Chapter 76

Three Months Ago, Right After the Behemoth Battle.

His legs felt heavy. It was as if the falling rain had turned into a weight pressing down on his entire body.

Maxim trudged along the muddy road, the sound of his steps squelching in the soaked earth.

“No...”

The woman in his arms was barely clinging to life, her breath so weak it seemed it could cease at any moment. How much time did she have left? An hour? Thirty minutes? Or perhaps he was already holding onto something lost. His mind was ablaze with such thoughts, racing with worry.

“No…”

The last bit of strength Christine had infused into him was the only thing pushing Maxim forward. His body was in a better state than before, but his mind had never been more confused.

Maxim had discarded his armor completely. He couldn’t afford to let the rain rob her of her body heat any further. He had wrapped Christine in a cloth and held her as close to his body as possible, but her warmth was still gradually fading.

Please.

Maxim grit his teeth. For the first time, he cursed the pitiful amount of mana left in him. His pounding, aching heart circulated just enough mana to preserve what little warmth remained. If that flow were to stop, something truly irreversible would happen.

“Ah…”

Christine’s golden hair seemed to be losing its color. Raindrops slid down her dangerously closed eyelids. Her face, once white as milk, had now become deathly pale from the blood loss.

“Just a little longer… hold on…”

Words that would not reach her ears hung in the air. They were meant for Christine as much as they were for himself.

Squelch.

How long had it been since the mud gave way to flat ground? His boots were already caked in filth. Maxim lifted his head to take in the changing landscape.

“…!”

In his field of vision, a solitary house appeared in the middle of the field. His pace quickened.

Just a little further.

Maxim mumbled to himself, clutching Christine tighter in his arms. He stumbled, lost his balance, but quickly recovered and ran again. Ten more steps, then five.

Thump, thump, thump.

“Is anyone there?!”

Maxim’s hoarse voice rang out. It was late afternoon—a time when no one might be home. With his heart burning with desperation, he waited for a response, but couldn’t help pounding on the door again.

Thump, thump, thump.

There was no answer. Maxim stepped back slightly.

“Damn it…!”

Bang!

He could think about the consequences later.

The door shattered with a loud crash, collapsing into the house’s living room. Staggering inside, Maxim searched for a place to lay Christine down.

'The sofa.'

Maxim carefully placed Christine on the sofa. He then approached the pitch-black fireplace and knelt to start a fire. The logs, soaked through and turned to charred chunks, were wet.

'Wet?'

Maxim’s face hardened. Slowly, he straightened up from his crouched position.

He examined his body.

'It's locked.'

The glowing mass of magic Christine had bestowed on him just before losing consciousness—it still swirled inside him, surrounding his heart and preventing his mana from escaping.

'I can circulate mana within my body… but I can’t expel it.'

Maxim placed a hand on his chest, feeling the rapid pounding of his heart. The curse that once disrupted his heartbeat had finally stabilized. While using aura was impossible now, at least circulating mana wouldn’t turn him into a cripple.

Maxim bit his lip as he looked down at Christine.

'Thank you.'

There was no presence to be felt, but Maxim knew enemies were nearby.

As death crept closer, Maxim tightened his grip on his sword.

He cast a glance at Christine, lying on the sofa near the fireplace.

No, he couldn’t die here, not like this. His aura shifted, infused with killing intent.

“You figured it out quickly.”

The concealment magic surrounding the mages dissolved. The first figure to appear was a witch clad in a dark green hood. Maxim counted the presences appearing around the house.

'Eleven… twelve.'

His grip on the sword tightened. With Christine behind him, he drew his blade. How many had they brought with them? Maxim clenched his teeth.

“How did you know?”

The witch asked, tilting her head curiously, as if she genuinely wanted to know.

“There was moisture left in the fireplace.”

“Oh, I hadn’t considered the time it would take for the water to dry…”

Maxim cut her off with a derisive laugh.

“What kind of idiot extinguishes a fireplace with water?”@@novelbin@@

Taking up a defensive position in front of Christine, Maxim replied. The witch hummed in amusement, as if impressed.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Her eyes shifted to the mages behind her. One of the mages, caught by the witch’s gaze, waved a hand defensively.

“How was I supposed to know what it’s like to put out a fire by hand?”

Could it be done?

As the mages murmured amongst themselves, Maxim was already rolling his eyes, planning his next move.

If he could take this woman out in one strike before she reacted, the rest would be easier. Then—

Maxim locked eyes with the witch, who smirked beneath her hood.

“Nice try…”

And that’s when he struck.

“Huh?”

Slash.

The sound of fabric being torn filled the air. None of the mages had seen the blade move. The witch’s head slowly lifted toward the sky before falling to the ground.

For a moment, silence reigned. As the witch’s head completed its arc, landing on the earth, the mages’ frozen shock allowed Maxim to make his move. His blade pierced the throat of another mage before they could react.

“Get him!”

A belated shout echoed through the empty house. Mana swirled at the feet of the mages, forming a web intended to trap Maxim.

Maxim stepped back, glancing once again at Christine to ensure she was still lying safely. Twisting his ankle, he gathered strength.

“Stop him!”

Boom!

Mana clashed with Maxim’s sword. The mages in the front row shielded the others, readying spells of their own. Maxim’s grip on his sword tightened.

Crack.

“What kind of strength is this…?!”

The barrier buckled. The imbalance of power caused mana to surge and destabilize the shield. At that same moment, a completed spell shot toward Maxim.

Clang!

The barrier shattered.

“—!”

The incoming magic—

“…Chains?”

—was a pitch-black chain, shrouded in darkness.

Clink.

The chains wrapped around Maxim’s shoulders and legs. As his sword danced through the air, the head of another mage fell.

“Catch him, no matter what it takes!”

Even with the witch dead, the mages moved in unison. The chains tightened. Maxim strained to move his limbs, and the mages desperately maintained the hold.

Then, Maxim felt a presence behind him, and his blood ran cold.

“…Impressive.”

It was the witch’s voice.

There should have been blood staining the floor where Maxim had severed her neck, but there wasn’t a single drop.

“You were barely hanging on to life before, but… maybe the count was right about your talent.”

Maxim’s breathing grew heavier. A dark, shadow-like substance was being absorbed back into the witch’s body.

Dark magic.

Maxim’s voice was as hard as stone as he identified the magic.

“…So the Mage Tower is dabbling in such things?”

“Well, the curse on your body is also a form of dark magic, isn’t it? No need to act surprised.”

The witch smirked, waving her hand.

Christine’s body, which had been lying on the sofa, began to levitate.

“Let her go.”

Maxim’s voice was cold and filled with menace. The witch’s eyes were fixated on Christine.

“I’d love nothing more than to rip apart the traitorous bitch who abandoned the Mage Tower, but…”

A shadow crept slowly over Christine’s body.

“I have orders to follow.”

Clang.

Maxim struggled against the chains.

“Oh, right, that applies to you too. So don’t waste your strength…”

Clang!

“…and just surrender.”

The witch flicked her fingers. A mage stepped forward, brushing past Maxim.

“Move her somewhere out of sight.”

The mage carrying Christine nodded and began to walk away.

Clang!

“Hurk!”

The sound of the mage stumbling forward was followed by a heavy thud as he collapsed. Maxim’s sword hovered just behind him.

“I told you to behave.”

Bloodshot veins stood out in Maxim’s eyes. The mana-forged chains rattled dangerously.

“Shouldn’t you be thanking me? I saved someone who was on the verge of death, but your attitude seems… ungrateful.”

As the witch motioned lazily, the mage hurriedly left the house, carrying Christine. With another wave of her hand, the witch shut the door. Then, slowly, she approached Maxim, who was now bound tightly by multiple layers of chains. Her fingers gently touched Maxim’s face.

“I really like your unbroken gaze.”

The chains slipped into Maxim’s mouth, forming a gag. The witch let out a breathy laugh as if finding the sight amusing.

“I’ve always wanted to say something villainous like that.”

She chuckled, her long, claw-like nails brushing against Maxim’s eyelids.

The sound of the chains rattling stopped. Maxim stared at the witch with bloodshot eyes, her violet irises reflecting in his own.

“To be honest, I don’t actually like your eyes. They make me want to gouge them out.”

The witch’s tone was conversational.

“Since they said keeping you alive is necessary, I suppose I can take one of your eyes as payment for cutting off my head earlier. No one will complain, right?”

Maxim’s eyes closed. The witch’s grin widened.

“Coward.”

She ran her fingers through Maxim’s hair, her gestures dripping with mockery.

Creak.

The ominous sound followed soon after. The chains around Maxim’s body tightened slightly. The witch’s brow furrowed.

Crack—!

Without warning, the chains shattered into pieces. The dark magic exploded into shards of mana, scattering through the air. A fragment of the luminous chain scraped against Maxim’s tightly clenched teeth as it fell away.

He broke the chains through brute strength?

A flash of confusion crossed the witch’s face. Before the black shadows at her feet could rise,

Boom!

The chains shattered, and Maxim’s elbow shot out in one smooth motion. His strike hit the witch’s throat with perfect precision—

"—!"

The witch couldn’t even scream as her neck snapped, sending her head flying once again. Somehow, in the midst of it all, Maxim’s sword had found its way back into his hand.

“Guh...”

The mages, who had been maintaining the mana chains, began coughing up blood, the backlash from the broken spell tearing through them. Maxim’s sword cut through the throat of one mage with a swift stroke, blood spraying like mud from a horse’s hoof as it splattered across the ground.

Without hesitation, Maxim dashed toward the door. They hadn’t gone far yet. Maxim made his decision in an instant, ignoring the remaining mages as he burst through the door.

Heat rushed toward him from behind. The walls of the house exploded outward, hurling Maxim into the rain-soaked field.

“This is getting annoying.”

The witch casually rotated her broken neck back into place as she walked toward him. Maxim struggled to his feet, his body trembling.

“One eye isn’t going to be enough. I think I’ll take a leg this time.”

Maxim’s gaze wasn’t on the witch but somewhere else entirely. He was looking in the direction Christine had been taken. The shadows swirling at the witch’s fingertips began shifting form again, turning from a sword to a scythe, from a scythe to a spear, and then into a beast’s claw.

“You haven’t even bothered to look at me this whole time. How rude.”

Swish.

The witch swung her hand through the air, and Maxim deflected the incoming attack with his sword. More mages gathered behind her, closing in and forming a barrier, their hands glowing with magic.

Maxim gripped his sword tighter, assuming a stance. There were eight mages left. His eyes flashed with determination.

Mana-laced sword strikes collided with the mages’ spells in the air. Maxim twisted his body, blocking and parrying attacks from all eight directions.

“Just immobilize him. I’ll handle the rest.”

At the witch’s command, the mages focused their attacks on limiting Maxim’s movements, relentlessly aiming to disable him. Amidst the chaos, the witch launched another assault, her dark magic targeting Maxim.

Slice.

The dark blade grazed Maxim’s neck.

Stab.

A deep gash appeared across his waist.

The witch’s shadows continued to strike at him, their aim increasingly precise. Though Maxim dodged the lethal blows, each time he was nicked, his stamina and life force drained away bit by bit.

Clang. Clang.

Maxim’s movements grew more frantic. The presences he was tracking had moved too far away. He felled another mage, his sword cutting through their chest. He tried to push forward, but the magic pulled him back again. Another one down—his blade pierced another mage’s heart.

“Got you.”

A cold sensation spread through his left thigh. Dark spikes had pierced through his leg, rendering it useless. His left leg was now just dead weight, and Maxim forced himself to stand on his right leg alone, swinging his sword with everything he had left.

Stab.

The spikes pierced his shoulder, his abdomen, his knee, and his elbow.

Each strike was calculated to avoid vital areas, leaving his body impaled like a puppet suspended in the air. The pain faded to a distant sensation as his pounding heart continued to squeeze out the last drops of mana, keeping him conscious.

“You’ve been durable since the beginning. I noticed it while we fought—your body is tougher than I expected.”

Don’t drop the sword.

Maxim repeated the thought to himself over and over.

His consciousness was tied to his weapon. He knew instinctively that if he let go of the sword, he would lose consciousness. His hand trembled. The rain-soaked hilt kept slipping through his fingers.

“Just close your eyes.”

Oddly enough, the witch’s voice sounded unusually clear.

“It’s alright. It’s not your fault. You slew hundreds of monsters, killed a Behemoth, and pushed yourself beyond your limits. And now you’re here, dragging your barely functional body because of Christine.”

The witch’s voice gnawed at his mind, like ants devouring a cookie. Maxim strained to keep his head upright as he turned his gaze toward her.

“...Fuck off.”

The witch’s grin widened, spreading unnaturally across her face.

“I thought you’d say that.”

She was displeased with the fact that Maxim’s gaze remained fixed on something beyond her.

‘…Huh?’

His gaze.

He wasn’t just staring blankly; he was looking directly at something. Before the witch could comprehend what was happening, her vision flipped.

‘My sight?’

Maxim’s body twisted, and his head was falling toward the ground. No, the one falling was—

Is that my head?

Thud.

The witch died for the third time, and the mages who had been behind her all fell in battle as well. Maxim, his eyes dimming with the fading light, saw a woman approaching.

“The world’s been a mess lately,”

The woman’s lips were set in a hard line as she dragged a sword behind her.

“...but you’re an even bigger mess.”

“…M…Master.”

Maxim’s bloody mouth finally managed to utter the word, a thin stream of blood trickling from his lips. The elf sighed as she looked at the remnants of the witch that had melted away like snow.