The imperial palace of Snezhnaya.
Upon the immortal throne forged of steel and dragonbone sat the crowned Tsaritsa, gazing down at the ministers who had come to pay their respects—much as one might look upon the countless lives of an empire.
The warmth that once lingered in her eyes was long gone. In its place remained only endless cold and detachment.
"I apologize… for making you bear the sorrow of this entire world alongside me."
"If you can endure my bitter cold, then there must be a blazing desire burning within your hearts."
"Then—burn the old world for me."
Her authoritative voice echoed through the resplendent hall, like a divine decree descending from the heavens.
Before the steps of the throne stood eleven figures, each a symbol of the greatest power this land of ice and snow possessed. Standing in perfect formation, they lifted their heads and shouted as one.
"For Her Majesty!"
"For Snezhnaya!"
"For glory!"
Led by the Eleven Harbingers, the assembled civil and military officials, along with the palace guards, declared their absolute loyalty with thunderous chants.
Yet in this solemn moment, a single discordant voice rang out—unmistakably clear.
"For… the rebellion against the Heavenly Principles!"
The speaker was half a beat slower than the others, but those few words carried a strange, almost terrifying weight. In an instant, the magnificent hall fell silent.
Countless gazes turned toward the man standing at the Tsaritsa's left—eyes filled not with shock, but with reverence.
Across Teyvat, watched over by the Heavenly Principles, only one man dared to speak so openly of defiance.
The Prince of Snezhnaya.
The most powerful man in the nation.
A butcher whose name struck terror into enemies' hearts.
The Tsaritsa's most trusted blade and pillar.
"Remember your mission. You may withdraw," the Tsaritsa said, lifting a hand.
The royal guards departed first, shields and spears in hand, followed by the ministers and nobles. Then, one by one, the Eleven Harbingers left the hall. Everything unfolded with flawless order—in this rigid hierarchy, rules were not merely followed, they were obeyed as discipline.
"Prince."
Once the hall was empty, the Tsaritsa spoke again.
Had the Harbingers still been present, they would have been stunned—for within her voice lingered a rare trace of warmth.
No one but the Tsaritsa knew the prince's true past. To the outside world, only his astonishing achievements were known. In just three short years, he had reformed all of Snezhnaya.
Military. Economy. Technology.
Each had grown severalfold compared to three years prior, elevating Snezhnaya into the strongest of the Seven Nations. For this, he was granted a title never before seen in Snezhnaya's history—the only outsider prince.
His name was Severin.
Even from the name alone, it was clear he was not native to Snezhnaya. He was a Descender from another world.
Over the past three years, Severin had relied on a sign-in system to wield power rivaling that of the Seven Archons despite possessing a mortal body—nearly immortal, nearly indestructible. Once the system judged him to be among the strongest beings in the world, it departed.
He did not remain idle.
Using the knowledge the system left behind, he assisted the Tsaritsa in ruling Snezhnaya, earning his current position—second only to her, above all others.
"Your Majesty."
Despite his unparalleled contributions and terrifying combat strength, Severin always remained courteous and restrained before the Tsaritsa. He had not forgotten that on the very first day he arrived in this world, he had nearly lost his life.
The white-haired woman who forcibly separated Lumine and Aether—the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles—would attack beings from beyond this world. Severin, having descended into Snezhnaya, naturally became her prey.
The Tsaritsa sought to use the power of a Descender to oppose the Heavenly Principles. Noticing the Sustainer's unstable state, she fought her for days on end before finally escaping back to the capital with Severin.
That battle left the Tsaritsa gravely wounded—injuries she had yet to fully recover from.
Severin was not an ungrateful man. She had risked her life to save his, and so everything he had done for Snezhnaya since then had been of his own free will.
He had simply… gone a little too far.
"You are a Descender from beyond this world. I saved you because I believed you could aid me—and you did not disappoint. A genius without equal. Anyone the Heavenly Principles seek to kill is forever my ally."
After centuries of cold detachment, the Tsaritsa's smile appeared awkward and unfamiliar. It lacked the lofty pride of a god-queen, yet carried the innocence of a woman.
The beauty hidden behind imperial authority finally shed its disguise, revealing its most captivating form—one seen by Severin alone.
"Your Majesty," Severin said softly, "has anyone ever told you that when you smile, the entire world pales in comparison?"
The Tsaritsa froze.
Since becoming one of the Seven, no one—save perhaps that idle god who wandered the mortal world in Liyue—had dared comment on her appearance so directly.
By all rights, such insolence deserved divine punishment.
But the man before her was Severin.
She accepted the compliment without hesitation, even savoring the joy of being admired—something long worn away in an age that discarded humanity in favor of divinity.
"My prince," she sighed, "a peerless talent who also knows how to please women. You've reached a suitable age for marriage—it truly troubles me. Few women among the Seven Nations are worthy of you. I've already considered a few candidates…"
Here it comes again.
At times, Severin felt the Tsaritsa was no different from a mother urging her child to marry.
Fortunately, he was well-practiced in handling this.
"Having witnessed Your Majesty's beauty, it's difficult for any other woman to stir my heart. If you insist on finding me a partner, I believe you are the most suitable choice."
Only the other Archons would dare tease the Tsaritsa so openly.
And now, Severin had earned that privilege.
Her reply was the same as always:
"Before the Heavenly Principles are destroyed, how can there be a home?"
"Then I suppose I'll turn my attention to your subordinates instead."
"Aren't you already doing so?" she replied calmly. "But remember—playing with women's hearts is like playing with fire."
The warning could not have been clearer.
"Your Majesty," Severin said, changing the subject, "you didn't summon me just to discuss my personal life, did you?"
"Lately, I've felt an unease I haven't known since five hundred years ago—before the destruction of Khaenri'ah. I fear the Heavenly Principles' judgment is drawing near."
When a ruler spoke of foreboding, it was never for comfort—it was a call for responsibility.
"What do you need me to do?"
"I wish to appoint you as a special envoy to visit the other six nations and accelerate the collection of the Gnoses. Of course, this requires your consent."
In truth, the Eleven Harbingers had long been carrying out this mission. But progress had been slow, and the Tsaritsa had lost patience. The task naturally fell to the most capable man of all.
"A thankless task," Severin remarked.
Her icy-blue eyes shimmered as she smiled faintly.
"Didn't you say I was the most suitable partner? The sooner the Heavenly Principles are destroyed, the sooner I'll consider that matter."
Gathering all seven Gnoses was the first—and most crucial—step in Snezhnaya's rebellion.
Her meaning could not have been clearer.
"Your Majesty," Severin said calmly, "I depart tomorrow."
He lifted her hand gently, pressing a warm kiss against the back of it.
The Tsaritsa smiled once more, gazing at him with unmistakable fondness.
"You truly are… like a child who never grows up."
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