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Veronica used the broadcasting equipment in the central control room to summon personnel.

The first to respond were Ibrahim and the members of the Order of the Holy Knights. They had been searching the facility for the Saint and remaining personnel, and they rushed to the scene, where Veronica instructed them to restore the communication network.

Having received full authority from Pope Raphael, Veronica called forth the personnel on the ground to manage the situation. The priests, who had been anxiously worrying that the vampires might harm the key figures, let out sighs of relief upon seeing us alive and well. Their noticeably brightened expressions were just a bonus.

Under her command, the cult collaborated with Al-Yabd to restore the facility, while Camila and Francesca took a break to return to their daily lives.

The Order contacted the local government to arrange beds for casualties, and the personnel summoned by Al-Yabd conducted a comprehensive safety inspection of the facility. Thanks to Lucia, who had rushed to heal the injured, the scholars and researchers were soon able to rise from their beds.

The situation came to a conclusion like that.

However, an indescribable uneasiness still lingered in the corner of my heart. What we had done was merely stabilize the situation, not uproot the source of the problem.

What is the root of the issue, and whose hands hold the clues to resolving the incident? I think it over carefully.

The cultists who siphoned the holy blood. The Cedar Coffin found there.

Akande, who visited the Necropolis to recover it.

A letter from the High Priest.

A single point indicated by this chain of events, standing at the center of the incident.

A knight clad in armor, surrounded by a red halo.

Introducing himself as an angel.

Everything rests in his hands.

Whether it’s the key to unravel the mysteries or the sword to cut the knots.

—

Episode 17 – The Tree That Drinks Blood

In the north of the Mauritania Continent lies a special desert.

The northern desert plains, embracing the scorching sun and soft sand, might seem like an ordinary desert at first glance, but it possesses a unique mystery that cannot be found in any other desert.

Sandstorms.

A massive wind that sweeps the land for over a month. A phenomenon and mystery symbolic of the northern desert region of Mauritania.

The principle behind the wind’s endurance for a month is still an unsolved predicament in academia, yet the theologians of Al-Yabd explain it as the “wrath of the gods.”

As the scripture states, the Earth God shed tears upon seeing the suffering souls in chaos and sacrificed itself to rescue the wandering souls of the void.

As the Earth God embraced the souls, it dug into its own flesh to create a path, and along that path, the tears flowed, forming rivers and ultimately becoming the sea.

However, the suffering they escaped from stained their hearts black, and the sins born from those tainted hearts filled the world. Seeing this, the Earth God was distressed and revealed a wise individual filled with noble intent, who was none other than Al-Yabd’s first and last prophet.

Receiving the Earth God’s revelation, the prophet set off on a journey to save the suffering souls. At this moment, he encountered a tribe of unbelievers who did not follow Al-Yabd.

After fighting against those who sought to kill him for thirty-six hours, the prophet, in a crisis moment, kissed the Earth God’s feet and sought help. The Earth God, responding to the prophet’s plea, personally conjured a hot wind that obliterated the unbelieving tribe.

Based on the scriptures and historical records, Al-Yabd’s theologians and archaeologists claim that the unbelieving tribe of the past once resided somewhere in the current northern desert, and the month-long sandstorms are the “traces of the wrath of an enraged god.”

Of course, the academic world did not officially acknowledge the theologians’ and archaeologists’ claims. The religious and scientific communities, much like China and Taiwan, had a contentious relationship.

Yet even those scholars who followed the faith of science often compared the sandstorms to the “wrath of the gods.” This was because the sandstorms rendered the northern desert an uninhabitable wasteland.

Al-Yabd’s research facility is located precisely in that northern desert.

“Colonel Frederick Nostrim. Your identity has been confirmed. You may enter.”

The local spoke in fluent Arabic. He was armed with a weapon.

Although he was armed, he wasn’t a soldier. The local belonged to a group that was not military, but religious. A patch with the symbol of Al-Yabd was affixed to the arm that handed over the documents and identification.

A group that upheld the values of law and religion: the Al-Yabd Inquisition.

These individuals were essentially the religious police of the Inquisition.

Though dubbed “religious police,” the armed force of the Inquisition is practically classified as a paramilitary organization. Officially, they are an order of public order maintenance, but in espionage agencies, they are simply treated as a military organization, and perhaps because they are aware of this, they even created their own military uniforms.

Similar to how the cult’s Inquisition is categorized as an intelligence agency rather than police, while the Order of the Holy Knights and the Knights Order are treated as special forces. If we had to compare it to something on Earth, it would be akin to the IRGC (Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps) of Iran.

Put negatively, they are essentially a private army operated by religion.

“Please take this pass. As you go inside and turn left, you’ll find a checkpoint. Just show it to the soldiers there.”

The religious police of the Inquisition handed over the pass and pointed out the way to go.

While parking the car and unloading the luggage, Jake, who was at the wheel, spoke up.

“Manager, the naval intelligence unit contacted us, saying a sandstorm is approaching soon. Be careful.”

“How far is it now?”

“It passed through Kundahi, 82 km to the east last night. It is expected to arrive here in 13 hours via Mazar.”

The “wrath of the gods” they spoke of in Al-Yabd is about to reach here soon. I muttered to myself.

“This will spoil the atmosphere.”

“When the storm passes through the area, military police will control movement. Once the winds die down, the roads will reopen, but in the coming weeks, visibility will drastically decline due to the sand, making it hard for anyone to pass through.”

That meant it would be tough for someone to come pick us up due to the weather. Driving requires visibility, after all.

Normally, I would have zipped over with teleportation magic, but the sandstorm in the northern desert has a slightly special nature.

Even when a storm merely passes by, the difficulty of managing magic dramatically increases, rendering all magical tools and communication devices completely inoperative.

A sandstorm that interferes with even the use of magic. That’s why people refer to it as the wrath of the gods. It’s also the reason why academia classified a simple natural phenomenon as something mystical.

With its deadly power lasting over a month, it’s the perfect environment for taking lives.

“Teleportation magic will be unavailable for a while; is that alright?”

“They’ve already deployed special vehicles from the government. They’ll allow us to reach a safe zone, no problem.”

Now, technology has developed so much that the chances of someone being killed from encountering the mysterious phenomena have greatly diminished.

But thousands of years ago, an empire in the desert established an impenetrable prison here, and until a century ago, many countries on the Mauritania Continent maintained a death penalty system that exiled heinous criminals to the northern desert.

In that sense, referring to it as the wrath of the gods can certainly be seen as quite direct. In the eyes of people back then, the sandstorms would have been perceived as the wrath of a god.

Of course, it still holds a mystical reputation to this day.

“But what on earth are they researching in a place like this?”

Jake, who was getting ready to leave, blurted out a question. I answered nonchalantly.

“They said it’s a place studying the undead. What were you doing, not paying attention during Pippin’s briefing?”

“Oh, I heard everything he said. But…”

He mumbled as he gazed at the desolate desert.

“What on earth could they have brought that requires so many guards in this backwoods?”

I slammed the car door shut.

“Something like that exists.”

—

The knight in armor was currently staying at the facility.

In the interrogation room where the first questioning took place, Veronica demanded that the knight remain there. To be precise, this meant not to wander around unnecessarily.

The knight accepted that demand and didn’t seem to resist.

Although someone might interpret it as an intention to detain the knight, it seemed the knight understood it as permission to stay.

“It’s quite ironic, isn’t it? From their perspective, it’s like they woke up to find they were kidnapped, and yet they choose to remain here.”

I cocked my head and replied bluntly.

“When you think about it, isn’t this the lair of kidnappers? You’re the boss of those kidnappers.”

“Colonel?”

“Yes.”

Veronica retorted coolly.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Her slender fingers spread wide to form a clear curve. Raising her middle finger, Veronica shot a disdainful glare at me, who had dared to treat her as the leader of a crime group.

“Oh my god.”

“What kind of nonsense are you spouting? Did I kidnap you? You brought me here, Colonel.”

“To be precise, it was your Order of the Holy Knights that brought you here. I thought it would be better not to take you along from the start.”

If we consider it carefully, the ones who insisted on taking the Coffin were Ibrahim and the Order of the Holy Knights. However, both the Military Intelligence Agency and the Royal Intelligence Department are agencies under the same Government of Abas.

Thus, it’s hard to view me and Matt as estranged. In the same context, Ibrahim, who follows the Pope of the Order of the Holy Knights, is not estranged from Veronica, who is under the Pope’s authority.

By the way, the ones who immediately argued that they needed to take the Cedar Coffin were Ibrahim and the Order of the Holy Knights.

So,

“The ones who caused the incident weren’t us; it was the cult.”

I argued, based purely on logic, that it was the cult that caused the incident. And since Veronica is the Saint and the authorized representative bestowed with powers by Pope Raphael, all responsibility falls on her.

In response, she spread out her right middle finger and then also showed the other middle finger.

“Here, have this.”

“No, I’m being serious. This is clearly the disaster you all brought upon yourselves.”

“Do you want to be tried in a religious court?”

I was left speechless.

Veronica, pouting, folded her fingers and lay down. With her weapons within reach, she propped her chin on the desk and turned her gaze inward.

There stood a giant cube.

A transparent glass and steel box. It looked reminiscent of a display case. Inside was the knight’s armor.

The knight was confined inside that giant display-like cube. This was the prison prepared to prevent the knight’s escape.

The saint of the cult, with her chin propped up, looked at the prison with a bored expression.

“They really are being ridiculous, thinking they could contain him like that.”

She remarked about the prison in a nonchalant tone. It wasn’t a scathing and clear critique but rather a somewhat sarcastic sneer.

Once the knight agreed to stay here, members of the cult and Al-Yabd’s officials insisted strongly on the necessity of his detention. Although there was a request from the High Priest to treat the knight with high regard, this did not provide a valid reason to let him roam freely in the facility.

Despite the request from a highly respected clergyman, allowing the one who turned the entire facility into chaos to wander freely was an undeniably burdensome matter.

Considering that this was something even the guards of the Order of the Holy Knights and the Inquisition couldn’t stop, it becomes even more concerning.

Hence, Al-Yabd procured a special prison to prevent the knight from causing mayhem.

Of course,

“Do they seriously think such a thing will work?”

“Hmm… well, I can’t say for sure.”

Although I couldn’t see into the minds of the officials, they did not seem particularly convinced about the prison’s safety.

Especially since they had applied various seals and barriers around the prison in redundancy.

“Well, while seals and barriers might not be effective, it seems they can still physically restrain him.”

“So, that’s why they locked him in such a glass box?”

“They probably figured that keeping him restrained temporarily might work. At least until they could evacuate, right?”

It was transparent to everyone that they intended to evacuate quickly if another incident occurred without engaging in a fight, but anyway.

Contrary to everyone’s concerns, the knight willingly entered the prison. And he was doing quite well. His previous rampaging attitude that wrecked the research facility was nowhere to be found, adopting a serene demeanor instead.

According to the researchers overseeing him, he spent the entire day sitting quietly. He neither ate nor drank anything, just sitting there in a daze.

Watching over the knight, Veronica appeared tired and grumbled.

“I really don’t know what he’s doing. When does he even sleep?”

“Do beings that are not human sleep, I wonder?”

“If we’re talking about the undead, it’s more accurate to say they rest rather than sleep. Except for beings like werewolves who need sleep.”

“And what about beings that are not undead?”

Veronica’s shoulders shrugged slightly. It seemed that was something even she didn’t know.

For a moment, I exchanged words with her regarding the condition of the knight.

By the way, after the knight entered the prison, surprisingly, Veronica volunteered to keep watch. She seemed determined to ensure that the knight wouldn’t escape, and if he did attempt to flee, she would personally stop him.

Considering her typical lethargy and aversion to work, it was a miraculous act.

Veronica, who had been keeping a watchful eye on the knight for several days, looked particularly fatigued. As she absentmindedly rubbed her shoulders, she suddenly crossed her arms and glanced over at me.

“Oh, right. Congrats, Colonel.”

“What for?”

“Finding a new comrade.”

I made a face of disgust as a response.

“Ah—he’s not my comrade, I told you.”

The “new comrade” she referred to was Akande, whom we had met in the Necropolis.

Akande’s identity was one of the comrades that the Inquisition and various companies had searched for so desperately.

“Seems like he is a comrade? A large man, covered in tattoos, with special powers. He matches the exact characteristics reported by the Inquisition. He even said he received a prophecy.”

“I’m telling you that’s not the case.”

I muttered while shaking my head in annoyance.

Having learned of the connection between the Cedar Coffin we retrieved from the Necropolis and Akande, the cult thoroughly investigated his identity since he had revealed himself to be a believer of the Earth God, leading to a joint investigation with Al-Yabd.

But it turned out that this guy was actually the fourth companion designated by the prophecy.

I couldn’t accept the fact that this half-naked barbaric criminal, covered in tattoos (residential trespassing, special assault, etc.), was actually my companion.

“But the old-timers say he is. They say an official announcement will be made as soon as the investigation is over.”

Now that the cult and Al-Yabd had issued an official statement, it was impossible to deny that fact.

The religious interpretations of the prophecy had officially recognized it, so it had to be true…but honestly, on a personal level, it was difficult to acknowledge him as a comrade. How could someone who runs around the savanna beating up animals be my companion?

Yet as I thought about it, I started to feel like I had seen that guy somewhere before.

That guy…what was it? The bald, tattooed character who tears off the necks of Olympian gods to use as torches seemed familiar from a game I played.

As I was rummaging through the foggy memory, a single word flashed through my mind.

Barbarian warrior.

The tattooed pig-soup-guzzling guy I encountered in the Necropolis was indeed the fourth companion chosen by the prophecy for Camila.

Realizing that made my head hurt so much I wished this was all just a dream. No matter how you look at it, isn’t being called a ‘barbarian’ a bit excessive?

“What did your younger siblings think?”

Veronica began to chuckle as if urging me to speak up.

“I just vaguely thought that Lucia is a companion chosen by the Oracle. And it seems like Francesca has some rare abilities, so I guess there’s a bit of anticipation….”

“What did the Hero say?”

Camila?

“She was really excited. Said something about an angel with torn wings and a barbarian appearing.”

I heard Diablo was fun, starting from the second part on a borrowed relative’s account, and she even made a reservation for the fourth part, or something like that.

I had no idea what the connection was between a former angel who had torn off her own wings and turned black and Akande, who jumped out of a coffin claiming to be an angel. But anyway, Camila seemed quite thrilled about the arrival of a new companion and an angel.

Of course, I wasn’t.

I rubbed my throbbing head and waved my hand dismissively, annoyed.

“Let’s stop talking about her. The more I think about it, the more of a headache it gives me.”

“Why? Shouldn’t you be happy that you found a new companion?”

“…You’ll see once you actually meet her.”

Anyway, Akande was supposed to come here as soon as the joint investigation was completed. Since I received the notification that the investigation was over the day before yesterday, it was quite likely that he was on his way to the facility already. At the very least, he’d arrive before a sandstorm hit.

“Anyway, enough small talk. Let’s get back to the investigation.”

*

When the Cult and Al-Yabd decided to imprison the Knight, the Knight made a singular request instead of just walking into the jail voluntarily.

He insisted that he would only speak through two individuals, whoever they might be.

While it seemed suspicious to accept it outright, there were no alternatives. The High Priest had requested that the Knight be treated courteously, so the Cult couldn’t flatly refuse the demand, especially since the High Priest’s reputation was well-known even among Al-Yabd’s priests.

After obtaining the agreement of the relevant parties, the Cult and Al-Yabd settled on accepting the Knight’s request.

For the record, those two individuals were Veronica and me.

“Now, shall we begin this delightful day? Who will go in first?”

“Colonel, you should go in.”

I found it a bit strange at first that Veronica would pull me into this, but then I considered the Knight’s situation and it all started to make sense.

Currently, I was pretty much the only one who could communicate with the Knight.

The Cult and Al-Yabd suspected the Knight was undead, and both Camila and Francesca weren’t exactly on good terms with him.

He introduced himself as an angel, but Francesca didn’t drop her suspicion, and even though Camila was intrigued by the mention of an angel, she had a strange wariness considering the extraordinary powers the Knight had displayed.

Above all, the two of them weren’t exactly free enough to spare time for this investigation. And I was in the same boat.

Thus, examining the Knight landed on Veronica and me.

The examination would happen when we could meet simultaneously.

We agreed to conduct the investigation whenever I cleared my schedule. By the way, the first formal investigation would take place today.

The reason was simple: Veronica insisted that she wouldn’t conduct the investigation unless I was present.

It was plainly inefficient and odd that she, who could probably handle the Knight alone, insisted on my presence.

“Why do I have to be there for the investigation?”

“Well, it’s because you’re needed to handle things properly, right?”

“No, I don’t have any special power. If we follow that logic, you could just go alone, couldn’t you? You’ve single-handedly dealt with demons before, haven’t you?”

Veronica smiled as if testing me.

“Shh, that’s a secret.”

A secret? Whatever.

“Why, Colonel? You don’t want to work closely with just us two?”

“Working closely? Hell no. It’s obvious I’d be the one stuck with the mess…”

After hearing my response, the saint blinked slowly for a moment, then let out a resigned laugh.

“Got me there.”

After a light scuffle, we headed into the jail.

The Knight responded the moment we stepped into the space. The silence that had persisted broke as he opened his mouth. He lifted his helmet just slightly while maintaining his stance.

“You’ve arrived?”

Instead of greeting him, I waved my hand. The Knight, apparently unbothered by formalities, nodded in response.

I pulled up a chair, took out my writing tools, and casually threw out a question that barely counted as small talk.

“What were you doing?”

The Knight replied.

“Meditating.”

Meditating. Well, anyone could meditate, not just a Knight. It wasn’t limited to religious people either; some people even pay to attend meditation programs occasionally.

But hearing a knight proclaim he was meditating gave a slightly different impression.

“Even angels meditate, huh?”

“Calmly closing one’s eyes and reflecting inwardly is something everyone needs.”

I asked if we disturbed his meditation. He replied no.

“Not at all. I was just concluding my session, so you needn’t worry.”

“What do you think about while meditating?”

“Reasons.”

The reason he woke up in this place.

With that, the Knight adjusted his posture into a more comfortable one for conversation. I intended to slowly follow up with more questions on meditation, but he seemed to sense my intentions.

The Knight changed his position to facilitate a conversation, and I instinctively felt I would soon be the one answering questions.

“You were the one who discovered me at the Necropolis, weren’t you?”

I replied no.

That wasn’t incorrect. The first people to discover the Cedar Coffin were the Holy Knights who had ventured underground.

“Can you tell me what transpired?”

“The ones who discovered you were the Holy Knight members. When they raided Al-Kair’s stronghold, they found the coffin together with the stolen holy blood in the basement. I arrived at the scene after that.”

The Knight didn’t show any other reaction. He seemed to have no clue regarding the identity or motives of the cultists or the circumstances of how the coffin ended up there.

However, the moment the Holy Knights were mentioned, I could hear him mumble, ‘Are they still in existence?’

I felt an indescribable emotion in his mutterings. It was a very complicated and subtle feeling.

To see how he would react, I suggested, “Let me list the events of the past few weeks in order; perhaps something will resonate with you.”

“I’ll start with how the Cult began to pursue Al-Kair. It all started with a refugee camp.”

Survivors huddled into camps in a desperate bid for survival. Refugees fleeing from the flames of civil war and the threat of monsters crowded the camp.

Lucia, leading the clergy and priests, arrived at the refugee camp to conduct blood tests.

The saint’s blood was drawn by the medical staff from an international relief organization and was stored in a freezer, but it was stolen by invading cultists.

“After realizing that the holy blood had been taken, we began to pursue them. The Inquisition played a crucial role.”

“What is the Inquisition?”

The Knight asked what the Inquisition was. At that moment, Veronica answered in my stead.

“The Inquisition, handling heresy investigations, control of prohibited texts, doctrine supervision, criminal psychology, and religious trials among other tasks. Until the 7th Council in 1855, it was known as the Sacred Congregation for the Examination of Faith.”

“……”

The moment the long-forgotten old name fell from the saint’s lips, the Knight fell silent, as if lost in thought. I waited, anticipating he would have something to say, but his mouth remained shut.

Seeing that no answer seemed forthcoming, I proceeded to unfold the subsequent events.

Identifying the cultists and entering the Necropolis, searching the abode of the Necropolis, discovering the Cedar Coffin, and what happened afterward when we brought it to the facility, and lastly, encountering Akande again in the city.

As I concluded my story, the Knight remained silent, still unresponsive. I urged him to inform me if something came to mind. But he seemed not to hear my words.

Silence lingered.

The Knight remained still, reflecting in deep solitude as if savoring the tale. His lips and tongue were heavily sealed.

How much time had passed? After a long duration of silence, the Knight raised his head. His visor turned to Veronica.

As he gazed at her, the Knight broke the silence. After such a long quiet, his voice finally came.

“…The Sacred Congregation is still seeking witches?”

The Knight inquired, and the saint shook her head.

“If the witches you’re talking about are the ones who were unjustly accused, burned alive, beheaded, or drowned, then no. It’s been more than a hundred years since magic was legitimized; in this day and age, where would you find an Inquisitor still hunting witches? Even dark magicians are looked down upon when caught.”

The saint spoke of the religious trials that had become a mere formality and the Inquisition that existed as only a name.

After listening to her words, the Knight fell silent once more.

It was about 40 seconds before the tightly sealed lips finally parted.

“I appreciate the story. So many things have happened during my long slumber.”

I asked if anything had occurred to him.

“I do not know the exact intentions of the Al-Kair who took my coffin. I have no inkling of their motives. All I know is that they refer to themselves with a term derived from the word ‘Ubram.'”

“The one who introduced himself as the ‘Shamir’ of the time, Akande, testified that the Al-Kair stormed the temple and stole the Cedar Coffin.”

“Where is that man now?”

I answered that Akande was on his way here.

When I inquired if he wished to meet him, he replied, “I have no wish at this moment, but if he wishes to meet, let him know.”

That was an interesting response.

“Is there a reason for the cultists to abduct you?”

“I’m still being abducted.”

The Knight calmly stated that he was still in a state of abduction. I immediately looked at Veronica.

“See? Even he says he’s being abducted. Doesn’t that make you the ringleader of these abductors?”

Veronica, who had been about to mediate once again, hastily withdrew her hand upon seeing the Knight before her. Trying hard to put on a bright smile, she began to laugh heartily as if nothing had happened.

Of course, she was stomping on my foot under the table, but still…

Anyway.

“So, you’re saying you don’t know Al-Kair’s objectives. You have no inkling whatsoever.”

“Correct.”

“Haa… Then why did they take the saint’s blood? You don’t look like a vampire at all. What are they planning to do with the blood, and what were you doing there? What in the world does this chaos lead to…?”

At that moment.

“What did you just say?”

I looked at the Knight as if to ask what he meant. He leaned slightly forward, tilting his helm as if trying to hear better.

“What? About taking the saint’s blood? Or about the rebirth thing?”

“The latter.”

“It’s an essential doctrine of Al-Kair, thought to be related to this current situation. Specifically, ‘Reborn.’ But I’m still trying to ascertain what it’s being reborn into.”

“……”

“Have you thought of anything?”

Expecting a nourishing response, I inquired, but the answer I received was unexpectedly underwhelming.

Once more, the Knight threw out a question akin to a Zen riddle.

“May I ask you one thing? It seems the church was the one who discovered me, correct?”

“Yes. The Holy Knights discovered you.”

“Then, who awakened me?”

“No one awakened you. We didn’t open the coffin; it opened on its own.”

As I spoke, I suddenly felt a sense of bewilderment, prompting me to ask the Knight.

“…Did it not open by itself?”

“I thought if it were not an old friend awakening me, surely one of you opened the coffin, perhaps from Altiora or Medius.”

The unexpected statement made Veronica and me exchange glances.

Altiora refers to the Altiora Cathedral where the saints reside. Medius signifies the cathedral that houses the Holy See. And the Holy See, of course, symbolizes the Pope.

The problem was, contrary to the Knight’s claims, both Veronica and Cardinal Raphael had no intention of waking him up.

“W-Why would I wake you up?”

Veronica exhibited a distinctly flustered expression. So flustered, she even stammered her words.

The Knight reflected the same. Seemingly taken aback by the saint’s reaction, he queried Veronica in return.

“…You didn’t awaken me at Altiora, did you?”

“Why would I wake you? I was sent to eliminate a vampire that was discovered in the Mauritania Continent in the first place. What is this ridiculous thing you’re saying? No, the Holy See thought from the outset that you were a vampire?”

It was clear as day that a coffin emitting ominous black smoke couldn’t possibly belong to anything other than a vampire. The visual alone screamed vampire.

Surely the Holy See wouldn’t be foolish enough to open the Cedar Coffin and awaken a vampire; they had tried to liberate it, but that was precisely aimed to eliminate the vampire, not to awaken it for some purpose.

Muttering as he gazed at Veronica, the Knight let out a sigh as if coming to terms with something amiss.

“…This is ominous.”

Detecting the unsettling energy, Veronica cautiously opened her mouth.

“Is that a bad omen…?”

“Unhappily, yes. Since I awoke on my own and not by someone else, it surely does not bode well.”

I took that as a sign we were in deep trouble.

The sudden foreboding statement made the saint frown. The Knight stood up as if bracing for something, and I felt like we were in very deep trouble, so I decided to light a cigarette first.

The Knight spoke.

“I apologize for not being able to fully answer your questions until now, but there’s no time to linger here.”

“What’s going on? Please tell us what you mean.”

“I don’t know who the Al-Kair are, but I think I can vaguely grasp the meaning behind ‘Reborn.’ If the meaning I assumed aligns with theirs, remaining passive is not an option.”

The saint asked.

“What do you think the rebirth means?”

The Knight looked directly at the saint.

“I believe the Al-Kair desire to become denizens of darkness with the aid of pureblood vampires. While it’s premature to conclude, I suspect their true objective is not simply to become denizens of darkness.”

“What then…?”

“To become one with a great evil. The moment I heard the word ‘Reborn,’ a certain name came to mind.”

When I asked what it was, the Knight opened his mouth.

“A malicious entity that extends slender vines like starving snakes to seize a person’s throat, and in the last breath, hangs them on a bare branch. A malevolent being that swallows everyone trying to retrieve the corpses of the dead to increase its victims, devouring them with roots.

The travelers of the desert called it this.

A blood-drinking tree.”

 

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