Volume 5 – Chapter 155(Departure)
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Author Note:
[ ] = When Twilight is speaking.
{ } = When talking through Telepathy.
' ' = When thinking in your mind.
<< >> = When talking with your Pokémon or Tamed Beast.
--- --- = When describing a certain period OR Another place.
** ** = Point Of View, i.e., POV
/// /// = In Call
" " = System, and when talking to it.
「 」 = Thoughts being heard
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---Pet, City of Teyvat—
A day went by.
Yet for the world nestled within Primis's pocket universe, it might as well have been a century.
At the very north of the newly-forged City of Teyvat, the earth stirred—not with violence, but with solemn grace. The ground trembled gently, as though bowing to the weight of memory. And then, from its core, a platform of black stone rose skyward, silent and reverent, like the earth itself wished to offer a tribute.
Around the platform, wide stairways spiraled like arms outstretched in mourning, guiding the footsteps of any who dared ascend—not to celebrate, but to weep, to remember.
At the summit of this altar of grief stood a colossal monument, forged of obsidian so pure it seemed to swallow the light around it. Its surface gleamed, dark and endless, a reflection of the sky above and the sorrow below. Upon it were etched names—thousands upon thousands, painstakingly carved by unseen hands, each one immortalized in stone.
This was no tomb. It was a memory made flesh, a sanctuary for the souls that had bled and broken in the cataclysmic war that tore through Mondstadt, Liyue, and Inazuma.
It was Primis who built this place.
Not out of obligation. Not out of guilt.
But because he knew—if he did not, no one else could.
The monument was not only for those who perished in fire and blood. It was for the ones who still walked among the living, burdened with the weight of survival. It was for the unborn, who would one day walk these lands and see these names, and remember the cost of peace.
Now, at the base of this great spire of loss, Primis stood alone.
His Blue Rinne eyes, vast as galaxies and calm as still waters, gazed upward. Though hundreds of thousands of names adorned the surface, his gaze settled on the three engraved at the very top—names that now belonged to legend:
Anemo Archon – Barbatos.
Geo Archon – Morax.
Electro Archon – Raiden Shogun.
Of them, his eyes lingered longest on Raiden Shogun. Ei.
Though his expression remained still—a mask of serenity, unshaken as the heavens themselves—deep within, his mind was a theater of flickering memories. Short, quiet moments. Unspoken words. The hesitant warmth between two beings who should have been enemies, yet somehow… weren't.
He remembered her eyes—piercing and skeptical when they first met. The tension in her stance. The divine caution she carried.
She had labeled him an enemy.
And yet, in order to meet her revived Sister, she gathered her courage and she finally dared to stand before him.
As a result, of the three Archons, Ei became the closest. Not through war or power, but through that one step.
He had not fought. He had refused to lift a hand, knowing that his intervention would render the war meaningless. And so he watched as she smiled at him one last time, lying in a bed of Lycoris flowers, her purple hair spread like a halo, the warmth of her final breath brushing the air between them.
And now, that smile lived only in his memory.
A soft sob pulled him from his thoughts.
Paimon—the tiny fairy who had once burst from the waters of Mondstadt, laughing and curious—now clung to him with trembling arms. Her small frame shook with the weight of grief far too large for her heart to carry.
She had been with Primis and Lumine since the beginning. They were her world. Her family. And now, with Lumine away to find her strength anew, it was only Primis left to hold her.
She didn't know the names on the stone. Not all of them. But she knew loss, and that was enough.
Her cries were raw. Childlike. Not just for the dead—but for the future they had taken with them.
Primis said nothing. But his hand moved gently, again and again, brushing through her soft hair. Comfort without words. Presence without promise.
Behind him, stationed at the edge of the platform, were his Seven Knights.
Clad in full silver armor from head to toe, they stood like statues forged in grief. Their blue capes fluttered in the breeze, the only sign that they still lived beneath their hollow steel.
Jean Gunnhildr. Lisa Minci. Kaeya Alberich. Diluc Ragnvindr. Amber. Eula Lawrence. Albedo.
Their helmets masked their tears, but Primis could feel them—grief radiated from their souls like a storm waiting to break.
They did not speak. They did not move. But in their silence was the story of a nation broken.
Mondstadt had suffered the worst.
Of all the cities, of the three nations, it was Mondstadt that bore the deepest scars. Only a handful of survivors remained—perhaps twenty, perhaps thirty. Enough to count on one's hands. And these seven, once heroes, now stood as mourners in armor, hiding their vulnerability beneath the metal to fail to protect what mattered most.
Below the platform, surrounding the monument like petals around a flower, stood the last remnants of the world. Survivors from Liyue, Mondstadt, and Inazuma—once proud, now hollow.
Faces were lifted to the black stone above, and tears poured like rivers long dammed.
Barbara Pegg clung to Rosaria, sobbing uncontrollably as the name of Barbatos shone in the light. Her god. Her guide. Gone.
Xiangling, normally so full of life, cried into her father's arms. Her hands shook as they reached toward the name of Guoba, her dear companion who had burned himself away to save her.
Ganyu and Shenhe stood in silence, heads bowed low. Their guardian, Cloud Retainer, was gone. And around them, Moon Carver, Mountain Shaper, and Madame Ping carried the sorrow of immortals—having lived through too many wars, but never one so final.
The name of Xiao, carved in sharp lines beneath Morax, carved through the hearts of those who knew him.
Nearby, Keqing, Hu Tao, Ningguang, and Yelan each stood alone, yet bound by the same regret. For all their power, money, wisdom, and will—they could not stop the tide.
And then there was Inazuma.
Kujou Sara stood with her head down, blood trickling from her bitten lips. Her fists clenched so tightly her gauntlets groaned. She had failed her Shogun. That was the truth she could not run from.
Beside her, Yae Miko, Ayato, Ayaka, and Kokomi bore the same wound. Strength. Armies. Strategies. All of it—useless in the end. Raiden Shogun had fallen.
And they were powerless to change that.
No one stepped forward to say "It will be alright."
Because it wouldn't.
No one spoke of moving on.
Because no one could.
The dead were dead. Their voices silenced. Their stories ended.
But the pain they left behind? That would endure.
And yet, there was one among them who could undo it all.
With a single breath, a flicker of will, Primis could bring them all back. He could make the monument vanish, make the tears stop, make the world whole.
But he would not.
He had already created the Cycle of Reincarnation—a gift, a curse, a choice.
If the dead were meant to return, they would. In time. In another life. Not here. Not now.
He had said it once.
He had helped enough.
So now, he stood there. Silent. Eternal. Letting them grieve.
He would not speak false hope.
He would not lie to ease the ache.
He would simply be, for a while longer.
Then he would leave, and let them mourn as long as they needed.
For the monument was not built for resurrection.
It was built for remembrance.
And it would stand here, in the center of this new Teyvat, forever—a pillar of sorrow, a sanctuary of memory, a reminder that even gods could fall… and still be loved.
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The Night Came.
The last rays of the sun faded beneath the edge of the world, and the mourning city below finally began to quiet. People who had stayed at the foot of the black monument slowly drifted away, returning to their homes, carrying with them the weight of the names carved in stone and the silent ache of loss. Those who lingered did so not out of obligation—but because leaving felt like turning away from those who had given everything.
Above all of them, floating higher than clouds, higher than mountains or the tallest spires, was an island untouched by sorrow or war—a sanctuary built for two. It was small, almost unassuming, yet it existed in a space so far removed from the rest of the world that it felt like time itself hesitated to move here.
This was the home of Primis, the Ruler of Three Realms, and his Empress, the Dragon of Infinity—Ophis.
The stars shimmered dimly overhead, but they were nothing compared to the radiance of the two beings who now shared a moment of silent eternity.
They sat by the edge of a crystal-clear pond that mirrored the sky above, the water undisturbed except for the gentle play of Ophis's feet. Her pale legs were immersed in the water, her toes fluttering, and around them danced clusters of multi-colored fish, gathering like worshippers around a deity, their scales glinting like gems. They pressed against her skin lovingly, drawn to her presence, but Ophis didn't acknowledge them. Her gaze, unwavering and deep, was fixed solely on the man whose head rested gently on her lap.
Primis. Her Emperor. Her Husband. Her everything.
His eyes were closed, and his breath was even, but Ophis could see the pain that rippled beneath the surface of his calm expression. She ran her fingers through his hair—those strands of stark white and abyssal black, the duality of creation and destruction made flesh. Her movements were slow, reverent, as if she feared she might break something sacred if she pressed too hard.
Her voice, when it came, was soft. Softer than a whisper. Softer than the wind.
Ophis: Are you tired?
The entire world paused.
The wind stopped its breath. The leaves ceased their rustling. The fish stilled in the water. Even the stars above seemed to dim, leaning in to listen.
Such was the weight of Ophis's voice, unfiltered now. For once, neither she nor Primis suppressed their divine aura or charm. There was no need. Here, together, there was no need. And because of that, the sheer majesty of their existence now radiated freely—beauty and presence so immense that any lesser being would have been reduced to awe-struck stillness. Universe-topping beauty, they once joked. But even that title fell short of describing them. They were higher-dimensional existences, beyond limits, beyond mortality. Their very presence was poetry made real.
Primis opened his eyes slightly, the faint glow of his blue Rinne gaze catching the moonlight.
Primis: No.
His answer came calmly. But Ophis's fingers never stopped moving through his hair.
Ophis: I'm not asking about your body. I meant your heart.
He was silent for a moment, then answered without opening his eyes again.
Primis: It's fine. WE know… we'll meet again. One day. This is just the price of time—WE need to learn to live with it.
Ophis: How long will it take?
Primis: A night's rest... should be enough.
At that, a small, beautiful laugh escaped her lips—light and crystalline, like bells in the wind.
Ophis: Didn't you just say you're not tired?
Primis: ...WE suppose.
She smiled, and that smile could have stopped time itself.
Ophis: Then rest, my love. I will never leave you. I'll stay by your side, always. In life. In death. In all things, and in all realms.
Primis: …Mn.
With that simple acknowledgment, the last of his strength faded, and he finally allowed himself to drift into deep sleep. Here, in the arms of the one he trusted and loved above all else, he could surrender the burden he carried, if only for a while. Sleep—at least for beings like him—wasn't necessity. It was escape. A salve for the pain that nothing else could ease.
As the moonlight bathed them in silver, Ophis kept her eyes on his sleeping face, her fingers moving gently through his hair like waves upon a quiet shore. Her gaze was full of warmth. Of boundless, infinite love.
In her heart, a quiet thought stirred.
'Ophis: To think you'd someone like her in this world.'
She knew the truth now—Primis had shared almost all of himself with her. His joys, his pain, his journey. Everything… except for his System and Twilight. But it was enough. She understood why Ei, the Raiden Shogun, had left such a deep mark on his soul. The woman who once opposed him… had shown him a reflection of who he once was. Perhaps, that's why she reached so deeply into his heart.
Ophis turned her head and gazed down through layers of clouds, through barriers of magic and space, to the City of Teyvat far below. The plaza where the monument stood was now empty. The sorrow had settled into silence. Her eyes focused on a single name etched near the top of that great black stone—Ei.
Then, she shifted her gaze to the towering figure in the center of the city—the Sacred Sakura.
The tree had grown massive now, stretching a hundred kilometers high, its branches blanketing the city like a sky-born canopy. Even the tree seemed mournful tonight. It remembered who had raised it, nurtured it. The twin stars—Ei and Makoto—were gone.
Ophis's voice was a whisper on the wind.
Ophis: We will meet in far future, Ei… Makoto.
Then she looked back at Primis, her Emperor, still sleeping peacefully on her lap, and let time fall away. She asked nothing more from the night. She needed no comfort, no answers.
She had him.
And he had her.
That was enough.
And so, in the silence of the heavens, beneath a thousand stars, the Empress of Infinity sat with her sleeping Emperor and watched over him—not as a goddess, nor a ruler—but as the one who loved him more deeply than any force in creation.
Forever.
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The Next Day.
Space twisted.
A quiet rupture echoed through the sky as reality bent itself, folding inward before releasing a pulse of silent energy. From that distortion, Primis emerged.
Suspended above the earth, his cloak billowing behind him in still air that hadn't yet dared to breathe, he looked down—his Blue Rinne eyes reflecting the shattered remains of what once was Mondstadt.
But Mondstadt no longer existed.
What lay below was not a city. It wasn't even ruin.
It was obliteration.
The once-lively fields were now lifeless plains of cracked, barren earth, scarred by deep fissures that glowed faintly with a sickly blue energy—lingering remnants of unnatural forces. Dragonspine, once proud and glacially majestic, had collapsed into itself, its jagged remains strewn like bones across the land.
The Cider Lake, once a place of beauty and warmth, had been reduced to a toxic basin of steaming, dark sludge. What hadn't evaporated now bubbled ominously, like the world was still choking on what it had witnessed.
But the most haunting spectacle wasn't on the ground.
It was in the sky.
An eternal hurricane ravaged the heavens—winds so sharp and fast they carved the clouds themselves. This was no ordinary storm. This was the product of a divine clash. A clash between the Wind Archon Barbatos and THE CURSE.
The storm roared like a wailing god, sweeping across the broken landscape with destructive indifference. Any who dared to enter it would be torn apart—not just body, but soul.
Mondstadt had become uninhabitable. A memory in torment.
Primis stood unmoving, and with a breath as still as death, he vanished into space once more.
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A flash of light, and he reappeared—now high above Liyue.
If Mondstadt was ruin, Liyue was apocalypse.
The land had split in two, the dividing line stretching across the region like a scar carved by the gods themselves.
To the north, an abyss of ice.
The ocean had frozen solid, transforming into a jagged, glassy expanse where entire fleets were entombed. The mountains wept frost, their peaks splintered into deadly icicles. The air shimmered with a pale fog that bit with each breath—a cold so deep it silenced even time.
To the south, it was as if the underworld had risen.
Lava surged from broken canyons, rivers of fire cascading down the ridges of shattered mountains. The sky burned orange. Winds of ash and embers howled like dying dragons, igniting forests and towns alike until nothing remained but smoldering ruin.
This cataclysm was the result of an impossible battle—Morax, the Geo Archon, and the Dragon Serpent, clashing with such force that the land itself broke beneath them.
No one survived.
No one could.
Even the Geo pillars once erected by Morax to shield the harbor now stood half-melted, half-frozen—silent, defeated monuments to a god who gave everything.
Primis didn't speak. Without turning his head, he vanished again.
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Then came Inazuma.
Or what was left of it.
Primis arrived, but there was no land to stand upon. Not a single island remained. The entire archipelago had sunk, leaving behind an endless, empty ocean.
But this sea… was not serene.
Above it, the sky churned in a tempest of divine wrath.
Dark clouds, as thick as mountains, crackled violently with raw electro energy. Thunder boomed endlessly, the soundless gaps between strikes narrowing with every pulse until it became one continuous scream of the heavens.
Bolts of lightning rained from the sky like spears of judgment, crashing into the water in monstrous explosions. Every inch of the ocean was electrified, volatile, and filled with death.
This was no natural storm.
This was the aftermath of Raiden Ei's final stand—her battle with Bahamut.
Inazuma had ceased to exist.
And now, only the thunder mourned.
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Three nations.
Three Archons.
Three cataclysms.
All lost.
The gods had fallen. Their enemies with them. But their worlds—Teyvat—bled for their sacrifice.
Only four nations remained.
Four fragile flames, flickering in the dark.
Would they withstand what was coming?
Or would they too become ashes scattered across the wind?
Primis turned his gaze to the horizon, and without a word, disappeared once more.
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Next, he appeared high in the sky—above all of Teyvat.
The wind dared not stir. The clouds stood still. Even the light seemed to hold its breath.
From that unimaginable height, Primis looked down upon the war-torn, fractured lands below. His blue Rinne eyes reflected everything that was happening down.
Then, he raised his left hand.
In an instant, seven radiant lights surged outward, spiraling into motion around his arm. They danced like celestial bodies, then gradually slowed, revealing their true forms: The Seven Gnosis—powerful symbols of divine authority, each pulsing with the elemental resonance of its fallen or imprisoned Archon.
These were not ordinary Gnosis.
They were the ones granted to him by the Will of the World when he traversed into the future—a timeline in which every Archon had perished and the world had collapsed into void.
The Will had entrusted him since their owners were no more.
Suddenly, four Gnosis began to shine: Dendro, Hydro, Pyro, and Cryo.
Each glowed brilliantly, trembling with restrained energy—until in a flash, four divine beams of light shot out in four cardinal directions, arcing across the war-torn sky like comets falling home.
Their destinations:
Sumeru
Fontaine
Natlan
Snezhnaya
Within those beams were not just power—but people. Archons, sealed away long ago.
When Primis had begun collecting the fundamental laws needed to construct the Cycle of Reincarnation, the natural balance of Teyvat had been disrupted. Tremors ran through the leylines. Oceans stirred. Skies wept blood. The world felt the shift—and the Archons responded.
Venti, Zhongli, and Ei had once stood before him. They recognized him. And though confused, they stepped aside, unwilling to strike a being they once knew. But the remaining four—who had never met him—fought back. They gathered their forces and sought to stop what they could not understand.
In response, Primis sealed them—along with their most loyal subordinates—into the future Gnosis.
Now, as he prepared to leave, he set them free.
Fortunately, he had already given the Will of the World a command: Delay Phase I of the Planar War in those nations. That way, when the Archons returned, they wouldn't awaken to smoldering ruins and desolation.
The Will, ever-loyal to him, obeyed without question.
Once he confirmed that each Gnosis—and each Archon—had reached their proper place, Primis slowly lowered his left hand.
Then, he raised his right.
Three remaining lights emerged—Anemo, Geo, and Electro—the remnants of the fallen gods. These Gnosis carried the final wills of Barbatos, Morax, and Raiden Ei—each of whom, in their final moments, had entrusted these tokens to him… not as offerings, but as thank yous. For saving the last fragments of their people when all else was lost.
He had no use for these now as he already had the Gnosis of the future, and with his strength he could forge countless, each stronger than the last with a mere thought. But power was not his concern.
Without hesitation, he released the three Gnosis into the sky, where they streaked like falling stars—towards Snezhnaya.
Back in Mondstadt, when he had crossed paths with La Signora. They had struck a pact: the Fatui Harbingers would assist Mondstadt in eliminating one of the future's most dangerous enemies—a Shape-Shifting Spider-Monster—and in return, he would ensure Barbatos relinquished his Gnosis.
But fate had intervened.
Lumine eliminated the creature before the plan could unfold, rendering the deal moot.
Yet Primis, seeing no purpose in retaining these relics of fallen gods, chose to send them anyway. Not out of obligation—but perhaps... out of quiet respect.
??? ...Prince.
The word drifted across space like a whisper.
Primis's eyes narrowed. He turned his gaze to a hidden pocket of the world, a cloaked region untouched by ruin.
There, in a dim underground hall, stood a blonde boy, his features strikingly familiar.
Aether.
He was surrounded by subordinates, urgently issuing commands. His face was composed, firm… but Primis could see the fear behind his eyes. The desperation of a brother whose world was collapsing around him.
Aether had deployed nearly his entire force to one task: Find Lumine.
And Lumine… had been too caught in war, too swept up in destruction, to begin the search herself.
The siblings, once separated by choice—to grow, to prepare—had now become divided by necessity.
Watching in silence, Primis sent a voice transmission, a single whisper that echoed across dimensions and landed directly in Aether's heart.
The moment it touched him, Aether froze. His men watched in confusion as their Prince slowly stepped away from his command throne, walked forward—and dropped to one knee.
Gratitude.
Relief.
Understanding.
He didn't know where Primis stood. He didn't need to.
But now, he knew that Lumine was safe—protected by the very being who held the threads of life and death itself.
After all…
What place could be safer than at the side of the Eternal Netherworld Emperor?
Primis watched in silence, then nodded once, barely perceptible.
He turned his gaze away.
Primis: Now… only one thing remains.
The moment the words left his lips, space behind him cracked—a jagged tear across the fabric of the sky.
Without hesitation, he stepped into it, his form swallowed by the void.
And just like that—
Primis vanished.
From Teyvat.
From this world.
Where he would go next… No one knows.
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---Celestia---
500 Years Ago
The sky stretched in a canvas of brilliant blue, scattered with pillowy white clouds and faint wisps of wind-blown trails. Shafts of sunlight cascaded through the heavens, illuminating the endless spires that towered into the firmament. Everything shimmered with an ethereal brilliance—an eternal realm untouched by mortal time.
Massive ivory columns and elegant, sky-bound archways formed a grand celestial palace, suspended among the clouds. The structures gleamed under the divine light, their pristine white stone carved with ancient sigils that glowed faintly with latent power. Wisps of clouds gently rolled beneath the floating walkways, lending the whole expanse a dreamlike, hallowed tranquility. It was a place that radiated divinity, judgment, and fate.
At the heart of this sanctuary, upon a radiant platform, two figures suddenly appeared—Aether and Lumine, twin travelers from beyond the stars. With golden hair that gleamed like the sun and garments touched by cosmic dust, the two stood silently. Their faces bore solemn expressions—this place was sacred, and they had not arrived here by choice.
They spoke briefly in hushed voices, concern and urgency in their tone. Just as they turned to leave, a sudden shatter tore through space itself. A crack formed in mid-air, reality distorting with an audible hum. And from the rift emerged a figure that halted them in their tracks.
She descended like judgment incarnate.
A woman of overwhelming presence, her long silver-white hair defied gravity, flowing as though suspended in cosmic wind. Her golden eyes glowed with divine authority, radiating a chilling calmness—precise, merciless. She wore an immaculate white bodysuit adorned with black and gold sacred motifs. A long cloak, crimson like the blood of stars, fluttered behind her, dusted with starlight and glimmering like the night sky. Each movement of hers rippled with power.
She was no mere deity—she was a sovereign of order, a force of cosmic law.
???: Outlanders, your journey ends here.
The twins instinctively took battle stances, tense and alert.
Lumine: Who are you?
???: The Sustainer of Heavenly Principles... The arrogation of mankind ends now.
A geometric cube materialized in her hand, glowing with ancient energy. In a flash, a massive construct formed beneath the twins. They leapt aside just in time, golden wings unfurling from their backs, and luminous swords appeared in their hands. Without hesitation, they launched themselves toward the Sustainer.
She remained unmoved.
With a slight gesture, countless cubes erupted around her, shooting toward the twins like divine missiles. The sky became a battleground of celestial geometry. Aether and Lumine wove between the columns and attacks with elegance and urgency, looking for an opening. They split paths and struck from two sides.
BOOM!
An explosion rocked the heavens, smoke and dust billowing across the platform. As it cleared—she still stood there. Unscathed. Her hand raised casually, an invisible wall holding their blades midair, frozen in place.
Aether's weapon was suddenly wrapped in golden cubes. He released it just in time and retreated. Lumine wasn't so fortunate—before she could react, the cubes engulfed her completely.
Aether: Lumine!
Her eyes reached out to his in distress before she was sealed within a glowing construct and drawn into the Sustainer's hand. Aether's grief turned into rage. He surged forward, his sword of energy blazing, unleashing all his power in a final strike.
BOOOOM!
Debris rained down. His breath came heavy as the smoke cleared—but his attack had been caught. An array of cubes, fused together, held him in place. A final command from the Sustainer, and they consumed him.
Aether: Wait! Don't go! Give my sister back!
His cries echoed into the void as he too was sealed.
The Sustainer had crushed both outlanders without moving an inch. She held the sealed cube of Lumine for a moment, her gaze unreadable, then tucked it away. With her purpose fulfilled, she turned to leave—until she stopped.
Someone now stood where the twins had been moments ago.
A tall figure cloaked in black and white robes. His long dual-toned hair whipped in a direction opposite the wind, as if the laws of nature bent around him. His back was to the Sustainer, his eyes fixed on the endless Celestial horizon.
For the first time, her expression faltered.
Without words, she raised her hand to summon her cubes, intent on ending the intruder swiftly. But before the cubes reached him, a windstorm burst forth—silent, fierce, and absolute. The cubes shattered into motes of light.
Then, beside him, a new figure appeared: a blonde-haired woman clad in thin armor, her golden eyes sharp and unwavering.
Primis: Step back, Ais… WE want to give this opportunity to someone else.
Hearing this, Ais Wallenstein, his Sword Princess, nodded respectfully and moved back.
Primis: Instead of her...
He glanced at the Sustainer, his gaze like a storm restrained.
Primis: WE have an opponent just for you, Sustainer of Heavenly Principles… Come, OUR Herrscher of the Void.
A spatial rift tore open beside them.
From it stepped out a woman, radiant and fearsome. Her long silver-white hair fanned behind her like a comet's tail. Her golden eyes burned with destructive power, her presence crackling with tension.
She wore a sleek, high-tech armor of white, black, and violet, with glowing veins of void energy. Her gauntlet pulsed ominously, the golden core at its center radiating destruction. Wing-like blade constructs floated behind her, brilliant with white and orange light, twitching with barely restrained might. Shadowy ribbons drifted around her, unraveling in the pull of her gravity.
The moment she arrived, Celestia trembled.
The air turned heavy, the light dimmed, and even the Sustainer instinctively stepped back. She had never felt such pressure before—not in this timeless place, not in countless cycles.
This was not a being of balance.
This was a Goddess of annihilation.
Sustainer of the Heavenly Principle: Just… who are you?
But her eyes weren't on the Herrscher—they were on Primis. She recognized him as the conductor of this divine transgression.
Primis: You don't need to know.
His next words fell like thunder:
Primis: Capture her.
Herrscher of the Void: As you wish.
She took a single step forward, eyes locked on the Sustainer.
The final battle of this world was about to begin—between the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles and the Herrscher of the Void.
A battle that would shake even the heavens above.
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The moment was still. Then—
BOOM.
The heavens trembled.
Knowing the situation could not be resolved through words alone, the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles extended her hand. The sky above Celestia darkened, and reality itself trembled as colossal golden cubes materialized in orbit around her. With a flick of her fingers, they launched forward like divine meteors, ripping the heavens open with each movement.
Across from her, the Herrscher of the Void remained eerily calm. No tension, no expression. Only purpose.
TICK!
A sharp snap echoed like a divine metronome, and in an instant, dozens of space-time wormholes bloomed open across the sky — their edges glowing with fractal patterns of quantum distortions. The cubes vanished, absorbed effortlessly.
The Sustainer narrowed her eyes.
As the wormholes faded, the Sustainer's body was no longer where it once hovered. In the same breath, a dark void tore itself open behind the Herrscher — an attack from a blind spot.
SHRRAAK—!
A massive cube barreled out, gleaming with golden fury, but it was consumed again, sucked into the same void which then reopened in front of the Herrscher. The cube surged forward and collided with the divine columns of Celestia, obliterating them in a radiant eruption.
The Herrscher's eye shifted, tracking the Sustainer's movement behind her without turning her head.
Sustainer remained stoic — this outcome was expected. She knew from the beginning this battle would not be won so easily.
Suddenly, a lance made of voidlight and dimensional fracture, one of the many floating behind the Herrscher, surged forward like a comet of entropy. The Sustainer raised her hand, and an invisible gravitational force halted it mid-flight. But then, against expectation — it pushed forward. It resisted the Sustainer's will.
The air screamed. The lance cracked reality as it forced its way free from the Sustainer's grasp. She narrowed her eyes, and twisted away just as the lance exploded past her — destroying several marble columns and floating platforms in its wake, disintegrating them to cosmic dust.
Before she could regroup, the air warped.
The Sustainer suddenly froze mid-flight.
Not by choice.
The entire space compressed against her like an invisible cage of celestial mass. She felt the universe itself fold inwards. Around her, the very foundations of Celestia shattered. Dozens of divine columns broke loose from their resting places and accelerated toward her from every direction — divine weapons, born from godly architecture.
Each of these celestial constructs was forged in the heart of Teyvat's axis, tougher than any material known to man or god.
Still, the Sustainer remained calm.
Her eyes began to glow with a light that cut through dimensions themselves. The columns, mere moments from impact, suddenly crumbled into dust. Erased from existence.
Flexing her will, she broke free of the space-binding field — folding back into her original stance.
But the Herrscher had already moved.
Around the Sustainer, thousands of glowing dimensional rifts opened — ring after ring, layered upon themselves like the petals of a cosmic lotus. From each, a surge of raw, primal energy shot forth — violet, gold, black — reality-warping heat and pressure so intense the void warped and wept from their presence.
Entire patches of space buckled. Gravitational constants failed. The divine sky of Celestia cracked with each blast.
The Sustainer answered — her own cubes flaring to life in concentric rings, intercepting the barrage in a symmetrical counterattack.
BOOM!
BOOM!!!
KRRAAAAAAAM!!!
The heavens detonated.
Celestia — the realm of gods — became a maelstrom of destruction. Shockwaves turned entire floating districts to rubble. Melted stone, vaporized crystal, ruined sanctuaries of the divine — all bore the scars of their conflict. Any Archon, any lesser god, any mortal, would have been annihilated a thousand times over in the crossfire.
Yet amid this chaos, Sustainer stood unscathed — until:
CRACK!
A single cube broke apart. The Sustainer's eyes flicked.
SHIIIN!
She shifted — barely.
A spear shot past her cheek. A fine red line traced her skin — the first mark.
Hidden within the barrage... one of the Herrscher's spears.
CRACK!
CRACK!
More cubes broke. More spears tore toward her through the debris and molten ruin.
This time, the Sustainer didn't stay. A rift opened behind her — she vanished into it, and the spears collided with nothing but collapsing air.
From afar, the Herrscher watched, her eyes emotionless as dust, debris, and light veiled everything in front of her. To the naked eye, nothing could be seen.
But she was not relying on sight.
Suddenly — a portal behind her.
A hand reached out.
SLAP!
Her own hand met it in the same breath. She turned her head for the first time in ages.
A cube was left behind — it glowed.
BOOOOOM!!!
A singularity-level explosion tore through the skies. Celestia shook. The foundations — ancient, eternal — trembled like leaves in a storm.
The Sustainer reappeared from her portal, face neutral. She waved her hand once, and the smoke dispersed instantly, parted by an invisible force.
But the Herrscher was no longer there.
Her gaze shifted, and she spotted her far in the distance.
'Sustainer of the Heavenly Principles: Teleportation… But there was no spatial fluctuation… nothing.'
The Sustainer narrowed her eyes. Unlike her portals, Herrscher seemed to phase through space itself — instantaneous and traceless.
'Sustainer of Heavenly Principles: That could be troublesome.'
SNAP.
The Sustainer's fingers echoed through the dead sky.
WUMMM!
Suddenly, all space in the region locked. The universe froze — even time seemed to halt for a nanosecond. A dimensional cage surrounded the battlefield — suppressing spatial manipulation entirely.
The Herrscher's eyes narrowed.
SNAP.
She retaliated in kind — adding her own layer of spatial lockdown over the first. Space became iron. Not even gods could move within it freely. If an Archon were caught inside, they would remain frozen forever.
Yet both Sustainer and Herrscher moved.
Because they transcended such laws.
No longer able to teleport, the Herrscher raised her hand — her spears unraveled into streams of dark ribbons, each writhing with entropy.
The Sustainer created new cubes — rotating, sharpening — and launched her own barrage.
SHINK!
WHIRRR!
CRAACK!
Ribbons and cubes collided in a dazzling ballet of divine weaponry. But neither combatant flinched. They danced through the hailstorm — not just dodging but predicting. Every move was made with omniscient awareness, reflexes carved from battles that spanned galaxies.
The Battle continues.
.
.
Months later.
Celestia, the once-mythical domain that loomed in the skies, was no longer recognizable. Its golden spires and pristine sanctuaries lay in ruins. Islands drifted aimlessly, torn free from their anchors. The stars above were dim, the very firmament scarred by power no world was meant to contain.
And still, above the wreckage floated two figures — unbowed, unbloodied, unshaken.
The Sustainer of the Heavenly Principles.
The Herrscher of the Void.
They had been fighting for months. Countless strikes exchanged. Unending loops of destruction and rebirth. Battles that could decimate star systems, all for the smallest tactical edge.
Yet neither was harmed.
Neither was even breathing heavily.
Such was their level.
Finally, the Sustainer spoke — her voice calm, ancient, resonant.
Sustainer of the Heavenly Principles: Do you still intend to continue?
The Herrscher didn't reply. She stared — silent. Cold.
Then — light.
A portal of pure light exploded in front of the Sustainer. Her form tensed — preparing. But when the glow faded… her pupils contracted.
She was no longer in Celestia.
This… was not Teyvat.
There was no sun. No warmth. Giant rocks floated in void. Even Celestia here was twisted — a cathedral of stone and desolation.
The Sustainer's voice, quiet but grim.
Sustainer of the Heavenly Principles: ...A Domain.
To be more precise, an Imaginary Dimension.
The Herrscher's creation. A false reality under her absolute control. In here, the laws of time and space bent to her will. Even existence itself could be erased with a thought.
The Sustainer understood instantly: the spatial lock from earlier had been weakened by their prolonged battle. The Herrscher had been waiting — waiting for the moment to strike.
The moment to drag her here.
Still — no time to dwell. Cubes of warped space and drills of voidlight surged toward her. The Sustainer raised her hands — divine cubes answered.
She prepared to retaliate—
However, the Herrscher was no longer here.
In truth, she had already left the domain seconds after the Sustainer entered.
And then — in an act that would terrify even gods — she crushed her own world.
The Imaginary Dimension — her weapon, her home — shattered.
From the outside, a star ignited.
From the inside… the Sustainer felt something worse than pain.
A singularity of collapse swallowed everything.
.
.
.
.
While the stars above burned in agony, while dimensions folded and tore as the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles clashed in an all-consuming war with the Herrscher of the Void, far below the cataclysm, Primis stood motionless.
He did not look up.
Instead, he stared through the world—through Teyvat, through time, through fate—as though all of it were nothing but fog on glass.
A storm of divinities raged across the sky, where every second birthed a new apocalypse. Star-level detonations ruptured the atmosphere, breaking the firmament like glass under pressure. The sky wept streaks of cosmic flame as constellations were torn from their sockets, thrown like blades.
And yet…
Primis did not so much as blink.
For one such as him—one who had ascended beyond dimensional constraints, who had stepped outside causality and returned laughing—this battle was a child's tantrum. An ornamental display, meaningless.
Behind him stood Ais, her silver gaze resting on the fractured skyline, her posture poised like a blade unsheathed yet patient. She stood not as the thunder behind the silence, a being of stillness too honed to be called peace.
This Teyvat was not his Teyvat.
No, this was a dead echo, a parallel offshoot of the world he once passed through—a reflection condemned from birth. In this branch of the Planar Stream, it was Aether, not Lumine, who had fallen into slumber at the Sustainer's hand.
And this world, 500 years from now, would burn.
It was already written in the bones of time.
In the Planar War to come, this realm would not rise—it would be erased, reduced to conceptual dust in a conflict that spanned not timelines, but entire ontologies.
So Primis walked through it like a phantom in a museum of dying stars, collecting relics, memories, knowledge—anything that caught his whim. Who would stop him? This was a cursed world, and he was its final audience.
And then—
Reality shivered behind him.
A tear opened, without thunder, without sound—because the absence of sound was more fitting.
From it stepped the Herrscher of the Void.
The very air around her fractured under the pressure of her presence. She walked forward across nothingness, each step cracking the rules of motion, until she stood five paces from him.
She knelt.
Head bowed.
Arm extended.
Floating just above her hand was a cube—a spatial singularity, compressed into perfect geometry, each face etched with symbols from forgotten logics. It radiated both stillness and terror, like a black hole that dreamed.
The cube lifted from her hand and drifted, reverent, into Primis's.
He looked at it.
Within floated the form of the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles—bound by chains that coiled like mathematical impossibilities, forged from stabilized paradox. Her eyes were closed. Her form flickered. Small wounds—mere scratches to her, but impossible nonetheless—marked her body.
She had been brought low.
Not defeated.
Just... quieted.
Primis showed no reaction.
He had foreseen this.
A being of his scope had already lived this moment a thousand ways before choosing this one as optimal. Probability and destiny bent for him like iron under divine flame.
He closed his hand.
The cube vanished.
The Herrscher stood, silently, then slipped into the subspace behind him, disappearing like a thought at the edge of wakefulness.
Primis gazed down at the world again, and this time… spoke.
Primis: It's time to leave.
Next, the space behind him folded inward, collapsing into itself like a dying idea, and opened as a tunnel of collapsing time-layers, rippling with memory, prophecy, and silence.
Primis turned once—only once—offering this decaying realm a final glance.
Not in regret.
Not even amusement.
Just acknowledgment.
He stepped into the rift.
Ais followed, silent.
And the tunnel closed.
With this, the Journey of Primis on Genshin Impact World came to an end… for now.
However, when he will return in future…
He will not walk.
He will descend.
And reality itself will ask: Who dares to look upon him?
But that was in the Far Future.
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*A/N: And that's it. Hello, dear readers!
Author here. With this, Volume 5 has officially come to an end. Honestly, I never expected this volume to stretch beyond 150 chapters—I originally planned to wrap it up around 100. But as you might guess, the ideas just kept flowing, and the story kept growing!
I want to sincerely thank each and every one of you for your continued support. Your encouragement, feedback, and enthusiasm mean the world to me, and I'm truly grateful to have you along for this journey.
Now, looking ahead—Volume 6 will be the final chapter of this story. And this time, we're heading back to the world of Akame ga Kill. The battle is heating up as powerful guilds arrive in pursuit of Primis. Expect epic clashes between Servants, Pokémon, Death Note wielders, and many more otherworldly forces.
Exciting things are coming, so stay tuned!
Thank you once again,
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*A/N: Please throw some power stones.
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