Chapter 605 - Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint

At that moment, amidst the chaos, there was someone who had snuck into the Tree of Origin. “Those foolish Anubis. How could they just stride straight into the entrance like that?” In the past, there were figures known as priests in the nations. They weren’t particularly extraordinary beings. The jungles were filled with numerous barbaric tribes, each developing their own primitive faiths. Nature. Spirits. The World Tree. Totems. Powerful beasts or the Beast King. Anything with power became an object of faith. Faith led to exploration, and exploration turned into power, allowing priests to become unique beings with extraordinary abilities even within the jungle. The Agartha dynasty of the nations attempted over the ages to spread the teachings of the Celestial God, but all attempts ended in mere trials. Not because people couldn’t accept them, but because the teachings were just accepted as another among the plethora of faiths. The dense jungles with their low propagation rates even obstructed the Celestial God. Thus, the power of the priests remained in a sovereign domain, but for the king, any autonomous domain was always a thorn in the side. They clashed with Mu Hu at every turn. One may speculate that Mu Hu Agartha's decision to become the Beast King was partly due to his disdain for humans. “We must revere the King of Humans. The King of Humans will drive away the mongrel beasts birthed by Mu Hu and restore our purity.” It was an equitable stance. The priests likely didn’t care much for Mu Hu either. “The World Tree is hollow beneath. Its enormous trunk seems densely packed, but inside, there are countless holes. Some were dug out, while others were made out of necessity.” The Tree of Origin had inherited even the size of the World Tree. The tree trunk supporting its colossal volume and mass can't merely be described as thick. It’s more appropriate to say it’s like a suddenly steep hill or an early-emerging cliff. The land where the World Tree was planted wasn’t fit for habitation due to its lush growth both above and below. Its billions of interlaced roots, each with varying heights and thicknesses, were convoluted like threads, and craters-like hollows made it difficult to retrieve a body if one fell in. There’s a reason why people built their homes on the branches. During the era of the previous World Tree, the blessed ginkgo, even settlers couldn’t reside there — only druids who tended to the tree lived. “If you go beneath it, there are numerous water veins. They’re the great torrents that draw river water up to the leaves. While they might manage the larger veins, they can’t oversee all of them.” The priests exchanged nods after glancing at one another. The Puppet Priest pulled out a cursed doll and moved its hands and feet. The ‘puppets’ moved accordingly. The corpse-puppets, controlled by dark magic, abandoned their reasoning and plunged into the water. Following the water flow generated by the World Tree, the puppet corpses were swept upwards. “Have you found it?” “We’re searching. Be patient and wait...” The water veins were the Tree of Origin’s straws dipped in the river, a torrent reaching into the sky. They sporadically split and narrowed as they traveled to various parts of the Tree of Origin. Dozens of puppet corpses veered wrongly somewhere, either drowning or being crushed. Corpse-puppets soaked in potions and magic blocked the water veins for quite an extended period, leading to numerous sanitary issues. Yet, amid this, one fortunate puppet discovered a proper path. The Puppet Priest raised the still cursed doll and shouted. “We found it. This is it.” “Lead the way. We will follow.” “Be grateful. Without me, you’d have become fertilizer for the World Tree. Now, wrap my hair around it. It will show you the way.” The priests, having completed their preparations, cast themselves towards the water vein leading towards the top. An immense pressure was necessary to pump such a significant amount of water upwards. The pressure was enough to crush a person, but the priests protected themselves with various spells and ascended the water vein. “How… much longer… is it…?” “It’s far! Save your breath!” The experience of being forced up by river water was rare even for a priest. After what felt like an eternity, which invoked fear of whether things would ever end, even in the priests’ minds, their bodies were flung into empty space. “Phewah!” “We’ve arrived!” They arrived inside the dark and dim Tree of Origin. They had no idea how high they had ascended. The Beast Priest sniffed the air, detecting scents in the emptiness. “Sniff sniff. Damp, wet wood smell... This seems to be a space within the World Tree.” YW9peUx5cktZYXhyU2hzY1VsMkQ0WVJOb0l6NzBLUUd5TVd5UldkWjhyb0MrdFJnYkNuQ0poT1h6dUJleVFYSg “The King of Humans is said to be at the World Tree’s summit. Where is the summit?” “We won’t know before going outside. I’ll use my claws to dig through the wall.” As the Beast Priest approached with sharp claws ready, the Funeral Priest halted him. “Stop! If you harm the World Tree recklessly, the Archdruid might notice!” “Then what do you propose? It’s only a matter of time before the Archdruid becomes aware of us.” “I’ll seek the souls of the deceased and hold a memorial rite. They should know the way.” “This place is the World Tree’s pinnacle. Who could have died here?” “I heard the Witch lives here. Someone must have perished! This place is filled with spiritual energy. It’s a suitable environment for lingering souls. If there are any witches who split their sanity and planted them in beasts, I can find them quickly!” The Funeral Priest pulled out pieces of fruit and meat from a pouch. Setting down these minimal offerings for the ritual, she jingled a bell to begin her ceremony. One can glean much from a corpse about how they lived. Particularly with those who wielded magic or energy; their traces often remain even post-mortem. The Funeral Priest was akin to a coroner, reading these remnants to infer the deceased’s past actions. There were no actual corpses here, but even something similar sufficed. Through her ritual, the Funeral Priest sought traces of the deceased. The intense aroma of food and the clattering sound of bells filled the space, stimulating all the senses. Amidst the pervasive energies, the presence of humanity was discerned. It wasn’t long before the Funeral Priest found traces of death... “Ugh!” ...so many traces, akin to the abundance of lush leaves. “Uwaaah! Ugh. K-Kaaaugh!” It was as if someone had upended the Funeral Priest, inside and out. She vomited everything in her stomach and then fainted in her own vomit. Startled, the Beast Priest quickly pulled her out. With her eyes rolled back, she showed no sign of getting up. “Hey! Shaman! W-what happened?” “…Look here. At this.” The Puppet Priest, with a serious expression, pointed with his finger. There, numerous petals had grown in orderly rows along the wall. On a meticulously arranged branch, as if sculpted by a careful hand, there hung large fruits. Inside these translucent fruits filled with unknown juice, one could see the silhouette of a human curled up like a baby. “…What is this?” The Puppet Priest did a quick mental count. Roughly a hundred, at a glance. If there were more, it could multiply exponentially. Gesturing and mumbling to himself, the Puppet Priest wondered aloud. “…It seems someone has cast dark magic upon the World Tree.” It was then that the tap-tap sound resonated from beyond the darkness. A faint light from a lantern seeped in from a dimly lit corridor. Footsteps announcing a presence. The Beast Priest bristled and concentrated all his senses on the owner of the footsteps, only to be dumbfounded. ‘…What? I can’t sense anything…!’ “Hah. Why are you here?” A swarm of black bats took flight. As their silent wings filled the space, a witch dressed in pitch-black robes with a pointed hat appeared before them like an illusion. Walpurgis. The Witch of the Night. The sole retainer of the Archwitch and the guardian of the floor of the powerful. Once a nightmare that plunged this jungle into deep and dark nights. The priests, faced with her, instinctively recoiled in fear. Yet, the Puppet Priest stepped forward, unfazed. “Haha. Great and formidable Witch of the Night, I have urgent matters to discuss.” “And yet, you infiltrate here through the aqueducts? Do you typically hide in someone’s storeroom to converse?” “If necessary, yes. How were we to know where the aqueducts led?” “…I’ll hear you out for now. Just know I’m being very lenient.” Walpurgis crossed her arms, exuding an air of reluctance to listen. “I’ve heard a King of Humans has emerged.” However, when the Puppet Priest brought up the main point, Walpurgis pressed her witch hat down with an exasperated expression. “You’re aware of that too? Seems there isn’t a soul in this jungle who doesn’t know.” “Those attuned to the grapevine would know. You made quite a spectacular parade of it.” “I’m dealing with issues I didn’t cause, yet the cleanup falls on me. It's really irresponsible of them.” Waiting until she finished grumbling, the Puppet Priest pointed at the meat fruit and asked. “Is this fruit intended for reviving the King of Humans?” “You could say that.” “Is the King of Humans also something you’ve created with this?” “No. The King of Humans’ body was already there. Though devoid of consciousness, we respectfully took care of it.” “Then why create these humans?” There was no need for further concealment. Walpurgis sighed and continued. “The Archdruid found me. The witch's brew can revive even those on death's doorstep or poison a healthy person overnight. There was a thought that the witch's brew might revive the King of Humans.” The priests grew curious. Many seek the witch’s brew, but those are the ones who are utterly desperate. The witch's brew, neither its efficacy nor intent is proven, remains a mystery. Only those with nothing left to lose place all their chips on the witch’s brew as a final gamble. “Of course, the Archdruid didn’t fully trust the witch's brew either. He questioned the efficacy relentlessly. But how would you know its effects without trying it? Someone has to drink it first.” And the priests recalled another past. Long ago, when the jungle was enveloped in deep, dark nights. Walpurgis sold illusions. Those who drank her brew fell asleep with blissful dreams. When they woke, it’s said they all wept. They begged for their fantasy to return. To go back to that world. Those who awoke yearned again for the night they sought Walpurgis, and Walpurgis would provide a new brew each time. Customers fell asleep with happy faces, and most never woke again. That dark period, when the jungle fell into a silent night without pain or screams, remained a haunting fear for all. People sought the Archwitch in the hopes of finding loved ones who never returned, parents who never arrived, vanished children, and partners lost to love. The Archwitch, at once, recovered the Witch of the Night, and only then did daylight return to the jungle. There was no fanfare. Just gratitude for the passing of the night and a search for those lost in it. Though some wondered how the Archwitch managed to retrieve the Witch of the Night, curiosity was always secondary to survival. No one probed into the reason…. “However, the newly grown World Tree grows all necessary ingredients. Human-like roots, mushrooms under acorn trees, iris pistils. They’re all invaluable, but the most precious test subjects for the invaluable potion must be precious above all.” At this point, Walpurgis revealed the reason. “These meat fruits are test subjects for trying out the potion meant for the King of Humans. There are many samples, few variables, and I can control the test subjects as I see fit.” “Kugh! Cough, cough!” The Funeral Priest, regaining her senses, coughed violently as she sat up. Unable to even think of wiping the vomit off her face, she cried out desperately. "H-How many have you killed here...? How many deaths have filled this space with their presence!" "I haven't exactly kept count. Is there a problem? The meat fruits used as test subjects are unrelated to you, after all." Walpurgis, shrouded in darkness, lifted the brim of her hat slightly and expressed her curiosity. "The Night’s Illusion Elixir was made to ease pain and forget suffering. They sought it out themselves, drank deeply, fell into dream-laden sleep, and then reported me to the Archwitch." A witch brews potions, yet no one can guarantee their effects—not even the witch herself. Therefore, someone must be found to drink it. Using the allure of night’s fantasies, Walpurgis tested innumerable potions until the Archwitch arrived after hearing the rumors. "The Archwitch said it was a problem when the night continued endlessly, severing ties with the daylight. She provided this place as an alternative to seeking test subjects in the jungle, on the condition that I create the potion the Archdruid requested." The Funeral Priest gazed at Walpurgis, consumed by fear and terror. Meanwhile, amidst the tension, the Puppet Priest chuckled with a shiver. "Heh heh. If you had such a resource, you should have told me. I've been a fool scouring the jungle for suitable dolls. It was worth coming up here." Walpurgis asked plainly, "Do you have any other business?" "Humans growing in fruit, the King of Humans—you can't keep such an important matter from all humanity and monopolize it. Let's aim to share." "Aren’t you considering leaving?" "Why should we? If we leave now, we gain nothing." "No." Walpurgis whispered, gently lifting her hat brim. "You might at least prolong those pitiful lives." At the same moment, bats swooped in from all directions. Screams that were inaudible to human ears filled the space. The Beast Priest lunged forward, about to rip into Walpurgis. Her form dispersed like an illusion, and thick black smoke enveloped him. The next moment, a flicker revealed Walpurgis at a distance, casually gesturing with her hand. "Sleep well within the night." Bats scattered in all directions, accompanied by shimmering particles, creating a mesmerizing and fantastical scene like ground stardust from the night sky. “H-hold your breath! Don’t inhale….” The Funeral Priest couldn’t finish her warning. The priests, entranced by the potion, collapsed with a thud. Among the soundless flutter of bats' wings, only the Puppet Priest remained standing. “You do not fall asleep, I see. Well, a puppet does not need rest, after all.” “Aha. Have you realized?” The Puppet Priest brought out a pre-prepared cursed doll. As he infused it with magic, the fallen priests staggered and rose to their feet. Their unconscious bodies turned into puppets, moved by the will of the Puppet Priest. The awakened puppets surrounded Walpurgis. “I've gained precious puppets, thanks! Night Witch, I am grateful! I shall turn you into a puppet as well!” The Beast Priest charged, the Funeral Priest swung her knife and bells. Their coordination ignored personal harm as they focused on the act. Walpurgis muttered while grasping her hat brim. “However, not all potions are meant for sleep.” Suddenly darting forward, Walpurgis embraced the Puppet Priest. His retreat was too late; her form melded into him seamlessly. “What! What have you done?” “Enjoy. Endless illusions and delight. A night never to return.” The Puppet Priest stood rigid at the voice resonating in his ears. His body didn’t respond to commands. A wave of thrill echoed through him, as if another played with him as a toy. As euphoria neared his mind, an unknown fear crept upon him. ‘This is dangerous…! I need to sever the link with my puppets!’ Typically, he used human hosts for the dolls; it maintained an unaltered transmission of sensations. This advantage, however, became a curse. The witch is both potion and poison. Hesitating in the unending ecstasy, his body and mind finally surrendered, embracing the boundless pleasure and revelry. Not just the puppets, but even the puppeteer himself. “Arrrk! Ahh, ha! Hhhhhnng!” The Puppet Priest writhed in ecstasy. Swarming sensations clouded his mind. Alone, trembling, twisting, trying to scratch an itch that eluded containment. Unable to distinguish between puppet and self, he lost the ability to draw a line. Both he and his creations became puppets of the Night Witch’s gift of ecstasy. Realizing this, the priest’s consciousness snapped. “-May you rest peacefully.” Amidst the fallen puppets, the Witch of the Night whispered serenely.