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The combination of flint, a wide plate, and black gunpowder sounded like today’s most crude joke, where cartridges and smokeless powder found their place.

Yet, both the one facing the muzzle and the one aiming were infinitely serious.

In a distant past, there had been a massacre.

A witch hunt.

The greatest slaughter orchestrated by the cult alongside the holy wars.

Countless witch hunts were carried out over hundreds of years, resulting in innumerable victims.

The Inquisition Officers were relentlessly hunting witches scattered across the land. Thus, in modern times, witch hunts are remembered as a heinous massacre perpetrated by religion. Even the cult’s theologians accepted it as such.

However, recent studies in the historical field ironically revealed that the most enthusiastic participants in the witch hunts were not priests or Inquisition Officers, but the common people.

To settle personal grudges.

To eliminate rivals.

Simply because they disliked someone.

To calm the unrest among the unstable peasant class.

Out of an insatiable greed for rich estates.

Aside from the early witch hunts, those conducted from the mid-period onward were largely massive operations and entertainments carried out by the masses and local ruling classes.

A grotesque facade of lawful contract killings and robbery, shamelessly invoked in the name of the peaceful divine.

The musket of the catastrophe was a byproduct of that age.

The weapon of revenge held by a man furious over the death of his beloved. A solemn artillery to console the poor soul falsely accused of being a witch, and a grand firework to decorate the last festival of her life.

A brush that painted the world crimson with the blood of 400 victims.

It aimed at the angel held in the saint’s hand.

—

Episode 17 – The Tree That Drinks Blood

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An outdated musket, so ancient it was barely worthy of the name.

A far cry from the famed revolver or horizontal double-barreled shotgun.

“Do you know how to handle that?”

Saint Veronica, aiming the musket, responded.

“Kind of.”

Her white teeth bit into the paper, pulling the flint and filling the plate with gunpowder.

As the smokeless powder spilled, the paper and ammunition were buried.

The hands loading the musket moved with confidence. The saint, having expertly finished loading, lifted the musket and aimed at her target.

At the end of her muzzle was an angel armed with twin swords.

“How dare you.”

Nathaniel’s trembling voice echoed in my mind.

Amidst the swirling tide of emotions—rage, horror, and everything in between—the passionate voice burst from the angel’s lips.

“Is it you, a so-called priest, who dares to aim that accursed tool of evil at me!”

“Ah, so you recognize it,” Saint Veronica retorted.

The ancient musket was not merely a relic of a bygone era; it was a curse born of madness that had brought countless victims in the name of the divine.

A weapon infused with the grudge of a marksman who had allied with a demon to avenge his wrongly accused lover.

“The gun that snatched 389 lives. The broken soul of the great demon Catastrophe and the vengeful spirit of the assassin are contained within this gun.”

“Catastrophe! The Demon of the Hunt! Why on earth do you possess that accursed weapon?!”

The saint, wielding the cursed musket, let out a hollow laugh.

“Well, it used to be stored in the treasury of the Holy See. It naturally ended up in my hands.”

The treasury of the Holy See. A vault boasting a long history and the utmost secrecy.

It was a place where the cult had collected relics and cursed objects from around the world for thousands of years. Items that were either possessed by evil spirits or steeped in intense grudges.

The Holy See buried all that was unclean alongside the most sacred objects, ensuring they never reemerged into the world.

One of those heinous items was now in Veronica’s hands.

I looked at her with disbelief.

“How on earth did you get that?”

Veronica replied with a rather proud attitude.

“Well, I got the key to prep some relics since there was a vampire incident, and when I entered the treasury, there it was! A relic cursed to have smashed the pope’s head back in the day was stored with utmost care. Surely an artifact that’s been around for hundreds of years won’t sprout legs and run away, right? Especially with so much rubbish crammed into that treasury over countless years that it’s about to burst.”

So, to sum it all up.

Due to the influx of new items ready to overflow, Veronica snuck past the monitoring to take out a cursed weapon. Is that what it means?

What kind of nonsense is this? Why the heck is she wielding such a thing, that crazy girl? Has she seriously lost it?

In that moment, my mind became dizzy, and I glared at her. But this girl who regarded even the pope as old-fashioned couldn’t care less about my feelings.

“Haha! No one can stop me! That’s the limit of church law!”

“This is getting intolerable… A self-proclaimed servant of God daring to wield a devil’s accomplice!”

Nathaniel erupted with a rage I’d never seen before.

“I’ll cut that neck off right now!”

The enraged angel spat venom, swinging his blade toward the saint. But a massive hammer blocked the path between the angel and the saint.

“Stop, Nathaniel. Are you trying to harm a human in my presence?”

It was Ramiel.

Holding the end of the hammer, the knight pushed back Nathaniel’s advancing sword with a threatening glare.

Nathaniel, stopped mid-attack, glared back at Ramiel.

“Are you saying you’ll just stand by and watch while that filly’s crimes go unpunished?”

At the reproachful question, Ramiel sneered at Veronica briefly before turning back to Nathaniel.

“Looking at that infested and profane object is unpleasant for me as well. I understand the desire to dispose of it immediately. However, we cannot hold her accountable for the sin of sacrilege.”

“You talk a good game, yet now you’re hesitating again, Ramiel. Do you even deserve to talk of justice?”

“Feel free to label me a coward. But don’t even dream of presiding over judgment. That’s forbidden for both you and me.”

“Ramiel. You’ve always been like this. You were the same when Rotary pretended to slay in God’s name—”

Just then, thunder shook the chamber, silencing Nathaniel’s words.

A swift, sharp sound sliced through the air. In the darkness, a fiery ambush flew, and a silver line burst forth, intercepting the attack.

The deafening noise of steel clashing erupted. Nathaniel’s gaze faltered as he focused back on the saint. Smoke billowed from the end of the musket as Veronica grinned.

Then, *thud*, a round steel ball lodged deep in his abdomen.

“Cough…!”

“Nathaniel!”

Even as Ramiel flinched from the surprise, Nathaniel cradled his stomach, his face turning incredulous.

“Why… I surely dodged that…”

“If a cursed bullet could be so easily blocked, it would never have been locked away in the treasury.”

Veronica, who had already steadied herself, added mockingly, “Amazing performance. Truly devilish! I had faith in it!”

Her taunt was so blatantly meant to poke fun.

Wait, is she really a saint? She disrespects older men, abandons her duties to run around, and now she’s even swiped items sealed away by the Holy See for her use. And with an angel at that.

Is this really the Veronica I know? Maybe she’s been possessed by a demon without me realizing.

Despite my concerns, the Veronica shooting at the angel was indeed the same Veronica I knew. Truly a regrettable situation. The future of the cult. Is it truly alright to continue like this?

“…That… that vermin!”

Fueled by rage to the tip of his head, Nathaniel began swinging his twin swords mercilessly. Yet Veronica dodged the attacks, navigating smoothly between the pillars like the angel had, avoiding the onslaught.

The true source of Nathaniel’s fury was being offloaded onto me.

“Reload, please!”

“W-wha-?”

Veronica, who had tossed the cursed musket at me like a hot potato, leaped behind a pillar. As the angel began swinging at me, alongside the fleeing Veronica, my stomach boiled over with incredulity.

“Damn it!”

As Veronica leaped over the rubble and glanced back at me, she winked.

“If you don’t want to die, run, Colonel!”

“Hey, you crazy girl—!”

—

Nathaniel’s rage stemmed from a simple fact.

The existence of a weapon holding the soul of a demon.

To be more specific, it would make him furious that she had pulled it out right in front of him, but if he hadn’t seen it, he wouldn’t have known it existed in the first place, so it didn’t matter in the end.

Anyway, the thing that fueled the rage of an angel was the principal gun of Catastrophe. It was the very item Veronica had brought, now resting in my hands.

Naturally, Nathaniel’s anger directed toward me was nothing short of a natural consequence of the world.

“Mother, damn it!”

As I desperately dodged a strike coming from behind, I shouted with injustice.

“Why the hell are you going off on me, you feathery little bastard! I only received the item!”

“Shut up!”

“I’m serious!”

In technical terms, this was a setup.

A trick sometimes used by criminals dealing in drugs. And simply possessing drugs meant facing suspicion, distrust, and a hail of bullets from law enforcement.

Thus, Veronica had taken the plunge. What did she throw? A cursed weapon. At whom? Me.

Thanks to that, I was on the run from an enraged angel like a Mexican drug lord on the run from the DEA.

Would the blessed ammunition borrowed from the Order of the Holy Knights even work? I fired my rifle with a faint hope, but unfortunately, the newly encountered angel was quite different from the fat one; he was incredibly agile. He dodged every shot as if dexterity alone had been maxed out.

After wasting most of the rounds on thin air, I found myself scurrying around with the musket tucked into my side.

While inhaling all the dust built up over many years along with the debris from battle around me.

“Why does this always happen to me!”

With my grievance urged forward, I shouted, but there was no answer. Ramiel was exerting all his effort to hold off Nathaniel, and Akande was sticking to the knight to beat the angel senseless.

By the way, Veronica was counterattacking with her revolver.

Strictly speaking, the only reason I was still intact was that she had drawn the angel’s focus away, yet—

“If you’ve got time to shoot, reload this instead! Why the hell are you giving it to me, huh?! Is this some kind of poison pill?”

“Ah, come on! Colonel, you’re not doing anything anyway!”

Being called out with inconvenient truths left me speechless.

Anyway.

I needed to distract the angel somehow. The root of the problem was the cursed weapon, so that needed to be sorted out first.

Whether it was fortunate or unfortunate, a former Mujahideen elder, who had supposedly sniped Soviet soldiers back in the day, had seen how to handle a musket, so I could awkwardly imitate that technique.

I had brought dinner by hunting wild animals with a gun that was originally meant for red army troops, but—no, that’s not important right now—

“Take it, quickly!”

Just as I was shifting cover, continuing to load the musket, I hefted its stock with all my might.

Veronica dashed in like a ghost and snagged it away.

“Thank you!”

Receiving the loaded musket, she used a pillar as cover. Leaning back against the solid sand-colored bricks, she took a moment to catch her breath.

When I exchanged glances with Veronica, I made small movements with my lips. Understanding my intent, she pressed the stock to her shoulder.

Breath stopped.

Aiming aligned.

Flashes glinted among the chaos of obstacles and darkness. Twin swords danced wildly through the air, along with glowing tattoos and the swirling hammer raising clouds of dust.

-Squeak.

– ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ !!

The cursed bullet began slicing through the wind with ferocity.

The moment the flame sparked from the musket’s mouth, Nathaniel started to respond.

The angel’s figure, blocking the descending hammer with his blade, momentarily turned faint. Then, from a nearby pillar, a smoky aura rose, and Nathaniel appeared from the darkness.

At the instant Nathaniel re-emerged, the bullet, which had been flying straight, veered suddenly off-course. It bent smoothly, as if pulled by unseen hands.

“My god, what is that?!”

My eyes widened in shock as Veronica raised her voice.

“I told you it’s a cursed bullet!”

“No way! What kind of bullet can curve like that?!”

“I told you, it’s a cursed bullet! How could a regular bullet bend? Is the projectile being pulled by our ancestors or what?”

A chase ensued between the angel and the cursed bullet. Nathaniel ran atop the bridge connecting the pillars, while the bending bullet chased closely behind.

With a crash, pillars were penetrated like sausages on a skewer. As the bullet barreled through the bricks, its speed showed no signs of slowing.

While frantically fleeing, Nathaniel severed the pillar with his twin swords. As the silver blade struck halfway, the pillar splintered and collapsed beneath him.

At the moment of the fall, the bridge crumbled away, leaving Nathaniel off-balance and on the verge of losing his footing.

The bolt whizzed through the air, narrowly grazing the space between the chest and the arm, skimming past the armpit.

Veronica, who was watching the scene, clicked her tongue as if disappointed.

“It brushed against the armpit. If that’s the case, I think I should shoot again… Such a shame. If it had just gone a little further, it would’ve lodged itself in the heart.”

“…Um, you are a saint, aren’t you?”

“Is there someone more perfect than me in this world? Oh, except for my little sister.”

At this point, I couldn’t help but wonder if the heavens had made a mistake in choosing this saint. Shouldn’t I report Veronica to the Inquisition right away?

Just then, something sharp whizzed past the saint’s head. The force of the wind lifted her hair, and a fine line appeared on her smooth cheek, soon followed by blood that began to trickle down her chin.

I quickly took Veronica and dove behind some debris as an ominous sound of something piercing through the air rang out—thud! It was a dagger.

The act of throwing it had been performed by Nathaniel, who was descending from a broken bridge. To throw a dagger from a distance exceeding 60 meters like that? He had almost hit Veronica’s head! It was a skill beyond human ability.

Landing on the ground, Nathaniel pulled three daggers from within his cloak.

Like a fan opening, the three daggers spread out from his grasp. A massive shadow sliced through the dust and headed straight for the back of my head.

It was a hammer.

—Boom!

Just before the hammer collided with the back of my head, Nathaniel successfully rolled to the side to evade the attack.

The ground had transformed into a rough, uneven surface, resembling an earthquake site. Ramiel, gripping the end of the handle, began pushing away the bricks that had risen and fallen, while at that moment, something flickered out of the air and surged towards the knight.

The colossal hammer swatted it away like a fly.

The projectile, with its trajectory altered, surged straight ahead and soon collided with a wall. In an instant, smoke erupted in all directions like a burst balloon, and the objects that came into contact with the smoke began to corrode rapidly.

“Decaying is a part of the cycle.”

Despite the passage of time, the objects that held their grandeur suddenly transformed into dust.

Stepping upon that dust, Nathaniel trudged forward.

“Don’t waste your time on futile resistance. No being can defy the cycle.”

So that’s what power is.

While it differed from the knight’s power, it was still a strength that could hardly be described by magic or divine will.

Ramiel, carrying the hammer, charged forward but it was a pointless action. The smoke that poured from under Nathaniel’s cloak began to spread out and corrode the ground.

A moment later.

The bricks of the decaying ground started to fall away. With a rumble! The inevitable collapse ensued, and we quickly stepped back. Just like that, a massive chasm was born between Nathaniel and us.

The angel, who had ravaged the area with a mere gesture, gazed across the void. He then spoke to Ramiel in a condescending tone.

“You too, Ramiel.”

“…Hmph.”

The knight, lowering his hammer, muttered under his breath, clearly in a tight spot.

However, despite this appearance of difficulty, his voice remained unnaturally calm.

Barely audible, he whispered quietly so that only we could hear.

“…Nathaniel is the one who presides over the cycle. Tread carefully not to come under her power; in the blink of an eye, your body will rot into dust.”

I, who had been glancing at the back of Ramiel’s head, quietly posed my question.

“How… can we catch him?”

“It is possible, but it won’t be easy.”

So, it’s possible, then.

I wished he would tell us how quickly.

Just as I had that thought, the knight, turning his back on us, began to issue his request.

“Create a diversion so that Nathaniel can come closer to me.”

He tightened his grip on the hammer and added in a composed voice.

“Then, I will finish it myself.”

*

Luring Nathaniel near Ramiel.

While it was a good plan to have, the issue was how to execute it.

“I don’t think I could lure that angel. Even if I somehow succeed, he’ll likely escape quickly.”

“….”

“Anyone have a good idea?”

The saint posed a question, but no one answered. It was indeed a dismal situation. And my grasp of the situation was thoroughly misplaced.

Our half-naked, tattooed pig soup guy, someone who couldn’t even speak Mauritanian properly, along with a self-proclaimed angel whose nature was hard to distinguish between a true angel and a fallen one, all of them made for a laughable lineup.

In the end, I was the only one who came up with what could remotely be called a plan. In fact, it was stretching the definition of “plan.”

After listening attentively, Veronica frowned slightly and asked again if this was truly the best we could do.

“Are you really going to do that? Right now?”

“There’s no other way.”

“I don’t think that will work….”

“Still, we have to try.”

“…Alright. For now, let’s follow the Colonel’s plan.”

And shortly after that.

The attack began.

*

As tension-filled silence hung in the air, the ambush struck without warning.

“I’m coming in!”

Akan-de charged in, his black tattoos shimmering and painting arcs of light as his robust, muscular physique flew forward.

Thud, thud, thud. He leapt exactly three paces and vaulted over the rift. Soaring over the dark valley, Akan-de overcame the abyss that could lead to his demise.

Just as the tattoos along his calves and heels flickered out, the markings on his hands flared up, empowering his fist.

He swatted away a hand aiming to grip his collar, deflected a punch aimed at his jaw, and dodged an upwards elbow. As fists and fists collided in the mix, his knee drove into the abdomen, causing Akan-de to let out a fierce laugh.

“…!”

The triumphant grin on Akan-de’s face twisted into shock. A tingling sensation coursed through him like an electric shock. Sensing danger, he kicked off the ground and backed away.

Sure enough, ominous smoke began to rise from beneath him like a gathering storm cloud.

Nathaniel pursued Akan-de while intending to use her powers—or rather, she would have if not for the chilling thunder that rocked the space before.

We all knew who the owner of that sound was.

“Take this!”

With one hand raised, Veronica pulled a musket and squeezed the trigger. An earth-shattering shot resonated.

Feeling the malevolent energy, Nathaniel angled her twin swords.

A horrific screech echoed as the shot struck, and a heavy metal ball imbued with profound malice slammed into her leg.

“Tch. It brushed past.”

With a quick deflection using her twin swords, Nathaniel pulled out a dagger. The dagger she had drawn from her cloak sliced through the darkness, speeding toward the saint, who abandoned her musket and leapt atop the debris.

The clash of angels left multiple wounds in the chamber. Shattered pillars, rising ground, collapsing bricks.

A small hill was built upon the wreckage. The moment Veronica kicked off that hill, a swirling mass of pure white light began to gather.

The Holy Spirit.

The miracle that made the Holy See recognize the young girl as a saint, a major contributor in driving demons back to hell.

As she leapt into the air, Veronica grasped her revolver and reached out toward the mass of light.

However,

—Swish!

“…Huh?”

Something blurred past before my eyes, and the light that had gathered in the sky dissipated. It scattered like petals blown by the wind, as if pierced by an arrow.

Then, a sudden sound of something embedding itself made Veronica shift her gaze to the source. The object embedded between the columns and the bridge was indeed a dagger.

The angel who had extinguished the mass of light with a toss of her dagger scoffed contemptuously.

“What a pathetic trick.”

Veronica held a face full of embarrassment as she repressed her anger. Naturally, it was a blow to her pride as her grand act of invoking the spirit was thwarted.

“No, wait—”

Bang, bang, bang! The revolver, adorned with sacred symbols, erupted in flames.

Special ammunition permitted by the Holy See to combat the unholy and wicked. Bullets made from melted relics of the Cathedral’s cross were now fired at the angel. Nathaniel bent backward, almost touching the ground, as the powerful shots whizzed past.

As the angel, with an almost graceful agility, avoided the shots, Akan-de, having grasped the angel’s back, followed it up with a headbutt.

Blocking the leg by raising an arm, Nathaniel attempted to stab Akan-de with her dagger, but the gunfire resumed, leaving her no choice but to retreat.

The battle between the angel and the saint, reinforced by the Shamirs, was fierce. It escalated to a point that a normal person could hardly track with their eyes.

Veronica and Akan-de charged with all their might toward Nathaniel as Ramiel stood silently across the divide, holding his hammer.

One person sneaking around behind the wreckage mumbled under their breath.

“…Damn it.”

Frederick, covered in debris and stone dust, cursed quietly.

Avoiding the crumbled ground, he had barely managed to cross over onto a brick that was still hanging on for dear life. The bricks beneath him were crumbling unevenly, making every step an adventure as they threatened to fall apart at any moment.

Lying low amidst the debris, Frederick scanned the battlefield.

The tattoos adorning Akan-de’s abdomen and back glowed, unleashing the bellow of a bull, sending shockwaves across the ground. Nathaniel, moving with incredible agility, dodged while bullets imbued with the relic’s power zipped past.

“Wow. They’re fighting ferociously…”

The analysis was complete.

Frederick peeked into his bag. Then he quickly shut it and took several deep breaths.

And then.

“Everyone, pay attention!”

He bolted up from the wreckage, addressing the half-naked tattooed pig soup guy, the saint who has forgotten her humanity, and the self-proclaimed “angel.”

Then, he quickly dashed down while yelling.

“When the bomb goes off, get out of the way!”

At first glance, it seemed ridiculously significant. After all, weapons that exploded were usually large and cumbersome.

As Nathaniel, tossing a dagger and swatting away punches, spoke up.

“What an absurd claim. Where is the bomb, then?”

The answer to that question became clear almost immediately.

Not by words, but by action.

Something unknown slapped against Nathaniel’s spine. Given the force of the impact, it was quite heavy.

Stretching his hand back, Nathaniel fumbled around, feeling something odd against his back. It was akin to a bag.

He yanked the object towards him, revealing an ugly, flapping cloth bag. Inside were rectangular bricks whose purpose was hard to gauge, all connected to a hefty iron rod.

At that moment, Frederick, who slid past Nathaniel, turned his head. Fitting his thumb gently onto the trigger.

In an instant, the words discreetly muttered reached the angel’s sight. They were merely a two-sentence phrase that was easy to grasp.

‘You idiot.’

And then there was light.

A bag full of military explosives erupted violently, ripping apart the cloth and unleashing an explosion of light and flames.

In a flash, a gale struck, sending the angel soaring helplessly into the air. Leaving Nathaniel behind, Veronica and Frederick were slammed into the ground by Akan-de.

Barreling like a bull, he leaped over the deep chasm.

The furor created by his momentum crashed into the armored knight. Yet the knight kept his gaze fixed upward, ignoring the trio.

Nathaniel was hurtling down toward the earth.

The angel was dropping through the deep gap he had created himself.

At the end of that drop awaited another angel, ready for confrontation.

“…….”

Clunk, the gauntlet tightened around the handle firmly.

The hammer drew a full moon in the air.

The blunt hammer shattered the shoulder and breastplate, knocking Nathaniel’s upper body away. Rough, fierce, and yet beautiful.

Ramiel swung the hammer with all his might, hitting Nathaniel, who had been flung by the explosion. Despite being a celestial being, even an angel could not remain unscathed after being struck by another angel’s hammer.

Nathaniel’s form twisted and veered off course.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Several pillars crumbled one after another under the enormous force, and after piercing through five and a half, Nathaniel finally slammed against the wall, bringing the chaotic momentum to a stop.

“You’ve grown weaker than you were before, Nathaniel.”

Ramiel observed that scene and forcibly dropped the hammer with a loud clang.

“Of course, I am stronger.”

 

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