Ch.478Episode 17 – The Blood-Drinking Tree

The combination of flint, a wide dish, and black powder sounds like the crudest joke in today’s world where cartridges and smokeless powder have taken their place.

Yet both the one facing the muzzle and the one aiming it were deadly serious.

Long ago, there was a massacre.

The witch hunt.

Along with the Crusades, it was the greatest slaughter perpetrated by the Church.

An enormous number of witch hunts took place over hundreds of years, creating countless victims.

The inquisitors of the Holy Office were obsessed with rooting out witches scattered across the land. Thus, in modern times, people remember the witch hunts as a historic massacre committed by religion. Even the Church’s own theologians have come to accept this view.

However, according to recent historical research, ironically, the most zealous participants in witch hunts were neither clergy nor inquisitors, but ordinary people.

To settle personal grudges.

To eliminate competitors.

Because they disliked someone.

To quell unrest among the unstable peasant class.

Because they coveted someone’s wealth.

Except for the earliest witch hunts, those conducted in the middle period onward were largely a massive business and entertainment carried out by common people and local ruling classes.

Grotesquely, it was contract killing and robbery made legal under the name of a peace-loving heavenly god.

Catastrophe’s flintlock was a byproduct of that era.

A means of revenge received from the devil by a man enraged at the death of his beloved woman. A memorial shot to console her poor soul who was falsely accused of being a witch, and a magnificent firework to adorn her final celebration in life.

A brush that painted the world red with the blood of 400 victims.

Now it was aimed at an angel in the hands of a saint.

Episode 17 – The Tree That Drinks Blood

An ancient musket, too old to even be called outdated.

It was a completely different weapon from her beloved revolver or side-by-side shotgun.

“Do you know how to use that thing?”

Veronica, aiming the musket, answered.

“A little.”

Her snow-white front teeth bit into the paper cartridge. She pulled the flint. Filled the pan with powder.

As the smokeless powder poured out, the paper and ammunition were loaded.

Her hands loading the musket showed no hesitation. Having skillfully completed the loading, the saint raised the musket and aimed at her target.

At the end of where the muzzle was pointing stood an angel armed with twin swords.

“…How dare you.”

Nathaniel’s trembling voice echoed in my head.

As if angry, as if shocked, amid a torrent of constantly changing emotions, a passionate voice burst from the angel’s throat.

“You dare point that evil, vile weapon at me? And you call yourself a member of the clergy!”

“So you recognize it, I see.”

The ancient musket was not simply a relic of a bygone era. It was a curse born from the madness of an age that created countless victims in God’s name.

A weapon infused with the grudge of a marksman who made a deal with the devil to avenge his lover who was falsely accused as a witch and unjustly killed.

“A gun that took 389 lives. The fragmented soul of the arch-devil Catastrophe and the soul of an assassin who dreamed of revenge are contained in this gun.”

“Catastrophe! The Devil of the Hunt! Why do you possess a weapon left by that accursed fiend!”

The saint holding the cursed musket let out a mocking laugh.

“Well, it was kept in the Vatican’s repository. Naturally, it came into my hands.”

The Vatican’s repository. A vault as ancient as it is secret.

It’s also where holy relics and all manner of cursed objects collected by the Church from around the world over thousands of years are stored. Objects possessed by evil spirits or infused with terrible grudges.

The Vatican buried all impure things in the repository alongside the most sacred objects. So they would never see the light of day again.

And now, one of those vile objects was in Veronica’s possession.

I asked her with a look of complete incomprehension.

“Why do you have that?”

Veronica replied with a remarkably proud attitude.

“Obviously, because I stole it!”

“…What?”

“I was given keys to grab some holy relics in advance because a vampire had appeared, and when I went into the repository, there it was! They had kept it under strict guard because it once blew the Pope’s head off. But it’s not like a centuries-old object is going to grow legs and run away, so how well could it be managed? Especially when the repository is bursting at the seams with all kinds of junk they’ve stuffed in there over the ages.”

So, to sum it up.

Taking advantage of the lax security as the repository was about to burst with newly arrived items, she secretly evaded surveillance and walked out with a cursed weapon. Is that what she’s saying?

What the fuck is this bullshit? Why would she take that thing out, this crazy woman? Has she completely lost her mind?

I rolled my eyes in momentary dizziness, but this woman who treats even the Pope as an old fogey couldn’t care less about such concerns.

“Haha! No one can stop me! That’s the limitation of church law!”

“This is… unbearable… A human claiming to be God’s servant daring to wield the devil’s instrument!”

Nathaniel erupted with a fury I had never seen before.

“I’ll cut off your head right now!”

After spewing out a tirade of tangled emotions, the angel swung a sword at the saint. Then a massive hammer blocked the path between the angel and the saint.

“Stop, Nathaniel. Are you trying to harm a human before me?”

It was Ramiel.

The knight who grabbed the end of the hammer and pushed back the oncoming sword gave Nathaniel a threatening look.

Nathaniel responded sharply to being restrained.

“Will you just stand by and watch the sins of this unruly woman?”

To this accusatory question, Ramiel glanced briefly at Veronica, then turned back to Nathaniel.

“Looking at an object infused with evil is unpleasant for me as well. I understand the desire to destroy that unholy thing immediately. But we cannot charge her with blasphemy.”

“After pretending to be righteous, you hesitate again, Ramiel. Do you still have the right to speak of justice?”

“You may condemn me as a coward if you wish. But don’t even dream of presiding over judgment. That is not permitted to either you or me.”

“Ramiel. You’ve always been like this. Even when Lothario committed massacres in God’s name-“

Suddenly, thunder shook the stone chamber, cutting off Nathaniel’s words.

Swoosh-! A savage sound of air being cut. From the darkness came an unexpected attack, which was blocked by a silvery line that bloomed to intercept it.

A painful noise of steel deflecting steel erupted. Nathaniel’s hesitant gaze fell upon the saint. Smoke was rising from the muzzle of the musket. Veronica, having aligned her sights, was grinning.

Then, thunk, a round metal ball embedded itself in the angel’s abdomen.

“Ugh…!”

“Nathaniel!”

Ramiel, who had been pushing back the sword with his hammer, was startled. Nathaniel, clutching his abdomen, spoke in disbelief.

“How… I clearly deflected it…”

“If a magic bullet could be blocked so easily, there would be no reason for it to be locked away in the repository.”

Veronica, who had already lowered the musket from her shoulder, added in a mocking tone.

“Works perfectly! As expected from a devil! I believed in you!”

It was clearly provocative taunting.

Wait, is she really a saint? She disrespects old men who could be her father. She runs away from her duties. Now she’s even stealing and using objects sealed by the Vatican. And against an angel, no less.

Is this really the Veronica I know? Perhaps she’s been possessed by a devil without my knowledge?

Despite my concerns, the saint shooting at an angel was indeed the Veronica I knew. It was truly a pitiful situation. The future of the Church. Is this really acceptable?

“You… you… worm of a woman…!”

Perhaps with anger rising to the top of his head, Nathaniel began to swing his twin swords mercilessly. But Veronica, just as the angel had done, dodged the attacks by weaving between the pillars.

Having caused the angel’s wrath, she passed the problem to me.

“Please reload for me!”

“Wh-what?”

After handing over the cursed musket and asking me to reload it, Veronica leaped behind a pillar. Then the angel started swinging his sword not only at the fleeing Veronica but at me as well.

An exclamation boiled up from my gut and burst out.

“Oh, shit!”

Veronica, who was jumping over debris, looked in my direction and winked.

“Run if you don’t want to die, Major!”

“Hey, you crazy bitch-!”

*

The reason Nathaniel was pissed off was extremely simple.

The existence of a weapon containing a devil’s soul.

Specifically, showing it right in front of him was the problem, but if she hadn’t shown it, he wouldn’t have known it existed in the first place, so it amounted to the same thing.

Anyway,

What provoked the angel’s anger was Catastrophe’s flintlock. Veronica had brought it, and now it was in my hands.

Naturally, Nathaniel’s anger extending to me was a very natural course of events.

“Mother, fuck!”

Dodging the slashes coming from behind while running for my life, I shouted in an aggrieved voice.

“Why are you coming after me, you featherless pigeon! I just received the damn thing!”

“Silence!”

“It’s true, I swear!”

In technical terms, this was a “throw.”

A technique sometimes used by drug criminals. And with drugs, just possessing them can lead to suspicion, distrust, and the love and care of law enforcement agencies in the form of gunfire.

In other words, Veronica had executed a throw. What? A cursed weapon. To whom? To me.

Thanks to her, I was now fleeing from a thoroughly angered angel with the mindset of a Mexican drug dealer being chased by the DEA.

I fired my rifle, harboring faint hope that the armor-piercing blessed bullets borrowed from the Knights Templar might work. But sadly, unlike the fat angel, this newly encountered angel was quite nimble. He seemed to have invested all his points in agility, dodging every shot I fired.

After wasting most of the bullets I’d brought on thin air, I had to roll around with the musket tucked against my side.

Inhaling all the dust accumulated over the ages and the stone powder scattered by the battle.

“Why do these things always happen to me!”

I shouted with a sense of injustice, but no one answered. Ramiel was struggling to block Nathaniel who was dancing with his swords, and Akande was sticking with the knight, beating the angel.

For reference, Veronica had started counterattacking with her revolver.

To be fair, the fact that I was still alive with all my limbs intact was thanks to her drawing the angel’s attention so he couldn’t focus on me.

“If you have time to shoot, reload this thing! Why give it to me?! This is like giving someone a disease and then the medicine!”

“Oh, you weren’t doing anything anyway!”

Coming at me with a shameless fact, I had nothing to say in response.

Anyway.

I needed to divert the angel’s attention somehow. Since the cursed weapon was the start of the problem, I needed to deal with it first.

Fortunately or unfortunately, I had once seen an ex-Mujahideen old man who claimed to have sniped Soviet soldiers in Afghanistan handle a musket, so I could clumsily follow the method.

His disciple or whatever had hunted wild animals with the gun originally used to kill commies and served us meals. But that’s not important right now-

“Take it, quick!”

As I continued loading while moving from cover to cover, I grabbed the stock of the musket and lifted it up.

Veronica darted over like a ghost and snatched it away.

“Thanks!”

After receiving the loaded musket, she took cover behind a pillar. With her back against the solid sandy brick, she caught her breath with deep inhales and exhales.

I peeked out to assess the situation and exchanged glances with Veronica. As I moved my lips slightly, she understood my intent and pressed the stock against her shoulder.

Her breathing stopped.

She aligned the sights.

Amid the obstacles and darkness, flashes of sword strikes glittered. Twin swords chaotically traced patterns in the air, and glowing tattoos and swinging hammers raised dust.

-Click.

– ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ !!

The magic bullet began to cut through the air with fierce momentum.

Nathaniel began to respond just after the flash erupted from the muzzle.

The angel’s form, which had been blocking a descending hammer with his swords, became blurry for an instant. Immediately after, something like smoke rose from a pillar a short distance away, and Nathaniel emerged from the darkness.

Just as Nathaniel reappeared, the magic bullet, which had been flying in a straight line, suddenly changed direction. It was like a curving bullet straight out of a movie.

“My God, what is that!”

As I opened my eyes wide in astonishment, Veronica raised her voice.

“I told you it’s a magic bullet!”

“No, how does a bullet just curve like that?”

“That’s why it’s a magic bullet! How would an ordinary bullet curve? Does it have ancestors guiding its trajectory?”

A chase ensued between the angel and the magic bullet. As Nathaniel ran across the arches connecting the pillars, the magic bullet that had penetrated through the pillars followed closely behind.

Boom boom boom. The pillars were pierced one after another like a string of sausages. Even as it pierced through bricks like a skewer, the magic bullet’s speed hardly diminished.

Nathaniel, who had been frantically fleeing, cut through a pillar with his twin swords. When the silver slash touched the middle section, the halved pillar crashed down.

As the arch collapsed with the fall, the platform Nathaniel had been standing on disappeared, and his body lost balance and tilted sideways at that moment.

The magic bullet, flying through dust and debris, narrowly grazed between his chest and forearm, through his armpit.

Watching the scene, Veronica clicked her tongue in disappointment.

“It just grazed his armpit. Since it did hit him, I’ll need to shoot again… That’s a shame. If it had gone a little more to the side, it would have hit his heart.”

“…Are you really a saint?”

“Could there be a more perfect saint in the world than me? Except for my sister, of course.”

At this point, I wondered if the Heavenly God had chosen the wrong saint. I was tempted to report Veronica to the Inquisition right then and there.

Just then, something sharp grazed past the saint’s head. The air pressure lifted her hair, and a fine line appeared on her soft cheek, soon followed by blood trickling down her jaw.

I quickly pulled Veronica behind some debris, and there was a savage sound of something embedding itself—pabapak! It was a dagger.

It was Nathaniel’s doing, who had been falling after destroying the arch. A throwing knife from a distance that must have been well over 60 meters. It had nearly hit Veronica’s head. This was a skill that could hardly be considered human.

Nathaniel, who had landed on the ground, pulled three daggers from within his cloak.

Like a fan unfolding, the three daggers spread out in his hand. Then a massive shadow cut through the dust, flying toward the back of his head.

It was a hammer.

-Boom!

Just before the hammer collided with the back of his head, Nathaniel rolled on the ground and successfully avoided the attack.

The ground had become as uneven as an earthquake site. Ramiel, gripping the end of the handle, was pushing away the broken bricks with his foot and lifting the embedded hammer when—

A projectile that writhed like smoke flew toward the knight. The massive hammer cut through the air to deflect it.

The projectile, its trajectory altered, continued straight ahead and soon collided with a wall. Like a burst water balloon, smoke spread in all directions, and objects that came into contact with the smoke began to decay rapidly.

“Decay is part of the cycle.”

Objects that had maintained their majesty and form despite the passage of time turned to dust in an instant.

Trampling that dust, Nathaniel walked steadily forward.

“Do not waste time with futile resistance. No being can defy the cycle.”

So this was divine power.

Though different from the knight’s power, it was similarly a force that could hardly be explained by magic or holiness.

Ramiel, with the hammer on his shoulder, began to dash forward, but it was a futile action. Smoke that had leaked from beneath Nathaniel’s cloak spread in all directions, corroding the floor.

Soon after.

The corroding floor bricks began to fall. Rumble! The helpless fall led to collapse, and we hastily retreated. Thus, a canyon was formed. A massive canyon separating Nathaniel from us.

The angel who had devastated the area with a single gesture looked across to the other side. And spoke to Ramiel with a contemptuous tone.

“The same goes for you, Ramiel.”

“…Hmm.”

The knight who had lowered his hammer made a sound of discomfort. Visibly troubled.

But contrary to his seemingly troubled attitude, his voice was remarkably calm.

Barely audible, the knight spoke quietly. So that only we could hear.

“…Nathaniel presides over the cycle. Be careful not to be touched by her power. Your body will rot and turn to dust in the blink of an eye.”

Glancing at the back of Ramiel’s head, I quietly asked a question.

“Can we capture her?”

“It’s possible, but not easy.”

So it is possible, after all.

I wish he would just tell us how.

As I was thinking this,

The knight, with his back to the three of us, began to make a request.

“Lure Nathaniel close to me.”

Then, gripping his hammer, he added in a calm voice.

“After that, I will finish it myself.”

*

Lure Nathaniel close to Ramiel.

Having a plan was good, but the problem was how to execute it.

“It seems difficult to lure that angel. Even if we succeed in luring her, she’ll probably escape quickly.”

“……”

“Does anyone have any good ideas?”

The saint posed the question, but no one answered. It was truly a miserable situation. And she had definitely asked the wrong people.

A half-naked tattooed pork soup stock insect who could barely speak Mauritanian common language, and a self-proclaimed angel who might or might not be a fallen angel.

This was hardly a lineup where one could expect to find a decent plan.

In the end, I was the only one who came up with anything resembling a plan. Though to be honest, it was hardly worthy of being called a plan.

After listening to my explanation, Veronica frowned slightly and asked if this was really the best we could do.

“You’re going to do that? Now?”

“We don’t have any other options.”

“I don’t think that kind of attack will work…”

“We still have to try.”

“…Alright. Let’s follow your plan for now, Major.”

And shortly after.

The attack began.

*

Amid the tension-filled silence, the assault began without warning.

“I’m going!”

Black tattoos scattered light as they traced trajectories. Akande, boasting his muscular physique, began to fly through the air.

Thud, thud, thud. After taking exactly three steps, he leaped. He jumped across the fissure, overcoming the potentially deadly precipice.

As the tattoos running from his calves to his heels flickered out, the tattoos on the back of his hands ignited, channeling power into his fists.

He deflected a hand trying to grab his collar, blocked a fist aiming for his chin, and dodged a rising elbow. Amid the exchange of fists, when a knee dug into his abdomen, Akande let out a fierce laugh.

“…!”

Akande’s expression, which had been laughing boisterously, suddenly changed. A tingling sensation. Sensing danger, he kicked off the ground and retreated.

Sure enough, ominous smoke gathered like cumulus clouds and surged up from beneath his feet.

Nathaniel used her power while chasing after the fleeing Akande. Or rather, she tried to.

If only another deafening thunder hadn’t been heard.

The identity of that sound’s owner was obvious.

“Take this!”

Veronica, holding the musket with one hand, pulled the trigger. A thunderous gunshot erupted.

Sensing the evil energy, Nathaniel aimed her twin swords at an angle.

A chilling sound like scraping metal was heard, and an iron ball filled with terrible grudge embedded itself in her leg.

“Tch. She deflected the magic bullet.”

Nathaniel, who had altered the bullet’s trajectory with her twin swords, pulled out a dagger. The dagger she drew from within her cloak rushed toward the saint, tearing through the pitch darkness, but seeing this, the saint threw away the musket and jumped onto the debris.

The clash between the angels left many scars on the stone chamber. Broken pillars, raised ground, collapsed bricks.

A small hill formed by accumulated debris. As Veronica kicked off from that hill, clusters of pure white light began to gather.

Holy Spirit.

The miracle that made the Vatican recognize a young girl as a saint, and the primary contributor to nailing devils to hell.

Veronica, who had leaped into the air, grabbed her revolver and reached toward the light cluster.

However,

-Rustle!

“…Huh?”

An object too fast to follow with the eye grazed right in front of her, and the light cluster that had gathered in the air disappeared. Like being pierced by an arrow, like scattered flower petals, the light cluster was dispersing.

Following a thunk! sound of something embedding itself, Veronica’s gaze shifted to that spot. The object stuck between a pillar and an arch was none other than a dagger.

The angel who had extinguished the light cluster with a throwing knife spoke with a cold sneer.

“What a trivial trick.”

Veronica suppressed her anger with an expression that suggested embarrassment. It was natural, given that her attempt to use the Holy Spirit in a stylish way had been thwarted.

“Oh, come on!”

Ta, ta, ta. The revolver engraved with sacred symbols spat fire.

Bullets specially permitted by the Vatican to fight against the unholy and evil. Bullets made by melting down crosses and sacred objects from the cathedral were fired toward the angel. Nathaniel’s waist bent backward, touching the ground, and the powerful gunfire grazed past.

After avoiding the gunfire with acrobatic flexibility, the angel was standing in place when Akande, who had somehow gotten behind her, struck her head with his leg.

Nathaniel blocked the leg with her arm and tried to stab Akande with a dagger, but gunfire resumed, forcing her to retreat as if unwilling to allow a counterattack.

The battle between the angel, the saint, and the Shamir was intense. It was almost impossible for an ordinary person to follow with their eyes.

Veronica and Akande, who had crossed the split gap, were driving Nathaniel back with all their might. Meanwhile, Ramiel stood on the other side, silently watching with his hammer.

One person was circumventing behind the debris.

“…Fuck this shit.”

Frederick, covered in dust and stone powder, cursed.

Avoiding the collapsed floor, he had barely made it across by stepping on bricks that were still somehow attached. It was understandable, having crossed a precarious stepping stone path using bricks that could fall at any moment due to cracks.

Frederick, lying prone on the debris, carefully assessed the battle situation.

Tattoos on Akande’s abdomen and lower back glowed, emitting a bull’s roar, and a shockwave reminiscent of a martial arts novel’s lion’s roar rushed along the ground. Nathaniel, avoiding this with acrobatic movements, also had bullets infused with sacred power flying past her with ping, ping sounds.

“Damn. They’re fighting fiercely…”

The assessment of the situation was complete.

Frederick peeked into the bag he had brought. Then quickly closed it and took several deep breaths.

And then.

“Everyone, attention!”

He stood up abruptly from the debris and shouted toward the half-naked tattooed pork soup stock insect, the saint with terrible personality, and the angel claimant.

Then, quickly running downward, he shouted:

“A bomb’s about to explode, so take cover!”

At first glance, it seemed like a ridiculous bluff. As she knew, explosive weapons were typically large and cumbersome.

Nathaniel, who had been throwing daggers and deflecting punches with her twin swords, spoke.

“Ridiculous. Don’t bluff. Where is this bomb supposed to be?”

The answer to that question would soon be known.

Not through words, but through action.

Something unidentifiable slapped against Nathaniel’s spine with a smack! Judging by the impact, it was quite a heavy object.

Nathaniel reached behind her back and felt along her spine, experiencing a strangely alien texture. It felt like a bag.

The angel pulled the object forcefully and confirmed its identity. A dangling, ugly cloth bag. Inside were rectangular bricks of indeterminate purpose, strung together on a thick wire with metal pins.

At that moment, Frederick, who was passing by Nathaniel’s side, turned his head. Gently placing his thumb over the detonator.

In that instant, lips muttering something came into the angel’s view. It was a simple two-word sentence.

‘You idiot.’

And then there was light.

The military explosives packed full inside violently tore through the cloth bag and erupted. It was a magnificent explosion of light and flame.

With a whoosh, the angel’s body was helplessly lifted by the sudden gust. As Nathaniel soared into the air, Akande, with Veronica and Frederick tucked under his arms, kicked off the ground.

With a bull-like charge, he leaped across the deep canyon.

The air pressure created by the massive body moving like lightning beat against the plate armor. But the knight merely looked up at the sky without looking at the three people.

Nathaniel, who had risen, was now falling to the ground.

As the angel fell across the deep gap she had created herself.

Another angel was standing firm at the end.

“……”

Clank, the gauntlet gripped the handle more firmly.

The hammer traced a full moon.

The crude hammer pushed away Nathaniel’s upper body, shattering shoulder plates and breastplates. Brutally, viciously, beautifully.

Ramiel swung his hammer with all his might, striking Nathaniel who had been propelled by the explosion’s impact. Having been hit by an angel’s hammer, even another angel could not remain unscathed.

Nathaniel’s form bent with a thud, and her trajectory was altered.

Crash, crash, crash! Several pillars were destroyed in succession. Only after piercing through five and a half did Nathaniel’s form finally stop by embedding into a wall.

“You too have grown weaker than I remember, Nathaniel.”

Watching this, Ramiel set down his hammer with a thud.

“Though I am stronger, of course.”