Chapter 603: Even a Wildfire Starts with a Tiny Spark - 1
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 603: Even a Wildfire Starts with a Tiny Spark - 1
For the past two thousand years, Nevida had tried everything to awaken the King of Humans. And her efforts continued to this day. Hoping this would be her final attempt, Nevida gazed at the lotus petal where the King of Humans slept.
She had suffered too many failures over too long a time. Now, her heart had hardened like the bark of an ancient tree, feeling no pain even when cut by the sharpest of blades. It simply, impassively, extended new branches, withered, and extended them again, over and over.
But in the moments just before a new shoot sprouted, when the faint, tickling hope that this time, it might work blossomed within her, Nevida would keenly realize why she was alive, and what she was living for.
She was born to serve her King.
The traitors who had stabbed her King on the cursed Mount Yullim and fled. El, who had dared to betray the King, yet shamelessly waited.
The King's own warriors, who stepped forward to bury her in their own lands while she still clung to life. Those who plotted her assassination, claiming she had to die completely for the next King to appear. The bastards who expanded their territories in her absence, daring to usurp her title and deceive the people.
The scoundrels who chased, hunted, and tried to assassinate Nevida as she fled with her King, who lingered on the threshold of death. Those who sought to secure their own positions by getting their hands on her. And the ones who spread the teachings El left behind, proclaiming that a savior would one day come to the world.
She was the King of Humans, yet humanity was her enemy. No one respected or served her as their King. Nevida fled, hid by turning into a tree, and slept alongside her King, wandering through the long ages. To revive her, she delved into all manner of knowledge, endured the passage of eons, and in the end, even made the Tree of Corruption bloom.
And now, she was attempting the most promising method yet.
Her hands were sweating with tension. Though her physical body had transcended the bounds of humanity—having transformed into a tree countless times and synchronized with the Tree of Corruption itself—the thought of reuniting with her King made her feel as excited as a tree that had endured winter, like a new bud just before the arrival of spring.
“…”
However, she could not simply wait for the fruit to ripen.
Because insects were being drawn to the flower's scent.
“We have come to see the King of Humans! Open the gate!”
The Tree of Corruption was bustling with visitors for the first time in a long while.
The Anub tribe, composed entirely of dog beastkin. The loyal hounds of Agartha, a renowned family of the old kingdom that still held great prestige in this jungle.
Unlike the beastkin born from the fruit, they were the children of the Dog King and Agartha, born from the dalliance of some Muhu long ago. They were the 'real' ones, who had strongly inherited the King's blood.
“Woof. Looks like the rumor's spread. Other dogs have caught the scent and are flocking here.”
Blanca Baskerville barked softly as she looked down toward the entrance to the Tree of Corruption, where millions of roots spread out to form a winding slope.
“And isn't that because you went on a rampage?”
Behind her, the small illusion of a butterfly shimmered. Walpurgis. The Witch of the Night. She was a legendary witch who, before being recruited by the Great Witch and Nevida, had steeped this jungle in cold, silent nights. Unlike the Great Witch, who had received the Progenitor's blood, she had ruled the jungle for over 200 years with pure black magic.
She was the very concept of a 'witch'—one who gave much, took much, and held the power of life and death over countless beings. Though she had become relatively more benevolent after receiving the Great Witch's blood, she was particularly on edge today.
“Fighting the King of Humans. What kind of impulsive behavior is that for someone who is merely a guest here?”
“Hmph. How was I supposed to know if he was the King of Humans or not? You didn't give me any information.”
“Don't you think the fight itself is the problem?”
“Nope. Not at all.”
Blanca Baskerville answered, fiddling with her perked-up ears.
“I was born to fight, after all. I was just doing my job, wasn't I? Just like them.”
At the end of Blanca’s gaze stood about a hundred members of the Anub tribe.
“Come to think of it, you lot look quite similar to them! Is there some connection?”
A strange man with a monocle, who had been watching the two, asked with a series of clicks and whirs. The meshing sounds, impossible for a living creature to make, were harmonious yet unsettling.
Warforger Maximilien, one of the Military State's Six Generals, an alchemist and mage who had nearly become a Primarch in the Fallen Dominion. The architect of the Military State. He was a mage, yet his martial prowess was comparable to a Qi Practitioner who had reached the Axiom—a truly bizarre existence.
Blanca folded her ears slightly at the unpleasant sound and said.
“They're the Muhu's loyal hounds. Not a metaphor; they actually have ears and tails. And the loyalty of a dog, too. Wouldn't even an emperor who holds all the world's riches want to have one?”
“So you share an ancestor! I see! For your ears and tails to have shortened in just a few generations is—”
“…Grrr? Are you trying to pick a fight?”
Baskerville's ears and tail had been cut when she was young by those called 'groomers.' The short ears and tail symbolized human arrogance.
Blanca lowered her voice slightly and growled. But Maximilien, with his gear-driven heart, showed no agitation and asked back in a steady rhythm.
“Hmm? Was there something in my words that could be considered provocative?”
“You…”
Just then, Nevida, shaking off her reverie, spoke in a heavy tone.
“That is not so. The Tree of Genesis does not branch out in only a few generations. That is the work of human hands.”
“On the ears and tail? Fascinating. How was it done?”
“Their ears and tails were cut off when they were young. They still possess them, but it was an attempt to erase those features. A completely useless act.”
She likely wanted not so much to stop the fight as to correct a factual error. The Tree of Genesis was, after all, Nevida's domain.
Nevida rose to her feet and said.
“Nenyaphh is the Harlot's spy. She will surely come to interfere. We cannot let outsiders in at a time like this. Walpurgis, relay the message.”
“…With all due respect, the Great Witch has already gone to greet them.”
The illusion created by Walpurgis showed the Great Witch descending on the back of a large hawk. Nevida stared intently at the illusion and muttered.
“Hexia?”
“Yes. The Great Witch finds beastkin cute... and pitiable. What should we do?”
Nevida shook her head and said.
“Let Hexia do as she wishes. I will not interfere.”
Contrary to her cold tone, her attitude toward the Great Witch was nothing but soft. Maximilien asked, looking puzzled.
“Strange. I thought you were the same kind of fruit as me, Commander.”
“Of course. You and I are fruits from the same branch.”
“No, I wasn't talking about your tree. I meant your disposition. I like things that fit together perfectly, like gears, and I thought you, Commander, were as cold and heartless as a tree. But you are unusually soft on the Great Witch, aren't you?”
“Trees have blood and tears as well. Their form is merely different.”
After that short reply, Nevida continued.
“She is my teacher.”
“A teacher? Even a supreme being who has lived since primordial times, bestowing teachings, had a teacher?”
“Many. As many as my years.”
Nevida recalled her teachers one by one.
Her first teacher was an ill-tempered druid. All he did was get drunk, cause trouble, and send her on errands. She learned nothing from him, but because he was the first she met, Nevida became a druid.
Her second teacher was the King of Humans. She taught Nevida everything, but never gave her a single order or command. Nevida resolved to use all her abilities for the King's sake.
…Regrettably, her next teacher was El. El did not teach Nevida directly, but the world she showed her broadened her horizons. In particular, the four Anathemas she revealed... became the soil in which she planted the Tree of Genesis.
Could El have known that Nevida would become a Divine? Probably not. The Sanctum cannot prophesize about the Divine. The Divine are beings beyond the frame.
But the surging unpleasantness remained. Nevida decided to ignore it. There was no point in dwelling on it.
“Hexia's idea led me to become a Divine. Before her, I was merely an old druid, but now, I am a Divine whose reach extends across the world.”
“Was the Great Witch that incredible? What did she do?”
“The idea that meat could grow on trees.”
“But the Great Witch did that, so how did you become a Divine, Commander?”
A tree whose branches, extending from the origin of species, bear beasts at their tips. That very idea is an intuition that pierces the fabric of the world.
But Nevida could not explain it. Instead, she addressed why Maximilien was showing such interest.
“You will understand if you become a Divine.”
“Hahaha. How cowardly! Are you saying one cannot understand without the qualification?”
Maximilien laughed it off, then asked with a slightly self-deprecating smile.
“In the Military State, the King of Humans told me. He said my Unique Magic wasn't a part of the world, but merely a way for me to interpret the world for my own convenience. That I could never become a Divine.”
“The King said that?”
“What do you think? I want to ask a Divine. Do you share the King of Humans' opinion, Commander?”
On that, she could answer with certainty. Nevida stated clearly.
“I do not know. I do not understand the other Divine, either. The same goes for what a Divine even is.”
“Tsk! Not helpful at all!”
“No one will be.”
For that is what it means to be a Divine.
Was he intimidated? Maximilien silently turned his gaze away. Outside the large knothole that served as a window, a fierce wind was blowing. Leaves were falling from the Tree of Genesis—the most turbulent tree in the world, a tree that brought storms both meteorologically and idiomatically—carried on that fierce wind.
The sight of the World Tree's leaves falling was a spectacle of truly wondrous proportions….
Suddenly, everyone present felt a sense of wrongness.
“Grr? Do the leaves normally fall?”
Change in nature is continuous. It does not happen suddenly in a single moment. Nature has its proper order and follows a reasonable logic, always providing foreshadowing.
But the leaves falling from the Tree of Corruption were alien to all of that.
“Woof. Come to think of it, my lips are a little chapped. The humidity is low.”
Blanca muttered, licking her lips with her tongue. Her slightly chapped lips drank up the saliva as if thirsty.
“It shouldn't be that season yet.”
Nevida murmured and made a flower bloom from her fingertip. The petals, which should have been dewy and in full bloom, instead opened only halfway before drying up and falling off.
The air is dry. There isn't enough moisture. So much so that even the leaves of the Tree of Genesis are withering.
But that was strange.
“Impossible. This land is where dozens of waterways intersect. The World Tree drinks enough water to exhale clouds on its own, so how can the air be dry?”
Walpurgis raised a valid point. A tree draws water from the ground and releases it through its leaves, and the World Tree is the king of all such trees. This land, blessed by the World Tree, should always be teeming with life. And life is synonymous with moisture.
So how could there be a lack of moisture?
It was a mystery to everyone, but Nevida knew the reason.
“The Harlot.”
Nevida extended her roots. It was a different sense from a human's, far less sensitive, but she could feel the moisture with the tips of her roots. And she realized.
The waterways. The atmosphere.
They were waging a scorched-earth campaign against the Tree of Genesis.
The waterways that should be flowing have diminished, and not a single cloud can be seen in the dry sky. It was as if this land, this space where the Tree of Genesis stood, had been deprived of all moisture.
“It is the power of the Sky God. He is stealing 'water' from the Tree of Genesis.”
“Since when?”
“You can't block the waterways overnight. Judging by the scale, it must have been…”
Since the time Nevida sensed the energy of the Sacrificial Vessel, Ankra, on the other side of the forest.
The attack was so unexpected that she was late to notice. A tree is passive. Unable to go in search of water even when it is scarce, it calmly accepts its fate and sheds its leaves. That is how a tree survives.
Normally, she might have noticed, but she had been too preoccupied with making the lotus bloom for the sleeping King of Humans.
“It must have been from the very beginning.”
“The beginning?”
“It must have started even before I went to find my King. Slowly, imperceptibly, it has been tightening its grip.”
To a tree, water is something akin to food, clothing, and shelter all rolled into one. Even if the Tree of Genesis were the real World Tree, it would have suffered significant damage. Perhaps just like that time long ago, when they burned the World Tree.
However.
Maximilien asked again, puzzled.
“What's the problem? This is a Divine in the form of a tree, is it not?”
A Divine does not wither. Even if all the water dries up, the Tree of Genesis remains the same. Knowledge is something that stays rooted in the land, regardless of water or seasons.
Those leaves are mere ornaments. The true essence of the Tree of Genesis is the species that grow from its countless, branching limbs. The origin of those species is the Tree of Genesis.
“What does it matter if a few leaves fall? There's no problem here. At worst, the people living down below will be a little confused. It's no problem at all.”
The branch that grows rice, the branch that grows wheat, the branch that grows beans, and so on. The fruits growing on those branches will fall before they can ripen. But what of it? Other than the residents living in the shade of the World Tree, it won't affect its true body, Nevida, or the Human Regime in the slightest.
“…That can't be right.”
Walpurgis dismissed Maximilien's words.
“In the past, the Muhu of Manguo was swept up in such chaos and perished. After that, the World Tree burned, and night fell upon Manguo. What they desire is the chaos itself. A spark that will burn this entire tree to the ground!”