Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint - Chapter 585



584 – Miss Agartha

It’s a little-known fact, but the world of plants is far more intense, desperate, and brutal than the world of animals.

Some clusters of trees grow taller, competing with each other to capture even a little more sunlight, only to self-destruct in the process. The trees, grown desperately, are overrun and suffocated by the creeping vines that climb them like serpents. Some trees exude toxins around them, while certain grasses endure the poison and claim the vacant territory.

Even plants, which may seem still and peaceful at first glance, wage war every moment to seize even a sliver of sunlight.

This war also occurs within a single tree. The branches that grow below are ultimately overshadowed by the lush leaves above, unable to sprout new shoots. Unable to extend further due to a lack of sunlight, they leave behind only small twigs before disappearing.

The lower parts are eliminated, while the upper parts thrive. Thus, the tree grows into the shape we recognize. Since the World Tree is also a tree, it should abide by such rules, yet—

The root tree, before being a tree, is a deity. It transcended the ordinary benefits of a tree.

Countless twigs stretch out like a net. There are no leaves. There’s no need for them since the sun hasn’t even risen.

Instead, fields grow in place of leaves. Seedbeds hang at the tips of branches, where various crops are sprouting. People holding baskets tread carefully one step at a time atop those branches, harvesting the ripened crops from the seedbeds.

Looking at the seedbeds grown on branches at different heights, it felt like observing terraced fields. The problem was that the gaps between the steps were several meters. Nonetheless, a crowd of a size that could clearly be called a “village” was visible.

Having four wings was rewarding. Embracing the Regressor, I glided down to the ground while slowing my speed sufficiently. The wings, having completed their task, withered and fell away in an instant.

“…You’re late.”

The Great Witch, waiting below with a sulky expression, greeted us. I carefully set down the Regressor and spoke.

“For a first time, I arrived pretty quickly, don’t you think? Besides, I wasn’t alone.”

“…Anyway, you’re late.”

“It’s not like anyone’s waiting, so what’s late?”

As I was about to brush it off, I noticed a crowd approaching near the landing point. People on the branches climbed ladders and swung on ropes like swarms of ants, gathering around us.

It would be remarkable to see someone descending with wings. However, their reaction was overly enthusiastic.

“It’s the Witch!”

“The Witch!”

The people who drew near erupted in thunderous cheers. At least they had the courtesy not to climb onto the branches we were standing on, but the fervent gazes and shouts felt like watching a performance.

It felt strangely good to be welcomed so warmly, even upon first meeting. I waved back at them as well.

“Hello! Thank you so much for your warm welcome!”

“What’s that? You, get lost!”

“Not even a witch!”

How rude. Should I awaken as the king of sins?

‘Ugh, there are too many people. I rushed down and forgot to change my expression with the Agartha mask… I should have been erasing my presence.’

The very “witch” they were welcoming was suffering from extreme social anxiety, looking pale and frail. The great witch fidgeted with her face, trying to hold it together, but eventually came up behind me, gagging.

Her social anxiety worsened in the crowd. Well, one is better than dozens. Is this a chance to get a bit closer…?

“Yes, you handle it….”

The great witch pushed me forward and hid behind the back of the returnee to avoid the approaching people. Regardless, they began to close in.

“You’re the witch who came from the leaf cloud, right?”

“Ah, yes. That’s right.”

“We asked the witch?”

“The witch entrusted that answer to me. As her representative, this is all I can say. Get lost, you jerk.”

Do I look that easy to mess with? The townsfolk got excited by my words and rushed at me.

“Not even a witch!”

“You’re no different!”

I tilted my head slightly to dodge the townsfolk’s attack, then grabbed one by the face and slammed them into the ground. The resident, who hit the ground headfirst, trembled without a sound.

What can a mere citizen say to me, not even a great witch or a neophyte? Do they think I’m going to bow down to everyone?

The most instinctive form of body language is violence. A few calmer people whispered among themselves as they looked at me. I turned to the fallen person and asked,

“By the way, why are you looking for the witch?”

“Um… I’d like to request something from the witch…”

“A request? What kind of request?”

“A potion for hair growth…”

“Wow. You can make such a potion? Witches are more impressive than I thought.”

As one person spoke up, others began to chime in eagerly.

“The village has been attacked by a leopard! We need a deadly poison to kill it!”

“I’ve come to collect dandelions from the mine. When will the witches arrive?”

“Mushrooms are growing on my father’s body, and he’s dying! We need medicine!”

People shook metal scraps or alchemical coins in their hands. I, who couldn’t intuitively grasp the situation, looked towards the great witch.

“…The Tree of Origins grows all sorts of materials, but it lacks minerals and metals… So we take those in exchange for potions and such…”

“Oh, a barter system? I suppose mining would be difficult for a witch.”

So they’re saying they’ll receive minerals in exchange for fulfilling requests? It seems there’s quite a lot built up over time. These requests are beyond what I can handle.

However, if I say I can’t help right now, I don’t know how this crowd might react. Those who are desperate tend to become radical.

“Alright, shouting here won’t help me remember everything. Instead, please organize your requests and give them to me. I’ll pass them on to the one up there.”

“You’ll pass them on? To which witch?”

“That’s for the witch to decide. Each witch has their own area of expertise. Wouldn’t it be easier to gather everything at once rather than comparing each one?”

I don’t know if the witch will accept all these requests. I’m not particularly interested either. But these people will likely be satisfied just to have it written down and wait.

“Wait, wait. But don’t try to write it on my body. Is there no village chief or tribal leader here? Someone or a group to represent you all?”

“Chief…?

“This isn’t just one tribe, so there’s no such thing.”

“There’s one thing that can be called a representative….”

The gazes of the people turned to one place. Among the countless branches extending from the tree of origin, the one most touched by human hands. It was a branch adorned with golden ears instead of leaves.

“The rice paddy branch.”

The residents of the World Tree’s shade live upon the branches. No matter how grand the World Tree is, and how large the branches are to support life above, a branch is still just a branch. There is no concept of flat ground on the slanted branches. The stairs made from planks that humans fitted together were the only brief flatness they could enjoy.

“A village full of stairs. The quality of life must be the worst.”

As I grumbled while walking up the stairs, the reincarnator spoke as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him.

“You know, it seems you have a subtle interest in how people live.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s like you observe the lives of the people wherever you go. Is that why? The king of humans?”

“I’ve never really been conscious of it.”

Do I want to observe humans? It’s just that they catch my eye as I walk around; what can I do about it?

“Really?”

The reincarnator brushed it off and began to look around.

“By the way, what happened to that witch from earlier? Where did she suddenly go?”

“Wasn’t she next to Shea?”

“I don’t know. She hid behind me and then disappeared at some point.”

‘I usually don’t miss a presence. Has my senses dulled because I’m injured?’

No, I didn’t miss it. She’s right behind me.

She’s following me, hiding her presence with Agartha’s mask. She’s blended into the crowd, and no one pays her any mind. Without her witch’s hat, she quietly trails behind, and the people are unaware of her presence.

‘…No one recognizes me. This is actually comfortable. Agartha’s mask… it’s nice.’

The masks of Agartha come in three forms: Truth (眞), Goodness (善), and Beauty (美).

Truth (眞) distorts perception.

Typically, when one sees a face, they can roughly guess the gender or age, but the mask of Agartha determines “how I am perceived.” Even a face reminiscent of a returner can be recognized as male if adorned with this mask.

Goodness (善) shapes impressions.

No matter how large a creature may be, few feel threatened by the face of a smiling dog. However, they exhibit fear when confronted with a leopard or wolf of similar size. The second mask of Agartha influences the wariness one feels from a face.

Beauty (美) reveals allure.

Charm, presence, charisma that captivates the gaze, and seduction that entices the mind. It unveils a presence that seems to radiate light from the face while simultaneously concealing it.

At that moment, the great witch wore all three masks simultaneously to evade attention. She minimized her presence as much as possible, blending into the crowd without drawing anyone’s gaze. Disguised as an ordinary girl, she slipped among the people.

‘This is my ancestor’s mask… no, it is the very face of Agartha itself. A king’s power effective even on beasts, not just humans.’

The ability to recognize faces is not exclusive to humans. Though the effect may be considerably diminished.

Though the great witch treated it lightly, Agartha, once one of the five sovereigns, unified the jungle with that power. Sometimes through beauty, sometimes through awe, and at times through the strength of civilization, she subdued the primitive tribes and brought them under her order. She even tamed the greatest threat of the jungle, the beasts.

Compared to the capabilities of the Grandioramor royal family, which merely influences human sociality, this power seems almost like an upgraded version. Ironically, the lesser version, the abilities of Grandioramor, has endured far longer.

‘…After searching this jungle for hundreds of years, I never expected it would come to me on its own. I never thought it would be in the elephant graveyard… but that place is deadly. I suppose the saint could see through the elephant graveyard as well.’

The great witch fell deeper into thought, recalling the words of the returner.

‘Oh, but… if I obtained the mask from the elephant graveyard, how did I get to the elephant graveyard?’

“We’ve arrived! This is the rice paddy! If you go over there… huh? But where’s the witch?”

Only then did the people start looking around, searching for the great witch. Despite being right in their midst, they failed to notice her.

‘Ah, I’m so glad I have the mask…’

As she inwardly sighed in relief, the crowd passed by and spotted the returner. Even though the returner had once appeared as a handsome man with the mask, now, without it and with slightly longer hair, he could not be perceived as male in any way. The people pointed at the returner and said,

“Hey, this person looks like a witch too, doesn’t she?”

“Fool. There’s no witch hat.”

“But the outfit is so unique! You’ve tied your arms. How strong must you be to seal your own hands? You must be an amazing witch!”

The regressor glanced at me with an expression of annoyance, having heard the banter.

“…You explain.”

“Ugh, both of you are so bothersome. Why do you find it hard to talk to people?”

This world is wrong. Whether regressors or great witches, their abilities far exceed their social skills. Something needs to be done about that.

“Don’t worry. The witch is currently watching over you with her magic.”

“Really? She hasn’t run away, has she?”

“What would a witch be afraid of to run away? She could turn you all into frogs if she wanted to.”

“Still….”

“You’re getting a bit cheeky. Witch! Please turn just one of them into a frog as an example!”

“Ah! No, please! I’m sorry!”

People here treat witches casually. After all, even a witch isn’t a mystical being in this jungle teeming with all sorts of spells and mysteries.

‘Frog soup? Hmm… If all humans turned into frogs, that might be fine…’

“I’m so sorry. Please forgive me generously!”

‘Tsk….’

I almost really did it. It’s hard to joke around with someone who can actually make the joke come true.

Though people seemed skeptical of my words, there was nothing they could do. The crowd around us moved toward a building that looked like a pavilion set amidst rice stalks.

With no ground to establish a foundation, the planks had to be laid horizontally on the poles above the branches. Maybe that’s why all the buildings resembled pavilions. Especially at points where the branches split, large pavilions were constructed to support the two branches.

Nestled among huge branches that felt distant, adorned with flowing vines and thick leaves, the pavilions were beautiful, like a scene from a painting. Of course, like all works of art, walking through the actual landscape was exhausting to the point of near death.

People were all out of breath as they walked up the path to the largest pavilion, pausing to catch their breath. A moment of silence passed. No one gathered here seemed willing to proceed to the pavilion, hesitating instead.

Then someone spoke to me first.

“Hey, the representative of the witch.”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry, but could you please go ahead?”

“What? I’m new here and I don’t know anyone here.”

“You came from the leaf cloud above. Those guys are strong and fierce, but they still show respect to someone from the leaf cloud.”

Leaf cloud? Looking up at the tree at the source, I saw lush green leaves blocking the sky like storm clouds. It seemed that the people below called it the leaf cloud.

So, that’s how they refer to those who come from the layer of the exalted. Well, for them, people like Nebidana or the great witch must seem truly special, as if they came down from the clouds.

“And… we are a bit scared of those from beyond the grasslands. They come from the same place as the Lady of the Dead.”

And the people in this pavilion were also “special” in the eyes of the people of the world. I asked again.

“What? The people here are from beyond the grasslands?”

It seemed like a good time to gossip, as people chimed in.

“Ah, yes. That’s right. An outsider entered the pavilion in the village of rice paddies.”

“Small in stature but incredibly strong.”

“They act like they’re the village chief or something! They haven’t even come from the leaf cloud!”

It seemed they had a lot to say. Yet, seeing their reluctance to step forward, I wondered if they were quite scared.

If they don’t want to, then so be it. I can open the door myself. Why not?

“They always boast about being the pinnacle of creation. Just showing off!”

…Huh?

I paused in front of the pavilion. The apex of all beings, it was a phrase that felt oddly familiar.

As I opened the door, feeling a strange sense of dissonance,

“Woof-. Sorry, but the owner of this place is currently away-.”

From noble mtl dot com

A voice that sounded like a beast flirting came from inside. A dog-human in a sleek black suit was sitting on the desk, welcoming me.