The Plane of Euthymia, once a place of absolute, silent stillness, was now filled with the echoes of Ren's words, a gentle but persistent storm that was eroding the foundations of Ei's centuries-old philosophy. The goddess, the true Raiden Ei, looked at the small boy before her, her expression a complex, turbulent sea of ancient grief, dawning realization, and profound, unsettling doubt.
Ren, sensing he had cracked the ideological armor of the Vision Hunt Decree, knew he had to address the second pillar of her Eternity: the Sakoku Decree.
"As for the Sakoku Decree. I understand why you did it," he began, his tone shifting from philosophical debate to one of pragmatic, strategic understanding. "The closing of Inazuma's borders. It wasn't an act of tyranny. It was an act of protection. The world outside is a dangerous, chaotic place. The fall of Khaenri'ah, the endless wars, the scheming of other gods… you wanted to create a safe, self-contained haven for your people, to shield them from the threats of the outside world."
He looked at her with a surprising, almost sympathetic, understanding. "In a way, it was a good decision. A logical one."
This acknowledgment of her original motive, the validation that her intentions were pure, seemed to lower her defenses even further.
"But," Ren continued, his voice turning firm, the gentle understanding replaced by a sharp, critical edge, "while you have been in here, in this perfect, unchanging world of your own mind, you have not seen what your beautiful, sheltered haven has become. You have not seen what your subordinates have done in your absence."
He laid out the ugly, brutal truth of the situation on the ground, the truth he knew from his past life. "Your Kanjou Commission, the very people you entrusted to enforce your decree, have become corrupt. They have colluded with the Fatui. They have used your laws not to protect Inazuma, but to enrich themselves, to create monopolies, to oppress your people. While you have been meditating on Eternity, they have been allowing a foreign, hostile power to sink its fangs into the very heart of your nation."
Ei's expression hardened, a flicker of divine, imperious anger in her amethyst eyes. "The Fatui are of no consequence," she stated, her voice regaining a fraction of its divine authority. "They are a fleeting annoyance. I could erase their presence from Inazuma in a single, instant, should I choose to."
"But you haven't," Ren countered, his voice sharp and unwavering. "And while you wait for the 'right time' to act, while you deem them 'of no consequence,' how many of your people have to suffer? They are using your absence, your decree, as a shield for their own schemes. They are distributing Delusions to your people, to the resistance, fanning the flames of a civil war you don't even seem to realize is happening."
He took another step closer, his small form radiating a righteous, compassionate anger. "Aren't they doing the same thing I did?" he challenged, his voice ringing in the silent plane. "They are offering a form of power to your people. The very thing you sought to prevent. But their power is a poison. It consumes the user, it leads to death and madness. My devices… they were created for the exact opposite reason. They were made to help people, to make them stronger, to give them a tool to achieve their dreams safely."
He looked at the goddess, his glowing azure eyes shining with a fierce, undeniable logic. "My devices would help your Inazuma prosper. They would give your people the strength to defend themselves, to build a better future, to create the very safe haven you dream of. The Fatui… they only wish to profit from your people's suffering, to use your nation as a chessboard for their own twisted games."
He delivered the final, damning question, his voice a quiet, surgical strike at the blind spot in her divine omniscience. "The Sakoku Decree was a good idea, but its execution, without your own watchful gaze, has been a catastrophe. So why? Why did you choose to confront me, a boy who came with a gift, before you chose to deal with the vipers who have already made a nest in your own house?"
The question was a perfect, inescapable checkmate. He had shown her that in her quest to protect her nation from external threats, she had become blind to the internal ones. In her perfect, isolated stillness, she had allowed a cancer to grow within her borders, a cancer that was actively harming the very people she had sacrificed everything to protect. Her inaction, born of a god's detached, long-term perspective, was, from a mortal standpoint, a profound and immediate dereliction of duty.