Ch.470Episode 17 – The Blood-Drinking Tree

Veronica used the central control room’s broadcasting equipment to gather personnel.

The first to respond were Ibrahim and the Templar Knights. They had been searching the facility for the Saint and surviving personnel, and rushed to the scene. Veronica instructed them to restore the communications network.

With full authority delegated by Pope Raphael, Veronica brought in ground personnel to manage the situation. The clergy, who had been anxiously worried that vampires might have harmed key figures, breathed sighs of relief upon seeing us alive and well. Their visibly brightened expressions were a bonus.

Under her command, the Order cooperated with Al-Yabd to restore the facility. Camilla and Francesca took rest to return to their normal routines.

The Order contacted the local government to prepare hospital beds for the injured, Al-Yabd brought in personnel from the Punishment Committee to thoroughly inspect the facility’s safety, and Lucia, who visited urgently, healed the injured, allowing scholars and researchers to quickly recover and leave their sickbeds.

The situation was thus concluded for now.

However, an indescribable uneasiness still remains in a corner of my heart. What we did was merely manage the situation, not eradicate the root of the problem.

What is the root of the problem, and who holds the clue to solving this incident? I think through it step by step.

The cult group that stole the sacred blood. The cedar coffin found there.

Akande, who visited Necropolis to recover it.

A letter from the High Priest.

One single entity standing at the center of this incident, at the point indicated by the flow of events.

A knight in plate armor surrounded by a red halo.

Self-introduced as an angel.

Everything is in his hands.

Whether it’s the key to solving the mystery, or the sword to cut through the knot.

Episode 17 – The Tree That Drinks Blood

In the northern part of the Mauritanian continent, there is a special desert.

The northern desert region, with its hot sunshine and soft sand, may seem like an ordinary desert at first glance, but it holds a unique mystery not found in any other desert.

The sandstorm.

A massive wind that sweeps across the land, lasting for more than a month. It’s both an anomalous phenomenon and a mystery that symbolizes the northern desert region of Mauritania.

The principle behind how this wind can persist for a month remains an unsolved problem in academia, but Al-Yabd’s theologians explain that it is due to “God’s wrath.”

According to scripture, the Earth Mother, who shed tears at the sight of souls suffering in chaos, sacrificed herself to save souls wandering in the void.

As the Earth Mother embraced the souls and dug into her own flesh with her hands to create paths, her tears flowed along those paths, forming rivers and seas.

However, when their pain, now free from chaos, darkened their hearts, and the sins born from those darkened hearts filled the world, the Earth Mother lamented and revealed a person full of wisdom and purpose who bestowed mercy—he was the first prophet and last messenger of Al-Yabd.

The prophet, receiving the Earth Mother’s revelation, embarked on a journey to save suffering souls. At this time, he encountered a tribe of unbelievers who did not follow Al-Yabd.

After fighting those who tried to kill him for thirty and a half days, the prophet, in a moment of crisis, kissed the Earth Mother’s feet and asked for help. Hearing the prophet’s plea, the Earth Mother personally raised a hot wind and destroyed the tribe of unbelievers.

Based on scriptural and historical records, Al-Yabd’s theologians and archaeologists claim that the tribe of unbelievers once lived somewhere in the current northern desert region, and that the month-long sandstorm is “a trace of punishment from an angry deity.”

Of course, academia has not officially recognized the claims of theologians and archaeologists. The religious and scientific communities get along about as well as China and Taiwan.

But even scholars who follow the faith called science often compared the sandstorm to “God’s wrath.” This was because the sandstorm was the reason the northern desert region became an uninhabitable wasteland where humans simply could not survive.

Al-Yabd’s research facility is located in precisely that northern desert region.

“Major Frederick Nostrum. Identity confirmed. You may enter.”

A local spoke in fluent Abbasian. He was armed with a firearm.

Though armed, he wasn’t a soldier. The group the local belonged to wasn’t military but religious. On the arm that handed over documents and ID was a patch engraved with Al-Yabd’s symbol.

A group that protects the values of law and religion. The Al-Yabd Punishment Committee.

These people were religious police under the Punishment Committee.

While they’re called religious “police,” the Punishment Committee’s armed group is essentially classified as a paramilitary organization. Under international law, they’re a law enforcement agency, but intelligence agencies just count them as a military organization, and they seem to know this themselves, as they wear their own custom military uniforms.

It’s similar to how the Order’s Inquisition is classified as a counterintelligence agency rather than police, and how the Templar Knights and Holy Knights are treated as special forces. In global terms, they’re something like the IRGC (Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps).

To put it bluntly, they’re a private army controlled by religion.

“Take this pass. Go inside, turn left, and you’ll find a checkpoint. Show it to the soldiers guarding there.”

The religious police of the Punishment Committee handed me a pass and told me where to go.

While parking the car and unloading luggage, Jake, who was at the wheel, spoke up.

“Sir, Naval Intelligence has contacted us. They say a sandstorm is approaching soon. Please be careful.”

“Where is it now?”

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

The “God’s wrath” that Al-Yabd’s people speak of will soon arrive here. I muttered:

“That’ll set quite the mood.”

“The military and police will restrict movement until the storm passes through the region. They’ll reopen the roads when the wind subsides, but visibility will be severely reduced by sand winds for weeks, so no one will easily pass through here.”

He was saying it would be difficult to come pick me up due to the bad weather. Driving requires visibility, after all.

Normally, I’d use teleportation magic to come and go, but the sandstorms in the northern desert region have a somewhat special quality.

Just having the storm pass nearby dramatically increases the difficulty of mana operation, rendering both magical tools and communication equipment completely useless.

A sandstorm that even interferes with magic use. That’s why people call it God’s wrath. It’s also why academia classifies a mere natural phenomenon as a mystery.

Its power is brutal, and it lasts for over a month, making it perfect for killing people.

“Teleportation magic will be unavailable for the time being. Will that be okay?”

“The government has already arranged special vehicles for that. So we can break through the storm to reach a safe zone.”

Technology has developed so much now that the probability of someone caught in a mystery dying is low.

But thousands of years ago, the empire of the desert built an inescapable natural prison here, and until a hundred years ago, many countries on the Mauritanian continent maintained a capital punishment system that banished heinous criminals to the northern desert region.

In that sense, the expression “God’s wrath” is truly apt. To the people of old, the sandstorm must have looked like divine anger.

Of course, it’s still treated as a mystery even now.

“But what exactly are they researching in a place like this?”

Jake, who was preparing to leave, blurted out a question. I answered indifferently:

“I told you it’s a place for undead research. Weren’t you listening to Pippin’s explanation during the briefing?”

“Ah, I heard everything he said. But…”

The guy looked around the desolate desert and muttered:

“Just how dangerous must the things they brought here be, to station so many guards in such a remote place?”

I pushed the car door shut with force.

“There are such things.”

*

The knight in plate armor was currently staying at the facility.

In the conference room where the initial interrogation took place, Veronica had demanded that the knight remain here. To be precise, she meant he shouldn’t wander around and should stay put.

The knight accepted this demand. He didn’t offer any particular objection.

Anyone could see it was a statement about detaining a prisoner, but the knight seemed to think differently. He apparently took it to mean she was allowing him to stay here.

“It’s quite ironic. From his perspective, he went to sleep and woke up essentially kidnapped, yet he’s staying here.”

I tilted my head and blurted out:

“Isn’t this a kidnapper’s den? And you’re the leader of the kidnappers.”

“Major?”

“Yes.”

Veronica replied coolly:

“Don’t talk nonsense.”

Her slender fingers spread wide, creating a distinct curve. Veronica raised her middle finger at me for daring to treat her as the head of a criminal organization.

“Oh my God.”

“What kind of ridiculous thing are you saying… Did I kidnap him? You’re the one who brought him here.”

“Technically, your Templar Knights brought him. I said from the beginning that it would be better to leave him behind.”

Come to think of it, the person who argued against taking the coffin was Matt, who commanded the Royal Intelligence Service operation team. But aren’t the Military Intelligence Agency and Royal Intelligence Service both Abbasian government agencies?

Therefore, Matt and I could hardly be considered unrelated. By the same logic, Ibrahim of the Templar Knights, who takes orders from the Vatican, and Veronica, who belongs to the Vatican, weren’t unrelated either.

For reference, as soon as the cedar coffin was discovered, Ibrahim and the Templar Knights were the ones who insisted it should be taken.

In other words,

“It wasn’t us who caused the accident, but the Order.”

Based on perfect logic, I argued that the Order was the subject of the accident. And since Veronica was a Saint and a proxy with authority delegated by Pope Raphael, I added that all responsibility lay with her.

To this, she showed me her right middle finger, then unfurled her left middle finger as well.

“Eat this.”

“No, I’m being serious. This is a disaster you people brought upon yourselves.”

“Do you want to face a religious tribunal?”

I can’t even argue with that.

Veronica, who had become sulky in anger, folded her fingers and lay down. Her weapons were placed within arm’s reach, but she rested her upper body on the desk, propped her chin, and turned her gaze inward.

There was a huge cube there.

A transparent box made of glass and steel. A cube reminiscent of a display case. The plate armor inside it.

The knight was confined in a huge cube-like display case. That was the prison prepared to prevent the knight’s escape.

The Saint of the Order, with her chin propped up, looked at the prison with indifferent eyes.

“They’re really making a fuss. Do they think confining him like that will prevent his escape?”

She criticized the prison in an indifferent tone. It wasn’t a sharp and clear critique, but more like mockery.

Shortly after the knight accepted the request and decided to stay here, the representatives of the Order and Al-Yabd, who received the situation from Veronica, strongly argued for the need for restraint.

There was a request from the High Priest to treat the knight in the cedar coffin with respect, but…

That wasn’t reason enough to let the knight freely roam around the facility.

No matter how prestigious the clergyman’s request was, it was clearly burdensome to have an entity that had turned the entire facility into a wasteland walking around freely.

Especially considering he was a monster of incredible strength that even the Templar Knights and the Punishment Committee’s guards couldn’t stop.

Therefore, Al-Yabd brought in a special prison to prevent the knight from running wild.

Of course,

“Surely no one actually thinks that thing will work?”

“Hmm… I wonder.”

I haven’t looked into the minds of the officials, but they didn’t seem to particularly trust the safety of the prison either.

Especially considering they had placed all sorts of seals and barriers around the prison in double and triple layers.

“Well, the seals and barriers are useless, but it seems they can physically restrain him.”

“So they put him in that glass box?”

“I guess they judged that even temporarily holding him back would be enough. Just until evacuation.”

It was obvious they intended to quickly evacuate personnel without fighting if another incident occurred, but anyway.

Contrary to everyone’s concerns, the knight entered the prison willingly. And he’s doing very well. Maintaining such a gentle attitude that it’s hard to find any trace of the thug-like behavior that ground up the research wing.

According to the researchers in charge of management and supervision, he spends all day sitting. They say he doesn’t eat or drink anything, just sits there blankly.

Veronica, who had been watching the knight, grumbled with a tired look:

“I really don’t know what kind of person he is. When does he even sleep?”

“Do non-human things sleep too?”

“If you’re talking about undead, it would be more accurate to say they rest rather than sleep. Except for types like werewolves that need sleep.”

“What about non-undead beings?”

Veronica shrugged her shoulders. As if to say even she didn’t know that far.

I briefly exchanged words with her about the state of the knight.

Interestingly, after the knight entered the prison, Veronica volunteered to be his monitor. She intended to monitor him to prevent his escape and stop him personally if he attempted to escape.

Considering her lazy personality that hated work more than anyone, it was a miraculously surprising thing.

The Saint, who had been monitoring the knight with her eyes for days, looked very tired. After tapping her shoulders a few times, she quietly folded her arms and turned her gaze this way.

“Ah, right. Congratulations, Major.”

“For what?”

“Finding a new comrade.”

I responded with a disgusted expression:

“Ah- he’s not my comrade, I tell you.”

The “new comrade” she was referring to was Akande, whom we met in Necropolis.

Akande’s identity was one of the companions of the Oracle that the Inquisition and various companies had been searching for.

“He is your comrade, though? A large male, full-body tattoos, special powers. He perfectly matches the characteristics reported by the Inquisition. He himself said he received the Oracle.”

“I’m telling you he’s not.”

I tilted my head back in displeasure, using foul language.

Upon learning that Akande was connected to the cedar coffin recovered from Necropolis, the Order thoroughly investigated his identity. Since Akande himself had revealed he was a believer of the Earth Mother, they launched a joint investigation with Al-Yabd.

And it turned out that bastard was the fourth companion designated by the Oracle.

I tried to deny the fact that the barbaric, half-naked criminal (breaking and entering, aggravated assault, etc.) who walked around with his upper body exposed was actually my comrade, but…

“Our old folks say it’s true too? They said they’ll announce it as soon as the investigation is complete.”

Since the Order and Al-Yabd side have made it official, there’s no way to deny it now.

Since the religions that interpreted the Oracle have officially recognized it, it must be true, but… honestly, personally, it was difficult to accept him as a comrade. How could a zebra-like human who runs around the savanna beating up animals be my comrade?

But thinking about it carefully, I kept feeling like I’d seen this guy somewhere before.

Hmm, what was it. I think I saw a character like this in a game—a bald guy with tattoos all over who tears off Olympian gods’ heads and uses them as torches.

While tracing my vague memories, a word suddenly flashed through my mind.

Barbarian Warrior.

The tattooed pig-stew-like guy I encountered in Necropolis was the fourth companion of Camilla designated by the Oracle, the Barbarian Warrior.

The moment I realized this, my head hurt so much. I even wished this was just a dream. I mean, I know he’s a “barbarian” warrior, but isn’t he excessively barbaric…?

“How did your siblings react?”

Veronica, with her head propped up in her hand, started smiling as if to say “tell me more.”

“Lucia vaguely thinks he must be a good person since he’s a companion designated by the Oracle. Francesca seems excited because he has rare abilities…”

“What did the Hero say?”

Camilla?

“She was thrilled. Said we now have a fallen angel who tore off his wings and a barbarian.”

She apparently enjoyed Diablo.

Starting with the second installment on a borrowed relative’s account, she even pre-ordered the fourth one.

I don’t see any resemblance between Akande and the (former) angel who removed his wings and became black, or the (self-proclaimed) angel who jumped out of the coffin, except for their barbaric nature. Anyway, Camilla seemed quite excited about the arrival of a new companion and an angel.

Of course, I wasn’t.

Rubbing my throbbing head, I waved my hand dismissively:

“Let’s stop talking about him. The more I think about it, the more it gives me a headache.”

“Why? Shouldn’t you be happy to have found a new companion?”

“…You’ll see when you meet him.”

Anyway, Akande is scheduled to come here after completing the joint investigation. We received word that the investigation was completed the day before yesterday, so he’s probably on his way to the facility now. He should arrive before the sandstorm hits, at the latest.

“Let’s put the small talk aside and continue with the investigation.”

*

When the Order and Al-Yabd decided to imprison the knight.

As if foreseeing the future, the knight made one request in exchange for entering the prison voluntarily.

He requested that he would only speak through two specific people, whether for conversation or anything else.

It was suspicious to accept without question, but there was no alternative. Since the High Priest had requested that the knight be treated with respect, the Order couldn’t simply reject the request, and the High Priest’s reputation was well-known even among Al-Yabd’s clergy.

In the end, after seeking the consent of the parties involved, the Order and Al-Yabd decided to accept the knight’s request.

For reference, those two parties were Veronica and me.

“Well, let’s start another joyful day. Who wants to go in first?”

“You go first, Major.”

While it made sense for Veronica, I was a bit puzzled at first as to why I was included, but thinking about it, I could understand the knight’s position.

Currently, the only people who could actually communicate with the knight were essentially just Veronica and me.

The Order and Al-Yabd strongly suspected the knight was an undead, and neither Camilla nor Francesca were particularly friendly toward him.

He introduced himself as an angel, but Francesca remained skeptical, and while Camilla was curious about the angel claim, she was strangely wary of him based on the superhuman strength he had displayed.

Above all, the two weren’t free enough to devote time to the investigation. The same applies to me, but…

Anyway, for these reasons, investigating the knight fell to Veronica and me.

The investigation takes place at times when we can both meet.

We agreed to conduct the investigation when I could make time. For reference, today is the first formal investigation.

The reason is simple. Veronica insisted she wouldn’t conduct the investigation without me.

It was clearly inefficient and puzzling that she, who seemed capable of handling the knight alone, would insist on bringing me along for the investigation.

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

“Because I can only properly handle it with you there, Major.”

“No, what power do I have? By that logic, couldn’t you just do it alone, Veronica? You even defeated a demon by yourself before.”

Veronica smiled as if daring me to guess:

“Shh, that’s a secret.”

Secret my ass.

“What’s wrong, Major? Don’t you like working intimately together?”

“Intimate partnership my ass. It’s obvious you’re going to dump work on me…”

The Saint blinked her eyes a few times after hearing my answer, then let out a dejected laugh.

“You caught me.”

We had a light squabble before entering the prison.

The knight responded as soon as we set foot in the space. Breaking the silence without moving a muscle, he raised his helmet slightly while maintaining his posture.

“Have you come?”

I waved my hand in greeting. Perhaps not one to stand on ceremony, the knight naturally nodded in response.

After pulling up a chair and taking out writing materials, I casually threw out a question. It was more of a greeting than a real question.

“What were you doing?”

The knight answered:

“Meditation.”

Meditation, huh. Well, anyone can meditate, not just knights. Religious people do it without saying, and sometimes people even pay for meditation programs.

But hearing a self-proclaimed angel say he meditates gives it a somewhat different feel.

“So angels meditate too.”

“Quietly closing one’s eyes and calmly looking inward is necessary for everyone.”

I asked if we had interrupted his meditation. The knight said no.

“Not at all. I was just finishing, so don’t mind.”

“What do you think about during meditation?”

“Reasons.”

The reason he woke up here.

The knight added that and adjusted his posture to make conversation more comfortable. I had intended to gradually continue questions on the topic of meditation, but it seems my intention was read.

After changing his posture for conversation, the knight opened his mouth in a calm voice. I instinctively realized it would soon be my turn to receive questions.

“Were you the one who found me in the place called Necropolis?”

I replied that it wasn’t me.

That wasn’t a lie. The first to discover the cedar coffin were the Templar Knights who went underground.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“You were found by members of the Templar Knights. When they raided Al-Khair’s base, they discovered the coffin along with the stolen sacred blood in the basement. I arrived at the scene afterward.”

The knight showed no particular reaction. He seemed unaware of the cultists’ identity, purpose, or the circumstances and context of how the coffin was moved there.

However, the moment I mentioned the Templar Knights, I could hear the knight murmuring, “Do they still exist?”

I sensed an indescribable emotion in that murmur. It was a very complex and subtle feeling.

To probe the knight’s reaction, I suggested, ‘I’ll list the events that have occurred over the past few weeks in chronological order, and if anything stands out to you, please mention it.’

“First, I’ll explain how the Order came to track Al-Khair. The incident began at a refugee camp.”

Refugees rushing into the camp for survival. The camp was bustling with people fleeing from the flames of civil war and the threat of monsters.

Lucia, leading nuns and priests, arrived at the refugee camp and underwent a blood test.

Medical staff from an international aid organization drew blood from the Saint and stored it in a freezer, but it was stolen by cultists who broke in.

“After recognizing that the sacred blood had been stolen, we tracked them. The Inquisition played an important role.”

“What is the Inquisition?”

The knight asked me what the Inquisition was.

As I was about to speak, Veronica answered instead:

“The Holy Office of Inquisition. An institution that oversees various tasks including heresy investigation, forbidden book management, doctrine supervision, criminal psychology, and religious trials. Until the 7th Council in 1855, it was known as the Sacred Congregation for the Examination of Evil under the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith.”

“…”

The moment the old, now-forgotten name came from the Saint’s lips.

The knight fell silent as if lost in thought. I waited, thinking he might have something to say, but his lips remained sealed.

Since it didn’t seem like an answer would come, I moved on. I began listing the subsequent events:

How we identified the cultists and entered Necropolis,

How we discovered the cedar coffin while searching the dwelling in Necropolis,

What happened after bringing it to the facility,

Meeting Akande when we returned to the city.

The story concluded, but the knight remained silent. I asked him to tell me if anything came to mind. But my words seemed to fall on deaf ears.

The silence continued.

The knight was silent and remained silent. His lips and tongue were heavily sealed as if ruminating on the story in deep resonance.

How much time had passed? After a long silence, the knight raised his head. His helmet was pointed at Veronica.

Looking at her, the knight broke the silence. After a truly long silence, his voice was heard.

“…Is the Sacred Congregation still hunting witches?”

The knight asked, and the Saint shook her head.

“If by witches you mean those people who were unjustly accused and burned alive, beheaded, or drowned, then no. Magic has been officially recognized for over a hundred years. In today’s world, what inquisitor would go around hunting witches? Even dark mages aren’t caught that way anymore without being criticized.”

The Saint of the Order spoke indifferently about religious trials that had become nominal and heresy investigations that existed in name only.

Listening to her words, the knight fell silent again.

His tightly closed lips opened again after about 40 seconds.

“I’ve heard your story well. Much has happened while I slept.”

I asked him if anything had come to mind.

“I do not know exactly what intention these people called Al-Khair had in taking my coffin. I have no idea. All I know is that they represent themselves with a word derived from the Ubramic language.”

“Akande, who introduced himself as the ‘Shamir’ of his time, testified that Al-Khair raided the temple and took the cedar coffin.”

“Where is he now?”

I answered that Akande was on his way here.

When I asked if he was interested in meeting him, the reply was, “Not yet, but if he wishes to meet, please let me know anytime.”

It was an interesting answer.

“Would the cult have any reason to kidnap you?”

“I am being kidnapped even now.”

The knight calmly stated that he was still in a kidnapped state. I immediately looked at Veronica.

“See? Even he says he’s been kidnapped. Isn’t Veronica the leader of the kidnappers?”

Veronica, who was about to extend her middle finger again, quickly lowered her hand upon seeing the knight before her. Forcing a bright smile, she started laughing as if nothing had happened.

Of course, she was viciously stomping on my instep under the table, but…

Anyway.

“So you don’t know Al-Khair’s purpose. No idea at all.”

“That’s right.”

“Haa… Then why did they take the Saint’s blood? You don’t look like a vampire at all. What were they going to use the blood for, and why were you there? What on earth were they trying to be reborn as to cause all this commotion…?”

At that moment.

“What did you just say?”

I looked at the knight as if to ask what he meant. The knight leaned his upper body slightly forward, pushing his helmet out a bit.

“What? That they took the Saint’s blood? Or that they wanted to be reborn?”

“The latter.”

“It’s one of Al-Khair’s core doctrines, presumed to be related to this incident. Specifically, ‘Be reborn.’ We’re still trying to figure out what they want to be reborn as.”

“…”

“Did something come to mind?”

I expected a nutritious answer, but what came back was unexpectedly deflating.

The knight threw another Zen-like question:

“Let me ask one thing. It seems I was discovered by the Order, is that correct?”

“Yes. Since the Templar Knights found you.”

“Then who woke me up?”

“No one woke you up. We didn’t open the coffin; the coffin opened itself.”

While speaking, I felt something odd and asked the knight:

“…Didn’t you open it yourself and come out?”

“If it wasn’t an old friend who woke me, I thought one of you must have opened the coffin. From Altiora, or Medius.”

At this sudden, out-of-nowhere statement, Veronica and I looked at each other.

Altiora refers to Altiora Cathedral where saints reside. Medius is the cathedral with the Holy See. And the Medius Cathedral with the Holy See symbolizes none other than the Pope.

The problem is that, contrary to the knight’s claim, neither Veronica nor Raphael had any intention of waking him.

“W-why would I wake you up?”

Veronica wore a noticeably flustered expression. She was so flustered that she even stammered.

The knight was the same. As if the Saint’s reaction was different from what he expected, the knight looked at Veronica and asked the same question back:

“…You didn’t wake me from Altiora?”

“Why would I wake you up? I was originally ordered to come here because vampires were discovered in the Mauritanian continent and I needed to eliminate them. What nonsense are you talking about? No, the Vatican thought you were a vampire from the beginning!”

With black smoke billowing from an 800-year-old coffin, who wouldn’t think it was a vampire? That visual was unmistakably a vampire to anyone who saw it.

The Vatican wouldn’t be crazy enough to open a cedar coffin to wake up a vampire. They did try to open the lid, but that was to kill the vampire, not with any intention of waking it up to do something.

The knight, who had been staring at Veronica, murmured softly. A sigh mixed in, as if to indicate something had gone wrong.

“…An ill omen.”

Noticing something ominous, Veronica cautiously opened her mouth:

“Is it a bad phenomenon…?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Since I woke up on my own, not awakened by someone else. It surely doesn’t bode well.”

I interpreted that as meaning we’re fucked.

At the sudden ominous words, the Saint frowned. The knight rose from his seat as if preparing for something, and I, thinking we’re fucked again, first put a cigarette in my mouth.

The knight spoke:

“I apologize for not fully answering your questions so far, but we don’t have time to be sitting here like this.”

“Why don’t you tell us what’s going on?”

“I don’t know who these Al-Khair people are, but I think I vaguely understand the meaning of ‘Be reborn.’ If my understanding matches their meaning, we cannot just sit still.”

The Saint asked:

“What exactly does ‘Be reborn’ mean to you?”

The knight looked directly at the Saint.

“You seem to think these Al-Khair people aspire to become creatures of darkness with the help of a pure-blooded vampire. It may be premature to conclude, but I suspect their goal is not to become creatures of darkness.”

“Then…?”

“They want to become one with a great evil. When I heard the word ‘Be reborn,’ something came to mind.”

When asked what it was, the knight spoke:

“Like a hungry snake, it extends thin vines to grab people’s necks, and when their last breath is about to end, it hangs them on skinny branches. It increases its victims by swallowing with its roots those who try to retrieve the bodies of the dead.

Desert travelers called it this:

The Tree That Drinks Blood.”