A Dark Fantasy Spy

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I checked on the ongoing business, separate from chasing the cultists in the Necropolis.

-‘The signal’s not great. Where are you?’

“Underground. Both radio and magic signals are fried; it’s been a hassle.”

As soon as the communication connected, I updated Matt on the current situation. We had arrived at our destination.

Matt expressed relief, saying it was a relief we made it safely.

-‘Glad to hear you reached without a hitch.’

Holding the brick-like communication device, I continued the conversation with Matt. Since there were battery issues, it was better to keep it concise with questions and answers.

“What about Athen and Sanya’s movements?”

-‘According to the intel you gathered, the two warlords have launched an offensive.’

Today marked the third month of the war, and the warlords had begun their assault again.

Of course, we had received that news quite some time ago. Hassan’s intelligence, having avoided the flames of conflict, topped the charts among the three warlords.

Matt pointed out the offensive starting just before the Al-Yabd pilgrimage period.

-‘The pilgrimage is a sacred religious ceremony of Al-Yabd, so they wouldn’t want to spill blood during a blessed period. The offense is likely to end as the pilgrimage begins.’

“As long as neither Athen nor Sanya is pushed back, they’ll probably declare a temporary ceasefire around that time.”

I urged for tightened intel gathering on Athen and Sanya. With someone like Matt, he’d surely handle it.

After finishing the business talk, trivial chatter kicked off. Of course, just trivial by our standards.

“Are Camila and Lucia safe?”

-‘The Hero and Saint are as usual. The Hero, along with the Peacekeeping Force, ventured into No Man’s Land again and took down another monster. An Arachne. A giant spider that could knock back a seven-story building.’

A spider. A monster the size of a building had been taken down in the northern regions of the Empire, and it seemed she faced yet another spider this time.

I felt too numb to even be surprised.

Camila, dispatched as a firefighter to No Man’s Land, was sweeping away monsters like a fish in water, breaking records daily. I wondered if she was overdoing it, but then again…

Anyway, thankful to hear they were safe.

After Camila’s turn, I got news about Lucia. While caring for patients at the refugee camp, she’d heard rumors of multiple casualties in the border region and headed to the frontlines with the clergy of the order.

Notably, that front was not far from Camila’s area of operation. The cause of casualties? They blamed the shamans.

-‘Looks like the warlord’s kids are losing their minds. Hearing you guys were there, the government troops launched a preemptive attack on the rebel-held territories, but they ended up losing and two cities fell into the warlords’ hands.’

“Ah… those damn idiots….”

-‘On the bright side, the warlords tolerated the Saint’s humanitarian efforts. They guaranteed safety on the condition that only civilian casualties would be dealt with.’

“And the civilian casualties for the government troops?”

-‘No help there. They allow rescuing civilians but refuse to let pagans interfere with Mauritania’s matters. Treatment is strictly for civilians; they’ve been told to treat patients at designated hospitals only, and if they dare treat government soldiers, they’ll blow the hospital sky high.’

What a nightmare. Whether it was Al-Qaeda or the Taliban.

I clenched a cigarette and frowned. I resolved to deal with the neighboring warlords soon.

Just when I was about to wrap up the communication, Matt threw a question my way.

-‘By the way, how’s the Necropolis? Have you made contact with the collaborator?’

“Ah, well….”

I had found a collaborator, but…

The condition was a bit….

I trailed off awkwardly and turned my head.

In my line of sight was a magician shaking it enthusiastically, holding a bottle and a cannabis joint.

—

Episode 17 – The Tree That Drinks Blood

—

Just as Matt wrapped up communications and prepared to contact the warlords.

The magician, still vigorously swinging his hips, introduced himself.

“I’m Joaquin Rapha Goodmann. Call me Joaquin, and my last name is Goodmann.”

Joaquin Goodmann.

That was this magician’s name.

“Most people call me Joaquin, but I prefer being called by my last name.”

Unlike his last name, which means ‘good,’ Joaquin’s state was hardly good.

His hair was a wild mess, looking as if it hadn’t seen a haircut in ages, and his shirt, seemingly forgotten in the concept of cleaning, was stained with what looked like drool.

The problems were more than a few.

“Uh… didn’t I leave a bottle of liquor around? Is this it? No, this is a reagent. When did I make this…?”

Joaquin mumbled while rummaging through a cabinet filled with unidentifiable glass bottles. He looked like a total lunatic.

To be fair, hygiene was out the window, but one could lose their senses sometimes.

Keeping chemical reagents and dishes in the same cabinet was another issue. The workshop was cramped, and I recalled Ayla had once done something similar with her magic experiment equipment in her living space. So, that was okay.

But this dude was obviously high as a kite.

“…Found it! Ha-ha!”

Amidst the chaos, Joaquin waved something in the air. It was a whiskey bottle, caked in grime.

A 50-degree liquor sloshed around as Joaquin popped the cap and shoved the bottle to his mouth, guzzling it down like there was no tomorrow.

-Gulp, gulp…!

With each swig, his throat vibrant with every gulp.

The crazy magician, having downed the bottle in one go, grabbed the cannabis joint he had been holding.

“Ahh, this is it, my sh*t….”

“…….”

Setting the liquor bottle down with a clatter, the magician continued his introduction. It was supposed to be an introduction, but in reality, it was just rambling while intoxicated.

“I’d be happy if you called me Goodmann, but anything’s fine; Goodmann, Joaquin, Rapha, hey you over there, you….”

“…….”

“But who are you? How dare you break into my place! Huh?!”

Staggering and slurring his words.

Avoiding eye contact with the stoned Joaquin, I turned to Francesca.

“…Was this really the best option?”

Francesca shrugged while surveying the workshop.

“This town is insane. A character like Joaquin is considered pretty ordinary. But he does get things done, so you can trust him.”

“Shouldn’t we have cleared the cannabis first…?”

Sure enough, a loud crash followed, and the magician darted into the bathroom, flinging the window open while yelling.

“I am the king of the world!”

“…….”

I looked up at the ceiling instead of the sky. I felt like tears would spill out otherwise.

An alchemist, a colonel, a beastman, and a nymph, in addition to a stoner.

What a maddening combination.

What the hell do I do now…?

*

Where the hell did this idiot come from? Regardless of the situation, we had work to do.

We decided to stick to our plan.

“From now on, we will search for the cultists. Judging by the timeline, those who crossed the border from the camp should have entered the city yesterday.”

Joined by the internal collaborator, we began the search for the cultists.

I was in command of the operation.

I assigned the information officers their tasks.

“To pinpoint the exact location of the goods, we first need to know the cultists’ position. Since tracking magical tools have limitations, we will track them without any magical tools. Kair?”

“Nya.”

“You will find their approximate location.”

The difference between this neighborhood and the rest of the world lies in the presence of various intelligent beings.

The world is largely maintained around humans, so in that aspect, these places don’t differ much. However, the presence of sentient races apart from humans is a distinctive feature here.

Beastmen are known to have the most acute senses among intelligent races, excelling in auditory and visual perception, alongside touch, taste, and smell.

We were going to use that very characteristic to find the cultists.

I pulled out a large sealed container from my bag and placed it on the table. Inside the tightly sealed jar was a fragment of an old cloth.

“This is a part of clothing collected from the barbed wire at the outskirts of the camp. When we checked the surveillance, we saw that the cultists attempted to jump over and got caught in the barbed wire.”

This was what they had left behind.

“…Sniff, sniff.”

Kair opened the sealed container to take a whiff. Just slightly cracking it open elicited an immediate reaction.

Ears twitching and fur bristling, Kair made a powerful leap to the rooftop with that characteristic beastman agility.

As I closed the sealed container, I continued my explanation.

“Now that Kair’s sense of smell is on it, I will search in that direction with my tracker.”

The tracker set up by the warlords was a consumer model, but still, magic was magic.

Even a minuscule amount of magical energy would initially be detectable. As long as I tangled around stealthily, moving in the direction the tracker indicated, we’d gradually catch a clear reading of the tracking magic’s energy.

And that would be the cultists’ base.

“I found their scent. It’s to the west. It’s a far area from here.”

Having completed the search, Kair returned, tapping a compass with her claw, pointing in the direction of the cultists’ presence.

I packed up the tracking device and looked at the three of them.

“With a location confirmed, let’s get moving. Francesca, you follow me, and Kair, please reconfirm their exact location.”

“Uh… where’s that Charnoy going…?”

Charnoy, still seated at the table, raised her hand to ask a question. While I gathered my gear for the field, I handed my coat to Francesca and spoke.

“You’re staying here.”

“…Huh? What’s that supposed to mean…?”

We needed someone to guard our gear.

While Kair adjusted her rifle’s sling, I opened the door for the beastman to leave. I handed Charnoy the radio and a piece of candy (contains 0.002% synthetic honey).

“Keep a close watch on things. As soon as that guy comes to his senses, get on the radio.”

“I’m telling you, that damn black-haired beast is abandoning Charnoy!”

I could hear the shouting about nymph discrimination or filing a complaint with the labor office.

But alas, Charnoy’s protests couldn’t pierce through the thick door.

Slamming the scorched door shut, I stepped out with Francesca, heading west.

*

The search was carried out cautiously.

-‘From the south to the west. The scent is coming from the direction where the air is flowing.’

Kair continued transmitting from the rooftops.

In a big city, if a beastman were to leap between buildings, the police would come rushing and fine them, but this wasn’t a metropolis. This was the Necropolis.

A city built by magicians for magicians.

An underbelly magic tower where no public authority could clamp down.

“I just scouted the area, and there’s nothing here.”

“It might be due to the buildings and plants. Magic weakens as it passes through objects.”

Francesca observed the Necropolis scenery and shared the information she had gathered.

“I just noticed—these plants and animals here all contain magic. It’s not natural.”

“They’re artificially cultivated plants.”

“That’s a cause, but it seems more likely it’s due to the species. The plants used for magical reagents possess more magic than typical plants.”

I listened to her explanation while scanning the flora scattered around us.

From ornamental flowerbeds to greenhouse plants, even the pots by the windows and the gaps on the main street.

Plants blooming all over the city were infused with magic. All were magical plants used in alchemy and magic.

“It’s fascinating to see plants thriving everywhere. Such plants can’t be cultivated without permission.”

“They also need to be grown in designated areas. The magic tower regulates indiscriminate cultivation, but perhaps not here.”

“Because it’s the Necropolis.”

There wouldn’t be any sense of legality among those who broke the rules and were banished from magical society. If they hadn’t done what they were told not to, they wouldn’t even have a reason to live here in the first place.

I hid the tracker and asked the question I’d wanted to since a while ago.

“But how did Joaquin end up expelled from the magic tower? Did he break the laws?”

“Well, he didn’t break the laws. He violated academic regulations and the penal code, though.”

Upon hearing, I realized Joaquin, the internal collaborator, wasn’t an exile. Exile only came as a punishment for breaking the laws.

Francesca iterated that he was a criminal who violated the magic tower laws. She added he committed illegal acts and fled to dodge punishment from the tower.

What kind of crime could prompt someone to come all the way here?

Bearing those questions in mind, I asked Francesca, who continued with an indifferent expression.

“He got caught growing cannabis in the alchemical department’s greenhouse.”

“…Ah. Well, I guess he tried to grow it to pay for tuition.”

“No, he was growing it for his own use. He was cultivating it in his shared flat when a complaint was filed.”

“…….”

What a wild story.

Feeling utterly baffled by the collaborator’s past, I decided to halt those thoughts. I shoved the tracker and plunged into the alley of the Necropolis.

It hadn’t even been a full day since I entered this city, yet I had seen the guttering underbelly of it in half a day. That’s how shadowy the back alleys of the Necropolis were.

Like a testament that the ground had depths below depths.

As I scoured through the pits of the place, I gradually started to slow my steps.

“…….”

The tracker illuminated a faint green light.

“It’s lit up.”

—

To the right.

—

I held the magic tool in my left hand, ready to draw my weapon with my right.

-Beep… beep….

The green dot moved along the edge.

No matter how I turned, the magic tool was directing me one way.

-Beep….

Navigating out of the alley, passing streets, and rounding corners, the faint dot grew increasingly bright.

As the distance narrowed, when that dot pointed in one direction—

-Ding!

As I caught a faint beep, I raised my head to observe my surroundings.

“…Francesca.”

“Yes, Colonel.”

“Prepare long-range communication magic.”

“Where’s the destination?”

“Refugee camp.”

I turned off the tracker and redirected my steps.

“Relay that we found them.”