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Again and again.
He finds comfort in the monotony.
Wake up. Get ready. Indoctrinate the newest batch of recruits. Spar with them. Run a few kilometers to get the blood pumping. Slaughter some hilichurls just to feel something.
Repeat as needed.
The feeling of his muscles screaming at him to stop is a welcome change from the numbness.
Her Majesty assigned him with a new task: to gain the Gnosis from Liyue's archon, Morax.
Travel by ship there. Act like he has a spark within him. Help out on the ship.
The spark was snuffed out years ago, when he fell into the abyss.
He stepped into Liyue Harbour.
Too much noise.
Figure out the lodgings. Unpack the precious little you brought. Run around the surrounding area just to figure out his running route.
His mind kept on racing through the checklist.
He trains all day, fighting against imaginary opponents who will never leave the sting of an open wound.
He sits there, not knowing what to do. Awaiting orders. For what is he? He is the Tsaritsa's Vanguard, the Eleventh Harbinger, nothing more than a pawn. Numb. Unfeeling.
He cries himself to sleep, and wakes up once more to restart the cycle.