Nue can’t really say he understands the mortals’ sudden drive to harm him. Perhaps from being the negativity god? Mortals don’t seem to find him too... preferable. Nobody really likes the thought of death, after all. He regards their attacks with an empty as ever expression, but doesn’t fight back, merely holding up one arm in a way that almost looks like he’s trying to protect himself from the onslaught. Doesn’t stop a few carefully aimed projectiles from making contact.
Harming mortals disrupts the balance. Fighting back, according to all the logical power of thought he can conjure, would both only worsen his problem, and it isn’t classified under what he’s learned is the “right” thing to do. At least as far as he’s capable of understanding. So he merely takes the attacks. However. A memory appears to be jogged, thanks to his situation. An earthy scent, an ever-present ticking sound, and a flash of white hair. A clear hourglass symbol. Stones, loud mortals. This had happened before...? The book smacking against his shoulder snaps him out of it.
Nue doesn’t say anything. Merely tucks his tail between his legs like a threatened animal, despite his lack of emotions, pulls his cloak over himself from seemingly nowhere, and turns tail, running in the opposite direction, as quickly as he can move, with his cloak billowing around him, until he disappears. He’d fled in the direction of Blackspace without a word.