Her mantle determined that the food was some sort of attack against the user and launched a counter.
“Yeah. Don’t eat anything, okay, Datil?”
“I know... Hey! You! Don’t eat that!” Datil said, hitting Gruszka’s hand. The chunk of meat he’d been holding fell back to the plate.
“Ow! Wh-What’s your problem?”
“Were you not paying attention?! Fresa’s mantle zapped some of the food! This stuff has something dangerous in it!”
Gruszka suddenly went pale and shrieked. “D-Do you mean it’s poisoned?!”
“Hmmm. If so, I think that lightning bolt would’ve been waaaaaay bigger,” Fresa said.
She’s right. That bolt was much smaller compared to the time she almost had her head lopped off.
Okhar had a big smile on his face as he grabbed the meat that Gruszka dropped moments earlier, and stuffed his cheeks happily. “Come, everyone! No need to hold back! Eat as much as you like!”
It’s probably not poisoned, and I also don’t feel any ill will coming from Okhar and the other villagers. But it’s clear that some kind of malicious intent is mixed in.
“It doesn’t seem poisonous, but if you two insist, I won’t eat anything. I’m not that brave,” Gruszka said. He calmly proceeded to pretend to eat. Like a magician, he used sleight of hand to hide the food elsewhere, or put it back onto the plate as he acted like he took a bite.
That’s the chief of the bandits for you.
“Wow, he’s really good,” Fresa said.
“He did undo the knots that I tied behind his back pretty easily,” Datil said.
The other two were less like magicians, and more like rakugoka, Japanese storytellers. With their usual acting skills, they pretended to shovel invisible food into their mouths and chewed with delight. You guys are pretty good at this too.
“Yeah, it really looks like they’re eating! Amazing!” Grida paused. “Huh?”
Hm? What’s wrong, Grida?
“Furutsu, there’s a really long thread attached to these people’s heads. It’s coming from the sky. Can you see it?”
Huh? Thread? No, I don’t think—wait, now that you mention it, I see it really faintly. What is this?
“And it’s also above Fresa and the others.”
I see it now! It’s dangling about fifty centimeters above their heads, and moving in tandem with them too. That’s kinda creepy. Whoa! Look over there! The string is actually stuck to Gruszka’s head, just like how it is to the villagers!
“Huh?! Really? I’m sorry, I didn’t notice that!”
No need for you to apologize. I’m not accusing you of anything. Anyways, what do you think that is?
“Hmmm. I don’t know, but I don’t think it’s very good.”
Agreed. I have a bad feeling about this. I don’t really care about Gruszka, but I’m a little worried about Fresa and Datil.
“Look! It’s the Great Gaokerena! The Great Gaokerena is here!” a villager cried from the crowd. Immediately, everyone started to chant, “The Great Gaokerena!” at an amazing volume. It was hard to believe that there were only around a hundred or so people here.
This is less like a concert, and more like the kind of worshipping you’d hear at a shrine or temple. It’s loud, but in an orderly fashion—as though everyone is loudly reciting a sutra or praying, clinging to their precious god.
“Datil, look!”
“Yeah, seems like they’re finally going to make an appearance.”
An extremely large tree started to descend from high above. Its trunk was as large as a tower, and its leaves seemed to cover the sky. As it got closer to the ground, its roots started to blur and were difficult to see clearly.
“This must be what that lackey of Gruszka’s saw!”
I’m pretty sure this tree must be Gaokerena.
“Oh, our dear God!”
“Great Gaokerena! Please choose me for your sustenance!”
The villagers’ bloodshot eyes were aimed toward the sky, as they all begged to be chosen as the sacrifice. They can’t be normal. Mob mentality? Brainwashing? I’ve heard that human minds can be manipulated rather easily in all sorts of ways, but...
“Please! Please eat me and my family!”
Why do these people treat Gaokerena as a god, willing to sacrifice even their own children? I don’t understand. Is it because of their food? Or is it something else?
“Furutsu, look! The string!” Grida cried.
Will you look at that... The threads were connected to the villagers’ heads and all led back to that tree. Is it using those to manipulate everyone?
“Oh? I was wondering why my path would not connect, but I never imagined there would be guests. Is that the Fruit of Knowledge? How interesting,” said a booming voice.
It was so impressive and intense that it echoed in our stomachs. I’m not sure where the stomach would be in an apple though.
“Though perhaps not as impossible as I initially thought. You have committed a sin in the past and fallen to the depths below, but you are the descendant of a ruler, after all. Hm... Then it is not unusual that you could create your paths as well.”
Damn, I have no idea what it’s saying. What the heck does it mean by a “path”?
“Oh, so you do not? And yet you created these paths without any knowledge? How very interesting indeed.”
You’re talking to me?!
“Would I be conversing with another? Fruit of Knowledge, I ask you: just what are you? How are you able to maintain that Tree Spirit?”
I have no idea what you’re asking.
“I see. I have no inkling of how you have managed it, but you most certainly have a Tree Spirit, though you have fallen to the depths. A most unfortunate state of affairs.”
Huh?
“You must be eliminated. Only rulers are permitted to possess Tree Spirits.”