Chapter 605: A Forest Fire Also Starts From a Small Spark - 3
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 605: A Forest Fire Also Starts From a Small Spark - 3
At that moment, someone had taken advantage of the chaos to sneak into the Tree of Genesis.
“Those foolish Anubis bastards. To think they’d just stomp right through the front entrance.”
In the past, there existed beings in Manguo known as priests.
They weren't particularly grand figures. The jungle was home to numerous barbarian tribes, each developing its own primitive faith.
Mother Nature. Spirits. The World Tree, totems. Powerful beasts or the Beast Kings. Anything with power became an object of worship. Faith led to inquiry, and inquiry became power, allowing the priests to emerge as beings wielding unique abilities even within this jungle.
The Agartha dynasty of Manguo tried for a long time to spread the teachings of the Sky God, but all their attempts ended in failure. It wasn't that the people couldn't accept them, but rather that they accepted the Sky God's teachings as just one among many faiths. The poor reach of the densely forested jungle blocked even the Sky God, whose influence spanned the continent.
Thus, the priests' power remained, having carved out its own independent domain. But to a king, an independent domain is always a thorn in the side. They clashed with Muhu at every turn.
Muhu Agartha's decision to become the king of the beastkin was likely also influenced by her dislike for humans.
“We must serve the King of Humans. If it is the King of Humans, he will drive out the mongrel beasts born of Muhu and make us pure again.”
It was only fair. The priests, after all, weren't particularly fond of Muhu either.
“The base of the World Tree is riddled with holes. Its massive trunk may look solid, but the inside is filled with countless passages. Some were dug by someone, others were made out of necessity.”
The Tree of Genesis inherited even the World Tree's size. The trunk, built to withstand such immense volume and mass, could not be described with a simple word like 'thick.' It was better to call it a mountain with suddenly steepening hills and early cliffs.
Because it was lush both above and below, the land where the World Tree was planted was not very hospitable. Hundreds of millions of gnarled roots, varying in height and thickness, were tangled like threads. Beneath them were many crater-like cavities, and if you fell into one, it was difficult to even recover the body.
There was a reason people built their homes on the branches. During the time of the previous World Tree, the Blessed Maidenhair Tree, residents couldn't live there at all. Only a few druids who tended the tree resided there.
“If you go underneath, there are countless water channels. They are passages for massive torrents that draw river water all the way up to the leaves. They might be managing the largest channels, but they can't manage all of them.”
The priests looked at each other and nodded. The Puppet Priest took out a cursed doll and moved its hands and feet.
In response, the 'puppets' moved. Corpse puppets, controlled by black magic, threw themselves into the water, devoid of reason. They were swept upward by the current created by the World Tree.
“Have you found it?”
“I'm looking. Be patient and wait…”
The water channels were straws the Tree of Genesis had stuck into the river, torrents that snaked up toward the sky. As they headed to various parts of the tree, they split and narrowed erratically.
Dozens of corpse puppets were diverted, drowning or being crushed to death. The corpses, saturated with drugs and mana, would likely clog the World Tree's channels for a long time and cause various sanitation problems.
Even so, one lucky puppet managed to find the right passage. The Puppet Priest lifted the still-intact cursed doll and shouted.
“Found it. This way.”
“Lead the way. We will follow you.”
“You should be grateful. If it weren't for me, you'd all have become fertilizer for the World Tree. Now, take my hair and wrap it. It will show you the way.”
Having finished their preparations, the priests threw themselves into the water channel that led to the summit.
An immense amount of pressure was needed to pump that staggering volume of water upward. The water pressure was enough to crush a person, but the priests protected themselves with various spells as they ascended the channel.
“How… much… farther…?”
“A long way! Conserve your breath!”
The experience of being pushed upward by a river was a rare one, even for the priests. A long time passed, long enough for the fear that this might never end to creep into their minds.
Their bodies were flung into the air.
“Gasp!”
“We've arrived!”
They had arrived inside the dark interior of the Tree of Genesis. They couldn't even guess how high they had climbed.
The Beast Priest sniffed the air, his nose twitching.
“Sniff, sniff. Damp, the smell of wet wood… It seems we're inside the World Tree.”
“I heard the King of Humans is at the summit. Which way is it?”
“We won't know until we get outside. I'll dig through the wall with my claws.”
As the Beast Priest approached the wall, extending his sharp claws, the Spirit Priest stopped him.
“Stop! If you harm the World Tree carelessly, the Great Druid might notice!”
“Then what do you suggest? It's only a matter of time before the Great Druid notices us anyway.”
“I'll hold a rite to find the souls of the dead. They might know the way.”
“This is the top of the World Tree. Who would have died up here?”
“I heard a witch lives here. Surely one or two must have died! This place is filled with vital essence. It's a good environment for vengeful spirits to linger. If it's the witches who split their minds and planted them in beasts, I can find them quickly!”
The Spirit Priest fumbled in her pouch, taking out pieces of fruit and meat. Placing down the minimal offerings for the rite, she shook a bell and began the ritual.
You can tell how a person lived by looking at their corpse. This is especially true for those who wielded mana or qi, as traces of it can remain engraved even after death. In a way, the Spirit Priest was more like a coroner who read those traces to deduce a person's actions in life.
There were no corpses here, but a similar trace would be enough. The Spirit Priest used her ritual to search for the traces of the dead.
The strong scent of food, the loud ringing of the bell. Signals stimulating the five senses filled the space. She searched for a human response mixed within the abundant vital essence all around. Before long, the Spirit Priest found a trace of death…
“Urp!”
…traces of death as numerous as the lush leaves outside.
“Bleegh! Urp. Kh, kuuegh!”
It was as if someone had grabbed the Spirit Priest and turned her inside out. After vomiting up everything in her stomach, she collapsed, her face plunging into her own filth.
The startled Beast Priest pulled her out. Her eyes had rolled back in her head, and she showed no sign of getting up.
“Hey! Shaman! What—what happened?!”
“…Hey. Look over here.”
The Puppet Priest, with a grave expression, pointed a finger. There, growing neatly along the wall, were flower petals. On branches that grew in an orderly fashion, as if tended by someone's hand, hung large fruits.
Visible inside the translucent fruits, filled with some unknown juice, was the silhouette of a human, curled up like a baby.
“…What is this?”
The Puppet Priest did a rough count. At least a hundred. If there were more like this, the number would multiply. He muttered, folding his fingers.
“…It seems someone has been using the World Tree for black magic.”
Just then, a clicking sound echoed from beyond the darkness. A faint lantern light spilled out from a dark corridor far away.
Footsteps that announced their presence. The Beast Priest's fur stood on end as he focused all his senses on the owner of the footsteps. And then he was dumbfounded.
‘…What? I can't feel anything…!’
“Sigh. Why are you all here?”
Black bats flew up in unison. After a flurry of silent wingbeats, a witch in a pitch-black dress and a pointed hat appeared before them like an illusion.
Walpurgis. The Witch of the Night.
The Great Witch's sole retainer, and the witch who manages the Primate's Floor alone.
And the nightmare that had once plunged this jungle into a deep, dark night.
Faced with her, the priests instinctively recoiled in fear. Amidst the panic, the Puppet Priest stepped forward calmly.
“Heh heh. O great and fearsome Witch of the Night. We have urgent matters to discuss.”
“And for that, you infiltrate my private quarters through a water channel? Do you normally sneak into someone's storeroom to have a chat?”
“If necessary, we might. How were we to know where the water channel led?”
“…I will hear you out, for now. Just know that I am being very considerate.”
Walpurgis crossed her arms. She radiated an aura of someone who had no intention of listening properly.
“I hear the King of Humans has appeared.”
But when the Puppet Priest got to the point, Walpurgis pulled her witch's hat down low over her troubled face.
“You know about it too? Is there anyone in the whole jungle who doesn't?”
“Anyone sensitive to news would know. He made quite the grand entrance.”
“It's a problem that's not my fault, but cleaning up the mess ends up being my job. Everyone is so irresponsible.”
The Puppet Priest waited until she had grumbled enough, then pointed to the meat fruits and asked.
“These fruits. Are they ingredients to resurrect the King of Humans?”
“You could say that.”
“Is the King of Humans also a being you created with these?”
“No. The King of Humans's body already existed. She was unconscious, but we were respectfully looking after her.”
“Then why did you make these humans?”
There was no need to hide it anymore. Walpurgis sighed and continued.
“The Great Druid sought out a witch. A witch's potion is both medicine and poison, capable of saving someone on the brink of death or killing a healthy person overnight. She thought that perhaps a witch's potion could be used to revive the King of Humans.”
The priests found this a little strange.
Many people seek out witches, but they are all people at the end of their rope. A witch's potion is an unknown quantity, its effects and intent unproven. It's something people with nothing left to lose bet all their chips on, isn't it?
“Of course, she didn't trust a witch's potion either. She doubted its effects and questioned me relentlessly. But how can you know what effect it has before someone drinks it? Someone has to try it.”
And the priest recalled another piece of the past.
Long ago. When the jungle was submerged in a deep, dark night.
Walpurgis sold illusions.
Those who drank her potions fell asleep in happy, pleasant dreams. It is said that when they awoke, they all shed tears. Give me back my illusion. Let me return to that world.
Those who awoke craved the night again and sought out Walpurgis, and each time, she gave them a new potion. Her customers would fall asleep with happy faces, and the majority of them never woke up.
That dark period, when the jungle fell into a quiet night without pain or screams, remained a terror in everyone's memory. People waiting for parents who never returned, for children who had vanished, for lovers who had abandoned them and left—they all went to the Great Witch, clinging to a thread of hope in the dark night.
The Great Witch acted for the sake of those who were once her people, and only after she took in the Witch of the Night did morning finally come to the jungle.
The people couldn't even cheer. They were simply grateful that the night had passed safely and went searching for those who had disappeared during it.
A few of them wondered how the Great Witch had taken in the Witch of the Night, but in the face of survival, curiosity was always a low priority. No one ever found out the reason…
“However, on this newly grown World Tree, all the ingredients grow. Roots that resemble people, mushrooms that grow under oak trees, the pistils of irises. They were all precious, but the test subjects needed to try such precious potions are more precious than anything.”
Here, Walpurgis revealed the reason.
“These meat fruits are test subjects for the potion I will give to the King of Humans. The sample size is large, the variables are few, and I can adjust the experimental group as I please.”
“Cough! Cough, cough!”
The Spirit Priest, having regained consciousness, coughed and pushed herself up. Her legs trembling pitifully, she didn't even think to wipe the vomit from her face as she screamed.
“H-How many people did you kill here…! How many deaths did it take for this space to be filled with so much death!”
“I haven't exactly been counting. Is there a problem? My using the meat fruits as test subjects should have nothing to do with you.”
Walpurgis, shrouded in darkness, lifted the brim of her hat slightly and feigned a question.
“The Night's Illusion Potion was made to ease pain and forget suffering. They were the ones who sought it out. They drank their fill, fell asleep drunk on illusions, and then they reported me to the Great Witch.”
A witch makes potions. No one can guarantee their effects. Not even the witch herself.
That is why she must find someone to drink them. Walpurgis used the night's illusions as bait to test countless potions.
Until the Great Witch, having heard the rumors, came for her.
“The Great Witch said the problem was that the night continued forever, severing the bonds of the day. She was considerate enough to let me use this place instead of searching for test subjects in the jungle. On the condition that I make the potion requested by the Great Druid, of course.”
The Spirit Priest stared at Walpurgis, consumed by fear and terror. But one of them, the Puppet Priest, laughed, overcome with a thrill.
“Kekeke. You should have told me you had something this good. I feel like a fool for scouring the jungle in search of usable puppets. It was a good thing I came up here.”
Walpurgis asked nonchalantly.
“Any other business?”
“Fruits that grow humans, and the King of Humans. It's not right to hide and monopolize something so important to all of humanity. We're saying you should share.”
“You have no intention of leaving, do you?”
“Why should we? We'll gain nothing if we leave like this.”
“No.”
Walpurgis grabbed the brim of her hat, lifted it slightly, and whispered.
“You'll get to keep your pathetic lives.”
At the same time, bats flew in from all directions. Screams inaudible to the human ear filled the space.
The Beast Priest leaped forward and tore Walpurgis's body to shreds. Her form scattered like an illusion, and black smoke enveloped the Beast Priest.
Walpurgis flickered for a moment before reappearing a few meters away, waving her hand nonchalantly.
“Sleep within the night.”
Bats scattering in all directions, and among them, shimmering powder drifted. It was a dreamlike, fantastical sight, as if the stars of the night had been ground into dust.
“H-Hold your breath! Don't breathe it in—!”
The Spirit Priest couldn't finish her sentence. Drugged, the priests collapsed one by one. Amidst the silent flapping of the bats' wings, only the Puppet Priest remained standing.
“You don't fall asleep. Then again, a puppet wouldn't need sleep, would it?”
“Khuhu. You noticed?”
The Puppet Priest took out a cursed doll he had prepared. As he infused mana into the doll, which was wrapped with someone's hair, the sleeping priests staggered back to their feet.
Their unconscious bodies became puppets, moving according to the Puppet Priest's will. The unsleeping puppets surrounded Walpurgis.
“Thanks to you, I've obtained some valuable puppets! Thank you, Witch of the Night! And now, I'll make you a puppet too!”
The Beast Priest charged, and the Spirit Priest swung her knife and bell. It was a coordinated attack that showed no concern for whether they injured each other. Walpurgis grabbed the brim of her hat and muttered.
“But sleeping potions aren't the only kind in the world.”
Walpurgis suddenly moved forward and embraced the Puppet Priest. The Puppet Priest recoiled at the unexpected action, but Walpurgis's form vanished as if seeping into him.
“What! What did you do—!”
“Enjoy it. The endless hallucinations and ecstasy. A night that will never come again.”
And at the voice that whispered in his ear, the Puppet Priest's back went rigid.
His body wouldn't obey him. A thrill ran down from his ears. It felt as if someone was playing with his body like a toy. Just before ecstasy filled his mind, the Puppet Priest felt an unknown fear.
‘This is dangerous…! I have to sever the connection with the puppet quickly!’
Puppets are usually human. That way, sensations can be transmitted fully without being distorted.
But this time, that advantage became a poison.
A witch is both medicine and poison. While he hesitated for a moment in the face of endless ecstasy, his body and mind began to refuse his commands. He surrendered his body to this endless pleasure and bliss.
Not to the puppet, but to him, the puppet master.
“Agh! Heok, heok! Hnnghaaaa!”
The Puppet Priest gasped in pleasure.
Overwhelming sensations muddled his mind. He trembled uncontrollably, twisted his body, and scratched furiously at himself to relieve an itch. The Puppet Priest forgot how to distinguish between the puppet and himself.
Both he and the puppet were now puppets of pleasure, a gift from the Witch of the Night. The moment he realized this, the priest's mind snapped.
“—May you sleep peacefully.”
The Witch of the Night whispered quietly amidst the falling puppets.