Chapter 603 - Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint

During the past two thousand years, Nevida has tried every means to awaken the King of Humans. This endeavor continues to this day. Gazing at the lotus petals where the King of Humans slumbered, she hoped this might be the final attempt. Over such an expanse of time, she faced too many failures. Her spirit had hardened like the bark of an ancient tree, so much so that even a sharp blade couldn't make her feel pain. She merely extended, withered, and extended new branches again and again. However, just before a new bud unfurled, there was a tingling sense of hope, a chance that this time it might work. During those moments, Nevida could sharply realize why she was alive, what she was living for. Nevida was born to serve her lord. The cursed mountain of Yullim, where the rebels who pierced her lord and fled remained waiting. El, who dared to betray her lord yet remained shamelessly. The warriors of a king that insisted on hosting a funeral for her still-breathing lord on their own territory. Those who plotted assassination under the claim that her lord must definitively die before the next would appear. Those who deceitfully expanded territories in her lord's absence and falsely claimed kingship to mislead the people. Those who pursued Nevida when she fled with her lord on the brink of death, to hunt or assassinate them. Those seeking to seize her lord to solidify their own authority. Those perpetuating El's teaching that a savior would one day return. The lord was the king of all humanity, yet humans were his enemies. No one truly revered and served him as their sovereign. Nevida ran away, transformed into trees to hide, and wandered for a long time while slumbering with her lord. She delved into vast knowledge to revive him, endured the passage of ages, and eventually even made the treachery tree bloom. And now, she was attempting the method with the highest possibility of success. Nervousness caused sweat to bead on her hands. Though she had turned her body into wood countless times, and though she had assimilated with the treacherous tree itself, Nevida's existence had diverged from humanity. Yet the thought of reuniting with her lord filled her with anticipation, like a tree that had endured the winter, ready to sprout anew just before welcoming spring. “….” But she couldn't simply wait for the fruit to ripen. For insects were being drawn to the scent of the flowers. "I have come to see the King of Humans! Open the gate!" The treacherous tree was bustling with visitors for the first time in ages. The visitors were from the Anub tribe, dog beastmen through and through. Known as the loyal hounds of Agartha, they belonged to a famous lineage from an old kingdom that still held high renown in this jungle. Unlike the beastmen born from fruits, these were descendants of a kingly dog from an ancient defiance against Mu Hu and Agartha. They bore the 'true' royal blood. “Woof. It seems word has spread. Other dogs have caught the scent and gathered.” Blanca Baskerville gave a soft bark, gazing at the base of the treacherous tree where countless roots extended, forming a rugged slope. “Isn't it because of your reckless actions?” Behind her, the flickering apparition of a small butterfly hovered. It was Walpurgis, the Witch of the Night, a legendary witch who once submerged this jungle in a cold, quiet night before being recruited by the Archwitch and Nevida. Unlike the Archwitch who had Founder’s blood, she ruled the jungle for over two centuries with purely black magic. She was a figure synonymous with the concept of a 'witch,' who had given much, taken much, saved, and ended endless lives. Although she had become relatively gentle after receiving the Archwitch's blood, she was quite on edge today. "Fighting the King of Humans, was it? For a mere visitor, what kind of impulsive behavior is that?" “Pff. How was I supposed to know they were the King of Humans or not? You didn't provide me with any information.” “Don’t you think the fact of the fight itself is the problem?” “Hmm. Not at all.” Blanca Baskerville casually caressed her alert ears as she responded. "I was born to fight. I was just doing my job, like these men." Blanca looked toward the hundred or so Anub tribesmen. "Come to think of it, you resemble them quite a bit! Do you have any links?" A suspicious figure with a monocle asked, producing eerie harmonies and unsettling clicks that wouldn't typically come from a living being. He was the architect of a military state, and though almost a guild leader in another realm, Maximilien was an alchemist and mage – a bizarre existence whose prowess in martial arts was comparable to a rational martial artist. Blanca’s ears folded slightly in discomfort at the unpleasant sound, as she replied. "These are said to be Mu Hu's loyal hounds—not a metaphor, they actually have ears and tails. They also carry the same loyalty as dogs. Wouldn't any emperor in their right mind want to have at least one for themselves?" "Do they share a common ancestor? Intriguing! Shortened ears and tails within just a couple of generations..." “…Are you picking a fight?” The ears and tails of the Baskerville were trimmed in childhood by those called ‘groomers.’ Their short ears and tails symbolized human arrogance. Blanca lowered her voice slightly and growled. But Maximilien, with a heart of cogs, questioned back without losing the steady beat. “Hmm? Was there anything quarrelsome about my words?” “You rotten...” Then, breaking away from her musings, Nevida spoke heavily. “That is not true. A tree at its origin doesn’t extend new branches in a mere few generations. That was the work of humans." "Their ears and tails? Fascinating. How did they do it?" “They cut the ears and tails in childhood. The ears and tails remained, but those traits were erased. It was pointless." It wasn’t that she wanted to end the fight; she merely sought to correct a factual error. The domain of origin trees belonged to Nevida. Rising to her feet, Nevida spoke. "Nenyaf is the vanguard of the harlot. They will certainly come to hinder us. We cannot afford to admit outsiders at this moment. Walpurgis, send the message." “…As presumptuous as it may seem, the Archwitch has already gone to greet them.” In the illusion sketched by Walpurgis, the Archwitch was seen descending from the sky on a large bird of prey. Nevida sighed as she murmured, gazing at the shadow painting made by Walpurgis. "Hexia?" "Yes. The Archwitch holds a fondness… and pity for the beastmen. What shall we do?" Nevida shook her head and said, "Let Hexia do as she pleases. I will not interfere." Despite her typically cold tone, her attitude towards the Archwitch was remarkably gentle. Maximilien was puzzled and asked, "Strange? I thought the leader was a fruit similar to me." "Naturally. You and I are fruits grown from the same branch," she replied. "No, I'm not talking about the leader's tree. I meant disposition. I like everything to mesh like cogs, and I thought the leader was just as free of blood and tears, like a tree. Yet you're particularly soft with the Archwitch?" "Even trees have blood and tears. They just take different forms." Briefly responding, Nevida continued, "She’s my mentor." "A mentor? An exalted being that's been imparting wisdom since antiquity had a mentor?" "There were many. As many as the years." Nevida then reminisced about her mentors in sequence. Her first mentor was a cantankerous druid. All he did was drink and cause trouble while making her run errands. Though she learned nothing from him, he was the first she saw, and thus, she became a druid. Her second mentor was the King of Humans. She taught Nevida everything but never gave her any commands or directives. Nevida decided to use all her abilities for her. ... Regrettably, the next mentor was El. El didn't teach Nevida directly, but the world she showed expanded Nevida's horizons. Particularly, the four taboos El displayed became the soil to plant the origin tree. YW9peUx5cktZYXhyU2hzY1VsMkQ0WVJOb0l6NzBLUUd5TVd5UldkWjhyckNFWXFqZnc4SjJDcU5VelNCMmpvRA Did El foresee that Nevida would become a demon god? Probably not. Demon gods are beyond prophecy from places like the sanctum. Yet, the lingering irritation was unchanged. Nevida chose to ignore it, as pondering it served no purpose. "Hexia's insight led me to become a demon god. Before her, I was merely an aged druid, but now I'm a demon god stretched across the world." "Was the Archwitch that remarkable? What did she do?" "The idea of meat growing on trees." "But how did the leader become a demon god from what the Archwitch did?" A tree stretching from the origin of species, with beasts hanging from its branches — that insight was a piercing intuition of the world. But Nevida couldn't explain it. Instead, she pointed out Maximilien's keen interest. "If you become a demon god, you'll understand." "Haha! That's unfair! Saying one can't comprehend without the qualification!" Laughing as if brushing it off, Maximilien smiled a bit self-deprecatingly and inquired. "In the military state, the King of Humans told me. My unique magic isn't a part of the world; it's merely my way of interpreting the world for convenience. That I'd never be a demon god." "Did he say so?" "What do you think? I'd like to ask you, the demon god. Do you share the King of Humans' thought?” On that, Nevida could answer confidently. She stated firmly. "I do not know. I do not understand other demon gods. Likewise, what a demon god is." "Tsk! It's not helpful!" "No one would be helpful." That is what makes a demon god. Could it be that he was feeling a bit cowed? Maximilien silently turned his gaze. Outside the large knot-hole that replaced a window, a fierce wind was blowing. Leaves were falling from the world tree, the most storm-ridden tree in both a meteorological and metaphorical sense, as the fierce wind passed by. The scene of the world tree shedding its leaves was, in itself, a breathtaking spectacle.... Suddenly, those present felt a sense of dissonance. “Huh? Were these leaves supposed to fall?” Nature's changes are continuous. They don’t happen abruptly. Nature follows a natural order, reasonable logic, and it provides such foreshadowing beforehand. Yet the falling leaves from the treacherous tree were alien to all that. "Woof. Now that you mention it, my lips were a bit chapped. The humidity’s low." Blanca muttered, licking her lips. Her slightly chapped lips seemed parched for moisture. "It's not supposed to be this season yet." Nevida muttered, summoning a flower to bloom at her fingertip. The petals, which should have been drenched in dew and in full bloom, for some reason, dried up halfway and fell off. The days are parched. The moisture is lacking. So much so that even the leaves of the origin tree are withering. But that's peculiar. "Impossible. This land is where dozens of water streams cross. The world tree absorbs so much water it can spew clouds, so how can the days be parched?" Walpurgis raised a legitimate question. Trees draw water from the ground and release it to the leaves; the world tree is like the king of such trees. This land should always be brimming with life under the world tree’s grace. And life, after all, means moisture. So how could moisture be lacking? While it puzzled everyone, Nevida knew the reason. "The harlot." Nevida spread her roots. Unlike human senses, it was far less sensitive but effective enough. She felt the moisture with the tips of her roots and realized. The waterways. The atmosphere. Were employing a scorched-earth tactic against the origin tree. Rivers that should be flowing are drying up, and there’s not a cloud in the dry sky. This land, the space with the origin tree, seemed to have been deprived of moisture. "It’s divine intervention. The ‘water’ is being stolen from the origin tree." "Since when?" "You can't block waterways overnight. Considering the scope... probably since…." From the moment Nevida sensed the aura of the God of Offering, Ankhra, from across the forest. The attack was so unexpected that she hadn't realized it sooner. The tree is passive. Without pursuing water when lacking moisture, it resolutely accepts its fate, letting its leaves fall. That is how a tree survives. Under normal circumstances, Nevida might have noticed, but she was preoccupied with awakening the lotus where the King of Humans slept. "From the very start, I suppose." "And by start, you mean?" "It must have begun before I sought out the King. Gradually, tightening so slowly that it wouldn't be detected." To a tree, water is akin to the fusion of food, shelter, and clothing. Even if the origin tree were the true world tree, it would still suffer considerable damage. Probably, much like those days when the world tree was set ablaze. However. Maximilien seemed puzzled and asked again. "What’s the issue? Isn't this a demon god in the form of a tree?" A demon god doesn’t wither. Even when its water source dries up, the origin tree remains unchanged. Knowledge, unlike water or seasons, persists in the ground as it is. The leaves are mere embellishments. The true essence of the origin tree lies in the species grown from its infinitely splitting branches. The origin of that species is the origin tree itself. "Even if a few leaves fall, it poses no problem. At most, the people living below might be mildly confused. There's no real problem here." Branches that bear rice, wheat, beans, and others. The fruits from those branches might not fully ripen and would fall. But what of it? Besides the residents under the world tree's shade, neither Nevida nor the sovereigns of creation would suffer any harm. "…That can't be." Walpurgis dismissed Maximilien’s words. "The former Mu Hu of the Nations was swept away and perished amidst such chaos. Following that, the world tree burned, and night fell upon the Nations. What they wish to incite is chaos itself, which could be the spark to set this entire tree ablaze!"