Though a consciousness form couldn't wield his real cursed blade, Frostmourne, enemies of this level were the sort Idris could beat to death with a stick.
A peachwood sword flickered into his hand. He slashed casually at the hound-shaped fiends leaping aboard.
"Just steer the ship," he said. "I'll handle the trouble. Even if I've got less than a third of my real strength in here, swatting these bugs is too easy."
Sword-qi shredded the beasts as soon as they showed themselves. More crawled out of the fog as the Consciousness Ark sailed on, but each was cut down the instant it appeared.
Watching Idris move like a one-man army, Nahida relaxed and focused on piloting, guiding them toward the World Tree. Countless abyssal things took their shots along the way; none so much as slowed him. But that didn't mean the abyss wouldn't try a cheap shot.
As Idris cleaved a larger wolf-fiend in two, its body dissolved into black vapor at the last instant and swept toward Nahida. He didn't hesitate—one punch scattered it. The vapor didn't care what it clung to, though; it curled back and latched onto his fingers, staining them black-violet and sending a needle-bite of pain up his hand.
"This is… abyssal taint?"
One glance told him enough. No matter how tough your body, abyssal power could corrupt it—only a vanishingly few could resist. In the "original story," this was one of the Traveler's only two truly protagonist-like traits. (The other being that by touching a Statue of The Seven, she could freely wield elements. Shame that having many elements doesn't mean you know how to use the right one at the right time; sometimes specializing goes farther.)
The immediate problem was the spread: the stain crept past his knuckles. If he didn't suppress it with elemental power, his whole body would be corrupted before long.
"Grand Sage Idris!" Nahida called from the helm. "Hold it back with your element first—once we reach the base of the World Tree, I'll purge it for you!"
He shook his head, smiling. "No need. I've got this."
Tricky, yes—but he had a way. He flicked a pill into his mouth. The medicine melted; the black-violet fumes on his fingers vanished in a breath.
"As expected—Clear Heart Pill clears abyssal pollution cleanly. Alchemy may be a Liyue immortal art, but it really shines here in Sumeru."
Seeing the taint dispelled so easily, Nahida's face brightened. She returned her full attention to the helm. Soon the Ark crossed the threshold into Irminsul's inner domain.
The Ark dissolved underfoot. Idris and Nahida stepped onto one of the World Tree's branchways and started toward the massive trunk.
An airy voice drifted to them.
"Nahida…"
"You—are you the Greater Lord Rukkhadevata?" Nahida stared. The figure before them was small—her size.
The records called the Greater Lord a white-haired beauty, far more mature than Nahida. Yet here she stood, a mirror of the Little Auspicious Princess.
Rukkhadevata smiled gently. "Because, in essence, we are the same. You are my cycle— the purest twig broken from Irminsul's bough. When my strength is nearly gone, the form I can hold is naturally your own.
"And just so, because our natures are one, only you can wholly erase me—replace me. Even when a tree dies, a fallen bough may one day take root and grow—life continuing in another form. That is most fitting for Sumeru."
"I… see. So that's how it is?" Nahida whispered, stunned by the truth of their bond.
While she stood dazed, Rukkhadevata's gaze slid to Idris. Surprise flickered in the goddess's childlike face.
"To think that after five hundred years… you would be the one to come. How unexpected. I can even feel a thread of faith for me clinging to you—very faint, but enough to tell me who you are. You're the current Grand Sage of the Akademiya, aren't you?"
Idris nodded and stepped forward. The faint "faith" she felt was a relic of his body's original owner, a worshiper of the Greater Lord. But the owner now was Idris.
"That's right. Idris, Grand Sage of Sumeru."
"Fate does enjoy its ironies," Rukkhadevata said softly. "Five centuries ago, I would never have imagined my visitor here would be a sage of the Akademiya. And… for my own sage to stand before me without reverence—clearly you're not one to put gods on pedestals."
Idris's tone was calm. "Sumeru is better for it. Gods are no longer suited to run this nation. And—if I'm not mistaken—you don't exactly recognize me, do you?"
Nahida clamped her lips shut, tense as a daughter caught between quarreling parents.
Rukkhadevata sighed. "Perhaps because I still cling to life, I'm too prone to think of the Grand Sage as the same person, across centuries. I can barely sense the outside world now, but seeing your face, it's hard not to lump you in with those who came before. For that, I owe you an apology. I hope my sage won't begrudge a dying woman her flaws.
"And I acknowledge what you've done. I'm honored that, at the end of my life, a sage who can stand shoulder to shoulder with gods arose to save Sumeru. I never imagined an Akademiya Grand Sage could accomplish so much."
Still small, still serene, she counted them off:
"You purged Valuka and the Deadlands. You forged elixirs that cure the Withering Sickness and even abyssal corruption. You cut through Sumeru's ancient schisms and united its people. You command the God of Pure Reason, wielding divine might with a human hand.
"But it isn't enough. Not nearly enough."
Her voice grew grave.
"The World Tree's pollution will only worsen. It will not depart my body nor Irminsul on its own. My form and all proof of my existence have become inseparable from abyssal filth and forbidden knowledge. Unless you erase me, the abyss will forever stain Irminsul—Sumeru—and all of Teyvat. The Withering will return. The scales will scar again. And my strength to resist is nearly spent."
Tears pricked Nahida's eyes. She understood the price being named.
"My sage… and Nahida," Rukkhadevata said softly. "I beg you. Strike me down. Erase me—and every record of me within the World Tree. Then Nahida will inherit my permissions and truly become Irminsul's master. Sumeru—and Teyvat—will be saved."
Nahida shook her head. "But… if we erase you from Irminsul, we don't just disperse this remnant—we remove you from the world itself. After that, no one in Teyvat will remember you!"
As she cried, she heard Idris's old, half-joking warning in her mind:
If you want to sit securely on Sumeru's divine seat, you'll have to erase every proof the Greater Lord ever existed. Otherwise you'll never sit steady.
A joke then—now prophecy.
Rukkhadevata only smiled, already resigned. Knowing Nahida's heart was too kind for scenes like this, she turned to Idris.
"I've heard this era's Grand Sage is a bold man of means. Go on—persuade your Princess to end me. And don't tell me you can't raise your hand because you are—were—my sage."
Idris snorted. "That's not it. Like the Little Auspicious Princess, I won't accept your solution. I just think… Greater Lord, you're being childish."
"Ch… childish?"
Rukkhadevata blinked, stunned. In all her years alive—and these five dim centuries—no one had ever dared call her that. And for the first to be her own sage?
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