When Idris finished, the four students who had stepped forward couldn't hide their excitement. They were young—still students, really. If one of them secured the Alchemy Division's elder seat, who's to say they couldn't one day vie for the title of Grand Sage itself?
In the past, that seat had been a scalding-hot potato few wanted to touch.
Now? Completely different story.
Idris had put the nation in order—crises solved top to bottom—and even brought gods to heel. A hot potato had become the hottest ticket in town. In the shadows, elders from other schools were just as eager: if Idris picked their protégé, it'd chip away at his central authority.
They were dreaming.
Meeting the expectant stares, Idris smiled. "The Alchemy Division is a new pillar of the Akademiya with enormous potential. Its elder must be truly capable. So—let's welcome Sumeru's future Grand Princess, the previous Dendro Archon, Greater Lord Rukkhadevata!"
On cue, the former Tree King stepped out from behind the curtain, hand in hand with Nahida, wearing the gentlest of smiles. Under normal circumstances, a face like that would calm any heart. Today it detonated the hall. Hundreds of students—and the lurking elders from other schools—stared, slack-jawed.
You've got to be kidding me.
A few pinched their own thighs. The pain said it wasn't a dream.
Idris lifted a hand for quiet. "Sumeru's sickness has been cured. With the World Tree stabilized, the Greater Lord has returned to life—and has willingly laid down her former sovereignty to serve this nation as its Grand Princess, senior in rank to the Little Lucky Princess."
He glanced around the sea of faces. "And she will also serve as elder of the Alchemy Division—one of the Akademiya's seven great schools. A hand for her, please."
Applause rolled through the hall. For most of the students—Dinazad among them—having the Tree King as elder and instructor was the honor of a lifetime. Idris's word carried weight, and the figure before them matched the old illustrations perfectly, radiating a tide of living aura. Who would doubt it?
The shadowy elders, however, went white. None of them had imagined Idris would… pull this. Competing against that? Forget it. If they sent their hand-raised prodigies up against her, they'd only humiliate themselves. But not competing meant a month of careful grooming in the Alchemy Division had turned into wedding clothes for someone else.
A few couldn't stand it. They stepped out and blurted, "Grand Sage, we object! The Tree King has been gone for five hundred years—how can we believe she's truly reborn?"
Idris's eyes went cold. "Since when do I need to prove myself to the likes of you? Don't think I don't know what you've been plotting. I've let it slide out of regard for past 'service.' Or would you prefer to go pay your respects to the previous Grand Sage—personally?"
The elders trembled and dropped to their knees. "We wouldn't dare! Please forgive us!"
"Get out," Idris said, bored. "I won't waste breath tallying your debts."
They scuttled off. A ripple of snickers moved through the students. As for the plants those elders had embedded among the alchemists—they, too, could only bow to reality.
With the interruptions gone, the investiture proceeded smoothly. Rukkhadevata took the elder's seat to universal acclaim. News of it would spread—first across Sumeru, then the world: Idris hadn't just brought another god to his banner—he had revived a god thought lost for five centuries.
Good thing the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles was still asleep. If she were awake, this alone might have jolted her up.
Those were future problems. The rumor would take at least a dozen days to fully circulate—time enough for Idris to strengthen himself or Sumeru twice over, so the nation wouldn't have to empty itself out like it did facing Scaramouche.
As for the Tree King's work? She took to it with ease. Even while downplaying how much alchemy she had "peeked" from Idris, her demonstration won instant praise. The god of wisdom being overqualified for an elder seat was… inevitable. Alchemy was profound; even a wisdom god had much to explore. Perhaps it was curiosity itself that made her say yes.
By the time the day's business wound down, Idris took Nahida and Rukkhadevata back to his quarters.
Once inside, Nahida finally asked the question nibbling at her. "Grand Sage Idris, you know there are still a few dissenting elders in the Akademiya, so… why not just get rid of them?"
If she were ruling, she wouldn't care about a few grumblers—she'd try to gently retrain them in the dark. Idris, though, had simply ignored them, letting them scheme all they wished. That didn't feel like him at all. He could have killed them on the spot today, and she wouldn't have been surprised.
Idris chuckled. "Put people in high places, and many will chase private payoffs—power, money, beauty. If they have some ability, they're very easy to manage. If they're merely greedy? Even easier.
"Keep them around, and they're handy for the occasional public warning. When there's a conflict you can't smother, you throw them under the cart. They're like a nation's… backup hidden power source."
A net-meme flashed through his mind. "Think of it like this: you want to install a certain 'monkey' game everyone knows, and it needs 120 gigs, but you don't have the space. Just then you notice an eighty-something-gig battle-royale shooter, title starting with 'A,' that you barely touch. Delete that, free up the drive, install the new one—boom. Two birds, one stone."
To Idris, those elders filled the same niche. Keep them docile and useful day-to-day; when you need them, you butcher them. Even pigs are saved for New Year.
Nahida nodded, eyes sparkling. "I… learned something again."
Rukkhadevata bowed slightly. "Grand Sage Idris, you truly were born to rule. Compared to us 'gods of wisdom,' you might be the one best suited to run this nation. Perhaps that streak of ruthlessness in your bones is exactly what Sumeru needs."
"Thanks for the compliment," he deadpanned. "Funny how 'ruthless' doesn't sound like praise."
"Eh-heh," she teased. "Weren't you the one who never cared what others say about you?"
Then both she and Nahida—faces pink—glanced at the only bed in the room.
Rukkhadevata knew now why Nahida warmed the blankets: to apologize for old mistakes. As for herself…
"You're in the guest room next door," Idris cut in, merciful. "I had it made up."
"Lovely. I'll leave you lovebirds to it," she sang, vanishing in a flash.
Nahida's face went beet-red at that phrasing. But she noticed Idris wasn't sleepy at all—he was packing. "Grand Sage, what are you doing?"
"Packing," he said. "Aren't we heading to Vanarana tomorrow for the Aranara's Festival Utsava?"
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