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A green monster spreads its leaves and takes to the sky. Fruits hanging from the branches fall and explode, piercing sharp seeds into the walls.

A thick black smoke soared high into the sky. Sporadic explosions echoed across the ground. Gunfire followed in succession, and the black smoke enveloped the slums thickly.

The collapsing city was engulfed in fire and smoke. The smoke billowed from the city center and rose from the distant ramparts.

And far away, in the heart of the slum, a gigantic tree, as if coming from a world of innocence, shimmered with mystery.

Episode 17 – The Tree that Drinks Blood

My family burned to death.

Bright red flames. A pit filled with corpses. Stretched-out fingers digging in the sand. The loud sounds of gunfire and the metallic smell of blood.

When the steel hail poured down into the swamp, the screams that seemed never-ending faded away.

As the reddish sunset illuminated the pit, my eyelids reflexively opened.

The village was eerily quiet. The soldiers who had been scratching the triggers left with the truck long ago. Inside the burned hut, in that blood-red swamp, a boy opened his eyes.

The boy, who lost his family and neighbors in an instant, was the sole survivor, and a cruel fate guided him.

– On the 22nd, a massacre occurred in the central Jubanka region of the Bonafra Republic in southern Mauritania. This incident took place during the visit of a World Union delegation to the Bonafra Republic…

– It is estimated that over 140 nomadic residents, including women and children, have been killed. An official claimed in an interview with a correspondent that “this massacre was a terror committed by extremists”…

– However, experts suggest that this tragedy may not be unrelated to the ongoing disputes over resources such as water, land, and magic stones between the Bonafra government and nomadic tribes, as well as the enforced relocation policies…

It was unforgivable.

Yet, there was nothing one could do.

Mauritania, stained with coups and civil wars, could not embrace a boy who had lost his parents. There were countless orphaned children, and even more parents who had lost their children. Thus, the boy had to be thrown into the cold reality, learning how to survive.

He struggled to survive. Drinking from a river teeming with parasites, stealing food only to be caught and beaten until his bones broke. He could not understand why he had to go through such things, and so he cried endlessly.

He lived not by choice but out of necessity, dragging each day forward.

One day, the boy heard a ‘voice’ for the first time.

– Do not be afraid.

He saw the sparkling starlight not from the night sky but from the knothole of a tree. One tree, encountered while wandering through the desert, shook its branches, and a sweet voice echoed. With a mystery that deeply absorbed his soul, the tree caressed the boy’s spirit.

He was astounded.

He was touched.

It was beautiful.

As the gentle preaching continued, his anger faded away. Tears flowed down his lightly sand-coated cheeks. Thus, nature embraced the boy, and the boy longed for nature.

The last prophet appeared, yet the indulgent and greedy clerics merely glared at him with suspicion.

Suspicion led to insult and oppression. Then, moved by pity, the Mother sent down revelations. The celestial being gifted him seeds, placing them in his pocket.

He had to return.

Though he had left of his own accord, there was a country of glittering light that he had to someday return to.

He had to lead.

To the land of oblivion. To the land beyond memory.

To the sea of everything, which created life by reaping the earth and cutting cloth. To the primordial mother.

The boy longed for nature.

He loved nature.

With those who shared the same intention, he founded Al Kair.

Now, it was time to return, united with nature.

*

“This message is from the merciful and compassionate one, meant for the understanding people.”

Flowers bloom. The smiling faces blossom into laughter.

Those who cry out of joy and those who shed tears in confession fundamentally share the same expression.

Happiness thrives in the company of faithful believers. Everyone laughed and cried together.

“Our hearts are closed, preventing your invitation from reaching us, and our ears are blocked, causing us to misunderstand your words. There is a wall between us and you.”

Thick, sturdy roots stretch out crookedly and long. Hook-like thorns sprouted at every bent node.

Displaced leaves gently brushed against cheeks.

Thick, glossy leaves turned dark green, and the face of a madman was steeped in ecstasy. Lustrous yellow-green blooms formed clusters of indistinguishable flowers.

An unnamed plant drooped its flowers and leaves like a willow tree. The old man reached out to caress its fruits, and over time, the round fruits hanging from the branches revealed a ripe red hue.

“Therefore, you do your work. We shall do ours.”

Fruits fell, and faces emerged from fully bloomed flowers. As flowers and stems collapsed under their weight, life poured out from within.

The flowers that sprouted from the earth embraced humanity, just as a cradle embraces a baby—plants were cradling humans.

“A person, from a flower…”

Lucia’s expression hardened.

Stories of beings born from flowers frequently appear in myths, legends, and oral literature. Humans, enchanted by the beauty of flowers, praise that beauty and sometimes even sanctify it. Therefore, the life that emerges from an ideal realm is inevitably sacred and beautiful compared to other lives.

However, witnessing it in reality only evoked an intense feeling of disgust.

Humans appeared from flowers and fruits. Yet, no matter how much he looked around, he could find no healthy body.

A form that seemed half-mixed between a plant and a human, an unknown liquid oozing down in a sticky manner. With a face contorted in pain, in stark contrast were the mouth’s corners twisted into a wide grin.

There was no beauty to be found there.

Only grotesqueness remained, with sorrow swirling in the blue eyes.

“…They were eaten, weren’t they?”

The grinning humans rose. The flanged mace softly descended upon them.

Clearing the vines, he laid a man, half-bound, down on the ground.

As the roots rose, tangled wrists pressed against each other, tightly packed. Clearing away the torn stem, he caught a soldier rushing in and pinned down his neck, then pulled out the grass from the wildly overgrown torso.

The hard shell cracked, and people spilled out. The fruits that fell from the street trees exploded, and Lucia silently swung her mace, dodging the sharp seeds.

A prayer for those who could not find rest echoed through the ruins.

“Grant eternal rest to those who have departed. Let them enter peace with eternal light.”

In response, from the waves of green and brown, a heavy voice resounded.

“Do not be afraid, nor be saddened. There is the promised gospel of the heavenly kingdom for you.”

Turning his back on the flowers that vomited out the victims of the slums, the madman raised his staff high.

“The revelation from the Mother has come through the Divine Tree. I am the last prophet, the seer, and the guide that shows the right path to her.”

The waves swayed gently. The arm gripping the staff trembled with immense strength.

The madman grinned widely, raising his arms even higher.

“This is the generous gift of the one full of mercy and compassion—do not grieve or be fearful!”

As plants covered in hues of brown and green, colors existing in nature fluttered to life.

The madman slammed the ground, and the waves surged like a tsunami into the streets.

A single flash cut through the rainbow wave.

—

A colossal explosion scattered debris everywhere. The madman covered his face with his arm and collected nearby plants to defend himself.

Amongst the parted plants, Lucia’s soft voice broke through the crumbling flower petals.

“Mercy and compassion aren’t things someone like you should speak of.”

The saint descended upon the ruins. Leaping over debris taller than her, she easily approached.

Huffing, she aimed her mace at the madman.

Amidst the shimmering light, her white and green eyes flew toward the madman.

“Stay right there. I’ll be there shortly.”

Lucia glared with her bulging eyes, telling him to wait for his head to be severed.

It was what everyone desired. Even he himself. The death of a non-believer was more valuable than any other death.

Welcoming her with a kind and benevolent smile, the madman wiped the deep crimson streak down his cheek, genuinely welcoming her.

“Ah, come quickly.”

The saint advanced into the shade, diving into the densely grown plants.

*

The streets were an ashen mess of monsters and refugees.

Plants with green wings captured fleeing people and hurled them into the air. The blood and flesh of the fallen seeped into the streets, and the creeping roots greedily devoured it.

People dodging the fallen telephone poles suddenly let out screams as they stumbled. Blood flowed freely from their ankles, and tiny bodies disguised among the thick weeds bit at their ankles.

Some of these mice wormed under the fallen resident’s pant leg and began to devour his lower half.

Some late residents fleeing saw the tragedy of the person ahead and quickly turned toward an alley, only to shortly erupt into a scream that could tear the air apart.

“….”

Observing the chaotic slums, Frederick instinctively recognized the truth.

Flying low means death.

The layout of the slum resembled the shanty town he had once seen in Mogadishu. An American helicopter on a mission to capture the Somali rebel leader General Aided had been shot down there, being besieged by thousands of militias.

The same could easily happen to them. If something were to sprout from below while they were flying, they could fall straight down.

Neither should they fly high.

Even if they ascended to the maximum altitude of flying magic, they might be pursued by winged beings. Even if they could fly higher than them, that would be another problem.

Nothing was easier to identify than a target floating in the sky. Naturally, it would be easy to shoot down, and if shot down, they would die.

That left only one way.

They had to travel via rooftops.

“Don’t fly in a straight line; let’s jump to the nearby building roofs.”

Avoiding open areas and seeking spaces filled with laundry lines and illegally constructed structures below, they would ensure they were not spotted from above.

Minimizing exposure to their enemies and moving safely.

“Are you okay, Francesca?”

Frederick asked Francesca, who was preparing for flight.

Somewhere, an alchemist who had even brought a carpet tapped the cube and answered.

“Yes.”

“Let’s go right away.”

With that, a single carpet took to the skies over the now-ruined slum.

The carpet moved gently between tightly packed houses.

It maneuvered under the colorful laundry lines, beneath rooftops to shield against the scorching sun. The carpet continued its flight while utilizing the maze-like objects of the slum.

The plants below paid no attention to the carpet flying between the rooftops.

Looking up, no people were visible; there were far more people below than above.

Whenever a winged plant approached, the carpet swiftly entered an open window and vanished, then shortly emerged from the opposite window.

Francesca raced through the slum swiftly. The rising cube clanked around her, assisting her flight.

They couldn’t fly high enough to overlook the city, but they were at a sufficient altitude to survey nearby distances.

Thus, Camila, tending to the wounded, easily observed the conditions in the slum and Nabuktoo.

The northern wall was ablaze. Black smoke billowed everywhere, and the continuous sounds of gunfire and explosions hinted at the fierce combat.

The western area of the slum appeared relatively better compared to the north. While gray smoke was rising, there were fewer monsters in sight. Residents, either smart or fortunate, appeared to be lining up safely to the west.

Unlike the periphery filled with military police and refugees, the interior of the slum was silent. Literally, it was as quiet as a graveyard.

It wasn’t hard to guess the reason, so none of the three dared to look down.

In the silence, the carpet swiftly flew through buildings and onto rooftops, heading toward the tree.

To their relief, there were few monsters near the tree, contrary to what they had feared.

Only a scant few monsters roamed nearby. That many could be easily dealt with, and naturally, the remaining distance wasn’t far.

Francesca fixed her icy gaze on the tree. Feeling the warm touch on her back, Frederick exchanged glances with Camila. As he nodded that he was okay, she silently shifted her focus towards the tree.

Above the ruins from which black smoke rose, the carpet was heading toward the tree when, as a nearby building began to collapse, the three, previously silent, screamed.

A deep green pillar suddenly blocked their path.

“Die!”

A clear old man’s voice echoed from a distance. The old man was furious, and his staff sang his fury.

The towering pillar rushed toward them in the blink of an eye, aiming to erase the presence of the carpet and the three from the world.

Just as Francesca hastily changed course, a miracle occurred.

– KUGUGUGUUNNNNN!!!

The jade pillar that had been soaring like rain suddenly retreated violently. As if someone had pulled back the object mid-air.

Frederick quickly understood the situation and recognized the hero of the moment.

“Lucia!”

In response, she donned a clear smile.

“Go on. Leave this to me.”

With a smiling face, Lucia tightly hugged the jade pillar and tugged with all her might. The invasive stalks that were demolishing the walls and fences yielded helplessly to her strength.

Everyone gasped, unable to close their mouths, at the sight of Lucia, pulling the massive stalk as if she were an ant carrying something hundreds of times its weight. The scene was so absurd it was hard to believe.

“W-what…!”

The old man cried out softly.

This couldn’t be right! He raised his voice, as if something were wrong.

“It cannot be! How can you possess such strength!”

Dashing the stalk away, Lucia frowned. Thorns had pierced her palm, leaving tiny holes in her skin, with unending blood streaming down her wrist.

It was not only her palm that was in tatters. Her entire body was laden with wounds.

Her neck bore skin that rose crimson like keloids, while deep cuts left her calves exposed, revealing the muscles beneath her skin.

“….”

Gazing at her ragged hand, she clenched her fist. Withstood excruciating pain, she bled black blood.

“It’s not my power.”

In the distance, the carpet took flight. The three closest to her leaped from the rooftops, heading for the tree.

Only then did she finally felt at ease. Gripping her flanged mace tighter, she felt the searing pain and the handle grow slick with blood.

The golden sun, now hanging in the west, illuminated her.

“There is no such thing as power given without reason in this world.”

As the sunset shimmered, her blonde hair glinted with dazzling light.

It was as if gold was being melted, with the radiant glow of dusk settling above. Surrounding her began to fill with pure white light, as if a deity were bestowing a revelation. Her calm and serene appearance resembled that of one who had found peace, though the wrinkles on her face twisted as if witnessing something horrific.

“…Damn celestial bastard.”

The blackened thoughts within her poured into the world, borrowed forms of language revealing her inner turmoil. The old man murmured coldly.

“Well then, let’s see. Just how much your father in the sky loves you.”

“……”

“When his cherished child has their belly sliced open and their entrails devoured, we shall see if divine punishment descends.”

Though the continuous battles had left her in a wretched state, her fierce spirit showed no signs of fading.

The old man, irritable, swung his arm toward the trio and raised his staff towards Lucia.

-Thunk.

An ominous sound echoed in her ears. The old man lifted his head, his gaze momentarily becoming dazed.

“The…branch of the Divine Tree…!”

Before long, the staff had split in two. One half of the broken staff tumbled onto the ground. As if forgetting to lower his raised arm, the old man stared at the shattered staff in disbelief.

A strong wind brushed past. Hair flew wildly, and the tattered rags wrapping around his frail body flapped hesitantly.

-Whoosh.

The flanged mace sliced through the air, returning to its owner’s grip. Lucia lightly shook her wrist and took up her stance.

Blood froze cold. A chill more frigid than the frozen winds from across the sea coursed through her veins. Eyes, filled with wrath, turned toward the woman, and the old man’s expression hardened as he crinkled his nose.

“…Don’t even dream of dying comfortably.”

His knee buckled. Bare feet, stripped of shoes, stomped fiercely on the ground.

The ground rippled, and the plants emerging from the cracked earth burst forth with explosive energy—

-CRACKLE!!!

They all collapsed at once.

“…!”

Her jaw, clenched around gritted teeth, opened helplessly. Her wide eyes captured the Saint beyond the sinking sea.

Taking a deep breath, she let out a shallow sigh. As her swelling chest deflated, her white and azure eyes regained their tranquility.

“Do you think I look foolish enough to take the same attack again in your eyes?”

The mace spun once, and the Saint propelled herself into the air, kicking off the ground. Leaves ripped asunder spread out, revealing sharp fangs ready to devour humans.

Yellow leaves shattered like glass.

– ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶!!!

Crossing her arms, the Saint emerged through the devouring plant.

A burst of radiant light spread forth.

“I’ve finally caught you.”

Her white and azure eyes glistened like the sun gazing down upon the earth.

“Don’t run anymore.”

The soaring comet with its shining tail plunged into the forest.

*

The old man, who had been scurrying about like a mouse, finally encountered Lucia.

Although he was devoured by carnivorous plants, she used the very plant that swallowed her as a springboard, swiftly closing the distance.

At long last, after enduring numerous trials and tribulations, Lucia could swing her mace towards the old man.

-BOOM-! KABOOM-! CRUMBLE-!

The sounds of battle reverberated through the air. Even from several kilometers away, those sounds could be heard, causing many to tremble before the vivid ferocity.

Naturally, the lively atmosphere of the battlefield shared its energy with the three on the rooftop.

“Seriously not joking here!”

“What’s not a joke!? Why are you saying stuff like that now!”

“KYAAAAAH!”

As Camila, sprinting across the flat rooftop, shouted, Frederick sternly scolded her. Look at this; she just patched up a hole in her side, and now she’s lively again.

Even against unexpected attacks from emerald pillars, they continued toward their goal undeterred.

“How much further?”

Francesca, chasing from the back, asked about the distance remaining. Frederick, leaping over the railing, gauged the target distance with the keen eyesight he honed as a marksman.

“About 800 meters?”

“That’s shorter than I thought?”

“That’s based on straight distance!”

“Oh.”

The seniors at the Information Command were paragons filled with love, affection, and dedication towards their juniors. Their depth was as profound as the Mariana Trench, and their breadth encompassed the five great oceans. Truly, the description of them as paragons was fitting.

This love, affection, and dedication were reciprocated doubly to those juniors who met expectations. Those who fell short received it several times over. For instance, when a junior failed to achieve satisfactory results in a shooting evaluation.

The kind and merciful seniors would grant three chances, and those juniors who seized those chances received love expressed through hands and feet.

However, while love was evenly distributed to juniors who missed their opportunities, those who lost their minds were given stern feedback instead, with affection delivered through entrenching shovels, bats, and mental reinforcement rods.

In other words,

Frederick’s sense of distance wasn’t something he was innately gifted with; rather, it was the result of learning through experience.

To be precise, it was a product of the training he underwent in sniper squad education. Information agent or not, what was the big deal about the sharpshooting abilities of those land-hounding dogs of Albo?

Others, including his colleagues, were no exceptions, and the wails of officers he didn’t even know echoed like a refrain through the shooting range.

Thus, Frederick’s estimated distance was fairly accurate. He was reaping the fruits of love, affection, and concern passed down from his seniors. Of course, he wouldn’t feel a drop of gratitude for that, especially after getting a thumping from that bat.

Anyway.

“Let’s hurry and go! I’ll blow them away with a bomb!”

Frederick, burdened with a duffel bag filled with explosives, dashed across the rooftop.

He scaled the railing and jumped from one edge to another. Were Jake to see this, he would surely exclaim, “He’s gonna destroy his knee cartilage at this rate!”

Frederick, who had paused while carefully making his way through the laundry line, glanced up.

“What the hell is that?”

There was a plant on the rooftop. A gigantic one at that.

Behind the gaping petals, countless teeth lay bare, shocking him as he unleashed a barrage of live rounds into its maw.

Gunfire echoed through the slums, drawing the plants creeping up the walls. Vividly colored plants gathered, resembling a garden exploding with floral vibrance.

In that instant, Frederick thought to himself, Oh crap, and ceased pulling the trigger. He shouted toward Camila and Francesca.

“Run! There isn’t much time left, hurry!”

“Be careful of the ones climbing up from the alleys!”

The three of them sprinted across the rooftops, pursued by countless plants.

Amidst cries of desperation, they were fleeing for their lives.

-The building is melting!

-That’s a Nephandi! If you get eaten, you’ll melt, so be careful not to fall prey! Watch out for the poison coming from the petals!

-Camila! Can you go in there and melt some fat for us?

-Screw you!

-If done right, it will be a superior procedure to liposuction; enemies at two o’clock!

-KYAAAAH-!

The three of them desperately running for their lives looked hardly dignified. Scrapes and wounds were their standard attire.

Francesca displayed signs of poisoning from toxic plants but had recovered, her pale skin taut against the backdrop of her torn clothes that might anger the worshippers of Al-Yabd, while Frederick stomped along as if his knee cartilage was yelling, “Stop it, let me die!” without being aware.

Each bore different wounds of varying size and nature, showcasing their unique traits.

-WHOMPH.

-SCRAPE.

As fire arrows shot, the plants ignited. Green threads danced, and petals fell. Branches burst forth with energy beyond human comprehension beyond the gleaming muzzles of guns.

Elixir weapons oozing from shattered vials corroded the stems. Some froze, some wilted, and others decayed.

As she manipulated the flames fervently, Camila’s eyes widened.

“It’s a monster! It’s a monster, a monster!”

“Uh, we’re seeing too, you know? Monsters are crawling all over the place, what’s the big deal!”

“No! A quadrupedal monster has appeared!”

“What?!”

The two, who had been battling while occasionally firing and slashing, turned to the news of the unfamiliar monster’s appearance.

“…A person?”

It was a monster crawling on all fours, its body wrapped in stems and petals, resembling a humanoid creature, with several such beasts crawling across the ground.

It was real.

Frederick, unable to conceal his astonishment, muttered, “Even familiars are showing up, damn….”

“Those aren’t people, are they?”

“Looks like it…”

Not that they were sure. The only alternative to describing them was as “plant humans,” and considering there were witnesses among the deceased, any ambiguity was irrelevant.

As Francesca scanned the area, witnessing the grotesque scene of plants regurgitating humans, she conveyed the horrific reality—that only those transformed into monsters existed there.

The monsters kept replenishing.

In a war of attrition, defeat was unavoidable.

Perhaps one could gain an upper hand in a sheer firepower contest momentarily, but eventually, they would be drained of magic and overwhelmed by sheer numbers, leading only to death.

Then.

“We need to go for speed then.”

If we’re going to keep seeing new monsters, we need to call for support of our own.

Creeeak, creak.

Gears of fate began to turn. A swirling mass of magic energy formed around a core of quality magic, drawing in nearby objects.

The giant body served as a center as bones began to form, and shattered fragments of nature twisted into arms and legs.

-…WUUUUNGGG-

A summoned golem opened its eyes in response to its master’s call.

Obeying the direction of the finger pointing, the golem began pushing away any obstacle in its path.

It advanced, crushing and grinding, while its core repaired any damage it sustained along the way.

“Let’s go.”

As the distance between the tree and the three of them closed in, they were now only about 400 meters away.

“Cough…!”

The old man, defending himself against the mace that was hurtling towards his head, also took note of the situation. With a twitch of panic, he quickly assessed the trio’s position.

“NO!”

“Yes, damn it!”

As Frederick, hauling the duffel bag across the opposing rooftop, let out a crude curse, the old man’s face flushed crimson.

Do you think I’ll leave it at that!?

“Go to hell, unbelievers!”

“Where are you looking?”

In a moment, a piercing voice broke through, causing the old man to immediately twist his waist.

The mace, smeared with all manner of bodily fluids and debris, barely grazed the top of his head.

Quickly rotating the handle, Lucia altered her stance and unleashed a flurry of strikes.

The attacks were merely grazes, yet they brought a tingling sensation to his skin. A correctly landed hit could dismember limbs.

However, both knew the mace’s true power. The old man’s concentration and defense were potent, therefore, Lucia had to remove any hindrances first.

Yanking his wrist, twisting his elbow, kicking at his legs, and shoving her chest against him.

Lucia feigned an attack with the hand holding the mace while using her other hand for techniques. The old man, momentarily taken aback, deflected with ease, but a fissure formed in his focused attention.

Taking this chance, Lucia aimed to strike his chest with the palm of her hand. A debilitating pain coursed through the old man’s body as if his chest were collapsing.

“Cough…!”

Lucia hurled the mace toward the flying old man. Yet, nature, as if unwilling to watch him die, gently enveloped the old man, offering him protection.

Tsk.

Clicking her tongue softly, Lucia retrieved her mace and began assessing her condition.

Both were injured, but when dissecting the details, it was she who was in a worse position.

For in this showdown, the old man had more to concern himself with than just the mace. She faced a multitude of issues including dwindling resources, energy management, and the missing priests.

In a one-on-one scenario, the one at a disadvantage would ultimately be Lucia.

Therefore, given the assumption that it was a one-on-one.

“It’s right in front of us!”

Camila, leaping over rooftops, shouted without noticing she had snagged her foot on the clothesline.

The tree was now right before their eyes.

Certainly, they still had a few more rooftops to cross, but this was close enough.

“Francesca, use the cube!”

Until now, she had been wary of depleting her magic. But that concern was about to end.

At Camila’s loud shout, Francesca responded dutifully.

Green magic flowed into the patterns engraved onto the fragments, and it began assembling itself like a puzzle.

Activating the archmage’s magical tool, the alchemist spread a carpet beside her.

“Get on.”

“Okay!”

 

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