"While I'm here in Vanarana," Nahida said softly, her voice carrying the weight of a dream, "I can maintain this form for a little while longer. Outside this place, the energy won't hold."
Her emerald eyes shimmered with sincerity. "I just… want to take this time to make peace with everything between us—to steal away the old distance, like in that song."
Idris looked at her for a long moment. Then, quietly, he nodded.
"Alright."
That night passed peacefully—gentle and unhurried, like a dream that refused to fade.
When morning came, Nahida had returned to her usual, smaller form. The traces of divine power she'd drawn from Vanarana had dispersed with the dawn.
Idris gazed down at the little Archon curled at his side and couldn't help but smile faintly.
"Even gods can't hold onto borrowed strength forever, huh?"
Nahida blinked awake, cheeks still pink, but her voice was calm. "At least I proved I could change, even just a little."
He chuckled. "So that's where all your energy went—to growing taller for one night."
"Don't tease me," she pouted, though the corners of her lips curved into a smile.
As they stepped out of the room, Rukkhadevata was waiting outside, arms crossed and amusement glimmering in her gaze.
"Well, well," she teased lightly. "You two certainly took your time."
"Don't start," Idris muttered.
Nahida covered her face in embarrassment, but Rukkhadevata's laughter was warm, motherly.
Then her tone turned practical. "Traveler and Paimon have already departed. They're heading for the desert to continue their journey."
"The desert, huh…" Idris mused. He remembered what awaited there—the mercenary girl, Jeht, and her bittersweet story.
But that story, too, would now change.
The traitors who once betrayed her and the forces that corrupted the desert—he would erase them all.
"Then perhaps," he murmured, "this time, the ending will finally be a good one."
With that thought, Idris, Nahida, and Rukkhadevata bid farewell to the Aranara and returned to Sumeru City.
Over the next half-month, Sumeru flourished under Idris's reforms.
He merged the Thirty-Man Corps and the Eremite soldiers into a single, unified army—the Imperial Guard, Sumeru's first true standing military force.
For centuries, Sumeru had been mocked for its lack of organized defense. Now, for the first time, its citizens felt pride.
His popularity soared.
He then appointed Rukkhadevata as the Grand Elder of the Amurta Darshan, placing her directly beneath him in authority—a move that sent shockwaves through the Akademiya.
The people whispered that Idris had made even gods serve beneath him.
And yet… no one truly objected. Because the Grand Sage's rule had brought order and prosperity to every corner of the nation.
Outside Sumeru, however, the reaction was very different.
The mere rumor that Idris could resurrect a god caused waves across Teyvat.
And one nation, in particular, could not stay silent—Fontaine.
One morning, a sealed diplomatic letter arrived on Idris's desk.
Its emblem was unmistakable—the sigil of the Fontaine Tribunal.
The sender: Neuvillette, Chief Justice of Fontaine.
He broke the seal and began to read.
To Grand Sage Idris of Sumeru,
Your alchemical creation, the Bloodline Elixir, has shown remarkable properties.
In recent days, Fontaine has suffered incidents related to the primordial waters of the Original Sea.
However, it was discovered that those who had ingested your elixir were entirely immune to the corruption.
Unfortunately, word of this has spread rapidly due to the current panic surrounding the so-called "Prophecy of Fontaine's End."
Every port, every market, every street has erupted into chaos.
People—injured, wealthy, and poor alike—are desperate to buy your elixir, believing it the key to their survival.
Our markets are collapsing. Order is failing.
We demand an explanation.
If possible, we invite you to attend a formal inquiry and reception at the Opéra Épiclèse.
— Neuvillette, Chief Justice of Fontaine.
Though the language was polite, the tone was unmistakable—restrained anger, cold as water under pressure.
Idris smiled faintly as he set the letter down.
"So," he murmured, "the seeds I planted back then have finally sprouted."
He knew exactly what had happened.
Months ago, Fontaine's Hydro Archon, Furina, had asked him for a way to protect her people from the coming disaster.
He had provided a solution—the Bloodline Elixir.
He hadn't expected her to parade it openly in front of her nation. Or perhaps, deep down, he had.
And so, during a grand performance at the Opéra, she had proudly demonstrated its effects—before the entire city.
Now, the entire nation clamored for salvation in a bottle.
"Poor Neuvillette," Idris said with a smirk. "You must be furious. But blame your Archon, not me. I merely offered help."
From the side, Nahida crossed her arms, clearly unconvinced.
"I don't believe that for a second. You once told me—'nothing free ever comes without a price.'"
Her green eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You planned this, didn't you? A long-term move to draw Fontaine into your web."
Idris gave a soft laugh but didn't deny it.
"Perhaps. But think of it as diplomacy with… benefits. Fontaine gains a cure, I gain leverage—and profit. Everyone wins."
Nahida sighed, shaking her head. "You're impossible."
That afternoon, Idris stood by his office window, watching the sunlight spill across Sumeru City.
The last traces of the Aranara's dream still lingered in the air, faint and sweet.
"Next destination," he murmured, "Fontaine."
He turned, his eyes sharp with resolve.
"Prepare the paperwork. We're going abroad."
Nahida raised an eyebrow. "You're really going?"
"Of course," he said. "It's time to collect my debts—and calm their anger before it becomes something… inconvenient."
A slow smile curved his lips.
"After all, nothing strengthens diplomacy quite like a little controlled chaos."
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