After laying bare the secrets of his heart, Pantalone, the once peerless Ninth Harbinger of the Fatui, collapsed to his knees in utter disarray.
Who could have imagined that just a minute earlier, he had still been the terrifying figure who commanded the Northland Bank, the mastermind who had once thrown all six nations into turmoil through economic warfare?
Yet now, before a man far more terrifying than himself, his emotions had completely crumbled.
Only at this moment did Liyue's upper echelon finally grasp a shocking truth—
Their greatest rival in the economic arena had originated from Liyue itself.
Because he never received a Vision, he had chosen commerce instead.
Because of that path, he had ultimately defected to Snezhnaya.
Pantalone closed his eyes, waiting for the ice blade above his head to fall and deliver punishment for his lies.
In his final moments, memories surfaced unbidden.
He remembered his mother.
He remembered the distant past.
He had been born in one of Liyue's poorest mountain villages. His parents were honest farmers, plain and unremarkable. Yet on the day of his birth, a swarm of Slimes had gathered around the house.
The midwife had said his elemental affinity far surpassed that of other children—that he was a genius destined to receive a Vision and change his family's fate.
From that day on, he became the village's great hope.
But one year passed.
Three years.
Five.
Ten.
The gaze of the gods never descended upon him.
Meanwhile, several of the children who played in his courtyard received Visions one after another.
That afternoon, he came home from school and cried in his mother's arms.
"Mom… why don't I have a Vision?"
His mother stroked his head gently.
"You're such a good child, and so devout. The gods will surely take pity on you."
When he was sixteen, on his way home from the academy, he was bullied by a group of delinquent classmates.
Among them was a tall scholar who habitually preyed on the weak. When Pantalone refused to pay protection money, the group mocked and insulted him.
"Everyone says you're a genius, that Slimes came to see you when you were born. What a joke! You're just a pathetic nobody without a Vision—haha!"
"One day, I will have a Vision," he retorted stubbornly.
"Oh? Still talking back?" the tall scholar sneered.
"Come on, let's show him what a real genius looks like!"
They lifted their shirts.
Around their necks hung Visions of various elements.
His eyes widened.
He had worked so hard.
He had been so devout.
His desire for a Vision burned hotter than anyone else's.
So why did the gods grant Visions to a pack of worthless hooligans instead?
Provoked and humiliated, he fought back—only to be beaten to the ground.
"Don't hit my little brother!"
That scene was carved into his memory forever.
His elder brother threw himself over him, shielding him as fists and kicks rained down.
Other students and teachers eventually drove the bullies away. His brother was sent to the hospital—but the family had no money for treatment.
Their parents begged everywhere for loans. By the time they gathered enough, the delay had left permanent damage.
From then on, his brother had to rely on medicine for the rest of his life.
Brilliant and talented, his brother abandoned the path of the imperial examinations and turned to medicine instead—trying to heal himself.
If only I had a Vision…
I could have stopped all of this.
Later, their father died from overwork.
Their mother, consumed by grief, followed soon after.
From then on, it was just the two brothers.
He was eighteen that year.
"Brother," he said quietly, "perhaps the gods have forgotten us. Even after Mother's death, neither of us received a Vision. Maybe… I should find another way to achieve my dreams."
"No more praying to the gods. No more hoping for them. I'll rely on my own mind—and answer those who look down on me."
His brother nodded weakly.
"Whatever you do, I support you. Just remember what Mother taught us—never break contracts, never break the law."
"Don't worry," he replied.
"It's just small business. Nothing illegal."
From then on, a thin figure appeared across Liyue's bustling docks, streets, alleys, ruins, and domains.
He sold jianbing, the craft his mother had taught him.
The business grew.
A food stall became a restaurant.
A cart became a shipping fleet.
In just a few years, he became a famous tycoon of Liyue—so successful that he even ran in the election for the Liyue Qixing.
Then, one night, disaster struck.
The vault where he stored his Mora was robbed. Everything he had built vanished overnight.
And the thief—
Bore a Geo Vision.
The object he had once dreamed of now filled him with nothing but disgust and hatred.
Unable to pay his workers, his restaurants closed. His fleet disbanded. In a single night, he returned to poverty.
Only then did he realize—
Without a Vision, no amount of money truly mattered.
He collapsed in the rain, sobbing, replaying his tragic life.
Rejected by the gods.
Denied a Vision.
He had chased worldly power—wealth—only to discover that even wealth, one of the greatest powers of mortals, was still firmly controlled by the gods.
He was a child abandoned by the divine.
A son forsaken by Liyue.
This world was unfair.
Days later, the thief was caught. His wealth was returned.
But by then, his heart had already moved on.
He abandoned everything and boarded a merchant ship bound for Snezhnaya.
He had heard that in that frozen land ruled a great Empress—
one willing to accept all who had been wounded, betrayed, despairing, cursed, burdened with sin, or enraged by the injustice of fate.
From among them, she would select the most capable and grant them a device imbued with divine authority—
A Delusion.
That was his only hope of revenge against Liyue.
Against the Geo Archon.
Now, kneeling in the Jade Chamber, Pantalone remembered his mother one last time.
He touched the Delusion at his side and smiled calmly, prepared for death.
"To seize from the gods the minting authority that should belong to humanity…"
The Prince of Snezhnaya spoke at last.
"Sounds like yet another rebel against divine rule."
"But Morax and the Tsaritsa are both gods. If you hate gods, that hatred includes Her Majesty as well."
"No wonder you dared not tell me the truth. You knew I am her most resolute supporter."
"Yes, Your Highness," Pantalone replied weakly, his head hanging low.
The Prince's insight was as sharp as ever—he had pierced the reason behind the lies.
"Lift your head," Severin said calmly.
"Answer me one last question."
He rose to his feet.
"Pantalone—
to the man kneeling before you now… am I an object of your vengeance—"
"Or the Prince you would follow unto death?"
Pantalone's eyes snapped open.
In that instant, clarity struck him like lightning.
The person he should have trusted most was standing right in front of him.
A man who stood shoulder to shoulder with gods—
yet was undeniably human.
Who said humans could not seize the authority of gods?
Who said humans could not stand as equals to the divine?
The one who created miracles had been here all along.
"Your Highness… I was a fool," Pantalone said hoarsely.
"I should have told you the truth from the very beginning."
At last, he awakened.
"Enough. Get up," Severin said lightly.
"I'll spare your life—for Her Majesty's sake."
"If you keep crying, Lady Ningguang might start thinking Snezhnayan men only know how to weep."
Ningguang didn't dare take it as a joke.
In truth, she—and the rest of Liyue's leadership—were deadly serious.
Pantalone's desire to reclaim minting authority for humanity echoed Keqing's long-held belief that human rule should replace divine rule—though his path had been far more extreme.
And the Prince of Snezhnaya's overwhelming authority within Snezhnaya was now laid bare for all to see.
His ruthless discipline toward subordinates carved an unforgettable impression into the hearts of Liyue's Seven Stars and Eight Bureaus.
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