Idris gestured toward the towering frame in the vault. "This was forged across generations of Grand Sages," he said. "Treasuries emptied, and—back then—dream-energy siphoned through the Akasha to feed it."
"Its full name," he added, "is the Divine Machine—'Seven-Leaf, the Hidden Lord.' A man-made god meant to replace a real one."
"What…?" Nahida blinked. Cold pricked at her chest. Replace a god—replace her. Five hundred years of policy condensed into a single insult of steel. She glanced at Idris, worry flickering.
He snorted. "However perfect the build, it's still a tool. Worshiping a machine like a god is what's actually ridiculous."
"Hehe… you're right." Relief softened her eyes. She slipped her small hand around his wrist; soft green rings of vitality blossomed from her palm, rinsing away blood and grit, knitting the shallow cuts on his skin.
"Idris," she murmured, "you came down here alone while I was away—were you planning to hide this… from me?"
"Yeah. If you'd seen it and had a meltdown about being 'replaced,' I'd have been the one stuck dealing with the tears."
"Who would do that?!" She shot him a glare—then, after one more look at the machine, her expression stilled into the same cool calm he wore.
"Grand Sage," she said softly, "I do trust you. Deeply. So please don't worry about being 'too harsh' with me. From now on, tell me these things upfront. I won't blame you for them."
Idris nodded. "I believe you. After all, you're still warming my bed every night. Without enough trust, you wouldn't have kept that up this long."
"You—! Could you be serious for one moment?" Her ears went pink. Even so, when she looked back at the colossus that had once been intended to supplant her, the fear was gone. Machine, god, monster—none of it seemed threatening in his shadow.
Idris lifted a hand; life-force poured into the Divine Machine. Purple radiance crawled across its plates. No pilot sat within, yet a dreadful presence seeped out, the reservoir filling to the brim.
"So that much life-energy was enough. I was worried I'd have to kill a few more people to top it off."
"Please," Nahida sighed, rolling her eyes, "try being human."
Her gaze traveled over the ruined floor: split stone, scorched scars. "The Academy just lost a great many elders," she said quietly. "There will be upheaval. Investigations. When they ask how they died… what will you say?"
Idris lifted his eyelid lazily. "The truth: they rebelled, so I removed them."
"And the turmoil?"
"Minor. My position is secure, my strength sufficient. Any ripple that actually grows teeth will end like tonight did."
"You truly meant it literally," she murmured—half chiding, half impressed. "I thought you were only bluffing when you said you'd admit it."
He stretched, then his eyes sharpened again—cold and bright. The Academy matter was, for now, contained. But another name still lay beneath it all.
The Doctor.
Without his hand behind the curtain, those timid fossils would never have dared. Tit for tat—Idris had dumped a monumental scandal on him; the man had swung back. Fine. A villain who knows the ledger never leaves a debt unpaid.
As for the Wanderer… by now he should be on the road, Electro Gnosis in hand.
"Well then," Idris said, a thin smile curving, "no need to send that little trinket anywhere else. We'll keep it here—in lieu of an apology."
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