A realm unshackled from gods, where mortals chart their own course—Keqing's dream unfurled before her.
Her eyes gleamed as Xander spun tales of his world's evolution, a saga of human triumph.
"When the gods first withdrew, charlatans cloaked themselves as divine heralds," he began.
"They peddled power and greed, spilling blood under sacred banners," he continued.
"Time passed, and some awoke—gods wouldn't return, their silence a void," he said.
"Emboldened, they wielded faith as a blade, cloaking vile acts in righteousness," he recounted.
"Millennia rolled by, and the masses rose, toppling the crimson reign of false idols," he declared.
"Human rule dawned fully, save for rare enclaves clinging to old creeds," he explained.
"From thrones to fields, mortals govern, their leaders forged by the people's will," he finished.
Xander wove this tapestry for over ten minutes, Keqing's face alight with longing.
She leaned forward, "Xander, could Liyue thrive without emperors or immortals too?"
Her voice brimmed with hope, yearning for a nod to affirm her vision.
Xander's gaze softened, "Keqing, it pains me to say, but Liyue can't shed its gods and endure."
Her brows furrowed, confusion rippling across her sharp features.
"Why not?" she pressed, voice trembling with sudden doubt.
"Your world thrives without them—why can't ours?" she demanded, rising.
Xander met her fire with calm, "You've overlooked a crucial truth."
"My world knows no divine hand, but Teyvat bows to Celestia and the Seven," he said.
"Liyue's might stems from Morax's valor and his immortal legion," he reasoned.
"Strip that away, and Liyue sinks to the Seven Nations' dregs," he warned.
"Take Osial, chained beneath Guyun—without Morax, who reins him in if he breaks free?"
"Forget demon gods; even the Fatui could topple Liyue's unguarded gates," he added.
Keqing sank back, thunderstruck, her chair creaking under her weight.
Her keen mind grasped it all, though her heart recoiled from the verdict.
Without divine aegis, Liyue would crumble—she couldn't deny the logic.
Teyvat's seven realms each leaned on a god, a celestial decree unbroken.
Gods stood as pillars, their might a shield, their presence a banner.
Mondstadt proved it—Wendy's absence let the Fatui gnaw at its edges.
Had Barbatos lingered, the Knights' absence wouldn't invite such bold schemes.
Xander pressed on, "Keqing, your dream's noble—Liyue's glory blends Morax's wisdom with human sweat."
"Choose between divine rule or mortal? I'd pick a god like Morax every time," he confessed.
His tone rang true, no flattery lacing his measured words.
Keqing frowned, "Why lean on gods when you're human yourself?"
"Shouldn't you crave a path we carve alone?" she challenged, lost in his stance.
Xander sighed, "When gods left my world, peace didn't follow."
"Nations clashed, blood soaked the earth, betrayal festered within," he recounted.
"Two global wars raged in fifty years, claiming over a hundred million lives," he revealed.
The number struck like a hammer, Keqing's breath catching in her throat.
Liyue's entirety—cities, villages, all—barely scraped ten million souls.
Teyvat itself, vast as it was, fell short of that staggering toll.
"A hundred million?" she whispered, the scale numbing her mind.
"In my world, we've no Archons to temper us, just our own flawed hands," he said.
"We've built wonders—towers piercing clouds, machines outpacing thought," he mused.
"But we've razed forests, poisoned seas, and turned brother against brother," he admitted.
"A wise god like Morax offers stability we've bled to find," he concluded.
Keqing stared, her golden shrimp balls forgotten on the plate.
Xinyue Pavilion's splendor dimmed, her focus locked on his words.
"Your world's freedom came at a cost Liyue might not bear," she murmured.
Xander nodded, "Teyvat's gods are a yoke, but also a shield."
"Liyue's strength is tied to Morax—sever that, and chaos creeps in," he cautioned.
Keqing's dream flickered, tested by the brutal mirror he held up.
She admired Zhongli, yet yearned to break free of divine strings.
Xander's tale offered no easy path, only a stark, sobering lens.
The Shadowfang Blade at his side thrummed, a quiet echo to their clash.
"Could Liyue stand alone, even so?" she pondered, voice soft.
"Perhaps, but not without scars deeper than you'd wish," he replied.
Her gaze drifted, wrestling with a future she couldn't yet shape.
Xander sipped his wine, the meal a footnote to their weighty exchange.
He'd dodged her wrath, now sowing seeds in her restless mind.
Liyue hummed beyond, blind to the storm brewing in her heart.
The broadcast slept, its next jest a distant ripple he'd yet to stir.
Keqing's quest for mortal rule met a wall, one he'd built with truth.
***
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