Pain. Sharp, searing, and absolute. That was the first thing that clawed its way back into Ren's consciousness. He was lying in a splintered heap of what had once been a beautiful, antique shoji screen, the delicate paper torn, the fine wood shattered. His body was a symphony of agony, and a warm, sticky wetness was trickling down his forehead.
He pushed himself up, his limbs trembling, his vision swimming. He looked back at the gaping, smoking hole in the wall of the Grand Narukami Shrine. And he saw him. Scaramouche was floating through the hole, a look of sadistic, triumphant glee on his face, the air around him still crackling with the raw, untamed power of the Gnosis.
A single, terrifying thought cut through the haze of Ren's pain: I can't let him fight here.
This was not a duel; it was an execution. And if it happened here, on this sacred, beautiful mountain, the Balladeer, in his arrogant, divine rage, would not hesitate to level the entire shrine, to burn the Sacred Sakura to a cinder, just to get to him.
He had to run. He had to lead him away.
Ren scrambled to his feet, his body screaming in protest. His eyes darted around the wreckage, and he saw it. Leaning against a fallen pillar, miraculously intact, was his hoverboard.
With a final, desperate surge of adrenaline, he sprinted towards it. He leaped onto the board, his feet finding the latches by pure muscle memory, and shot out through another, already-shattered wall, launching himself into the open air.
He flew down the mountain, not with the graceful, joyful ease of his previous flights, but with a desperate, frantic speed, a small, dark grey comet fleeing a newborn, malevolent star.
He didn't get far.
A flash of violent, purple light, and Scaramouche was there, materializing in the air directly in front of him, his face a mask of cruel, mocking amusement. "Running so soon? But the party has just begun!"
He thrust his hand forward, and a volley of dark, lightning-laced needles shot towards Ren. Ren reacted on pure instinct, a hasty, lopsided Cryo shield erupting in front of him. The needles slammed into the shield, the force of the impacts so great that it sent a violent, bone-jarring shockwave through the hoverboard.
The board shuddered, its internal mechanics groaning under the strain of the divine assault and the sudden, violent evasion. It tilted sharply, uncontrollably. Ren fought for control, but it was useless. The hoverboard spun, and he was thown off-course along with the board, crashing hard into the thick, unforgiving undergrowth of the forest that lined the mountain's base.
He landed in a painful, tangled heap, the world a dizzying, spinning blur. He pushed himself up once more, his body a canvas of fresh, agonizing pain, and saw the Balladeer descending slowly, gracefully, a predator savoring the final moments of the hunt.
"Now then," Scaramouche sneered, landing a few feet away, his form radiating an overwhelming, oppressive power. "No more toys. No more running. Just a final, fitting end for an insignificant little anomaly."
He raised his hand, a new, even more powerful, sphere of crackling, divine lightning forming in his palm, ready to deliver the final, erasing blow.
And then, the world exploded into a storm of pink and blue.
A flurry of brilliant, turquoise, frost-flake arrows, each one carrying the cold, ancient power of an adeptus, slammed into the ground at Scaramouche's feet, erupting into a massive, flash-freezing field of ice that instantly encased his legs.
Simultaneously, a bolt of thick, foxy, pink lightning, a strike so powerful it seemed to tear the very air, shot down from the sky, aimed not at the Balladeer, but at the energy he was gathering in his hand, causing it to dissipate in a violent, uncontrolled burst of static.
Scaramouche roared in a mixture of pain and pure, frustrated rage. He looked up, his face a mask of absolute, venomous fury.
Yae Miko was descending on one side of Ren, her usual playful smile replaced by a look of cold, murderous, foxy rage, the air around her crackling with the raw, untamed power of a kitsune.
And on the other side, Ganyu appeared, her gentle face a mask of pure, glacial, adeptal fury, her bow already drawn, another, even more powerful, frost-flake arrow already aimed directly at the Harbinger's heart.
The Balladeer looked from the furious kitsune, to the enraged adeptus, and then to the small, broken, but still breathing, boy they were now flanking, and he let out a low, guttural curse.
"Always with the protectors," he hissed, his voice a venomous snarl. "You have the most infuriating luck."
He knew he could fight them. With the power of the Gnosis, he was confident he could even win. But it would be a long, drawn-out, and very, very, loud battle. A battle that would undoubtedly draw the attention of the entire nation, including the Raiden Shogun herself. And he had no faith that the Fair Lady, in her own, arrogant games, could keep the god of Eternity occupied forever.
His personal revenge, it seemed, would have to wait.
With a final, hate-filled glare that promised a future of pain and suffering, Scaramouche dissolved into a flash of violent, purple lightning and vanished, leaving behind only the scent of ozone and the lingering, chilling promise of his return.
Ren saw the enraged, beautiful, and powerful faces of his two guardians, his two families, and a profound, overwhelming wave of relief washed over him.
He was safe.
And then, the adrenaline that had kept him moving, the sheer, desperate will to survive, finally gave out. The world dissolved into a sea of swimming, black spots, and he collapsed, unconscious, into the soft, sacred, and fiercely protective, earth of Inazuma.