Atop a Tree That Reaches the Clouds (6)

For two weeks, I continued walking along the highway, stopping at villages along the way to seek lodging but never staying more than a night.

I had reached the vicinity of Outo, the capital of Fusang.

Come to think of it, the oni also call the northern region where they live Fusang, which makes things confusing, but I had reached the capital of the human-controlled Fusang.

Chinju, the frontline, was still more than a week's walk away, but from somewhere with a good view, I could already make out, faintly in the distance, the giant tree stretching toward the heavens—the Fusang Tree.

"A mountain... maybe?"

Even at a distance—or perhaps precisely because of the distance—the bizarre scale was all the more apparent, and I couldn't help tilting my head.

Large mountains could reach the clouds, but the tip of the Fusang Tree pierced them effortlessly as well.

No plant could possibly grow to such a size.

Its size alone made me understand why people said it had been planted by the True Giant.

Its height was extraordinary, of course, but so was the thickness needed to support it.

From what I'd heard, water spilled out from around the middle of the Fusang Tree, and a great lake had formed near its roots.

Water flowed north and south from that lake, coursing across the island.

The Fusang Tree was not merely a massive symbol; it was the vital source that nourished Fusang.

Could it be that the giant tree drew water from the clouds—or from the upper atmosphere—and existed to send it flowing into Fusang?

It was clearly a species akin to spirit trees and immortal trees, but I found it rather fascinating.

All sorts of questions came to mind, but... I might as well ask it directly.

No matter how enormous it was, the Fusang Tree was still a plant, and if so, it ought to answer my questions.

If the Fusang Tree had watched over this island nation all this time, there was at least a chance it knew the True Giant's intentions as well.

But I would have to wait a little longer for that.

Seeing something like that made me want to head straight toward it, but first I would enter Outo.

There were plenty of things I wanted to see even in the heart of Fusang.

When I looked up, I saw several winged figures soaring through the sky.

Yes, winged folk.

Clad in garments like those of mountain ascetics, they flew through the sky, evoking images of tengu.

The winged folk who lived in the eastern town of Tengaku were a valiant race, and their strength played a major role in holding back the oni in the central region.

In particular, the winged folk's tactic of forming up in the sky, diving sharply, and throwing short spears was devastatingly powerful, and had reportedly repelled the oni armies time and again.

It was also thanks to their ability to travel swiftly between Chinju and Outo that the rear areas, once informed of the frontline situation, could provide appropriate support.

Without the winged folk, the war would have ended in humanity's defeat long ago.

I had crossed the eastern half of the continent and met several races, but even setting the oni aside, the nonhuman races living in Fusang were exceptionally distinctive.

There were merfolk who made the sea their home, and winged folk who lived on land yet could fly.

It was fascinating that races with entirely different spheres of activity respected one another's domains without encroaching on them, yet recognized one another as kin and acted as a single power.

Of course, they had probably only been able to unite because they shared a common enemy in the oni.

But becoming a single power rather than ending with a mere alliance must have required major events to set things in motion, along with countless considerations and innovations to preserve their ties.

I wanted to investigate those rules of mutual respect and that history in Outo, where the three races came together.

For example, Outo had broad waterways running in from the sea so that merfolk could enter the city.

The inns and important facilities in Outo had entrances on their top floors that allowed people to come and go by air.

Rice brought to Outo from the south was transported not only to Chinju but to Tengaku as well.

When humans put ships out to sea in the west, they followed unique rules designed with the merfolk in mind... and so on.

The currency in this country, too, consisted of gold, silver, and copper cast into small rods.

I'd never seen currency of that shape in any other country, so I assumed it had been cast that way for the convenience of the winged folk or merfolk.

I still didn't know the precise reason, but if I looked around Outo, I was sure to find many innovations not seen elsewhere.

Though I could notice this country's differences from others by carefully looking around town, learning its history wouldn't be so easy.

For a rough overview, I could probably find someone suitable in a tavern, buy them a drink, and get them talking freely.

But that alone would not be enough for what I wanted.

For the three races to join hands, there must have been circumstances that made it unavoidable, a catalyst, and a great deal of trial and error.

Success came after failures had piled up, and each failure had its own cause.

That was why I wanted to know not only the result—their success—but also the attempts that had failed, so I could understand how it all came about.

I had acquaintances among many races, and my stepchild was half-elven and half-human.

I was naturally interested in harmony between different races.

Obviously, even I wasn't naive enough to think that something that had worked in this country would work unchanged elsewhere.

But knowing what had made a successful example work would probably prove useful somewhere, someday.

If I continued living the way I did.

Even if that meant reaching the conclusion that a powerful enemy was indispensable for different races to join hands—one I could do nothing to change.