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Everything in the sky melted away, just like the fruits of the trees withering and falling. The fine crystals that descended from the heavens devastated the land.

A wasteland littered with the corpses of monsters. The melted chunks of flesh, unable to be removed in time, had hardened stiffly, resembling wax.

Amidst the hideous scent emanating from the grotesque faces and bodies of death, like a candle left burning halfway, a woman was wandering through.

As she ascended the serene sand dunes, her purple hair, reminiscent of velvet, danced in the breeze.

Turning her head in the direction of the fluttering locks, a stone that looked like a cliff glimmered and opened its eyes!

From the sunken eye sockets, a sludge of dark green liquid dripped incessantly.

-Crack!

The grotesque head, all melty and misshapen, split open diagonally. With a thud, the movement ceased, and a leisurely death gave the severed head a nudge into the sandy ground.

The rolling head of the monster revealed a clean-cut gash. Green magic power billowed like a mirage from the blade, strange runes etched along the rugged surface.

“…Hmm.”

Francesca, having neatly finished off the monster with a single stroke, shook the blood from her rune blade with a flourish.

“Are you alright, Commander?”

“Yes— I’m fine, as you can see.”

The sorcerers of the Magic Tower, who had been startled by the sudden ambush, cast worried glances, but Francesca showed no sign of concern.

The residual magic on the blade burned away the tainted fabric, and as the sword turned effortlessly, it transformed into a short dagger. Having dealt with the monster as if it were second nature, Francesca, as the representative leader of the Magic Tower, quickly took follow-up actions.

“Neutralize the alchemical substances left behind from the colossal monsters at the bombing site, and if there are any contaminated areas, purify them promptly.”

“Most of the monsters were cleared out by two rounds of government airstrikes, but a few stragglers seem to remain. The Peacekeeping Force is on guard, so before the administrators start the byproduct extraction, please be sure to relay the precautions and oversee.”

“According to the recent news sent by the Mauritania Embassy, the refugees from various places seem to be passing through here to head to the refugee camp. If you come across any groups presumed to be refugees, you must hand them over to the Peacekeeping Force. While it wouldn’t be an issue to hand them over to the government army according to regulations… it’s advisable to go through the Peacekeeping Force for the sake of the refugees’ lives.”

Episode 17 – The Tree That Drinks Blood

Among the quartet centered around Camila, the title most often used by the public to refer to Francesca is “Alchemist.”

There are several reasons for this.

Firstly, the influence of her ancestors was substantial.

The founding ancestor of the Ranieri family, like the Duke of the Northern Regions, was a master of elemental magic and a pioneer of modern alchemy, regarded as the father of alchemy, revered by every intellectual exploring the field.

Although the Ranieri ancestor did not formally establish an alchemical school, he was a founding member and executive of the Magic Tower’s alchemy faction, achieving remarkable advancements in alchemy. Thus, it was natural for the legacy of the ancestor to influence the perceptions of society regarding their descendants.

And above all, is she not an alchemist herself?

Though she was listed under the Elemental faction, no one overlooked her talent.

Whether she inherited the blood of her ancestors or possessed innate skill and ability, she stirred the seasoned professors of the Magic Tower and the dignified scholars of the Ivory Tower like teenage boys and girls, with her genius.

“The alchemy of the Magic Tower is a twisted discipline of magical engineering, and we must return to the source and pursue pure alchemy,” they firmly believe, acknowledging even the red desert’s alchemist.

As for her personal strength? Just from testimonies of how she fought against the legions of monsters with her sword imbued with blue magic, and how she united with her colleagues to eliminate the demon that descended upon the current world.

The achievements of vanquishing demons were directly proclaimed by the Pope and the Crown Prince of the Empire, making them an indisputable reality.

Having developed weapons capable of exterminating the monsters of Mauritania, which had half-abandoned international support, she rescued millions of citizens in the Northern Regions from the demon’s clutches.

“What is the alchemist doing? Is she deep in thought?”

“Her serious expression indicates it must be something major.”

“Then it shouldn’t be something trivial, right?”

It was entirely natural for everyone to cast expectant glances at her, who they called “the Alchemist.”

Of course, Francesca wasn’t thinking of anything at all.

“Ahh.”

Stepping out onto the terrace, she enjoyed the warm, dry breeze wrapping around her skin and stretched out. Like a cat, Francesca arched her back elegantly, taking a deep breath as she leaned her weight onto the railing.

Simply leaning against the railing was enough to create quite the picturesque scene.

Slightly resting her chin in a moment of languor made her look oddly graceful. Her tired, slightly drooped eyes appeared beautifully thin and limber.

Francesca exhaled a breath that could be mistaken for a sigh or a lament into the clouds. She then rested her chin on her hand and mumbled softly.

“I wonder if they’re doing alright….”

It had already been four days since the colonel went outside with the hero. The time taken for travel and the complications in resolving various matters must have extended.

Four days is ample for starting something, but utterly insufficient for resolving anything. Therefore, it seemed that the days without the departed individuals would stretch out for a little longer as well.

Thus, the increasing exhaustion Francesca felt recently was a byproduct of the effort to fill the absence of the two.

Over the past year, the diplomatic/military/security international collaboration, which was essential for their group’s activities, had largely been handled by Frederick.

Of course, she wasn’t ignorant of the international cooperation field, but why impose the burden on one individual when everyone could do what they excelled at?

After all, he was both affiliated with the Ministry of Defense and a diplomat. More importantly, Frederick had access to far more varied information than she did, being a member of the Information Agency.

Even if those aspects might come with somewhat illegal and diplomatic issues.

“……”

However, with him, who was supposed to be tackling significant responsibilities, now absent, it led to more than a few headaches.

There were border patrol officers who covertly abandoned refugees in No Man’s Land just because they didn’t want to accept them, nomads clamoring for compensation because their livestock had died due to artillery fire in a military operation area they had wandered into, and people demanding to be let in, throwing tantrums at the quarantine-stricken refugee camp due to the infection—among others.

Some were human, and some were non-human races, but all were nothing short of a headache. Adding serious corruption and the nonchalant attitudes of local civil servants into the mix truly created chaos.

In some ways, this was an even bigger problem than the hero missing, who was one pillar of power. Wars don’t happen every day, but incidents and accidents can easily occur just by breathing.

Yet, it wasn’t feasible to ask Saint Lucia, who was taking care of nearly a thousand patients a day, for assistance. What to do? If there are no teeth, one must use gums; if there’s a lack of water, one must squeeze even a dry towel.

“Ha….”

A worried sigh escaped her yet again, but it wasn’t a lament about her circumstances.

No matter how tiring work was, how could it only be people risking their lives doing it?

Thus, Francesca’s sigh carried a tone of concern rather than of complaint. What if they had run into a troublesome situation?

However.

“……”

Staring at the crystal orb that hadn’t rung for four days, she felt an inexplicable annoyance.

Yet today, something felt different.

-Flutter.

The gray crystal brightened, infused with blue hue, and Francesca’s lips parted slightly, letting out an uncertain sigh.

They say that if you speak of werewolves, they come. This person doesn’t seem to be a gentleman either.

“Yes, I got the call.”

-“Oh. Francesca, you still haven’t clocked out yet?”

“I have a bit of work left. What about you?”

-“I just—”

Suddenly, there was a commotion on the other end of the line.

Ah, come on! Stay quiet! With all that talk about savagery and barbarism, you’re really acting like a savage! Stop the racism! D’ bula-eu ta!

Hurry up and carry this white man’s baggage! Why do you keep throwing around racial slurs? Honestly, that poem wasn’t written by an Englishman but an American! Wasn’t America a British colony?

Anyway, you probably had a wealthy ancestor among those who exploited colonies, so why does someone born into a staunch Conservative family keep cosplaying as a Labor Party supporter? Camila, are you a socialist or something? Historically, those infamous reds were bourgeois. So this person might have been in the same group!

Who are you calling bourgeois? And I’m not a communist! That’s a lie! Where’s the nonsense coming from?

It’s true! There’s this art center that used to have a giant sign for a successful seafood restaurant, and now they’ve changed to underwater ballet. Want to go check it out? Everyone who tries the water starts talking!

Actually, I’m not a communist; I’m a Luxatist supporting Luxatism.

What even is that, you nerd?

“……”

With the unexpected noise, Francesca’s eyes began to blink rapidly.

“…Colonel?”

-“Ah, sorry. There was a bit of a problem… Anyway, I can’t talk long. Quickly grab your coat and come downstairs. I’m on my way there now.”

In order to avoid the eyes of raiders and make a move towards the border, I needed a regular mode of transportation, and they presented me with a van on the verge of being scrapped.

Even in such a run-down neighborhood, this seemed a bit beyond acceptable, so I requested a rental car, but the response I got was quite the scene. They claimed it was from a rental car company!

They said they had no choice but to drive such a piece of junk themselves, assured me that the maintenance was done, and that “for now” there wouldn’t be any problems. I also remember them mentioning that despite the strong smell, they had put in air fresheners which would lessen it a bit—lessen it my foot!

The stench was so overwhelming it could rival the summer bulk-farming fertilizers (or as Camila would put it, Auschwitz) that made me gag alongside her.

“Anyways, this is one heck of a troublesome neighborhood, isn’t it?”

“It doesn’t seem like just a problem level, does it?”

Seeing Francesca looking around the car with a sour expression made me chuckle a little.

“I. Want. Out. Right now!”

“Okay, okay, I got it, just take your time getting out!”

“Odor. Extremely serious.”

The trunk opened wide, and Akande, a giant who took up more than half of the back seat, got out of the van while pinching his nose, looking utterly disgusted.

“Wow, it really is stinky…!”

“Oh, uh.”

“Ugh!”

“Bag! Use the bag, quickly!”

Camila, who seemed to get out of the passenger seat calmly, buried her face in a bag, and I patted her back.

After the storm of post-processing, Camila, who finally regained her composure, me, and Francesca, who was looking at us with a mix of confusion and mild curiosity, finally gathered to have an actual conversation.

“Let me introduce you. This is Shamir Akande. Akande is his name, and Shamir is more like a title. I met him in the Necropolis, and brought him along for work.”

While mentioning this, I lightly nudged the giant’s muscle, and he casually poked me back.

“What’s with the hitting?” I asked, and he said he was retaliating because I hit him first.

“Show artifact. Quickly.”

“Got it, just give me a moment, okay?”

Despite a new woman appearing, Akande didn’t even spare a glance. After getting out of the van, he kept claiming he needed to ensure the Cedar Coffin was safe.

No matter how much I reassured him that everything was fine, he insisted he’d need to verify it with his own eyes.

I tried to pry about what was in the coffin that he was so protective of, but he never gave me a straight answer. However, after spending nearly 24 hours observing him, I could tell he definitely knew what was in that coffin.

And he knew it very well.

“I’ll show you soon, just wait. I need permission to move it, so give me 30 minutes.”

“Understood.”

For now, I planned to take him to the facility where the Cedar Coffin was stored.

After showing that the coffin was safe, I thought it would be better to start the interrogation in a relaxed state.

While I was busy bickering with him, Francesca, who had been quietly observing the conversation, suddenly asked late.

“Akande, how did you end up meeting him?”

The word “how” carried a lot of meaning.

Questions like where did this giant pop out from, was it a good connection from the Necropolis, and what was the reason for bringing him along?

I answered honestly.

“I caught him in the act of robbing our lodging.”

“What?”

“But the important part is that this punk—”

Camila jumped in with a rant.

“Use nice words!”

“…This guy was robbing our lodging, you see?”

“Umm… if I may share my opinion, I think it would be better to explain that to the police rather than me. But, since the Colonel said so, please go on.”

Francesca crossed her arms and began nodding her head, making it seem like she was saying, “This is interesting, keep going”.

With Camila’s gaze on me, I gathered my strength to speak.

“Remember that item we found in the Necropolis? The basement?”

No sooner had I finished speaking than surprise flickered in her violet-like eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Francesca, keeping her expression stable, quietly replied.

“Yes. I remember.”

“That artifact originally belonged to him. It was kept at a temple of his hometown, but it was stolen. He ran into me while searching for it.”

“I understand what you’re saying.”

With a determined look, she began searching her pocket. She pulled out a gem-glowing orb and brought it close to her lips.

“Let’s inform Saint Veronica.”

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The Cedar Coffin, the tribe’s temple, the blood of the saint, Al Kair, the vampire.

A piece of baggage that seemed to promise to solve all the worries that had everyone on edge had rolled in, or rather barged in.

“I’m sure we can find significant clues. We just need to secure this friend’s testimony.”

It’s uncertain how much detail Akande knows about the cult organization Al Kair, but one thing was clear: there was more than one piece of information in his head.

Especially about the identity of the Cedar Coffin.

“What on earth is in that coffin that the cultists attempted to steal it?”

“Perhaps they wanted to gain the blood of Saint Lucia. From what I heard in the Necropolis, they longed to be reborn…maybe they intended to sacrifice blood to become vampires.”

While fiddling with the gem, I waited for contact, and a brief exchange followed.

Francesca, who had initiated a topic about the reasons for stealing the coffin, began to explain in low tones.

“A long time ago, I came across a book stored in my family’s vault. Back when our ancestor hadn’t surpassed the level of Archmage, it was a book passed down from his master to his master’s master.”

It came with an explanation that it was an old book containing knowledge about undead and black magic, along with some measures against it.

Whether back in ancient times or modern times, it would be classified as dangerous literature due to its clear prohibition. While undead knowledge might be unknown, the knowledge about black magic is extensively controlled and regulated by the magic department even to this day.

However, if it’s the heritage of the mages who have evaded the Inquisition since ancient times and preserved knowledge and vision, that’s a different story. The heritage of mages is always kept in places beyond the gaze of monitoring.

If even once it had come under scrutiny, the magic department would have rewarded the information and claimed it as national property or, in ancient times, it would have been burned by the Inquisition.

“Was there a way for humans to become vampires mentioned in it?”

I casually threw a question, and Francesca weakly nodded.

“Ordinary humans can become followers if they receive the True Blood.”

“Wasn’t it just that a bite turns you into a vampire?”

“That’s actually for werewolves. Vampires die if they are bitten. People bitten by werewolves would also bleed to death if they don’t transform.”

So one must receive True Blood to become a vampire. I took note of this.

“If indeed Al Kair’s intention was truly to become vampires, then wouldn’t they try to trade?”

It’s a simple logic.

Vampires drink blood.

The blood of a holy person produces miracles.

Lucia is the only saint in the creed.

So unless the blood of Lucia is endowed with the power to repel evil, from a vampire’s perspective, it would be an incredibly satisfying offering.

Francesca, after hearing my series of speculations, nodded calmly.

“That does make sense.”

Since I have no access to undead-related info, and it’s not my department, I don’t know what True Blood is, but if it can make vampires, it must be a valuable resource.

This was highlighted through Francesca’s explanations.

“While there are no clear criteria for a vampire to grant True Blood, it has been recorded that they do bestow it upon exceptional followers.”

“If it’s granted upon merit, could it be seen as an honor? Or does it grant some ability?”

“True Blood is the blood of the first vampire, known as the ‘Progenitor’. It’s of such value that vampires struggle to obtain even a drop. This is all I know, as the old book doesn’t delve much deeper into True Blood.”

“That’s sufficient information.”

If it has been recorded by ancient mages who preserved knowledge for centuries, there’s a high chance that it is factual.

“Of course, vampires can always massacre cultists and siphon their blood. But that would be too far-fetched a thought, so let’s leave it aside.”

“Even in ancient times, the organs, bodies, and blood of clerics were major ingredients for black magic. Records show that 1300 years ago, a group aiming to summon a demon using the bones of a bishop was arrested just before their ritual could succeed and were executed on the spot.”

“Then, the blood of a saint must hold significant value.”

“If it’s the blood of the saint…I feel like it could get even a demon in hell moving.”

That a demon would get moving.

An unexpected thought, but I suddenly imagined a scene where a demon crawls up from the sulfur flames break dancing.

“Hmmm… indeed a dreadful matter.”

“Right, it’s a serious issue.”

Though we were talking about a serious topic, who cares? Whatever happens, the cultists’ plans failed.

The group that had infiltrated the Necropolis was completely wiped out, and Lucia’s blood was safely secured in the Holy See’s secret vault. And with it, the Cedar Coffin, and even Akande, who introduced himself as the Guardian of the Cedar Coffin, had been secured. There was nothing they could do.

As our conversation began to draw to a close, the dry, warm breeze tickled my skin, and the pleasant fresh air flowed through, spreading the glow of the gem. It was a contact from Veronica.

When the gem turned completely blue, Francesca brought it closer to her with a bright expression. But it was Veronica who spoke first.

-‘Damn it….’

A low, groaning voice struck my eardrums.

In that instant, a chilling sensation ran down my spine.

“Veronica? It’s me. I’m sending someone to you, but is there….”

-‘Don’t come.’

Before I could ask what was wrong, Veronica’s warning rang out.

-‘The coffin just opened.’

 

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