A Dark Fantasy Spy

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A line of smoke wove through the city like white paint splashed on a black canvas.

The distant sound of gunfire was surprisingly calm. The soldiers’ checkpoints scattered throughout the area and the endless lines of refugees fleeing looked no more than small backgrounds in a painting.

Occasionally, the clamor of battle resembling roasting beans could be heard, but there was little time to be alarmed. People simply gathered their wits and continued doing what was necessary, as if nothing had happened.

It’s been 27 years.

The long-standing conflict between the provinces and the central government has been escalating into civil war for nearly 30 years now. Sometimes warlords bleed each other over a patch of land, or the government forces clash with rebels. Other times, they briefly lay down their arms to negotiate.

But like trying to fill the sea with your hands, the valley of conflict only deepened, devouring lives like a swamp.

Matt, the Operations Team Leader of the Royal Intelligence Department, surveyed the rebel-controlled area with an impassive gaze.

“It’s been nine years, and it’s still as unfamiliar as ever. I suppose this place hasn’t changed at all.”

An elderly man, wreathed in a faint smile, replied.

“Is there any way to end a civil war easily?”

Sitting on a worn-out chair at the center of a well-kept garden, the old man seemed light-years away from the battlefield filled with gunfire and bullets.

The old man sat on a cushion, puffing on a water pipe. The sweet and tangy scent of sherbet lingered in his mouth, mingling nicely with the gentle aroma of the water pipe, putting him in a good mood.

Matt shared a casual chat with the old man, sipping on bitter coffee brewed with sand. It was an ordinary scene, resembling a commonplace exchange anywhere.

At least, on the surface.

As Matt was leaving the garden, the old man saw him off. A figure appeared behind him, one of the information officers from the Royal Intelligence Department on guard nearby.

“Team Leader. Did your conversation go well?”

“Got everything I needed.”

They obtained what they had to and provided what they owed. Information exchanges were always a two-way street; it was never just one-sided.

Having wrapped up his meeting with the rebel elder, Matt handed an envelope to a team member. The brown document bag glimmered as if just out of the oven.

Matt relayed the intel from the elder to his subordinate.

“The Asen Tribe and Sanya Tribe are entering a ceasefire. Their executives plan to halt combat for a month, ending with the final negotiations around the 7th.”

The grandest festival throughout all of Mauritania, the Aramad, celebrated the highest holiday of Al-Yabd.

To the adherents of the Earth God, who hold tradition dear, the Aramad is no mere religious holiday. It’s a grand act of faith, fulfilling divine obligations, caring for the weak and neighbors through moderation by day and generosity by night, and undertaking a pilgrimage to the holy land.

Since it’s deemed a sacred festival, bloodshed is considered ominous.

If combat ensues during the Aramad, the sensitive patrons and warlord executives would react sharply. Especially since this would be a conflict among brethren who worship the same Earth God.

Moreover, given the month-long festivities comprising both day and night, fatigue is inevitable.

Thus, the warlords agreed to cease all hostilities and enter into a truce for the Aramad.

As expected.

“Well, my analysis was correct. What does the Director have to say?”

The Royal Intelligence Department officer posed the question to Matt, inquiring about the higher-ups’ reactions.

Matt shrugged nonchalantly, replying without concern.

“He said to blow up the negotiating venue.”

“Again?”

“Yep.”

The subordinate started to look aghast, glancing at his superior.

“Didn’t chaos break out last time when the warlord executives negotiating a prisoner exchange were eliminated?”

“But we can’t just sit and watch the Asen and Sanya get along in a ceasefire. The Hassan tribe needs more time to seize control, and the power of the Asen and Sanya must be diminished as much as possible.”

“That’s true.”

“Contact Director Leoni, or rather, the chief. Ask if there’s a way to blow up the venue. If worse comes to worst, we’ll have to bomb it just like last time.”

After lightly directing military support for the operation, Matt climbed into the car with a weary expression.

The driver deftly turned the wheel, merging into the throng of refugees.

With cars spewing black fumes from the fake fuel, slipping out of the rendezvous point was almost effortless, even with eyes closed.

Matt took out the self-defense pistol tucked in his pants, removing the magazine. He was about to take out the bullets when he spoke up.

“By the way, what’s Colonel Frederick up to? We need to discuss the Hassan tribe’s business.”

“He’s been away on an external trip since yesterday around lunchtime.”

“Contact the team there…. No, just send Kair.”

“You mean Kair?”

The subordinate occupying the passenger seat briefly pondered before catching on.

“Speaking of which, didn’t Kair have a friend in the Military Intelligence Agency?”

“Right, that nymph.”

“She was really cute. I thought she’d look like an elf with those pointy ears, but she was a pure fairy instead.”

One of the drivers chuckled lightly, glancing at his colleague.

“You saw her too?”

“Of course, I did.”

“Totally tiny, more than impressive. A hundred times better than some bearded dwarf.”

“It’s no wonder that the female employees liked her so much. Among the religious folks, she’s practically a mascot.”

As usual, chatter among intelligence officers progressed from discussing the nymph to lamenting about the company.

Why doesn’t our company have any fairies? Just a sea of men makes it dull, doesn’t it? This must mean our welfare is lacking as well.

If other employees from the Abas Information Agency had overheard this, they would have cried
out that those who take the most budget were getting bloated, and what a lively conversation it was. Naturally, Royal Intelligence Department employees couldn’t care less about the gripes of others.

Even for Matt, who had been working in the Royal Intelligence Department for over 15 years, he felt the same.

Scratching his rough chin, he threw another question at his staff.

“Why are you kids slacking off and fooling around? This is why I told you to check where Frederick is!”

-By the way, this Frederick—

“Hey, you crazy fools! Why are you smashing the pillars! Huh?!”

He was in the process of fleeing from a collapsing ceiling.

Episode 17 – The Blood-Drinking Tree

Boom!

An ominous noise echoed, causing a cloud of dust to invade my nostrils.

It’s ironic that I’m the one saying this as a smoker, but this situation felt perfect for dying of tuberculosis.

“Cough! Gah! Ugh, it went into my mouth again!”

While trying to clear the dust that was sufficient to blur my vision, I spat the rubble out of my mouth.

Wow, why is the phlegm gray?

It was a scene that sent chills down my spine. Is this how I get cancer? Just then, someone shrieked in front of me.

“Is lung cancer really the priority right now!?”

It was Veronica speaking to me.

Dipping her hair in a murky gray, she looked at me with a sense of disappointment. I felt unfairly enraged for a moment, but before I could say anything, she cut in first.

Pointing her finger upwards, Veronica’s expression turned terrified as she raised her voice.

“We’re about to be crushed by the ceiling!”

The stone ceiling was cracking ominously. Thick and small fissures sprawled like spider webs, seemingly expanding in real-time.

At that moment, a thunderous boom erupted. With a noise like lightning striking, hefty chunks of stone fell through the dust like hail.

While both the sky pouring hail and the ceiling dropping stone fragments share some similarities, the greatest commonality was one.

If you get hit wrong, you might die screaming.

“Aaah!”

“Uwah!”

“Gahhh!”

As a stone the size of a fist crashed down with a loud noise, screams erupted simultaneously.

Nobody needed to say a word. Of course, Veronica and even Akande screamed like a scared little girl hearing a ghost story.

We fled from the collapsing ceiling, all gripped by the terror of being buried alive, frantically sprinting.

Screaming like it was the end, I dashed forward.

“Don’t look back, just run!”

I mean, if I were a Marine, I’d be terrified right now.

This could only be expressed as a reverse charge.

Stumbling in darkness, rolling on the ground, and covered in dust, I tossed my baggage aside and ran. It was literally the perfect reverse charge—just like those marines with red armbands who excel in that kind of work.

“Never thought I’d be doing what marines do! Just yesterday, I fought and bickered with those intelligence officers.”

Since most intelligence officers in the Republic were army veterans, it would be fair to say that most were picked from the army.

However, the intelligence units cooperating with military intelligence agencies consist entirely of personnel from those respective branches, just like the naval intelligence officers in the Maritime Information Unit.

From what many intelligence officers have learned and I have experienced myself, intelligence officers from the Marines tend to have particularly annoying tendencies. Even though they were all part of the same military, they were notoriously difficult to deal with.

Yet, here I was, doing something they would normally do. What a twist of fate.

Amused and annoyed by the situation, I babbled to myself. It was then that Veronica, who was clinging to Ramiel’s back, raised her voice again.

“What nonsense is that!? Marines?!”

“Lower your voice, Veronica.”

“Stop talking nonsense!”

“You two, shut it! Quiet down!”

Unable to hold it in, Akande yelled for us to shut up, but it was pointless. He was the one screaming the loudest.

Shut up, you brat. Akande and I exchanged curses while sprinting.

“Damn…. Why on earth am I going through this…!”

Veronica muttered in a half-dazed manner. The knight in plate armor, carrying her, cautiously turned back.

“These things happen in life.”

“…And who’s fault is it?”

Veronica shot a glare at Ramiel, her eyes narrowed in a triangle. The mix of blame and unasked questions was an extra touch.

It was only natural—Ramiel was the culprit who had made things this way.

Had he not smashed the pillars, I wouldn’t be covered in dust like this.

If one lacks common sense, one should at least have some decency. Remarkably, Ramiel had none of either. At this point, it’s fair to call him an old fool rather than an angel imploring for help.

As those thoughts cautiously surfaced, Ramiel, as expected, opened his mouth again and dug himself deeper into trouble.

“Isn’t life supposed to be like this?”

“Shut up!”

Bam! A clear sound of impact echoed through the crumbling chamber.

The sound was that of the saint’s fist striking the angel’s helmet.

“Everyone, we might lose our legs! We need to get out quickly!”

In the collapse zone, a deadly race was afoot. We fled without looking back, dodging the falling rubble of the collapsing chamber.

The archaeological value of the ruins from centuries ago was immeasurable, but the fact that they were burying us in sand meant nothing.

What mattered was whether we could survive this or not.

That was all that mattered.

I dashed toward the only exit connecting the chamber to the outside. It was the sole salvation that could end this deadly circus. Had I not followed Ramiel here, I would not have endured such suffering. Why did I foolishly follow the angel?

From now on, I must never get entangled with angels again. No, I should avoid religion altogether.

“How long do we have?!”

“I don’t know! Run instead of asking questions!”

When the collapse first began, Ramiel started to flee with Nathaniel tucked under his arm. Veronica, laden with heavy baggage, climbed onto his back too.

This allowed Ramiel and Akande to dash off while Veronica had a clearer viewpoint and sharper perception.

The saint riding on the angel’s back pointed at something.

“There!”

Veronica cried out.

“There’s a light!”

Indeed, amid the pitch darkness, a shaft of light pierced through. It led to the outside of the chamber.

Though the light couldn’t be called bright, it was enough to cast a hazy outline. That dim sight was unmistakably a bridge.

With dust and rubble pouring through the cracks, twisted pillars collapsing, and the ceiling cracking under pressure, we desperately hurdled toward the opening that let the light through.

“Gah…!”

Finally, as my two legs managed to escape the chamber, the thunderous noise of the roof crushing down filled the air with dust.

Relieved, I found myself choking back coughs.

“Cough, cough… I thought I was going to die.”

“… Ewww.”

Akande, who fell like a lump, screamed as if his legs had given way beneath him, trying to rise and failing repeatedly.

Even amid all this, he seemed grateful to have survived. Tucking himself into a pile of dust, Akande repeatedly pressed his lips to the ground, offering thanks.

“Gracious Mother, I thank you for your mercy.”

Guess he has a strong stomach. Pressing his lips to the dusty ground like that.

I fell beside him, staring at the sky above. True, it was underground, so I couldn’t see any real sky, but from where I had nearly died, even this was a thank you moment.

Veronica, who finally freed herself from the knight’s back, gulped down water. She washed out her gritty throat meticulously and splashed water on her head.

“Phew.”

Her hair, turned a murky gray, quickly returned to its original color. Wiping her damp hair back, Veronica let out a sigh of relief.

“What is even going on…?”

The fact that she too had nearly died wasn’t the main concern right now; business needed attending.

Feeling disgruntled, her body coated in dust, Veronica finally began to frown.

“Why did you have to smash the pillar there?”

The saint, her eyes narrowed, harshly pointed at the culprit, Ramiel.

Be it an angel or not, when a frenzied horse rears up, nothing else matters. The furious gaze of the saint fixed on Ramiel ignited the tension.

“Who told you to break the pillar? Were you trying to kill us all?”

“It may sound like an excuse, but that wasn’t my intention.”

Ramiel protested in a dejected tone, but it was no use.

Who is Veronica? Her charming tongue could match even a devil’s, and her character could scare necromancers.

Attempting to educate a girl like her where even the kind-hearted bishop and cardinal from the Holy See faltered, or where the Pope’s attempts at change faced years of syndication is a stark reality.

Basically, Veronica is a unique being so highly awarded among many priests that even the Pope has surrendered to her vindictive nature.

Right now, she was pressing that angel mercilessly.

“I didn’t intend for it to collapse? That’s ironic after nearly burying us alive. If I shot you with that arrow and it pierced you, would you be able to say, ‘Oh, it’s nothing unusual’?”

“What a stupid line to say.”

Veronica was on a roll with the words. Pointing out the absurdity with such fervent clarity, she skewered him.

“Also another thing, we were the ones who baited and faced the angel. What were you so proud of being all high and mighty! If you could just smash instead of play fighting from the start, saying you would get help is ridiculous.”

Oh, wow…. Is that criticism or accusation?

Veronica’s tongue boasted incredible prowess. Almost like a national power level here, her mouth was an aggressive weapon.

Kicking things off with a personal attack from the get-go, she skillfully threw back the opponent’s words and actions as well. This could be considered a form of art.

Now it makes sense why the Holy See has given up trying to educate her.

She’s not the sort that can be calmed with soft words.

Honed for nearly 20 years in the political arena, her skillful speeches far exceeded the level the old man in the coffin could withstand.

Ramiel, barely recovering from the verbal onslaught, struggled to find counterarguments, looking utterly pitiful.

“How can one say that what’s inside their head is pasta gone bad?”

I blankly stared at Veronica as she relentlessly pursued Ramiel. I’m truly glad that the like of Francesca did not inherit that habit.

In the future, I must ensure Camille and Veronica never meet.

After venting her heart all she wanted, Veronica was satisfied and pulled back.

“Phew. You really know how to annoy someone.”

“……”

“Why are you looking at me that way, Colonel?”

“…How about you keep that mouth of yours shut for once?”

“What?”

Veronica looked at me as if asking what nonsense I was spouting. Meanwhile, Ramiel sat dumbfounded, squatting on the ground.

I didn’t particularly feel cheerful, considering I was nearly dead because of that angel, but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. With Veronica berating him as she was, what more could I add?

While wanting to lie down and rest instead of arguing.

With the angel crumpled in the corner and the saint sulking, I sighed again and lay back on the ground.

“Anyway, I’m just glad we’re alive…. Nothing else should go wrong now, right?”

At the dawn of creation, when heaven and earth were born.

Before history began, the world was filled with emptiness.

Nothing existed, so it was void and unnameable—a space of nothingness. In the far future, humans defined that place as chaos.

Why has it been called chaos? When we delve into that history, we find light.

In the time of creation, when heaven and earth emerged and life blossomed, light beamed down upon countless beings, yet it was forbidden to those that occupied the emptiness.

Being denied, they couldn’t belong to the world, ultimately being pushed into shadow where light wouldn’t touch.

Initially, it must have been a longing. To grasp the light they couldn’t have, to soothe their thirst.

But no matter how much they yearned, the light remained out of reach. Hence, they devised a plan.

If they couldn’t set foot on the heavens or the earth, they would have to cling to the living beings that existed there.

Thus, the thirsty beings made a deal with the ones from the ground. One day, the clergy would refer to this act as the beginning of all trading.

They formed contracts with the living, managing to come into the world. Souls, lifespans, health, fortune—the offerings were diverse, and the fruits were delightful.

Yet, still, the light never graced them. Vanishing like the fleeting shadow, it was only given to beings devoid of intelligence, sparking envy and jealousy among the outcasts.

Great power, envy, and jealousy.

In their quest for pleasure, they fed on the weak. Light branded these entities as evil. This may have been clear even before the dawn of creation. Unless divinely indicated, human cognition dared not fathom such matters.

Everything remained vague, but one truth shone bright.

Assistance extended towards humanity is never founded on genuine goodwill.

And now, after seemingly endless eons, the tightly bound hatred began to stir once more.

The start was a sound.

“What is that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Can’t you hear that noise?”

Veronica, filling the oil in the lamp, lifted her head to respond.

“Noise? Hmmm…. There’s nothing. It’s just quiet.”

“That’s not true. I’ve distinctly heard something.”

A low rumble echoed from somewhere.

It was a sound akin to thousands of crowded voices, yet the origin eluded identification.

Veronica focused her mind, and like before, she returned the same answer. Nothing could be heard, tempered by worry that I might have been mistaken.

“Did you bump your head earlier? The brick must have hit it.”

“That isn’t it.”

“Well then, what could it be?”

As Veronica became agitated, tossing her hair around, she shouted.

“Someone keep messing around since earlier!”

Messed around? The sudden outburst directed all attention to Veronica, from Akande to Ramiel and Nathaniel.

She pointed accusingly at them, as if conducting a people’s tribunal without warning.

“Who is it? Is it you, Akande? Or one of you guys?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“This woman. Her head seems to have gone off the rails. Call the hospital.”

“Who’s the freak? It’s you acting all weird here.”

As they exchanged banter, Veronica began scratching her head irritably.

“No, since earlier, someone kept tickling my eyes with light. Who’d play jokes like that in a situation like this?”

“……”

I stared blankly at Veronica. When our gazes met, she tilted her head.

“What? Is there something on my face?”

“…Veronica, what are you talking about?”

Light. But we’re underground right now.

Sure, we had lanterns, but apart from those, there couldn’t be any other sources of light down here. The outside world was outside, and this place was beneath the ground.

All that lay above us were sand and cowards, so where on earth would light be coming from? I stood motionless in a dumbfounded manner, questioning Veronica.

Then she insisted.

“No, I’m saying it’s real! My eyes are getting tinged with light, whose else would it be?”

She began to sound defensive as if I were doubting her word.

It was an eerie remark, invoking an odd atmosphere.

It felt strange, unsettling.

“……”

A bizarre silence enveloped us when Akande, who had been quiet, suddenly spoke up.

“Light. I’ve seen it too. We’ve all seen it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just earlier. When we came here. In the dark. There was light! We saw it! For sure.”

“……”

Hold on. After hearing Akande’s words, a puzzling realization pulled at me.

We had indeed seen light while escaping the collapsing chamber. More precisely, Veronica saw it first, followed by the rest of us.

Herein lies the problem.

This is a place where neither moonlight nor starlight penetrates the earth; where, exactly, did the light come from?

Realization struck me as an unnerving chill crawled up my spine. A sense of foreboding invaded my senses.

“Hold on, just a moment. I distinctly recall the light…”

Just then, from somewhere farther away, Nathaniel, who was bound by chains, blurted.

“…Ramiel.”

“What’s wrong, Nathaniel?”

“Unshackle this chain. Right now.”

The angel demanded Ramiel to release him from the chains. Ramiel glanced silently at Nathaniel for a moment before reaching for the ground.

Moments later.

“Damn it.”

Abruptly rising, Ramiel unsheathed his sword, and with a swing, he cut Nathaniel free from his shackles.

Veronica and Akande gasped as Ramiel unleashed Nathaniel, who had been moments before, a near-fatal adversary. I shared their disbelief.

What on earth was he doing?

Even as I was just moments away from death at that angel’s hands, a sense of danger was high.

Just as I was about to shout and demand answers, Nathaniel sprang up, clenching a greatsword with both hands, charging full speed toward the edge.

With Nathaniel racing off, Ramiel urgently called to us.

“Everyone, be ready to fight!”

“What’s going on!?”

“Demons!”

The angel tightened his grip on the greatsword.

“Devil’s minions have been unleashed!”

And with his declaration came an ear-piercing, chilling cry that filled the vast room.

From the depths below, the music of the void resounded.