Ch.492Episode 17 – The Blood-Drinking Tree

A green monster unfurls its leaves and takes flight. Fruit falls from branches, exploding, and sharp seeds pierce through walls.

Thick black smoke rose high into the sky. Sporadic explosions spread across the ground. Gunshots rang out one after another, and the black smoke engulfed the slum in a dense haze.

The collapsing city was wrapped in fire and smoke. Smoke rose from downtown and soared from distant barriers.

And far away, in the middle of the slum.

A massive tree, as if from a world of childhood innocence, glowed with mystical radiance.

Episode 17 – The Blood-Drinking Tree

His family burned to death.

Bright red flames. A pit filled with corpses. Crushed fingers clawing at sand. Loud gunshots and the metallic smell of blood.

When steel hail pours into the mire, screams that seemed endless finally fade away.

As the reddish sunset illuminated the pit, eyelids reflexively opened.

The village was deathly quiet. The soldiers who had been pulling triggers left and right had long departed with their trucks. In the charred hut, from that bloody quagmire, a boy opened his eyes.

The boy who lost his family and neighbors in an instant survived alone, and a harsh fate guided him.

-On the 22nd, a massacre occurred in the Jubanka region of central Bonafra Republic in South Mauritania. This incident happened while a World Union delegation was visiting the Bonafra Republic…

-It is estimated that more than 140 nomadic residents, including women and children, were killed. An official told correspondents in an interview that “this massacre was an act of terrorism perpetrated by extremists”…

-However, experts suggest this tragedy may have resulted from the Bonafra government’s ongoing disputes with nomadic tribes over resources such as water, land, and magic stones, as well as their forced relocation policies…

He couldn’t forgive.

But there was nothing he could do.

Mauritania, stained with coups and civil wars, couldn’t embrace an orphaned boy. Parentless children were everywhere, and parents who had lost children were far more numerous. The boy was thrown into the harsh reality and had to learn how to survive.

He struggled to survive. He drank river water teeming with parasites and was beaten until his bones broke when caught stealing food. Unable to understand why he had to endure such suffering, he cried endlessly.

He lived because he couldn’t die, and as he clung to life day by day…

The boy first heard “the voice.”

-Fear not.

He saw twinkling starlight not in the night sky but in a knothole. While wandering the desert, he encountered a great tree that shook its branches, and a sweet voice was heard. With a mysticism that deeply drew in his soul, the tree caressed the boy’s spirit.

He was amazed.

He was moved.

It was beautiful.

As the calm sermons continued, his anger subsided. Tears flowed down his cheeks lightly dusted with sand. Thus, nature embraced the boy, and the boy yearned for nature.

The last prophet appeared, but the imams, stained with pleasure and greed, only glared with disbelief.

Disbelief led to insult and persecution. Taking pity on this, the Mother sent down a revelation. The celestial being gifted seeds in a pouch.

He had to return.

Though he had left of his own accord, he needed to go back to the land of radiance.

He had to lead.

The land of oblivion. The land beyond memory.

To the sea of all things that created life by measuring the earth and cutting cloth. To the primordial mother.

The boy yearned for nature.

He loved nature.

And forming a group with like-minded individuals, he established Al-Khair.

Now it was time to become one with nature and return.

*

“This is a revelation from the Compassionate, the Merciful, for people who understand.”

Flowers bloom. Smiling faces blossom into laughter.

The expressions of those crying with joy and those shedding tears of confession are fundamentally the same.

For happiness always accompanies those who believe. Everyone cried and laughed.

“Our hearts are closed so your invitation cannot reach us, and our ears are blocked so we cannot understand your words. There is a wall between us and you.”

Thick, hard rhizomes extend sideways in a winding manner. Thorn-like hooks sprout from each curved joint.

Misshapen leaves gently brush against cheeks.

The thick, glossy leaves are dyed deep green, and an old man’s face, filled with madness, becomes intoxicated with ecstasy. A flourishing yellowish-green sacred flower forms an unknown inflorescence.

As the unidentified plant droops its flowers and leaves like a willow, the old man reaches out to caress its fruits. The round fruits on the branches had already ripened to a red hue.

“Therefore, you do your work. We will do ours.”

Fruits fall, and faces bloom from the fully opened flowers. As flowers and stems collapse under their weight, life pours out from within.

The flowers grown from the earth embraced humans. Like a cradle holding a baby, the plants were cradling humans.

“People, from flowers…”

Lucia’s expression hardens.

Tales of beings born from flowers frequently appear in myths, legends, and oral literature. Humans, moved by the beauty of flowers, praise and sometimes deify that beauty. Life from an ideal realm must be more sacred and beautiful than other forms of life.

However, witnessing it firsthand was nothing but deeply disturbing.

Humans emerged from flowers and fruits. But no matter how much she looked around, none were whole.

Half-plant, half-human appearances, unidentifiable fluid dripping with sticky consistency. Despite their pained expressions, their mouths were stretched ear to ear in wide smiles.

There was no beauty there.

Only grotesqueness remained, and sadness swirled in her blue eyes.

“…These must be people who were devoured.”

The widely smiling humans rise. The flanged mace calmly descended upon them.

Cutting through vines, she lays a man bound at the waist on the ground.

As roots lift, twisted wrists are revealed in abundance. After tearing away stems, she grabs the nape of an approaching soldier and removes the vegetation densely covering his upper body.

Hard shells crack and people pour out. Fruit from street trees explodes, and Lucia avoids sharp seeds while silently wielding her mace.

Prayers for those who haven’t found peace echo through the ruins.

“Grant eternal rest to those who have departed. Let perpetual light shine upon them.”

As if in response, a heavy voice is heard from the waves of green and brown.

“Fear not, nor be sad. There is good news of paradise promised to you.”

With his back to the flowers disgorging the slum’s victims, the madman raised his staff high and said:

“The Mother’s revelation has come down through the sacred tree. I am the last prophet, the seer. The guide who shows the right path to Her.”

Waves undulate vigorously. The arm holding the staff trembles with abundant power.

The madman, tearing his mouth wide, raised both arms even higher.

“This is a generous gift from the One full of tolerance and mercy—you shall neither grieve nor fear!”

Plants rise in unison, stirring scales painted in brown, green, and other colors found in nature.

The madman strikes the ground, and the waves become a tsunami rushing through the streets.

A flash of light splits the colorful wave.

– ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ !!

A massive explosion sent fragments flying everywhere. The madman covered his face with his arm and drew in surrounding plants for defense.

Between the plants divided left and right.

Lucia’s low voice penetrated through the splitting and crumbling petals.

“Tolerance and mercy are not for someone like you to speak of.”

The saint descended upon the ruins. For her, leaping over debris taller than herself required only a couple of steps.

Frowning, she aimed her mace.

Between the iron pieces wrapped in a pure white light, white-blue eyes flew toward the madman.

“Stay right there. I’ll be with you shortly.”

Lucia said with glaring eyes. Wait with your neck washed, ready for execution.

It was what everyone wanted. Even him. For the death of an unbeliever is more valuable than any other death.

The madman welcomed her with a kind and loving smile. Wiping away the deep stream of blood Lucia had carved into his cheek, he greeted her sincerely.

“Yes, come.”

The saint moved toward the shadowy place and threw herself into the densely grown plants.

*

The street was a chaotic scene of monsters and refugees.

A plant with green wings grabs a fleeing person and throws them from the air. Blood and flesh from the fallen people seep into the street, and squirming roots devour them greedily.

People who avoided a fallen utility pole and took a side street suddenly screamed and fell. Blood flowed freely from their ankles, and rat-like creatures disguised as dense weeds gnawed at their ankles.

Some of these creatures began to eat away at the lower body of the fallen resident by slipping under their pant legs.

Some residents who belatedly joined the evacuation quickly turned toward the alley after seeing the tragedy of those ahead, and soon after, piercing screams erupted from inside.

“……”

Observing the chaotic slum, Frederick instinctively realized:

Flying low means death.

The structure of the slum was similar to the shantytown he had once seen in Mogadishu. American helicopters dispatched to arrest Somali rebel leader General Aidid were attacked and crashed there, surrounded by thousands of militiamen.

There’s no guarantee we won’t end up the same way. If a stem shoots up from below while we’re flying, we’ll fall right down.

Flying high isn’t an option either.

Even if we ascend to the maximum altitude of flight magic, winged creatures might pursue us. Even if we could fly higher than them, that would present its own problems.

There’s nothing easier to spot than a target floating in the sky. Naturally, it’s also easy to shoot down, and if shot down, we die.

That leaves only one option.

Travel across the rooftops.

“Let’s not fly in a straight line but move across the nearby building rooftops.”

Avoiding open spaces and sticking to areas with clotheslines and illegally constructed upper structures. Places that can’t be seen from above.

Moving safely while minimizing exposure to their line of sight.

“Will you be alright, Francesca?”

Frederick asked Francesca, who was preparing to fly.

The alchemist, who had somehow procured a flying carpet, tapped her cube and replied.

“Yes.”

“Let’s go now.”

And so, one flying carpet began to soar over the slum that had turned into ruins.

The carpet moved smoothly between the densely packed houses.

Under colorful laundry hanging on clotheslines, beneath roofs meant to block the hot sun. The carpet continued its flight using the maze-like objects of the slum.

The plants on the ground paid no attention to the carpet traveling from rooftop to rooftop.

Looking up, no people were visible, and there were more people below than above.

Occasionally when winged plants approached, the carpet would disappear into a wide-open window, only to emerge from the opposite window moments later.

Francesca navigated the slum with smooth and rapid speed. The floating cube rotated with clicking sounds, assisting her flight.

Though not high enough to overlook the city, it was sufficient altitude to observe distant areas.

Thus, Camilla, who was tending to her injuries, easily surveyed the conditions of the slum and Nabuktu.

The barrier was burning in the north. Black smoke rose from various places, and endless gunshots and explosions suggested intense fighting.

The western area of the slum was relatively better compared to the north. Gray smoke was rising, but not many monsters were visible. Residents who were either perceptive or lucky could be seen safely evacuating in a procession toward the west.

Unlike the outskirts where military police and refugees gathered, the inside of the slum was quiet. Literally as quiet as if a mouse had died.

It wasn’t difficult to guess why, so none of the three looked down.

In the silence, the carpet moved swiftly across buildings and rooftops, advancing rapidly toward the tree.

Contrary to their concerns, fortunately, there were few monsters near the tree.

Only a few monsters were lurking around. They could handle that easily, and now the remaining distance wasn’t far.

Francesca gazed at the tree with cold eyes. Frederick felt a warm hand rest on the back of his hand and briefly exchanged glances with Camilla. When he nodded to indicate everything was fine, she silently shifted her gaze to the tree.

Above the ruins where black smoke rose, as the carpet moved toward the tree and passed through an alley, just as a nearby building collapsed, the three people who had been silent let out screams.

A dark green pillar suddenly blocked their path.

“Die!”

A clear, angry voice was heard from a distance. The old man was furious, and his staff sang his rage.

The rising pillar approached in the blink of an eye. It seemed about to erase the carpet and the three people from existence.

As Francesca hurriedly changed direction—

A miracle occurred.

-Kugugugugung ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶!!

The dark green pillar that had been flying like a comb suddenly retreated backward. As if someone had pulled back a flying object.

Frederick quickly identified the protagonist.

“Lucia!”

As if in response, she wore a clear smile.

“Go. Leave this to me.”

Lucia, who had been smiling, grabbed the dark green pillar and pulled hard. The stem that had been advancing, breaking walls and fences, was helplessly pulled back by her strength.

Everyone was speechless at the sight of Lucia pulling the massive stem. The scene of an ant moving an object hundreds of times larger than itself was so surreal it was hard to believe.

“W-w-what is this…!”

The old man let out a low scream.

Insisting something was wrong, he raised his voice.

“T-this cannot be! How can you have such strength!”

Lucia frowned as she threw the stem aside. Thorns were embedded in her palm. The punctured skin had holes, and unstoppable blood flowed down her wrist.

Her hands weren’t the only part in tatters. Her entire body was covered in wounds.

Her neck had skin raised like keloids in various colors, and her calf had a deep laceration revealing the muscle beneath the skin.

“……”

Looking at her hand that had become like a rag, she clenched her fist. Enduring the sharp pain, she let black blood flow.

“It’s not my strength.”

In the distance, the carpet took flight. The three people who had landed on the nearest building could be seen kicking off the rooftop and advancing toward the tree.

Only then did she feel relieved. She adjusted her grip on the flanged mace. She felt a stinging pain, and blood soaked the handle thoroughly, while the yellowish sun setting in the west now illuminated her.

“No power in this world is given without reason.”

As the sunset rays flashed, her blonde hair absorbed a dazzling light.

As if melting gold, the sunset settled on the brilliant golden color.

White light began to rise around her as if God were sending down a revelation. Her calm and serene appearance was like the face of someone who had found peace. The wrinkles on his face contorted as if he had seen something terrible.

“…Damn celestial worshipper.”

The inner thoughts burning black flowed into the world in the form of language. The old man, who had coldly sneered, shuddered.

“Fine. Let’s see how much your heavenly father loves his child.”

“……”

“When I split open his child’s belly and chew on their liver, we’ll see if divine punishment falls.”

Despite her wretched appearance from successive battles, her fierce aura hadn’t diminished at all.

After waving his arm irritably toward where the three people were, the old man now raised his staff toward Lucia.

-Crack.

An ominous sound penetrated her ears. The old man looked up, and his eyes momentarily became hazy.

“T-the sacred tree’s branch…!”

The staff had already broken in two.

Half of the staff that had been torn away rolled on the dirt ground. As if forgetting to lower his raised arm, the old man stared at the broken staff, unable to continue speaking.

A strong wind brushed past. Hair swayed, and the rags covering his gaunt body fluttered roughly.

-Swoosh.

The flanged mace sliced through the air and was drawn into her grasp. After retrieving the thrown mace, Lucia lightly shook her wrist and took a stance.

Blood runs cold. A wind colder and more chilling than the frozen wind across the sea circulates through the blood vessels. Eyes filled with venom turn toward the woman, and the old man with a hardened face wrinkled his nose bridge.

“…Don’t even dream of dying peacefully.”

Knees rise. Bare feet, even without shoes, stamp the earth strongly.

The ground ripples, bulges, and plants extending from the cracks boast an explosive momentum more than ever before—

-Kwagwagagagagak ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ !!!

All at once, they sank.

“…!”

The jaw clenched on molars opens helplessly. Bulging eyes captured the saint beyond the settling sea.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling a faint sigh. As her swollen chest subsides, her white-blue eyes regain tranquility.

“Do I look stupid enough to you to be hit by the same attack?”

The mace rotates once, and the saint kicks off the ground and soars into the air. Torn leaves unfold and teeth sharp as blades devour humans.

Yellow leaves shatter like glass.

– ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ !!!

The saint, crossing her arms, broke through the man-eating plant and emerged into the world.

The airborne light emits a pure color.

“I’ve finally caught you.”

Her white-blue eyes sparkle like the sun overlooking the earth from the sky.

“Don’t run away anymore.”

The soaring comet, trailing a white tail, fell into the forest.

*

The old man who had been “scurrying away like a rat,” in Veronica’s words, finally met Lucia.

Although she was devoured by a man-eating plant, she used the plant that swallowed her as a foothold. She ultimately succeeded in closing the distance in one breath.

Thus, after countless hardships and adversities, Lucia was finally able to swing her mace toward the old man.

– Bang-! Boom-! Crash-!

The battlefield noise was transmitted through vibrations. The sound of the saint and the madman fighting could be heard even kilometers away, and its vivid ferocity made many tremble.

And naturally, the liveliness of the battlefield was being conveyed to the three people running across the buildings.

“This is no joke!”

“What’s no joke!? How can you say that now!”

“Aaaaargh!”

As Camilla, who was running across a flat roof, shouted, Frederick sternly rebuked her. Look, look, look at that. She patched up her punctured side and immediately regained her vigor.

Despite the surprise attack of the dark green pillar, they still refused to give up on advancing toward their goal.

“How much further?”

Francesca, running from behind, asked about the remaining distance. Frederick, who had climbed over a railing, estimated the distance to the target with the eye measurement he had learned at the shooting range.

“About 800 meters?”

“Shorter than I thought?”

“That’s in a straight line!”

“Ah.”

The seniors at the Intelligence Command were virtuous sages overflowing with love, affection, and devotion for their juniors. Their depth was deeper than the Mariana Trench and their breadth encompassed the five oceans. Truly, the expression “virtuous sage” is appropriate.

That love, affection, and devotion was doubled for juniors who met the standards, and multiplied several times for those who fell short. For example, when unsatisfactory results were obtained in shooting evaluations.

The kind and merciful seniors gave three chances, and juniors who seized these three chances were gifted with affection through hands and feet.

Affection was also given equally to juniors who missed their chances, but juniors who lost their mental composure needed to be sternly reprimanded. Therefore, affection was delivered not through hands and feet but through field shovels, batons, and mental induction rods.

In other words,

Frederick’s sense of distance was not an innate ability but a result of learning acquired through experience.

More precisely, it was instilled during the process of completing sniper training. Intelligence agent or not. How great could an Albo mutt’s sniping skills be?

Other peers were no exception, so the shooting range echoed with the wailing of officers whose unit affiliations were unknown, like a round song.

Therefore, the distance Frederick measured by eye was quite accurate. He reaped the full benefits of the love, affection, attention, and devotion passed down from his seniors. Of course, he probably didn’t feel an ant’s tear of gratitude, given that his buttocks had swollen from the beatings.

Anyway.

“Let’s hurry! I’m going to blow it all away with a bomb!”

Frederick shouldered a duffel bag full of explosives and ran across the roof.

He climbed over railings and leaped from edge to edge across empty space. If Jake had seen this, he might have said, “He’s going to destroy his knee cartilage at this rate.”

Frederick, who had been lifting clotheslines and moving forward with quick steps, paused.

“What’s that?”

There was a plant on the roof. A terrifyingly large plant.

Between the wide-open petals, countless teeth were revealed, and startled, he fed plenty of live ammunition into that maw with directed fire.

Gunshots spread through the slum, and plants attracted by the sound began climbing the walls. Plants boasting various colors gathered together, creating a veritable flower garden.

For a moment, thinking they were screwed, Frederick stopped pulling the trigger and shouted to Camilla and Francesca.

“Run! Not much further, hurry!”

“Watch out for what’s coming up from the alley!”

Three humans run across the roof. Countless plants follow behind.

Screaming as if in their death throes, the trio is running for their lives.

-The building is melting!

-It’s Nepenthes! If you get eaten, you’ll dissolve, so be careful not to get eaten! Also watch out for the poison flying from the petals!

-Camilla! Want to go in there and melt some fat?

-Eat shit!

-If you do it right, it’s better than liposuction, enemy at 2 o’clock!

-Aaaaargh-!

The appearance of the three people desperately fleeing was quite extraordinary. Scraped and scratched wounds were just the beginning.

Francesca with skin showing clear signs of having been poisoned by toxic plants and then recovered, Camilla with attire revealing her side that might provoke the anger of Al-Yabd believers, Frederick running without realizing his knee cartilage was screaming “Fuck! Stop and kill me!”

In addition, various other large and small injuries were each showing their individuality.

-Whoosh.

-Rustle.

As fire arrows were shot, plants caught fire. Blue threads danced and petals fell. Beyond the flashing muzzle, branches burst in succession.

Alchemical weapons flowing from broken vials dissolved stems. Some froze, some withered, and some decayed.

While diligently controlling the flames, Camilla’s eyes suddenly widened.

“Monster! It’s a monster, a monster!”

“Hey, we have eyes too, you know? Monsters are all over the place, what’s the big deal!”

“No! A quadrupedal monster has appeared!”

“What?!”

At the news of a different monster’s appearance, the two people who had been repeatedly shooting and slashing turned their heads.

“…People?”

As Camilla said, it was a monster crawling on all fours. With a human-like appearance wrapped in stems and petals, the monsters crawled on the ground.

It was real.

Frederick, unable to hide his astonishment, muttered.

“Even summons are appearing, shit…”

“A-aren’t those people?”

“Seems like it…”

I’m not sure. There’s no other way to describe it except as plant-humans. Moreover, there was a direct witness.

Just like the dead police officer, victims devoured by plants turned into monsters. They were reborn wearing natural objects on their bodies like statues you might see in a garden.

Surveying the streets, Francesca bluntly described the grotesque scene of plants spitting out people. She said only those who had turned into monsters existed there.

Monsters being constantly replenished.

If it becomes a war of attrition, defeat is inevitable.

While pushing with firepower might give a temporary advantage, eventually magic will be depleted, and when overwhelmed by the sheer numbers, only death awaits.

Therefore.

“We need to make this a speed battle.”

If they’re replenishing monsters, we can call for support too.

Click, click.

Gears turn. A vortex forms around a core containing high-quality magic, and surrounding objects are drawn in.

Using the massive body as a focal point, a skeleton forms, and fragments of nature form arms and legs.

-…Woong-

The summoned golem opened its eyes at its master’s call.

The golem, advancing in the direction indicated by the finger, began pushing away everything blocking its master’s path.

Crushing and smashing. The golem advanced, and the core repaired damaged parts.

“Let’s go.”

The distance between the tree and the three people narrows. The remaining distance is just about 400 meters.

“Kuh…!”

The old man defending against the mace flying toward his head also noticed this. With a spasmodic head movement to locate the three people, he screamed.

“No!”

“Yes, you bastard!”

As Frederick, who was lifting the duffel bag onto the opposite roof, presented a vulgar curse, the old man’s face turned as red as a carrot.

You think I’ll let you!

“Fall into hell, unbelievers!”

“Where are you looking?”

At the voice that suddenly penetrated his angry shout, the old man hurriedly twisted his waist. The mace, covered in all sorts of bodily fluids and fragments, brushed his scalp by a paper-thin margin.

Lucia, who quickly changed her posture by turning the handle, unleashed a barrage of attacks.

These were lethal attacks that would make the skin tingle even with just a graze. Direct hits would dismember limbs.

However, both she and the old man knew the power of the mace. Given the old man’s concentration and defense were extraordinary, she needed to remove obstacles first.

She grabbed his wrist, twisted his elbow, kicked the back of his knee, and pushed his chest.

Lucia pretended to attack with the hand holding the mace while using her other hand for techniques. The old man, momentarily confused, blocked even that easily, but a gap formed in his divided concentration.

Looking into his wrinkled eyes, Lucia seized the opportunity and struck his chest with the base of her palm. With a pain as if his chest was collapsing, his waist folded in half.

“Kuhek…!”

Lucia threw her mace toward the flying old man. However, as if nature would not stand by and watch his death, it gently embraced and protected the old man.

Tsk.

Lucia briefly clicked her tongue, retrieved her mace, and began to assess the situation.

Both sides were in poor physical condition. But in detail, she was at a disadvantage.

Just as the old man had more to worry about than just the mace, she too had many concerns: the overwhelming numbers, energy distribution, missing clergy, and so on.

If the situation continued one-on-one, Lucia would ultimately be at a disadvantage.

That is, assuming it remained one-on-one.

“It’s right in front of us!”

Camilla, who had been jumping across rooftops, shouted without realizing she had tripped over a clothesline.

Because the tree was right before their eyes.

Of course, they still had to cross a few more roofs, but this was close enough.

“Francesca, use the cube!”

Until now, they had worried about magic depletion. But that was over now.

Responding to Camilla’s urgent request, she complied.

Blue magic flows through the patterns engraved on each piece, and they begin to solve themselves like a puzzle.

The alchemist, having activated the archmage’s magical tool, spread out a flying carpet beside it.

“Get on.”

“Okay!”

-Kurrrrrrrr…!

“Uh, uhh?”

Camilla, who had proudly boarded the carpet, made a dumbfounded sound, and Frederick was aghast.

“What are those vines now.”

The terrifyingly large tree was surrounded by terrifyingly long vines. And there were an absurdly large number of them. Damn.

As he calculated the angle to enter while blowing away the vines with explosives, he gritted his teeth.

The explosives are insufficient. They’re enough to bring down one tree but not the vines too.

-Rustle-!

A blue slash cut down a group, but the vines squirmed and grew back. Francesca used all available means to widen the gaps and slow the recovery, but it was all in vain.

“Just go! Whether we die crushed by vines or with plants in our bellies, it’s all the same!”

“Get on! Even if we go now, we might be too late!”

“……”

“…Hero?”

Francesca looked at Camilla. However, Camilla’s gaze was fixed elsewhere.

As if measuring the distance to the tree, she silently stared at it, feeling the magic contained in the air as the wind brushed her skin.

She lowers her center and takes a stance.

Blue eyes disappear between eyelashes.

As if the spirit is leaving the body, the mind floats up.

The familiar scenery of the fortress appeared before her.