"Take him away."

The festival was over.

What remained were the tasks of cleaning up the battlefield and assigning responsibility for the sacrifices made.

Behemoth’s neck had been cleanly severed by Maxim’s final blow. Its revenge, poised to overwhelm the kingdom, was thwarted at the final moment. The instant Behemoth’s head hit the ground, the chains of light binding it vanished, and the massive body crumbled.

It was as if a new mountain had formed in the gorge. The soldiers began their work, cleaning up the ruins of the battlefield without even pausing to absorb the aftermath.

"It feels like a dream." "I’m not sure I even know what just happened."

Who died? How did it all unfold?

The soldiers didn’t want to dwell on the deaths around them. The bodies scattered on the ground bore familiar faces, but the soldiers refused to acknowledge them.

"Look at that..."

As the sunlight began to fade, casting long shadows across the gorge, Behemoth’s corpse loomed large, creating a dark shadow. Beneath that shadow lay an unidentified knight with brown hair.

"He had the Black Crow Knights’ insignia." "And he was speaking with Commander Teodora... Who is he?"

Two figures approached the fallen knight.

"Maxim..."

Paola furrowed his brow as he looked at the unconscious Maxim. The knight had vomited black blood and appeared as if death had already claimed him. Medics hurried over to check his condition, though most looked bewildered. It seemed Maxim was still alive, though just barely. If left unattended, he would surely die.

"What the hell happened to him?"

Paola himself was exhausted. He hadn’t fought Behemoth directly but had relentlessly battled the hordes of monsters that poured in from beneath. His bones ached, and his muscles felt like they were tearing. With a sigh, Paola shot a look at the person standing beside him.

"...So, you finally brought down Behemoth."

Roberto Miller.

It was clear he had been fighting on the frontlines, but what exactly he had been doing was unclear. Unlike the weary and spent Paola, Roberto looked strangely composed.

"I’ll take Maxim back. You should rest too, Paola. You look like you’ve had enough."

Roberto sauntered away as he spoke. Paola, frowning, watched Roberto’s nonchalant movements with skepticism. He hadn’t changed a bit. Perhaps it was Paola’s heightened senses, still on edge after the battle, that made him so irritable.

Muttering to himself, Paola turned away.

"...Fine. Take him back."

Roberto watched Paola retreat, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Now then..."

Roberto turned his gaze back to Maxim. The medics were frantically checking his pulse and breathing, but Roberto didn’t need any such procedures to know that Maxim was still alive.

"Bring a stretcher!" "Prepare to transport him to the infirmary!"

Narrowing his eyes, Roberto looked down at Maxim. He hadn’t expected things to turn out this way. The aura Maxim had unleashed was much stronger than anticipated.

"So, you burned yourself out, huh?"

Roberto muttered to himself as if speaking to Maxim. His tone carried a mixture of awe and sarcasm.

"Ready! On three, lift him up."

The medics brought over a stretcher. Maxim’s limp body was lifted and placed onto it. Roberto approached with a smile, addressing the soldiers.

"Good work, men."

The soldiers looked quizzically at the unfamiliar knight. After noticing Roberto's insignia, which matched Maxim’s, they cleared the way.

"Can you help me carry him somewhere I have in mind?"

The soldiers didn’t question it. They followed Roberto, carrying Maxim on the stretcher as they moved forward.

The battlefield was chaotic, filled with soldiers transporting the wounded and collecting the dead. Soldiers passed by, carrying stretchers draped in sheets. The bodies of the monsters, already beginning to decompose in the sun, filled the air with the stench of rot.

Roberto led the group to a waiting area where horses and wagons were prepared to transport the wounded and dignitaries to the rear. He lowered the ladder on a supply wagon and gestured for them to load Maxim inside. The soldiers hesitated for a moment before placing Maxim in the wagon.

"Is this really the right place?" one of the soldiers asked cautiously.

Roberto nodded. Another medic, still skeptical, cautiously approached Roberto.

"Shouldn’t we be taking him to the infirmary first?"

Roberto silently stared at the questioning soldier. The man opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it when Roberto’s cold gaze fell upon him.

"...Sorry for overstepping," the medic mumbled, backing away.

"No need to apologize," Roberto said, his voice calm. "Maxim isn’t in a condition we can treat here. It’s better to transport him quickly to the rear."

The soldiers nodded in understanding, though one of them raised another concern.

"What about Commander Teodora?"

Before he could say more, another soldier elbowed him in the ribs, silently urging him to stop.

"She’s already been taken away, you idiot. Why are you still asking?"

"I was just..."

Roberto waved his hand dismissively, signaling them to disperse.

"Good work. Now go help the other wounded."

Though they looked uneasy, the soldiers complied, leaving the empty stretcher behind. Roberto chuckled under his breath.

"...It’s better for you not to know."

The wagon driver, wearing a hood, glanced at Roberto as if checking that his passenger had arrived.

"You’re fast."

"The longer we stay, the harder it is to escape."

Roberto scanned the area before climbing into the wagon. The interior was spacious, designed to carry more than just two people. Roberto tapped the grate that connected to the driver’s seat.

The wagon rumbled and began its journey toward Myura.

 

With the sound of shattering glass, the chains of light dissolved into nothing.

The golden aura flickered as Behemoth’s head fell. The mages, exhausted from maintaining the spell, collapsed in unison, cheering in relief.

"We did it..." "Who was that? There weren’t any knights left to fight just moments ago."

The mages began to speculate about who had wielded that powerful aura. In the midst of the chaos, Christine stared at the spot where Behemoth’s head had fallen, her green eyes trembling.

"Senior..."

She had spent almost all of her recovered mana, yet she couldn’t remain still.

"Why..."

She repeated the question to herself over and over. That golden light, seen only once but unforgettable—the light that had shimmered as it cut down the Deathworm at the edge of a cliff. Even from this distance, Christine recognized the aura’s glow.

"I warned you, didn’t I?"

A cold voice broke her trance. It carried a tone that suggested everything had gone exactly as expected. Christine ignored it, standing up abruptly as the professor chuckled behind her.

"You’d better run, Christine."

She didn’t hear his words. Christine had already left the group of mages and was descending the gorge.

Senior.

Thanks to Maxim, Behemoth was dead. Without him, Behemoth would have wiped out every knight and soldier here and reduced Myura to ruins.

But even so...

Even if it had been his sacrifice that saved them all...

Christine bit her lip.

Maxim was probably lying somewhere, collapsed after defeating Behemoth. If she didn’t reach him soon...

"Vice-commander!"

Christine was snapped back to reality by a shout. Paola was gripping her wrist.

"...Sir Paola? Let go of me! I need to—"

Paola saw the frantic look in Christine’s eyes and sighed inwardly. Would she listen? He held her back as she tried to run forward.

"Wait. Just wait. Calm down. Roberto is bringing Maxim back. There’s no need to worry so much."

Christine stopped struggling and stared at Paola, her hair disheveled, her face wild with desperation.

"...What are you saying?"

Paola released her arm as she finally seemed to calm down.

"Exactly what I said. Roberto is with Maxim, and he should be transporting him with the medics right now—"

"Where is Roberto?!" Christine’s voice grew more urgent.

"He...hasn’t returned yet..."

Paola’s expression hardened. Roberto had insisted on taking Maxim himself, but Christine’s urgency now cast a shadow of doubt over the situation. Lowering his voice, Paola asked,

"What’s going on, Vice-commander?"

"We need to find Senior... We have no time to explain, I’m sorry," Christine responded quickly.

Paola nodded and turned toward the infirmary.

"I’ll search the medical tents."

Christine, wasting no time, headed toward the transport area.

The loading zone was a mess of wagons, carrying the wounded and the dead. Christine, frantically scanning the area, searched for the wagon carrying Maxim.

"Ma’am, can I help you?"

Christine turned to face a medic who had approached her.

"Has anyone from the Black Crow Knights been through here?"

The medic, recognizing Christine’s uniform and her urgency, slowly nodded.

"...Yes, they were here."

"Where are they now?!"

Christine practically shouted. The medic pointed to a spot where the transport wagon had been stationed earlier.

"...A knight wearing the same insignia loaded a wounded man onto a wagon. He said it was best to send him to the rear quickly because of his condition..."

"When did they leave?"

The medic hesitated before replying.

"About thirty minutes ago. They should be just outside Myura by now."

Christine clenched her fists. She mounted a horse nearby, cutting the reins as the medic watched in stunned silence.

"Wait, where are you going?!"

But Christine was already off, leaving a cloud of dust in her wake.

 

The mountainous landscape, once dominated by towering pines, had given way to shorter grass and scattered deciduous trees. The war raging in the distance was unknown to the animals grazing peacefully in the fields. Along a dirt road, a wagon traveled at a steady pace, leaving deep tracks in the soft earth.

The terrain was sloping downward. The road, once a single path, had branched off into several directions, but the one wide enough for a transport wagon hugged the cliffside. Roberto tapped the grate to speak with the driver.

"What’s the situation in the capital? Has the count arrived?"

Roberto asked. The driver glanced back at him.

"Last I heard, everything was proceeding as planned. The Bening family’s soldiers have replaced the royal guard, and the mages from the tower are cooperating."

"...Good."

Roberto muttered to himself. The days of following the count’s orders like a puppet were coming to an end.

"And the second prince?"

"There will be an official announcement of his succession soon. Given the visible strength of our house, it will be hard for anyone to oppose it."

However, one concern lingered in the back of Roberto’s mind—the royal guard. His expression darkened.

"...What about the royal guard?"

"No news yet, but it seems the count and Baron Borden have something planned."

The wagon jolted violently, snapping Roberto out of his thoughts.

"What was that?"

"Probably a rock under the wheel. Nothing to worry about."

Another jolt.

This time, the driver stopped the wagon, sensing something wrong. If the horses panicked here, they could fall into the lake below the cliff.

"What the—?"

As soon as the wagon slowed, magic flared to life.

"Dammit!"

Chains of light wrapped around the wagon, bringing the horses to a halt.

Ahead of them, a mage descended. Roberto stepped out of the wagon, wearing the same calm expression as always, though his smile was now cold.

"...What brings you here, Vice-commander?"

Christine remained silent, holding the spell in place with her magic as her eyes bore into Roberto.

"...I didn’t want to fight again."

Roberto chuckled, drawing his sword and dropping the pretense of innocence, his grin turning into a cold sneer.

"We’re both short on time, so let’s end this quickly."

 

The darkness was seeping into his vision.

Maxim felt as though he were floating in a void rather than sinking into the depths of the sea. His memories were fractured, scattered like the wreckage of a ship, pieces drifting aimlessly.

He couldn’t get up.

It felt like his entire body was bound in chains. He glanced around, his vision clouded. It was dark, as if he were lying inside a tent.

But the real problem was his memory.

He felt hollow. His memories were being eaten away, vanishing bit by bit, like ink dissolving in water.

"No..."

Maxim struggled to his feet.

I’m Maxim Apart.

At least, he remembered his name.

A cursed knight. The Black Crow Knights. Behemoth, the monster of the wastelands, needed to be defeated...

Behemoth—yes, he had killed it.

Bound by chains, Behemoth had fallen to his aura.

Cough.

Maxim spat out a mouthful of blood, swaying as he stood. He had killed Behemoth, so why was he here?

The ground trembled as if an earthquake had struck. Maxim, at last, got a clear view of his surroundings.

"What’s going on?"

Maxim stepped out of the wagon. The tremors intensified.

"A duel?"

He recognized the energy.

A sense of foreboding crept over him as he moved toward the front of the wagon.

"You didn’t seriously think that was my full power, did you, Vice-commander?"

A voice reached his ears.

"To believe that and challenge me in this state—it’s an embarrassingly poor decision. You’ve spent nearly all your mana, and the little you have left is being used to hold the wagon in place. Even in a life-or-death battle, you end up like this."

The voice was familiar. Roberto. Maxim barely managed to recall his name.

"Roberto?"

Maxim’s voice was hoarse.

"The count placed great value on your life, but isn’t this a bit greedy?"

Before Maxim could even process the words, a chilling metallic sound echoed deep into his mind.

A stab.

Thud.

Maxim turned his head.

Roberto was reaching out.

A sword.

A sword, devoid of aura, pierced through someone’s chest.

Thud.

Christine’s body fell, drifting like a leaf in the autumn breeze. Maxim stumbled forward.

Thud.

Christine’s small body collapsed into his arms.

She was so light.

Blood was pouring from the wound in her chest. Maxim fumbled, trying to stop the bleeding. Roberto stood silently, watching the scene unfold.

"Sen...ior..."

"Don’t speak."

But the memories were slipping away, mercilessly erased. All Maxim could do was cling to the hope that the woman in his arms wouldn’t fade from his memory.

Her blood was warm.

The green eyes staring up at him were slowly dimming. Maxim kept speaking to her, trying to keep her conscious.

"Don’t talk—just listen, okay? We need to go back. You... You have to go back to the people waiting for you in the capital..."

"Your curse..."

Christine ignored Maxim’s words, muttering weakly.

"I don’t want to hear it. Just stay quiet and stay awake."

"I...taught them how to...implant the curse...in a potion."

What was she saying? What did it matter now? Maxim bit his lip and asked,

"So what? What does that matter? What am I supposed to do with that? Are you saying I should just let you die? Stop it, Christine. If you’re going to apologize, do it after your wound heals. Don’t leave me with nothing but words!"

Christine’s hand gently touched Maxim’s face.

"Don’t...cry..."

Maxim clenched his teeth. Tears, completely beyond his control, streamed down his face.

"To be honest, Senior... At first, I followed you because I felt guilty, but now..."

Christine’s thumb gently brushed his cheek.

"I just like being near you... I just like being with you..."

"I told you to stop talking."

Light began to gather in Christine’s hand.

"What are you doing?"

Her lips curved into a small smile.

"A small...atonement."

The same brilliant light as her hair gathered at her fingertips. Maxim, battling against the ever-fading memories, held onto Christine’s hand with all his strength.

"Senior..."

"Don’t. Don’t do this."

The light seeped into his chest. Maxim tried to push her hand away, but despite his efforts, Christine continued to send that light into him. Realizing he couldn’t stop her, he held her hand tightly. Christine’s green eyes widened at the warmth of his grip.

Then, a radiant smile spread across her face.

"I love you."

Christine.

Christine.

Her hand went limp.

The pale, delicate hand fell lifelessly to the ground.

Christine.

Chris...

Whose name am I calling right now?

 

Roberto stared down at Maxim, who sat frozen, holding Christine’s lifeless body.

"...Impressive."

Even after such exertion and being consumed by the curse, he was still able to retain his sanity. Roberto then glanced at Christine’s fallen form.

"...In the end, a pointless act."

His voice was bitter.

But he soon regained his composure and approached Maxim. The curse had taken full hold of him now—he was nothing more than a puppet, barely alive.

"Help me move this one," Roberto called to the wagon driver, who nodded, trembling in fear. Slowly, they approached Maxim, reaching out to lift him.

"Damn, the armor makes him heavy—"

Thud.

What?

Roberto turned to look.

The driver’s head had twisted in an unnatural direction, his body crumpling to the ground.

"...You’ve got to be kidding me."

Before him stood Maxim, eyes glowing with golden fury. Roberto glanced down at his own chest, seeing the gaping wound.

"Max...im...you..."

Drip.

Rain began to fall.

Maxim twisted his wrist, snapping the lifeline Roberto had clung to.

Thud.

Roberto’s body slumped to the ground. His fall was followed by a seemingly endless descent into the ravine below.

Maxim dropped his sword. It landed with a dull thud in the mud. He slowly approached Christine, lifting her into his arms. He tried to stand, but his legs gave out, and he collapsed.

Splash.

Mud splattered onto his armor. Maxim pushed himself up again.

"...Come on."

Maxim muttered. Pain surged through him. The curse, now fully manifest, had ravaged his body.

But he stood.

Christine’s cooling body was cradled in his arms. Maxim exhaled. Don’t stop now, Maxim Apart.

He forced himself forward.

"I won’t lose her."

You’ve already lost so much.

Maxim muttered to himself. The last bit of light Christine had left behind—likely tied to her final breath—helped him cling to the remaining fragments of his memory.

He took another step. The mud squelched underfoot, making an unpleasant sound.

At this moment, the curse didn’t matter.

The desire not to lose her pushed him forward.

The rain continued to fall, soaking the earth. But Maxim didn’t care.

Just a little further.

Step.

Maxim moved forward.

Step by step.

And so, the knight continued westward.