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“What was that? Do you think we’ll get caught soon?”

“To explain, it’s a bit lengthy.”

As I continued my communication with Camila, the keffiyeh wrapped around my head started to become a nuisance.

Rough hands pulled the fabric down.

The carefully tied shimag unraveled without much resistance. However, a faint sense of unease emerged from the act of loosening the knot, and the dried bloodstains added an inexplicable sense of danger.

“……”

I wiped the blood smeared on the knife with the shimag.

Then, I hurried into the restroom to wash the blood off, quickly scanning the area before grabbing the communication device.

“…Francesca has been spotted.”

—

Episode 17 – The Tree that Drinks Blood

It was an unremarkable task.

I was gathering intelligence on the cultist group that had stolen Lucia’s blood.

The necropolis was a region shrouded in darkness, even for the Royal Intelligence Department, Military Intelligence Agency, and the Inquisition, so the help of a collaborator was not just an option but a necessity. We contacted the ‘Devourer of the Abyss,’ known for its expansive connections at the port of the dead whale.

It was a trivial matter.

A middle stage operation to retrieve the blood and thwart the cultists’ plans.

It was common for intelligence agencies to contact local armed factions while progressing towards their ultimate goals, and I had done it dozens of times myself. Bringing back information obtained by cultists was something I could almost do with my eyes closed.

However,

“Isn’t that Ranieri?”

At the warehouse where we were checking identities before the deal.

A woman lingering near the exit muttered as she gazed at Francesca.

“What, Ranieri? Francesca Ranieri?”

“Yeah, that person over there. That face looks familiar, doesn’t it look like Ranieri?”

The woman turned out to be a magician.

Her tattered and faded clothing resembled rags more than garments, but the hooded cloak was unmistakably a symbol of a magician.

As she chatted with a male magician, presumably part of her group, while smoking by the exit, their eyes were only on Francesca’s back since she had her hat pulled low while passing through the door.

“Is that really Ranieri? I can’t tell just from her back.”

“I saw it clearly.”

The Devourer of the Abyss instructed everyone except the magician with business to wait outside.

As a ‘Kano,’ I had to linger near the exit, providing me the chance to hear the conversation between the two exiles.

“So, what, did you eat something wrong?”

“Why the fuss?”

“Think logically. Why would Ranieri come all the way to the necropolis? There are plenty of people here who hate magic towers. It’d be too dangerous…”

The male magician, with his cape draped over his shoulder, shook his head. He didn’t realize who Francesca was as he scolded the woman.

But the problem was on the woman’s side.

“I swear! I caught a glimpse of her earlier, it was definitely Ranieri!”

The woman magician, characterized by her heavy makeup, claimed that the one who entered the warehouse was Francesca, and she said it with utmost confidence.

Kair began to cast looks. The beastman’s hands, previously pinching his nose to block the smoke, carefully rested on the automatic rifle, and I silently shook my head to deter the information officer.

Even amid this, the exiles’ argument didn’t cease.

The man asserted that they should just leave rather than poke their noses into another exile’s business. The woman stubbornly insisted on waiting to see her come out.

“Did you forget what happened last month? The cultists mistook some innocent noble for a spy sent by the magic tower, and he lost his head in a duel. It was chaos back then, what if we catch another innocent person?”

“We can just sneak a peek at her face!”

“She looked like a rookie to me. Let’s just leave quietly. I’m hungry.”

“Hungry? What a joke; I bet you’re just itching to go back to the cockfighting arena!”

“Hey, I only went because the others wanted to go back then!”

The two sides were at a stalemate.

However, in a lovers’ quarrel, unless there’s a special issue, the woman usually holds the advantage. The man, caught in what seemed like a gambling dispute, finally waved the white flag.

“Fine. We’ll just have a quick look at her face, okay?”

“Yeah—I’ll handle it, so you just watch quietly~.”

“…….”

I swept my arm across with my left hand. Seeing that, Kair, who had been looking my way, disappeared into the alley with his rifle slung over his shoulder.

Then, a moment later.

“I got the information! Following your advice, I got some other intel to avoid suspicion, and Joaquín is wrapping things up, so he’ll be out soon—huh? Where did the Colonel go?”

“He had something to take care of…!”

Just as Francesca exited, I returned to my place after having neatly resolved the issue with Kair.

Having dealt with the risk of suspecting the identity of the information agent and obtained the desired information, all that was left was to return to our hideout.

It should have been that straightforward.

“What the hell—! Guys! We’re all screwed! Some blabbering exile in the warehouse recognized Francesca and squealed!”

Joaquín burst out of the warehouse, clutching his sagging cape.

“What?!”

“Shut up! If we get caught explaining, we’ll get flayed, so just sprint until your feet sweat! Until the eternal snow of Mount Parangasan melts!”

—

We retreated to a shabby abandoned house on the outskirts of the necropolis.

It was a vacant house identified beforehand based on Joaquín’s advice and personal investigation, designated as the regrouping point in case we needed to flee.

While it was confirmed to have been long deserted, there was a chance of encountering a homeless person, so we decided to search the interior before letting the rest of our group inside.

Safety was secured, but nobody dared to loosen their tension. To be precise, we couldn’t afford to.

“…What happened?”

Francesca, adjusting her hat, posed the question. Although not certain, her voice carried a hint of coldness.

“Some idiot recognized you.”

“An exile recognized me?”

“Yeah.”

The nearly dead Joaquín gasped as he spoke.

“Remember that guy we met in the hallway? The bald one, Ivory or Beige, with the weirdly pale face? That guy.”

“…Santino. So it was that guy after all.”

Francesca whispered a name. When I asked who he was, I received the reply that he was a particularly heinous exile.

“He’s a contract killer. Wanted for 37 counts of first-degree murder, and during his arrest, he killed police magicians, leading to his exile.”

From what I gathered, he was quite the infamous wanted criminal among the magic tower folks. It sounded like he could kill anyone without hesitation for the right price, regardless of being a magician or civilian…

“How did that scumbag recognize you?”

Francesca briefly recounted the details, as if there were nothing to hide.

“He possesses detection ability.”

“An ability user?”

Joaquín added.

“While he can’t detect extensive areas like a search spell… if you get close, he can see through disguises. The magical tools can also be seen through eventually; it’s only a matter of time.”

To think there was an ability user in the necropolis, where the exiles gathered.

I expected that someone among the residents might recognize Francesca.

Thus, I had disguised with magical tools and even obtained a forged identification card.

…Damn.

“……”

“……”

Silence fell.

“Sorry, guys. I should’ve been more careful…”

Joaquín, with a joint in his mouth but no flame to light it, repeatedly apologized.

To be honest, I had my suspicions about the stoner magician spilling the beans. The idea of a sudden ability user popping out and seeing through disguises was less plausible than the thought of Joaquín ratting out Francesca.

But, when I thought about it more, he had no reason to betray Francesca.

If Joaquín had genuinely planned to sell her out from the start, he could have ambushed us while we were sleeping or exposed her identity before leaving the warehouse. He wouldn’t have needed to wait for Francesca to join us.

It would have been more efficient to handle us in twos instead of all at once.

It’s a well-known fact, even among thugs who have thrown a few punches, that tearing apart and attacking is the easiest way to go. Francesca doesn’t seem like she’s doubting that.

Lost in thought, I cautiously broke the silence.

“…Let’s do it this way.”

*

For now, the operation was concluded to proceed.

It’s true that Francesca being discovered infiltrating the Necropolis put Joaquin in a precarious position as well.

However, the underground city was spacious enough for five people to hide, and Joaquin’s experience and knowledge remained useful.

“Is there a way to move around the Necropolis?”

“In our current state, it’s absolutely impossible. Both Francesca and I must hide for a while.”

To collect information and gauge the dynamics of the city, someone had to take the risk and venture outside.

Francesca and Joaquin were excluded from that task. Her identification was no longer usable, and Joaquin, who had brought a scout from the Magic Tower into the city, couldn’t just recklessly head outside either.

Thus, the responsibility for information collection and observations naturally fell upon the Information officer.

“I’ll leave it to you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Kair, whose identity wasn’t exposed, could move among us most freely, and as a beastman, he had more mobility than any species other than human magicians.

Kair disguised himself as a mercenary and headed out for reconnaissance. Gathering information from other beastmen, mercenaries, slaves, and magicians was the beastman’s goal.

And the results came back.

“I asked the beastmen.”

“What’s the situation?”

“It seems like there’s no problem for now.”

The overall atmosphere in the Necropolis hadn’t changed much since the morning.

This meant that the Abyssal Devourer hadn’t publicly announced Francesca’s infiltration yet.

Kair couldn’t figure out why the cult organization hadn’t spread the news about a magician from the Magic Tower hiding in the Necropolis.

However, we had a way to understand the cult organization’s intentions.

“It’s because of the festival.”

A resident and collaborator of the Necropolis, Joaquin, gave an explanation about the Abyssal Devourer and the ecosystem of the underground city.

“A festival is coming soon. It’s an event to commemorate the founding of the Necropolis.”

“A commemorative event?”

“Yes, like a national holiday or a constitution day.”

The festival celebrating the birth of the Necropolis. It was an event the locals referred to as ‘Walpurgis Night.’

Joaquin continued with a slightly cheerful voice.

“It’s a very important anniversary! For the exiles and cultists, it’s a joyous festival, and on that day, anyone can eat and drink until their bellies are full.”

“Is the Walpurgis Night festival that valuable? Is it important enough for you to hide the information about a magician sneaking in?”

“Of course!”

As a former assistant to the head of the Counterintelligence Department, his remark puzzled me a bit, but Joaquin shook his head as if I didn’t know what he was talking about.

The current drug lord stared at me seriously.

“Walpurgis Night isn’t just a simple festival. It’s a monumental day celebrating the birth of a city that allows the homeless to stay comfortably. But if problems arise right before the festival, what will happen?”

If news of a magician from the Magic Tower invading the Necropolis got out on the city’s anniversary, it meant public uproar.

The theme of the explanation shifted to the connection between the festival and the regime. To summarize Joaquin’s long explanation:

“The Necropolis may look like a single city, but inside, countless people coexist. Exiles, cultists, adventurers, smugglers….”

“The city is a medium that binds together diverse groups. But if one group holds power, they can kick out those they don’t like, right?”

“So exiles or cultists manage their respective streets independently. The 6th street of the Ash Tree is occupied by the Blind Snake, while the 8th street is taken by the Abyssal Devourer. However, encroaching on another’s territory is strictly forbidden. Any major issues in the city get resolved in a meeting with representatives of the various groups.”

“Walpurgis Night has had its organizers chosen through a lottery every year. By the way, the ones in charge this year are the Abyssal Devourers.”

In short, they decided to hide the problem since they needed to prevent accidents during their own event.

Joaquin explained that groups that reveal weaknesses in the Necropolis quickly become prey. The logic of the survival of the fittest always favors the strong.

“Joaquin. You said the Abyssal Devourer wouldn’t hesitate to deal with the cultists, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve heard about their rivalry with the Blind Snake, so let’s skip that. How many people actually dislike them?”

“A lot! The merchants are annoyed because they monopolize sea routes, driving up prices, and the fishermen get angry when they block their departures without paying rent. As for the exiles… they all hate the cultists!”

“When is the festival?”

“Wait a second. What day is it today…? The event is on Saturday, but the festive atmosphere will start around Friday night. The guy from next door said he’d drop by for dinner, so we agreed to meet at the Bald Mountain inn.”

“Friday, huh.”

Today’s Wednesday.

The city would begin to soak in the festival mood in two days.

Joaquin, who had been smoking a joint in the dust, suddenly jumped up and shouted.

“…Right! The arena opens that day, and I got completely forgetful!”

“To think of gambling in this situation, you’re out of your mind…!”

As Joaquin’s scream echoed, Charnoy started twirling his finger around his head, pointing it at him.

“…….”

I lit a cigarette and fell into thought.

Once I grasped the city’s inner workings, I could roughly calculate how the Abyssal Devourers would act in the future. They would likely search for Francesca quietly until the Walpurgis Night ended.

If that’s the case, we need to strike the cultists before the festival wraps up.

Checking the information Francesca brought, I picked up the mobile phone and stepped out of the abandoned house.

And a little later.

-‘Hello?’

“Camila.”

I reached her.

*

The screen of the now-disconnected mobile phone turned black.

With a soft slither, the window slowly descended.

As the vehicle took off, all that remained in the desert was the tire-tracked sand and the mobile phone.

The noise of the gravel road and the sound of the air conditioning cooling down the heated air.

And from the passenger side came a voice.

“Yes, Commander. I just received the coordinates.”

A man with a deep voice spoke into the radio.

“I will definitely retrieve the holy blood.”

In the back seat, there were men with their hands clasped together in prayer.

“Then, we will see you at the Holy Land.”

Click.

As the communication ended, the men lowered their hands. The sound of body armor clashing with weapons filled the air.

The man in the passenger seat gazed around the procession.

The dark wasteland seemed eerily calm, not reflecting its grand scale.

Sand pattered against the glass, obscuring the view, as the wasteland passed by like a panorama.

The pattern of the combat uniform was not much different from the scenery outside.

-Press.

The man in the passenger seat reached for the radio and pressed it.

“…Grigori-6 transmits to all Grigori.”

The convoy coursing through the wasteland.

The vehicle, filled with soldiers, advanced through the darkness of the desert, carrying Ibrahim’s voice through the radio hidden in his body armor.

“Prepare for combat.”

 

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