A Dark Fantasy Spy

---

“What was that sound? Are we about to get caught?”

“The explanation is a bit lengthy.”

As I continued my communication with Camila, the keffiyeh wrapped around my head began to feel bothersome.

A rough hand tugged at the fabric.

The neatly tied shimag came undone without much resistance. However, the act of loosening the knot revealed a slight hesitation, and the dried bloodstains added an unsettling sense of danger.

“…….”

I wiped the blood clinging to the knife with the shimag.

Then, hurriedly, I rushed to the bathroom to wash away the blood and quickly scanned my surroundings while grabbing the communication device.

“…Francesca has been spotted.”

—

Episode 17 – The Blood-Drinking Tree

—

It was a trivial mission.

Gathering intel on the cult members who had stolen Lucia’s blood.

The Necropolis was an area even the Royal Intelligence Department and the Military Intelligence Agency knew little about, making the help of collaborators not just an option but a necessity. We contacted the notorious “Abyssal Devourer,” known for its extensive connections at the port of the dead whale.

It was a meaningless task.

A middle stage operation aimed at blood recovery and thwarting the cultists’ plans.

In the process of an information agency achieving its final objectives, contacting local armed factions occurs frequently, and I had done it dozens of times. Bringing back information acquired by cultists was something I could do with my eyes closed by now.

Yet,

“Isn’t that Ranieri?”

At the warehouse where I went to verify identities before the transaction, a woman lingering near the exit mumbled as she gazed at Francesca.

“What, Ranieri? Francesca Ranieri?”

“Yeah, that person over there. Doesn’t she look familiar? Doesn’t she resemble Ranieri?”

The woman turned out to be a magician.

Her tattered and faded garments resembled rags more than clothing, but the hooded cloak was a clear symbol of a magician.

While smoking a cigarette at the exit, she exchanged banter with a male magician presumed to be in her company, both of them staring intently at Francesca. Since Francesca was passing through with her hat down, their gaze remained only on her back.

“Is that really Ranieri? I can’t tell just from the back.”

“I saw her clearly, I swear.”

The Abyssal Devourer instructed everyone except the magicians with business to wait outside.

As a former noble, I had to linger near the exit, allowing me to overhear the conversation between the two exiles.

“But what’s wrong with you?”

“Why the fuss?”

“Think about it logically. What reason would Ranieri have to come all the way to the Necropolis when there are plenty of people around here who dislike the Magic Tower? It’s too dangerous….”

The male magician, with his cape draped over his shoulders, shook his head. He was scolding the woman without realizing Francesca’s true identity.

The issue lay with the woman.

“Ah, but I’m telling you! I saw her earlier as she walked by—it was really Ranieri!”

The female magician, characterized by her heavy makeup, insisted that the one who entered the warehouse was Francesca. And she spoke with great conviction.

Kair began to exchange glances. While holding his nose against the cigarette smell, the beastman’s hand cautiously crept toward his assault rifle, while I quietly shook my head to caution the information officer.

Meanwhile, the exiles’ debate raged on.

The man argued they should just leave and not poke the bear with other exiles. In contrast, the woman stubbornly insisted to at least see her face.

“Have you already forgotten what happened last month? Those Fabulas thought an innocent noble was a spy sent by the Magic Tower and ended up getting their heads chopped off in a duel. It was total chaos; what if we end up capturing another innocent?”

“We just need to catch a glimpse of her face!”

“She looked like a newbie. Let’s just leave quietly. I’m hungry.”

“What’s hunger to you? You probably want to head back to the pit again.”

“Hey, back then, it was the kids who wanted to go, so I just went along!”

The two arguments were evenly matched.

However, unless a particularly serious issue arose, in fights between men and women who had feelings for each other, the woman usually has the advantage. The man, realizing he was at a disadvantage in this betting match, ultimately raised the white flag.

“Fine. We’ll just take a look at her face.”

“Yes! I’ll take care of it, so you just keep your mouth shut and watch~.”

“…….”

I swept my left arm across my forearm. Upon seeing that motion, Kair, who was looking at my face, vanished into the alley with his rifle.

And not long after.

“I’ve brought back intel. As you advised, to avoid suspicion, I bought additional information, and Joaquin is packing up, so he should be out soon. Wait, where did the Colonel go?”

“Oh, he stepped out for a moment…!”

As Francesca was about to come out, I returned to my spot after efficiently resolving issues alongside Kair.

I had cleared potential danger of revealing an information agent’s identity and acquired the intelligence we needed. Now, all that was left was to return to base.

Surely, that was how it was supposed to be.

“Wah-hoo! Guys! We’re all screwed! Some loudmouthed exile who was in the warehouse recognized Francesca and squealed on us!”

Joaquin burst out of the warehouse, clutching his flowing cape as he shouted.

“What?!”

“Damn it! If I get caught explaining, I’ll have my skin peeled off, so we need to run until our feet drown in sweat, until the eternal snow of Parangasan melts!”

—

We retreated to a shabby abandoned house on the outskirts of the Necropolis.

It was a rundown place we had identified beforehand based on Joaquin’s advice and personal reconnaissance, and we were instructed to regroup here in case of an emergency.

We knew it had long been deserted, but since there might be homeless people living there, we searched inside first and brought the rest of the group inside.

Though safety was secured, no one dared to let their guard down. To be more precise, it was more accurate to say they could not let it down.

“…What happened?”

Francesca, lifting her hat, asked with a voice that, while uncertain, had a hint of coldness.

“Some crazy bastard recognized you.”

“An exile recognized me?”

“Yep.”

Joaquin, who barely escaped with his life, took a harsh breath before continuing.

“You remember that fellow we passed in the hallway? The one with the brownish head? That was him.”

“…Santino. So it was that guy, huh?”

Francesca murmured one name. When I asked who that was, the answer came back that he was a particularly vicious exile.

“He’s a hired assassin, wanted for 37 counts of first-degree murder, and he received an expulsion order as a result of violating the rules by killing police magicians during his capture.”

Based on what I heard, he seemed to be quite a well-known wanted criminal in and around the Magic Tower. They say he will kill anyone for money, regardless of whether they are a magician or a civilian….

“How on earth did he recognize you?”

Francesca gave a brief explanation as if there was nothing to hide.

“He possesses a detection ability.”

“A mystic?”

Joaquin added.

“It’s not like he can detect an extensive area like search magic, but if he gets close enough, he can see through disguises. The magical tools are only a matter of time before they get penetrated.”

For there to be a mystic, who is rarer than those suffering from rare diseases worldwide, right in the Necropolis was unfortunate.

As it was a gathering place for exiles, someone among the residents could potentially recognize Francesca, which I had anticipated.

So we had gotten disguised with magical tools and even issued fake ID cards.

…Damn it.

“…….”

“…….”

Silence befell us.

“I’m sorry, everyone. I should have been more careful….”

Joaquin, who had taken a puff from the marijuana, repeatedly apologized without lighting it.

Honestly, I didn’t doubt the possibility of the stoner magician leaking information. Rather than saying that a mystic suddenly popped up to pierce through disguises, it felt more plausible that Joaquin had sold out Francesca.

But, thinking it through, he had no reason to sell Francesca out.

If Joaquin had really intended to rat her out from the start, he could have ambushed us while we were asleep or revealed her identity before leaving the warehouse. There was no need for him to wait for Francesca to join us.

It’s common knowledge among thugs that it’s easier to deal with two small groups than to tackle four at once. Francesca didn’t seem to suspect anything either.

Breaking the silence that had enveloped us, I carefully spoke up.

“…Let’s do this.”

—

First of all, we decided to continue with the mission.

It was indeed true that Francesca’s infiltration into the Necropolis had been exposed, and by extension, Joaquin’s situation had become precarious as well.

However, the underground city was spacious enough to hide five of us, and Joaquin’s experience and knowledge remained valuable.

“Is there a way to move around the Necropolis?”

“Given our current condition, that’s absolutely impossible. Both Francesca and I need to hide for the time being.”

Someone had to venture out at the cost of their safety to gather intelligence and monitor the city’s situation.

Francesca and Joaquin were excluded from that task. The ID Francesca possessed could no longer be used, and Joaquin, who had led a reconnaissance mission in the Magic Tower, couldn’t carelessly head out either.

Thus, the responsibility for information collection and tracking developments naturally fell to the information officer.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Just leave it to me.”

Kair, whose identity was undisclosed, was the one among us capable of moving most freely, and as a beastman, he had more mobility compared to any other non-human races.

Disguised as a mercenary, Kair set off to scout. His goal was to obtain information from the beastman, other mercenaries, slaves, and magicians.

And the results came in.

“I’ve asked the beastmen.”

“How’s the situation?”

“It doesn’t seem to be a problem for now.”

The overall atmosphere of the Necropolis hadn’t drastically changed compared to the morning.

This meant that the Abyssal Devourer had yet to widely inform others of Francesca’s infiltration.

Kair seemed to be unable to figure out why the cult organization was hiding the news of a magician from the Magic Tower sneaking into the Necropolis.

But we had a way to comprehend the intentions of the cult organization.

“It’s because of the festival.”

A resident and collaborator of the Necropolis, Joaquin began explaining about the Abyssal Devourer and the underground city’s ecosystem.

“The festival is coming up soon. It’s an event to commemorate the founding of the Necropolis.”

“A commemorative event?”

“Yeah, it’s like a National Foundation Day or a Constitution Day.”

The festival celebrating the birth of the Necropolis, an event the residents referred to as ‘Walpurga’s Night.’

Joaquin continued, his voice tinged with excitement.

“It’s a very important anniversary! For exiles and cultists alike, it’s a joyful celebration where anyone can eat and drink until their bellies are full.”

“Is the Walpurga’s Night festival so valuable that it’s worth hiding the information of a magician from the Magic Tower sneaking in?”

“Of course!”

Though, as someone who had once worked as a counterintelligence advisor in the domestic department, I found it somewhat perplexing, but Joaquin shook his head, asserting that he didn’t know what he was talking about.

The current drug culprit looked at me seriously.

“The Walpurga’s Night isn’t just a simple festival. It’s a monumental day to celebrate the birth of a city that has provided a haven for the homeless. If something goes wrong right before the festival, what do you think will happen?”

If word got out that a magician from the Magic Tower has infiltrated during the Necropolis’s anniversary, public sentiment would be in an uproar.

The discussion pivoted to the connection between the festival and the regime. Summing up Joaquin’s long explanation simply, it went like this.

“The Necropolis may appear to be one city, but within, countless people coexist—exiles, cultists, adventurers, smugglers….”

“The city acts as a medium to unite the various groups. But if a certain group seizes power, they could just expel those they don’t like, right?”

“So whether it’s exiles or cultists, everyone runs their own respective territories independently. The 6th Avenue of the Ash tree belongs to the Blind Snake, while the 8th Avenue is controlled by the Abyssal Devourer. Interfering with someone else’s space is strictly forbidden. Major citywide affairs are decided in meetings attended by representatives of numerous factions.”

“The host of the Walpurga’s Night is chosen every year through a lottery. And by the way, this year, the hosts are the Abyssal Devourer.”

In other words, they decided to keep things quiet for now to prevent an incident from arising during their own event.

Joaquin explained that any group showing weakness in the Necropolis would quickly become prey. The law of the jungle always favored the strong.

“Joaquin, you said the Abyssal Devourer is one of those parties who are second to none among the cultists, right?”

“Yep.”

“I’ve heard that they have a competitive relationship with the Blind Snake, so moving past that, how many people out there dislike those guys?”

“A lot! Businessmen hate them for monopolizing trade routes, resulting in inflated prices, and fishermen are annoyed because they block their fishing expeditions unless they pay rent. As for exiles… well, all cultists generally dislike them!”

“When is the festival?”

“Wait a minute, what day is it today…? The actual event is on Saturday, but the celebratory atmosphere usually kicks in Friday night. The fellow who lives next door told me to come over for some dinner around evening at the Bare Mountain Inn.”

“It’s Friday then.”

Today is Wednesday.

Two days from now, the city would begin to revel in celebration.

Suddenly, Joaquin, who had been smoking marijuana in the dusty hideout jumped up and shouted.

“…Oh, right! The arena will be open that day; I completely forgot!”

“To think of gambling even in such a situation, you truly have lost your mind…!”

As Joaquin’s shouting echoed, Charnoy’s finger began to spin, pointing at his head.

“…….”

I lit a cigarette and fell into thought.

Having grasped the city’s intricacies, I roughly calculated how the Abyssal Devourers would act moving forward. They would likely seek Francesca quietly until after the Walpurga’s Night was over.

Then, we needed to strike against the cultists before the festival ended.

After checking the information Francesca obtained, I took out my mobile phone and exited the abandoned house.

And not long after.

-“Hello?”

“Camila.”

I had reached her.

—

The screen of the mobile phone, which had cut off the conversation, turned to black.

With the windows sliding down silently, only the tire-scarred sand and the mobile phone remained in the desert.

The sound of friction from passing gravel roads and the noise of the air conditioner cooling down the heated air.

And then, from beyond the passenger seat came a voice.

“Yes, Commander. I just received the coordinates.”

A man with a heavy voice spoke into the radio.

“We will definitely recover the holy blood.”

In the back seat were men clasping their hands in prayer.

“Then, we will meet at the Holy Land.”

Click.

As the communication ended, the men’s hands dropped. The noise of the weapons clashing with the bulletproof vests echoed.

The man in the passenger seat looked around at the procession.

The dimly lit wasteland was eerily silent, not worthy of its grand scale.

Sand tapping against the glass obscured the view, as the desolate landscape flowed like a panorama.

The camouflage patterns of their combat uniforms were hardly distinguishable from the scenery outside.

-Click.

The man in the passenger seat stretched out his hand and pressed the radio.

“…and Gregori-6 broadcasts to all Gregoris.”

The parade of vehicles crossed the wasteland.

The truck filled with soldiers pressed onward, cutting through the desert’s darkness, while the radio embedded in the bulletproof vest carried Ibrahim’s voice.

“Prepare for combat.”