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The yellow city greets the morning.

Even though the temperature variation in the desert is significant, August isn’t particularly known for drastic changes. After putting on a suitable coat and opening the window, the refreshing traveler who had journeyed through the vast wasteland exchanges the cool air for a deep sleep and departs.

I splash cold water on my face to tidy up my messy appearance.

I pull out a cigarette, once a habit but now a reflex, and light it.

“Ah…”

The smoke rising in the quiet morning is dreamlike. Wrapped in a pale mist, I press the filter to my lips, and the smoke swirling in my mouth leaves a strange aftertaste as it dissipates into the air.

I stub my cigarette in the ashtray and clear my throat. Drunk on the faint drowsiness, I close my eyes and drift into thought.

—

**Episode 17 – The Blood-Drinking Tree**

Even humans, the crown of all creation, have predators. Sometimes, these predators appear donning the masks of religion, race, or nationality. Humanity’s greatest adversary was not beasts or plagues but humanity itself.

The Century Inventor developed a machine gun to end wars, and the great scientist invented the atomic bomb, yet peace remained as distant and perilous as a flower blooming on a precipice.

The war intended to end everything ultimately sowed the seeds for another war, and those seeds grew into a massive tree, swallowing the world. Weapons that once took hundreds of lives with a mere finger-point now have the power to erase human civilization with a single button.

In that light, a mere human smacking the head of the nagging saint was an entirely natural phenomenon, proven by millennia of history.

“Ouch! That hurts…”

With a smack to the top of her head, Veronica raised her voice and gently rubbed her scalp.

“See? Who told you to nag?”

“What kind of small-minded man can’t even take a joke…?”

“I have my feelings too. If you keep spouting nonsense like that, I might just have to turn into a thug myself.”

Should I really beat you up like a thug?

As I clenched my fist and shook it lightly, Veronica turned her head with a huff. The sulky expression on her face left no trace of the saintly demeanor she was supposed to uphold.

“I asked why Raphael sent you here, why are you dodging the question? Are we playing twenty questions now?”

“Colonel, you’ve changed quite a bit while I wasn’t looking… I hope you don’t treat our younger siblings like this too?”

“Of course not.”

“…But why do you only act like this toward me…?”

“You make me angry!”

Everyone loves a star, but if you drive both the father and the underdog crazy, you become a superstar, as the legendary musician once said.

In that context, one could say Veronica isn’t just a star but a superstar. How she can turn kindness into anger with just a single word is astonishing. Watching her mouth move, one could easily understand why the Pope collapsed from high blood pressure.

“Ugh… Enough already.”

Let’s just stop talking. I waved my hand, sporting a tired expression.

Staying close to the sulking Veronica, the atmosphere lightened slightly, and her protruding lips began to retract.

“Do you think this will make me like you?”

“What would you like me to do?”

“…Here.”

With a delicate finger, she pointed at her cheek. There was no need to question what she meant.

The averted gaze and uneven breaths were too overt for me to hesitate in responding.

“Hm, um…”

Veronica gasped in surprise, looking at me with wide eyes, as if she never thought I would actually do it.

Naturally, she wasn’t the type to be satisfied with just that. A strange smile crossed her face, which was usually so prim and proper.

Her outstretched fingers grazed my lips. The finger that temporarily settled on my knee soon began exploring more places. While I had tried to be accommodating, it had crossed the line into scandalous territory, leaving me in shock.

“Ugh…”

“What’s that reaction?”

“No, there’s a limit! Just where are you trying to cross the line…?”

“The central divider? When did we even cross that? Come on, fine! I’ll stop playing around.”

In a show of conceding, Veronica flashed a pleased smile.

—

Among kisses and touches from lips to cheeks and every inch of delicate skin, she finally spoke.

“To be honest… while I’m here under the pretense of dealing with the vampire issue like any other priest, the real reason the old man in the newly established seat sent me here is different.”

The bold blasphemy likening the Pope to an old man was still ongoing.

I pondered Raphael’s intentions sitting across from her, while Veronica crossed her legs and held a cigar.

“Colonel, do you know who the Priest of Al-Yabd is?”

“The priest? Oh, that shaman… can’t say I don’t know.”

The religious and political leader of Al-Yabd, a well-known shaman, held both titles. After all, he’s one of the only two remaining ‘Archmages’ in the world.

To put it in perspective, he was at the same level as Alexandra Petrovna, the Duchess who claimed to be Camila’s master.

And then, as the saint of the cult whispered…

“Well, Al-Yabd has been on poor terms with us, but even those old folks don’t wantonly behave. I was worried the Bishops or Cardinals would start trouble before Lucia got here, but it’s been nearly a month and there haven’t been any significant issues, right?”

“That’s right.”

“The Holy See seems to have decided it’s better to leave the saint alone rather than provoke friction with Al-Yabd. Besides, the Duke has ties to the hero. If anything were to happen, they would use the hero as a scapegoat…”

“Wait, what? Who’s being used as a shield?”

Cutting her off made Veronica pause, and then she started to smile awkwardly.

“…A shield, you say?”

“You just said that!”

“Oh ho ho! Anyone would misunderstand if they heard that~ I’m just saying I’d be borrowing connections to streamline the problem-solving process, not that we’d use the hero as a shield…”

“……”

“It was a certain old man who claimed that.”

Veronica quickly implicated the bishop.

While I pondered how to make the bishop look bad, Veronica cleared her throat and tapped the table, shifting the subject.

“Anyway, we’ll talk about that later… The members of the Order of the Holy Knights who found the vampire brought back information from the cult, right? The Inquisition analyzed it, and it seems rather interesting.”

“What’s this interesting information?”

“I haven’t heard much detail since the analysis is ongoing, but according to the Inquisition Director…”

She leaned back in her chair, took a puff of her cigar.

“The organization that stole Lucia’s blood may have a connection to Al-Yabd.”

Puff! The foggy smoke rose and obscured Veronica’s face.

“Given this, I think I need to investigate personally, don’t you agree?”

—

A new hypothesis had emerged. The cult organization that stole Lucia’s blood, ‘Al Kair,’ may be related to the massive religious group, ‘Al-Yabd.’

At first glance, it might seem preposterous, but it’s not entirely unrealistic.

Arab states fighting like Sunni and Shia often band together against Israel, after all.

Considering incidents where the Iranian Revolutionary Guard, a Shia powerhouse, supports Hamas, which belongs to the Sunni side, and the Turkish government deeply involves itself by sponsoring rebel factions in Syria during the civil war, the possibility of Al-Yabd being linked to the cult is certainly plausible.

However, to understand what exact materials link them and what specific hypotheses were being discussed, I needed to check the Inquisition’s information.

I went to find a collaborator who could help me sneak out materials from the Inquisition.

“Long time no see, Priest Rebecca.”

The former assistant to the Inquisition Director and the saint’s aide, Priest Rebecca, was now in the Mauritania Continent.

“I heard the injury was serious, but it seems you’ve recovered. So you’re out on another assignment.”

“I finished my intensive therapy a while back.”

Priest Rebecca, with her mint-colored hair tucked under her hat, confidently raised her arm.

“I’ve completed rehabilitation and returned to the field.”

The wounds left by the exorcist possessed by a demon had faded significantly. The grievous wounds that had caused her skin to decay and her bone marrow to rot had seemingly miraculously healed.

While the treatment was over, wounds are still scars, which can’t be helped. Staring at the scarred skin, Priest Rebecca smiled brightly and handed me something.

A document envelope.

“Here’s the material you requested.”

“Thank you.”

The one who should receive this is not me, but Director Petrus. Director Petrus asked me to send his regards.

“Is the director safe? I heard he still hasn’t been able to retire. Given his age…”

“The Holy See rejected his resignation, so it’s unavoidable. Still, until a successor is decided, he should be able to carry out his duties without any issues.”

“…Thank you. Please send my regards too.”

Priest Rebecca was someone I had been dealing with for a long time, and she was introduced to me by none other than Director Petrus, making her trustworthy.

After reviewing the internal report from the Inquisition, I reported to Leoni. Just like a company that operates 24/7, it didn’t take long for them to respond.

-‘The cult that stole the Holy Blood is linked to Al-Yabd… That’s not good news.’

“Senior Analyst Larry reviewed the materials and said there’s no loss of credibility. Pippin had the same opinion.”

The opinions of the Military Intelligence Agency analyst and the Royal Intelligence Department analyst matched. The internal report from the Inquisition has some reasonably valid grounds.

In other words, it suggests that Al-Yabd may be somewhat associated with the cult organization ‘Al Kair.’

“Of course, there’s no other evidence to reinforce the information obtained from the cult’s headquarters. The only evidence we have is a few documents stored on the alchemy card, and even the Inquisition has doubts about the effectiveness of the evidence…”

-‘So, the Saint came in person?’

“Yes.”

While the Inquisition’s information network had been mobilized, Raphael was not satisfied with that. The newly inaugurated Pope ordered the Intelligence Department, as well as the Foreign Affairs and Defense Ministries, to secure physical evidence, and even sent Saint Veronica for thorough handling of the situation.

Unlike me, who can verify whatever information the Inquisition collects directly, there’s a significant difference between being shared information and analyzing intelligence myself. Leoni’s thoughts weren’t much different from mine.

-‘Then we must make our move first.’

“Yes, that’s why I’m planning to visit the harbor of the dead whale once more.”

-‘The company will send someone as well.’

Leoni said she would mobilize human resources from the Abas Information Agency to establish an information network in the Necropolis.

I wondered if there was a way to set up an information network since the Nastasia Treaty prevented wizards from being deployed overseas, but I didn’t need to think deeply about it. After all, I was receiving help from Francesca, who wasn’t a wizard.

Of course, there was someone who had helped me infiltrate the Necropolis.

Hoarding wizard Joaquin Goodman. He had lived in the harbor of the dead whale for quite a while.

I needed his help this time too.

“What? You want to go back there again?”

Joaquin, who had fled with us when we escaped the city, was living in a village near the refugee camp.

To be precise, it was a safe house. A house I had secured for him.

“Uh, um… oof- oh, I almost choked on my bread.”

With his cheeks stuffed to the brim, Joaquin looked at me sheepishly, scratching his head.

“Well, you plan to return to the Necropolis? Oh my… that’s quite bold. How could you even think of going back there?”

“It just ended up that way.”

“I don’t know what it is, but I’ll support you, and I’ll pray for your safe return! Just know that if you don’t come back, I will remember you! …But why am I being visited again?”

“I came because I need your help.”

“Ugh—”

Joaquin stuck out his tongue in disgust. It was a bit gross to see a grown man do that.

“You’re not seriously suggesting that I should go back to the Necropolis, are you? No thank you, if we get caught going back now, we might really die!”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I have someone who can vouch for you. If you really don’t want to go, I won’t force you. You just need to provide me with information about the city.”

“Oh, saying that makes me want to go! Let’s head back home!”

“…….”

One minute he said he wouldn’t go, and now he’s saying he wants to. Is he really a weirdo?

It had been more than a week since he quit drugs, yet Joaquin was still not quite right. Was it withdrawal symptoms I wondered.

Anyway.

The company had approved it, and I also found a knowledgeable collaborator for the city. It wouldn’t do to delay, so I needed to hurry up and finish preparations.

Joaquin, who had been excitedly roaming around, suddenly threw a question at me.

“Huh? By the way, who’s vouching for you that you’re going to the city? Normally, you can’t just get in with anyone’s guarantee. Even if you charm a wizard into coming, they wouldn’t let you in.”

I paused on my way out and briefly answered.

“There’s always a way.”

*

“…Yes. Could you create a few identification cards for me? It would also be good to have a letter of guarantee, just in case. I hope it’s not too much trouble for me to ask.”

-‘Not at all. You shouldn’t feel burdened. If we need each other’s help, we should lend a hand, shouldn’t we?’

“Yes, that’s a fair point.”

-‘When you arrive at the harbor, an employee will come to meet you. Also, it would be a bit more comfortable to enter by sea rather than by land. You might get complaints if a vessel with a clearly identified owner gets searched excessively.’

“Thank you for the advice.”

-‘I look forward to seeing you soon. Until then, I’ll take my leave.’

The communication was cut off.

The lines and figures that filled the screen disappeared, and I turned off the power to the decryption equipment.

I had just about finished my preparations to leave for the Necropolis.

“…Uh, Camila. Are you ready?”

I went to check on Camila to see if she was prepared.

Though I wanted to keep her in a safe place as much as possible, considering the nature of the Necropolis where civilians’ activities were restricted, I absolutely needed to take a trustworthy wizard with me.

Given that, Camila was currently the best partner I could choose.

She was a magician, a skilled fighter, friendly, and fluent in languages, making her the perfect candidate for information collection.

“All set!”

Camila shouted with delight as she bounced around with her bag. She looked genuinely excited.

“A city full of wizards…! I never knew there were such places other than the Magic Tower or Ivory Tower!”

“Don’t get your hopes too high. It’s a lawless frontier like the Wild West.”

“Wow! The Wild West! Clint Eastwood! Red Dead Redemption!”

I had thoroughly informed her of the hazards of the Necropolis for cautionary purposes, and even urged her, but it only had the opposite effect.

Wrapped in a blanket, Camila was acting like a cowboy, shrugging her shoulders with a cool demeanor. Seriously, she wasn’t normal either.

After verifying each item she packed, I tried to add anything else needed and remove unnecessary items, but there wasn’t really anything to adjust. Thanks to frequently going on medical missions to the Third World, she seemed to only have packed the essentials.

I guess that’s why the company prefers hiring experienced individuals.

“Get to bed early. We don’t know when we’ll be leaving.”

“Yes!”

After shooing the fidgeting Camila to bed, I returned to my room and checked my equipment.

The night deepened.

It was dawn.

The desert, bathed in hues of sunset, slowly turned deep blue before it sank into darkness. The profoundly dormant wilderness lost its original colors.

I sat quietly in the pale room, staring into the void. The only things filling the empty space were the lights from the screen and the silence.

A gust of wind swept through like a wanderer roaming the desolate lands. It came through the window that I had failed to shut.

Catching the scraps of paper that were fleeing for freedom, I closed the window letting the wind in. Then I pulled the curtains to block out the draft and turned around.

“……”

Someone was sitting in front of my device.

In the pale room, a person was present. It was a scene you might see in a horror film, and I reached for my pistol, but fortunately, I didn’t need to draw it.

I approached her.

“What are you doing here? You surprised me by coming in without a word.”

“……”

“…Francesca?”

The one occupying the chair turned her head.

Lush purple waves cascaded along her shoulders, and her pale eyes glimmered with a faint light, reflecting me back.

“What is it?”

“…Colonel.”

Francesca spoke up.

“I think we need to talk.”

 

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