"Thank you for the support."

The commander on the wall said this to Paola, who shook her head and gestured toward Christine, who was gazing down from the edge of the wall.

"If you’re going to express gratitude, direct it to our vice-captain over there. The captain seems to be talking with the Margrave at the moment."

The commander, looking flustered, glanced at Christine, then turned back to Paola.

"I thought you were the vice-captain."

Surprised that she wasn't the captain, the commander added.

"Come on, you fought with me, so you should know I'm not the type for that."

Paola waved her hand dismissively. The commander, now a bit embarrassed, approached Christine and greeted her.

"Thank you for your support, Vice-Captain."

Christine took the hand he offered and shook it, not showing any sign of displeasure. She seemed distracted, her mind elsewhere.

"It's thanks to the royal support. His Majesty has also recognized the efforts here in the no-man's land."

The commander sighed as he looked out over the wall.

"...We need to live up to the royal expectations, but things aren’t looking good."

Even now, the occasional sounds of monsters dying echoed from below the wall. The bodies of the slain creatures were piled high, forming a sea of corpses across the wasteland. The commander turned his gaze back to the knights.

"First, we’ll fill the areas lacking soldiers with reinforcements and then place them on standby. Vice-Captain, you're a mage, correct?"

Christine nodded.

"Then please join the mages stationed below the wall. We’ll hold the line up here."

After taking command, the new commander quickly organized the soldiers. The drafted soldiers, well-trained as they were from the royal capital, responded quickly to his orders, rushing to various positions.

"As for the knights... it would be better if you patrolled the walls freely and reinforced any weak spots. I can’t possibly manage or command each knight individually."

Christine nodded, indicating her understanding. She then passed on orders to the squad members waiting for her, now speaking with the authority of a proper vice-captain.

"Alright... the Raven Knights will act independently. I trust each of you, as renowned knights, to cover any weaknesses."

There was no need for a lengthy response. Following Christine's words, the Raven Knights scattered across the wall. Maxime was one of them. However, as he was about to dash toward the western wall, Christine called out, stopping him.

"Wait... Senior...!"

Maxime halted his steps and turned to look at Christine.

He truly seemed unbothered.

His body had probably already been ravaged by the curse. The pain must have consumed his body and mind by now. Yet here he was, calmly donning his armor, strapping on his sword, and preparing to charge into battle against the monsters. He knew full well that if he crossed a certain line, there would only be darkness waiting for him beyond it.

"What is it?"

Christine looked into Maxime's eyes. They were hollow. It was an expression he had never shown before.

"Please... always stay with Sir Paola."

Maxime chuckled at her words and replied playfully.

"Don’t trust me, huh?"

But Christine's expression only grew more resolute in response to his jest. It was as if Maxime had spoken exactly what she wanted to say.

"Yes. Exactly. How could I trust you to handle an entire section on your own in your current state?"

Maxime, at a loss for words, closed his mouth. Paola, who had been silently watching, tried to soothe Christine.

"Vice-Captain... even if Maxime has been less than stellar in the knights' ranks—"

"I won’t retract my words, Sir Paola. Maxime is not suited to defending this fortress right now. He’d only be a burden, even if he were with you."

As Christine spoke, she recalled her conversation with the professor at the tower.

"I’m giving you a chance."

"What do you mean by a chance, Professor? You came out of nowhere with an offer, and now you’re talking about giving me a chance? I’ve already told you, I have no intention of returning to the tower..."

The professor clicked his tongue and adjusted his glasses.

"It’s a proposal to work under Count Benning."

Christine scoffed.

"How is that any different from returning to the tower?"

"It’s very different."

The professor sighed deeply.

"Count Benning values your talents greatly. Though he doesn’t show it openly, he’s an ambitious man."

Christine stood from her seat.

"Has it been so long that your memory’s gotten foggy, Professor?"

The professor shook his head.

"Even knowing that it’s Count Benning who holds Maxime Apart’s leash, you still say that?"

The professor continued, his voice sharp.

"The true nature of that curse..."

"It’s not meant to take his life, is it? It’s to cause a physical and mental collapse, turning him into a puppet."

Christine interrupted him.

"...You’ve figured it out."

"I only realized it recently. I should’ve expected that you would stoop to such vile tactics."

Christine condemned the tower, which had practically fallen under Benning's influence.

"So, if you know that, you must also understand that he’ll either fall under Benning’s control or disappear from the stage entirely."

Christine’s tone remained sharp and unmoved.

"You’ve only given me more reason to never work with you."

"How can you be sure? He won’t survive."

Christine’s gaze remained resolute, her determination unwavering.

"I’ll protect him."

"You’re arrogant."

The professor looked at her with the condescending gaze of an older person regarding youthful arrogance. He sneered, but Christine’s eyes never faltered. Inside, the professor was unsettled by her unwavering stance.

"I see."

"How unfortunate."

Realizing that her resolve would not change, the professor clicked his tongue in frustration. He shook his head and asked again.

"Is there really no changing your mind?"

Christine smiled faintly and nodded.

"No. Even if you were to offer a cure, I wouldn’t change my mind."

"And if I threatened your life right here?"

Christine scoffed, mocking the professor.

"Professor, you should really get your memory checked by a doctor."

The professor slammed his cane down in frustration, and blue mana flared up around him. He had instantly prepared a spell.

"You’ve always been too confident, even when you were my student."

A magic circle formed beneath the professor’s feet.

"I’ll shut that mouth of yours."

Christine sighed. The vast mana within her stirred, vibrating through the house. Her assistant flinched, cowed by the overwhelming aura emanating from Christine.

Christine’s mana overshadowed the professor’s. A researcher could never hope to defeat a knight who had spent their life on the battlefield.

"If you can, go ahead."

Christine’s cold voice cut through the air as she addressed the professor sitting in his chair.

"I’ve been wanting to do the same."

The professor fell silent as the oppressive force of Christine’s mana intensified.

What will you do?

Christine’s gaze asked the unspoken question. The professor clenched his teeth and rose from his seat.

"You’ll regret this."

Regret?

Christine nearly laughed. Her expression hardened with renewed resolve as she faced the professor. Pointing toward the door, she spoke in a voice colder than ice.

"I’ll tell you one thing."

Christine’s eyes glinted with an unyielding determination, glowing with a mature, refined light.

"I’ve already regretted enough, long ago."

So now, I won’t let anyone else be hurt because of me.

Christine’s eyes were locked on Maxime.

"Senior, please support Sir Paola during this expedition."

Maxime looked at Christine with a conflicted expression.

Don’t look at me like that. Not with eyes filled with concern for someone who is hurting you with such harsh words.

Maxime slowly nodded.

"...Alright. I’ll do as you say, Christine."

As Maxime turned toward Paola, a bell rang out.

From the highest point of the fortress, the sound of the bell echoed, sinking deep into the hearts of all who heard it.

Deng, deng, deng, deng.

Christine’s pupils widened before narrowing sharply.

"Battle stations!"

"Battle stations!!"

The soldiers scrambled, rushing to their positions. The clanging of weapons echoed all around.

"Senior."

Christine spoke as she moved. Maxime looked at her face, now more resolute than ever.

"Be careful."

Maxime nodded reflexively. Christine smiled softly at him before moving on.

Deng, deng, deng, deng.

The guard rang the bell, as if heralding the end of the world. With each toll of the bell, hundreds of soldiers ran. Their faces were pale, like drained pork.

The soldiers weren’t driven by hatred for the monsters. No, it was the fear—the fear that the wall might fall at any moment, that those bloodstained creatures might soon sink their teeth into their throats. It was this terror that consumed the soldiers' minds. Few remained who had lived through the events of fifteen years ago.

The monsters were coming.

The battles in the no-man’s land had always been fierce, but at least the monsters that climbed the cliffs seemed to act with some survival instinct, trying to escape the no-man’s land.

But the creatures now... moved like mindless wooden dolls. They neither thought nor understood what they were doing, simply throwing themselves against the wall and clawing their way up. It was terrifying. These monsters, having lost all reason, trampled over the bodies of their fallen kin, pouring over the wall in numbers beyond counting.

You cannot stop a tidal wave with your bare hands.

The horde that swarmed toward the fortress was more like a storm surge than a tide. Like water being poured from a leather pouch, the mass of monster bodies surged toward the walls, crashing against the stone, trampling, killing, and tearing each other apart in their frenzied advance.

Their flesh was being shredded. The monsters didn’t care about their own lives; they just kept hurling their bodies at the wall. The soldiers stared down at the writhing mass of creatures, their faces as pale as death. Crossbows and ballistae were loaded. The sound of cranks turning echoed from atop the wall.

Dr-r-r, dr-r-r.

The ballista strings were drawn taut, and the bolts were ready to pierce the foreheads of the monsters at any moment. One soldier, unable to bear the tension, pulled the trigger of his crossbow.

Thwack!

The bolt whistled through the air, piercing one of the eight eyes of an arachne. Its clear blood and pus sprayed through the air as it thrashed, only to be trampled by other monsters. The commander overseeing the wall’s defense shouted.

"Don’t fire!! Are you out of your mind?! Do you want to waste arrows, giving those monsters a meat shield?!"

The commander grabbed the soldier by the neck and yanked him from his position. The soldier dropped his crossbow and landed hard on the ground. The commander kicked the trembling soldier and barked his orders.

"Take this fool below the wall and replace him with another soldier."

"Understood."

At the commander’s harsh rebuke, the soldiers recoiled and fell silent.

"Bring the cauldrons of oil! Get ready to pour it over the wall!"

At the commander’s shout, the soldiers scrambled. Soon, with grunts and groans, they brought out the large cauldrons of boiling oil.

"Hold... Hold!"

The commander shouted as the soldiers steadied the cauldrons.

"Wait until they start climbing the wall!!"

Thud.

The very ground seemed to tremble with the sheer force of the monsters. They didn’t appear to be running; rather, it was as if a single entity of monstrous bodies had collided with the wall. The sound of stone grinding under pressure was audible. The commander gripped the hilt of his sword, waiting for the right moment.

A monster’s foot latched onto the wall. Slowly, the creatures began to climb, their claws scraping against the stone. They clambered over their fallen kin, scaling the wall.

"They’re coming, they’re coming. Knights, draw your swords...!"

The commander’s tense voice rang out across the battlefield. The knights lowered their visors and drew their swords in unison. Maxime, peering through the slits of his visor, watched the horde of monsters swarming up the wall. The creatures, like rotting logs, were climbing, only to be knocked down by the boulders dropped by the soldiers.

"Damn it, it’s just like before."

Paola muttered, a mace in her hand instead of a sword. Maxime turned his head to look at her.

"Feeling nostalgic?"

"Maybe. Though, I think it was a bit more intense back then."

Maxime chuckled at Paola’s dry humor.

The monsters’ ascent was accelerating. One, having caught sight of a human head, darted forward with glinting eyes.

"Shoot!!"

The archers loosed their arrows in unison, and the sky darkened with the rain of bolts that impaled the monsters through their heads and torsos. The creatures, however, did not scream. They merely tumbled off the wall, only to be replaced by more of their kind.

"Oil-!"

At the commander’s shout, the soldiers tipped the cauldrons, pouring the boiling oil down the wall.

"More! Don’t let the cauldrons run dry!"

Five clawed toes gripped the top of the wall. The claws dug into the stone, causing it to creak and crumble. Someone drew a sharp breath.

"Prepare for battle-!"

The commander shouted, and a monster crested the wall. Maxime gripped his sword with both hands, inhaling and exhaling slowly. The scent of blood and iron filled his visor.

"Be careful."

Christine’s words echoed in Maxime’s mind.

I’ll try, Christine.

Amid the fogginess in his head and the searing pain in his chest, Maxime faced the creature crawling up the wall. It reeked of rot and let out a deafening roar.

His sword, devoid of mana, rose high into the sky. Bathed in the glow of the setting sun, the blade gleamed red as Maxime’s strike fell upon the monster’s neck.