"The person—I intend to bring back."
"That's absolute."
"As for everything else, we can discuss. If you insist, you can even draft a clause."
Istaroth was strong. That much was beyond question.
She could manipulate time—and on a level few could comprehend.
Such beings were never weak.
Taro was certain she couldn't harm him.
But likewise, he couldn't easily deal with her either.
What stood before him now wasn't Istaroth's true self—
only a projection, a temporal avatar.
Who knew in what moment of time her true body dwelled?
At present, Taro's command of time remained at the beginner's stage.
He could stop time, and was immune to temporal stops.
That alone came from his profession skills, not from any dominion of Time's Authority.
He hadn't yet obtained that.
Whether Gungnir could pierce through time's axis, he hadn't tested.
As for his ultimate "Absolute 20," that froze everything—but couldn't move himself.
Still, he wasn't worried about others reversing time on him.
When he first arrived in Teyvat, he hadn't been much weaker than now.
Even without his race and class transformations, he would've endured.
World-class artifacts guaranteed it—
even Phanes himself wouldn't have been able to undo his arrival unless the gods severed causality from the root.
And they couldn't.
Under these conditions, revealing more trump cards was unnecessary.
Without facing Istaroth's true form, there was no point.
Taro would not use his ultimate powers or world-class items.
And Istaroth couldn't really move against him, lest he turn that strength on her directly.
The initiative was his.
Even if he yielded it, it would be rude for her to take it.
It was like a banquet where a lord politely tells you to eat first—
you don't actually pick up the chopsticks.
Istaroth was silent for a long moment, helpless amusement beneath her tone.
"You've spoken this far; what contract could I possibly draft? Ronova raged herself hoarse at you and still failed. I have no intention of following that example."
"Do you have a plan, Mr. Taro?"
Her voice was soft, melodious—present everywhere, yet leaving no trace.
"Good."
Taro nodded. "Continue your agreement as it is. Once the seed is planted, I'll retrieve the soul. Don't worry—your loop remains intact. I'll bypass it entirely."
He preferred the simplest way.
No need to make a spectacle when efficiency sufficed.
He had the strength to defy Teyvat's fate, but—
why bother?
"As you say, then," Istaroth replied lightly.
"This method preserves Teyvat's foundation. It is acceptable."
For her, so long as the timeline closed cleanly, it was ideal.
She had no reason to offend a being who could, quite literally, upend the board.
Besides, the one he sought was a finished existence.
Reviving her would not harm the balance.
The Nibelung Root and the Throne were already mortal enemies; there was no reconciliation there.
The Third Descender sought to replace them—that was another matter entirely.
As for those twin siblings? Let them rest for now.
But this man before her was different.
From any temporal angle, he was worth talking to.
He bore no malice toward Teyvat.
He was even willing to settle here—
and, apparently, had already found several "companions" in Liyue.
Three, by current count.
If such a person could become an ally, why push him away?
To make him an enemy would be absurd.
The Primordial One was gone.
The Four Shadows were fractured.
What order of heaven remained to hold the world together?
After the Calamity of the Dying Flame, everything was chaos.
Creating more enemies now would be foolish.
Strong beings had their privileges.
If negotiation was possible, then negotiate.
Everything else was secondary.
Raiden Makoto's revival was a small matter in comparison.
No one sane would choose to antagonize a Descender for it.
Thus, from the beginning, there had never been an option not to talk.
Istaroth had come precisely for this.
"Very understanding of you," Taro said.
"In that case, let's begin. Sooner started, sooner finished."
Istaroth inclined her head.
Across from her, Taro smiled faintly.
There was the difference between her and Ronova—
Istaroth was gracious.
(Ronova, off somewhere: "Double-standards dog! You gave him face?!")
Istaroth almost laughed, a little embarrassed.
Honestly, if Taro had met her before Ronova, perhaps the atmosphere would have been much smoother from the start.
She almost wanted to thank Ronova for the warning that made her tread carefully now.
"Ba'al," Istaroth said gently to Makoto.
"You may begin. Once the covenant is fulfilled, time will close its loop. What follows is yours."
Makoto nodded, a weight lifting from her heart. Her voice was light again.
"As you wish."
She turned toward Ei.
"Ei, come here."
"Mm."
Ei stepped forward without hesitation this time. As long as her sister could return, the rest didn't matter.
"Raise your right hand."
Ei obeyed—then froze.
Before her eyes, the light of her sister's essence condensed into three seeds, slowly descending into her open palm. Makoto's calm voice echoed around them.
"The miracle tree that shelters all people remains unseen for now.
Where and when it takes root shall depend on the one who gives it life.
Give it life, Ei."
Staring at the seed, Ei understood everything.
The Sacred Sakura had never originally existed in Inazuma.
Before the Khaenri'ah Cataclysm, everyone remembered that clearly.
But after Makoto fell and Ei returned, the Sakura appeared—and history itself rewrote so that it "had always been there."
She alone remembered differently.
This seed was the vessel of her sister's will—
the price of Makoto's pact with Istaroth.
She had gathered the faith and dreams of Inazuma's people, condensed them over a thousand years, and poured them into this seed through Istaroth's power—
to merge past, present, and future in this consciousness space.
Makoto herself would plant it with her own hand.
With the future, she would change the past—
and save Inazuma.
"I understand now, onee-sama."
Ei clenched her hand, feeling the pulse of the seed's power.
Then she opened her fingers and released it.
The ground shimmered, ripples spreading outward.
The seed of the Sacred Sakura drifted down and sank into the earth.
The soft, clear sound of water echoed.
Time, ever flowing forward, suddenly turned.
It began to run backward—
carrying that seed across unknown ages into the distant past.
And the loop of destiny began to close.
(End of Chapter)
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