[MA] 107. World Tree (Patreon)

Previous Chapter — Table of Contents — Next Chapter 

A voice pierced the absolute silence of the Void. The fools feared the Void, but the wise had learned to harness its power.

"Our tool is dead," the young female voice said. "We'll need to pay the Starseizing Tower for predictions now. They are not as good. We'll have to pull back on many fronts and expand much slower."

An ancient old voice replied, "That is the least of our worries. The Void Research Institute is blackmailing us. If we don't protect them, they will tell everyone how and why we deliberately made the Dreamer cull some races."

An androgynous voice snorted. "Make those in our payroll in the Institute blame innocents first. That way, the truth will look just like another attempt to incriminate us. I didn't come to discuss petty details. We were attacked.

"The Primordials and their Bridge are beyond our retaliation unless we show our hand, but whoever broke our information blockade and let everyone know about the Void experiment is not.

"Stop all expansion and attacking plans. Focus on defense and on finding out who the new player is. They need to die."

The voice's presence disappeared, and the other two followed.

= - = - =

The Immortal Emperor seemed to be just one of the many B-ranks living in the strange mystical realm close to Earth. He had taken the name Carl Jones, and none of his people remembered him.

All seven hundred B-ranks belonging to the multiple races found in the Eternal Empire were currently in space, hearing a representative of the Cultivators' Association's spout nonsense. The representative looked like a giant butterfly with wings made of moving rainbows.

"...therefore," the butterfly concluded, "we got exclusive rights to any qi-heavy area found. Your realm is one of such. You'll be paid the finder's fee, but you must leave."

The B-ranks naturally got agitated at the declaration, but Carl wasn't paying attention. He felt a faint echo of three A-ranks seeking to do him harm, and it surprisingly came not from Reality, but from the Void. After taking a while to follow the strings of karma to their origins and making sure he was safe for now, he focused on the gathering.

He raised his hand to speak, as the butterfly had told them to do. After other people's questions, it was his turn, "I invoke the Right of Hazardous Property." Carl had prepared a lot for the coming of the Multiverse Alliance and its Cultivators' Association. He knew their rules better than most of their people.

The butterfly shook its head. "I don't know how you heard about that piece of law, but it only applies to fringe zones."

"And what exactly are fringe zones?" he asked.

"Places where the Void has invaded—" It stopped when it realized what was going on. "Oh, no."

"Yes," Carl said victoriously. "The Void has invaded the Milky Way twice in recent times, during the Pioneer Tutorial. Our mystical realm is in the Milky Way. Therefore, our realm belongs to us and no one else. The Cultivators' Association is welcome to negotiate an embassy here, but this is our property. If you want to take it from us, declare legit war first, as dictated by the Orthodox Axioms."

"This is a terrible mistake," the butterfly warned, and Carl was surprised to feel legit empathy coming from it. So it didn't belong to one of the great clans or sects that ruled the Association, but rather the smaller ones that suffered under their iron fist. "You don't have enough power to defend yourselves. No one does."

"We'll see about that," Carl said, and all B-ranks agreed.

His people didn't recall his identity; he had made sure of that. However, the culture he had pushed his people toward for so long had been deeply ingrained in them.

The Eternal Empire—or rather, the United Republic of Imperia that his people recalled—fought for itself or died trying.

There was no in-between.

= - = - =

The Primordial Bridge headquarters was a bridge bigger than some moons floating on the edge of the Primordial Galaxy. It was made of sandy rock and reddish metal, and there were no rooms or private environments there.

All 9 generals, 999 officers, 99,999 regulars, and 9,999,999 contenders were present today, organized in rank and file to honor the Primordial visiting them. The Bridge's leader was sitting by a simple wooden table. Their esteemed guest sat on the other side.

The leader was a gnome that many would call cute. He was chubby, had pink cheeks, a potato nose, and short spiky black hair. His eyes were green, and his clothes were made of colored fabric. His chair was more elevated than usual to let him reach the table.

Yornolar, wearing the usual combat suit of Deephase Nanocrystals, sat on the other size. He was five times the gnome's height.

"Why did you ask me to let the Dreamer die after insisting we take them in?" the gnome asked with a thin yet clearly male voice. "I was watching when the Void invaded the Pioneer Tutorial's galaxy, and you told the Primordial Maiden to not wake the octopus because it was about to succeed or fail in reaching A-rank."

"The Primordial Maiden had to learn not to let the Void invade a galaxy next to the Primordial Galaxy," Yornolar replied, his voice old and tired. "She would rather have that strategical position fall due to pride. Yet the fact remains that the Dreamer chose to sleep rather than protect a galaxy right next to the Primordial Galaxy. That is a crime punishable only by death."

This was a rare opportunity to show his soldiers how the Primordials thought and acted, and the leader made sure to erect no sound barrier for privacy. No one dared to even breathe loudly either, so the two voices traveled far. Even the weakest, furthest C-rank contenders would hear the conversation if they tried hard enough.

"You used to be more forgiving," the leader commented. "But that doesn't explain why you wouldn't act directly or order us to do so in your stead. Or even the reason you want the Bridge weakened with this play of taking the Dreamer in for favors and then looking like we were pressured to let them die. We don't do politics. That's part of our strength."

"I do it for the future of your Alliance," the Primordial replied. "I'm about to Rise, yet the Alliance hasn't prepared a farewell ceremony. Many Rising Stars before me were also not honored. They forgot our might, and time for the Song of Remembrance is approaching. The more chaotic things become, the worse the Song will be for them, yet the longer it will be remembered."

"Ah, Primordials' love," the gnome said and chuckled. It was a dry, humorless chuckle. He knew very well the terror of what they called the Song of Remembrance.

He was thankful for the Primordial Rising Star's straightforwardness, at least. It showcased perfectly who the Primordials were. They cared little for the Alliance. In their mind, it was the Alliance's privilege to use the devices and magic formations that produced mana, and it was to be paid with fear and obedience. Anything less, and they took upon themselves the task of "educating" the lesser races.

The worst part was that they could not be resisted or stopped. The Primordials had the strength to back their tyranny, and only their lack of expansionist desires let the Alliance be self-governed.

"You, on the other hand, have honored me enough," the Primordial said. "You can have your people return to their duties if you want. I'm just waiting for the Maiden to return before I depart." He looked at the distance, through time and space, and the gnome leader knew the being was staring at the Primordial Maiden, who was on the neighbor galaxy. "I admit I'm glad she chose to pursue the truth in such an overwhelmingly stupid manner. It might mollify her heart. I found greater pleasure in treating the Alliance as pitiful dogs rather than the unruly insects she sees."

The arrogance was the most challenging part of dealing with the Primordials. Then again, was it arrogance when they were, for all purposes, gods when compared to every Alliance denizen? Only S-ranks could fight their Voices to a standstill, but while the Alliance's S-ranks were few, the Primordials had at least dozens of Voices that the gnome had personally seen.

As for the Maiden's stupid choice, the Bridge's leader was also glad for that. At the very least, it would make the Primordial Rising Star take longer to "Rise." Or, in other words, die. The Maiden would take his job once he was gone, and she wasn't exactly easy to work with. It would be for everyone's benefit if things went the way the Rising Star predicted and she indeed changed her perspective on the Alliance.

As for telling the Primordial Bridge members to go back to their jobs, that would be lunacy. Whenever a Primordial visited, they were all expected to remain there unless officially ordered otherwise. The Rising Star had merely suggested they leave, so they would stay even if the visit took all eternity and they all died of old age.

The Alliance at large might have forgotten the ire of the Primordials, but the Bridge remembered.

= - = - =

Sharendil arrived at Earth with the Alliance none the wiser.

No Alliance detection system could spot the Deephase Nanocrystalsher armor was made of. Yet, as she descended upon one of humanity's largest cities, she took her armor off, revealing a fake human appearance.

The Guardian System immediately recognized her. Despite her appearance, she wasn't hiding her true nature.

| Welcome back, Primordial Maiden!

| Please, state your desired identity!

The Alliance was quick to forget the respect they owed the Primordials, but the System Admin was one of the few who knew better. The Guardian System would basically let her do anything she wanted, as was only proper.

Her superior, on the other hand, wouldn't let her as much as kill a single mortal without his permission. The moment she did, the Primordial Rising Star would know, and she would be punished for it.

So, in a way, it was unwise to surround herself with pathetic, weak beings. It would be a great exercise of patience to withstand their arrogance.

On the other hand, it would let her get close to the ant in the middle of everything. She had been tasked with finding out what was going on with this planet, and what better way to do so than getting close to the Void-touched that had been contacted by a hidden C-rank on the Pioneer Tutorial?

"Give me peak E-rank classification and limit my power such," she ordered the system.

The system obeyed at once, and enormous amounts of resources were used to limit her power. She could theoretically do that herself, but it would be harder to control her power if she got angry. This way, while she could break the limiters if she really wanted, she would at least have to make a harder effort and conscious decision.

"Also, give me some human name that fits this region," she commanded, her feet finally touching the rooftop of a grotesque, tall concrete building.

She started walking towards the stairs as she thought about her target and how to get his trust.

Sharendil gave herself a hard deadline: until the Alliance came to this planet, in one local year.

If the boy didn't tell her what she wanted to know until then, she would use her one-time Maiden Prerogative to ignore Yornolar's orders and get to the bottom of things in her own way.

One way or another, Feng Shen would talk.

= - = - =

Bululu was traveling through space and barked happily when he finally saw an enormous tree in the distance. It had a golden trunk and green leaves brimming with Life. Each leaf was a large continent, and countless lives made them their home.

"See that! See that!" Bululu said excitedly, wiggling his tail. "See! The World Tree! We arrived! Look at all the possibilities! Freedom at last! Bladder freedom for us all!"

His offspring, a litter of five divine hounds with pelts as white as his, barked happily in return.

He kept pushing them toward their destination. It hadn't been easy to make that trip, but it had been worth it in the end.

Two colossi made of golden, radiant metal came from the World Tree to intercept the dogs' approach. The metal giants wielded scimitars, and their eyes were made of storms.

"Halt!" they demanded, their voices like the rumbling of volcanoes. Reality trembled. They weren't quite A-ranks yet, but they were close. "State your business!"

"Asylum!" Bululu said happily. "Freedom from the Alliance's madness!" He had similar power to the colossi and wiggled his tail so violently that it also threatened to destroy Reality in that space.

"Very well," a colossus said. "Our only rule is simple: no politics. Choose a leaf, travel through them, do whatever you want. But if the Gardener smells more politics than the necessary to keep a small city functioning, he'll cull you like a pest. This is his World Tree, seeded and grown through his efforts. It's a privilege to live here, not a right. If you don't like that rule, leave."

"There are other internal laws," the other colossus added. "But they are enforced by the local populace, not the Gardener. He's tired of the corruption of Alliance politics and created this place to be free of that. That is all he cares about unless you join the Gardening Sect, but you don't see the kind who likes trees."

"I love peeing on them!" Bululu said excitedly.

He was going to pee everywhere because no matter which continent he chose, he would be in a tree! His pups barked as excitedly as him. This was a true paradise for them all!

The colossi looked at each other and shook their heads. "Go ahead," one of them said. "Welcome to a small zone of sanity in the middle of Alliance madness."

"Thank you!" the divine hound said and resumed his journey with his puppies.

To the Great Toilet!

[A/N: And with that, we finish the Tutorial Arc! \o/

I wanted to end it on a positive note rather than all this backstabbing politics, and I'm glad I did. I think Bululu did a great job of closing this Arc for us.

See you tomorrow with the start of Earth's Arc!]

Previous Chapter — Table of Contents — Next Chapter