The moment Idris spoke, both Lumine and Paimon felt a rush of disbelief—and just a hint of injustice.
For days now, they'd been running themselves ragged for the Utsava Festival: helping countless Aranara return home, gathering rare ingredients, and organizing the celebrations from dawn till dusk.
And then this man—the Grand Sage himself—had strolled in with his "family entourage," invited straight to the heart of the festivities… apparently on vacation.
Unfair! Totally unfair!
Still, their frustration didn't run deep.
To meet Idris here, of all places, was a surprise that outweighed any resentment.
"So, Grand Sage," Lumine asked with a polite smile, "what brings you here?"
"Yeah!" Paimon huffed, arms crossed. "You just waltzed in like you own the place! If it weren't for us, this whole festival probably wouldn't even be happening!"
"As for why we're here…" Paimon glanced at Lumine, "Traveler, should we tell him?"
"Go ahead," Lumine said. "It's not exactly a secret—and if he's been invited here too, it's fine."
And so the Traveler recounted their journey: saving a young girl, exploring the depths of the rainforest, and helping the Aranara bring joy back to their world.
Her storytelling was simple yet vivid—enough that Idris actually listened for a solid ten minutes without interruption.
When she finished, he smiled faintly. "You've worked hard to protect the rainforest. Shouldn't I reward you for that?"
Paimon grinned. "Hehe, well, we've already gotten plenty of rewards from the Aranara—and found lots of treasure chests along the way. So you don't have to give us too much."
"Oh?" Idris said lazily. "Then I suppose I'll just give you nothing at all."
Lumine shot him a glare so sharp it could cut stone. "Unbelievable. Still as shameless as ever, aren't you?"
"Thank you for the compliment," Idris replied, utterly straight-faced.
What's a villain worth if he doesn't have a thick skin? he thought.
Before long, Nahida and the Greater Lord Rukkhadevata returned, their private conversation with the Aranara finished.
Whatever the two gods had told their faithful, it seemed to have worked—the Aranara's gazes toward Idris were now filled with warmth and trust.
Lumine greeted Nahida politely, but when her eyes landed on Rukkhadevata, her expression froze.
Her hands went slack; even Paimon's jaw dropped.
"W-wait… is that—the Greater Lord Rukkhadevata?!"
"Traveler, I'm not seeing things, right?!"
"No, you're not—but how is this possible?!"
Though they weren't natives of Sumeru, both had heard countless tales of the legendary Tree Goddess during their travels.
And the elegant woman before them—with hair like spun light and an aura brimming with life—was unmistakable.
Idris stepped forward, calm as ever. "You're not mistaken. This is indeed the Greater Lord Rukkhadevata—the elder princess of Sumeru. I brought her back from the remnants of her soul."
He gestured toward the two beside him. "Today, I've come with both of Sumeru's princesses to visit their old friends."
Rukkhadevata smiled gently. "Hello, Traveler. You must be the wanderer I've heard of from the World Tree. Your story is quite beautiful."
Her tone was warm, her touch light as she rested her hands on Lumine's shoulders—a gesture more familial than formal.
For a long heartbeat, Lumine and Paimon could only stare, wide-eyed.
In all their journeys, they'd encountered people obsessed with resurrecting gods—alchemists, zealots, scholars.
Every attempt had failed.
But here stood proof of the impossible—alive, breathing, and speaking before them.
When their shock subsided, both burst out at once:
"Grand Sage Idris! You—you can actually revive gods?!"
If such a thing were possible, Lumine thought, it could rewrite everything.
The pain of nations left hollow by fallen Archons—the voids left behind by gods long gone—could finally be healed.
She could bring hope where despair had taken root.
But Idris only smiled and shook his head.
"Not all gods can be revived," he said calmly. "The resurrection technique I command requires two conditions:
First, the god must still possess a form—or at least the means to rebuild one.
Second, a fragment of their soul must remain, no matter how faint.
Without those, even I can't restore them."
"I revived the Greater Lord because she left a trace of her soul within the World Tree, and her body could be regrown from its branches. That made resurrection possible."
"Ahh… I knew it couldn't be that easy."
Paimon drooped, sighing in disappointment.
Before the mood could sour, a round green Aranara—Araramuh—fluttered over, waving tiny hands.
"No more sad talk! Today is the Utsava Festival! Traveler, come join the music!"
"Well… all right!" Lumine laughed, pulling out her lyre.
She cast a quick glance at Idris—who was already reclining comfortably with a cup of water—and stepped up to the stage with the Aranara.
Together, they began to play.
The dreamlike forest filled with music—bright, pure, and full of childish wonder.
"Lalalala—♪"
"Lalala—♪"
The melodies swirled through the air like ripples in a pond.
Idris listened, half amused, half serene, savoring fruit and the rare feeling of peace.
He didn't trust Aranara cuisine much—edible was good enough—but between the music and the company of two gods beside him, even he felt his spirit calm.
That peace lasted until Nahida, curious as ever, peeked into his mind—and nearly choked.
In Idris's thoughts, she heard:
"If I could turn this whole Aranara performance into a theater production, I could sell tickets—and maybe even use it for diplomacy with foreign nations."
Her face turned red with exasperation.
"Ugh! You incorrigible workaholic!"
"Hm? What's wrong, Nahida?"
Idris raised an eyebrow, already aware she'd been eavesdropping.
"N-nothing," she stammered, cheeks pink. "I just remembered something."
Then, eyes brightening with mischief, she asked, "Grand Sage Idris, why don't you come sing with us later?"
"Sing? Me?"
"Mm-hm!" Nahida and Rukkhadevata nodded together.
"The Aranara share their emotions through song," Rukkhadevata explained. "To join their chorus is a gesture of harmony. Once Lumine and the others finish, it will be our turn to sing—and if you stay behind, you'll be all alone."
"Come, Grand Sage," she teased gently. "I'd like to see what kind of song you'd write."
Idris sighed, then chuckled. "Fine. I suppose I can't refuse, can I?"
He tapped his chin in thought. Among the music tracks he'd once prepared for the Sumeru Walkman, there had originally been 201 songs—one more than the released count.
That extra track had been deleted.
Why? Because it was too powerful—a song that stirred hearts and tears alike.
If played before Sumeru's order was secure, it could ignite faith and longing for the old gods once more.
But now… things were different. The age of divine rule had ended; the two gods before him were princesses of a new Sumeru.
Perhaps it was finally time to sing it again.
"All right," he said at last. "If you wish, we'll sing one together."
He transmitted the song's lyrics through the Akasha link.
Both Nahida and Rukkhadevata paused as the words appeared before them—the verses soft, sorrowful, and beautiful.
"Grand Sage," Nahida asked quietly, "what's the name of this song?"
Idris smiled. "It's called—'I Have Not Forgotten.'"
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