The morning sun of Sumeru filtered through the leaves of the Divine Tree, casting a dappled, emerald-tinged light over the waking city. It was a light that felt distinct from the golden, amber glow of Liyue or the crisp, blue clarity of Mondstadt; it was a light that felt alive, breathing with the rhythm of the forest.
Inside the comfortable, book-filled alumni house, the remnants of their camping trip—the smell of woodsmoke on their clothes, the memory of grilled mushrooms—had been washed away, replaced by the fresh scent of coffee and the anticipation of the day's tasks.
Ren sat at the dining table, a piece of toast halfway to his mouth, his mind already miles away. The sightseeing was wonderful, the camping trip a delightful reprieve, but the weight of his true mission here pressed gently against his thoughts. The patents. It wasn't just paperwork; it was the construction of a legal fortress around his creations. Yanfei's warnings and Lisa's advice echoed in his mind. In a world where Harbingers like Dottore roamed and gods ruled, a piece of paper stamped with the seal of the Akademiya was a shield as tangible as any Cryo barrier he could summon.
"I should get started," Ren announced, setting his toast down. "The forms… there are going to be a lot of them. If I want to get the heater, the refrigerator, the hoverboard, and the… other devices processed before we leave, I can't delay."
Lisa, who was lounging gracefully on a divan with a cup of tea, smiled over the rim of her cup. "A diligent little bee, aren't we? The House of Daena would be the best place for that. It's quiet, spacious, and has the distinct advantage of being right next to the administrative archives. I can take you there."
She uncurled herself from the divan, her movements fluid and languid. "Besides, watching a cute little genius conquer the bureaucracy of the Akademiya sounds like a terribly entertaining way to spend a morning."
Ningguang, who was standing by the window adjusting her elegant gloves, turned to them. Her aura was already shifting from the relaxed vacationer back to the formidable Tianquan.
"That settles it then," she said, her voice smooth and decisive. "With Lisa guiding you, I have no concerns for your safety within the Akademiya grounds. As for myself… I believe I shall take a stroll through the Grand Bazaar and the Treasures Street."
She picked up a small, elegant clutch. "It seems word of my arrival has traveled faster than the wind. Several prominent merchants from the Kalimi Exchange have sent urgent requests for an audience. They wish to discuss trade routes, mineral rights, and, inevitably, the potential for future investments."
A small, sharp smile played on her lips—the smile of a dragon who has just spotted a pile of gold. "I suppose a few… unofficial meetings wouldn't hurt. It is always good to know the players on the board, even in a foreign land."
Ren nodded, understanding perfectly. Ningguang didn't take vacations; she simply took her empire-building to new locations. "Have fun, Lady Ningguang," he said with a grin.
"I always do," she replied. She walked over and placed a hand on his head, smoothing down his messy hair. "Do not let the scholars bore you to death, Ren. If the paperwork becomes too tedious, simply leave it. We can always hire a legion of scribes to do it for you."
"I want to do it myself," Ren insisted gently. "It's… important."
"Very well," she conceded, a flicker of pride in her eyes. "I will see you this evening."
With that, the Tianquan swept out of the house, leaving a faint scent of expensive perfume and the promise of profitable deals in her wake.
"Shall we?" Lisa asked, offering her hand.
Ren took it, and together they stepped out into the vibrant morning, heading upwards, towards the crown of the city.
The House of Daena was not merely a library. It was a cathedral dedicated to the worship of knowledge. As they ascended the spiraling ramps and entered the massive, cavernous hall, Ren felt a wave of hushed reverence wash over him. The ceiling soared hundreds of feet above, supported by pillars that looked like petrified trees. Shafts of light pierced the gloom, illuminating dust motes that danced like tiny stars.
And everywhere, there were books. Thousands upon thousands of them, lining shelves that stretched as far as the eye could see. There were scrolls, tomes, slates, and modern Akasha data crystals. It was the collective memory of Teyvat, a repository of wisdom that had survived the cataclysms of history.
Scholars in the varied colored robes of the Six Darshans moved through the space with a quiet, focused intensity. Some were arguing in hushed whispers over complex equations; others were nose-deep in ancient texts. The air hummed with the low, constant buzz of intellectual pursuit.
Lisa navigated the labyrinthine space with the ease of someone returning to their childhood home. She led Ren past the main reading areas, past the towering shelves of the Amurta Darshan, to a large, circular administrative desk nestled near the back.
Behind the desk sat a young man in the blue robes of the Rtawahist Darshan, looking thoroughly bored as he organized a stack of requisition slips. He looked up as they approached, his eyes widening slightly as he recognized the purple-clad woman.
"Lady Lisa?" he stammered, straightening his posture. "I… we hadn't expected… I mean, welcome back to the House of Daena."
"Hello, darling," Lisa purred, her charm offensive instantaneous and devastating. "I'm just helping a friend with some paperwork. We need the standard international patent application forms. And the supplementary documents for thaumaturgical engineering devices. Oh, and the forms for Class-A energetic artifact registration."
The clerk blinked, his brain stalling. "Class-A energetic… but… those are for things like Delusions or heavy ruin machinery. Who is the applicant?"
Lisa simply gestured to the small, ten-year-old boy standing beside her, whose head barely cleared the top of the desk.
"Him," she said with a sweet smile.
The clerk looked down at Ren. Ren looked up at the clerk, offering a polite, innocent smile and blinking his glowing azure eyes.
"Hello," Ren said. "I'd like the forms in triplicate, please."
The clerk stared. He looked at Lisa to see if this was a prank. He looked back at Ren. The cognitive dissonance of a child asking for high-level engineering legal documents was almost painful.
"I… uh… right," the clerk managed, his professionalism fighting a losing battle against his confusion. "Right away."
He disappeared into the back and returned a few minutes later with a stack of parchment so thick it landed on the desk with a heavy, ominous thud.
"Thank you," Ren said cheerfully. He effortlessly picked up the heavy stack—a subtle display of his enhanced strength—and turned to Lisa.
"Let's find a spot," Lisa said, leading him to a quiet, secluded corner table bathed in the soft light of a nearby stained-glass window. "I'll be right here, browsing the Spantamad section. If you get a cramp, or if the legalese becomes too dreadful, just holler."
Ren settled into the chair, which was slightly too big for him, and arranged his writing tools. He looked at the mountain of paperwork.
Name of Inventor… Nature of Device… Core Elemental Principles… Safety Protocols…
It was boring. It was tedious. It was exactly the kind of work he usually hated. But as he dipped his pen and began to write, a sense of calm focus settled over him. This wasn't just filling out boxes; it was defining his legacy.
He started with the heater. He detailed the alloy composition of the coil, the resistance values, the safety shut-offs. He wrote with a speed and precision that would have baffled any observer, his mind recalling the exact specifications from memory.
Time seemed to blur in the quiet atmosphere of the library. The sun moved across the sky, shifting the patterns of light on the floor. Ren worked steadily, his hand moving in a rhythmic dance, filling page after page with neat, blocky script.
He was halfway through the complex documentation for the hoverboard's propulsion system—specifically, the section regarding the gyroscopic stabilizers—when the silence of his corner was broken.
It was a sound of shuffling, dragging footsteps, accompanied by a low, incoherent muttering.
"…stars… alignment is off by three degrees… if I don't finish the chart… thesis defense… sleep… need sleep…"
Ren paused, his pen hovering over the paper. He looked up.
Approaching his table, moving with the coordination of a reanimated corpse, was a young woman. She had pale blue hair styled in twintails that looked like they hadn't seen a comb in a day or two, and she wore the blue robes of the Rtawahist Darshan. Her eyes were half-closed, underscored by dark circles so deep they looked like bruises.
It was Layla. The Fantastical Evening Star. The perpetually exhausted student of theoretical astrology.
She was walking towards the bookshelf next to Ren's table, but she wasn't really looking at it. She was staring at some point in the middle distance, her lips moving in a constant, feverish mumble about constellations and deadlines.
In her arms, she balanced a stack of heavy, leather-bound astronomy tomes that was easily twice the height of her head. It was a tower of knowledge that defied physics, swaying precariously with every zombie-like step she took.
"Just… one more reference… the astrolabe of the north… if I fail… my teacher will…"
She reached the shelf. She tried to reach up for a book on the higher tier.
It was a disaster waiting to happen.
Her foot caught on the edge of the carpet. She stumbled.
"Ah…"
It was a weak, tired sound. Her balance, already compromised by days of sleep deprivation, vanished. She pitched forward. The tower of books, heavy with the weight of the stars, tipped.
Gravity took hold. The books began to fall, a cascade of heavy knowledge destined to crash onto the hard stone floor—and likely onto Ren's table, ruining his hours of work.
Ren didn't think. He didn't calculate. He just moved.
His perception of time slowed. He saw the books tilting, saw the look of panic beginning to form in Layla's sleepy eyes.
He pushed off his chair.
A crackle of violet energy, silent and contained, sparked through his nervous system. His muscles, enhanced by his mastery of Electro, responded instantly.
Flash.
To anyone watching, he would have simply blurred. One moment he was sitting; the next, he was standing next to Layla.
He didn't catch them with a frantic scramble. He caught them with precision.
His small hands moved with a speed that defied the eye. He caught the bottom book, then the middle one, then the top one, snatching them out of the air before they could gain momentum. He stacked them perfectly in his arms, absorbing the weight as if it were nothing.
He stood there, holding the massive stack of books that should have made a deafening crash, looking up at the girl who had almost fallen on top of him.
Layla had steadied herself against the bookshelf, her eyes blinking rapidly, trying to process what had just happened. Her brain, sluggish from exhaustion, was struggling to catch up with reality.
She looked at the empty space where her books had been. Then she looked down.
She saw a small boy. A boy with hair like the night sky streaked with comets, and eyes that glowed with a gentle, azure luminescence. He was holding her books—books that weighed more than he did—with an effortless ease.
He wasn't even out of breath. He was just… looking at her. With concern.
"Are you okay?" Ren asked, his voice soft and gentle, so as not to startle her further.
Layla stared. The lack of sleep was playing tricks on her. The boy… he was glowing. He looked like a star that had fallen into the library and taken human form. He was blurry around the edges, radiant, and impossibly, heartbreakingly cute.
"I…" Layla mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. "The stars… they fell…?"
She rubbed her eyes, swaying slightly on her feet. "Did… did you catch them?"
Ren smiled, a patient, understanding smile. "I caught the books," he corrected gently. "You almost dropped them. You look… really tired."
Layla's knees felt weak. Not just from exhaustion, but from the sudden, overwhelming presence of this helpful little spirit.
"Tired… yes," she whispered, her cheeks flushing a faint pink as her mind tried to categorize this event. Was he a hallucination? A fairy? A very small, very helpful fairy scholar?
"My thesis…" she mumbled, her anxiety bubbling up through the fog. "I need… the charts… I can't drop them… I'll fail…"
"You didn't drop them," Ren assured her. He carefully walked over to the nearby table—his own table—and set the heavy stack down with a soft thud. "They're safe. See?"
Layla looked at the books, safe and sound. Then she looked back at Ren. The panic in her chest began to subside, replaced by a fuzzy, warm feeling of gratitude.
"You… you're very fast," she murmured, her eyes drifting shut for a second before snapping open again. "Like a shooting star."
She stumbled slightly, and Ren instinctively reached out to steady her arm.
"Maybe you should sit down?" he suggested, guiding her toward the chair opposite his. "You look like you're sleepwalking."
Layla let herself be guided. She sank into the chair, her body practically melting with relief. She looked at Ren across the table, her vision swimming. He had gone back to his seat, picking up his pen, looking for all the world like a normal child doing homework, except for the glowing eyes and the aura of calm capability.
"Who… who are you?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
Ren looked up from his form, his azure eyes meeting her tired, golden ones.
"I'm Ren," he said simply. "I'm just filling out some paperwork."
"Ren," Layla repeated, testing the name on her tongue. It sounded nice. Peaceful. "I'm Layla. I'm… I'm supposed to be writing a thesis."
She looked at the stack of books he had saved, then back at him. The adrenaline of the near-accident was fading, leaving her even more exhausted than before, but also… comforted.
"Thank you, Ren," she whispered, her head drooping. "You… you saved my stars."
Ren smiled again, returning to his work. "You're welcome, Layla. Maybe you should rest your eyes for a minute. The stars aren't going anywhere."
"Just… a minute…" Layla mumbled. She crossed her arms on the table and rested her head on them, facing him. She watched him write for a few seconds—the scratch of his pen a rhythmic, soothing lullaby—before her eyes finally closed, and she drifted into a sleep that was, for the first time in weeks, free of the anxiety of falling.
Ren watched her sleep for a moment, ensuring she was stable, before turning back to his patent forms.
From the nearby aisle of the Spantamad section, Lisa watched the entire scene, a book forgotten in her hand. She saw the flash of movement, the impossible catch, and the gentle, caring way he had settled the exhausted girl.
A soft, proud smile curved her lips. He really is something else, she thought. Fast as lightning, gentle as the breeze. The Akademiya won't know what hit it.
She turned back to her book, deciding to let the two young scholars—one brilliant and awake, one brilliant and asleep—have their peace.