Great Nature Expansion - Part 4: The Rebirth of Nyaltartep

Let me say it again: even legendary creations have personalities and emotions.

They simply do not suffer boredom, ennui, or mental illness born purely from the passage of “time.” Yet if the stress exceeds their own Mental stat, they collapse all the same.

The manner of that collapse could fairly be called human.

Still, when one considers that not every race shares the same temperament or habits, and that Tademoira was a unique creation resembling nothing else in existence, it followed that Tademoira broke in a manner that was entirely her own.

She simply abandoned the field she had tended and descended beneath the Sky Garden.

In truth she was already mentally shattered. A flower spirit, the very embodiment of floriculture and horticulture, had lost all interest in plants and simply walked away.

Yet something stopped her.

“Tatemoira. Don’t go.”

“Don’t go. Sad.”

They were the remnants of Mugite’s race. Their intelligence had either regressed or evolved along some alien path until they were little more than beasts—the Sugar Lumps.

Those Sugar Lumps clung to her and begged her not to leave. Their eyes brimmed with warmth. With love. With tenderness and sorrow…

But at the same time their protruding jaws, swollen craniums, and distended bellies made it brutally clear they had become creations of this world’s god, utterly divorced from their original kind. Therefore what Tatemoira felt toward them was not love but irritation and fear.

“……”

Tatemoira abandoned the things she had once cherished and descended from the Sky Garden. Behind her the Magic Sugar Lumps flew into a frenzy, stamping their feet in rage and mourning, but she had no desire to watch.

Her heart ached. She could not precisely explain why.

The once-vast Sky ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Garden was now overrun with weeds that might as well have been crops, along with deformed vegetables and flowers that had shrunk and toughened to survive among them.

As she slowly made her way down through the ruined garden, the first landmark she reached was the Cloud Bridge.

This, too, was terrain that contained a god fragment. What should have been a realm for spirits and monsters of the Great Firmament was now packed with a life-form the god of this world had created—something called yogurt.

It had stitched itself to a colossal spiritual realm connected to the sky and soaked the entire patchwork in sticky syrup.

Tatemoira descended the Cloud Bridge step by step. Wherever her feet touched, grass and turf sprouted from the clouds, rolling out a living carpet beneath her.

Farther down lay the river that spiraled around the mountain from the summit spring, feeding terraced fields and villages. Tatemoira’s own plants still clung to life here, yet they were vastly outnumbered by the vicious species of the Dessert Legion—moving jellies and gummies that had devoured everything and coated the land in yet more sticky syrup.

And there were Sugar Lumps everywhere.

The Martial Sugar Lumps bounded nimbly through the trees and rugged ridges, hunting jellies, plucking what little fruit had managed to grow.

When they noticed her they waved cheerfully in greeting.

Their unnaturally swift reaction to her presence unsettled her.

Tatemoira continued walking, listless, following the mountain river along the terraced roads and syrup-drenched waterways. With every step she laid fresh carpets of grass and flowers.

Bugs trailed after her, but they and the grass were merely the natural expression of a flower spirit’s authority.

The Martial Sugar Lumps that tried to cling to her seemed to be offering affection; Tatemoira simply swatted them aside.

Lower still lay the desert terrain. Though called a desert, half of it was a floodplain wetland fed by flowing rivers—excellent for farming and grazing. Now, however, it was occupied solely by cacti and Caramel Camels.

When those hardy creatures moved to devour even her, Tatemoira simply fixed them with the dignified glare of a legendary creation.

The Caramel Camel flinched and retreated in confusion. Tatemoira felt a wretched pang at the thought that the civilization her god had built had been toppled by such mindless things.

Yet she could not destroy them. She was a flower spirit capable only of creation, prosperity, and healing.

Tatemoira surveyed what had once been Mugite’s domain and finally found it.

“More!”

It was an absurdly colossal life-form—obese, multi-legged, with an enormous mouth.

Wrapped in mist crowded with eyes and mouths, it devoured everything that passed, continuously birthed from orifices in its rear and torso, consumed rock and spiritual structures alike, then rebuilt them.

It was Shuc-rimmurath. She was linking the entire territory with syrup and Creamland while harvesting the genes of every remaining species, scattering bread- and jelly-type organisms in every direction.

Tatemoira despaired. She had believed that at the very least she was the finest creator of life this world had ever seen.

Yet even that role had been surpassed. She could not consume and produce with such destructive efficiency. Now Tatemoira had nothing left to boast of.

The grotesque gummies Shuc-rimmurath spewed forth, the jellies that ate them, the gamchi that fed on both—they were all unbearably repulsive.

What did it matter that carpets of grass and swarms of insects sprang up wherever Tatemoira walked? She could not overcome even the weeds of this place, let alone its dominant life-forms.

And worst of all were the Sugar Lumps that had begun evolving to hunt those jellies and gamchi, their bodies twisting into ever more grotesque shapes. The way they waved and greeted her made her skin crawl.

I’d rather die than live in a place like this.

The thought came to her suddenly. A severe mental illness had taken root. Tatemoira left Mugite’s former lands and kept walking.

It seemed the world had been fused directly with the original grassland region. The moment she stepped out she was greeted by endless plains and a horrific forest of jellies and gummies.

She also saw Yogur-tosoth and the hordes of Magic Sugar Lumps that worshipped him and studied magic.

Across the plains, camels and other creatures were chased by Martial Sugar Lumps, snatched by gamchi, or—in reverse—skewered and devoured one by one by gigantic puddings.

Even the Martial Sugar Lumps with their extraordinary reflexes could not dodge every tentacle strike.

She did not want to see Yogur-tosoth. That creature might kill her on sight.

Yet from afar she could not help but witness the Magic Sugar Lumps dancing and singing in response to his words, learning magic, forming their own crude culture and society.

Beyond Yogur-tosoth’s domain the land descended into wetlands. Tatemoira felt a measure of relief; at least “normal” life-forms seemed more common here.

The vicious weeds that had destroyed her world were being cultivated in these marshes.

The herbivorous animals that grazed on the wetland grasses resembled hippos and were immensely powerful. Thanks to the traits Biin had chosen this cycle and the influence of Great Nature, the ecosystem had become extraordinarily prosperous.

Out of sheer spite Tatemoira transformed the grasses into harmless varieties that bore beautiful fruit and flowers instead ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of weeds. They were eaten almost at once, but her stubbornness flared and she adjusted the plants again so they would at least yield fruits and vegetables that other intelligent beings might enjoy.

What was the point? Tatemoira simply kept walking.

How many years did she wander that vast, thick wetland? When she finally descended, desert and cactus forest appeared.

The desert was coated in sticky syrup and cream, teeming with rock jellies that fed upon it. The cactus forest exploded with grasses that grew madly after rain and with cacti so enormous no other description sufficed.

This, at least, felt almost dear to Tatemoira. The only nuisance was the crazed candies that hurled themselves at her. Oblivious to the difference in rank, they kept leaping toward her.

Even here Sugar Lumps existed. They had evolved into desert primates.

Their fur had thickened to endure the blazing sun. They smashed cacti or other creatures with stones, sucked the sap inside, or hunted gamchi that fed on cactus and grass.

“Uho! Uho! Uho!”

“Tatemoira!”

They recognized her. She had deliberately taken the long way around for ages so that no one would remember her, yet they still had not forgotten.

A generation seemed to have passed—had the memory been handed down? Their linguistic ability appeared sufficient for it.

Tatemoira found their presence unbearable and left at once. Through the cactus forest—now flowing with cream and syrup so that plants flourished endlessly—wherever she passed, insects, grasses, and flowers burst forth in lush profusion.

And Tatemoira continued downward until she reached the region where an unidentifiable sweet scent hung in the air.

The Nectar Well. Or rather, the Nectar Lake.

The origin of the Dessert Desert, the fountain of life that sustained every vicious species.

At first glance it was a sweet hell.

The jellies, originally transparent, had colored their glassy bodies to reflect every hue of light so they could endure solar heat. As a result they glittered like living prisms. The ground was carpeted in their shed shells, like shards of colored glass.

Here lived only gamchi that preyed on jellies and gummies, the supreme jelly known as yanggaeng, carnivorous and scavenging puddings, and jellies that consumed both nectar and rock.

There were no plants. Though plants could drink nectar, the environment was not hospitable enough for them to thrive.

Tatemoira walked into the Nectar Well basin.

No matter how powerful the jellies had become, no matter how many bisyakheets and gamchi built fortresses from glassy shards, they could not bar an 8-level creation like Tatemoira.

Driven by her own competitive spirit, she continued generating grass and insects with every step, pressing deeper.

And then she saw it.

The boundlessly wide Nectar Lake. Jellies swarmed from bottom to surface; countless gamchi devoured them; other gamchi devoured those gamchi; and among them moved the worst invader of all—the bisyakheet.

Four islands rose within the lake, each augmented by Great Nature terrain, creating an extraordinarily complex environment. She had reached the very heart of the Nectar Well.

Tatemoira thought:

Should I throw myself in and end it?

Would that be a good death? She did not know. If she died inside this Nectar Well she might prove useless to this world’s god.

Splash!

The instant the thought formed, a gigantic tentacle erupted from the depths along with a monstrous cry.

“Iyaiyaaaaaaa! Who are yoooooooou!”

Tatemoira’s mood sank even lower. So there was a monster here too.

By her own measure she was a similar legendary creation, yet this thing was simply too much. How could anyone shape a lake fairy into such a form?

She sighed.

“Tatemoira. I am the creation of the god defeated last time. And you?”

“Abhojuth!!! Then why did you come heeeeere?”

“I’m not sure. I came looking for a place where I might belong. It seems there is none in this world. Though it looks as if this world’s god has prepared a place for you.”

Abhojuth’s intelligence was extremely low. Perhaps even lower than the Sugar Lumps’.

Yet that same Abhojuth at least possessed enough mind to hold something resembling conversation.

“Will you wait until night tiiiiime?”

“?”

Having nothing better to do, she waited. She simply watched the ferocious ecosystem of the Nectar Well, using the Sugar Lumps that had begun gathering around her as cushions, the grasses sprouting at her feet as a seat, and the butterfly-like insects as living scenery.

Night fell in the blink of an eye. The desert sun truly set quickly.

The moment it vanished, light began to gather within the Nectar Well.

“Ah?”

From deep inside the sludgy waters, lights surged upward and danced as though the constellations of the night sky had been embroidered across the lake.

The toppings that had always glowed, and the jelly-types living in symbiosis with them, had evolved to emit light only after sunset when no sunlight remained.

The brilliantly shining Nectar Lake, with not a single cloud overhead, sparkled as if the universe itself had been embedded in its depths. It was a truly spectacular sight.

“How is iiiiiit?”

“It’s beautiful. One of the few beautiful things… in this world.”

“Iyaiya! The Dessert Desert is a wonderful enough place! And it’s become even more wonderful thanks to you!”

“Because of me?”

Rather than answer, Abhojuth lifted a tentacle and pointed around them.

Countless Sugar Lumps stared with wide, shining eyes, moved by the lake’s light. They danced and sang atop carpets of grass instead of the sharp glass shards, celebrating.

Countless butterflies and grasses did the same. Though their intelligence was low and they possessed no civilization, they were moved, and they lived.

“Ah……”

Tatemoira hurriedly looked back along the path she had taken.

The grasses and insects that had sprung up wherever she walked were surviving fiercely, refusing to yield to this world’s vicious life. They spread wide—some encroaching, some yielding, yet all clinging stubbornly to existence.

The Sugar Lumps were the same. They had lost portions of their intelligence, but in exchange they had gained life.

Was it merely the existence of livestock, surviving and nothing more? No. They had freedom.

Even now, bereft of much of their intellect, they laughed, chattered, played ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pranks on one another, and—remembering their past selves—waved at her.

Tatemoira ran back the way she had come. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Past Yogur-tosoth’s domain, up the mountain, across the land now thoroughly blended with plants and jellies until no trace of civilization remained, and finally returned to the Sky Garden that had once been hers.

It had changed beyond recognition. How much time had passed? The Sky Garden had been overtaken by Great Nature.

Yet it had survived. Countless Sugar Lumps, gamchi, birds, bats, flowers, vegetables, and fruits—though their forms might have changed—were all enduring with stubborn vitality.

They had not lost their intelligence. They had not given up.

In place of intellect and civilization they had gained… a fierce life, and with it strength, passion, and emotion.

When she returned to the Sky Garden none of the Sugar Lumps she once knew were present. Yet they still waved at her.

“Tatemoira!”

They remembered. Without reason or prompting, they remembered the one who had protected them…!

Tatemoira shouted toward the sky.

“My god! Now I understand! What I should truly wish for, what I should believe in and act upon!”

A clone of the god appeared before her. Tatemoira shouted at the clone.

“Please give me a chance! Let me live among them! Make me a member of your ecosystem!”

Twitch—!

Twitch—! Twitch—! Twitch—!

Tatemoira felt ecstasy. The sensation of her body being reborn in divinity. The feeling of becoming a member of this ecosystem of infinite potential in a new form.

This was neither corruption nor madness. Tatemoira had judged with perfect rationality that it was right to become one of them and prosper.

Whether one served civilization or served an ecosystem, if the defeated were to aid the victor, what did the shape matter? No matter how her old god’s race had changed, they still remembered her—what difference did anything else make?

Twitch—!