Ch.491Episode 17 – The Blood-Drinking Tree

Just as there cannot be two suns under the same sky, there cannot be more than one saint. This is revealed even in the scripture, which transcribes the words of the celestial god and evangelists.

Twelve disciples served the celestial god, but the key to heaven was entrusted only to the favored disciple. If divine affection toward disciples is such, how much greater must be the affection that flows from god to child, from human to human?

That’s why the Vatican’s evaluation of the two female saints was starkly divided.

Political status, high proficiency, ability to handle holy spirits, connections, negotiation skills—Veronica was several steps ahead in many areas, but in personal aspects, especially character and conduct, she was considered quite lacking by general consensus.

She brought criticism upon herself by behaving like an unruly colt. Meanwhile, her successor was known to be such a solid and diligent person.

In contrast, Lucia lagged behind her predecessor in many areas but was judged far superior in character and conduct. Even those who adamantly opposed her canonization had to nod in agreement.

“Shut your mouth and die.”

The moment such vulgar profanity emerged from the mouth of this paragon of virtue recognized by the Vatican, the air froze. Everyone just stared at the saint with their mouths agape.

Lucia shifted her weight, taking heavy steps with the mace in her hand.

The sight of her—disheveled and uttering crude words—was jarring. She looked like a completely different person. Struggling with this cognitive dissonance, I suddenly recalled something I’d heard long ago.

‘Lucia, you know. My sister. In my opinion, if she hadn’t become a saint, she would have excelled as an inquisitor or exorcist.’

Episode 17 – The Blood-Drinking Tree

The saint’s cold, scolding demeanor was completely at odds with what I’d heard about her. I almost wondered if I had mistaken her for someone else.

The madman obsessed with the cult was left speechless.

“……”

The woman before him was a detestable servant of the celestial god, but her reputation for gentleness and meekness was well-known. They said that even when insulted, she never got angry but smiled instead. Some called her a naive fool with flowers in her head who knew nothing of the world. And yet…

What on earth was this?

Listen to her voice, sunk lower than the air of the slums.

Look at her face, devoid of even a trace of emotion. It’s nothing short of a mask.

“……”

The madman of Al-Khair stared at the woman with a hardened expression.

Cracks appeared on her pink lips as they parted from their tight seal.

“The Apostle Paul said: Let not him who eats despise him who does not eat, and let not him who does not eat judge him who eats. Why do you judge your brother or despise him? We shall all stand before the heavenly judgment seat.”

Her eyelids opened gently, followed by a soft breath.

The saint spoke.

“…Respect is the foundation of faith. All beliefs deserve respect, and no one has the right to despise or judge others. Much less to condemn one another.”

Her sparkling eyes gazed at the madman.

“First, you despise others. You judge others. And now you seek to condemn them.”

The saint rebuked the madman. It was a cold reprimand.

“Simply because they do not share your beliefs.”

“……”

“That is why your faith does not deserve respect. Because faith springs from respect. That’s why you are a heretic, a cultist. Now, please accept my mace.”

The saint gestured with her mace, beckoning him to come down. As if promising to send him off painlessly with one blow.

The corners of his mouth twisted into a grotesque shape. The brown crust stuck to his upper lip contorted and distorted with his flesh.

“A sinner trying to judge another sinner!”

The old man spread his arms.

His skeletal arms, reminiscent of withered branches, protruded from his scorched and torn sleeves.

“Your Vatican is nothing but a den of sin.”

He spread his arms wide, and with a voice filled with malice, he continued his sermon, stained with madness.

His arrogant gaze turned toward the saint.

“Was it love that led you to hang innocent women on the gallows? Was it peace flowing like a river that made you behead pagans? I witnessed my family killed under soldiers’ bayonets. And beside the murderers, priests praying. Praying even as voices cried out for mercy. It’s been over 40 years, but I remember it clearly.”

“……”

“You say respect is the foundation of faith? Then how healthy is your faith?”

“Was revenge your purpose?”

The saint asked, and the old man answered.

“No. Water spilled cannot be gathered again. I came not for revenge, but to offer salvation.”

The Great Mother sacrificed herself to create the earth. All life on this land originated from the Mother. Therefore, harming the land is an act of impiety against the Mother and goes against the providence established by God.

All life must return to the primordial state and rest in the Mother’s embrace.

That is the only salvation, the only way to seek forgiveness.

“Sinful humans must rightfully return to the Mother’s embrace.”

The saint’s gaze turned behind her. She saw a corpse covered with a tarpaulin.

“Is that what you mean by returning to nature?”

“Yes.”

The madman smiled. A smile stained with pride spread across his face.

“When the sacred tree completes its growth, all humans on this earth will simultaneously be embraced by the Mother. The most high and good Mother will separate the sinners and cast them into hell, and guide the righteous souls to heaven.”

“Judgment is for the dead to receive. Forcibly taking lives to bring them to judgment is an impious thought.”

“Do not say they are dead. The Mother of All has proclaimed the gospel with mercy and joy. The kingdom of heaven is theirs. There they will eat the Mother’s nourishment, live eternally by her side, and enjoy everlasting joy. Though they die, they are not dead.”

His expression was infinitely serene.

Like a sweet repose, sitting by a window with clear sunlight streaming in, gazing at meadows. His deep wrinkles were soaked in ecstasy. That made the scene all the more chilling.

How many people must die? How many people must he kill? This is neither salvation nor forgiveness. Such things should not be called salvation.

The saint stepped forward with a strong stride and spoke.

“I will stop you. The massacre will not happen, and your plan will fail.”

“It is not a massacre. This is peace.”

“Do you truly believe that peace obtained through the deaths of innocent people is genuine peace?”

His head tilted.

The madman looked down at the saint. With an expression of genuine confusion, he opened his mouth.

“What peace do you speak of? The wolves who burn widows to seize their property? The holy knights who display pagans from across the sea on spears? Or perhaps turning a blind eye to those groaning under military boots while supporting dictators who swear to follow the celestial god’s teachings?”

The question was posed.

The old man, once a victim and now a perpetrator, asked. The woman could not answer.

So the old man continued.

“The Vatican rejoiced when Mauritania finally accepted the celestial god. The converted ruler and the cardinal met, laughing and chatting. Because of this, the Mother of this land lost her children twice. By the dictator’s bayonets and by the deception of the celestial god’s followers. Is this the peace you know?”

“……”

“You have nothing to say.”

Lucia closed her eyes.

Seeing something in her closed eyes, the old man laughed loudly.

“Ha! Hahaha!”

He laughed as if the whole world could hear.

“The gold in your hands is a source of pride, but the blood staining it is shameful!”

The woman closed her eyes, and the old man laughed. The face of one filled with indignation and the face of one plunged into anguish were surprisingly similar.

A victorious smile appeared. Eyes soaked in ecstasy looked up at the detestable sky.

“Love and truth have parted ways, and justice and peace no longer kiss each other. The Vatican has abandoned its own faith. Now judgment will come. All that land will become sulfur and salt, where nothing can be planted or harvested. The Lateran will burn! Not a single blade of grass will grow on that corrupted land!”

The old man asked.

“What will you do now?”

It wasn’t a question but mockery.

The gently closed eyelids slowly opened.

Her pink lips parted, and Lucia spoke.

“…I acknowledge the past errors of the church. I deeply regret the crimes committed in God’s name.”

The old man’s mouth closed. His eyes, filled with melancholy, took in the sight.

“I know that behind the pretexts of ‘reclaiming holy lands’ and ‘purity of faith’ were executions, torture, merchants’ profit festivals, and the expansion of clerical influence. I also know that we turned a blind eye to countless priests and monks who lost their lives resisting oppression, and failed to listen to the desperate pleas of those who had their rights taken away.”

“……”

“Although I am not directly responsible, I deeply empathize with your pain. As a priest and as a human being, I sincerely apologize for the crimes we should never have committed. The sinners will stand trial in life and face judgment in death. I take responsibility for correcting all of this.”

The wrinkled hand trembled. A chilling light flowed from his bloodshot eyes.

His vision narrowed and blurred. His ears became deaf, unable to hear or be heard. Like immersing his body in cold river water, his thoughts were numbed. The old man, biting his lips, barely moved his trembling jaw.

“…Such empty-“

“However.”

His words were cut off. With a steadfast gaze, Lucia looked at the old man and continued speaking.

“Despite all this, you are still a sinner. Not because you misinterpreted God’s will or worshipped false idols. But because you took innocent lives.”

Humans cannot judge or despise others. Not because God commanded it so. But because respect and consideration are the source of all things.

Therefore, you are a sinner, Lucia said.

“Your anger may seem justified in your eyes. But there is no such thing as justified anger or justified revenge in this world.”

“This is an insult! Do not consider me an old man blinded by vengeance!”

“Even if your intentions are far from revenge. Even if your plan is idealistic. It makes no difference. From the moment you decided to take innocent lives to realize your ideals, you were already a sinner.”

Her eyes, always calm and quiet, now mixed with white and blue hues.

Those eyes of unfathomable depth were shining with a strange light.

“That is why I will stop you.”

Eyes swirling with white and blue, with whiteness and azure, stared at the old man.

Lucia looked at the old man. She held a flanged mace in her hand.

The old man glared at her and raised his staff.

“Mother of All—!”

Flowers bloomed and buds sprouted. Green leaves gathered like hands clasping together. The great tree, binding together spring and autumn, was nothing short of mystical.

Countless plants bloomed and withered repeatedly. Before this firework display of green and brown, humans looked like tiny dots.

At its center.

The saint, gripping her flanged mace, lowered her center of gravity, and from her delicate form, a small prayer began.

“…Depart from evil and do good; so shall you live forever. For the Father loves justice and does not forsake his saints. Light.”

Please, give me strength.

The wave of nature engulfed the saint.

*

A massive wave rose. A current containing all the colors found in nature, centered around green and brown, writhed.

The overflowing waves collided again and again. The undulating waves began to untangle the crumpled and tangled plants.

The heavy mace swung wildly. The flanged mace, made of several metal plates, was a weapon difficult to wield with one hand, but Lucia gripped it and swung it like a toy.

-Thud, bang, crack.

Tearing, crushing, smashing.

“Have mercy on us. Take pity on us.”

Lucia continued her prayer in a small voice.

-Crack! Crunch! Bang-!

The flanged mace, wrapped in pure white light, continued its song to her rhythm.

Observing this scene, Frederick relayed the situation to his companions.

“Lucia is facing the crazy old man. She’s handling the attacks alone.”

“Shouldn’t we help her?”

Camilla asked with concern. Frederick glanced down at the slum area.

-Craaaaaack-!

-Crrrrrunch-!

The entire street was in chaos. There was a swirling current of green and brown. Everything was being sucked in.

A fallen streetlight broke in half and crumbled, and old cars parked on the roadside were caught up in it. Even the cars that we and the federal government troops had arrived in were crushed and dragged into the mass of plants.

Lucia was right there.

Swinging her mace, pushing away stems and branches with her feet, and punching them.

She was single-handedly facing the onslaught of strange life forms coming from all directions.

“It’s impossible. At least from what I can see, we can’t help.”

There weren’t just plants and Lucia on the street. There were people too.

The evacuation order had been issued only for the area where the accident occurred. If an evacuation order were issued for the entire slum, an enormous number of residents would have to move. The state government, judging it difficult to accommodate so many people, ordered evacuation only near the “man-eating tree.”

The problem was that this place was quite far from the tree.

-Aaaaargh!

-Monster! A monster has appeared!

-Come out! Hurry and come out! Grandma, leave that behind and come out, please!

-Kyaaaaa!

Residents who hadn’t managed to evacuate poured into the streets. The crowd tangled, fell, and fled in all directions. This happened because they didn’t know where to flee.

The slum area instantly turned into pandemonium.

The sudden attack brought fear, and fear is contagious, so it was easy to imagine that more areas would fall into chaos.

“Help evacuate the residents.”

Frederick asked the federal government troops to help with resident evacuation. The commander’s face darkened.

He wanted to object that they couldn’t evacuate so many people with less than a platoon’s worth of troops. But Frederick drew a firm line, saying to take at least those who could escape. The commander, who had been anxiously gauging the situation, finally led his soldiers down to the street.

Watching the soldiers hurriedly descending the stairs, Francesca asked with a doubtful look.

“Won’t they just run away themselves? They looked like they were desperate to escape earlier.”

Let them run if they want to.

“Let’s go too.”

Frederick shouldered the bag he had retrieved from the car. The heavy duffel bag was as heavy as a full combat load, but he carried it as if it were nothing.

“Camilla. Hand the cube over to Francesca. We can’t move through the streets, so we’ll have to fly.”

“…Where are we going?”

Camilla looked at Frederick, clutching her painful side. She had already handed the cube to Francesca as requested.

Frederick tightened the duffel bag securely.

“In chess, capturing the king ends the game, and in battle, shooting the horse makes the general fall…”

His gaze turned to a distant place. About 3km, no, 2km away.

“Time to do some serious environmental damage.”