Chapter 88 Bosacius, Corrupted

"Can't find that guy." 

Havria propped her snow-white chin on her hand, staring out the window in boredom.

A gentle rain fell with a crisp patter against the window frame, each droplet bursting into tiny sprays that gathered along the windowsill. Some even spattered onto the God of Salt's delicate cheeks. 

Peering into the distance, she saw a blanket of misty drizzle enveloping the entire city. All the lamps in every household had been extinguished, and the rain falling onto the streets merged into thin rivulets, soaking into the mossy bricks. 

Gazing still farther, beyond the city and across the barren mountains, the God of Salt closed her brilliant gold eyes, carefully sensing the domain of Sal Terrae.

No trace. She couldn't sense that fellow's presence anywhere.

Whenever Bosacius was in Sal Terrae, no matter how he hid, Havria could always find him. The karma around him was too intense, like a beacon in the dead of night—impossible to miss. 

That fool always fancied himself well-hidden.

Just thinking of this brought a slight smile to Havria's lips.

This past month, whenever Bosacius relocated and found another hideout, she would go looking for him again. Watching his expression each time—utterly resigned, as though he couldn't do a thing about her—Havria found it kind of fun. 

As she'd said before, even though she was hundreds, perhaps thousands, of years old, she was still very much a girl—just an extremely experienced one.

The God of Salt called this game "hide-and-seek." Bosacius the "clumsy cat" was always found.

Yes, a cat—that was Havria's first impression of Bosacius. An ancient cat, old and tired. 

He was worn and ragged, eyes full of exhaustion. He had wandered alone into the wilderness, leaving his homeland of Liyue behind to come to distant Sal Terrae.

Havria once heard that an aging cat, close to death, might leave its home quietly and go off to the wilds to die… When she first met Bosacius, lying nearly lifeless at the edge of the wasteland—his wrist cut, the sunset bathing his body in bloody afterglow—she thought his eyes looked exactly like those of a dying cat.

That was when Havria decided to "adopt" this homeless creature. 

Perhaps it was to repay his favor from the Archon War. Perhaps her sympathy was stirred. Or maybe some other emotion. In any case, Havria wanted to help him. 

Even though that cat would hiss, brandish its claws, brimming with pride and wild instincts, fully capable of hurting her at any moment, she still wanted to be at his side. She was lonely too—perhaps she wanted to keep that solitary old cat company.

Bosacius had once mocked that Havria was a fool sprinting straight off a cliff's edge. 

But she would've retorted that if she was rushing off the cliff, it was only because he was perched right on the brink, all too eager to leap. 

She had to gallop at full speed to rescue him, yet that fool, even as he jumped, had the gall to scold her for failing to "cherish her life" and "turn back before it was too late."

What an idiot.

But now, playing hide-and-seek with him, she couldn't find that clumsy cat at all. The karma she could once sense from miles away had simply gone out.

Only two possibilities: either Bosacius was dead, or he'd left Sal Terrae. 

She dismissed the first possibility outright.

As if that fool could die so easily. Cats are said to have nine lives—his should be tough. Besides, he promised they'd have sardines together again. So that was impossible.

Havria rested her chin in her hand, gazing at the rain-swept city through golden eyes, momentarily lost in thought. 

So, that left the second possibility: he'd left Sal Terrae. 

Likely he'd grown tired of hide-and-seek, no longer wanting to play. So he ran off somewhere she couldn't trace, letting her stew in worry, laughing at her for being such a fool.

A sense of gloom churned in her. She couldn't name the emotion precisely, but it was as murky and restless as the drizzling sky. 

When you get used to a cat's presence and it suddenly departs, the emptiness is palpable.

After all, Havria had only that one cat.

She actually didn't have any friends. 

She was revered and worshiped in the grand halls of Sal Terrae; for centuries, her followers had offered devout tributes, but none truly talked to her. She loved her people, but no one reciprocated a god's love in a way she could feel.

So the first time she'd seen Bosacius, pity and empathy had swelled in her heart. Probably because she too was an ancient cat, drifting alone. 

They had each run into a fellow lonely soul.

She rose to her feet, long silver hair brushing the floor, bare feet softly crossing the threshold. Outside, the downpour pounded down relentlessly, but she intended to go out anyway.

Perhaps… she would try to look for him. 

He'd be all alone, without anyone to sing to him.

Yes, she should look. 

Nobody else would sing for him…

Havria would not "pull back at the cliff's edge." If Bosacius was so intent on jumping, she would continue sprinting right after him.

Just then—

"Your Grace."

A respectful voice sounded outside her temple. 

"Your loyal followers request an audience."

Havria recognized that voice; he was a leader among her faithful, one of Sal Terrae's administrators.

"Come in," Havria replied.

Beyond the thick, roiling clouds, pale lightning flickered. Lightning snakes glimmered across the far horizon. In that brief, brilliant flash, the countless silver cords of rain flared, lit from behind.

---

Something felt off. 

He couldn't say precisely what, but Bosacius sensed it as he trudged through the gloom.

It might have been the oppressive weather—silver lines of rain weaving a thick curtain overhead, so dense that no sunlight filtered through. Perhaps it was the hush in the air, stifling and tense. Perhaps it was just instinct.

Bosacius recalled seeing scattered soldiers on his way, trudging around in heavy armor, faces grim. Rain poured over their cloaks, yet they stayed silent. 

They were mobilizing.

That was unusual. Sal Terrae, under the God of Salt's care, had lived in an era of peace—there was rarely any need for a standing army. 

He looked out over the city, wreathed in its wet gloom. The God of Salt's stronghold at the center had one faint light shining. The rest of the city lay in darkness, silent and unlit.

Bosacius had led armies for hundreds of years—he had once commanded the Millelith. His instincts regarding troop movements were sharp.

He had never before entered the God of Salt's city. 

But tonight, he would make an exception.

Wearing a deep black hood, he walked swiftly, the buildings and streets whisking past him, the torrential rain falling behind. His expression was blank as he climbed the grand temple steps.

Something was definitely wrong. 

The karma in his body started to churn, cursing him—Damn it… damn it!

His vision grew unsteady. Low whispers echoed in his ears, a constant, maddening murmur. He clenched his teeth. 

Though he had just returned from Liyue not long ago, where he'd suppressed the worst of his affliction, now that he was unsettled again, that internal mania threatened to break free.

"Hah…huh…" 

Bosacius exhaled slowly, forcing his mind to remain calm.

He strode deeper into the temple. 

Many guards rushed to stop him, but each man froze the instant he moved. Fear crept over them— their very souls quivered.

That hooded figure passed among them without a glance. A hundred soldiers felt as though they had just faced a demon god incarnate.

Their bodies sensed the outpouring of karmic corruption, though invisible and intangible, stifling every breath. 

Yes. Bosacius realized something dreadful had happened.

He should never have left Sal Terrae these past two days. 

If he'd stayed, this scene… might never have come to pass.

A crackling hearth glowed in the next chamber, its warm, golden flame lighting the surroundings.

Havria stood by the fireplace, white hair drifting in the night breeze. The dancing glow shimmered over her pale robes, painting her cheeks in a ruddy hue. 

Sensing his presence, she slowly turned her head, meeting Bosacius's gaze across the threshold.

"Why," he demanded, "why didn't you resist?"

"You could have killed them all."

Havria did not respond directly. Her gold eyes, reflecting the flickering hearth, showed a tinge of delicate rose. She, this "experienced maiden," smiled instead:

"So, you didn't leave after all," she said lightly. "You found me."

"In this round of hide-and-seek, you win."

Yet she refused to address his question.

Silence. 

"I went to Liyue and bought sardines," he remarked. "Fresh from the harbor."

"That's wonderful," she replied, nodding. "They must be delicious."

"We had a deal," Bosacius said. 

"And I had one with you," Havria murmured, her voice soft. "We said we'd share sardines and salt next time."

"I thought I'd be the only one to break a promise." Bosacius glared at her. "But now you've gone and done it."

"Sorry," Havria apologized, gold eyes reflecting his face. "I broke my word… I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry. Forgive me," she repeated.

Her pure-white robes were slowly staining red, blossoming from a wound caused by a blade. The blood spread out in rippling circles. The God of Salt was dying, and yet she was still saying sorry:

"Bosacius… I'm sorry."

"I forgot to fight back…"

When her people's sword impaled the God of Salt's chest, Havria offered no struggle. She just felt sad—she too was a lonely old cat, after all, who loved her people, while her people… 

Perhaps they had once loved her as well but had no more need of her.

"You idiot," Bosacius snarled. "I've never seen anyone as stupid as you. Dying serves you right."

"Bosacius," Havria managed a faint smile. "Don't… make that face."

What face?

Glancing at the window's reflection, Bosacius saw his own tight-lipped expression, eyes stained red at the edges, fury in every line. Karmic sin was surging, ready to devour him from within.

"I want…" Havria whispered, "to sing you one last song. Please, you must endure. Even if you're alone, Bosacius, don't ever give in."

In the prolonged stillness, her song—a pure, ocean-salt melody—mingled with the patter of the rainy night, so hushed it sounded like salt dissolving, like surf frothing on a summer shore.

…

"Vos estis sal terrae." 

… 

"Quod si sal evanuerit, quid loco eius ponetur?" 

… 

"Quod si sal evanuerit, aliud loco eius ponetur." 

…

Her singing could soothe karma. Yet as the song faded, so too did Havria, like salt dissolving away once the ocean's waves have evaporated. She vanished in a swirl of tiny grains of salt.

Watching from a distance, the city's ruler and his soldiers trembled in fear, uncertain how to respond to Bosacius now.

"Why'd you kill her?" Bosacius asked quietly.

"A kindhearted god…" 

The ruler's voice trembled. "In war, that kindness saves no one. The Archon War is brutal. Rather than let her suffer the defeat, we gave her… a gentler release."

The Archon War. 

Bosacius gave a mirthless laugh. He glanced at the ruler's ornate attire. A mere human, sheltered by the God of Salt, dares to pontificate on the war's cruelty to a Yaksha general—someone who truly fought in those battles—and claims it was an "act of mercy" to slay a god.

"How dare you," he muttered as karmic corruption seized his vision. Thunder crackled overhead, momentarily revealing Bosacius's shadowed face in stark relief. "Why did you kill her?"

His voice was low, yet oppressive, forcing everyone around him to quake in dread.

A monster. 

"Monster! He's a demon!" one soldier screamed, finger trembling as he pointed. "He's pure evil!"

Bosacius indeed appeared monstrous at that moment—swathed in illusions, boiling with karma.

"And you say that's why you murdered her? Because she was kind?" Bosacius's voice was cold. "YOU CALL ME A DEMON? FINE—I'LL BE YOUR DEMON."

Lightning tore across the sky. Clouds parted; the earth shook in brilliant, blinding white. Bosacius's twisted smile glowed with malevolent glee.

"As you wish."

Something snapped. 

A colossal force shattered the calm. The God of Salt's lingering power now ran wild, no longer bound to her will. Crystals of salt expanded in an uncontrolled eruption, coating the ceiling, walls, and fireplace. Any human unfortunate enough to come in contact with it transformed into grains of salt in an instant.

They realized with horror what was happening and tried to flee, but as soon as they took one step, they stopped. 

A crushing aura pinned them in place. Their knees buckled, snapping with a sickening crunch.

The ruler stared up at Bosacius in terror, stammering, "No, please, we'll worship you…we were wrong, so wrong—spare us!"

Bosacius calmly raised his hand. 

All the traitorous soldiers collapsed in unison, forced to kneel. Blood and salt mingled on the floor as the creeping crystals consumed their bodies. Gradually, they turned to salt statues, forever trapped in a posture of supplication. 

They howled and wept, sobbing in terror, but there would be no rising again.

"Pathetic," Bosacius muttered, gazing blankly at the ruler as the man's body hardened into salt. "Shut up."

The ruler gasped in silent despair before he died.

After a while, Bosacius lowered his eyes. "She was too kind," he rasped, "so she forgot how to fight back. I, on the other hand, will become the unforgivable devil—a sinner for all eternity."

The karma swallowed his vision. He was on the verge of total madness. 

But he still clenched his teeth.

"I shall struggle for every kindhearted soul that cannot struggle for itself—"

[Lv. 90 (Power of The Seven)]

It was over. 

The rain had stopped. 

Everything inside the temple was contaminated by salt, the soldiers forever entombed in their final kneeling positions. 

Silence reigned.

Bosacius stooped to gather the fine grains near the fireplace. These salt particles gently brushed his palm. They felt warm—like Havria reaching for his hand, bright embers reflecting in them. 

They hadn't vanished entirely.

[Remaining Lifespan: 10 Days]

[Bosacius, you can't save her.]

The final notes of Havria's song had held onto Bosacius's last shred of sanity, but that last scrap of life was slipping away in his struggle with the karma.

The Human Principles System spoke softly:

"You've burned yourself out. You can't even save yourself."

Yes. Bosacius was a mass of karma—a demon. No one could save a monster. 

"I know that," Bosacius said. "Hey, System. My next body's nearly ready, right? I recall it's Dendro-affiliated, with excellent innate gifts… definitely better than Bosacius ever was." 

"That's a gentle element." 

"What do you plan to do?" the System asked.

Bosacius stared at the salt in his hands. "I want to give my next life…to her. I'll draw from the lifespan of my next reincarnation to nurture these grains of salt, until she awakens."

A long silence. 

"You can't do that." 

 After a pause, the Human Principles System spoke.

Bosacius grinned—his lips pulling back into a twisted smile, his whole form drenched in malice. Right now, he really did resemble a demon.

He was smiling as he said,

"So what? Try and stop me, then."

He was acting like a complete demon.

"You know the consequences for your next life…"

 The Human Principles System hesitated for a beat.

"At worst," Bosacius said calmly, "I'll just endure another life of suffering."

"Is it worth it?"

"I've already decided," he replied. The salt felt so warm in his hand, as if Havria were truly holding it. "We made a promise to have sardines together—that promise must be kept."

"She saved me. She's a good person. So I'm saving her back. That's all there is to it."

"I can never understand humans."

"That's how it is with that idiot," Bosacius said with a slight smile, looking more monstrous than ever. "She once called me a fool dashing off a cliff… well." 

"How do you plan to do this?" the System asked.

Bosacius rose, karmic darkness swirling around him, an unfathomable malice incarnate, like a crimson cloak draping his shoulders. His humanity was on the verge of vanishing. 

His voice echoed through the empty hall:

"I'll keep jumping off the cliff, time and time again." 

He declared: 

"I will swallow all the world's pain."