Damn it, damn it, damn it.

During that short fall, Maxime repeated the words dozens of times. He had no idea whether this plunge would be his escape from danger or if he’d just thrown himself into a bottomless pit. All he could hope was that it wasn’t the latter.

At the end of the weightless descent, his feet touched solid ground. Quickly, he kicked the mage’s unconscious body into the shadows and pulled Adeline along, concealing themselves in the darkness. Just as they hid, the door above them creaked open.

“Go back for now. I’ll handle this myself,” said a voice.

“But, if you need help….”

“This area is practically my private workshop. You’ve been around the Tower long enough to know what it means to step into someone else’s space.”

“Professor, but….”

The mage clicked his tongue in annoyance. There was silence, followed by the drowsy, unfocused response of the assistant.

“Yes… I’ll return to my duties….”

Soon, the assistant’s footsteps faded away, as if the mage had used some spell to drive him off. As the footsteps disappeared, the door closed. Another voice called out.

“Professor Luke? Is everything alright?”

Maxime held his breath. He wrapped an arm around the still-shaking Adeline, covering her mouth to stifle any noise. After a tense pause, the voice spoke again.

“Professor? What’s going on? Why did he drag me here, saying he heard something?”

The presence lingered by the dungeon entrance. Maxime tensed, focusing on the intruder. The mage paced but seemed hesitant to enter the dungeon.

“I can’t just barge into the professor’s private dungeon… If I did that again, I’d probably face more than just a scolding.”

The mage grumbled, then stopped abruptly.

“That old man… He’s so forgetful he can’t even remember to secure the entrance. I told him when he was researching dark magic to keep the door shut.”

There was a clattering sound, like a lock being undone or a barrier removed, followed by the scrape of metal on stone.

“Dammit. If this noise escapes, it’s no wonder the assistant came looking for me. With the investigation team sent by the royal family and Benning’s people, we’re already up to our necks. Doesn’t he realize we’ll be in deep trouble if this gets discovered?”

With one last curse, the sound of a heavy metal lock creaking shut echoed. Maxime looked up, horrified, as the light above them gradually faded. The dungeon’s entrance was closing. Frozen, Maxime could only watch as the light disappeared, swallowed by darkness.

Thud.

The heavy door sealed shut, and darkness consumed everything. With his sight cut off, his other senses flared. His heartbeat thundered, and even his shallow breaths seemed unbearably loud. Maxime focused on his breathing, struggling to stay calm.

“…Damn it.”

He could feel the dungeon’s oppressive energy clinging to him like a thick fog. His heart raced, and an old wound began to ache. It was a familiar pain, one that told him he was surrounded by curses and dark magic.

Maxime steadied himself. Past traumas wouldn’t control him now. He calmed his breathing, taking one last deep breath before extending his senses to check if the mage was still nearby. Satisfied that the mage was gone, he cautiously relaxed.

“He’s gone.”

Now what?

Maxime scanned the area. The mage showed no sign of waking anytime soon. From the depth of his breathing, it seemed he’d stay unconscious for hours. To Maxime’s surprise, faint light glimmered at the end of the dungeon corridor.

“Well, that’s convenient,” he muttered, looking back at the mage. Since he was down here, he might as well explore the hidden dungeon as much as he could before morning.

“…Adeline. Wake up.”

He turned to the trembling figure clinging to him. Adeline gripped his collar, shaking uncontrollably. He gently tapped her cheek and called her name, but she only clutched him tighter, showing no sign of coming around. With a sigh, Maxime helped her to her feet, supporting her as he began to walk.

Maxime checked the mage’s robe for a key, but found nothing. The door must have been sealed by magic. With no other option, he scanned the room for another exit. A faint draft stirred the stale air, flowing from somewhere deeper inside the dungeon.

“If there’s airflow, there might be another way out.”

Maxime squinted at the distant light at the corridor’s end. Even if it was a dead end, it was worth investigating. He could perhaps find a clue leading to Christine. His heartbeat slowed as he focused on the task, his mind clearing. He would place the mage near the entrance, where they might assume he slipped and fell.

The real issue was the knight clinging to him like a lifeline. Maxime glanced down at Adeline, who still clutched his coat. He couldn’t just leave her there, and it wasn’t as though the mage’s dungeon was a simple enough place to navigate while carrying extra baggage.

“If you can’t get a grip, you owe me big for this later,” he muttered, irritation coloring his voice. Bracing himself, he picked up Adeline and headed toward the faint light. At the end of the hallway, they came upon stairs descending further into the darkness.

“Ah, brings back memories,” he said, a bitter smile crossing his lips as he recalled his academy exams. Back then, he hadn’t expected that test to prepare him for anything like this. The only difference was that the knight by his side now was someone he could trust with his life, not an enemy who might stab him in the back.

Drawing his sword, Maxime descended the stairs cautiously. A mage’s lair was filled with traps, each designed to kill intruders without mercy. He extended his senses with each step. No traps. Carefully, he moved forward.

A sticky, malevolent aura intensified as he reached the bottom, the air thick with tension. The space opened into a wide room with multiple doors and two downward-sloping paths, but he hesitated.

It’s coming.

Maxime left Adeline near the stairs. She clung to his coat, but he gently pried her off, leaving her crouched in a corner.

“…Wait here.”

He steadied his sword, a bead of sweat trickling down his hand. The air reeked of rot, and a wet slapping sound echoed from the depths. Something, or someone, was coming up from below.

Thud, thud. Crack, crunch.

It was a grotesque creature, an abomination of stitched-together parts from various beasts. Decay clung to its rotting flesh, and it carried the stench of death. Its misshapen body had the torso and limbs of a hexapedal creature, the head of a hellhound, and legs resembling the hind legs of a giant locust. The rasping sound of claws against stone must have been from its unnatural legs.

Maxime watched as it registered his presence, saliva dripping from its open maw. The hellhound’s eyes locked onto him, and he braced himself, feeling sweat trickle down his back.

Bang!

The creature’s hind legs propelled it forward, and Maxime raised his blade just in time to deflect its charge. There was no cry of pain—its creator had apparently deemed vocal cords unnecessary.

Maxime staggered, spinning mana through his body to recover. His heart thundered as he pointed his sword at the monster.

It lunged again, and he struck back, his blade colliding with a head as hard as stone. He shook out his wrist, tingling from the impact. It wasn’t just stitched together; it was reinforced with magic. He scoffed, flexing his wrist.

“Did they make that head out of rock?”

He watched the beast’s saliva drip from its open jaws, determined not to let his sword near that filthy mouth again. The creature tensed its hind legs, preparing to leap. Maxime didn’t wait for it to act. Instead, he surged forward, his mana flowing in a sudden burst.

With a swift strike, he aimed to sever the monster’s head. His blade tore through, and the creature flew back, torn into pieces mid-air, black liquid splattering the ground.

“Pathetic, for something meant to guard a mage’s workshop.”

Turning, he saw Adeline still sitting near the stairs. He called her name as he approached. He had to know what had driven her into such a state of terror. Kneeling down, he gently turned her to face him, seeing her withered posture, her face hidden in her hands.

Has she encountered dark magic before?

Maxime frowned. Her reaction reminded him of his own first encounter with dark magic. He’d felt a similar burning sensation in his chest, a hollow ache that seemed to eat away at his soul. But why would a pawn of the Count be fighting against dark mages?

As he considered, he heard her voice, faint and shaky.

“Eyes… my eyes…”

Maxime leaned in, trying to catch her words.

“Adeline? Can you hear me?”

“My eyes… They…”

He reached for her hands, which were clamped over her face, and gently pried them away.

“Sorry, but I need to check your eyes for a moment.”

With a murmur of apology, Maxime carefully untied the black cloth covering her eyes, letting it fall to the floor. He lifted her hair and looked into her eyes, and his breath caught.

She was staring back at him with blind, milky eyes—yet that wasn’t what stunned him.

“A… curse…”

In the center of each pupil, etched deep into the black, were dark, writhing lines—an ancient curse he’d seen before, one that had once marked his own chest. The curse seemed to dance, feeding off the malevolent energy in the air.

Maxime gripped her hands tightly as they trembled, his mind racing with fury and disbelief. So this is what Benning had done.

“Damn it all.”

Adeline continued to tremble, lost in her own nightmare, as Maxime lifted the cloth and wrapped it back around her eyes. He knotted it securely behind her head and cupped her cheeks.

“Adeline.”

He breathed slowly, willing her to match his calm breaths. Gradually, her shaking lessened.

“Hang on. Just a little longer.”

He picked up his sword, letting his wrath boil to the surface.

He took a step forward. The creatures paused, sensing something amiss, and hesitated. Maxime exhaled a deep breath, his hatred like ice.

“You’re out of luck.”

His blade flashed, cutting through the darkness like the wind.