I immediately tested what the Bifurcation skill could do.
As I’d suspected, however, it seems I can’t actually create a second copy of myself. My structure as a monster is probably too complex to duplicate.
(Bifurcation isn’t making more of me… it’s more like dividing my consciousness?)
What this ability does is let me share my awareness with pieces I’ve separated from myself, or with plants I’ve produced through Diversification. I can also control how much awareness I share — anywhere from a level where I can clearly perceive everything around the piece, down to the faintest level where only a vague sense of being touched filters back to my main body. Any degree is possible.
For plants that can move, I should be able to control their movements freely as well. This skill feels like it could effectively give me extra hands and eyes once I spend more time experimenting with what it’s capable of.
(Something I’d like to try… if I produced more mobile Mandrakes, could they serve as my eyes?)
I’m not about to grow Mandrakes here and now when they’d risk killing people — but even if I can’t reproduce my full self, I’m curious whether I could create a Bifurcation-Mandrake and use it like a remote camera.
I’ll experiment with that slowly, without causing trouble for anyone. For now the fence reinforcement is done, and I’ve lightly extended my awareness into the vines — so if anything gets caught, I’ll know.
(Plants I’ve grown can always be moved as my hands and feet — it’s a convenient skill. Anyway, the animal problem is handled, time to head back to the village.)
Heading back in, I find Daon, Noel, and Ellie in a plaza-like space at the center of the village. Noel spots me first and comes running over immediately, with Ellie following right behind.
“Ma’am Witch, welcome back!”
“Ma’am Witch! There are so many flowers all over the village now, they’re so pretty!”
They’re both standing side by side looking up at me, so I ruffle each of their heads. …In terms of size they’re about the same as goblins, but human children are harmless and sweet. Goblins are so infuriating by comparison.
“Ma’am Witch, those flowers growing along the fence… they’re beautiful but they have thorns, don’t they. Not on the inside — the village side — but loads on the outside.”
(That’s right. Don’t touch them, you’ll get hurt.)
“Understood, we’ll stay away from them. For protection against animals, then.”
I’d made an X with my fingers to convey “don’t touch,” and Noel nodded and said exactly that. He really does catch on so fast, I’m grateful. Ellie watched him with a puzzled look and tilted her head.
“Noel, how do you know what ma’am Witch is trying to say?”
“If you watch ma’am Witch carefully, you can tell. She’s very kind and clever, and she’s always doing things for someone else — so you just predict from there and it’s not hard.”
That’s… a bit of a significant misunderstanding, I think. What exactly is Noel’s picture of the “Flower Witch” in his head? There’s quite a gap between who I think I am and who Noel thinks I am.
He interprets everything I do as charitably as possible, which is convenient for me — but it does leave me feeling a little guilty, like I’m deceiving him.
(I’m sorry… you think I’m so great, but I’m just a Mandrake on the inside…)
The least I can do is try to be a good Mandrake who is genuinely useful to people. Please forgive me for that much. …Useful in ways other than as a medicine ingredient, obviously. Getting dried out or boiled is not something I’m willing to endure.
“Ma’am Witch, you live at the watermill, right? Can I come visit?”
(Come visit… of course. And having children come visit would help build the image of a kind witch, naturally.)
I nodded and thought it over. Making it a fun place for children might be a good idea. What about making a vine swing? If I decorated it with pretty flowers, Ellie might come back again and again.
(I should also grow some snackable vegetables and fruit… ideally there’d be meat too, but…)
Noel is at a growing age and needs plenty of protein. But I can only produce plants — meat is another matter entirely —
(Well, not entirely impossible… there are plant-type monsters that grow meat…)
If a plant-type monster, I can absorb and then reproduce it through Diversification. A plant monster called a Barometz produces enormous fruits, and inside each fruit is a lamb. Like the peach in Momotaro — split it open and a lamb comes out.
(But I found one that was growing things other than lambs. Deer… and goblins…)
The description says lambs, but the status display is written from a very human perspective. Which means the Barometz humans know about and the real Barometz are somewhat different.
It seems what actually happens is that the Barometz absorbs the first herbivore that tries to harvest it, then reconstructs that creature as the fruit.
And then: it lures carnivorous monsters with this meat-fruit, gets eaten, and has its seeds carried to new territory that way — expanding its range through the digestive systems of predators. …Honestly, I don’t think I can feed this to humans. Why do plants have such terrifying ecological strategies? They’re far more ruthless than I am.
“If you’re going to come visit a witch’s home, you should bring something.”
“I know! Mom said to bring eggs!”
“…Fine, then.”
Noel seems somewhat put out that Ellie is coming to visit. I think it over and remember — he’s a beastkin who faces discrimination. Ellie, being a child, doesn’t seem to notice or care about the species difference. But he’s probably afraid she’ll end up disliking him.
You don’t need to be so scared, I thought, and patted both their heads.
(I hope the two of them can get along well. …If Noel and Ellie grow up together, she might become an adult who doesn’t discriminate against beastkin.)
Both of them smile a little shyly while I’m patting them. Then a small grumble sound comes from Ellie, and she presses her stomach with a slightly embarrassed look. It seems to be the sound of digestion.
“Ehehe… I got hungry. Ma’am Witch, those white petals help all kinds of vegetables and fruits grow strong, right? Uncle Daon told me so. There’s a fruit I’ve always wanted to eat — I wonder if that one could grow too.”
“Without seeds, even the best soil can’t grow something.”
“Oh, right. Then I guess not…”
Ellie looked so crestfallen that I tilted my head to ask what kind of fruit it was. She described something from a fairy tale — a fruit that grows in places dense with magical energy, like monster wastelands.
A low shrub that grows small, colorful, glittering berries, sweet as candy, looking like the round drops in a tin of colored candy. It’s called the “Fairy Candy Tree.”
(I absorbed one of those before, so I can grow it for her!)
I smiled at Ellie and beckoned for her to follow, heading toward her house. I grew a Fairy Candy Tree beside it — and she practically bounced off the ground with joy.
“Wow…! These are fairy candies! Thank you so much, ma’am Witch…!”
This became the beginning of it: villagers started coming to me to grow all sorts of plants. And in return, food and useful things began arriving at the watermill — and I seem to have been fully accepted by this village, which makes me genuinely happy.
…Not knowing, of course, that a certain rumor was spreading: a village under the sway of a witch who controls all plants.