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It was a magical moment.

Although I couldn’t handle the divine or magic power, no other expression seemed to fit as perfectly as this.

The sky, cleared of clouds, became a field of stars, and the desert flowed with the stars of the earth.

Fireflies began to flutter above the earthen wall, one by one.

The fireflies flying from the depths of the dark vine continued their blue wingbeats, and countless stars illuminated both the sky and the ground with a green glow.

In the slowly fading starlight.

The girl, waving her red hair, turned her head.

In serene silence.

Drawing the smile of eternity.

It was a magical moment.

—

Episode 17 – The Tree that Drinks Blood

Lazily lying down, Camila hardly moved. She seemed very tired, sprawled out flat on the ground.

“Hey… this is tough…”

Camila chuckled wearily. Even as exhaustion overwhelmed her, she couldn’t help but feel good, as if unsure of how to express it.

Cautiously, I shook her.

“You’re alive, right?”

“I’m not dead…!”

“Well, that’s good.”

What a relief.

I let my limbs dangle behind me, lifting my head to gaze at the scenery that Camila had created.

A tree that drinks the blood of dozens of people. The tree was still burning. With pale flames, calm and peaceful.

“…It’s burning well.”

“Colonel.”

“Yes?”

Francesca, perched on the edge of the roof, called to me in a gentle voice. After our eyes met for a moment, she pointed with her chin, as if to say, “Look at this.”

Towards the enormous plants and the people who had turned into monsters.

“The attack has stopped.”

The grotesque creatures, which had been endlessly filled with rage and hatred towards all living things, no longer existed.

They stood as if nailed to the ground, staring vacantly at the pale, burning tree.

-…

-…

-…

As the flames blossomed in the air, blue fireflies embroidered the sky. In the wave of starlight and firelight, nature and humanity departed.

The sun sets. A halo of the moon rises. All that remains are soulless bodies and withering nature.

A lonely radiance began to shine upon the dead and the plants trapped beside the embers.

The whale guides the souls of the departed to the west as stars twinkle in the dark, silent night sky.

Francesca turned her gaze from the slum, where peace had finally come, and looked up at the sky, murmuring.

“…It’s peaceful.”

I patted my pocket and took out a cigarette, handing it to her. She borrowed my lighter.

The smoke rose. The lifeless body lay down on the ground, falling into eternal sleep. The pale flames consumed the tree, and the faint ember ignited the cigarette.

And so, we silently watched the stars flowing in the desert.

—

There is an unchanging truth in the world. A law that can also be called reason or principle.

If you borrow money, you must repay it, and if you owe a favor, you should be thankful. Life is a continuous series of choices occurring between birth and death, and thus people must take responsibility for their choices.

In that sense, we still had an unpaid balance remaining.

-Splash!

As we searched for survivors, clearing away the remnants of withered plants and dead monsters, Lucia appeared from somewhere, throwing something terrible in front of us.

It was a person.

“Uh, what the hell is this?”

“Wow…. Who is this person?”

“This is the old man who attacked you.”

The old man’s appearance was so bizarre that it was hard to describe. Sure, having bark covering the skin was one thing. But the last time we saw him, he had taken on a human form.

Now, the old man we met again had become something beyond the boundaries of humanity.

First off, his lower body merged with the tree. The upper thigh still had some form of the pelvis, but below the knee, it looked entirely like a trunk.

Whether his changes were less advanced or if he was simply small in stature, it felt like looking at the lower half of a mysterious being. He even had roots.

Small leaves and broken branches, all of that. The old man appeared before us in the unmistakable guise of a ‘tree human.’ Thankfully, I could at least recognize his face. If I couldn’t, I might have shot him thinking he was a monster.

Of course, his mental state was half-crazy.

Or maybe he was always a lunatic?

I gazed blankly at the crazy old man writhing beneath Lucia’s feet.

“Ah, ah! Aah…!”

He wailed, weeping at the sight of the burning tree.

I had no experience growing plants and had never seen a human fused with one. But at least he didn’t seem to be in a state of imminent death.

I turned my head towards Lucia.

“Why the hell is this guy still alive?”

Lucia, pressing down the wriggling old man, spoke.

“He has considerable regenerative abilities. I severed his arms and legs many times and even struck his head once, yet he survived.”

“Without a head?”

“Yes, without a head.”

Hah. What on earth is this?

I’ve heard of headless monsters, but this is the first time I’ve heard of a broken head growing back. Is this that what they call a hydra or something?

“It’s Groot!”

Camila shouted at the struggling tree human after hearing Lucia’s explanation. It was something that could be ignored.

I narrowed my eyes and glared at him.

“Who the hell does he think he is, a Dullahan or something?”

“A Dullahan is a monster from legend. Unlike vampires or werewolves, there’s no confirmed existence.”

“It might be that some sort of mutation occurred during the plant fusion process. Occasionally, there are organisms capable of granting immense regenerative power to parasites.”

“I think the citizens who transformed into monsters blocking our path seemed to regenerate like this as well… but I’m not sure.”

The group, gathered closely, exchanged opinions.

Francesca presented a hypothesis based on similar cases, and Camila supported that hypothesis with what she had observed.

“But why did you let him live?”

At that moment, I looked at Lucia with a puzzled expression.

“If you had struck him down with divinity, you could have killed him. You had the chance, why not?”

When the old man appeared, Camila felt intense nausea. Whether it was dark magic or a demon, something vile was connected with him.

And a priest’s divinity has the power to purify evil and unclean energies. Regardless of religion, if you accidentally cross paths with a priest, whether you are a demon or a dark magician, you’ll be sent to oblivion.

But Lucia didn’t kill him.

Even if she had shattered his head with a mace, she could have forced purification on him.

So why did that happen?

When I asked for the reason, she fluttered her deer-like blue eyes.

“Why should I kill him?”

“Huh? You said you were going to kill him at first, didn’t you?”

“Was it me?”

“Yes.”

“I have no memory of saying that.”

“…?”

At that moment, wondering if I had misheard, I turned to Camila and Francesca, who both had expressions of disbelief, blinking in confusion.

“Uh, what the hell… you said that! Shut your mouth and die, I said, receive my mace!”

I recited her words verbatim from memory, but Lucia’s expression remained unchanged. She still looked as if she had no clue what I was babbling about.

“How can that be considered a declaration of intent to kill? I fail to understand.”

“No, so why on earth would you say such a thing…?”

“I said it out of anger. I’m human too. Sometimes it feels unfair, and anger wells up, right? And just because this old man was told to go die doesn’t mean he’s really going to go die.”

This was the excuse of someone who had just told him to prepare to die with a mace in hand.

The excuses didn’t stop there.

Lucia started to speak in a solemn tone, as if scolding an inadequate student, like a moral teacher.

“Moreover, can a person easily harm another? No matter how wicked a person may be, life should be taken with discretion between public and private.”

This was the excuse of a priest who had just severed the old man’s limbs and bashed in his head with a mace. Truly convincing words.

If a judge had heard that, wouldn’t they have thrown him straight into prison?

“……”

“……”

“……”

It seemed everyone was thinking the same thing. A chilling silence fell over the street. No one dared to speak.

Lucia studied our expressions with an innocent look, tilting her head in confusion.

“Why do you look at me like that?”

“…No, it’s just.”

I felt as if the cult had completely collapsed.

But still, it was a relief. Everyone was safe. Furthermore, upon reflection, not killing the old man might benefit us.

After all, we had something to gain.

“Well, it’s all over now.”

“I’m glad we prevented the entire region from descending into chaos like in the North.”

With the tree dealt with, only the settlement remained.

If we were to toy with human lives and run amok throughout the continent, we had to abandon the thought of dying peacefully. We surrounded the old man, like debt collectors would surround a defaulter who had skipped town.

At that moment.

“Haha—”

He suddenly started to laugh. Perhaps he was still grasping the situation, or maybe he had completely lost his mind.

He must be completely senile.

“You’re laughing? Can you really find any humor in this right now?”

I slapped the senile old man’s cheek while saying this.

“Hey, old man. You need to get a grip. We still have some debts to settle here, alright?”

About where that tree came from and what he intended to do with it.

Why had he taken Lucia’s blood, and what was his intent in stealing the cedar coffin?

There was a mountain of information to extract from him. We also needed to verify the suspicions surrounding Al-Yabd.

“Ha ha, haha…!”

The old man, still crawling on the ground, lifted his gaze.

Even after being thoroughly beaten with a mace, the madness in his eyes remained unchanged.

“Don’t think it’s all over, unbelievers.”

The old man muttered in a voice tinged with rage, typical of delusional lunatics, shouting about falling into hell or whatever.

Even though a madman has his own brand of madness, given that this fellow was the one flipping the slum upside down, it was somewhat intimidating.

But even in his pitiful state of crawling on the ground, his ramblings barely reached anyone.

“The samples we’ve collected should be sent to the nearest Ivory Tower…”

“If we could just have access to Al-Yabd’s records…”

Having suppressed the old man, Lucia began discussing post-processing issues with Francesca. Meanwhile, Camila, with a sympathetic expression, looked down at the old man beneath her feet and quietly extended her index and middle fingers.

“—Dragon Scale, Rebound, a pair of….”

“What are you doing?”

“It’s a technique I saw on Netflix while flying, I was just wondering if I could use it.”

What on earth is that, you weeb.

Ignoring Camila as she attempted that strange technique, I kicked the old man’s head with my foot.

Thwack! With a crisp sound, his neck jerked around.

Amidst the stunned silence of Lucia and Francesca, I stared into the old man’s face.

“……”

Even in his transformation into a tree human, his bones seemed to remain. The nose-like part was tilted awkwardly.

I spat towards the now muttering old man.

“Enough with the babbling, old man. You’ve lost all your stake.”

“…..You think you’ve gained confidence by erasing one divine tree?”

“What?”

“Did you truly believe that there is only one divine tree existing in this world?”

The old man snickered. Even as bits of something that could have been teeth or wood fell from his mouth, blood streamed down. His laughter showed no signs of stopping.

“Ha ha, haha! You have no idea how long we’ve waited for this day, or how prepared we are to be saved…!”

“Hey, what the hell—”

Just as I was about to smack him again, someone grabbed my wrist from behind.

It was Lucia. She held onto my wrist and silently locked eyes with me. She shook her head, and I lowered my hand.

“Cough, cough, cough…!”

The old man seemed to find it quite funny, laughing harder. Almost as if he was prepared to die from laughter. It was the kind of laugh that someone deeply depressed, who had wasted their life away with countless drinks and smokes, might let out.

After pouring some water and taking a sip, I spat out the dust in my mouth.

I rubbed my lips.

“Did you have more wood? Our elder must really love recording things. Can you tell me where you planted them? I’ll go plant some too.”

“Hehehe… Do you think I’d tell you?”

“They all say that, but later they end up spilling the beans.”

My mouth was stretched wide. A squeaking, choking sound echoed.

You will never hear it, I thought, mocking me as if you wouldn’t catch anything from my lips.

“…….”

As I stared into the distance, crumpling the water bottle, I stood up. Suddenly, like someone who had been burned, Lucia descended from the old man’s chest.

“…Did you say you were curious about the locations of the other Divine Trees? If you want to see, go ahead.”

A chill ran down my arm.

It felt as if bugs were crawling all over my body.

With a whisper that was hard to believe came from a human, as if it were a bug’s murmur.

The old man stroked his belly and mumbled.

“Ah, just in time, there’s one tree left here.”

*

The brown bark burst open, and a festival of red flesh unfolded. The intestines flowed down as roots sprouted, and branches that had pierced through the liver and stomach grew, breaking bones and tearing flesh as they emerged.

Camila held back her retching and prepared her magic. But Frederick reached out and stopped her.

“Why!?”

“Stay still!”

He shoved his hand into his pocket.

The tree, bursting through the abdomen, was growing at a terrifying pace. It shot up like the giant beanstalk from a fairy tale.

In an instant, the old man, who had been swelling up like a pregnant woman, was hanging from the tree. His body was being sucked into the trunk up to his solar plexus, truly becoming one with the tree.

“Ah…!”

The ‘Prophet’ sighed.

He smiled like a child in his mother’s arms, gazing down at the ‘unbelievers’ beneath while murmuring in a thin voice.

“How pitiful.”

“…….”

“All that is in heaven and earth praises Him. His judgment, filled with power and wisdom, is upon you unbelievers—”

Just as he began to call for judgment.

At that moment, a voice that abruptly rang interrupted the ‘Prophet,’ forcing him to stop.

“Judgment!”

A deep voice appeared from somewhere, resounding.

Not in my ears, but in my head.

“I do enjoy this! There’s nothing more delightful than watching the evildoers burn in the fires of hell!”

Despite being a man, the moment I heard it, I felt something ominous. Even though the voice was coming from directly behind me, for some reason, I felt I shouldn’t turn around.

“Lower your voice, you fool.”

A slender resonance followed. It was a woman, and her energy was anything but ordinary.

“What did you do to be so brazen? It was because of you that I was delayed.”

The deep voice awkwardly responded to the displeasure evident in her voice.

“I’m sorry for being late! There was a little ruckus on the way! Some thugs lusting after my magnificent armor kept popping up… Can you believe they followed me all the way from the desert to the city, begging and pleading?”

“They weren’t after your armor, they were trying to kill us. And not just common thugs, but ‘demon cultists.’ Being trapped in that coffin for 800 years, have you absorbed the stupidity existing on this earth?”

“Anyway! The delay was because I was dealing with them at the city’s entrance, but now ‘Shamir’ Akande is taking care of the problem, so don’t worry! …But why is everyone gathered here? What about the demon?”

Under the looming shadow, the Prophet raised his head. What was obscuring the bright moonlit sky was—

…A knight?

“Hmm? Why are there two trees… Ah, I see now!”

Clang. The knight in plate armor banged his gauntlet and pointed at the one intertwined with the tree.

“You are the ‘false prophet’ of Al Kair! The minion of ‘Greed!'”

“…What?”

“I checked the saplings planted in the desert! Thanks to you, I had a splendid view of the changed world after 800 years—”

Now, it’s time to repay the favor.

Clang—

As the gauntlet gripped the handle, a massive hammer appeared, cutting through the night sky.

As my eyelids closed and opened again, the steel helmet was right before me.

Flying past the moonlight, it struck towards the tree.

Ramiel, who reached Al Kair’s prophet, spoke in a low, resonant voice.

“It seems you will receive plenty henceforth.”

The light vanished. Before my eyelids could even close, without a chance to react.

The full moon drew a half-moon shape.

Tonight, the dream of the boy yearning for his mother’s embrace was fulfilled.

*

[ Title: Final Report on the Field Coverage Related to the Mauritania Continent Civil War & Jamria Federation Tragedy. ]

Sender: Miss. Alice, Mauritania Continent XXX Republic – Hotel YYY 1st Floor Lobby Public Line.

Recipient: Mr. Bob, Kingdom of Abas – Avvisi 6th Floor Editorial Department.

(A photo of the tragic scene in the slums of Nabbuktu, Nabbuktushi. A military-police barricade cuts through the city of the slums. At every place the mourners and bereaved could reach, bouquets, candles, and photos are placed. The smile of the young girl in the photograph appears especially bright.)

A month has passed since the tragic incident occurred in the southern Nabbuktuj of the Jamria Federation.

On the day the religious holiday of Al-Yabd, “Aramad,” began, an unprecedented attack led to numerous deaths and injuries.

(A procession of trucks heading somewhere. Soldiers of the government stationed on an old truck’s bed are captured. The black soldiers, with indescribable expressions, do not respond to the journalist filming them. Next to the dusty road where the technicals and trucks pass, an old man with baggage on his head is seen making his escape with children who appear to be his grandchildren. There are no signs of parents in any of the photos.)

In a situation where the pain of civil war has yet to fade, the citizens of the Mauritania Continent have been engulfed in shock and sorrow.

The official announcement from the federal government states ‘5,477 dead’ and ‘8,000 injured’ / the state government’s official report says ‘2,189 dead’ and ‘6,600 injured.’

However, minority independence movements claim that a significant number of casualties have been downplayed or concealed as ‘missing.’

(A low-resolution photo. Something terrifying, unrecognizable, is blurred and processed. Judging by its outline, it seems to be wood. However, it’s unclear why the branches are stained red, where the photo was taken, and who the photographer was.)

Pointing out that similar incidents occurred throughout the Mauritania Continent alongside the Nabbuktu tragedy, claims have been raised that the number of actual victims suffering and those that have yet to be accounted could be much higher.

In response to a correspondent’s question of, “When and how many similar cases have there been?” the Holy See and the International Al-Yabd Association stated, “This is a matter we cannot confirm.”

Governments of the Mauritania Continent, including the Jamria Federation, have collectively denied the suspicions, labeling “similar incidents as absurd rumors.”

Meanwhile, the ‘Priest’ issued a statement through the Al-Yabd Association, expressing condolences for the “sad news” and wishing for the injured to shake off their pain and for the missing to safely return to their families, extending a prayer to the Earth God.

(A four-part photo. Each showing boxes of alchemical potions being unloaded at the docks/ priests arriving at refugee camps/ a foreign correspondent cowering in shock from an explosion with a huge flame engulfing a tree/ World Union Peacekeeping Force.)

Stories of heroic figures who saved the lives of others at the scene of the tragedy also drew attention.

Camila Lowell the Hero garnered attention for her ‘pale, burning mysterious flames.’ While a foreign correspondent was broadcasting live from Nabbuktu’s eastern slums, the moment flames shot at the tree was captured on screen.

Looking back at that broadcast scene, after the anchor spoke, as the journalist attempted to explain the situation, a massive whirlwind erupted, followed by a colossal explosion behind the journalist. To this, the Minister of the Magic Tower’s Knowledge Preservation Division expressed, “It’s an unfamiliar phenomenon and magic,” looking bewildered.

In another instance, Francesca Ranieri, the representative of the Magic Tower, donated enough alchemical potion quantities for 20,000 people, saying, “I empathize with the pain of the victims and their families and will support the ongoing treatment of the injured.”

Saint Lucia, who has since recovered from her injuries, also said, “I wish for the quick recovery of the tragedy’s victims,” and returned to the refugee camp. Currently, she is taking the lead in treating the victims at 14 refugee camps….

// omitted //

(An extremely old Kien military standard rifle. The photo shows an old rifle that could even smell of mold. Beside it, a religiously clad man is captured casting a sorcery into the air.)

The exact cause and instigator of the ‘Nabbuktu Tragedy’ have not been disclosed, but Imam Bashia Daralanab states that the Mauritania Continent and Jamria Federation remain in an unstable situation, precariously balancing on a tightrope.

Decades of civil war and natural disasters have resulted in serious social and economic crises for the Mauritania Continent’s countries.

This has led to the warlordization of local military organizations, the rise of new religious groups, and an increase in crime involvement among magicians and shamans.

(CCTV footage shows a sorcerer and soldiers fighting in the streets. Suddenly, the screen flickers, and some unknown entity harms both the sorcerer and the soldiers indiscriminately. When the screen brightens again, it only shows the bloodied streets.)

(A photo of a man claiming to be the Messiah. Although he appears ridiculous, the sight of countless followers surrounding him would wipe the smile off anyone’s face.)

The ‘Nabbuktu Tragedy’ has prompted many new religious groups advocating for apocalyptic beliefs and selective salvation to begin their activities in earnest, leading to clashes in some regions.

In the Mauritania Continent, when problems arise in one area, it is almost inevitable that issues will spill over to neighboring regions. The reverse is equally true. Particularly, weapons and combatants from neighboring war-torn countries where coups are frequent can freely cross borders.

(A chaotic map of the Mauritania Continent. Covering the country names, it seems easy to mistake it for an Africa or Middle East map drawn by Britain and France.)

The Jamria Federation is bordered by a highly militarized closed dictatorship, with sorcerers ‘mercenaries’ joining the warlords.

The southern region, including Nabbuktu, has been designated a special autonomous region and possesses a significant portion of highly valued resources buried in mines, oil fields, and farmland, creating an economic gap between the south and other areas, which indirectly contributes to the threat of armed conflict between regions.

Rival warlords are now pushing into the resource-rich south, taking advantage of the conflict between Asen and Sanya.

Conflict between the governor and the president over responsibility for the ‘Nabbuktu Tragedy’ is simmering, and before the pain of the tragedy can fade, signs show that disputes among warlords are about to begin.

(A photo taken at the holy site of the cult, Lateran. Cardinals and bishops with mysterious expressions, the weary old cardinals and bishops wiping off cold sweat.)

In this situation, as Saint Lucia’s claim that “there is a need to reflect and contemplate the repetitive history carried out in the name of the Gospel” has arisen, it has caused a stir not only in the Holy See but across the globe.

Experts in foreign affairs and security express concerns that, following the ‘Nabbuktu Tragedy,’ the fate of the Jamria Federation will ultimately lead to civil war, and some even argue this may evolve into ‘a more complex civil war’ rather than a relatively simple power struggle.

The end.

p.s. Please make sure to check with Steve, senpai. You can never be too careful to avoid missing things at least twice.

// RE: 2. Confirmed.

Episode 17 – The Tree That Drinks Blood – END –

 

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