing left for me. Not anymore.”

“But – but – won’t you get lonely?” He can’t just leave his master alone. He just can’t. Who is she going to yell at for being stupid? Who will she spar with? Who will go hunting with her during the day and cooking with her during the night?

Besides, won’t the Abyss’s poisonous effect harm her if she continues to stay here?

For some reason, Skirk does not seem concerned. She flashes him a grin. “I’ll be fine boy. Truth be told, I’ve spent more time living in the Abyss than I have in the surface world. I don’t think I remember what Teyvat looks like, at this point, and I can’t say I miss it.”

She leans over and flicks him on the forehead. “You, on the other hand, have people waiting for you. So go. Don’t keep them waiting.”

This does not make him feel any better, and he feels his frown deepening as her words and her intention finally sink in.

She’s not – she’s not coming with him? She’s really, really going to stay?

“Oh, none of that. You know how I’m not good with tears.”

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a little fox wooden figurine: the result of countless hours of whittling by the fire. She reaches out, grabs the boy’s hand, and places the figurine delicately into his palm.

“For you, boy. A gift so that you may remember our time together as well as our lessons. Don’t forget about control and moderation. I know how reckless you can get.”

The stinging in his eyes get worse. “Master Skirk…”

“Huh, still so soft-hearted despite it all.” She clasps him on the shoulder and gives him a squeeze as her expression gentles. “Good. Don’t lose that heart of yours, boy.”

Another squeeze on the shoulder, and then, she shoves him gently away. “Go, boy. It’s time for you to go home.”

The boy wipes his face with the back of his hand. “I – I won’t forget your lessons, Master Skirk! And don’t think I’m going to just leave you here either! Once I get back home to make sure Ma and Pa know I’m alright, I’m coming back and – and I’ll bring fish stew! A whole pot! So – so just you wait!”

Skirk’s lips twitch into a smirk. “Of course, you will, boy. Off you go now.”

With a final nod, the boy tucks his gift into his pocket and makes his way out of the exit.

He’s greeted with blistering cold the moment he emerges from the exit on the other side. Arctic wind whips at his clothes and hair, and he wraps his arms around himself, shivering. But at least his surroundings look familiar; he recognizes those woods since his father would take him and his siblings out to play or they would pass through to go to their favoured fishing spot. He knows that means the mountains behind him are the Ural Mountains.

The boy looks back behind him at the crack to the Abyss. It shouldn’t be hard to come back to this entrance at all. But just in case…

He summons his Hydro blades (spending a second to marvel how easy his power comes to his call) and carve deep slashes on the rock next to the crevasse. There. That should do it. He will keep marking the nearby trees and rocks so that he will now how to navigate back.

Satisfied with his handiwork, the boy begins his cold trek home.

He’s recognized immediately the moment he wanders into the village. Villagers cry out in surprise and the next thing he knows, he’s being swept up in a large, fluffy blanket and carried inside. Someone shoves a bowl of warm broth into his hands while another places a large mug of comforting tea beside him. He doesn’t get through half of his bowl before his family barges in with cries of relief and jubilation.

“Oh, my sweet baby,” his mother cries, wrapping him up in a suffocating hug. “Oh, I thought I lost you. My poor child. My sweet heart.”

“I’m fine, Mama,” the boy mumbles. “I miss you a lot too.”

There’s a huge celebration that night in honour of his miraculous survival, one that lasts for three days and three nights. It’s not until the fourth day that the boy can finally sneak out from beneath the watchful gaze of his paranoid parents, armed with proper winter gear and a pot of fish stew.

He follows his markings to guide him back through the woods. His eyes brighten when he sees the familiar stone façade looming closer and closer.

He rushes towards it and grins at the marking on the wall.

“Master Skirk!” he shouts. “I’m back! I brought stew as promised!”

His eyes scan the space beside his markings.

“Master Skirk?”

There is nothing there. Just a blank stone wall.

The boy puts the pot down and runs to the wall.

“No, no, no!” He presses his hands and runs them across the rock wall, feeling against the rough surface for something, anything, a hole, a crack, anything.

But the wall remains completely smooth save for the markings he had made with his blades.

Much later, after spending hours wailing from his broken heart, he would remember what his Master Skirk had once said about openings from the Abyss to the outside world. They are always in flux, always changing. One day, they’re there and the next, they would disappear without a trace.

Master Skirk had clearly known that this exit would no longer be there. Master Skirk had known that this would’ve been their last goodbye.

“Master Skirk had – she had –”

A mechanical voice fills the air and Ajax is jerked to consciousness.

“She knew.”

Ajax frowns and squints around groggily. “AR?”

“She knew and she hadn’t said anything.”

Ajax sits up. “AR?” he repeats, louder.

“W – why hadn’t she said anything? Why would she just leave m – why would she just—”

Panic starts to set in. “AR!”

The voice stops.

Then. “Ajax?”

It sounds delicate and fragile. It does nothing to soothe Ajax’s worries. “You doing okay, buddy? Do you know where you are?” Shit, is this another glitch?

“Ajax,” AR interrupts. “I am sorry to ask this of you, especially since we have just gotten up, but I need you to head to m – to the apartment. The one in the hotel.”

“AR, buddy, I don’t understand. Why do you want me to—”

“Please, Ajax.”

Ajax shuts up and quickly pulls on his clothes.

It’s still very early morning, so early that the street lamps are still lit and the night only carries a sliver of pink and orange from the impending sunrise. It makes for easy jogging through the streets without attracting too much attention, which is just what Ajax needs because he’s only wearing the bare minimum for decency’s sake.

He rushes through the front entrance of the hotel, through the empty lobby and up the stairs, skipping two at a time. He gets to his old hotel room door, unlocks the door, and slips inside.

It’s been a while since he’s been inside this room, not like there’s much to see. Almost all of his stuff is at Zhongli’s, leaving only OG Tartaglia’s ugly furniture behind and large stretches of empty space, giving the unit a half-lived in feeling. A layer of dust has settled on everything and the air smells stale.

A mechanical chime sounds out. “The couch,” AR says. Under the seating cushion to the far right. Lift it up please.”

“AR, buddy, you’re scaring me,” Ajax says, but does as he’s instructed. “What are we do—what the hell?”

Beneath the cushion is a little square panel built into the sofa’s frame with a little loop of fabric attached. Ajax’s doesn’t need to be told what to do next; he bends down and yanks the panel up by the fabric handle.

Underneath the cover is a small, square space filled with a folded note and the sight of a very familiar small wooden fox figurine.

“Holy shit…” Ajax mutters. He takes the fox figurine out and holds it up. He can see all the little notches and uneven cuts into the wood. Handmade, but he knows that already.

“The note.”

Ajax jumps. “Oh, yeah, sorry, AR. I’ll look at that.”

He sets the fox carefully on the ground and grabs the note.

Dark, spidery writing that he recognizes as OG Tartaglia’s writing fills the space. It takes a few seconds for Ajax to squint and make sense of the writing because the penmanship is so…shaky and awful. It’s almost as if the person writing it had barely been able to hold the pen properly, judging by all the dark blotches bleeding onto the page.

When he does clue in on what it says, he feels his heart drop to his stomach.

A page full of ‘sorry’s like another of the notes he had uncovered. In this note, however, there’s more to it.

Sorry Master Skirk, Sorry Master Skirk, I failed I failed I failed, I killed, I lost control, I killed – didn’t mean to kill him – was my only friend – lost control – sorry Master Skirk Sorrysorrysorrysorry—

A window pops up from thin air and words begin to appear, but this time, they are not accompanied by AR’s voice.

“Traces of Tartaglia (2) You have found some of Tartaglia’s hidden objects in your quest to discover more information about Tartaglia. You have found some important information about Tartaglia’s childhood. Continue your search to discover Tartaglia’s link with the Abyss. Complete.

“You have found the last of Tartaglia’s hidden objects and have seen his pas—”

The words begin to warp and glitch and flicker, switching from random letters and numbers like symbols blurring on a slot machine. Ajax flinches back on instinct and watches with terrified eyes as the letters then start to delete themselves one by one as if someone is pressing backspace on the keyboard.

It stops when only “Traces of” remains on the window with the cursor blinking slowly.

Then, new letters begin to appear, one by one.

“Traces of – W H A T  D I D  Y O U  L E A R N ?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Ajax exclaims. “What the fuck did I learn? I don’t even know what the hell is going on, let alone learn anything! AR? AR, you’re not controlling this, are you? AR?”

Ajax is about to start shouting for AR again when that soothing chime sounds out once more.

“You won’t understand that question,” AR says, his voice tight even through the mechanical filter. “Because that question is not for you. It’s for me.”