"What other Gnosis?"
Idris smiled—answering without answering.
Seeing that look, the Doctor's expression went pitch-black. "The Dendro Gnosis," he said coldly. "Don't tell me you're refusing to hand it over."
"When," Idris asked mildly, "did I ever say I'd give you the Little Auspicious Princess's Gnosis?"
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Doctor."
A killing chill rolled off the Doctor in waves. Idris answered with the pressure of a crowned king. Now that he sat on that throne in name and in truth, his aura had become nearly tangible. An average man would have folded under a single glance.
The Doctor was no average man—but the desk between them still powdered to dust under the collision of force.
"Good thing I finished stamping the memorials," Idris said, unhurried. "Now when you pay damages, it's only the desk you owe me for. Quite a bargain, don't you think?"
"Enough." The Doctor flicked his hand, voice flat with anger. "I've tolerated you long enough, Grand Sage. Are you breaking your word?"
Even as he snapped, he was rattled—this pressure from Idris was stronger than a month ago. The crown had indeed made the man.
"Breaking my word?" Idris rose lazily. "Our contract never said I'd hand you the Dendro Gnosis. You assumed that yourself. For a Fatui Harbinger, you're being… awfully naïve."
Grinding his teeth, the Doctor pulled out their contract and scanned it. The wording was plain: after half a month and after Idris had finished using the Gnosis, he would hand it over in exchange for the segmentation technique.
It said a Gnosis. Not two.
Handing over one fulfilled the letter. And the Dendro Gnosis belonged to Sumeru in the first place—unlike Inazuma's, which in his hands had been a liability best traded away.
But to the Doctor, who'd already eaten an epic blame-shift, surrendered the segmentation tech, and been outmaneuvered twice… any scrap of decency demanded both Gnoses.
He hadn't expected Idris to have less decency than he did.
The Doctor tore the contract in half. "So it's word games you want, Idris?!"
"No," Idris said, tone light. "I simply never intended to give you the Dendro Gnosis. You were the one daydreaming."
The Doctor's reason frayed. Fire flickered behind the cracked mask.
"Fine. Very fine." His voice dropped. "I tried to do this the civilized way. You forced my hand."
Idris straightened. "Oh? Planning to fight here? Think carefully, Doctor. On my ground, you won't get the advantage."
Two figures—one black, one white—flared to life behind him. Frostmourne slid free with a hiss; gold lit his eyes. He eased Nahida back with one arm.
She was no glass cannon—just not suited to a brawl. Anyone dreaming of striking her down under Idris's nose was dreaming hard.
The Doctor vanished.
"Idris!" Nahida cried, casting a life-shield.
Idris's Fiery Golden Eyes blazed—he caught the flicker and cut. His black-and-white avatars moved in the same breath, blades scissoring toward the ambush point.
The explosion ripped the office. Walls cracked like dry clay. Outside among the boughs of the Holy Tree, patrols heard the blast and surged toward the Grand Sage's door.
Within the smoke, Idris wiped a slim line of blood from his cheek and smiled without humor at the Doctor, whose mask now wore a fresh fracture.
"Keep this up, Dottore, and your chances of leaving alive plummet," he said softly. "You missed your best window. You know it. And this body—this isn't a segment, is it? It's you. Lose it here and your rank won't just slip—it'll crater."
The Doctor's fingers touched the split in his mask. He knew Idris was right. The perfect moment had been days ago, when Sumeru had just bled itself beating the Withering God and the nation was bone-tired. But Idris had anticipated him—kept foreign dignitaries in the city as witnesses, tossed him a paper ball promising the handoff "in two days," and bet the Harbinger wouldn't dare strike amid so many eyes.
He'd bet right.
Now, after two full days of recovery—for Idris and for that giant mech—starting a fight was a good way for the Doctor to die in Sumeru.
Idris glanced at the thin line on his cheek and chuckled. "Old man, poison on your nails? Cute. Sadly, I don't even need a pill for that."
He stirred his dragon-tempered blood. The toxin burned away at once.
Hearing the gathering clamor outside—and seeing his hidden gambit undone so easily—the Doctor exhaled, the killing edge ebbing.
"As expected of the wisest nation's brightest sage," he murmured. "Cunning, nerve, strength, resolve… If someone called you a god, few would object."
"You flatter me," Idris said pleasantly. "Now, shall we discuss damages? You kicked in my door, ruined my desk, and blew out my walls. The repair bill won't be small."
He smiled. "Before you leave, pay up. If you don't, I'll take your invoice straight to Northland Bank and collect—with interest."
A harsh, hollow laugh scraped out of the Doctor.
He glanced at the shadows of guards massing outside—and the distant silhouette of the titanic warframe flickering toward activation—and finally swallowed his fury.
"It seems Sumeru and I are fated ill," he said dryly. "Centuries ago I was expelled for… dangerous experiments. Today, I'm to be chased out by the Akademiya's Grand Sage. Hard to win the hometown's love."
He turned. "I see your resolve. Very well. Let the Dendro Gnosis remain with you—for now. One day, the Fatui will retrieve it… by other means."
"Ah, so you won't be paying," Idris said cheerfully. "Off you go, then. I'll send the bill to Northland Bank and make them eat it."
With a final snort, the Doctor's figure dissolved—and this time, truly quit Sumeru. Staying would only mean more of Idris's smothering games and no Gnosis to show for it.
Seconds later, guards flooded in. Seeing the slash on Idris's cheek, they dropped to one knee.
"Forgive us for arriving late, my lord!"
"It's fine," Idris waved them up. "If the Doctor himself comes to make a mess, you were never going to stop him."
"More importantly—fetch the imaging device. Photograph the damage. The culprit fled, so we'll need evidence." He smiled, eyes cool. "Let the Fatui pay for my office."
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