"The Withering isn't something you can cure. And the number of people with Eleazar won't drop just because you tell them pretty fairy tales.
"Sumeru's economy is still split in two. The rainforest and the desert still eye each other with distrust.
"Scholars go mad from canned forbidden knowledge. That is why we punish anyone who traffics in it—to choke the problem at the root.
"For five hundred years, you could project your consciousness at will—yet neither you nor my predecessors ever solved these problems.
"Instead, you chose the easiest way to win hearts—parading your kindness until many became your die-hard faithful. In an era used to human rule, where not a few still love Greater Lord Rukkhadevata, you keep creating your own believers.
"Perhaps that is one of the biggest illnesses Sumeru has carried for five centuries. No matter how devoutly they worship Greater Lord Rukkhadevata, she has been gone for five hundred years. And you never considered what that means.
"So tell me—aren't you the greatest traitor of all?"
"What…?" Nahida's eyes flew wide. Clearly, she had never turned the thought that way. But the more she considered it, the more the logic bit down.
Her heart had always been good. Even confined in the Sanctuary of Surasthana, she had tried to ease the pain of those who needed help. Yet those she had comforted became her most loyal adherents, spreading words in her name; even a little unrest was worth it, if it meant freeing the gentle god who had once helped them.
People in their darkest hour reach for gods and for a better life. There was no sin in that. They were only trying to rescue the one who had rescued them.
Nor was Nahida wrong—she only wanted the suffering to be soothed.
But the blame, the contradictions—the reckoning—fell on the Grand Sage.
It had been the Grand Sages of the Akademiya who announced her confinement. By now, the tension was caked and hardened, nearly impossible to unwind. Even if Idris freed her this instant, the knot would not vanish. It might explode like a powder keg.
Those who clamored to release the Little Grass God would never think it was because this Grand Sage had been merciful.
They would say the Grand Sage was afraid.
Realizing all this, Nahida felt a snarl of threads inside her chest. Her kindness might not be wrong—but it had wounded others.
"I… I'm not— I'm not a traitor… hic…"
"I only… sob, sob…"
Her small, broken sobs circled Idris's ears, the sight of her—so slight, so pitiable—enough to crack most hearts.
Not his.
"Have you cried enough?" he asked, voice even.
Inside, his thoughts were steady. I am the Grand Sage—a villain who cannot afford feelings. I have compassion, but not for gods. I have mercy, but not for only one person.
"I'm… I'm sorry," she whispered at last, wiping her wet lashes with a tiny hand.
"It's done," Idris said, shaking his head. "What's past won't delete itself. I am the Grand Sage—Sumeru's Grand Sage. I will keep doing what must be done for this nation.
"As for you—be the princess you are. Until the time is right, you do not need to step out."
Let the Little Grass God move too soon, and her benevolence would breed fresh chaos. Better to keep her where she was, for now, while the direction he'd begun to set took hold.
His shoulder throbbed. Pain—yes. But it had bought him the System's reward: a Dendro Vision. Blood well spent.
He was thinking exactly that when something soft brushed his wound—warm, damp, feather-light.
Nahida's lips.
At once, life surged through his arm and shoulder. The torn flesh knit with swift, emerald ease.
"I know you're angry," she murmured. "I don't know how to comfort you… but at least—let me heal you."
There was no shyness in her eyes—only confusion, only apology. As the life energy flowed, the pain drained away, and a gentle drowsiness soothed his spirit.
"I'm sorry," she said, voice barely a breath. "Perhaps in your eyes I'm only… a five-hundred-year-old child. I'll try to understand you—and more of this world—going forward. I'm… sorry."