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Numerous masterpieces had brought forth the glorious era known as the Renaissance, just before the dawn of this magnificent time. The architectural style that represented the late medieval period in Europe was Gothic.

Developing and perfecting Romanesque architecture, Gothic style led church constructions to a golden age—Saint-Denis Cathedral, Notre-Dame Cathedral, and even the Milan Cathedral, which combined with the Lombard style.

Tall buildings with pointed spires stretching towards the blue sky give an impression of verticality.

The luxurious decorations, rich and refined beauty, grand sizes, and the dazzling brilliance of the interior illuminated by multicolored light will make you realize how Gothic architecture captured the hearts of Europeans.

And here is a Gothic structure armed with extravagance and grandeur.

The Holy Land Lateran, known as the heart of the cult. The council chamber located at the center of this heart.

High-ranking decision-makers of the Inquisition and the War Ministry gathered in one place.

Those gathered before the huge map discussed methods. How to retrieve the Saint’s blood. How to deal with the cultists.

Amidst the discussions, a priest entered the conference room silently and began to whisper in the ear of an old man.

“Chief, we’ve received a call on line 8.”

As a wrinkled hand was raised, the voices faded away. The officials from the Inquisition and War Ministry ceased talking and looked at the old man.

“…Hmm. I see. Let’s discuss the details later.”

The old man set down the receiver, and the priest held the phone on a silver tray.

After finishing the call, the old man sat down and pulled the chair closer. He lifted a glass of water from the table to moisten his dry mouth. The people gathered in the conference room watched the old man’s actions and waited for his words.

Finally.

“Contact His Holiness the Pope.”

Petrus opened his mouth.

“We have received intelligence that a cultist has been located.”

Episode 17 – The Tree That Drinks Blood

“Have you been able to catch some sleep, Colonel?”

His previously tired gaze softened into a gentle curve. Perhaps it was thanks to finally getting a proper rest.

With a bright smile on her face, Francesca greeted me in the morning.

“I managed a little nap.”

As I replied while rubbing my face, laughter mixed into the conversation. Francesca wore a radiant smile. Her expression was so bright that it was annoyingly cheerful.

She met me at the door, stirring her mug as she started to speak.

“Contrary to what you said, you look very tired. Did you have trouble adjusting to the different bedding?”

“I appreciate the concern, but… did you really have to pull this prank?”

I glanced at Francesca, tapping the door lightly with the back of my hand, my eyes filled with displeasure.

An inappropriate sign was stuck to the old door that was emanating a musty smell.

[Room where Francesca’s attendant stays.]

Francesca looked at the fluttering paper and chuckled.

“What’s wrong? It’s an undeniable fact. Colonel, you are currently my attendant.”

“Oh, come on.”

I snatched the sign and crumpled it in my hand. Since it was made of paper, I didn’t even need to exert much effort.

Still, my actions seemed amusing, as Francesca started to laugh joyfully.

Her radiant smile frustrated me even more. I crumpled the paper tightly, murmuring in exasperation.

“Attendant, my foot…”

Dressing up as an attendant to infiltrate the Necropolis was one of my most regrettable choices.

Francesca discovered this ridiculous material and started teasing me relentlessly. When we first set off from the border, she was relatively quiet, but ever since we arrived here, she had been insufferable.

“Where did you learn such a mischievous joke?”

Wiping the moisture from the corners of her eyes, Francesca smiled.

“Who do you think I learned it from?”

“Saint Veronica?”

No surprise there. It’s evident that no one other than Veronica would pull such pranks.

I wondered what kind of antics two sisters would engage in that they’d share such bad habits, but there was no need to find out. I didn’t even want to know.

My expression must have been quite something. With her cheerful demeanor, Francesca scrutinized my face.

As her violet eyes scanned my features, she suddenly burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.

“You certainly look displeased, Colonel! How about it? Should I offer you a chance to get back at me?”

“…You’ll regret it.”

“Would merchants sell their goods at a loss? They despise losing more than anyone else.”

“……”

“Anyhow, since you’re going to be my attendant for a while, I’d appreciate your cooperation?”

“…Let’s talk about that later.”

I won’t let this slide. I will take my revenge.

I’ll definitely get back at her.

*

Step one was a success.

The location of the cultists had been transmitted to the cult through unofficial channels. The Inquisition received the report, and the Holy See issued a decree to exterminate the cultists.

However, there were still a few issues to address.

First, the exact location of the cultists had not been confirmed.

The tracking device’s signal pointed to a specific area, but the signal was being emitted from the very center of a massive city.

Though it was called a city, it resembled a slum more than anything.

The city of lawbreakers was just as shattered as the sense of lawful behavior, and decades of reckless construction and expansion filled the cramped underground spaces with buildings.

A complex labyrinth reminiscent of favelas.

The location from which the signal was emitted was right there.

“Now that we have a rough idea of the location, let’s find out their hideout. Thanks to the narrowed search range, it should be much easier.”

“Are you going to do the search yourself this time?”

“Of course. It’s not something I can entrust to others.”

I decided to personally track the cultists.

After all, even if I uncovered their base, I needed to gather intelligence to provide to Ibrahim. It would be easier to do it myself.

While searching for their hideout, Kair and Charnoy began information collection. Disguised as mercenaries and wizard’s aides, they scoured the Necropolis for information related to the cultists.

By the way, Francesca accompanied me due to a regulation stating that anyone without a pass must be accompanied by a guarantor.

“Is there such a regulation?”

“I didn’t know either, but Joaquin informed me. He said the Al-Yabd Inquisition’s surveillance made certain regulations a bit stricter.”

Of course, these strict rules didn’t apply to Kair and Charnoy.

Kair and Charnoy were currently employed by wizards as mercenaries and aides, and in the Necropolis, where the expelled wizards resided, these roles accounted for more of the population than actual wizards.

Even if that weren’t the case, there was no reason for the Necropolis to restrict mercenaries and aides. They turned a blind eye because they didn’t want to deal with interference. If a wizard had someone to command, other wizards would be the same. Ultimately, they probably released the restrictions out of annoyance.

The issue was,

“But Colonel, you have to stay with me.”

“…Why am I the only one receiving these regulations?”

“Well, that’s because you’re currently an attendant, right?”

In the dual-natured magic society that harbors both conservatism and progress, attendants were not treated as independent entities, but as tools of wizards.

So it’s like that old situation. Before Lincoln declared the emancipation of slaves in 1863, blacks were not regarded as human beings.

“An attendant is a subordinate, and in the world of wizards, a subordinate is akin to a slave. They aren’t hired workers with contracts.”

Upon hearing Francesca’s explanation of the magical society’s slave system, expletives nearly slipped my tongue.

“How is that even possible? Slavery has been abolished for 150 years!”

“If everything were to flow according to the law, there’d be no reason for judicial institutions to exist, right?”

Francesca summarized the magical society’s slavery system.

“Of course, the magic towers and the Ivory Tower officially do not recognize the existence of slavery. It’s legally prohibited. But in the shadows, many people still receive treatment akin to that of slaves. In regions with lax surveillance, in backward countries, in the Necropolis, university labs….”

“The university? That’s genuinely slavery…”

“So I told you. A subordinate, right? You, Colonel, are not an employee but a slave?”

“Hey!”

I immediately demanded a change of status to that of a free person, but the ‘slave’ designation was already stamped on my pass.

There was no way now to break through to a new status, and there was no way to obtain a forged identification.

In the end, I had no choice but to begin my life as a slave.

*Ding ding!*

“Could you bring me some water? Something nice and cool.”

Realizing I couldn’t break free from the attendant status, Francesca began to work me hard.

“Fetch me water. Carry my luggage. Go buy me some goods.”

Even,

“Ah, my legs are tired…”

“……”

“I wish someone would massage my legs.”

Just three hours into my new life as a slave, I was already tasting all kinds of misery that existed in the world.

Sitting on the ground, rubbing my calves after placing a load on the bench, I couldn’t help but question if this was why I joined the Information Agency.

The funny thing was, I wasn’t the only one doing this nonsense.

The Necropolis, where the exiles lived, had quite a number of slaves. Whether they’d been kidnapped from somewhere or if there was a slave market, I couldn’t tell, but wizards here always seemed to have one or two subordinates at their beck and call.

Observing the streets closely, I began to get a rough estimate. Those adorned in flashy fashion were either the wealthy or wizards, while those looking like Afghan rural farmers were the slaves.

I realized there was a kind of class hierarchy forming in the Necropolis.

If wizards were like the Brahmins and Kshatriyas of India, then slaves were akin to the Sudras. In other words, the untouchables.

Me, an untouchable! There’s a bottom level even lower than this.

As I was struggling to rub my calves while sweating profusely, memories from my business trip to India flashed through my mind like a slideshow.

As I compared the past of sleeping and eating in an amazing hotel in New Delhi to my present of sitting on the dirt floor of the Necropolis, massaging Francesca’s legs, a wave of misery washed over me.

F***ing wizards and capitalists. Bourgeoisie trading labor for capital.

Ah, Marx, you were right. Capitalists exploit workers’ labor. And these bastards don’t even pay wages while making me work, damn.

Capitalism is indeed contradictory.

Why the hell did Gorbachev dismantle the Soviet Union? If the country was on the verge of collapse, he should have come here.

Why is it that only Soviets can’t make it to this district where Brits and Koreans come?

Reflecting on the value of labor, I felt my mindset shift. It was like my blood was turning red in real time.

Having finally transformed into a semi-communist, I discovered the strange principle that the more surplus value increases, the redder the blood of the workers becomes.

Then I suddenly realized something.

“…Huh?”

Isn’t a slave who can’t even receive wages while massaging Francesca’s shoulders quite similar to an information officer getting a low salary while conducting espionage?

My blood-red consciousness started churning anew.

The Abas government was exploiting my labor! These bastards were in cahoots too. I had recognized it exactly when those nobles and royals were still around.

Isn’t it actually alright to fully transition to communism now?

Even I think this is a pretty ridiculous thought.

“Are you feeling unwell? Your expression seems unsettled. What are you thinking about?”

“Don’t talk to me, bourgeoisie.”

“…Huh?”

While I diligently catered to Francesca as her attendant, my mind went on a rollercoaster ride of madness.

The shock of being a slave, combined with the fatigue of physical labor, sent my sanity spiraling.

As I simultaneously experienced the despair of African American cotton-picking slaves and the longing of communist guerrillas dreaming of revolution, lunchtime rolled around.

It was about time Kair and Charnoy would be returning, and we needed to head back to our collaborator’s place.

So we returned to our residence.

Just as Charnoy was rummaging through the fridge for food, some valuable information came from the internal collaborator.

“Hey? You guys are looking for cultists? Then you should head to Ash Tree Alley. All the cultists live there.”

This was information that could help pinpoint the cultists’ location. Although it wasn’t an exact location, it was still a piece of information that could lead to a rough guess.

H Joaquin, who had pulled out a map of the Necropolis from a half-buried bag under the bed, pointed with his dark finger to a certain area.

“Is this correct?”

I combined the characteristics of the place where the signal had been emitted yesterday with Joaquin’s testimony and concluded that the ‘Ash Tree Alley’ he mentioned was exactly where the signal had originated.

What? I went through all that trouble for nothing.

If I had known this information yesterday, there would have been no need to wander the alleys on tired legs.

“…Why are you telling me this only now?”

In utter disbelief, I interrogated Joaquin, to which he gave a ridiculous response.

“You never asked. If you were new in the city, you should have told the guide.”

“……”

It was because you were puffing weed and lying around, so I couldn’t ask, you idiot. I wanted to unload a barrage of curses on him, but somehow, I managed to hold back.

With a loud *thunk*, Joaquin sprang off the couch, suddenly starting to look for a tray. The kind of tray used to roll joints, that is.

Getting up after sleeping until eleven, and the first thing on his mind was a tray? Is he out of his mind?

*Sigh* “Aah… right here…”

Regardless of whether someone he didn’t know watched or not, the stoner grinned while rolling the paper. With the tray resting on his knee, his careful rolling of the joint was quite a sight to behold.

Keen took a deep breath and then let out a cloud of smoke, starting to explain without any context.

“Do you know why they call it Ash Tree Alley?”

Kair, who had been pinching his nose due to the awful smell, shook his head.

“No idea.”

“Fear not, for kind-hearted me shall explain!”

It’s said that the name for Necropolis often derives from natural objects. There’s a story tied to the founding of the city.

Given that it’s an underground city, the environment of Necropolis could only be artificially created.

The first exiles who set up shop poured immense effort into transforming the desolate underground city into a place that felt warm and inviting, and later, when Necropolis was officially established, the streets were named after natural features as a tribute to the exiles’ hard work in cultivating the city.

The explanation that started with the origin of the street names shifted to a different topic. With a spitting sound, Joaquin expelled the remnants of marijuana from his tongue and began to elaborate on Ash Tree Alley.

“Ash Tree Alley is just a name; there’s no actual tree there. Well, there used to be an outcast tree a few years back, but it’s gone now.”

It was just a casual remark about a tree that had been there and then disappeared.

Suddenly curious about the cause of the tree’s disappearance, my head started to throb after I heard the reason.

“Why did the tree vanish? It was because of complaints!”

“C-complaints…?”

“Yup! The cultists used to hold rituals at the Ash Tree every month. They said it was a divine tree imbued with powerful energy. But then one day, the money-hungry magicians protested, and boom, the tree got uprooted.”

How ridiculous that the disappearance of the tree was the cultists’ fault.

While chopping the marijuana leaves with his razor, Joaquin swayed amusingly.

“Well, whether they prayed or held rituals, frankly, I didn’t care much, but I guess it annoyed the others.”

“Did the magicians dislike religion?”

“Well, that’s one reason. There are Inquisition Officers around here. Anyway! The folks here are super allergic to religion.”

Lighting up the marijuana, Joaquin began to rummage through his memories with an uncontrollable grin as if he was fighting to suppress laughter.

“Can you believe they fought over that tree for months? The cultists revered it as a divine tree while the magicians were cursing it, complaining about how noisy the prayers were. The cult and Al-Yabd were supposedly thriving under the celestial and Earth gods, but those guys just lay around praying in the underground. They even said if they wanted to practice religion, they should go above ground and evangelize first.”

“So, what happened next?”

“Well, the magicians, after holding it in, hired orcs to cut down the tree! The cultists climbed the tree and held their ground for a while. I think it dragged on for about six months? In the end, the tree was indeed uprooted, though.”

By the time the explanation ended, I couldn’t help but marvel at the absurd tale involving the clash between the religious and the magicians.

A flood of complaints from criminals and a protest from cultists? What a ridiculous scenario.

It was truly a heart-thumping combination. Necropolis was shaping up to be a far more ridiculous city than I imagined.

I had no desire to remain in such a ridiculous place, nor did I have a penchant for spending time in gloomy tunnels, so I resolved to leave this place as quickly as possible. Kair and Charnoy silently agreed with my thoughts.

“Thank you for the explanation. It was interesting. Now we’ll be taking our leave.”

Evading Joaquin, who was lost in haze, we swiftly packed our bags and began to plot our escape.

Just then, Joaquin, still high, suddenly shot up.

“Where are you going?”

“I just need to step outside for a bit.”

“Come with me! I ran out of pasta the other day and need to shop!”

“……”

There was really no need to follow. Couldn’t he just stay home and smoke some weed?

I didn’t want to drag a stoner around as a sidekick. A sidekick, my foot. Isn’t it better for everyone if Joaquin just gets lost in his own high?

Desperate to plead my case, I tried, but it was pointless. Joaquín had already dashed out of the house.

Wearing a stretched-out shirt and a shabby coat, he, perhaps still groggy, was holding his shoes in his hands. His socks didn’t match, and even the “decent-looking” coat was worn inside out.

“…Francesca.”

“Yes?”

“Can I shoot just one round?”

“No.”

“One round. I swear just one round would do.”

“Ugh…!”

Francesca shook her head firmly, stopping my hand.

*

Addicted to weed and alcohol, Joaquin was a person with all sorts of vices, but surprisingly, he was a decent guide.

“Where we are now is Evening Primrose Square! The name comes from the evening primroses planted around the fountain.”

“That over there is Purslane Street! A while back, there were plenty of vegetable plots, labeled as agricultural zones, but someone planted a vine, and now the name has changed. All the crops were wiped out. The one who planted the vines got hung by a bunch of people.”

His first impression was quite strong, but Joaquin was indeed a resident of this city.

Living here and experiencing it first-hand could not be compared to mere knowledge gathered from documents or rumors.

“If it’s your first time in Necropolis, visiting places like the Moon Pearl Hill or the Deep Well is a must! Or the port where goods come and go is nice too!”

Joaquin waved his arms vigorously as he moved forward.

We started to roam the streets of Necropolis, following the local.

“Okay! Where shall we go first?”

Joaquin asked with a big grin, clearly wanting to show us around the city, yet we already had a specific destination in mind.

“Ash Tree Alley.”

I took out a map marked with the signal location and showed it to Joaquin.

“Lead the way.”

“Uh? This town is a no-go zone for me…”

“Why not?”

“It’s a shady place.”

I questioned Joaquin’s sudden change in attitude as he checked the map and waved his hands dismissively.

“Didn’t you promise to guide us?”

“I never said I would guide you! Explaining and guiding are two different things!”

“……”

As Joaquin began to shudder in fear, I quietly handed him a stack of cash.

“Here’s an advance payment. If you guide us, I’ll double your reward.”

“Whoa…!”

Joaquin snatched the cash and his eyes lit up. He was a complete 180 from just a moment ago when he was trying to back off.

Removing the rubber band, he unrolled the bills to check their amount, his expression turning serious, and he awkwardly saluted.

“……”

“Aren’t you going to accept my salute? That’s a bummer…”

“…Who salutes with their left hand?”

With his left hand awkwardly lowered, Joaquin scratched his cheek.

“Uh… Saluting is done with the right hand, right…?”

You’re a draft dodger, aren’t you?

Yeah, actually, you’re exempt. I kind of figured as much.

Forget what I just said. What kind of crazy army would take a stoner? Maybe a warlord would, but I can confidently say that this guy hasn’t even set foot in basic training.

“……”

“Hehe….”

I shook my head at Joaquin’s goofy grin. He may be foolish, but what can I do? I need to make use of him.

As he sniffled, the stoner began to explain while tracing the map. Naturally, being a stoner, he didn’t stick to just explaining, but instead ran around, raising his voice.

“Ash Tree Alley is home to many cultists! The scrutiny of the Tribunal and Religious Police is intense! There aren’t many groups that can operate openly on the surface! They either hide in remote areas or underground. The friends who opted for the latter came down here!”

The residents of Necropolis shouted the names of cult organizations that had settled in Ash Tree Alley.

“Blind Snake! They’ve become the strongest faction in Ash Tree Alley! That neighborhood you went to yesterday is their turf!”

Blind Snake, huh.

I quickened my pace, muttering.

“I feel like I’ve heard that name somewhere.”

“Maybe you saw it in the news? Blind Snake has their cult on the surface.”

“Do cultists who have a base on the surface even set foot in Necropolis?”

“Information!”

Joaquin grinned, revealing his teeth.

“I told you there’s a lot of cultists here! So many groups that usually operate on the surface come here too. They exchange gossip and news!”

Of course, other motives are likely at play. Cultists wouldn’t just gather to swap information.

“Any other reasons?”

“Other than information, it’s probably about expanding their influence! Surface organizations are stronger than underground ones, right? The stronger ones swallow the weaker ones and grow larger!”

It’s a survival of the fittest.

Now I’m starting to grasp what kind of city Necropolis really is.

We quickly made our way to Ash Tree Alley. Once we entered the vicinity, Joaquin, wiping the sweat from his clothes, slowed his pace and lowered his voice.

“…Ugh. Now that I see, this is Blind Snake’s territory. Let’s turn back.”

“Do we really need to go around?”

“Of course! Blind Snake hates it when outsiders poke around.”

I pondered why those guys had been quiet the day before.

I asked Joaquin if he knew anything about the cultists’ news. He chuckled softly, shrugging his shoulders.

“Of course I know! As a resident of Necropolis, you can’t help but know. I’ll share that story a bit later… Now, where was I? Oh!”

Turning, Joaquin started to stroll along the outskirts of Ash Tree.

Looking at the map, I noticed he was heading in the opposite direction from our destination.

“Where are you going?”

“Just wait a second. Hold on.”

He didn’t seem to pay any attention to my words.

As Joaquin moved along the periphery, he began to knock on the walls of the buildings. As if searching for a hollow space.

He pressed his ear against the wall, furrowing his brow and muttering.

“If Blind Snake is the strongest in the neighborhood, then there must be a second-in-command. I’m looking for the second most prominent crew in Ash Tree Alley.”

“Who would that be?”

“Abyssal Devourer. They worship the sea. If you head there, you’ll hear news about the organization you’re looking for.”

Worshiping the sea shouldn’t earn them the label of a cultist. They’re likely a place that prays to a marine monster or some strange deity.

“Would those Abyssal Devourers know the cultists’ whereabouts?”

“Of course! They’re well connected. They know where they live, where they come from, what their specialties are, and even how many forks they have at home. They might not know who you’re searching for, but if you need information, it’s best to meet these folks.”

Joaquin’s sudden eagerness to find cultists was suspicious (mainly due to his mental state), but I decided to just watch him, thinking he might have a plan of his own.

As Kair drew his assault rifle and Francesca stood with her back to the wall, scanning the street, suddenly…

“…Ah!”

Joaquin knocked on a brick house, shouting with delight.

He waved his hand at us, exclaiming.

“Found it! Over here!”

Where is that?

As I was about to ask, Joaquin’s body began to be pulled into the brick house.

“What the…?”

“Haaah…!”

“Hiieeek!?”

Terror-stricken screams erupted from everywhere.

Kair quickly climbed the wall, hissing, while Charnoy cried out, “The building has eaten him!”

In the midst of the chaos, even as he was slowly disappearing, Joaquin was laughing heartily.

“Haha! Don’t be scared! Just come on, you guys! It’s safe in here!”

If you’re going to say that, at least stop smoking weed first…

My words didn’t reach Joaquin’s ears, as his figure vanished behind the brick structure, prompted by a crow’s nest of hair.

For a while, we all stared at the now-empty spot where Joaquin had been pulled into the brick house.

“……”

“…Francesca?”

Francesca, who had been standing still, turned to me.

With a serious expression, she finally spoke.

“I don’t know what kind of magic that is. Since I don’t sense any magic, it might be a biological trap or a stealth barrier…”

“Hey, we don’t need a magic lecture right now.”

I pointed at the brick house where Joaquin had disappeared and said to Francesca.

“I was just about to say we should go in first.”

“……”

In an instant, three pairs of eyes turned to me, furrowing their brows.

Human, beastman, nymph. Everyone was staring at me as if I were a piece of rotten food.

But I wouldn’t cower at such gazes. I stood firm and yelled.

“Ladies first.”

“……”

“……”

“……”

The gazes grew even more serious. Now it almost looked like they were seeing something less than human.

Finally, I decided to tuck my tail in.

“…Fine. I’ll go in. I will.”

Like a prisoner being led to execution, feeling like an ant caught in a stock market scam, or like a jaguar shot in the heart of the Deity—ah, maybe that one doesn’t fit.

Anyway, I approached the brick house with a face that might as well have been drawn on with a crayon.

Moments later.

The world turned upside down.

 

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