The world had returned to its normal, vibrant hues, but for Ren, a suffocating, static pressure remained. It clung to him like a second skin, a heavy blanket of ozone and malice that made the humid air of the greenhouse feel thin and cold.
Lisa was saying something, her hand reaching for his shoulder, concern etched on her face. Tighnari was frowning, his ears swiveled towards him. But their voices sounded distant, like they were underwater.
Then, the voice returned. Not as a memory this time, but as a direct, intrusive transmission into his mind.
"Color me surprised," the voice drawled, smooth and cold as polished obsidian. "You really decided to come here and ruin my plans again, didn't you? First Inazuma, now Sumeru. You're like a particularly persistent weed."
Ren's breath hitched. He looked around wildly. The others were oblivious, still frozen in their moment of concern. But there, floating near the domed ceiling of the greenhouse, bathed in a strange, violet light that only Ren could see, was the Balladeer.
He looked different. The frantic, unhinged rage that had consumed him at the Grand Narukami Shrine was gone. In its place was a terrifying, serene stillness. He hovered with his arms crossed, his indigo eyes fixed on Ren with a look of detached, god-like boredom.
"Scaramouche," Ren whispered, the name a silent mouthing.
The vision of the Harbinger drifted lower, passing through a hanging vine as if it were smoke. "I had thought this would be a clean ascension," he mused, his voice echoing in Ren's skull. "A private affair. Just me, my destiny, and the fools who think they are helping me. But now… you. And that pesky Traveler. Like flies buzzing around a banquet."
He clicked his tongue, a sharp sound of irritation. "Tsk. Such a pain."
Then, abruptly, he turned his back on Ren, floating towards the glass wall of the greenhouse, staring out at the lush forest with an air of utter indifference.
"It does not matter," he declared, his tone shifting to one of supreme, unshakeable confidence. "Your presence is a variable, yes. But an insignificant one. It hardly changes the inevitable trajectory of my ascension. Divinity is not a destination you can block; it is a state of being I am about to reclaim."
He began to drift away, his form fading like a mirage.
"Wait!" Ren said aloud, his voice cutting through the silence of the greenhouse.
Lisa and Tighnari jumped. "Ren?" Lisa asked, alarmed. "Who are you talking to?"
Ren ignored them, his eyes locked on the fading violet ghost. "Scaramouche! Wait!"
The apparition paused. Slowly, languidly, the Balladeer turned back, raising a single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "What is it, little mortal? Do you have a final prayer to offer?"
Ren took a step forward, his fists clenching. He had to try. He had to plant the seed of doubt.
"Why trust Dottore?" Ren demanded, his words loud and clear, not caring that Lisa and Tighnari were looking confused. "You know what he is. You know he's a monster. He experimented on you before. He has no loyalty, no sanity. And the Sages… Azar… they don't care about you. To them, you're just a battery. A tool."
Scaramouche listened, his expression unchanging. A small, chilling smirk touched his lips.
"Trust?" he laughed, a cold, hollow sound. "You misunderstand the nature of our arrangement, boy. I do not trust the Doctor. I do not trust the Sages. Trust is a weakness of mortals."
He floated closer, looming over Ren, his eyes burning with a cold, divine fire. "They are pawns. Nothing more. They think they are the players, moving pieces on a board. They think they are controlling divinity, shaping it to their will. But they are ants, scurrying around the feet of a giant. In the long run, their schemes, their arrogance… it matters little."
He spread his arms wide, encompassing the invisible world only he could see. "The only goal here… the only truth… is to take the divinity that resides within me. To claim what was denied to me by my creator. It is my birthright. And I will take it, regardless of the tools I must use."
Ren stared at him. The rage was truly gone. There was no screaming, no lightning bolts. Just a cold, terrifying certainty.
"You seem… calm," Ren observed, his own fear momentarily eclipsed by curiosity. "Last time… you were angry. You wanted revenge."
The Balladeer's smirk deepened, a flicker of genuine, twisted amusement in his eyes.
"In that respect," he said softly, "I suppose a thank you is not out of the question. To you."
Ren blinked. "Me?"
"Indeed," Scaramouche nodded. "If I had not attacked you at the shrine… if I had not lost myself to that pathetic, fleeting sense of rage… I would have escaped Inazuma with the Electro Gnosis. I would have been content with a stolen heart."
His eyes narrowed. "But I failed. I was defeated. Stripped of my prize. Cast down. It was a hard lesson. A humiliating lesson. But a lesson nonetheless."
He leaned in, his face inches from Ren's, though Ren felt no breath, only a cold pressure.
"It taught me that rage is a shackle. That revenge is a distraction. A true god does not need to stoop to anger. A true god is above such petty things."
He straightened up, his form beginning to dissolve into mist.
"Now," he said, his voice fading, becoming part of the wind. "You do not matter. The Traveler does not matter. Nothing does. Only my destiny. I will become a god. It is inevitable."
He looked at Ren one last time, his gaze devoid of hate, devoid of interest. It was the gaze of a statue looking at an ant.
"And as long as you stay away… as long as you remain an observer… you will not be dragged into this. That is what a god does, little one. He does not go looking for revenge. Instead, a god simply watches on, from his throne in the heavens, as the mortals live their petty, fleeting lives."
With that, the violet light vanished. The pressure lifted instantly, leaving Ren gasping for air in the sudden, normal atmosphere of the greenhouse.
"Ren!" Lisa was kneeling beside him, checking his pulse. "Ren, what happened? You went blank. You were talking to thin air."
Ren looked at her, then at Tighnari, who looked equally concerned. He looked at the spot where the Balladeer had been.
"I saw him," Ren whispered, his voice shaky. "Scaramouche. He's… he's changed."
He shivered, the cold logic of the newborn god still echoing in his mind. The rage was gone, replaced by something far more dangerous: Apathy. Divine, absolute apathy.