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The security in a dictatorship surprisingly boasts a surprisingly high level.

You might think that’s nonsense, but it’s true. There are countless examples to prove it.

The first one that comes to mind is, of course, South Korea.

Next would be countries like Cuba and Chile, as well as those who have experienced socialist dictatorships like China, Laos, and Vietnam.

Under the government’s leadership, they suppress dissidents while treating crime as if they were hunting down rats, indiscriminately handing out lengthy prison sentences to criminals without a second thought.

High-level security can only be maintained with state-sponsored surveillance and harsh punishment, and in countries with a history of dictatorship, surveillance and punishment are often carried out under the guise of ‘maintaining order’ to suppress activists.

If someone isn’t a lackey of the dictator or doesn’t have money to oil the wheels of the investigative agencies, committing a crime in such places means tossing aside any hopes of living comfortably for the rest of their life.

The situation in this neighborhood was no different.

The Kien Empire prioritizes the emperor’s protection and the security of the empire and royal family.

In an effort to shed the bloody image of purges and tyranny, the emperor ordered all criminals in the empire to be locked up.

Robbers, pickpockets, human traffickers, murderers, rapists, and so on. After a massive crackdown on petty and serious criminals alike, the Kien Empire was able to rise to the ranks of the continent’s leading advanced security nations.

The Republic of Patalia, with its painful history of military dictatorship.

The military government, faced with the backlash of regime change and economic crisis, once declared war on criminals.

Generals who stormed the presidential palace aimed their guns at criminals, while military police smashed the wrists of pickpockets caught at tourist sites, which have been famous for thousands of years.

As a result, even today, the security in Patalia remains relatively good. Even the pickpockets commonly seen in Abas don’t dare to linger near the key tourist spots.

The Lushan Federal Kingdom maintains a strong central control of the vassal states.

The king of the vassal states, who leads the federation, derives his power from bloodlines. The king appoints his children as ministers, and the princes take over the roles of Minister of Internal Affairs and Minister of Defense.

Despite the torture, violence, kidnappings, and assassinations targeting anti-royalty social activists and critical journalists, the royal family, under the catchphrase of maintaining order, was sincerely devoted to rooting out crimes that disrupt the federation.

The ironic twist of history is that the noble cause that the dictatorship raises to maintain its power ultimately becomes a cruel reality. But it’s not surprising, really.

The tree of liberty grows nourished by the blood of oppressors and revolutionaries, but the tree of dictatorship demands even more blood.

The blood that the tree drinks is always that of the lower classes, simmering at the bottom of society.

Thus, security in a dictatorship can only boast of being at a high level.

At least, that’s what I observed.

But as the world is, there’s no such thing as absolute.

—

Episode 17 – The Tree That Drinks Blood

When I first arrived at the scene, I realized that the official expectation I held was shattered.

“Damn it… This is total chaos.”

For those who have lived through 21st century Korea, the imagery of a major crime scene looks like this.

A police line with bold “No Entry” signs.

Investigators dressed with “Scientific Investigation” emblazoned on their backs are examining the scene.

Police blocking access and curious citizens peer at the chaos.

Cameras from broadcasting stations capturing every scene while journalists interview officials.

What unfolded before my eyes completely refuted the image of a “21st century Korean crime scene” that had been nestled deep in my mind.

Disorderly onlookers and likely mourning family members wailing at the center, while a broadcasting crew filmed with magic recording devices, trampling the bloodied remains.

The whole scene was literally a mess.

The number of police needed to block access looked woefully insufficient just by glancing, and the hands of those rummaging through the blood-soaked clothes lacked any sign of preservation care. Considering that scene preservation is the first principle in criminal investigation and scientific inquiry, this was utterly shocking.

I muttered, looking around with a serious expression.

“What in the world is going on here…?”

—

“Get a shaman over here immediately!”

“Elzaher Town, this is the Nakubutu Police Headquarters. We need doctors. Repeat, doctors needed…”

“Take them to the hospital. What? No beds? If there aren’t any, make them! Why are you bragging about nothing! Make some room! Hurry!”

After reading the dispatch from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, I arrived at the scene using teleportation, and what I found was total chaos.

Pulling back from the scene and making a late visit to the local police headquarters, it too reeked of disorder.

Not just a bit of mess—instead, there was a multidimensional kind of disaster happening.

A police chief shouting at low-ranking officers and a radio operator straining to listen to a poorly transmitting walkie-talkie. It was quite the spectacle.

Realizing there was no answer to be found, I vacated the premises. As I was leaving the headquarters, I received an address on my company phone, and I headed there.

The place I found was a neighborhood located in the city center.

In that area, bordered by a pristine white fence, I finally got to hear the full story.

“The tree has been eating people.”

A man with a beard that looked like a pumpkin patch started speaking.

“The tree?”

“Yep. That’s what the reporters were saying.”

He introduced himself as an administrative staffer from the diplomatic office at the local embassy.

But we both knew that was a blatant lie. The address sent wasn’t the embassy, but the company.

In reality, the man was not a diplomat but an information officer. An information agent dispatched from the Royal Intelligence Department.

The Royal Intelligence Department employee had called me out from the scene and police headquarters to this village with the vibe of a mediocre market place. As I circled around to avoid the disorganized market, I arrived at the meeting point and immediately sensed something was off.

After all, in a developing country, a district surrounded by clean white walls usually signifies an affluent area. This place was likely constructed for local tycoons and power brokers.

I was quietly mumbling to myself as I scanned the parking lot.

“Seems like something unusual has happened, especially with the state of the hospital.”

Beyond the walls that separate the rich from the poor, the hospital situated in the affluent district had become today’s meeting spot.

Of course, even if it was a hospital for the wealthy, the standard was still somewhere in the realm of a developing nation.

Due to a lack of beds, patients were sprawled out in the corridors, the lobby trash cans overflowed with filth and medical waste, and the morale of the doctors and nurses was hitting rock bottom, turning overly irritable towards the patients.

This central hospital of the town was, by far, lagging behind major hospitals or university hospitals in developed nations.

The Royal Intelligence Department employee lit up a cigarette he had obtained locally.

He pretended to fumble with a lighter as he scanned the surroundings.

“…….”

A police car carrying the injured rushed past us. Without even a welcome committee from the medical staff, the police were forced to carry their comrade on their own.

A police officer slumped in the backseat, their head dripping with blood. The officers bolted into the hospital, dragging their unconscious comrade behind them.

After the police had completely disappeared, the man finally lifted his head, puffing on the lit cigarette.

“Quite the spectacle, I must say. I just came to meet an informant, and suddenly the city’s turned into chaos, and the informant is nowhere to be found.”

Judging by his tone, it seemed this missing informant had been taken to this hospital.

I asked about the informant, and the response I received was that he was dead. By the time the man arrived, the informant was already gone from excessive bleeding. He added:

“They told me at the office to get everything out of that guy. I’m not sure if I can help, but I’ll pass along everything I found out.”

“Thank you.”

“The tree has been eating people. Let’s start from there.”

I received several pieces of information from him.

The strangely incompatible sights I saw along the way to the meeting spot, the rumors circulating among the townsfolk.

The context learned from the patients and families in the hospital where the dead informant was taken, and testimonies from journalists and government officials closely linked to informal side incomes.

With the materials provided by the Royal Intelligence Department officer in hand, I went to find Veronica.

“The tree has been killing people. It seems that the blood-drinking tree Rami-el mentioned has appeared.”

“The area where the incident occurred was in the south, right?”

“Yes, Nakubutu. It’s a city near the southern capital.”

“Are you sure?”

“I just came from the scene, the police headquarters, and the hospital.”

Photographs that captured the brutality spilled across the table.

Veronica turned some of the photos face down, covering her mouth so the contents wouldn’t be visible.

I spoke up.

“There are sixteen fatalities, and over twenty injuries. Considering the eyewitness accounts from police officers and grieving families, it’s likely that news will break today in either local newspapers or central broadcasts. Naturally, the Holy See and Al-Yabd would be aware of the situation as well.”

“…….”

“What are we going to do now?”

It was already too late to control the information, as too many people had found out.

Veronica, resting her chin on intertwined fingers, remained silent with a blank expression.

In the quiet tension, she eventually let her wrist droop impotently, then spoke softly.

“Should we formally recommend a demon hunt to the Holy See?”

“Do you think Al-Yabd will just sit back and watch?”

“There’s nothing we can do.”

Veronica got up from her seat, leaning on the table.

“Still, it’s something that needs to be done.”

“…….”

“I need to go to Lateran and meet Raphael. Colonel, you stay here and find out if there’s any new information. If necessary, reach out to the angels… I’ll give them a heads-up.”

“Understood.”

I quietly nodded in agreement.

—

The bizarre murder case that occurred in Mauritania spread beyond the continent to the rest of the world.

Local correspondents reported breaking news citing regional newspapers and broadcasts while civil servants stationed at the embassy sent emergency dispatches to their home countries.

The cult and Al-Yabd discussed launching an investigation for clarity. However, the complicated web of international relations held them back.

“Letting heretics handle the investigation is out of the question.”

“It’s astonishing enough that heretical priests have step foot in lands shaped and completed by the Earth God; how can it be justified to investigate the incident alongside them?”

The news that the Holy See would participate in the investigation incited strong opposition from many Al-Yabd believers.

Their reasoning stemmed from the blood of the crusades and inquisitions still not having dried, questioning how one could team up with the clergy of the Holy See.

The Inquisition being named as the participating agency from the Holy See was also pointed to as a cause for the backlash within Al-Yabd. The hardliners, who had been restrained until now, began to slowly raise their heads, largely due to the existence of the Inquisition.

The problem was the external backlash.

“Brothers, why do you cooperate with heretics? Withdraw your hand extended to heretics and infidels. Do not shake their hands. If this behavior continues, you will pay a heavy price.”

A terrorist organization began to involve itself in the situation. If one were to compare them with groups on Earth, they bore resemblance to Hezbollah, Hamas, the Taliban, or Daesh (ISIL).

It was easy to deduce that they were aligned with Al-Yabd, given that they referred to the priests of Al-Yabd as their brothers.

And it could be understood that they were terrible bastards born from religion, just like the terrorists of the Middle East.

[The extremist terrorist organization “The Glorious Path” of Al-Yabd has claimed responsibility for a large-scale attack that occurred in Mahev several days ago.]

[Buildings are engulfed in flames. While people escape from beneath collapsed walls, the military special forces deployed to the scene fire their machine guns. The sorcerers who caused terror in the city were part of the “Ubasaran Brigade,” demanding the abolition of educational practices that violate the law and the cessation of cooperation with the cult….]

[A militant faction in the Mauritania Continent announced a statement at around 6 AM local time on the 11th. A spokesperson for the faction stated…]

It started by demanding the expulsion of Saint Lucia and the clerics of the cult, followed by a mention of six items in their list of demands. The local Deputy Minister of Defense stated that this was an unreasonable demand that would be hard to accept, warning that if there was an attack on the royal family, they would respond with massive retaliation.

When Lucia arrived in Mauritania, the armed factions did not strongly resist. They might have been gossiping behind her back, but at least they played nice in front.

This was entirely because Lucia’s deployment was based on the official request from Al-Yabd, with support from the local government and community.

As a result, the armed factions, except for some lunatics, couldn’t take action. They were especially cautious after those who threatened to kill the saint were obliterated by government bombardments.

However, once the battleground was laid out, those who had been holding their breath began to rise up in unison, as if to unleash the pent-up rage they had been suppressing.

The attacks by the terrorist organizations were quite sophisticated and meticulously planned.

Advanced country intelligence agencies classified these as premeditated terrorism. The Abas Information Agency was no exception.

Just like the CIA in the United States, advanced countries, including Abas, had branches all over the world. Naturally, they had already received intelligence hinting that something was in the works.

Still, the response from the local governments was utterly pathetic.

-‘The government complex was attacked. In Nurhabeana.’

“I know we were marked as targets for terrorism, and I passed on the warning two weeks ago. What on earth have you been doing?”

-‘We were caught with our pants down. Just the other day, they were boasting that they had everything under control. I feel like smashing that ambassador’s face in.’

The Royal Intelligence Department gathered signs of attack through information officers monitoring major terror groups.

The data was processed and handed over to the embassy, with a warning that the Abas government had to prepare defenses by any means necessary. Meanwhile, Leoni had long ordered to sift through some information from the Military Intelligence Agency to pass on to the local Ministry of Defense.

Yet, remarkably, the brain-dead local Interior and Defense Ministries allowed the attack to happen. They weren’t just battered; they were utterly devastated.

There were even signs that a mole in their intelligence department leaked the materials shared by Abas, allowing the terrorists to obtain our information.

It was nothing less than a disaster.

Colonel Clevenz of the Military Intelligence Agency described the catastrophe like this:

“Our intelligence network has regressed by about five years. The towering golden tower we built with so much effort is on the verge of collapsing overnight.”

It was an exaggerated expression, but a correct assessment.

If the terrorist groups used the leaked materials to identify their embedded informants, it would be game over for all of them.

Right now, the lives of our informants were at stake, and the duty officers were in a precarious position.

A sense of foreboding always proves to be right. This annoying jinx soon became a reality.

Intelligence agents tasked with overseas anti-terror intelligence gathering and anti-terror operations began to come under attack. Although the number was small compared to the whole department, it was an enormous blow for one terrorist organization to have access to the identities and safe houses of intelligence officers.

Meanwhile, the situation in other local companies was pretty similar.

-‘Two of our company employees were hit. They came under fire while leaving the parking lot for work.’

“Are they alive?”

-‘Fortunately. But it seems the informants weren’t so lucky. They only found a head and a hand in the trash.’

Sophia from the National Security Agency of Patalia calmly explained the incidents happening locally.

That intelligence officers being attacked could only mean their identities were revealed. It seemed that one of the killed informants spilled the beans, but since those informants were already dead, discovering the truth would be nearly impossible.

As the situation unfolded, local governments began to crumble.

“What do you mean, Minister? Expulsion?”

“I mean it literally. I would like you to leave our country within this month, starting with Ms. Camila, Miss Francesca, and Saint Lucia, who are currently active here.”

“…Minister, please calm down and listen to me. Our Patalia has ways to involve in the World Union’s peacekeeping operations—”

“Peace? Did you just say peace? Ambassador, look at the corpses lying out there. This is not peace.”

“……”

“This is terror.”

Notifications started flooding in to those officials related to the activities of the group.

Ambassadors, consuls, attaches, NGO executives, World Union diplomats, international organization staff, even other foreign diplomatic missions.

Governments of advanced countries like Abas suggested conducting military operations against the terrorist organizations and rebels, but it was all in vain.

Instead, government officials pushed back, saying, “You’re not even sending your army, so why should we push our soldiers into a battlefield?”

“……”

I stared at the speech of a local politician flowing out of the TV. The subtitles provided by the translator rushed by quickly.

[Why must our sons be sent to the frontline? Why must we suffer in fear every night? We are suffering day by day due to the Prime Minister’s incompetence and the indifference of powerful nations. Where is the peace and stability they speak of?]

[We must throw off the yoke of tragedy! We demand the government expel them from our country and negotiate with the rebels…]

Suddenly, the sound of nonsense vanished. The screen turned black. I nervously threw the remote and sat back in my chair.

“Such nonsense they’re spewing.”

Jake, who was watching beside me, chimed in.

“That governor? He’s one of those elected from the rebel activity region.”

“That explains it.”

“Of course, the local police need to be very careful about being picked off.”

He bent down to pick up the remote that had fallen on the floor.

“Still, our Foreign Ministry’s assessment suggests that countries actually carrying out expulsions will be limited. The resident opinions are also leaning in our favor.”

Pippin’s gaze shifted from Jake to me. The analyst reviewing the materials sent by the Abas diplomats in the World Union began to lay out optimistic prospects instead of cynicism.

“The international community’s stance is also clear. Many governments are supporting the response plan to this terrorist organization alliance. We can’t just stand by while the Mauritania continent succumbs to the threat of terrorism anymore.”

“Wasn’t that an announcement from the Kien Empire’s Foreign Ministry?”

“Yeah. To be exact, it was brought up during a meal with reporters by the ambassador based there. It seems like it will be formalized soon.”

Damn it. A day comes when the Kien Empire and the Kingdom of Abas are in agreement, eh?

It’s a warming piece of news, but knowing the backstory just leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. The support from the international community was essentially the result of pressure from the powerful nations.

If there were any countries that disagreed with the proposal, they would cut off financial aids and industrial subsidies. Governments including Abas and Kien had already delivered veiled threats during secret meetings.

It was perfect gang-like behavior, yet the governments didn’t even retaliate. For poor nations trying to escape their impoverished economy and just beginning to grow, it was akin to saying they should prepare to revert to the times of digging and eating dirt. If they didn’t want that, they had no choice but to comply.

It’s the nature of international society for the strong to gobble up everything, but this felt different. It felt like the strong were outright threatening the weak.

Of course, I wasn’t exactly a pristine example to point fingers at.

Like anyone working in the intelligence community, I had my share of skeletons in the closet. At least those who had blood on their hands, like I did, were in that situation.

“For now, let’s start drafting a list. Even if expulsions don’t come to pass, there will be regions we can blockade to prevent access. Let’s identify major candidates.”

“Should we only select rebel, warlord-controlled areas and those at risk of terror?”

“Is it that easy? Check with the Foreign Ministry lines and come up with a selection.”

“Yes.”

Pippin and Jake set to work drafting lists of regions. While Abas was using all its diplomatic power to douse the urgent fire, a significant issue remained with the cult.

For now, Saint Veronica was working hard. She was persuading the bishops and cardinals, demanding decisive actions from Cardinal Raphael.

Lucia was also not sitting idly. I knew she was in constant contact with key figures from Al-Yabd. Francesca was doing similarly. Her developed alchemical weapon systems were quite attractive to the Department of Defense officials. Any issues arising from this crisis regarding contracts would make dealing with the monsters coming over the border very challenging.

And then there was Camila…

“Where’s Camila now?”

“Hero? She went out on a mission into No Man’s Land four hours ago.”

She is diligently hunting monsters.

Even as the world becomes more chaotic, she quietly roams the desert. She said there wasn’t much she could do, but she’d still do what she can. When I asked her what that meant, she said it was monster hunting.

I didn’t know how much time was left, but it meant she intended to save as many people as she could during the remaining time. I didn’t stop her.

“Haa…”

I turned off the communication device and lay down on the field bed. I just finished contacting Warlord Hassan and Victor.

Rebels are typically interconnected, and weapon brokers have close ties with the rebel leadership. The leader of Hassan, Nasir Al-Hassan, and Victor, the weapon broker from the Kien Ministry of Defense, both brought me extensive updates on the armed groups in the Mauritania continent.

Just as I was trying to get some rest and sit at the terminal to analyze the intelligence…

The transmitter I had tucked in my bag began to blink. After powering on the eavesdropping countermeasure device, I entered the bathroom, turned on the faucet, and pressed the connection button.

“Yes, it’s Frederick.”

-‘It’s me.’

“Matt?”

I adjusted the communication device.

“You called unexpectedly. I was just about to sleep. I received intel from Hassan a moment ago that a rebel group beyond the western border is looking for bomb manufacturers…”

-‘Right now, the rebels aren’t the issue.’

Matt interrupted my sentence.

-‘We’ve run into a problem. Can you switch devices?’

“…Call back in ten minutes.”

I ended the communication and stepped into the living room. After lifting the carpet, I wedged a knife into the cracks of the planks and pulled with all my strength.

Where I pried up the board was a small pit. I dusted off the carefully hidden secret communications device and powered it on. This was equipment that could use security lines far more elaborate than the usual tools.

I threw on an Arab-style overcoat and stepped outside. After confirming that there was no tailing or surveillance, I wandered through the empty alley and established the connection.

“You can speak now.”

-‘Good.’

“What’s the problem?”

If he’s asking me to switch devices, it must be something serious.

Having arrived in an open area with no one around and with the stronger secure line device in hand, I looked around. In the meantime, Matt finally spoke up after a lengthy silence.

-‘Are you okay?’

“Yes. So who is this ‘guy’?”

-‘…A woman from Petrogard. You probably know her.’

A name popped into my mind.

-‘Ekaterina Andreyevna. You know who she is, right?’

An information officer from the Imperial Guard HQ.

-‘She just showed up in Abas.’

 

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