A Dark Fantasy Spy

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Veronica used the broadcasting equipment in the central control room to summon personnel.

The first to respond were Ibrahim and members of the Order of the Holy Knights. Having been searching the facility for the saint and remaining personnel, they rushed to the scene, and Veronica instructed them to restore the communication network.

Receiving full authority from Pope Raphael, Veronica called in ground personnel to manage the crisis. The priests, who had been anxiously worrying about whether the vampires had harmed anyone, let out deep sighs of relief upon seeing us alive and well. Their noticeably brightened faces were a bonus.

Under her command, the cult worked with Al-Yabd to restore the facility, and Camila and Francesca took a break to return to normal life.

The cult contacted the local government to prepare beds for the injured, while Al-Yabd, who called for troops from the Inquisition, conducted a general safety check of the facility. Because of Lucia, who urgently visited to heal the injured, the scholars and researchers were soon able to stand on their own.

Thus, the situation was temporarily resolved.

However, an indescribable uneasiness remained in a corner of my heart. What we had done was merely stabilize the situation, not uproot the source of the problem.

What was the root of the issue, and whose hands held the clue to solve it? I ponder slowly.

The cult that stole the holy blood. The cedar coffin found there.

Akande, who visited the necropolis to retrieve it.

A letter from the High Priest.

A single point indicated by this series of events, the one being at the center of the incident.

A knight clad in plate armor surrounded by a red halo.

Introduced himself as an angel.

Everything lies in his hands.

Whether it’s the key to unraveling the mystery, or the sword to cut through the knots.

—

Episode 17 – The Tree that Drinks Blood

To the north of the Mauritania Continent, there lies a special desert.

The northern desert area, filled with hot sunshine and soft sand, seems like an ordinary desert at first glance, but here lies a unique mystery not found in any other desert.

Sandstorms.

A gigantic wind that sweeps across the land, lasting more than a month. An anomaly and mystery symbolizing the northern Mauritania desert.

The reason this wind can last for a month is still a challenging unsolved problem in academia, but theologians of Al-Yabd explain it is due to “the wrath of God.”

According to scripture, the Earth God wept upon seeing the souls suffering in chaos and sacrificed Himself to save the wandering souls.

The Earth God, embracing the souls, tore off His own flesh to make way, and along this path flowed tears that became rivers and eventually the sea.

However, the pain from escaping chaos blackened their hearts, and the sins born from those darkened hearts filled the world. The grieving Earth God revealed a wise and meaningful person to offer salvation, and he was none other than the first prophet of Al-Yabd and the last.

The prophet, receiving the revelation of the Earth God, embarked on a journey to save the suffering souls. During this journey, he encountered an unfaithful tribe that did not follow Al-Yabd.

Fighting against those trying to kill him for over thirty hours, at the moment of crisis, the prophet kissed the feet of the Earth God and cried for help. The Earth God responded to the prophet’s plea, raising a scorching wind that annihilated the unfaithful tribe.

From this, theologians and archaeologists of Al-Yabd claim that based on the scriptures and historical records, the unfaithful tribe of the past resided somewhere in the current northern desert, and the month-long sandstorm is the “vestige of punishment cast by an angry God.”

Of course, academia does not officially recognize the theologians’ and archaeologists’ claims. The relationship between religion and science is as bad as that between China and Taiwan.

However, scholars who follow the faith of science also often likened the sandstorm to “the wrath of God.” This is because the sandstorm turned the northern desert into a barren land where humans could scarcely survive.

The research facility owned by Al-Yabd is located right in the northern desert.

“Colonel Frederick Nostrim. Your identity has been verified. You may enter.”

A local, armed with firearms, spoke in fluent Abasian.

Though armed, he was not a soldier. The group the local belonged to was not military but religious. On the arm handing over documents and identification was a patch emblazoned with Al-Yabd’s symbol.

A group that upholds the values of law and religion. The Al-Yabd Inquisition.

Their identity was the religious police under the Inquisition.

Though called religious “police,” the armed wing of the Inquisition is effectively classified as a quasi-military organization. According to international law, it is a law enforcement agency, but in intelligence agencies, it is treated as a military organization, and perhaps aware of this, they even created their own military uniforms.

It is a similar concept to the Inquisition’s classification as an espionage agency, treating the Order of the Holy Knights and the Knights Order as special forces. If you were to relate it to Earth, it would be something akin to the IRGC (Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps) in Iran.

Put negatively, it could be seen as a private military group wielded by religion.

“Take your pass. Once you head inside and turn left, you will find a checkpoint. Show it to the soldiers guarding there.”

The religious police of the Inquisition handed over the pass and informed me where to go.

While parking the car and unloading the luggage, Jake, who was in the driver’s seat, spoke up.

“Manager, we received word from the Naval Intelligence Agency that a sandstorm is approaching soon. Please be careful.”

“Where is it now?”

“It passed through the Kundahi region, 82km east, last night. It’s expected to arrive here in about 13 hours via Mazar.”

The “wrath of God” that the people of Al-Yabd speak of is soon to arrive here. I muttered to myself.

“Really sets the mood.”

“The military police will restrict movement until the storm passes the area. Once the wind dies down, they will reopen the roads, but the visibility will rapidly worsen due to sandstorms over the coming weeks, making it hard for anyone to pass through here.”

With the weather being bad, it makes it difficult for someone to come to retrieve us. Driving is only possible when visibility is good.

Normally, I would have used teleportation magic, but the sandstorm in the northern desert has somewhat special properties.

Just being near the storm dramatically increases the difficulty of magical operations, rendering magical tools and communication devices useless.

Sandstorms that hinder the use of magic. This is why people refer to it as the wrath of God. It’s also the reason why academia categorized a natural phenomenon as a mystery.

It is truly deadly; lasting more than a month makes it an ideal environment for taking lives.

“Teleportation magic won’t be usable for a while; is that alright?”

“The government has deployed special vehicles to ensure safe passage through the storm to a secure zone.”

Now that technology has advanced so much, the likelihood of someone getting killed by these mysteries has lessened, but:

Thousands of years ago, the desert empire built an unmatched natural prison here, and until a century ago, many countries in the Mauritania Continent maintained a death penalty by exiling vicious criminals to the northern desert.

In that sense, the term “wrath of God” can indeed be seen as accurate. To people of the past, the sandstorm likely appeared as the wrath of God.

Of course, it is still treated as a mystery today.

“But really, what exactly are you researching in a place like this?”

Jake, preparing to go back, suddenly asked. I replied nonchalantly.

“I said it’s a place studying the undead. What were you doing not paying attention when Pippin explained that during the briefing?”

“I heard everything that guy said. But…”

He muttered, looking around at the desolate desert.

“What on earth did you bring that you need to guard so heavily in a backwater like this?”

I slammed the car door shut.

“Things like that exist.”

—

The knight in plate armor is currently residing in the facility.

In the meeting room where the initial interrogation occurred, Veronica requested the knight to stay here. To put it accurately, it meant not to wander unnecessarily.

The knight accepted that demand. He showed no outright opposition.

While it seemed like a request to confine the innocent, the knight apparently interpreted it differently. He seemed to take it as her permission to remain here.

“It’s quite ironic, isn’t it? From their perspective, it’s akin to being kidnapped right after waking up, yet they choose to stay here.”

I raised my eyebrow and blurted out.

“Technically speaking, isn’t this a den of kidnappers? And you’re the leader of the kidnappers.”

“Colonel?”

“Yeah.”

Veronica responded with a touch of sass.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Her slender fingers stretched out, forming a sharp curve. With her middle finger raised, Veronica shot me a mean glare for daring to treat her like the head of a criminal organization.

“Ow, my bad.”

“What nonsense are you spouting? Did I kidnap you? It was you who brought me here.”

“Technically, it’s your Order of the Holy Knights that brought me here. I thought it’d be best not to take it from the start.”

“I mean, it was Matt from the Royal Intelligence Department who insisted we shouldn’t take the coffin in the first place. But weren’t both the Military Intelligence Agency and the Royal Intelligence Department government institutions of the Abas?”

Therefore, it would be hard to consider Matt and me as outsiders. In the same context, neither Ibrahim from the Order of the Holy Knights, nor Veronica from the Holy See, can be called outsiders.

Additionally, the ones who insisted on retrieving the cedar coffin as soon as it was discovered were Ibrahim and the Order of the Holy Knights.

In other words,

“It wasn’t us who caused the accident, it was the cult.”

Based on solid logic, I asserted that the culprits of the incident were the cult. And since Veronica is a saint and a representative authorized by Pope Raphael, I added that all responsibility falls on her.

In response, she opened her right middle finger, revealing her other middle finger.

“Here, eat this.”

“No, I’m seriously saying that this calamity you called upon yourselves.”

“Do you want to be interrogated?”

I had no words to offer her.

Pouting, Veronica folded her fingers and flopped down. With her arms stretched out right in front of her, her weapons were within reach, and she leaned on the desk with her chin resting on it, turning her gaze inward.

There sat a massive cube.

A transparent box made of glass and steel. A cube reminiscent of a display case. Inside it was the knight in plate armor.

The knight was confined in that giant display case designed to prevent his escape.

The saint of the cult, resting her chin on her hand, looked at the prison with a dull expression.

“They’ve really gone too far. Did they think putting me in a cage like that would keep me from escaping?”

With a detached tone, she criticized the prison. Her sharp but somewhat obscured ridicule was more akin to satire.

After the knight agreed to stay here, the cult and Al-Yabd officials strongly argued about the necessity of his confinement. Although a request had come from the High Priest to treat the knight with respect, that was hardly a reason to let him roam freely in a facility that he had turned into chaos.

Especially considering he was a monstrous force capable of overcoming even the guards of the Order of the Holy Knights and the Inquisition.

Thus, Al-Yabd procured a special prison to keep the knight from rampaging.

Of course,

“There’s no way anyone actually thinks that stuff like this would work, right?”

“Um… who knows.”

I hadn’t looked inside their heads, but they didn’t seem too confident in the prison’s safety judging by how they seem to have furnished all sorts of seals and wards around it.

“Well, while seals and wards can be meaningless, it seems to hold him physically.”

“So that’s why he’s confined in such a glass box?”

“Perhaps they decided that restraining him, even momentarily, was better than nothing. Just until before the evacuation.”

Though it was blatantly obvious that their intention was to quickly pull out personnel and escape if another accident occurred without any fighting, nonetheless.

Contrary to everyone’s concerns, the knight willingly entered the prison. And he was doing quite well. He maintained a gentle demeanor that was hardly reminiscent of the rampaging thug that had wreaked havoc through the research facility.

According to the supervising researchers, he just sat around all day doing nothing. He neither ate nor drank, merely sitting there vacantly.

Watching the knight, Veronica looked tired and mumbled.

“I really can’t figure out what he’s doing. I wonder when he sleeps.”

“Do non-humans need sleep?”

“Well, if we’re talking about the undead, it’d be more accurate to say they rest rather than sleep. Excluding those like werewolves who need sleep.”

“And what about beings that aren’t undead?”

Veronica’s shoulders shrugged once. It seemed she didn’t know that much.

For a while, we exchanged thoughts on the knight’s condition.

Interestingly, after the knight entered the prison, Veronica surprisingly took it upon herself to be on guard. She intended to watch the knight to ensure he didn’t escape, and if he dared attempt to escape, she would personally stop him.

Knowing her lazy character who avoids work like the plague, it was a miraculous turn of events.

The saint, having monitored the knight’s every move for days, looked extremely worn out. She stopped briefly to lightly rub her shoulders, then crossed her arms, turning her attention toward me.

“Oh, right. Congratulations, Colonel.”

“For what?”

“For finding a new ally.”

I responded with a grimace.

“Ugh, he’s definitely not my ally.”

The “new ally” she referred to was Akande, whom I met in the necropolis.

Akande’s identity was one of the companions prophesied about that the Inquisition and several companies had been searching for desperately.

“He fits the description, doesn’t he? A big man with tattoos all over, possessing special powers. He matched perfectly with the features reported by the Inquisition. Plus, he himself claimed to have received a prophecy.”

“No, that’s not it.”

I grumbled under my breath, shaking my head in dissatisfaction.

Upon learning that the cedar coffin recovered in the necropolis was linked to Akande, the cult thoroughly investigated his identity. Since Akande claimed to be a follower of the Earth God, they began a joint inquiry with Al-Yabd.

As it turned out, that guy was indeed the fourth companion chosen by the prophecy.

I didn’t want to accept the fact that a savage naked-crime-doer (breaking and entering, assault, etc.) was actually my ally, but:

“Our elders confirmed it too. They said they’d announce it as soon as the investigation ends.”

Since the cult and Al-Yabd officials had released an official statement, there was no way to deny it any longer.

The religion interpreting the prophecy officially recognized it, so it was only natural that it must be true, but… to be honest, on a personal level, it was difficult to accept him as my ally. How could a half-naked savage running around in the savannah beat up animals be my ally?

Yet, the more I thought about it, the more it felt I had seen that guy somewhere before.

That guy, with a tattooed head who tore the necks off Olympus gods for lighting purposes, seemed like the character I’d seen in a game.

As I thinned out my recent memories, a single word suddenly flickered through my mind.

Barbarian warrior.

The tattooed glutton I encountered in the necropolis was none other than the fourth companion blessed by the prophecy of Camila, the Barbarian Warrior.

When that realization hit, it made my head throb. I could only wish this were all a dream. No matter how much of a “barbarian” warrior he was, isn’t that over the top?

“What did your little brothers think about it?”

Veronica, supporting her head with her hand, laughed as though urging me to speak.

“Lucia thought that if he was a companion appointed by the prophecy, he wouldn’t be a bad person. Francesca seems to be looking forward to it because he seems to have a rare ability…”

“What about the hero?”

Camila?

“She was super excited. She said an angel fell from the sky and a barbarian showed up.”

Apparently, she enjoyed the Diablo game a lot.

She mentioned she started from the second part on a borrowed relative’s account and even pre-ordered the fourth part.

I had no idea how a (former) angel who tore off their own wings and turned into a black man related to the barbarian who jumped out of the coffin, but regardless, it seemed Camila was rather thrilled about the arrival of the new ally and the angel.

Certainly, I wasn’t.

As I rubbed my throbbing head, I waved my hand in annoyance.

“Let’s drop this topic. The more I think about it, the more I feel dizzy.”

“Why? Shouldn’t you be happy for finding a new ally?”

“… You’ll see when you look at him.”

Anyway, Akande is expected to arrive here once the joint investigation is complete. I had received word just a couple of days ago that the investigation should be over, so he was likely on his way to the facility right now. At the very least, he should arrive before the sandstorm.

“Well, enough small talk. Let’s get back to the investigation.”

—

When the cult and Al-Yabd decided to confine the knight,

It was as if he could foresee the future, as the knight presented one requirement before entering the prison.

He stated that he would only converse through two individuals, regardless of whether they were for discussions or anything else.

Although there were doubts about his intentions accepting this blindly, there was no alternative. There had been a request from the High Priest to treat the knight politely, so the cult couldn’t decline the demand outright. Moreover, the High Priest’s reputation was already well-known among the clerics of Al-Yabd.

Eventually, after obtaining the consent of the parties involved, the cult and Al-Yabd decided to accommodate the knight’s request.

For reference, those two were Veronica and me.

“Well then, shall we kick off another enjoyable day? Who wants to go in first?”

“You should go in first, Colonel.”

Even if Veronica may be like that, I found it puzzling why I was dragged into this at all. However, upon deeper thinking, I could understand the knight’s perspective.

The only ones currently able to communicate with the knight are essentially just me and Veronica.

The Order of the Holy Knights and Al-Yabd are strongly suspecting his identity as an undead, and both Camila and Francesca do not have favorable attitudes towards him.

Though he introduced himself as an angel, Francesca didn’t drop her suspicion, and Camila’s curiosity regarding the claim of being an angel was oddly mingled with caution due to the inhuman strength he displayed.

Most importantly, neither of the two had enough time to spend quizzing him about it. The same applied to me.

In short, the responsibility of interrogating the knight now falls on Veronica and me.

The investigation is set to occur at a time when we can meet simultaneously. Typically, I would free up my schedule for it, and that’s how we agreed upon conducting the investigation. Notably, the first formal investigation will be today.

The reasoning is simple. Veronica’s stance was that if I wasn’t there, she wouldn’t conduct the investigation.

Though she seemed capable of handling the knight alone, it was obvious that she insisted on having me present for the investigation, which was apparently openly inefficient and suspicious.

“Why do I have to be here for the investigation?”

“Because you must be there to properly handle it, right?”

“No, what power do I have? If that’s the case, wouldn’t it be fine if you went alone? I mean, you took down a demon alone before.”

Veronica smiled at me as if daring me to figure it out.

“Shh, that’s a secret.”

A secret? Bull crap.

“Are you saying you don’t want to work together nicely?”

“Working together would only lead to me getting slapped around…”

Upon hearing my response, the saint blinked blankly for a moment, then broke into a tired laugh.

“Well, you got me there.”

After our light-hearted banter, we stepped into the prison.

The knight responded immediately upon our presence in the space. Maintaining a still posture, he lifted his helmet slightly to break the silence.

“You have arrived?”

Instead of greeting him, I waved my hand. He seemed not to be a picky type when it comes to formality, as he nodded subtly in reply.

Pulling up a chair, I took out a writing utensil and casually asked light questions that hardly qualified as inquiries.

“What were you doing?”

The knight responded.

“Meditating.”

Meditation, huh. Well, anyone can meditate, not just knights. Especially religious people, some even pay to visit meditation programs on occasion.

Yet it felt a little different knowing that a knight claiming to be an angel was meditating.

“Even angels meditate, eh.”

“It’s necessary for anyone to quietly close their eyes and calmly glance at their heart.”

I wondered if we had disturbed his meditation. The knight said no.

“Not at all. I was just about to finish.”

“What do you think about while meditating?”

“Reasons.”

The reason for waking up in this place.

The knight readjusted his posture to be more comfortable for conversation. I aimed to further question him on meditation, but apparently, my intentions were easily read.

Now revealing his intent to converse, the knight spoke gently. I could instinctively sense that soon it would be my turn to answer questions.

“Was it you who discovered me at the Necropolis?”

I answered negatively.

That wasn’t a lie. The ones who first discovered the coffin were members of the Order of the Holy Knights, who had ventured into the underground.

“What transpired that led to my discovery?”

“The ones who first found you were the Holy Knights. They discovered the coffin along with the holy blood they stole from the cult while raiding the lair of Al-Kair. I didn’t arrive at the scene until after that.”

The knight displayed no visible reaction. It seemed he had no idea regarding the identities or intentions of the cult or the circumstances of how the coffin ended up there.

However, the moment I mentioned the Order of the Holy Knights, I caught the knight murmur to himself, “Are they still present?”

I felt something indescribable from his whispered words. It was a complex and subtle feeling.

I decided to throw out a timeline of events from the last few weeks and asked if he recognized anything.

“Let me first explain how the cult began tracking Al-Kair. The inciting incident was a refugee camp.”

A scene unfolded in mind of the refugees who flocked to camps for survival. People fleeing from the flames of civil war and the terror of monsters filled the refugee camp.

Lucia, leading the priests and clergy, had arrived at the refugee camp to conduct blood tests.

Medical personnel from international relief organizations drew blood from the saint and stored it in the freezer, only for it to be stolen by the invading cult.

“Realizing that the holy blood had been stolen, we proceeded to track them. The Inquisition played a key role in this.”

“What is the Inquisition?”

The knight asked me what the Inquisition was. Just as I was about to reply, Veronica answered instead.

“The Inquisition. We oversee various tasks including the investigation of heretics, forbidden literature management, doctrine supervision, criminal psychology, and religious trials. Until the Seventh General Council in 1855, we were previously known as the Holy Office under the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith.”

“……”

The moment an old, forgotten name slipped from the saint’s lips, the knight fell into a deep silence. He seemed lost in thought about something. I waited, wondering if he would speak up, but the knight remained silent even as the moments stretched.

Convinced that a reply wouldn’t come, I continued on to recount the next sequence of events.

Identifying the nature of the cult, entering the necropolis, searching through the necropolis and discovering the cedar coffin, what transpired afterward, and lastly, coming across Akande in the town we revisited.

While I finished narrating the story, the knight still preserved his silence. I urged him to share any thoughts that came to mind. Yet his ears seemed impervious to my words.

The silence endured.

The knight remained quiet, his lips and tongue heavy as if he were deeply reflecting on my words.

How much time passed? After a substantial quiet, the knight finally raised his head, directing the gaze of his helmet toward Veronica.

He locked eyes with her and broke the stillness. After a lengthy silence, the knight’s voice came through.

“…Is the Holy Office still searching for sorcerers?”

The knight asked, and the saint shook her head in response.

“If those ‘sorcerers’ you speak of are those who were wrongfully accused and burned alive, beheaded, or drowned, then no. It’s been over a century since magic has been sanctioned, and in this day, who would want to hunt witches? Even dark magicians take a beating when captured like that.”

Veronica spoke about how the now-defunct religious court and the remnants of the Inquisition have become tales of the past.

Listening to her words, the knight once more fell silent.

After about forty seconds of closed lips, the knight opened his mouth.

“I’ve heard your story. Many changes have occurred during my slumber.”

I asked him if anything had come to his mind.

“I do not know the precise intentions of those known as Al-Kair when they took my coffin. I have no guesses. Yet one thing I do know is they introduce themselves by a word derived from Ubram.”

“The one who introduced himself as a ‘Shamir’ was Akande. He testified that Al-Kair attacked the temple and seized the cedar coffin.”

“Where is that man now?”

I replied that Akande was on his way here.

When I asked if he wished to meet him, the knight responded, “Not yet, but if he wishes to meet, please do let him know.”

That was an interesting response.

“Is there any reason for the cult to kidnap you?”

“I am still being kidnapped.”

The knight spoke in a tranquil manner that he was currently being kidnapped. I looked straight at Veronica.

“See? Even he said he’s still being kidnapped. Doesn’t that make you the leader of kidnappers?”

Just as Veronica was about to extend her middle fingers in reply, she hastily lowered her hands after laying eyes on the knight. With the utmost effort, she smiled brightly, laughing as if nothing were wrong.

Of course, beneath the table, she was fiercely stomping my foot with hers.

Anyway.

“Regardless, you claim not to know Al-Kair’s purpose. No guesses whatsoever.”

“Exactly.”

“Hah…. Then why did they take the saint’s blood? You don’t appear to be a vampire in the least. What on earth were they planning to use the blood for, and why were you there? What exactly were they hoping to achieve with all this chaos…?”

At that moment.

“What did you just say?”

I looked at the knight, baffled by his curious inquiry. He leaned slightly forward, tightening his helmet in a manner that looked as though he feared my next answer.

“What? The holy blood of the saint? Or becoming reborn?”

“The latter.”

“Exactly what you said is likely tied to the core teachings of Al-Kair, which seems relevant to this incident. Precisely, ‘Be Reborn.’ What you’ll be reborn as remains uncertain.”

“……”

“Does anything come to mind for you?”

I anticipated some enriching responses; however, the return came as surprisingly deflating instead.

Once again, the knight set forth a riddle-like question.

“Allow me to ask one thing. It seems the order that found me is indeed the cult, is it not?”

“Yes. Since the Holy Knights found you.”

“Then, who awakened me?”

“I was not awakened by anyone. We did not open the coffin; it opened by itself.”

While I was in the middle of speaking, a strange feeling of curiosity washed over me, prompting me to question the knight.

“…Wasn’t it opened on its own?”

“If it wasn’t a long-time friend who awakened me, I would have thought one of you opened the coffin. Perhaps at Altiora, or Mediuss.”

The sudden and unforeseen remark caused me and Veronica to exchange glances.

Altiora refers to the Altiora Cathedral, where saints reside. Mediuss symbolizes the Cathedral of the Holy See. And the significance of the Cathedral of the Holy See, unfortunately, is associated with the Pope.

The problem, though, was that contrary to the knight’s statement, neither Veronica nor Raphael intended to awaken him.

“Why on earth would I awaken you?”

Veronica’s expression displayed clear alarm. She was so startled that she even stumbled over her words.

“…You mean it wasn’t Mediuss who awakened me?”

“Why on earth would I do that? I was actually tasked with the order to remove a vampire discovered on the Mauritania continent. What kind of absurd claim is that? Moreover, the Holy See fundamentally thought you were a vampire!”

The coffin, which was over 800 years old, visibly emitted ominous black smoke, and if that wasn’t a vampire, then what was? The coffin clearly had the aesthetic of a vampire.

It was utterly insane for the Holy See to think about opening a cedar coffin merely to awaken the vampire inside rather than to kill it instead.

Veronica stared at the knight, who was gazing at her, and at last let out a quiet sigh of disappointment.

“…This really isn’t good news.”

When even the saint cautiously opened her mouth, sensing something unsettling.

“Is it a bad sign…?”

“Unfortunately, yes. If it did not awaken due to the actions of others, it cannot mean anything good.”

I interpreted his words as a dire warning.

Upon receiving the sudden ominous news, the saint frowned. The knight rose from his seat as if preparing for something, and I instinctively figured it was time to light a cigarette.

The knight proclaimed, “I apologize for not being able to fully answer your questions until now, but there is no time to linger here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I do not know who Al-Kair is, yet I have a vague understanding of the meaning behind ‘Be Reborn.’ If my thoughts align with its significance, we mustn’t remain idle.”

The saint queried, “What meaning do you think ‘Be Reborn’ holds?”

The knight stared directly at the saint.

“I believe Al-Kair desires to become a part of colossal evil, relying on the aid of pureblood vampires. ‘Be Reborn’ is a phrase that stirred with the arrival of a particular entity in my mind.”

“What entity?”

I prompted further, hoping for insight as the knight spoke.

“A malevolent entity that extends tendrils like ravenous snakes, ensnaring the necks of people, and in their final moments, left hanging from a desolate branch. Consuming the corpses of those who endeavor to recover the dead, drawing root to increase its victims.

Travelers of the desert refer to it simply as:

The Tree that Drinks Blood.”