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A stream of smoke embroidered the city like white paint spread across a black canvas.

The distant sound of gunfire resonated quietly. The scattered soldiers conducting checks and the endless procession of refugees fleeing seemed merely like a small background in a painting.

Occasionally, the clattering noise of battle would emerge, but it was only a brief surprise. The people brushed off their fears and silently went about their duties.

Counting in years, it had been 27.

The long-standing conflict between the regions and the center had already transcended into civil war for nearly 30 years. Sometimes, warlords would shed blood to claim a patch of land, and at other times, they would momentarily put down their weapons to negotiate.

Just like one cannot fill the sea with hands, the chasms of conflict only grew deeper as they swallowed lives like quicksand.

Matt, the Operations Team Leader of the Royal Intelligence Department, surveyed the area controlled by the rebels with a blank expression.

“It’s been nine years, and I still can’t get used to it. It seems the situation hasn’t changed.”

An elderly man smiled faintly in response.

“Is civil war something that can be easily ended?”

The old man, sitting on a well-tended garden’s worn-out chair, appeared several light-years away from the warzone where gunfire and bullets were exchanged.

The old man lounged on a cushy cushion, indulging in a water pipe. As the sweet and tangy fruit scent of the sherbet lingered in his mouth, it mingled with the subtle fragrance of the tobacco, making his taste buds awaken.

Matt exchanged pleasantries with the old man while savoring the bitter coffee brewed with sand. It was an ordinary kind of interaction one might find anywhere.

At least, it appeared that way.

As Matt was leaving the garden with the old man’s farewell, someone trailed behind him. It was an information officer from the Royal Intelligence Department standing guard nearby.

“Team Leader, did your conversation go well?”

“I got what I needed.”

He had gained what he needed and given what he should. The exchange of information was always a two-way street; it was never a one-sided affair.

After meeting the rebel elder, Matt handed a brown envelope that glistened like freshly baked bread to a team member.

Matt conveyed the intelligence provided by the elder to the subordinate who clasped the envelope.

“The Asen Tribe and the Sanya Tribe are entering a ceasefire. The leaders from both sides are supposed to finalize their negotiations around the 7th, intending to halt fighting for one month during the Aramad.”

Aramad, the grandest holiday throughout all of Mauritania and the most significant celebration dedicated to Al-Yabd.

For the devout followers of the Earth God, Aramad wasn’t merely a religious holiday. It was a massive ritual to carry out sacred duties, caring for the weak and neighbors through temperance by day and offering by night, and making a pilgrimage to the holy land.

Since it was considered a sacred celebration, spilling blood during this time would be ominous.

If battles were fought during the Aramad, the law-abiding sponsors and warlord executives would react sensitively. Especially if it was a conflict among brothers worshipping the same Earth God.

Moreover, spanning an entire month, the festivities would naturally drain one’s spirit and body.

In light of this, the warlords collectively agreed to cease all hostilities and enter a truce for Aramad.

Just as anticipated.

“My analysis was correct. What did the Director say?”

The intelligence officer from the Royal Intelligence Department asked Matt about the upper management’s reaction.

Matt shrugged his shoulders and replied nonchalantly.

“They said to blow up the meeting venue.”

“Again?”

“Yep.”

The subordinate employee began to look at his superior with a stunned expression.

“Weren’t there issues last time when they eliminated the government personnel negotiating a prisoner exchange with the warlord executives in the lower district?”

“But we can’t just watch as the Asen and Sanya enjoy a friendly truce. The Hassan Tribe needs more time to seize control, and we should exhaust the strength of both the Asen and Sanya as much as possible.”

“That’s true.”

“Get in touch with Director Leoni, or should I say the Chief. Ask if there’s a way to obliterate the meeting venue. If necessary, we might have to bomb it like last time.”

After lightly instructing to investigate military support needed for the operation, Matt got into the vehicle with a tired expression.

The driver naturally turned the steering wheel to blend in with the refugees.

With fake gasoline fueling the vehicles that belched black smoke, sneaking out from the meeting point was easy enough to do with eyes closed.

Matt pulled out the defense pistol tucked in his waistband and separated the magazine. He removed the ammunition filled in the chamber and then spoke up.

“By the way, what’s Frederick doing? We need to discuss the Hassan Tribe business.”

“I believe he left for an external assignment since around lunchtime yesterday.”

“Reach out to that team… No, just send Kair.”

“Kair, you say?”

The subordinate seated in the passenger seat seemed to ponder for a moment before exclaiming with realization.

“Come to think of it, Kair has a friend in the Military Intelligence Agency, right?”

“That’s right. That Nymph.”

“She was super cute. I thought she looked like an elf with pointy ears, but she’s just a fairy.”

One of the drivers chuckled while glancing at his colleague.

“You saw her too?”

“Of course I did.”

“That little one was something else—definitely a hundred times better than a bearded dwarf.”

“There’s a reason the female staff likes her so much, right? She’s practically a mascot among the religious folks.”

As usual, the information officers’ conversation shifted from the Nymph to complaints about the company.

Complaining about why there weren’t any fairies in their company, how it was dreary with just a bunch of men, and finally realizing that the welfare system seemed inadequate.

If other Abas Intelligence Agency personnel had overheard this, they would have cried out about how the ones receiving the biggest budgets were bloated. Of course, the Royal Intelligence Department employees weren’t the least bit interested in the gripes of employees from other companies.

This was true, even for Matt, who had worked at the Royal Intelligence Department for over 15 years.

Scratching his rough chin, he asked the employees again.

“Why are these kids messing around and not working? That’s why I asked to find out where Frederick is.”

– For reference, that Frederick was.

“Hey, you old fools! Why are you breaking the pillars and losing your minds? Huh!”

He was currently escaping from the collapsing ceiling.

Episode 17 – The Tree That Drinks Blood

Grumble!

A foreboding sound echoed, followed by a cascade of dust particles streaming into my nostrils.

It was funny for someone like me, a smoker, to say this, but right now, the situation felt perfect for someone with tuberculosis to meet their end.

“Cough! Ugh, damn it, it got in my mouth again!”

As the dust thick enough to obscure my vision made my eyes itch, I spat out the gravel lodged in my mouth.

Whoa, what kind of phlegm is gray?

It was a chilling scene. Am I really going to get lung cancer from this? Just as that thought crossed my mind, someone in front screamed.

“Is lung cancer really the priority right now?!”

It was Veronica speaking to me.

With her hair dyed a murky gray, she looked at me with an expression of utter disdain. I was briefly miffed, but before I could say anything, she jumped in first.

Pointing with a finger, Veronica shouted with a frightened face.

“We’re about to get crushed by the ceiling!”

The stone chamber’s ceiling was cracked and split. Thick and thin fissures spread like spider webs or lightning across its surface, creeping out in all directions.

At that instant, a thunderous roar erupted. As if lightning struck, the sound was accompanied by heavy blocks of stone tumbling down amidst the dust. It felt like hail was raining down.

While there are some similarities between hail falling from the sky and stones crashing from the ceiling, the most significant similarity is just one.

If you get hit wrong, you might end up dead.

“Aaaah!”

“Dang it!”

“Ahhh!”

As a fist-sized rock fell with a loud noise, screams erupted simultaneously.

There was no other reaction needed. Veronica and even Akande shrieked like young elementary school girls scared by a ghost story.

We fled from the collapsing ceiling, everyone terrified of a live burial, fervently moving their legs.

I shouted with guttural cries as I sprinted forward.

“Don’t look back, just run!”

If I truly were a Marine, I would be the one frozen in fear.

This could only be described as a reverse charge.

Stumbling in the dark, rolling on the ground covered with dust, even discarding my luggage while I ran was nothing less than a perfect reverse charge. A feat best done by the red badge-wearing Marines who were known for their skills.

“By living daylights, I’m off doing the same stunts as the Marines! Just yesterday, I fought the intelligence officers of your department. What the hell!”

As is customary for Korea’s military intelligence agencies, many of the intelligence officers are from the Army. It is almost safe to say almost all are selected from the Army.

However, for intelligence units cooperating with military intelligence agencies, officers from all branches, land, sea, and air, comprise those personnel. Just like the Navy intelligence officers of the Marine Intelligence Division.

From what many senior Intelligence agents personally experienced and I also experienced directly, the intelligence officers from the Marine Corps tended to be particularly troublesome. Although they belong to the same military, it’s hard to squeeze out any kind words.

But here I am behaving just like those fellows. What an irony.

Annoyed and fed up with the situation, I aimlessly babbled when Veronica clinging to Ramiel’s back raised her voice again.

“What nonsense are you spouting now!? Marine Corps?”

“Please lower your voice, Veronica.”

“Stop the nonsense!”

“You two! Enough with the noise! Shut it!”

Frustrated, Akande barked to silence everyone but it was futile. He was ironically the loudest among all.

“Shut it, you brat! You and I are just hurling insults at each other as we sprint away.”

“Damn… Why do I have to go through this…!”

Veronica mumbled, half-conscious. The knight in plate armor carrying her carefully glanced back.

“Such things happen in life.”

“…Whose fault is this, really?”

Veronica glared at Ramiel, her triangular eyes wide in accusation, layered with insinuated blame.

And it was only fair, Ramiel was the one who caused this mess in the first place.

Had he not smashed the pillars, we wouldn’t be swallowed by dust like this.

If he had even a little awareness, it would have been nice. But astonishingly, he had neither. By this point, he could not be called a heavenly messenger but more like a senile old man.

Just as that thought cautiously surfaced, undoubtedly, the knight once again spoke to invite his own ire.

“Isn’t life just full of such absurdities?”

“Shut up!”

Clang! A bell-like sound resonated through the crumbling stone chamber.

It was the sound of the saint’s fist hitting the angel’s helmet.

*

“The legs might collapse! We have to get out of here quickly!”

The crumbling scene was a race against death. We dashed away, avoiding the falling stones of the collapsed chamber, without even turning back.

The archaeological value of the ruins from hundreds of years ago was far too immense to be quantified, but the fact that they were being buried in sand was barely significant.

What mattered was whether we could survive this.

That alone sufficed.

I lunged towards the only passage connecting the stone chamber to the outside—the bridge. It was the only salvation to end this deadly circus. Had we not come here, we wouldn’t have had to suffer. Why on earth did I follow Ramiel like such an idiot?

Next time, I should never get entangled with an angel again. No, just avoiding anything to do with religion entirely would be wise.

“How much longer?”

“I don’t know! Now’s not the time to ask that, just run!”

As the chamber began to collapse, Ramiel started running while clutching Nathaniel tight against his side. Veronica, burdened with her heavy belongings, had climbed onto his back to flee.

Thus, while Ramiel and Akande sprinted away, Veronica, unlike us, managed to maintain a slightly more objective view of the situation.

The saint on the angel’s back pointed somewhere.

“Over there!”

Veronica shouted.

“I see light!”

True to her words, a shaft of light broke through the pitch-black darkness. It was a passage leading to the outside of the stone chamber.

While the light couldn’t be called bright, it was enough to faintly outline its shape. The shadowy outline was clearly a bridge.

As dust and gravel poured through the wide cracks, pushed by the warped columns, and the ceiling sagged with fractures, we pushed ourselves towards the glowing door.

“Ugh…!”

At that moment, when I finally managed to pull my two legs out of the stone chamber, a terrifying rumble shook the ground, causing the ceiling at the entrance to collapse completely, sending dust billowing up.

Thanks to that, I found myself coughing uncontrollably yet feeling a sense of relief.

“Cough, cough… I thought I was done for….”

“…Ugh.”

Akande, who had plopped down, let out a scream. It seemed his legs had given out; he was trying to get up but kept collapsing again and again.

Even amidst all this chaos, he appeared quite grateful to have escaped with his life. Like a caterpillar, Akande, now coated in dust, kept kissing the ground and muttering thank-yous.

“Merciful Mother, I thank you for your grace.”

He really had an iron stomach! Kissing the dust-covered ground like that.

Exhausted, I fell beside him and gazed up at the sky. Though, considering we were underground, there was no real sky to see. Still, after nearly losing my life just moments ago, I was grateful for even this small view.

Veronica, who had dismounted from the knight’s back, gulped down water in big swigs. After thoroughly cleansing her gritty throat, she splashed water onto her head.

“Ah.”

In an instant, her hair, which had turned a dull grayish-white, regained its original color. After brushing her now damp hair aside, Veronica sighed in relief.

“What on earth is going on….”

She had nearly died as well, but putting that aside, there was work to be done.

Thanks to the brush with death and being covered in dust, she began to scowl, an expression I hadn’t seen on her face for quite some time.

“Hey, why are you toppling pillars over there?”

The saint glared sharply at her target. At the other end of her line of sight was the armored knight, Ramiel.

Angel or whatever; it seemed like nothing mattered to the horse-eyed girl. Completely blinded by rage, Veronica was tearing into the angel.

“Who told you to bring the pillars down? Were you planning to kill us all?”

“It may sound like an excuse, but I didn’t intend for that to happen. I didn’t realize putting my hand on the pillar would cause it to fall.”

“Nice to know. That ‘excuse’ of yours.”

Ramiel protested in a gloomy tone, but it was no use—his words fell flat.

Who was Veronica, after all? Her tongue could keep pace with a demon in sharpness, and her character could make even a necromancer shudder in fear.

Trying to guide a girl like Veronica was something that even the Holy See’s most virtuous bishops and cardinals had given up on. Any initiative taken by the pope to enforce discipline had also faced years of frustration. In other words, Veronica’s character was so extraordinary that even the pope, referred to as God’s representative and a figure adored by many clergy, was left helpless.

That disaster was currently being unleashed on the angel.

“What? You didn’t think it would crumble? If arrows shattered the pillars and a bomb went off, wouldn’t it be common sense that the supporting pillars holding up the ceiling would be damaged? If what you have on your shoulders is a head, not a watermelon, shouldn’t you consider that logically?”

“I had no such intention. This is honestly quite amusing. After nearly burying someone alive, that’s all you have to say? If I were to poke you in the gut with that arrow I shot at the angel, would you just brush it off saying ‘Ah, these things happen’?”

“What a ridiculous thing to say. And another thing. We were the ones who lured and confronted the angel; what did you do to earn such a grand attitude? If you could have smashed things with a hammer, you should have done that from the start. What are you doing dragging it out and then relying on others, while acting all high and mighty?”

Oh, wow…. Is that a critique or condemnation?

Veronica’s tongue was demonstrating truly astonishing prowess. This was practically military-grade rhetoric.

Kicking things off with an outright personal attack, she was expertly turning the opponent’s words and actions back upon them. One could almost consider it a form of art.

I was beginning to understand why the Holy See merely let her be and had given up on trying to correct her. She was not someone who could be talked down to gently.

With nearly 20 years on the political stage, her sharp tongue far surpassed that of a thousand-year-old corpse that had been sleeping in a coffin.

As such, Ramiel seemed completely at a loss for how to respond. Watching him receive such a verbal smackdown felt almost pitiful. Especially when he had gingerly stroked his helmet at her jibe about the ‘watermelon’ on his shoulder.

The angel was rendered speechless, unable to muster even a rebuttal against Veronica’s withering criticism. It was as if he was being pummeled without even a chance to gasp for air.

“If what’s crammed in your head isn’t some sort of pulverized pasta, then—”

I stared blankly at Veronica as she kept battering Ramiel with words. I was genuinely relieved that Lucia and Francesca didn’t inherit that trait.

I would have to make sure that Camila and Veronica didn’t meet again.

After a moment of unleashing her frustrations, Veronica finally stepped back with a satisfied look.

“Ah, really, you’re making me mad.”

“….”

“Why are you looking at me like that, Colonel?”

“…Why not consider keeping your mouth shut for once?”

“What are you talking about?”

Veronica began to look at me with an expression that seemed to say ‘What kind of nonsense are you spewing?’. In the meantime, Ramiel, thoroughly frustrated, sat down on the ground without saying a word.

I was also one of the poor souls who nearly died at the hands of that angel, so I wasn’t feeling particularly cheerful myself. But I didn’t want to say anything now. Having seen how thoroughly she schooled him, I felt there was no need for me to chime in. Besides, I figured I could use a little more rest.

Caught between a sulking angel and an indignant saint.

As I glanced back and forth between them, I sighed and lay down on the ground.

“Well, at least we’re alive… Now, there shouldn’t be any more issues, right?”

*

In the beginning, when the sky and land came into being.

Before the moment of creation, the world was filled with void.

Since there was nothing, it was empty, and because it was empty, it was an unnamable space of nothingness. In the distant future, people would define this place as chaos.

Why is that place called chaos? When that history is unearthed, there was light.

In the time of creation when the sky and earth came into existence and life began to sprout. Light shone down on countless lives, yet it was denied to the beings inhabiting the void.

Because they weren’t allowed, they could not belong to the world and were ultimately pushed away to places where light did not reach.

In the beginning, it may have been a longing. A desire to grasp what they could not have, trying to quench their thirst.

However, no matter how much they craved, light did not reach them. Thus, they proposed a clever solution.

If they could not set foot in the heavens and earth, they would have to cling to the living beings thriving there.

And so, the thirsty beings struck a deal with the inhabitants of the earth. This was how the act later defined by priests as ‘trading’ began.

They formed pacts with living beings and managed to emerge into the world through them. Souls, lifespans, health, fortune. The subjects of their trade were varied, and the fruits of such deals were sweet.

Yet, light still did not come down upon them. Like a distant ghost slowly slipping through their fingers. Though light was granted to living beings who even lacked reason, it was denied to those who had been pushed outside the fence. Thus, their longing began to harbor envy and jealousy.

Powerful strength, envy, and jealousy.

The beings seeking to satisfy their thirst for base pleasures by preying on the weak were labeled as evil by the light. Perhaps this was the case even before the dawn of creation. Without divine revelation, humans could not dare to fathom divine intent.

While everything remains unclear, one fact stood out with clarity.

The kindness shown towards humans is never a kindness born of purity.

And now.

The hatred that had coiled tightly through the eternal years was beginning to awaken once more.

*

It started with a sound.

“What’s that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you hear that sound?”

As Veronica, who was filling the lamp with oil, lifted her head at my words, she looked puzzled.

“Sound? Um… Nothing at all. Just quiet.”

“That’s not true. I definitely heard something.”

It was coming from somewhere. A muffled buzzing sound.

The kind of sound that seemed to arise from the dense throngs of a hundred thousand people, adding their voices to a chaotic symphony of indistinct origins.

Veronica concentrated, but the answer she received was the same as before. Nothing. Even questioning if I had misheard, she wore a worried expression.

“Did you hit your head earlier? Did a brick fall on you?”

“That’s not it.”

“Hmm. Then what is it?”

As she cautiously examined my condition, Veronica suddenly burst into a fit of irritation.

“Ah. Who keeps messing around here!?”

Messing around? Her sudden outburst drew everyone’s attention, from the resting Akande to Ramiel and Nathaniel.

Veronica pointed accusingly at the three of them, conducting an impromptu people’s trial.

“Who is it? Is it you, Akande? Or is it one of those guys?”

“I can’t make sense of what you’re saying.”

“This girl is losing her mind. Someone call a doctor. Quickly!”

“Are you calling me crazy? You’re the weirdest one here!”

After trading barbs lightly with Akande, she started playing with her hair nervously. She was scratching at her head anxiously.

“No. Someone has been tickling my eyes with light since earlier. Who in the world is messing around in this situation?”

“….”

I stared blankly at Veronica. When our eyes met, she tilted her head.

“What? Did something get on my face?”

“…Veronica, what are you talking about?”

Light? We were underground.

There might have been lanterns, but apart from that, there were no other light sources here. By time, outside was outside, and this place was underground.

Above us was just sand and rock; where would light come from? We hadn’t turned on any lights, so what was she talking about? I questioned her with an incredulous expression.

Then she replied.

“No, I’m serious! My eyes are all tingly. Who do you think is doing this?”

Why wasn’t she believing me, suddenly getting angry about it?

It sounded eerie and strange.

Unsettling.

“….”

A peculiar silence began to cling to the air, and at that moment, Akande, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, finally spoke up.

“Light. I saw it too. We all saw it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just a moment ago. When we came in here. In the darkness. There was light. We saw it. Clearly.”

“….”

Wait a minute. After listening to Akande, something seemed off.

True to his words, as we escaped the collapsing crypt, we had seen a beam of light. To be accurate, it was Veronica who saw it first, and then we followed suit.

The problem was this.

We were underground, where neither moonlight nor starlight could penetrate; where on earth did this light come from?

As that thought took hold, shivers ran down my spine. Some inexplicable sense of dread began to creep over me.

“Hold on a second. There was definitely light earlier….”

That was when it happened.

From a little distance away, Nathaniel, bound by chains, suddenly spoke up.

“…Ramiel.”

“What is it, Nathaniel?”

“Release these chains. Right now.”

The angel was demanding that the chains be removed. Ramiel looked at him silently for a moment, then extended his hand and placed it on the ground.

And shortly after.

“Damn it.”

In an unexpected burst, Ramiel sprang to his feet, drew his sword, and severed the chains binding Nathaniel.

Just moments ago, they had been ready to kill each other, and now, the moment the angel was freed, both Veronica and Akande froze in shock. I felt the same way. I had narrowly escaped death by that angel’s hands too.

As I was about to yell at them to stop, Nathaniel suddenly sprang up, gripping the greatsword with both hands, and dashed toward the edge of the chamber. Ramiel, who was left behind, shouted to us in a frantic voice.

“Prepare for battle, everyone!”

“What’s going on!?”

“Demons!”

The angel, gripping the greatsword, continued.

“The minions of the demon have been unleashed!”

And with that word, a chilling, eerie wail filled the vast space.

From deep underground.

 

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