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“Even after working for a long time in the Middle East and Africa, I still can’t adapt to the desert’s climate.”

The bright sunshine and dry wind were so overwhelming that I could hardly keep my clothes from fluttering, and Charnoy, who was leaning against the window, began to sulk.

“The sun is incredibly hot… Truly a weather despised by nymphs… At this rate, I might just stick to the asphalt like a melted ice cream….”

The beastman’s gaze towards his friend was filled with disbelief, as if asking why someone would be so dramatic over such a thing.

Of course, the nymph, wilted in the sweltering heat, looked no different from the beastman sitting in the backseat. It meant they were both on the verge of dying.

“The car is shaking too much…”

Kair, dressed in the typical garb of a nomad that looked like a white dress, let out a heavy sigh. Due to the sensitivity typical of beastmen, he was inevitably prone to motion sickness.

I turned the wheel and handed him some motion sickness pills. As he swallowed the pills dry, his spirit seemed to revive, and his tail began to sway like laundry fluttering in the breeze.

The minivan, transformed into a sauna under the blazing sun, was met with a breeze from the air conditioner, but it was hardly refreshing. As the passengers’ moods plunged into the depths, only Francesca maintained a serene composure.

“Mm~”

The unending expanse of desert and the faint scent of sparse brown vegetation.

The magician, humming a cheerful tune, pulled his gaze from the window and unfolded a map.

“If we keep going straight like this, we should arrive by evening. Is there no way to go faster, Colonel?”

“How can we speed up when we came flying through a Warp Gate?”

The cultists who had drained Lucia’s blood were already far ahead of us.

Since time was of the essence, we couldn’t afford to dawdle, so we began our pursuit by crossing the border into the neighboring country via the Warp Gate. For the record, the vehicle was provided by the Royal Intelligence Department.

Calculating the distance and travel time, Francesca propped her foot up on the glove compartment. Thanks to her tall stature, even casually resting her leg there looked picturesque.

Francesca, occupying the passenger seat, glanced back at me.

“By the way, Colonel.”

“Yes?”

“Why aren’t you calling me master? I’m technically your subordinate right now.”

“…”

I stepped on the gas without replying, and the sound of her giggles filtered from the passenger seat.

—

Episode 17 – The Tree That Drinks Blood

The cultists have drained Lucia’s blood.

With the help of the warlord broker, they infiltrated the refugee camp, broke the medical room window, and took the blood packs from the fridge, escaping the camp and crossing the border.

Their final destination is the Necropolis.

That is precisely where we are headed.

“Our objective is to recover the items stolen by the cultists.

A path through the desert.

I explained the plan to the three of them.

“The mission’s goal is to retrieve Lucia’s blood stolen by the cultists. The moment we recover even a single drop of the blood they took, this operation will be a complete success.”

The key is to not let a single drop slip away.

“We won’t be handling the recovery of the blood. We will infiltrate the Necropolis, gather intel on the cultists’ base, and just confirm whether or not the blood is there.”

Her purple eyes were gazing at me. Francesca, turning her head, opened her mouth to ask a question.

“Are there dedicated people for the recovery?”

“Yes. The cult will handle that.”

Although Lucia is a comrade of Francesca and me, she is fundamentally a cleric of the cult. This was true before the oracles came down and has remained so since she joined us.

Thus, it was decided that the mission of directly recovering the blood would be entrusted to the cult. The unit assigned to the operation is the Order of the Holy Knights.

This was something I had reached an agreement on with Ibrahim before our departure. I would provide the information, and Ibrahim was to lead the knights to ambush the cultists.

Upon hearing the explanation, she began to nod calmly.

“I’ve heard the name ‘Order of the Holy Knights’ in the journal left behind by my ancestors.”

“That’s the order responsible for the latter half of the Independence War. If you’re an archmage, you might have even faced them directly.”

The news of the Order of the Holy Knights being activated didn’t particularly stir much emotion in me, but Francesca had a different reaction. The moment she heard the name of the order that once pressured the Magic Tower to its brink, her expression changed.

However, since the Order of the Holy Knights was currently collaborating with us, Francesca had no particular reason to be wary of them.

“If the Order of the Holy Knights is in charge of the recovery, we shouldn’t have any worries… But it might be wise to have a backup plan. I’ll look into ways to snatch back Saint Lucia’s blood that was taken by the cultists.”

“Snatch it back? Is that even possible?”

Francesca’s delightful smile faced my skeptical expression.

“Have you forgotten who I am?”

I had seen Francesca’s skill, wisdom, and animalistic instincts countless times in the North.

It was also thanks to her that we learned there were dark magicians allied with demons in the Magic Tower delegation. She even dealt with the main culprit herself.

She was trustworthy in many respects. I nodded and replied.

“A good plan is always welcome.”

The vehicle that had crossed the wasteland finally arrived in the city. Having passed through numerous checkpoints along the route, the checkpoint to the city had a particularly peculiar feature.

The small outpost dominating the main road was guarded by an armed officer.

At first glance, it didn’t seem much different from a government army checkpoint or a warlord’s guard post, but the guard who stepped out from the outpost wasn’t human; he was an orc.

Hssssh! The orc exhaled a threatening breath through its sharp teeth and aimed its rifle at the vehicle.

“Turn back! This is no place for you to be!”

There was no request to show identification or a permit. The orc blocking our way commanded us to turn the vehicle around with authority.

It was a unilateral directive, with a gunbarrel that looked ready to fire. A scenario that would have sent a timid person racing to back up, but we didn’t flinch at all.

Francesca stepped out of the vehicle and approached the orc guard, extending something toward him. It was a token that only those authorized to pass could possess.

“Hmm…”

The orc examined the token, narrowing his eyes as he looked at Francesca.

“Are you a magician?”

“Yes.”

“How can we trust you without a cape or robe?”

As the guard demanded proof of identity, Francesca rolled up her sleeve.

“… Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

A momentary incantation followed, as a gear began to rotate and float in her palm.

It was the core of a golem.

– …Wuuuuum.

The gear, emitting a mystical light, began pulling in surrounding objects to form a body.

Starting with the chest. Then the abdomen.

As the rotation sped up, pebbles writhed, forming massive arms, and soon legs followed suit, creating a golem that towered above the desert.

– Giiiiinnnnn….

As the gigantic creature rose amidst strange sounds, the orc’s expression shifted. The earlier threatening demeanor disappeared completely, and the guard bowed politely toward Francesca.

“I apologize, Madame Magician. Please forgive me for doubting a seeker of truth.”

Seeing the serious orc apologize, Francesca responded with a bright smile, waving her hand as if to say it was alright.

After confirming the token and identity, the orc quickly removed obstacles and opened the gate.

As the gear rotated counterclockwise, the golem’s form scattered, and Francesca returned to the vehicle with the golem’s core in hand.

It was about that time that the orc who had threatened us approached again. The guard walked to the driver’s seat and stated we needed to disembark and proceed on foot from here on.

“…What will we do?”

Kair, who had been sitting in the back, asked.

“Let’s get off for now. Just grab the equipment.”

Kair and Charnoy gathered their belongings and exited the vehicle. I followed Francesca and the guard into the city.

We were led to a small two-story house with a little garden. It was a quaint structure made of sandy bricks topped with a blue roof.

“You can go down now.”

The orc guard pointed to the basement. I threw a question back at him.

“Is this where the guidance ends?”

“Yes. We can’t go any further.”

The orc unlocked the door with a key, bowing politely once more before ascending to the ground.

As the sounds of his footsteps climbing faded into the distance, we stood before the door to the basement, gazing at each other.

“…”

I looked at Francesca. She silently nodded, and upon receiving her answer, I took a deep breath and pushed the door open, stepping inside.

And then.

—

Looking up, the ground was a sky.

The ground was not a floor.

As if to soothe the souls of the free beings wandering the vast wasteland, the celestial galaxy descended.

Along the gentle curves, tightly-set crystals sparkled, and the seas formed by rivers and valleys revealed their presence in the faint darkness.

It was beautiful. The city cloaked in darkness was strangely beautiful.

The fog that had gathered like mist began to fade like a dream on a midsummer night. In the city where the ground was the ceiling, starlight rained down.

A train entering through a colossal tree evoked visions of a lost dwarven city that had faded into the sands of time, and the tightly-knit houses bore the quaint charm as though they had been plucked from ancient and medieval cities.

The melodic chirping of birds filled with joy, and the sunshine caressed the skin, but along the elegant curves of the ceiling, radiant constellations flowed. Carpets and broomsticks floated through the sea of stars, captured in my eyes.

A scene more beautiful than the city burdened with the scars of war, built upon the foundations of glorious science and magic.

The underground city, seemingly entombed in infinite time, possessed a charm so enchanting that it was hard to look away.

“…”

In a moment completely captivated by the beautiful scenery, a fragrant scent tickled my nose.

Turning my head revealed the soft curves of the ceiling flowing with a crystalline galaxy.

An ancient city, holding onto its antiquity.

Against the backdrop of a city built by, for, and about magicians.

“Welcome, Colonel.”

Francesca greeted me with an enchanting smile.

“To Necropolis.”

A slight smile appeared at the corner of the car’s mouth.

“Having a look is fine, but don’t you think you’re acting a bit too much like a country bumpkin?”

“Did I really?”

“Yes. If someone saw you, they’d think you just moved to the city from the countryside.”

Francesca, draped in the cape she brought from the car, surveyed the city with a gaze full of monotonous boredom.

“Hmm….”

With her arms crossed, she tilted her head at the houses that seemed to have flown in from ancient and medieval times.

“The appearance is rather impressive. At this level, it wouldn’t be out of place compared to the Central Area of the Magic Tower, which boasts the longest history.”

I knew about the Central Area of the Magic Tower as well.

When the Archmages devoted their efforts to creating the Magic Tower, they made the core that would become the center of the Magic Tower.

It was because the core was alive that the tower floated against gravity and the protective barrier preventing external incursions lasted over a hundred years.

Once the Archmages completed the core, they constructed the city around it. As the tower grew, the Oracle utilized the empty spaces above and below to expand and reorganize areas, but the core at the center was never touched.

After all, it was a legacy left by our great ancestors.

That was precisely what Francesca referred to as the Central Area.

Observing the Necropolis, Francesca compared it to the Magic Tower. What seemed to us to be a splendid city, her thoughts as a skilled mage appeared to be a bit different.

Continuing her observations with her arms crossed, she did not hold back her harsh critique of the city.

“The exiles certainly put in a lot of effort. Did they miss the Magic Tower that much?”

“Exiles…?”

Charnoy, who had been fiddling with the weeds by the roadside, tilted her head in confusion.

“What does that mean?”

“Oh, it seems you don’t know about exiles.”

With a gentle smile, Francesca began her explanation.

“Exiles refer to mages who have been driven out from the Magic Tower. They’re criminals who have broken the laws.”

The war for independence between the Magic Tower and the Cult brought about many changes.

In the era preceding the Magic Tower, often referred to as the Age of Savagery, conflicts among mages were frequent.

Mages who sought to reach the truth revealed their greedy teeth at any small gain that appeared before them; their sticky desires soon turned into violence.

They would steal their colleagues’ research outcomes, seize magical tools, and there were even instances of abducting ordinary people for experiments.

The cycle of violence did not cease despite individual efforts.

Mages began private reprisals to avenge their master’s enemies, trying to fulfill the grievances of their shattered disciples, which brought a crisis to the Magic Tower as they banded together against the Cult’s inquisition.

Conscious of the tragic internecine conflict and the international community’s scrutiny, the Archmages convened a meeting. It was in that meeting that the rules for mages were born.

That is the law.

The legal code of the magical society that ended the Age of Savagery.

Continuing her explanation, Francesca spoke in a calm voice.

“While both criminal and civil laws exist in the Magic Tower, the law is prioritized above any current legislation. Much like the constitution determining the identity of a nation and the laws of religion.”

“So, if one breaks the law…”

“Yes. It means they have committed an unforgivable crime by any means.”

In other words, saying that the Necropolis built by the exiles was essentially a den for criminals who defied the law and were cast out from the Magic Tower.

Charnoy, caught completely off guard by the unexpected identity of the city, became filled with dread. As she rolled her eyes with an expression more uneasy than ever, Francesca smiled as if to reassure her.

“Yes, it’s true that the Necropolis is a city built by the exiled mages cast out from the Magic Tower and its Ivory Tower, and many exiles live here, but there’s no need to worry. Ordinary people live here too.”

Of course, those ‘ordinary people’ are mostly mercenaries, criminals, traffickers, or cultists, though.

Anyway.

Perhaps due to Francesca’s words alleviating her worries, Charnoy was able to return to her bright self once again.

“It’s reassuring…! So, who are we meeting today?”

“My acquaintance. Well, just someone I met briefly. They’ll be responsible for our safety while we stay in the Necropolis.”

They are trustworthy individuals, too.

“Then shall we go?”

With a smile, Francesca began leading the way into the depths of the Necropolis. I grabbed my bag and followed behind her, while Kair and Charnoy kept a wary eye on our surroundings.

Of course, we weren’t just strolling through casually.

“Here, hold this.”

Out of nowhere, a hefty bag was thrust into my arms while we were walking ahead. It was Francesca’s luggage.

When I asked why she was giving it to me, she responded immediately.

“You’re my Colonel right now. Isn’t it normal for a servant to carry their master’s belongings?”

“……”

“Come on, take it. Hurry up.”

I shot Francesca a glare. I thought it was quite a fierce look, but she didn’t seem to mind at all.

Instead, Francesca looked down at me with a deep smile.

“Do you dislike playing the role of my servant? Your glare is rather disrespectful, you know.”

“…We’ll see later.”

In the end, I reluctantly ended up carrying the bag.

A bizarre combination of a pack mule, a mercenary, an assistant, and a magician entered the city of exiles.

I struggled to ascend the troublesome stairs, while Francesca gracefully walked along, starting to take in the sights like someone on a trip.

“The internal informant is currently in the Necropolis. I contacted them just before we left yesterday, so they should still be here.”

According to Francesca, the informant lived in this place.

We intended to infiltrate the Necropolis to track down the cultists who had enlisted the locals.

“But how will you find the cultists?”

Francesca, walking ahead, asked, and I pulled out a small magical tool from my bag and waved it.

“I’ll use this to find them.”

“What is that? It feels like magic, so it must be a magical tool of some sort.”

“It’s a locater.”

The cultist group that blended into the camp had received supplies from Sanya, separate from the fee for illegal entry.

Emergency rations and drinking water for a month, transportation tickets, medical supplies, and so on.

Among those items was a magical tool enchanted to preserve blood for a long time.

“The cultist bought blood transport equipment, but it seems the seller didn’t trust them, so they played a prank. I plan to use this to track their location.”

“I’m not sure how long the magical tool’s battery will last, but that’s not a bad plan. But what’s the detection range? Small magical tools usually have poor performance unless they are high-end or military-grade.”

“Maybe about 50 meters?”

The inferior performance of the magical tool left the educated mage from the Magic Tower in shock.

“What kind of toy is that? 50 meters? That’s absurdly short.”

“That’s how it is with civilian magical tools.”

In any case, the detection range didn’t matter. We still had ways left to find them.

Given the nature of the underground city, air reconnaissance wasn’t possible, but like how assembling is the reverse of disassembling, there’s always a method to everything.

Leading the way, Francesca and I moved quietly forward.

For a city built underground, its scale was quite substantial, so it took a little time.

By the time we wandered through the intricate streets of the Necropolis and finally reached our destination, it was just as Charnoy, burdened with the bag, was about to scream, “My shoulder feels like it’s going to break!”

“We’ve arrived.”

Francesca, lifting the tip of her cape with her finger, spoke up. I lifted my head to look at the building.

“…Is this?”

The building where the guide lived was a shabby house perched on a hillside. The structure seemed so precarious that it felt like it would collapse if the wind blew hard enough.

Now that I looked around, all the surrounding buildings resembled this one. This must be the slum of the Necropolis.

So not all mages lived well. How could people live in a place like this?

It had been a long time since I thought, ‘Can people really live in a place like this?’ It reminded me of the favelas in Rio de Janeiro, somewhere in South America.

After laboriously setting down my bag, I placed a hand on my waist and took a drink of water, while Francesca knocked on the door, avoiding the trash carelessly strewn about the street.

“Is anyone home?”

The response that came was none.

“Maybe they went out. There’s no sign of life.”

“Isn’t there any way to contact them?”

Kair, who had been wetting her hair with a bottle of water, raised her head.

“……”

Pew pew.

The cat ears confined within the keffiyeh moved swiftly, and a beastman, who hadn’t even wiped off the dripping water, quickly sprang into action.

*BOOM!*

A loud bang erupted.

It wasn’t a big explosion. It was just noisy with no shockwave.

Dropping my luggage, I pulled out my pistol. At that moment.

Bang! The door swung open with a loud noise, slamming against the wall.

“…Whew! I almost died!”

A person emerged from beyond the wide-open door.

From the attire, it was clear they were a mage.

The mage, wrapped in a cape, coughed, “Cough cough! Sorry, sorry. I was in the middle of an experiment when you suddenly dropped by… Cough! Ugh… I’m dying here.”

Waving their hands to disperse the smoke, the mage offered apologies, addressing the very front, Francesca.

Brushing off the dust on her clothes, she nodded slightly.

“Apologies aren’t necessary. No one was hurt, so it’s fine. Sorry for interrupting your focus.”

“Cough….”

The mage waved dismissively, saying not to mind it.

The broken flask rolled into a nearby trash pile. The mage pushed aside their disheveled hair and held a cigarette in their right hand—

Wait a minute.

Isn’t that marijuana?

The foul smell wafting from afar was definitely the scent of marijuana. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be real.

Huff—

The mage pinched the weed between their thumb and index finger and took a deep hit. Then, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke, they swayed front to back—no, they staggered.

The heavily stoned mage opened their eyes wide and exclaimed, “Welcome, friends! Glad you made it to the Necropolis!”

“…….”

“…….”

“…….”

Whether they were tipsy from excitement or high from drugs—or maybe a mix of both.

Seeing the staggering mage sway back and forth, the informants were at a loss for words, merely locking eyes with one another.

Day one of infiltrating the Necropolis.

Thus began our encounter with the stoned mage who was our internal informant.

 

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