---

The World Union Refugee Protection Organization.

The refugee camp established by the international community has finally come to life.

“The special envoy from the Gabiria Union has arrived.”

“Prime Minister Jalal and President Marham will be here soon. Estimated time of arrival is 10 minutes.”

“Check the barricades and confirm the deployment status of security personnel at the venue.”

With sharp eyes, the Peacekeeping Force patrols the area, while the local president’s security team roams around the camp.

In this tight security, with barely a gap to breathe, the gathered refugees surround the tense-faced soldiers.

The camp is bustling for the first time in a while, with civilians, soldiers, and journalists all gathered in one place. The faces of the refugees reflected in the Magic Imaging Equipment show a glimmer of excitement.

“……”

As I looked down at the complicated camp from the watchtower, Pippin ascended the stairs to report to me.

“Manager, the event is about to start.”

“What about security personnel at the venue?”

“They’re all in position. The operations team has also taken their places.”

“……”

“Let’s go.”

“Just let me finish this.”

Pippin checked the radio before disappearing down the stairs. I shook off the ash, took a drag on my cigarette, and looked up at the sky.

A clear blue sky, not a cloud in sight.

The desert stretches out to the horizon, visible beyond the barbed wire.

A vehicle carrying the saint approaches, cutting through the swirling sand.

—

Episode 17 – The Tree That Drinks Blood

Immediately after the deal with Ibrahim was sealed, I parted ways with the operations team and went in search of Francesca.

“What brings you here at this late hour, Colonel?”

“I have a favor to ask.”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

While I met with Francesca, the Royal Intelligence Department’s operations team deployed to the scene.

-Creeeak!

“What are you doing?! What is happening—Ugh…!”

“If you make a sound, you die.”

Royal Intelligence Department employees raided the hideout of Sanya Warlord, located in the southeastern area of the refugee camp.

While they halted surveillance midway, it was easy to locate due to the information shared from foreign governments.

The operations team broke in through the door and succeeded in securing Yunus inside.

“The perimeter team waits outside, the rest will enter. Gather everything that could be useful.”

“Wait, take me with you, Yunus.”

As they hooded Yunus and shoved him into the vehicle, the information officers who entered the hideout stuffed documents and pension record storage devices into their bags.

With a good amount of mid-level Sanya officials and documents in their possession, the operations team drove out of the refugee camp. The time from kidnapping to exit was less than 10 minutes.

By the time I returned to the Royal Intelligence Department’s safe house, the operations team had already analyzed the testimonies of Yunus and the materials from Sanya Warlord.

“Did you find out anything, Bill?”

“A lot. First of all, we confirmed the number of cultists that Sanya Warlord has brought into this country.”

The recruitment specialist from Sanya, after being interrogated by the Royal Intelligence Department, spilled a bit of information he knew.

Cross-referencing the materials secured from the hideout with Yunus’s testimony, we obtained the information that there were exactly four cult members who entered the camp.

“Did you find any plans or schedules for the cultist attack?”

“Not yet. According to Yunus, he just took the money and helped those people cross the border. He doesn’t know their identities or the purpose of their entry.”

Of course, there was no one who believed his words.

“I’ll ask again, Yunus.”

“Huff…”

“What’s the plan? Who are you targeting in the camp?”

“…Just kill me, you filthy bastards!”

“Looks like we won’t get anything this way. Fill the kettle and bring the car battery.”

Matt pressed Yunus for him to confess the information he knew. As a cloth covered his face, water poured out, and electricity coursed through his body.

I could see Yunus undergoing electric torture through the partially opened door. Each time the power surged, he would jerk violently in the chair.

I watched the scene along with Matt.

“I heard Yunus is still holding out.”

“He’ll crack soon.”

“Director Leoni wants to know what’s going on, no matter what, before dawn.”

“I’ll try. Go see Larry. He might have found something.”

Matt said as he closed the door. Beyond the narrowing gap, I could see Yunus, slumped in the chair, exhausted after the electrical interrogation.

The smell of grilled meat and steam wafted through the door as I met Larry upstairs in the hideout. The senior analyst at the Royal Intelligence Department was breaking down the pension storage devices related to Sanya’s activities with his team of analysts.

“Matt wanted you to see him, Larry.”

“Matt? Where is he now?”

“In the basement. You might prefer not knowing the details. So what was in the gift box?”

Larry, leaning on his staff, grinned as he adjusted his glasses.

“Heh heh. Just check it out for yourself, buddy.”

Leading me into the analysis room, Larry walked over to the monitor. The senior analyst struggled into a chair and tapped the screen.

“See this?”

“It’s a photograph.”

Indeed, it was a photograph.

The picture displayed Sanya’s soldiers with their faces covered by black cloth. The white text surrounding it seemed to indicate some sort of propaganda.

Larry zoomed in and pointed to a corner. There, I noticed a faint noise.

“Do you see this noise?”

“Yeah.”

Larry began to explain.

“It’s a trace of steganography.”

Steganography.

A method of hiding codes within images. The unnatural noise in the corner was one of the typical traits of steganography.

“It seems Sanya Warlord wasn’t just taking money from the Imperial Intelligence Corps. The picture we retrieved from the recruitment specialist’s hideout contained steganography.”

“Well… it’s unlikely that the Imperial Intelligence Corps formally taught it. More like they picked it up from somewhere or learned it on the fly. Can you crack it?”

“Is that even a question? Of course I can!”

His fingers danced across the keyboard.

The senior analyst at the Royal Intelligence Department inserted the photo into decryption software and began cracking the code.

“Let’s see… the signature of the photo seems fine.”

Larry meticulously dissected the image, confirming the endpoint of the file and examining the signature.

The Warlord’s poor encryption system was breached in no time.

Larry noticed, through the numbers and strings he found in the files, that something was locked away in Document 16, and after mixing the numbers and characters together, he figured out the password.

“It’s open. How long did that take?”

“Three minutes.”

“See? I’m that good!”

The Royal Intelligence Department’s senior analyst shrugged, as if he had solved a complex puzzle.

Yet, the level of the encryption was so crude that it would have been laughed at even by the standards of when I was at the Information Command, let alone now in the Military Intelligence Agency.

With a glance at the childishly smug analyst, Larry cleared his throat and returned to work, regaining his focus.

“In any case, let’s read the data that those Warlord guys tried so hard to hide.”

I leaned against the backrest of the chair and gazed at the screen.

Moments later, as I descended to the basement, I ran into Matt emerging from the torture room.

“Gather the team, Matt.”

“Did you find anything?”

“A little.”

“Good.”

The operations team leader wiped the sweat from his brow and spoke up.

“Let’s hear the plan.”

—

From the watchtower, I could see the southern gate packed with a crowd.

The president waved his arms out of the sunroof, while diplomats from the Union exchanged greetings with the Prime Minister.

As a convoy of vehicles crossed through the gates, a report from the Peacekeeping Force Executive came through the radio.

-‘The Saint is entering.’

I switched to a secure channel on the dial and relayed the news through the radio.

“Heart Queen has arrived. Repeat, Heart Queen is here.”

-‘Confirmed.’

The operations team employees, mingling with the crowd, cast furtive glances toward the southern gate.

As the employees identifying the vehicle dispersed to their positions, Matt and I exchanged glances.

I sent a message to him via the radio.

“Do you see the Handler, Matt?”

-‘No. Not yet.’

I surveyed the crowd from the watchtower. Just as Matt said, I didn’t see anyone particularly conspicuous doing anything suspicious.

“Everyone, stay alert. Mark anyone who seems suspicious. Especially those who frequently make eye contact with security teams or display cold sweat.”

-‘Keep your eyes peeled and search thoroughly. We need to catch someone today.’

“Sniper team, report your position.”

A slight crackle of static crackled on the radio before a strange meow came through.

-‘Currently positioned on the 4th floor of the eastern building. It’s got a green sign.’

“Any unusual activity?”

-‘Nothing major yet… but there’s a strange taste in the water from the first floor.’

“Pinch your nose and drink.”

-‘Mreow…!’

-‘The meow of Kair can be heard all the way up to the roof! Someone bring me some churu, quick…!’

Hearing the din of complaints from the Beastmen and Ninfs over the radio, I quickly descended from the watchtower.

Unlike the southern gate, the area around the watchtower was tightly secured. Access was forbidden for refugees and journalists. Only soldiers could enter and exit this area.

As I reached the first floor, a soldier waiting nearby followed me. Dressed differently from the Peacekeeping Force, armed with a rifle and wearing civilian clothes, he was someone I recognized.

“Are you looking for a cultist, Colonel?”

“No.”

Ibrahim.

From the Utland Knight Order, Order of the Holy Knights, Unit 92541.

The undercover operator of the Order, posing as a civilian mercenary, spoke while keeping watch.

“This is bad news.”

I glanced sideways at Ibrahim and asked a question.

“We’re also making efforts to search. What about you guys?”

“Our members are disguised as Knights infiltrating Saint Lucia’s security team. As you can see, I’m disguised as an adventurer.”

While he said ‘adventurer,’ he seemed more like a private security contractor to me.

Of course, it’s not entirely wrong to call him that. In this town, adventurers are synonymous with mercenaries. They preferred to be called adventurers as it doesn’t sound as ‘money-driven’ as mercenaries do. After all, both roles are the same in that they are operating for pay.

Ibrahim and I exchanged information as we walked along the barbed wire.

“We have Yunus in our custody. You received the intel this morning, right?”

“Yes. The number of cultists that infiltrated the camp. While we still haven’t figured out the specific plans, Jake conveyed the final goal to us.”

The soldier of the Order continued.

“They’re after the blood of Saint Lucia. Specifically, obtaining her blood.”

Indeed.

After torturing the kidnapped Yunus and analyzing the materials secured by the operations team, the Royal Intelligence Department’s analysts uncovered that the cultists were after Lucia’s blood.

So the message left by the slain informant that said ‘We want the Saint’s blood’ was not a metaphor for assassination but a clear indication that they wanted her blood.

I broke the silence.

“Why would the cult want the blood of Saint Lucia?”

“To use it as a sacrifice, I presume.”

The commander of the special operations unit of the Order who has dealt exclusively with cultists continued with his expertise.

“The blood of a priest makes for an excellent sacrificial material. When divinity manifests, remnants of the divine mixed into the blood provide a good medium. Cultists focus precisely on this aspect.”

“Oh, I’ve heard that too. They say they use the blood of priests for something akin to divine sorcery?”

“More accurately, it’s about the mysteries.”

The way cultists utilize a priest’s blood is similar to how magicians handle magic. Offering sacrifices to invoke miracles, akin to primitive sorcery.

Ibrahim believed that this is the cult’s true objective.

“If it’s the blood of Saint Lucia, it would make for an unparalleled medium compared to any other priest. Just like how the blood of a famous magician trades for high prices on the black market.”

“What are the cultists planning to do with that blood?”

“I can only guess. Not all cultists think alike. But whatever it is, it doesn’t seem like it’s part of a pleasant plan.”

I agreed wholeheartedly.

As we made our way toward the southern gate, Ibrahim shared insights based on his experiences and training, while I spoke about the information I gathered from the documents.

For reference, the materials I reviewed were produced by the Cabinet Security Office and Special Investigation Bureau of Abbas’s domestic intelligence and, of course, the Magic Department. Compared to the Military Intelligence Agency focused on military security and counterespionage, working with domestic intelligence agencies was much easier and practical in understanding cult-related issues due to their expertise and specialization.

Especially since cult matters intertwine with mysteries, the materials from the Magic Department proved invaluable. Researching mysteries falls under the realm of magicians or religious figures.

For instance, there’s Ibrahim, who has been active in Mauritania under the direction of the Holy See, eliminating cultists and securing mysteries and relics.

I turned to the expert on cults and mysteries.

“I heard you’ve worked in areas related to mysteries on the orders of the Holy See.”

“I mostly operated under the Pope’s instructions, but I have also received requests from Al-Yabd a few times. Mysteries are an area of interest for them as well.”

“Oh, right. I think Al-Yabd has an agency focused solely on securing and studying mysteries.”

“The Relic Management Committee. It’s Al-Yabd’s organization responsible for recovering and excavating relics. Mysteries also fall under its jurisdiction.”

I inquired whether there had been any information from Al-Yabd. They would certainly regard cults as serious matters.

However, Ibrahim seemed to have heard nothing on that front. He shook his head nonchalantly.

“Relations with Al-Yabd have been on hold since early this year.”

“Why is that?”

“Because the Pope changed.”

“Oh.”

Now that I think about it, the current leader of the Order is Raphael. A hardliner who made a name for himself as the former Inquisition Director.

Raphael was notorious for his hardline methods during his previous tenure, and his fame was widespread not just among intelligence agencies but also among different religious groups.

With someone like him elected as pope, there’s no way Al-Yabd would continue their exchange. Their ideologies simply wouldn’t align.

When a leader is elected, it’s quite common for relationships to sour, even in international diplomacy.

“There’s some background to this, isn’t there?”

I nodded in acknowledgment. Of course, Ibrahim seemed quite indifferent to it.

“Well, now that we know the cultists’ objective, we just need to figure out their method. How do you suppose they’ll try to obtain Saint Lucia’s blood? Do you have any predictions?”

“If they have no means to secure it discreetly, then they’ll likely resort to force, right? If they succeed in getting the blood, they’ll probably ambush Saint Lucia with blades.”

“What about syringes? From previous reports of cultist attacks, it seems there have been cases where they collected victims’ blood with syringes.”

“While that could be a method, it has a low feasibility. Unless Saint Lucia just stands by, if they abruptly try to inject her, she’d undoubtedly resist, and then the needle would pop out. Or it might break.”

That meant the chances of failure were high.

Then they would ambush her with weapons.

As I walked along the barbed-wire barricades, I soon arrived at my destination. We had agreed to disperse from here.

Before moving to our positions in preparation for the cultist raid, I shared final information with Ibrahim.

“If the cultists succeed in their ambush, they’ll likely attempt to escape to the Necropolis.”

“The Necropolis? Really?”

“Yes.”

I nodded.

“I’ve prepared people just in case they flee to the Necropolis, but first, it’s crucial we stop them before they escape the camp.”

“I will definitely stop them. Well then, I’ll take my leave.”

“Stay safe.”

“Be careful of the cultists, Brother.”

Ibrahim, with his scarf pulled up to his nose, vanished after a brief nod.

I watched him blend into the crowd.

As the soldier in plain clothes faded away, I turned and began to walk.

*

The once gloomy refugee camp, shrouded in dark clouds, was suddenly lively. It was because an important guest had arrived.

“The 59th Saint of the Cult, Saint Lucia, is entering!”

As the reporters continued their live coverage in front of the Magic Imaging Equipment, a massive crowd surged behind them. Among the tightly packed mass, a woman with flowing platinum hair stood out.

“Hello! Thank you for the warm welcome.”

Lucia placed her hand on her chest and slightly bowed.

A local suit-wearing man with bronze skin beamed at her, greeting her.

“It’s an honor, Saint! We sincerely welcome your visit to our country!”

The local man in the bursting suit was none other than the president of this place.

Despite 97% of the religious population being followers of Al-Yabd, a country that recognized it as the state religion, the influence of the Saint was widely known, even in nations hostile to the cult.

Lucia’s visit had been directly approved by the government that recognized Al-Yabd, and with the international community’s attention turned to this event, the president greeted Lucia with a broad smile.

“Thank you, Mr. President.”

Lucia slightly bowed her head with a gentle smile directed at the president. The sight of a follower of Al-Yabd standing next to the Saint of the Cult was indeed peculiar, but the atmosphere was cheerful.

It was no wonder, as Lucia had already treated more than 8,000 patients in just two weeks since her arrival in this country. All free of charge.

Natural disasters, civil wars, borders collapsing under monsters, and riots from Sirens had blocked sea routes and brought economic crises. Facing threats of military coups amid this unstable political foundation, the president began to act like a man who had dropped years’ worth of burdens upon the arrival of a hero to solve the refugee problem he had been grappling with.

Indeed, if a mere individual had treated over 8,000 citizens for free, there was no way he wouldn’t roll out the red carpet for anyone. Even the deeply religious president of Al-Yabd was no exception.

Even amidst the relationship between the cult and Al-Yabd heading toward a crisis, the warmth in the president’s gaze toward Lucia was boundless. He grasped the Saint’s hand as if it were a lifeline.

“Really, really glad you came! Your arrival in this country must surely be a sign of divine assistance.”

“Ah, yes. Divine assistance indeed.”

Of course, the gods they believed in were entirely different, but did it really matter?

The two shared laughter, radiant in the cordial atmosphere.

“I’d like to meet the refugees now.”

“You truly have a kind heart. Of course! Let’s go this way. I’ll show you the headquarters.”

The president led Lucia toward the headquarters building located deep within the refugee camp. Contrary to the pretense that he would personally escort her, it was actually an international relief worker who guided her.

After staging about ten seconds of guiding Lucia into the entrance, the president quickly joined government officials to deliver a lengthy speech to the reporters. Perhaps with the presidential election approaching.

It was an open secret that the country’s presidential elections had a miraculous voter turnout exceeding 100%.

“You’re already campaigning…”

I dodged the reporters’ gazes and stepped past the president and his security team to approach Lucia.

“Oh, there you are.”

“Nice to see you, Lucia.”

Surrounded by relief workers, Lucia recognized me and beamed with a bright smile. It was a level of radiance far beyond her greeting to the president.

I matched my pace with Lucia’s and slowly moved forward, apologizing along the way.

“I’m sorry for delaying the schedule. I had some coordination issues with the Peacekeeping Force regarding security.”

By the original plan, Lucia should have arrived here early yesterday morning, but the Holy Knights, acting on the Inquisition’s orders, had shifted the schedule under the pretext of security checks, causing her visit to be delayed by a day.

While plans to arrive at the refugee camp and start aid activities as early as possible were thrown off, Lucia seemed completely unbothered. Rather, she seemed relieved that she arrived earlier than she could have.

“It’s okay. It’s better to arrive now than not at all, right?”

“That’s unexpected. Didn’t you say during the last meeting that late arrivals are unacceptable?”

“Did I say that?”

Lucia tilted her head slightly, flashing a wink.

Then suddenly, she gasped.

“Oh, now that I think about it, I might have said something like that. But really, you don’t need to feel sorry about it.”

“Why not?”

“Well, it’s because you were worried about me.”

Lucia, wearing a soft smile, continued with a shy grin.

“You delayed your schedule because you were concerned about me. How could I scold you for that? Instead, I should be thankful.”

“Thankful? Really, you don’t have to…”

“But I truly am grateful.”

Lucia maintained her smile while looking around.

As we continued our conversation and entered the building, soon there were only the two of us left. The relief workers had rushed into a room marked ‘Medical Room’ to prepare for something, while the holy knights lingered outside for a moment.

Once she confirmed there was no one watching, Lucia finally sighed in relief. Then she took a step closer, standing on tiptoes, and pecked my cheek.

With a small sound and a gentle touch, her lips brushed against my skin.

Lucia, who had been on tiptoes, lowered her heels back to the ground and smiled at me.

“Thank you for worrying about me.”

I was momentarily taken aback by the sudden kiss, brushing my fingers across my cheek.

But as it happened, Lucia smiled and said we’ll see each other later before stepping inside.

“…That was surprising.”

I turned to check if anyone was around. Thankfully, it was just the two of us in the hallway.

I briefly glanced at the room where Lucia had entered, and then quickly diverted my gaze from the door. I exited the building in a hurry to return to the scene.

*

With the visit of the world’s only Saint, the atmosphere in the refugee camp was reminiscent of a festival.

Cheering and roars echoed, loud enough to cause earaches. I felt a slight headache alongside the dizziness.

The radio echoed similar sounds. The security channel relayed conversations from the operations team in real-time.

-“Everyone’s excited. Can you believe all these people are followers of Al-Yabd?”

-“They’re welcoming her because she came to help. She’s a cleric of the cult, but first and foremost, a guest.”

-“Check for bomb vests. Last time, some lunatic claimed they’d detonate a bomb at the sight of the Saint, even if it meant suicide. Who knows if they might show up here?”

*Bark! Bark!* Whether reacting to the mention of bombs or just wanting to bark, the bomb-sniffing dog of the Peacekeeping Force began to dart around the event area, looking at me and barking.

Moments later, Matt’s voice came through the radio.

-“Who’s the one chatting on the network?”

With a single line, he silenced the entire comms. He clicked his tongue quietly. Changing frequencies, Matt quickly called my name and sent a message.

-“Been watching for two hours now, and there’s no sign of anything suspicious. The sniper team on the upper floors hasn’t spotted anything new either.”

The same went for the cultists’ side.

Ibrahim, who had just completed a sweep of the area, shook his head as soon as he met me.

“I can’t see any sign of the cultists. What about your team?”

“We haven’t spotted anything either.”

“Damn…”

It had already been two hours since Lucia arrived at the camp. Currently, she was working her way around the camp, interacting with patients.

“What do the team disguised as security say?”

“They’ve reported no issues either. Our team members, the holy knights, even priests and the peacekeeping forces haven’t seen anything unusual.”

“……”

I gazed at the members of the Order of the Holy Knights guarding Lucia. Adorned in silver armor and bulletproof vests, they presented a peculiar blend of tradition and science. If divinity were discovered in this day and age, one could imagine the Vatican’s Swiss Guard outfitted similarly.

The Order of the Holy Knights, wearing a hybrid of armor and bulletproof gear, was armed with automatic rifles while securing Lucia. Their fierce eyes scanned the crowd through the slits of their balaclavas, but their movements remained largely unchanged as they didn’t seem like they had spotted anything suspicious.

Lucia was treating the refugees without a hitch. Watching this serene scene, I murmured.

“…Something feels off.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just… everything.”

I couldn’t quite articulate how to express it. Everything felt strange.

A group of cultists that crossed the border with Sanya Warlord’s support. They had infiltrated the camp looking for Lucia’s blood.

Their crew consisted of four members. The Sanya Warlord had disguised them as refugees. Once the mission was accomplished, they’d planned to escape to the Necropolis to evade pursuit, and currently, they were watching for the moment to obtain Lucia’s blood.

Yet, nothing had happened thus far.

“……”

I stared at the calm atmosphere of the camp and the blessedly unperturbed Lucia, lost in thought.

What if, just what if, the intel we had received was wrong?

Suddenly struck by this thought, I shook my head.

The intel was accurate. Ibrahim’s information, Yunus’s testimony, and the materials secured from Sanya’s residence all supported the fact that the cultists had infiltrated this area.

I scanned my surroundings. Armed peacekeepers were stationed throughout the area to guard Lucia.

In anticipation of the recent public murder threats and terror warnings, the peacekeeping force had dramatically increased their security measures, even deploying magicians and military dogs. Additionally, even a diplomat dispatched by the alliance was there to guard Lucia, in case a terrorist incident occurred.

Let’s consider this.

If I were a terrorist, would I directly attack such a hard target?

“……”

Research on terrorists surged following the 9/11 attacks. Intelligence agencies, from the CIA and SIS in the West to the Chinese Ministry of State Security and the Russian FSB, rapidly researched the nature of terrorism and exchanged opinions among various countries’ intelligence agencies. Naturally, the National Intelligence Service did the same.

Through all that vast data and time spent in the Third World, I realized that terrorists aren’t clueless fools barging in head-first.

Terrorists, fundamentally, are guerrillas.

They know that attacking the local government forces or regular troops from abroad head-on is futile. They know it, and so do we.

Instead, they obsessively target weak points. Since charging in openly would only result in their own deaths. They typically avoided hard targets like military facilities or airports, instead targeting comparatively vulnerable urban areas and hotels.

Now, looking back at Lucia, numerous security personnel stood around her.

Even if I were to consider myself a terrorist, that was not an easy target to attack at all. Even intelligence officers or special forces would have to incur significant losses to breach that security.

The cultists would likely know as well. That obtaining Lucia’s blood through the layers of holy knights and peacekeepers was virtually impossible.

So what would they aim for?

“…Lucia.”

“Yes?”

I called out to Lucia, who had been treating her patients. She followed me out, wondering what was up.

I led her behind a tent, took a deep breath, and slowly opened my mouth.

“This might sound a bit strange, and I hope you don’t take it the wrong way, but… have you ever bled since coming here?”

“Blood? Why are you asking that all of a sudden?”

“I just need to check something, so please think carefully about it.”

“Bled? I haven’t been scratched or hurt at all… but actually, I did undergo some tests.”

“…Tests?”

“Yes.”

Lucia replied, as if it were no big deal.

“I had to get a blood test due to some epidemics spreading among the refugees, and the hygiene situation is poor. There was also the local endemic diseases, so it was requested by international organizations for blood testing. Just because I’m a cleric doesn’t mean I can’t get sick.”

“…When did you have that test?”

“It was at the camp’s medical room earlier…”

Before I could even hear the rest, I dashed toward the building where Lucia had been.

“Stand by! All personnel on standby near the headquarters, repeat! To the medical room of the headquarters!”

“What’s going on?!”

“Lucia had her blood drawn!”

“What?!”

“A blood test! She had her blood drawn in the medical room!”

Understanding the situation, Ibrahim sprang into action next to me.

The Royal Intelligence Department employees, previously mixed in with the crowd, converged near the headquarters of the refugee camp. Following Ibrahim’s orders, the Holy Knights split into two teams.

Bam!

As uninvited guests stormed into the headquarters, startled staff members stumbled to the floor. Some of the medical staff, in a hurry to clear the trays, dropped medical instruments.

I charged through the chaos across the corridor, kicking the medical room door open with my pistol drawn. Ibrahim, aiming his automatic rifle, checked around the corner behind me.

“Nothing unusual.”

“……”

I lowered the hand holding the pistol.

And with a lost expression, I gazed at the window.

“…Ah, damn it.”

The window was wide open, clearly broken by the lock.

And there it was—an open blood refrigerator.

Two hours and forty-three minutes since Lucia entered the camp.

Her blood had been stolen by the cultists.

 

---