#anti fatui

And got hunted down like an animal.

You've read stuff like this so many times, and like your situation the end result was the same. You get confused with an imposter by everyone (The fanfics really didn't show how overly zealot and extremist Teyvat was with the whole "Creator" thing), insulted and abused mentally and emotionally all the while, all while running away like a madman, wanting to avoid death.

Then, you just got tired and awaited death in Snezhnaya. You were just too tired, your mind too broken to even think properly. You just prayed to whatever cruel deity put you here to at least not let you die and the hands of Dottore.

Fate, like always, had other plans however.

The first to discover your golden blood was that battle obsessed ginger. Childe was far too excited talking about how "grateful he was for Your Divine Self to bless Snezhnaya with Your Holy Presence" and dragging you to Zapolyarny Palace.

He doesn't even bother to look at your stoic face silently filling with growing hate and loathing.

Wrose of all were the Fatui Agents who previously ignored your pleas for mercy and tried to murder you now kneeling to you and treating you like a porcelain doll, thinking that being bootlickers would make amends for everything.

Childe himself was no better. Back on Liyue he almost sliced you up, and now he expects you to forget that? Was he truly that stupid? Did he think this erased his cruelty, just like his crimes against Liyue?

How dare he.

No.

How dare all of them.

And now, you were locked in the main Headquarters of the Fatui, one of the major villains of the game, with the Harbingers, who were most likely given orders to hunt you down until the truth came out, all treating you with that false adoration and devotion, all in hopes of being on your good side.

On top of that, The Tsaritsa is all the same: rambling on and on about how "she is not worthy of Your Divine Grace's presence on her land", acting as she hadn't given the Fatui orders to kill you. She even dared to dress you up in the finest clothes (Which you only accepted because yours were all tattered due to the hunt), giving you all kinds of expensive gifts, feeding you the tastiest of foods, foolishly believing that materialism spared her, that it gave her and her undoubtedly villainous organization full absolution of their actions.

You refuse to let that slide.

During all the years that Genshin Impact had existed, Hoyo had refused to make certain characters pay severe consequences for their terrible actions simply because it was far more profitable. Thus, these problematic characters, like the Fatui, were spared of things like karma or punishment.

But you were changing that.

Considering how they all declared you as this all mighty omnipotent creator of Teyvat (Who technically should be Phanes, but according to what Pierro told you, even the First Decender was below you, including the Heavenly Principles), this mean you could give out whatever order you wished, no matter how utterly ridiculous it was, and they would follow it like lamb to the slaughter.

A cold, malicious smile forms on your face. You had the perfect punishment for the Fatui, one that would completely alter the plotline of the original game, but you could care less about that. The thirst for vengeance had consumed you.

If Hoyo refused to give the Fatui, who had done awful, awful actions towards innocents and Teyvat as a whole in the game's narratives (Among them cruel experimentations, murder, raising child soldiers, etc) repercussion for all of their crimes, then you'll do it instead.

"Mercy to the Guilty is Cruelty to the Innocent". That quote came back to you for the first time in a while.

To you, the Fatui were no innocent. Some of them had tragic pasts (Mainly Arlecchino, Signora and Scaramouche), but that should NEVER be used as an excuse.

You will show them. Give them the damnation that this damned faction had a long time coming. Make them suffer, just like you did. Bring them down, begging and pleading for forgiveness.

Yes, indeed.

Your revenge will be your passion.

And your vengeance will be your justice.

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The main hall is silent. The Fatui Harbingers stand at attention, their expressions a mix of wary anticipation and cold indifference. There is no fear in their eyes. There is simply the expectation of your orders.

The Tsaritsa sits at the center, the only one not standing. Her expression does not give away her emotions, but even she is not immune to the weight of your presence.

"Your Grace," she says softly, "You summoned us."

You stand, internally oozing with sheer anticipation, but hiding behind an apathetic mask like you did the days before, "That I did, Tsaritsa. I'm sure all of you are wondering why I called you here", they all nod. They do not question your words, only waiting patiently in the expectant silence that fills the room. The Harbingers remain quiet, but you notices the brief flash of curiosity in their eyes. Clearly, they also wonder your motive for calling them here now.

"I, have an announcement to make." you finally reveal, and this obviously catches their attention. The Harbingers shift slightly, but no one dares to speak. All eyes are on you now as the room holds its collective breath, tension like a coiled spring waiting for release. Even Tsaritsa, with her mask of stoicism, leans forward ever so slightly, clearly anticipating your words. Some of them, like Childe or Signora, were even excited, thinking that you were going to start praising them like the ignorants they were.

Their expectations broke, however, with your next words:

"I, The Almighty Creator of Teyvat, hereby make My official decree that the organization know as the "Fatui", shall be disbanded and removed from existence. All who work for this organization, including the Fatui Harbingers, shall be detained and placed under arrest, prosecuted and executed. All who refuse shall be branded as renegades who dared to oppose My will. They shall be hunted down until they are dead, or cease their futile struggle. Furthermore, the current Cryo Archon shall be stripped down of her title and power, for she has proven she is not worthy. So it is said, so shall it be done."

As soon as the last words leave your mouth, the room erupts with pure chaos.

At first, it was silence....

But then?

Shock. Horror. Anger. Disbelief.

The Harbingers, alongside the few Fatui agents in the room, shout and protest, some with fear in their eyes and others with defiance. Even the usually stoic Tsaritsa cannot hide the look of horror on her face as your words sink in. You've never done a decree like this before.

Ever.

So why?

Why are you destroying something she worked hard on just for you?

Why were you degrating her like nothing?

Did she anger you somehow? Did her useless servants?

"-you're doing WHAT!?"

"B-BUT WE-"

"Your Grace, if you'd listen-"

"We did EVERYTHING for you!"

"You can't just-"

They all keep spewing excuses left and right from their mouths, hoping that whatever lies they spit out will appease and calm you down. At first, you were in glee enjoying their desperate bitching and moaning, but eventually you got irritated by their annoying whining.

"Silence."

That is all you say in order to get them to calm down. Like the loyal lapdogs they were, they almost immediately stop their ruckus, although still very agitated. Sighing in frustration, you call out to the one Harbinger who is probably the calmest of them all, "Pierro, as the First Harbinger, you may speak."

Pierro steps forward, his tall frame imposing despite the stillness of his movements. His voice, when it comes, is measured. Each word chosen carefully, as if weighing the consequences before letting them escape his lips.

"Your Grace, Your Eminence..." he begins, dipping his head slightly,not quite a bow, but an acknowledgement of your divinity. "The Fatui has served Your will for centuries. Every action, every scheme, every drop of blood spilled....it was all done in Your name."

A pause. His exposed eye glints with what seems to be hope, expecting you to see reason. Back when he was but a royal mage, Khaenri'ah had tales of how The Creator was forgiving of even some of the most fowl crimes.

"To disband us now... is to undo all of it."

He doesn’t plead. He doesn’t beg.

He merely states what he believes.

And of course the unspoken question lingers:

Was our devotion not enough?

You're not willing to let them off so easily, however.

"Oh, really?" you feign innocence in a mocking childish way, "In 'my name' you say? Well then, Pierro...why don't we take a break and look at all of the oh so beautiful things you've done for me in your adoring devotion!", you point at all of the Harbingers, who were hoping that you would actually appreciate their hard work for you.

Pierro however, had a look of distress. During all of his time living, he knew how to detect emotions. And yours, were anything but grateful.

"Let's see here..." you mutter, before pointing at the Harbingers whose crimes you actually were aware off:

"Rosalyne stole a Gnosis because she just couldn't move on from her dead lover and that apparently justifies her actions without any issue, like, I don't know, co conspiring to influence a certain Vision Hunt Decree OR supplying delusions to Watatsumi soldiers," La Signora, The Fair Lady stopped breathing, the memories of Rostam's death invading her mind once more. To hear The One True God criticize her reason of being.....it hurt immensely.

"Sandrone cut off a man's tongue because she's an antisocial fuck who gets off of sadism. She also was about to colonize Hisii Island. Why Alain trusted her, I will never know," The Marionette had an offended look on her upon hearing the insults. She worked hard to preserve Alain's research, and she even had gifted you the best Automaton she could have ever made for Your delight. Did you want more? Is that what you need in order to be pleased?

"Pantalone is a greedy sack of shit who partially influenced the Fatui shitfest over at Liyue because he bitched and moaned that he never got a Vision," The Regrator's smile twitched nerviously as you pointed at him. If anyone should be blamed by what happened at Liyue, it should be Tartaglia.

Maybe you weren't please by what you currently have. Yes, as soon as this is over, he would buy you all of the luxurious pleasures Mora could get. Enough to make that Tianquan jealous.

"Pulcinella practically indoctrinated Tartaglia, and child grooming is one of the things I fucking hate with a passion," The Rooster sighed and shook his head at your accusation.

He....was well aware he wasn't the greatest mayor, but to be accused of something grave like that, and by The Creator, nonetheless....

"Columbina thinks that being near scumbags like you is actually going to do her any good. She might as well side with the damn Abyss just to piss on the tombs of the Moon Sisters," The Damselette just had a sad frown as her expression. Hearing all of this spite towards her from you was...depressing, enough to make the Frost Moon weep.

"Scaramouche, or should I say Kunikuzushi, has the same problem as Rosalyne. He thinks that just because he's had loved ones perished by his side, that it automatically makes it fine for him to, say, destroy the schools of the Raiden Gokaden. I understand why you ended up this way, and believe me, Beelzebul is at fault as well, and will be dealt with.... but Niwa and that child would be disappointed in you, Kabukimono," The Balladeer gritted his teeth and tried his best to not have his emotions explode.

He wanted to scream, to yell that you didn't understand, that you didn't experience loss like he did, that you betrayed him as well when you failed to respond to his cries for help....but that was suicide.

He would never say that. Not to you.

Never towards you.

And yet, something about your words was reassuring. Especially that bit about you confronting his mother creator.

"Capitano, while I'm not fully aware of what you did before and after Khaenri'ah fell, as commander in chief of the Fatui's troops you are also to blame for all of the crimes that your troops have caused, including injuring and potentially murdering civilians. And if I remember correctly, you had part in the cruelty towards the saurians in Natlan at the Phlogiston stations manned by the Fatui," The Captain simply lowered his head.

Your words....had merit to them.

Being the first-ranked Harbinger, all others are subordinates to him, and whatever things they did, involved him in some way or other. He felt ashamed, disgusted even.

Being cursed with immortality meant nothing compared to being shamed on by The God of Gods he so kindly worshipped back at Khaenri'ah. He should've controlled his troops more.....

"Childe, Tartaglia, Ajax or whatever fucking name you go by now....you're an absolute fucking moron. You unsealed Osial just to have him wreck Liyue because apparently genocide is nothing but funny to you, but that's not what pisses me off about you. You're nothing more than a disgusting battle junkie, looking for the most ridiculous reasons to fight someone. Hell, I still remember how you just tossed at sword at me and practically teased and mocked me into wanting to fight you. Actually, you know something, Tsaritsa? This idiot only joined you because he wanted an excuse to fight people. I'd be surprised, but it's a well known fact that gingers are soulless," Tartaglia fearfully smiled as his Archon's cold and angry gaze reached him upon hearing of his true intentions.

Sure, he pretty much almost destroyed Liyue....almost. Thankfully Morax was there to fix things. It was that old man's fault for hiding and refusing to do his proper job as an Archon.

Plus, what happened with you was just a great misunderstanding, surely you could forgive him....right?

He was the first one to find you at their motherland, after all.

Also, that bit about him being "soulless" was totally uncalled for! He wasn't that bad, and he already apologixed deeply for his heretical actions against you!

"Arlecchino, or rather Peruere, shares a reocurring problem. She feels like her sob story is the perfect excuse to raising child soldiers, manipulating them emotionally into thinking that she is an absolute saint and that they are doing no wrong by refusing to question her. On top of that, I recall her trying to steal the Hydro Gnosis, which resulted in one Furina being traumatized. Frankly Peruere, you are no different from Crucabena," The Knave's eyes darkened upon hearing the comparison with her predecessor.

While she can understand why you are so upset over things related to children, she too was an abandoned orphan like her many "children". And she swore to never be like the previous Knave.

After you finally calm down, she would take you to the House of the Hearth of the house to see that your accusations were thankfully wrong. The children were extremely thankful of her care, so hopefully that will put you at ease. That, and her own series of events about what happened with Furina.

"Dottore-no, Zandik.....I don't think I even need to explain what you have done," The Doctor just stood there in silence, watching you.

He knew.

He knew that you were not wrong. The fact that you were aware of his past at the Akademiya meant that you were full aware of each and every single one of his crimes against humanity.

For as much arrogance and delusions he had, he knew better than to question Their Excellency. Not even his plan to elevate humans to God-levels had any hope of reaching you.

"Pierro....look. I am deeply sorry for what happened to Khaenri'ah, I truly am. I haven't descended by that point, but if I did, you know I would have stopped the Heavenly Principles from destroying it. But like I have said before, your past is no excuse for what you do in the future. Vengeance agains the Gods has turned you into an extremist who won't see the severe damage he has caused. As Director of the Fatui, you are 100% guilty of all previous crimes, as you were the one who acted as overseer for all operations, thus meaning that you approved of all of the most severe. On top of that, you also personally recruited some of the worst," The Jester just closed his eyes in sorrow.

He couldn't deny your words. How could he? They were scaringly accurate. In fact, most of the arguments were. Flawless even.

But, a small part of him, stubborn and prideful, kept taking trying to take control. To convince you into keeping the organization intact.

He worked his hardest, shedding blood and tears just so that the Fatui got to the position it currently was in. He had sacrificed so much, just so he and Tsaritsa could gain reputation and power all throughout Teyvat.

As for the Cryon Archon herself? She didn't know what to do in this situation. During the Cataclysm, she promised the Belyi Tsar that she would do all in her power to appease your body, mind and soul before she perished in Tsaritsa's arms. Then, Khaenri'ah was destroyed, and she swore to herself that she would end the Gods and Heavenly Principles so that You would once again take your rightful place in Existence, with her at your divine side.

And now, you were ending all that she worked for specifically for you abruptly.

Her devotion for her work clashed with her love for you.

"So yeah, if it wasn't clear enough by this point, all you people do is create fuck up after fuck up. And in order to NEVER take responsibility for your fucked up actions, you use me as an excuse, because apparently I ordered you to do things like indoctrinate children or perform painful tortures and illegal experimentations. Looking at you, Zandik."

A low murmur ripples through the room after you finish your long rant. Some of the Harbingers begrudgingly accept your criticism despite how unfairly harsh it was in their eyes, while others bristle at the insult to their pride, but decide to hold their tongues. They know better than to argue with THE God.

Pierro, albeit accepting his mistakes, tries to remain unperturbed with his composure still ironclad. There is no emotion in his voice as he continues.

"We have made mistakes," he admits quietly, "Every organization has its flaws. But the results we've achieved..." he pauses—a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Surely even you cannot deny our accomplishments."

You just shake your head at seeing Pierro still continue to use excuses for all of their crimes, "Did you not hear a single word of what I just said? I literally listed each and every single one of your felonies. On top of that, your organization is a parasite. It uses whatever means are available to exploit, like economics or fair trades, and once you see the opportunity you reveal your true colors, not caring of how many blood you spill to the ground, regardless if they're citizens or children. You're all oppressive, radical, inhumane and pathetic sycophants who are the slaves of an heretical, tyrannical monarch who wants to expand their false superiority over all of the other nations because apparently it was 'all done in my most gracious name'."

Pierro's, and everyone else's mouth were closed shut as you finish your monologue. No one knows what to say.

The one Being that could bypass Celestia and the Descenders had just destroyed their group.

The God who The Heavenly Principles could bow down to despised their very existence.

But you were far from finished, "As a matter of fact, you weren't even meant to exist. Speaking of which, Tsaritsa, when the hell did I allow You to create an Organization?" The Tsaritsa’s breath catches—for the first time in centuries, her composure falters. Her fingers tighten imperceptibly on the armrests of her throne as she meets your gaze.

"You didn’t," she admits, voice brittle. "I acted... out of necessity. Ever since Khaenri'ah fell and the Abyss came, I knew I needed to protect my subjects. To shield them from the Abyss. To make the Heavenly Principles see that we only responded to you. To prepare us for the war-"

Her eyes flicker toward Pierro—then back to you.

"-for You. I did it...because I wanted your praise."

Silence. The other Harbingers stand frozen, their faces unreadable.

You just scoff, "And look how that fucking worked out, Tsaritsa. You're nothing more than a rat. In fact, all of you are. And now, for managing to piss me off even more, my decree will immediately take effect as of right now. And on top of that, I will enact punishments."

Without even leaving them time to breathe, you retaliate, "First, Pantalone, you WILL give out all of your ENTIRE fortune. Mora will be no longer needed, as I hereby ban it in Snezhnaya. " all jaws drop upon the revelation of your first punishment. Pantalone, for the first time ever, open his eyes, revealing light yellow eyes that looked at you in astonishment and pleading.

"Now....you know? I feel like the Fourth and Eleventh should be next." The two Fatuis mentioned are invaded by fear. Tartaglia looks slightly pale, his eyes averted, while Arlecchino's gaze remains fixed firmly on the ground.

But, gathering all the mental strength she had gained throughout all the years, The Knave steps forward. Her eyes meeting yours without a hint of fear, but there is some unease in them She's one of the few who dares to hold your gaze.

"Your Grace, may I... speak freely?" her voice is cold, but there's something else in it, a quiet intensity that hints at the true extent of her loyalty. You roll your eyes and this makes her swallow hard, a muscle in her jaw clenching as she takes a moment to collect herself.

And yet, she perseveres, the words coming out in a slow, measured cadence. "I have made mistakes... I will admit it. But to say I was wrong... that, I will not accept. My loyalty..." her voice trembles, but her eyes remain locked with yours, unflinching.

"...has always been to you alone."

Your response? Brief silence before dropping another bombshell onto them, "You know what? Peruere, I hereby declare that the House to the Hearth is to be closed down and demolished. Lyney, Lynette and Freminet are to be arrested for joining you."

Arlecchino stiffens, a slight twitch of her fingers the only outward sign of the turmoil inside her. Her eyes darken, something dangerous flickering in them for the briefest moment before she forces herself to kneel.

"Your Grace..." Her voice is barely above a whisper now, tight, controlled. "They are children. They acted under my orders. Punish me, not them." you just shake your head in exasperation. How many times will they use their excuses?

"My word is final, Peruere." For a brief moment, Arlecchino disappears and Peruere takes over, not moving. She remains kneeling, head bowed, hands clenched at her sides. The air around her thrums with something unspoken. Anger? Grief? Resignation? It's impossible to tell.

Then—slowly—she lifts her head.

"...Then I will share their fate."

Her voice is firm, without any hesitation or regret.

But you refuse to back down.

"No. You will see their fate. I will make sure of that." You strictly spit out those words with aggression beneath. Arlecchino goes still, her eyes widening ever so slightly. The defiance has been shattered. Watching the children she had raised herself be arrested and the orphanage that she worked so hard to improve from the hell hole that it used to be was worse than any punishment you could have given her. Worse than death.

Her hands tremble, and she has to press her lips together to stop them from shaking. "Your Grace... Mercy," she whispers. "I beg you."

Everything is silent for a good minute. You, the Harbingers, nobody makes a sound.

Then, you open your palm.

"...give me your hand."

A beat. Then, slowly, hesitantly, Arlecchino extends her hand in the space between you. Her breaths are shallow—almost inaudible. She won't look at you.

Suddenly-

*CRACK*

A sickening snap echoes through the silent hall. Arlecchino doesn’t cry out—doesn’t even flinch. But her breath hitches, her hand twitching in your grip as she bites down hard on her tongue to keep silent. Blood beads at the corner of her lips.

The other Harbingers watch in frozen horror. Even Tsaritsa’s face is ashen.

"One for every failure you did," you murmur, gripping another finger.

Another crack.

Still, no scream.

Just the ragged gasp of a woman who refuses to break.

That made you angry.

"Speak, Peruere. I want to hear you scream." your apathetic order with that eerie nonchalant tone made her shudder. Her shoulders are trembling ever so slightly, but she still hasn’t uttered a sound. Even now, when she must be in pain...

It seems you'll have to try harder.

"Fucking disgrace..." you mutter before kicking her across the face with as much force as possible, "You call yourself a "Father"!?" the impact sends her sprawling backward, her body skidding across the polished floor. Blood sprays from her lips—a vivid crimson streak against the pristine marble. For a moment, she doesn’t move.

Then, slowly but surely, she pushes herself up onto her elbows. Her breath comes ragged, her jaw clenched tight against the pain.

"...I am their Father," she rasps, voice shredded yet defiant. Blood drips from her chin as she meets your gaze head-on.

"And I will burn this world to ash before I let you hurt them."

Everything goes quiet.

They all heard what The Knave said.

She dared to talk back.

She just begged for death.

You smile. It isn’t a kind smile. In fact, it looks almost feral—the grin of a predator closing in on its prey.

Arlecchino seems suddenly aware of her mistake. Her eyes go wide, her mouth open and closing silently—as if suddenly realizing what she just did.

Tsaritsa looks likes he's going to be sick. The other Harbingers are frozen in place. They know. They know that there is no coming back from this.

"...what, did you just say, Peruere?"

Her breathing stops. For the first time—since the moment she knelt before you—there is fear in her eyes. Raw, undiluted.

She realizes it now.

She has crossed a line that cannot be uncrossed.

CRACK.

Your fist meets her jaw before she can even apologize—sending her crashing back to the ground. The others do not dare move a finger. The Knave just dug her own grave.

For a long moment, all you can hear is labored breathing. Arlecchino pushes herself up slowly—one hand braced against the ground for support. The other one clutches her jaw, her teeth gritted in defiance. Her cheek is already swelling where you hit her.

But she doesn't look away from you. Ever defiant—never weak.

"You fucking moron. You think you can do whatever you want!?" This time, filled with unadulterated rage, you kick her ribcage. There’s a sickening and sharp crunch as your kick connects with her ribs. She crumples in an instant, head bowed, shoulders hunched. There's a strangled cry that she cuts off before it can escape.

For the first time - for just a moment - her mask of steel slips. And you like that.

Then... just as suddenly, her gaze flicks up to meet yours. The fire sparks back, defiant, unyielding.

"Face it, you worthless piece of shit," you exclaim, angered at her refusal to back down, before slamming her head on the ground. "whether you admit it or not, you are just as awful as Crucabena!"

The comparisons to the previous Knave and her tormentor hurt more than the physical pain. Her eyes go glassy as her skull meets the stone. The impact dislodges more blood—a thin rivulets trickling down her cheek—but she barely even blinks at the pain. The only hint of her torment is the way her fingers flex against the ground, her whole body trembling with barely-repressed grunts of pain.

Stil, she doesn't scream.

"All of you," you point towards the Harbingers and their Archon, who just watch, not knowing what to do, "I want ALL of You, to keep watching." Pushing her to lay on her stomach, you place a foot on her back.

Reaching down, you yanked her arm upward.

A loud pop is heard as it is dislocated.

"ARGH—"

For the first time, Arlecchino lets out a strangled cry—her voice hoarse and pained. Blood-matted hair falls over her eyes, the floor cold against her face even through her suit.

The spectators just watch in stunned silence.

She tries to push herself up—arm useless, body shaking. Blood streams from her eyes—her face bruised. She lets out a desperate gasp for air, her chest heaving with the effort.

With a newfound feeling of sadism, you brought your heel down on her kneecap, shattering it. Her leg snapped, bent in the completely wrong direction.

Arlecchino screamed. She writhes in agony—tears streaming down her cheeks as her cries fill the chamber—but no matter how much it hurt, she cannot escape. You've broken her for good. Her strength—her spirit… all broken.

All the while, you threw insults and swear words at her.

Signora stands rigidly still, closing her eyes and wincing at the violence being witnessed.

Sandrone clutches her mechanical companion close, as if it could shield her from the horror.

Pantalone looks like he might faint. His usual sharp businesslike demeanor long gone. He knows there is no mora that can save him from this fate.

Pulcinella looks away entirely, his wrinkled face twisted in revulsion.

Columbina—ever serene—has finally lost her composure, lips parted in silent shock.

Scaramouches stares with his eyes completely wide. The puppet doesn't notice it, but he's shaking. He's witnessing the wrath of a true God.

Capitano, the unshakable warrior, stands frozen—his armored fists clenched so tightly they tremble.

Tartaglia, usually brash and cocky, just has a slack-jawed stare of disbelief and terror. This isn't combat, not even punishment...it was pure sadism.

Pierro has gone utterly silent, reducing himself to look at the floor. He knows this could have been him, had he spoken more.

Even Dottore —who has vivisected men alive without blinking—stares with something uncomfortably close to unease.

As for the Tsaritsa? Her face is as pale as the snow outside. She doesn't speak; she doesn't move to intervene as you brutalize one of her Harbingers (she can't). For all her power and influence as the Cryo Archon...against you, she is nothing more but another mortal trembling before judgement.

This was a lesson carved in blood: None are exempt.

"You groomed children and put them in danger, you wretched fuck!" you continue rambling, practically spitting on her battered body, "You brainwashed them into joining this shitty organization! You ARE as bad as Crucabena! Clervie would be disgusted by you! Hell, I bet she wished you died instead!"

That, is what damages her the most.

Arlecchino—no, Peruere—stops breathing.

Her body goes rigid beneath your foot.

Something in her eyes—something deep—shatters.

The pain doesn’t matter anymore.

The blood doesn’t matter.

Even the agony of her shattered limbs fades into static.

Clervie.

Clervie, who laughed like sunlight. Clervie, who trusted her. Clervie, who died because she wasn’t strong enough.

Her voice is raw—just a whisper now.

"...she would."

And for the first time since her torment began—

She stops fighting back.

A single tear rolls down her ruined face, cutting through the blood. You kneel down, grab her by the hair, and whisper in her ear, "You have no spine, no blade, no tools. Nothing. You are no Harbinger. In the end, you are still that pitiful, scared little girl who got abandoned by her parents."

Her breath catches—her eyes wide and filled with tears, and the pupils blown. She looks like a wounded animal backed into a corner, her body trembling violently despite the pain. Something inside her—some last shred of defiance—crumbles.

Her voice is barely audible—a broken whisper.

"...I know."

She doesn’t deny it. She doesn’t even try.

Because she knows.

And so do you.

The grand hall of Zapolyarny Palace, once a symbol of the Fatui’s ironclad might, now felt like a slaughterhouse. The air is thick with the scent of blood and the echoing sounds of Arlecchino’s broken gasps and silent weeping.

All thanks to you.

"Zandik!" the Doctor perks up as you call him by his true name now that the massacre is over, "You may take away this filth to heal it up...if you can stitch it back together, that is." Dottore—no, Zandik—steps forward. His expression is unreadable as he looks down at Arlecchino's broken form. There's no mockery in his voice when he speaks, only cold efficiency.

"Understood, Your Grace."

He crouches beside her, his gloved hands moving with clinical precision as he assesses the damage. Blood stains his sleeves as he lifts her—her body limp, her breathing shallow. The other Harbingers watch in silence, their faces tight with varying degrees of horror, disgust, and pity.

As he carries her away, the only sound left in the hall is the steady drip of blood on marble.

And the weight of your wrath still hangs heavy over them all.

Who’s next?

To be continued....

(A/N: I won't lie this was pretty cathartic to write. I recall there being SAGAU fics where the reader straight up gets extra pissed off and basically gives out punishments where the ones who hunt them are fucked over. Sadly it appears that they are gone now. Also there were a few fics where reader takes advantage of the Creator position to practically screw over the Genshin crew. Can't recall them tho...

...is to be immediately shut down, with every attempt to convince them resulting in failure.

And to make matters worse, they had humiliated The Knave, one of the strongest Harbingers. Reduced her to a bleeding, broken mess of what was an intimidating figure among the Fatui.

And to make matters worse, you were not finished.

"Now..." you stated, causing everyone else to hold their breath, wondering who was the next poor soul to feel Their Grace's wrath, "...Ajax. your family is to be placed under arrest for bring the relatives of a Fatui member."

Childe—Ajax— feels his whole world completely shatter.

He snaps his head toward you, face completely frightened and filled with some anger. His breath hitches—his hands curling into fists before he forces them to relax. The others stiffen, eyes darting between him and you.

"Y-Your Grace," he chokes out, voice rough. "My family—they’re civilians. They have nothing to do with the Fatui—"

You raise a hand.

Silence.

His mouth clicks shut.

"Ignorance is not an excuse, Tartaglia," is all you say as a response.

Childe starts to hyperventilate. He was somewhat wiling to face the same beating that the Knave received if it meant keeping his loved ones away from your anger, but you were dragging them into this? They, who had made sure to render tribute for you and prayed for your protection for as long as he remembered?

He couldn't comprehend this.

What happened to you?

Why were you going to lock away some of your faithful servants? Hell, his siblings were not even young enough to warrant jail time!

Tartaglia drops to one knee—not out of respect, but sheer desperation. His hands are pressed flat against the floor, fingers digging into the marble as if he could carve his plea into it.

"Your Grace—please—" His voice cracks. "They're children. My brothers, my sister—they don't even know what the Fatui is."

The Tsaritsa finally stirs, her frost-laced gaze flickering toward you—but she says nothing. She knows better.

Pierro’s jaw clenches.

You lean forward, resting your chin on your hand.

"Should've thought of that before pledging your life to a traitor’s cause."

His devastated look made you more satisfied.

But, just like Peruere, you were not finished.

"You want the truth? You're nothing more than an heinous, immoral bastard. One who's so obsessed with fighting to realize he ain't the top dog around. You are but a small fish in a big pond,A but you are too stupid and braindead to acknowledge it. In fact, you're an brutish animal. All I need to do is point at a random person and you'll go fight it immediately with no question whatsoever. Fights are like dogtreats to you, because that is what you are: a filthy, disgusting, mentally deficient and useless leashed dog who follows every simple command abecause he has nothing better to do with their pathetic, meaningless and insignificant life. One who would do anything to please its master because without them they are nothing more than a fucking cockroach."

That was the last straw.

Losing every kind of rational thinking that he had, Tartaglia went to try and lunge at you, were he not restrained by Capitano holding him in his strong grip. He grits his teeth, his gaze locked onto you as he's immobile. His shoulders tremble—his face pinched in suppressed fury.

"Control yourself," Capitano growled, trying to make the brash Eleventh stop his temper tantrum. But it was futile. Childe kep trying to escape his grip, refusing to accept that this wasn't a situation he could just simply brawl his way out of.

He attempts to activate Foul Legacy, but strangely, nothing happens.

Unknown to him, Foul Legacy absolutely refused to appear.

The reason?

It feared you.

How could it not? You were the Creator. The Most Powerful Being in all of existence. With a mere snap, you could undo and recreate Teyvat an indefinite amount of time.

It would never dream of fight you.

No matter how hard Ajax tried, Foul Legacy would never allow him to wield its power against you. It did not want to experience annihilation at your hand.

The last thing he lets you see before he's knocked out by a hard hit from the Captain is his clenched fists and the muscles twitching in his jaw—a desperate attempt to hold back an endless wave of rage.

"...I deeply apologize for this, Your Grace," mutters Capitano as he places Tartaglia's unconscious body on the ground. Pulcinella looks fully embarrased by this whole ordeal. Why on Your Name did he allow this foolish brat join the Fatui in the first place again if all he did was bring problems with his battle obsession?

The room is quiet for a moment, until...

"Your Grace."

Pierro speaks—his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

You do not even bother with looking directly at him, "I would carefully watch my words if I were you, Pierro."

Pierro goes still. The air in the throne room grows thick with tension, the remaining Harbingers holding their breath. Finally, Pierro bows his head—just slightly—and steps back.

"...Understood."

His tone is clipped—controlled. But the slight defiance in his posture doesn’t go unnoticed.

You smile.

Good.

Let him stew in it.

"Tsaritsa..." the Cryo Archon pays careful attention to your words. For some reason, they do not feel...malicious, "The Cryo Gnosis. Hand it over. You are no longer the Cryo Archon, thus you no longer have the right to keep it."

The Tsaristsa stares at your open palm—gaze locked on it like a hawk. Her eyes flicker to your face, then back to your hand.

A muscle flickers in her jaw, and you can practically hear her teeth grinding together as she struggles to keep up the illusion of composure. But the subtle trembling in her shoulders—the barely hidden denial and fear in her eyes—those betray her. She looks as if she might refuse. For a split second.

But then...

She slowly reaches out. And the Gnosis appears, before floating towards your hand.

As you hold the Cryo Gnosis in your hands, you adress the remaining Harbingers "If I were you, I would surrender immediately before I make what happened to Khaenri'ah a mere temper tantrum." The Harbingers go completely still—their breath caught in their lungs as they watch you hold the Tsaritsa's gnosis in your palm. The silence is so thick, you can practically hear the rapid beating of their hearts as the Harbingers struggle to keep their composure in the face of such a chilling threat.

"Kneel, if you don't want to end up like those two idiots. You too, Tsaritsa." Tsaritsa hesitates—her fingers twitching at her sides, her pride warring with the cold reality of defiance. But as she meets your gaze—unflinching, absolute—she understands: there is no winning this.

Slowly, she sinks to her knees, her gown pooling around her like spilled frost. The sight of their Cryo Archon kneeling—submissive, gnosisless—is enough to make even the most defiant Harbinger falter.

One by one, they quickly follow.

The message is clear.

Disobedience will not be tolerated again.

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You view how The House of the Hearth is wrecked and demolished before going up in flames as a last minute request from you. As Crucabena's home of horrors burns to the ground, the children who once lived there are escorted, terrified and screaming as the building collapses in front of them. Fire engulfs furniture and decor, smoke filling the air with choking, acrid fumes. Children cry and cling to each other, their eyes wide with panic and terror.

You sigh in disappointment. It would take a long time before they realize the huge favor you did for them, how they were now spared from beingjust mere tools used by their "Father". Speaking of which....

"I told you, Peruere. I told you I would make you watch."

Peruere looks somehow more broken than before after Dottore healed her. Her face is pale beneath the grime, her eyes hollow. She can only be on her knees, her broken body trembling with a mixture of shock, fear, and grief as Fontaine's Gardemeks restrained her. She looks at the kids—the young ones she once cared for, now being ushered out.

"Your... Your Grace..." She croaks, her voice hoarse. "They're just... innocents...this was...their home..." Peruere tries to push herself up—to stand on her good leg—but she can't. She's weak—broken—and she knows it.

She doesn't look at you anymore. Her gaze is fixed on an empty spot on the ground, and even through all the dust and smoke, you can see the tears glistening in her eyes.

You crouch down in front of her, gripping her chin with bruising force to force her gaze back up to yours.

"Look at me when I'm speaking to you, worm."

Her breath hitches—her pupils dilating with terror—but she obeys.

Her stare is blank. Empty. Like all the fight has been drained out of her.

And you smile.

Because this?

This is true victory.

You lean in close—your lips brushing against her ear as you whisper:

"You were never their Father."

"You were never anything at all."

Then—you stand—leaving her there.

Broken.

Alone.

Just as she always feared she would be.

But, it appears that this day would get more better for you.

"FATHER! YOUR GRACE!"

You smile happily as the Gardes and Gardemeks stop two magicians and one diver from reaching you. The three "children" introduced in Fontaine are restrained just as quickly, but they refuse to give up.

Lyney's voice cracks as he thrashes against the Gardemek's grip, his magician's gloves smeared with soot from the crumbling House. "Your Grace—please—we didn't mean to—!"

Lynette, ever silent, doesn't speak. But her wide, terrified eyes say enough—her ears pinned flat against her head as she watches you stand over their broken Father.

Freminet—who has always been the softest, the most introverted—sobs openly, his diving helmet falling to the ground. "She—she protected us—!" His voice is muffled, hysterical. "Why are you—why?!"

Arlecchino's breath rasps—her shattered body jerking weakly toward them, her fingers scraping bloody trails across the stone floor.

"...D-don't..." Her voice is barely audible. "Don't... look."

She doesn't want them to see her like this.

Broken.

Defeated.

But they do.

And the horror in their faces is delicious.

But you're not satisfied, like always.

"Gardes, let it be known that these three are to be executed for conspiring with the Fatui. I want every trace of this organization to have never existed. And while you're at it, make her watch as well."

They.

Cannot.

Breathe.

This makes their already distressed minds lose their sanity even worse.

Lyney’s knees hit the ground as he struggles against the Gardemek’s grip, his voice raw with desperation. "Your Grace, PLEASE—she wasn't perfect, but she saved us! She took us in when no one else would—!" His gloved hands clutch at the air, as if he could reach through the distance and shake sense into you. "If you hate her so much, then punish us instead! We’re her sin—not her!"

Lynette, trembling violently, finally finds her voice—her usual calm shattered into fractured pleas. "She—she loved us...!" Her ears flatten against her skull, tears streaking through the ash on her face. "She was the only one who ever did—!"

Freminet chokes on his own sobs, his helmet crushed by one of the Gardes as ordered by you. "Y-You don’t understand—Crucabena was far worse—!" His voice cracks into a wail. "She was kind—she was good to us—PLEASE—!"

Peruere jerks violently at their cries, her shattered body convulsing as she tries and fails to crawl toward them. Tears beginning to form in the eyes of what used to be one of the most feared Fatui.

"L-Look away—" she rasps, her voice a shattered thing. "DON’T—DON’T WATCH—!"

You stomp your foot on her head. The impact is brutal—her skull slamming against the stone with a sickening crack. Blood sprays from her nose, her mouth, her split brow—a grotesque halo of red spreading beneath her face.

Her body jerks once—a spasm of agony—before going terrifyingly still. But she’s not unconscious. No. Her fingers twitch. Her breath wheezes—wet and ragged. And her eyes, though glazed with pain, remain open—staring blankly at the ground as tears mix with the blood pooling beneath her.

She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t even try.

Because she can’t. Not anymore.

The damage is done. And the only sound left is the distant, fading screams of her children—and the slow, ragged breaths of a woman who has lost everything.

All the fight is long gone from her.

Even if she did, it would be futile. The power of the Crimson Moon do not answer. The Balemoon Rising wing reimained dormant, and her transformation, Cinder of Two Worlds' Flames seemingly ceased to be.

It was you, without a doubt. You most likely used your divine powers to nullify her own, reducing her to a weak and pathetic husk.

The woman who wielded fire like a second heartbeat now lies utterly powerless beneath your boot, bleeding and broken without even the comfort of divine fury to cling to.

Peruere doesn’t scream for help from gods who no longer acknowledge her. She doesn’t beg again. She just lies there—bloodied, broken, forgotten —as reality sinks in:

Her children are gone.

Her orphanage is no more.

Her god does not care.

She doesn’t curse you or beg again. She just… exists there, half-dead on the ground, realizing with terrifying clarity:

She was never meant to win.

The universe itself has abandoned her.

All so it could help out its own Maker.

The End...