Genshin Impact: Watch me turn the tables and kill my servants at the start!

During the World Tree search, the skirmisher stumbled upon a deliberately buried record in the data stream.

It was an old fragment about Tasha. He had only followed a branch path related to the traveler's blood relatives for a short distance, but the flow of data suddenly deviated when it passed through a certain node—as if something was pulling him from the side, deviating from the original path and leading him into a memory remnant that he thought had long been sealed away by time.

The outlines of the image were blurry, but the skirmisher could make out that it was an area near the hearth before the treadmill was sealed. Someone was speaking. It was Dotole's voice, younger than any version he now knew.

The glow from the furnace core reflected on the panels being operated, casting a faint, dark red light. Several shadowy figures busied themselves around the furnace core until one of them made a crucial, game-changing move—he withdrew the original connection and instead plugged another signal interface into the furnace core's central control area.

Niwa did not betray anyone. He was killed by the Doctor. The heart that was placed into the device to protect the reactor core was Niwa's heart.

All the pain, hatred, and everything that followed stemmed from the Doctor's conspiracy and scheming.

The data unfolded completely in the skirmisher's mind, then stopped. The skirmisher opened his eyes in the phantom of the World Tree. He looked down at his slightly trembling hand, then raised his head, his gaze falling on the still-lit ancient projection in the World Tree's data stream, as if confirming the authenticity of the information in his own way.

Then the skirmisher raised his hand, his fingertips touching the surface of the World Tree. His movement was very light, but the moment he touched the data stream, the phantom of the World Tree began to slowly rotate around him, like a layer of water being stirred, rearranging its texture along the direction of his fingertips.

"If I had never existed... the tragedy of Tasha might never have happened. Those who died because of my decision might not have died."

The stragglers stood within the core data stream of the World Tree, enveloped in a swirling light. Then they spoke, their voice carrying a tone entirely different from before, closer to confirmation: "I wish I had never existed."

The phantom of the World Tree froze the moment he finished speaking. Then its color began to change—from light to dark, with a spreading ripple appearing at the edges, spreading outwards along the direction of the data flow, as if it were reweaving its own structure, rewriting the records that had already been written one by one.

The figure of the stragglers gradually blurred in the light of the World Tree. His outline seemed to be slowly washed away by something, like a painting fading, being washed away layer by layer by water until only the base color of the paper remained. Then the light completely closed in.

The phantom of the World Tree returned to its original color and shape, and even the surrounding data stream returned to its original rhythm, as if nothing had happened.

The next morning, on the mountain path outside Sumeru City, Fanes was squatting on a rock, holding a cup of hot tea he had bought from a roadside stall, waiting for Yakoda to put the dry rations he had just bought into his backpack.

The morning light shone from the other side of the hillside, spreading along the edges of the grass blades and forming a slowly narrowing band of light on the rim of Fañes' cup. Just as he was about to get up and leave, a figure dressed in simple clothes turned out from a nearby fork in the road.

The man's pace was neither fast nor slow, his posture carrying a sense of unfamiliarity as he adapted to the new environment—as if he had just stepped out of a place he had stayed for a long time and was getting used to the feel of the ground and the changes in wind direction.

The soldier had dark hair, and a few grass seeds stuck to the edge of his clothes. He looked like he had just come from a long trek that didn't require much luggage and hadn't quite decided where to go next.

Fanes held the teacup, watching the figure approach. His gaze lingered on the figure's face for a moment before he uttered, "...Skirmisher?"

The figure paused slightly upon hearing the name, as if confirming whether the word referred to him—but the pause was brief. He turned to look at Fanes: "You've mistaken me for someone else."

Yakoda packed her backpack and walked over to Fanes. Her gaze fell on the figure, and she spoke: "This person looks a lot like a skirmisher. His build, silhouette, and the angle of his stance are very similar to the executive officer we saw before."

Fanes continued watching the figure walking away: "It's not just a resemblance. He's a skirmisher."

Yakoda turned her head to look at him: "But he doesn't seem to recognize us."

"He really doesn't recognize us anymore," Fanes said, setting down his teacup. "The World Tree has been altered; he's erased himself from history. Now, apart from travelers, probably not many people remember who the Skirmisher was."

Yakoda stood beside him: "Then why do you still remember?"

Fanes said, "Because I am not a person of this world. The changes to the World Tree do not affect me."

Fanes turned his head to look at Akoda. "You are unaffected either. The blessing of the storm has allowed your existence to extend beyond the World Tree's coverage area."

Yakoda paused for a moment, then asked, "Can we take him back now?"

Fanes shook his head: "No. He doesn't recognize us now. If you approach him rashly, he might treat you as an enemy. Besides, he has no memory; he doesn't know who he is or who we are. We need to help him remember on his own, or get him to actively learn about his past, rather than simply taking him back."

Yakoda said, "So we're just going to let him go like that?"

Fanes said, "Let's wait and see."

Just as they were about to follow along the mountain path, another figure ran over from the fork in the road leading to Sumeru City.

Ying ran closer and stopped, crouching down to catch her breath while supporting herself on her knees. Then she straightened up and looked at Fanes: "You've already seen him?"

Fanes said, "I saw him. He just walked past us and said we had mistaken him for someone else."

Ying straightened up, her gaze fixed on the retreating figure. "He is indeed called the Wanderer now. He doesn't remember his past. But I know who he is. Nasita has made a backup of all his memories and hidden it somewhere in the World Tree. He can retrieve those memories whenever he wants."

Fanes leaned against the rock: "So, what do you plan to do?"

Ying said, "I will explain it to him."

Ying quickly chased after the receding figure.

When Ying caught up with the figure, he had stopped under a tree by the roadside, bending down to tie his shoelaces. Halfway through, he heard footsteps behind him, turned his head to look at her, and said, "You've been following me for a while now. If you have anything to say, you can just say it."

Ying stopped beside him: "I know you. You weren't called the Wanderer before, you were called the Scatter Soldier."

The homeless man paused for a moment when he heard the name, but he didn't look up: "I don't remember that name."

Ying remained standing beside him: "I can show you some things that should help you remember some things. If you'd like, we can set off now."

The wanderer stood there, looked down at his shoelaces that he had just tied, then looked up and followed Ying's gaze toward the distant Jingshan Palace: "...Let's go take a look."

When Ying led him back to the Pure Palace along the mountain path, Fanes and Yakoda were standing on the hillside watching the receding figure.

Yakoda turned to look at Fanes: "Do you think he'll accept those memories?"

Fanes looked away: "He will accept it."

Several hours later, the door to the side hall of Jingshan Palace was pushed open from the inside.

The homeless man stood there, his posture unchanged, but his hand gripping the door frame paused slightly when his fingertips touched the edge of the frame.

The wanderer's gaze lingered for a moment on the low stool in the corner as he swept over the furnishings in the side hall, then moved away. He lowered his head, as if he were processing what he had just encountered in his own way, or as if he were waiting for the fragmented information to settle into its proper place in an orderly manner.

Then the wanderer raised his head, his gaze passing over the outline of the furnishings in the side hall and landing on the figure leaning against the door frame at the entrance of the side hall.

Fanes straightened up and said, "Welcome back."

The wanderer stood at the entrance to the side hall, looking at Fanes, then at Yakoda standing beside him, and then he spoke, his voice carrying a confirmation that was being reassembled: "...You are the twelfth seat."

Fanes said, "Yes."

The wanderer stood there, as if completing a confirmation that required time to settle in his own way: "...I looked at those backup memories."

Fanes said, "I know."

The wanderer paused for a moment, then spoke, his voice slightly lower than before: "I really should retrieve those memories."

Fanes said, "This is your own choice. I'm just here waiting for you to make your decision."

The wanderer stood there, still watching him, his gaze lingering on Fanes' shoulder for a moment before shifting away to the edge of the slowly moving shadow on the windowsill.

Jakoda, standing to the side, turned her head and whispered to Fanes, "What do you think he'll call you next?"

"I'll probably remain silent for a while," Fanes said.

Yakoda thought for a moment: "Then when do you think he'll call you—that name?"

Fanes said, "Let's wait until he's really thought it through."

Phanes turned his head and met the wanderer's gaze as he looked away. The gaze briefly fell on his face before moving away, expressionless but not averted.