With a chain of thunderous booms, Marana's towering avatar finally rose not far from Sumeru City.
The embodiment of the Withering loomed almost as large as the Sacred Tree itself—its frame a twisted spiral pagoda, its limbs like lifeless trunks. High upon its "crown" stared a single, moon-wide eye; any mortal caught in that gaze felt a chill of grave-quiet despair seep into the heart. Its gaping, forest-black maw devoured light and life like the mouth of an abyss.
In the "original" tale, Marana showed itself only at the end of the Aranyaka's saga—a final boss. But this one was far stronger. Back then, the Great Lord Rukkhadevata's self-sacrifice had severed the World Tree's source of forbidden pollution; with Aranara, the Traveler, and Sumeru's people, the Withering was cleansed. Idris had chosen a different road: not the Tree's martyrdom, but the simplest, most brutal cure—his alchemy and the Prime Machine God to scour the blight.
Threatened, the Withering had rallied. Tapping fouled ley lines, it condensed every scattered stain into the old shell the Aranara watched over. Now its power was far beyond their keeping—lashing out at the Prime Machine God and upon the city itself.
Nahida stood beside Idris and whispered, "Good luck, Grand Sage. If you can't end this, I'll invoke the last resort."
She clasped the Electro Gnosis in one tiny hand; the other pressed over her heart, poised to unleash what rested within.
"No," Idris said. "Even that won't suffice—not now. Better that I use this moment to end all of Sumeru's ills at once."
He shook his head without looking back. With her meager combat power, forcing Nahida into the fray would be sending her to die.
Cyno had seen the small god approach and, though surprised, did not gape; he had long suspected some unspoken accord between the confined god of wisdom and their Grand Sage. What shook him was the Electro Gnosis in her palm.
How…? What else has the Grand Sage done from the shadows?
Idris didn't answer questions no one voiced. Instead, he called his iron titan.
"Prime Machine God—by my command, manifest!"
A sign formed at his fingers; mind linked, the divine engine dropped from the sky and crashed to earth before the city, then turned, sank to one knee, and bowed to Idris.
Even that steel colossus looked small before the swollen horror Marana had become. The thing screeched—ragged, woody thunder from its abyssal maw. Were it not for the machine's relentless culling, it would never have swollen to this unstable mass; left to fester, it would have burst on its own.
Relief rippled through the city. Many still didn't recognize the giant, but they recognized this: a titan kneeling to the boy upon the Sacred Tree's boughs was one of their own.
High on a rooftop, the Traveler and Paimon stared.
"That thing… Even if it's shy of the Raiden Shogun, it's not far off," Paimon breathed. "And that big 'Prime Machine God'—it feels… tinged with the Shogun's power. But it won't be enough alone—unless Idris has another card."
"The card is us," the Traveler said, drawing their blade. "Now I see why he issued the summons—to gather enough strength to weather this trial. I owe him for my misunderstanding. Hard opponent or not, I'll give everything."
In a tavern, Furina peered out the window, awe flickering across her features before she remembered herself and coughed demurely. "The Grand Sage does love staging a spectacle for a god. I do adore a grand show, hee-hee."
Clorinde bowed at her side. "My lady, we're too close to where the clash will break. We should withdraw."
Navia—despite her friction with Clorinde—nodded. They had recognized Idris's brilliance; still, this was Sumeru's calamity. Foreign dignitaries must not interfere—unless the Grand Sage named them specifically. Liyue's Keqing and Mondstadt's Lisa felt likewise. Today, they were witnesses—to a battle sure to etch itself into Teyvat's chronicles.
Within Sumeru's ranks, gazes turned from titan to terror to the lone figure upon the bough. Not all had the Traveler's hot blood; many waited for a signal.
It came—a roar from Marana as the earth split and legions of Withering beasts spilled forth, surging toward every gate.
"Cyno," Idris said, still watching the treeline, "take all who will fight. Hold the tide."
"And I," he added, "with the Prime Machine God, will take Marana itself."
"As you command!" Cyno bowed, eyes alight. However dire the hour, as long as this one stood, Sumeru would stand.
A mortal, commanding a god-tier engine; a mortal, guiding the God of Wisdom. Flesh and blood proving the way of the sage.
Vines rose under Idris's feet—ladders stitched from the Tree's veins—bearing him up to the Prime Machine God's crown. He opened the Akasha, and his voice rolled through the city like a clear bell.
"To all gathered in Sumeru City—our time is short.
Before you stands the root of five centuries of suffering.
The Withering began with it; Mahamatras scales, the incurable blight, exist because of it;
Forbidden knowledge that has poisoned minds—its shadow lies there as well.
The forest's wardens once named this ugliness Marana.
It hides no longer—or believes itself swollen with enough stolen strength to turn Sumeru into its garden.
I will prove it wrong. But I will not pretend I stand alone.
Today, all who lift a hand for Sumeru shall receive my alchemy in thanks—immortal pills refined by my own hands.
May your arms be strong—may fortune favor your blades!"
The words leapt from every Akasha earpiece—and to those without, the sound still carried, bright and unyielding.
"Wait—what did he just call himself?" someone gasped. "Did he say… This king?"
"King…?"
"Not the time!" another snapped, drawing steel. "You heard him. We handle the hordes. If the Grand Sage holds the giant, we'll hold the rest!"
At a gate, Dehya stood with Nilou, the Corps of Thirty, and Matra squads. Nilou gazed up at the figure on the titan's helm, eyes shining.
"Do you remember?" she murmured. "Just over a month ago, at the Corps' camp, he scolded them—said they were cowards for shirking duty; that anyone in a post must do the work of that post. He promised that if Sumeru were ever in peril, as Grand Sage he would never shrink from it."
She smiled, love and reverence braided in her voice.
"And today… he's keeping that promise."
Across the walls, weapons lifted. Within the trees, monsters screamed. Above them all, steel and rot squared to meet—while, before the eyes of every nation's guests, a young man stood upon a god-machine and declared:
"With all nations and all peoples as witness—
what I will be… is a King."
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