Ch.449Episode 17 – The Blood-Drinking Tree

The silence was deathly all around.

The third-floor corridor was so quiet it felt desolate. The sharp scent of gunpowder lingered in the dark space, and when that pungent echo faded, the metallic smell of blood suddenly appeared.

I surveyed my surroundings through narrowed eyes.

The corridor was drearily monotonous in its grayness. As PT watched the far end, Templar Knights burst into the room.

A knight with his weapon pressed close to his body took purposeful strides. One turned right to neutralize threats at the corner, while another secured the left side before turning to sweep the entire compartment.

The two gun barrels crossed in the air briefly. After thoroughly searching furniture gaps and closets, the knights emerged into the corridor and patted PT’s shoulder.

Cautious footsteps continued.

The Templar Knights methodically secured the rooms on the third floor.

They resembled hunters driving rabbits, or a noose slowly tightening.

-’29 minutes elapsed. Minimum 21 minutes remaining. Maximum 31 minutes.’

Episode 17 – The Tree That Drinks Blood

Matt’s low voice came through the radio. Time was running out quickly, but the Templar Knights moved with extreme caution.

They opened doors and entered rooms.

One knight waiting on either side would signal before entering, then the knight on the opposite side would cross paths with his comrade and follow him in.

After securing corners, they searched potential hiding places. A knight with a pistol lifted blankets to check under beds, while another covered with a rifle as his comrade flung open closets.

“All clear.”

“Moving out.”

While watching the firmly closed doors, I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder. It was a signal from a knight who had emerged into the corridor.

Short steps muffled sound, and a suffocating silence hung in the dreary gray space.

As I carefully extended my boot, the knight who had relieved me moved forward. The knight ahead provided cover while watching the corridor, and the one who followed turned the doorknob.

Then the door swung open.

The rifle stock rose to my shoulder like water flowing over rock. I crossed the threshold and secured my corner, while the Templar Knights who followed covered the remaining corners.

I swept the interior with my gun barrel.

As bright laser beams painted the green world of night vision, a discordant scene suddenly entered my field of view.

A person.

*

My finger, which had been gently pulling the trigger’s curve, stopped abruptly.

The thick hair, bushy beard, and loose clothing immediately suggested the man was a native of the Mauritanian continent.

Since this was a building where cultists resided, I could naturally infer that this man was connected to “Al Kair.”

But something seemed suspicious.

“……”

Despite seeing me burst through the door, the man didn’t move at all. There was no excuse like not noticing us because it was dark. He was clearly staring in our direction.

The intruder at the corner showed no expression upon seeing us. Like someone in a trance.

His thick hair and unkempt beard made him look more like a madman than an ordinary citizen, and the way he knelt and silently stared seemed strangely exhausted.

His attitude was markedly different from other cultists who had violently resisted as soon as they saw the knights.

However,

His eyes, though shrouded in darkness, gleamed intensely.

A gaze both delicate and fierce. A look that seemed to suppress heightened emotions. The kneeling man fixed his gaze on us and took a deep breath.

As I turned my head, I met eyes with a Templar Knight who had entered the room. His cold, calm eyes began to look at me.

In response to his questioning look, I approached the man purposefully, aimed my gun threateningly, and said:

“Don’t move.”

“……”

The man was kneeling on the floor. I pushed aside furniture to assess his condition.

A prayer rug, tarnished brass bowl, thick religious scripture. He had apparently been praying.

Clear water that he likely used to wash his hands and feet was in the bowl, the neatly placed scripture was wide open, and then…

“…a weapon.”

A knife lay in front of the cultist.

I quickly aimed at him and stepped back. The knight tensed at the mention of a weapon and followed with his gun raised. Throughout all this, the cultist remained motionless.

A Templar Knight standing on furniture shouted in the regional dialect of the Mauritanian continent:

“Stay still!”

“……”

“Don’t touch the knife!”

The kneeling cultist closed his eyes. Muttering something in an unknown language, he reached out to grab the knife.

Witnessing this, the knight pulled his trigger, and I fired as well.

– Bang! Bang! Bang!

Three or four gunshots shook the room.

The cultist’s body jerked and collapsed sideways, and in that instant, a profound silence fell as if a storm had just passed through.

I kicked the knife away with my boot and checked the cultist’s condition. I took out my bayonet and prodded his eyes, but there was no response.

The dead cultist’s expression was utterly peaceful. His face, not even contorted in pain, gave me a strange sense of déjà vu.

After staring at his face for a while, I brought the radio to my lips.

“…Third floor, sixth bedroom, eliminated one male of conscription age who attempted resistance.”

After pressing the button to report the situation, Ibrahim’s response came shortly:

-‘Third floor, sixth compartment. One cultist eliminated. Confirmed.’

So far, we had killed a total of five cultists in Building A. Eight cultists were believed to be residing here.

I asked Ibrahim how many cultists had been killed in Building B. After communicating with the Building B entry team, he replied:

-‘Three cultists were eliminated in Building B. Currently, the third floor of Building A has been secured, and the search of Building B’s third floor is almost complete, so we believe there are no remaining cultists in the operation area.’

“Understood.”

After releasing the button, Ibrahim’s voice came through all radio channels:

-‘Gregory-6 to all Gregorys. We have secured all above-ground floors of Buildings A and B. Now secure the basement and begin SSE.’

*

All threats inside the building had been neutralized. The above-ground floors from the first to third had been secured, and only the basement remained.

While the team assigned to the basement prepared to go down, the remaining knights began the SSE (Sensitive Site Exploitation) throughout the building.

“Documents, photos, pension record cards. Gather everything, leave nothing behind.”

“We don’t have much time. Hurry.”

Ibrahim and the deputy commander’s orders overlapped chaotically. Coming down the stairs, I looked around at the Templar Knights.

A knight with his weapon slung behind him opened drawers and dumped out their contents. Clothing spilled onto the floor, followed by books thrown from shelves.

The Templar Knights thoroughly searched every corner of the rooms, sweeping up anything that might contain information. Someone overturned a dresser, someone else slashed mattresses and blankets with a bayonet, and another used tools to dismantle electronic devices.

“I don’t understand what this writing means. Can anyone interpret it?”

“No time for interpretation. Just put anything that looks like a document in here.”

A knight demolishing a closet tossed a mesh bag to his comrade. Catching it mid-air, the knight scraped all the papers from the table and stuffed them into the bag.

“Where do I put the pension cards?!”

“Just put them anywhere! We’ll sort them later, so use whatever you have—ration pouches or whatever—just gather as much as you can!”

“Got it!”

While some secured potentially valuable information, others identified the cultists.

A light illuminated a dead cultist’s face as photography began. First the front, then the profile. A knight with a light in his mouth grabbed the cultist’s chin and moved it to create different angles, while another adjusted the focus on his magical recording device.

A familiar scene. I’d often witnessed this when operating with American colleagues.

I descended the stairs with my rifle cradled, a cigarette between my lips.

Ibrahim approached me as whitish smoke escaped from my lips.

“SSE is about half complete. The search team has gone down to the basement. The basement isn’t large, so we’ll start preparing for extraction soon.”

We were entering the final phase.

After securing documents and holy blood, the Templar Knights would leave the scene. Of course, I had no reason to stay in Necropolis either, so I planned to leave the city with the operation team and the Templar Knights.

“I think we should use the sewers for extraction as planned, but we might need to use a different route depending on the situation on Ash Tree Street.”

I exhaled smoke and rubbed my eyes with my fingers.

“I’ll go check the situation outside. Is there anything else I can help with?”

“No. Our knights are sufficient.”

The church’s soldier lifted his night vision device and gave a slight bow. I handed him a magical detection device acquired from the Sanya warlord and left the building, crossing the courtyard.

The operation team deployed for security was positioned to the north.

Intelligence officers concealed in shadows watched Ash Tree Street, and Matt approached silently, offering a handshake with a grin.

“Damn clean operation.”

I shook his hand lightly. As Matt said, it was a damn clean operation.

“All cultists inside the building have been eliminated. The Templar Knights will come out as soon as they finish the SSE, so let’s prepare for extraction.”

“How long do you think it will take?”

“Well, less than 10 minutes?”

“Good. Let’s get home and rest.”

At Matt’s casual remark, I loosened my chin strap and smiled slightly.

Home, huh? I really wish we could go there.

Despite having worked in intelligence for well over 10 years, I still couldn’t get used to these irritating field operations.

Maybe I should transfer to a desk job.

While entertaining these idle thoughts, a radio message came from Caer, who was waiting on the building’s roof.

-‘Can I move to the rendezvous point now?’

“Wait a little longer, Caer. Just until the church folks finish their work and come out.”

-‘Understood.’

Matt removed his finger from the radio and turned away. I approached the intelligence officers and asked how much time remained.

An officer checked his watch and informed me of the remaining time.

“About 15 minutes left, I think.”

I requested a precise calculation just to be safe.

The Royal Intelligence officer opened his bag and took out a magical device. Crossing the road mixed with sand and gravel, the officer placed the device against the veil. It was a forensic magical device used by investigative agencies to measure residual magic and divine energy at crime scenes.

While waiting for the results and smoking heavily, I suddenly heard Matt’s voice.

“There’s no one walking around on the street. I think we can extract through the sewers. But why did the cultists steal the Saint’s blood anyway?”

“How would I know?”

“Hmm….”

Matt folded his arms and stroked his rough beard.

“Still, something seems suspicious…”

I threw my cigarette butt on the ground and exhaled smoke. Then I told Matt to notify me by radio when preparations were complete.

As I turned to head back to the courtyard, something happened.

“Huh?”

The intelligence officer calculating the divine energy remaining on the veil looked down at his device with a confused expression.

Matt looked at the officer as if asking if there was a problem, and I also stopped and turned my head.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ah, no. It’s nothing. Just a momentary error, it seems. I’ll check again.”

“…Error?”

At my blunt question, the officer who was about to press a button while holding the device against the veil turned his head.

What’s going on? Making people anxious for nothing.

In the darkness of Ash Tree Street.

As dim crystal lights overlooked the city.

The operation team member looking down at the device spoke with visible confusion:

“Well… the amount of residual divine energy suddenly decreased significantly.”

*

“…Huh.”

A Templar Knight descending the stairs suddenly muttered.

Hearing a comrade’s voice from behind, the knights at the front turned their heads.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s blood everywhere here.”

It was an unexpected response.

While the scout with night vision goggles watched the basement, the knight who had stopped midway frowned.

“What kind of nonsense is that all of a sudden? What about blood?”

The knight spoke as if telling him to get a grip. But the response was strange.

“……”

The knight at the rear remained motionless, his gaze fixed on the floor. Even when another knight asked what was wrong, he didn’t answer.

As his comrades looked at him with tense expressions, sensing something was amiss.

The knight who had been looking down carefully spoke:

“…Hey. Blood flowing from corpses usually goes downward, right?”

“Yeah. That’s why livor mortis forms. Blood pools at the bottom due to gravity.”

“…Did we kill any cultists on the first floor?”

A comrade answered the knight’s question.

“We got one near the entrance earlier. Why are you asking suddenly?”

“Is the place where that cultist died close to the basement?”

“No? The entrance is quite far from here…”

“Then why.”

The knight who had been staring at the floor continued.

“…has blood flowed all the way to the basement?”

“……”

“……”

At their comrade’s question, the knights’ gazes dropped to the floor.

The stairs leading to the basement were soaked with blood.

The fresh blood had stained their desert-colored boots a dull black.

Following the descent of the stairs, the blood was slowly, gradually flowing down into the basement.

“What the fuck is this…?”

When the knights lifted their boots, splashing sounds began to echo.

The startled knights hurriedly moved to avoid the blood. Pressing against the walls and railings, they examined the floor and sensed something was terribly wrong.

“Let’s retreat.”

One knight made the decision to withdraw.

“We’ll go back up to ground level and rejoin the main force. We’ll report the ominous signs and bring holy water and sacred objects. Let’s return to the first floor, quickly!”

As the retreat order was given, the Templar Knights hastily began climbing the stairs. A knight following his comrades suddenly felt something strange and looked back.

At the bottom of the stairs. The entrance to the basement.

The scout who had first set foot in the basement remained there.

A knight climbing the stairs called to his comrade urgently.

“What are you doing there? Didn’t you hear the order to retreat?”

“……”

“Ah, what’s wrong with him now…”

Muttering a curse, the knight went down to the basement and grabbed the scout.

“Let’s go up. Don’t stay here.”

“……”

“…Hey, I said let’s go up?”

No answer came.

The scout stood motionless as if nailed to the spot, looking somewhat entranced.

As if the stress wasn’t bad enough already, now even his comrade was causing problems. The knight pulling the scout irritably raised his rifle and looked around the basement.

“What are you even looking at…”

His voice cut off abruptly.

The knight who had put on night vision goggles to see what the scout was looking at froze in place.

The hair on his entire body stood on end, and he felt as if the surrounding air was growing chillingly cold.

“……”

As if pressed down by an irresistible force, his gun barrel dropped.

The knight who lowered his weapon froze completely. He couldn’t turn his body or open his mouth.

At that moment, the lips of the scout who had been staring in the same direction as his comrade trembled slightly.

“…Dear God.”

Necropolis, the underground city for the banished.

A house on Ash Tree Street where cultists had nested.

In its basement, the Templar Knights saw:

Blood seeping into the basement as if drawn by a magnet.

A massive box placed in the basement.

It was a very ancient,

coffin.