The transition back to the physical world was seamless, yet the contrast was jarring. Ren and Nahida materialized in the upper atrium of the Sanctuary of Surasthana, the air cool and still heavy with the scent of Dendro energy.
"The battle," Nahida said, her small face serious as she adjusted her footing on the stone floor. "It should be raging below. We must hurry."
Ren nodded, checking his pockets to ensure the velvet box—and the weight of his own secrets—was secure. "Right. Lumine is strong, but that machine… it was designed to rival gods."
They hurried down the winding corridor that led to the lower chamber, the vast, cavernous workshop where the Sages had built their blasphemy. Ren braced himself. He expected the roar of elemental blasts, the screech of tearing metal, the shaking of the earth. He expected to see Lumine fighting for her life against a mechanical deity fueled by divine arrogance.
Instead, as they neared the heavy double doors, they heard… a thud.
Then silence.
Then another thud. And a voice, sounding distinctly annoyed.
Ren exchanged a confused glance with Nahida. The Lesser Lord Kusanali tilted her head, her elf-like ears twitching. "Is that… kicking?"
Ren pushed the heavy doors open.
The sight that greeted them defied every expectation Ren had harbored. The vast chamber, designed to house a god, looked like a scrapyard. The Shouki no Kami, the Prodigal, the machine that was supposed to rival the Archons, was in pieces. Its massive arms were sheared off, lying in smoking heaps. The central chassis was cracked open like an eggshell, sparks showering harmlessly from severed cables. It wasn't a battleground; it was a demolition site.
Standing near the entrance, looking perfectly pristine and slightly bored, was Ningguang. She was examining her fingernails, occasionally glancing at the carnage with a look of mild approval.
And in the center of the room, amidst the wreckage of his dreams, lay Scaramouche. The Balladeer was curled on the floor, stripped of his mechanical armor, looking small and pathetic.
Standing over him was Lumine. She wasn't using her sword. She wasn't using the elements. She was methodically, rhythmically, kicking him in the shin.
Thud.
"This," Lumine grunted, punctuating her strike, "is for the Unreconciled Stars incident! Do you know how long I spent running around picking up meteorites?"
Thud.
"This is for the Delusion factory in Inazuma! For making me dizzy with that stupid purple gas!"
Scaramouche groaned, trying to curl tighter into a ball. "Stop… you barbarian…"
Thud.
"This is for Childe! Do you know he sends me letters? Letters! Asking for spars! Because of you, I'm the only Harbinger-punching bag available!"
Ren stared, his jaw going slack. Beside him, Nahida blinked rapidly, trying to process this unique form of divine punishment.
Paimon spotted them and zipped over, her face a mixture of relief and secondhand vindictiveness.
"Ren! Nahida! You're back!" Paimon squeaked. She pointed at the one-sided beatdown. "Look! Lumine is winning! Like, really winning!"
Ren walked over to Ningguang, gesturing vaguely at the scene. "What… just happened here? We were gone for maybe twenty minutes."
Ningguang lowered her hand, a small, amused smile playing on her lips. "It was quite the spectacle. We arrived, expecting a titan. The boy—the Balladeer—began a rather long, grandiose speech about his ascension and his new godhood. He fired a laser."
She gestured to a small scorch mark on the wall. "It missed."
Paimon chimed in, hovering eagerly. "Yeah! And then Lumine just… jumped up! She smashed the shield—which was super flimsy, by the way—and then she just started taking the robot apart! It was like… like it had no power at all! It moved so slow!"
Ren looked at the wreckage. It made sense. Cruel, hilarious sense.
The Sages had designed the machine to run on the Gnosis. Specifically, the Electro Gnosis. But Ren had stolen that in Inazuma. Then, they planned to use the Dendro Gnosis as a substitute or amplifier. But Dottore had stolen that before the fight even started.
Scaramouche had been piloting a god-suit running probably on nothing but residual ley line energy and his own, inflated ego. He was trying to drive a luxury hovercar with an empty battery.
"I was so worried!" Paimon continued, puffing out her chest. "Paimon was ready to do some super-supporting! But then… wham! The arm fell off. Bam! The chest piece cracked. It was over in like, two minutes! Paimon didn't even have time to overreact!"
In the center of the room, Lumine delivered another kick.
"And this," she growled, "is for Tsarevich! That ungrateful merchant in Mondstadt! I know he's not a Harbinger, but he's Fatui, and you're his boss, so you're taking the blame for his stupid perfectionist commissions!"
Thud.
"And this is the big one," Lumine said, winding up her leg. "This is for the Goth Grand Hotel! Do you know how nice that place looks? Do you know how much I wanted to sleep in a soft bed? But no! 'Booked for the Fatui indefinitely!' Well, enjoy the floor!"
THUD.
Scaramouche let out a wheeze.
Lumine stepped back, exhaling sharply. She straightened her dress, brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, and turned to look at Ren.
"He was a terrible boss battle," she declared flatly. "Zero stars. Would not recommend. Even Childe put up a better fight, and he uses a bow he doesn't know how to shoot with."
She walked over to Ren, leaving the groaning Harbinger in the dust.
Nahida glanced at him. "Is he… still there?"
Ren peered past Lumine. Scaramouche was lying in the debris, staring blankly at the ceiling. He wasn't physically broken—Lumine hadn't used her sword—but his spirit seemed to have shattered along with his mech. He had reached for godhood and been beaten up by a traveler with a grudge about hotel reservations.
"Yep," Ren said. "He's just… cowering. Or contemplating his life choices."
"Stupid idiot," Lumine scoffed. She looked at Nahida, her expression softening. "Are you okay? Did you fix the tree?"
Nahida nodded slowly, her gaze drifting past Lumine to the fallen puppet. Her eyes held a mixture of pity and responsibility.
"The tree is safe," Nahida said. "Thanks to Ren. And… a friend."
She walked past them, approaching Scaramouche. She didn't kick him. She stood over him, her small shadow falling across his face.
"The dream is over," she said softly. "You sought wisdom, but found only arrogance. You sought power, but found only emptiness."
Scaramouche didn't respond. He just closed his eyes.
Nahida turned back to the group. "He is no longer a threat. Without the energy source, he is just… a discarded puppet."
Ren stepped forward. "Then what's next? The Sages are still out there. Azar is probably still in his office, thinking he's won."
Nahida's expression hardened. It was a look Ren hadn't seen on her before—the look of a ruler who had been patient for far too long.
"Yes," the Dendro Archon said. "The Sages. They have imprisoned their god, exploited their people, and nearly destroyed the Irminsul. It is time for a correction."
She looked at Lumine, then at Ren and Ningguang.
"Let us go," she commanded gently. "We have a government to dissolve. And then… we can tell them all about our adventure in the tree of life."
The group turned, leaving the broken room behind. The threat of the false god had ended not with a bang, but with a series of very satisfying kicks. Now, it was time for the scholars to face their grading.