My Ex-Girlfriend Was Appointed as a Knight Commander

Chapter 112

Though the connection felt hollow, they were undeniably close. Behind the cold glass wall, where no warmth could be felt, lay Christine. The pale light illuminated the inside of the tube, and she floated serenely, her mouth slightly open as if deeply asleep.

“Sleeping so peacefully, huh,” Maxime muttered, running his hand along the glass. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like she was submerged in that sticky, green mucus he had feared. Maxime stared at Christine for a long time before noticing his reflection in the glass.

“...And here I am, covered in blood.”

He let out a small laugh. His face was a mess, smeared with the blood and slime of the monsters he’d fought upstairs, along with the blood of the mages he’d killed on his way down. There wasn’t much of his actual skin left visible under all the stains. The quiet chuckling continued for a bit, then stopped abruptly. A tear rolled down from Maxime’s eye.

“It’s just from laughing. Just laughing.”

He murmured to himself, knowing she wouldn’t hear, as he wiped his face. His hands, stained from the countless battles he’d fought, only made his face dirtier, adding another layer of grime. Maxime shook his head and stood up. He hadn’t safely escaped with Christine yet. First, he needed to get her out of that tube.

He drew his sword. His right arm was unusable, and he couldn’t afford to risk using it now. As the pulse of his blood echoed through his veins, the weight of the sword in his left hand seemed to come and go. Maxime raised his left arm carefully, ensuring he wouldn’t accidentally harm her, and slashed at the tube.

The liquid inside began to drain. Christine slowly sank to the bottom. Maxime quickly reached out, catching her as she fell. His right arm throbbed as if it might tear apart, but Maxime didn’t flinch. He checked Christine carefully.

Her pulse was slow but steady. He removed the mask from her mouth and nose and confirmed she was breathing, though faintly.

“I wonder what kind of things you’ll say when you wake up and realize I saw you like this again.”

Maxime removed his cloak and wrapped it around her body. As much as he wanted to carry her out of this cursed dungeon as fast as possible, his right arm wouldn’t cooperate. Maxime let out a long sigh, then lifted her onto his back. Christine was so light that he wondered if he was even carrying a person.

“...Let’s get out of here.”

Maxime steadied his breathing. He had already killed all the enemies he could, but who knew what might still be waiting for him. All he could hope for was that the royal guard, who had started their investigation late, would discover the dungeon and come to his rescue.

“Damn it...”

He trudged through the hallway soaked in the blood of the mages. Pools of blood, both from the decapitated and disemboweled mages, formed on the floor. Some of the blood, thick and blackened, had come from the dark mages, a foul byproduct of their corrupted magic.

Maxime ascended the stairs, passing the chamber filled with the corpses of the monsters he had slain. Occasionally, a twitch of movement from the remains would prompt him to stab or crush whatever stirred, releasing fresh spurts of blood.

Just a little further.

Maxime urged himself onward. He had lost too much blood while fighting the monsters and mages. His head was spinning, and his mouth felt dry. But he wasn’t done yet. He could still walk. Maxime placed his hand on the wall, using the cold stone to steady himself as he climbed. The chill seeped into his heart, tightening around it.

Just a little more.

The light at the end of the stairway came into view. The chamber where the old mage had conducted his experiments was in sight. Maxime needed to gather what little mana he had left to restore his body and move forward. If he collapsed in the middle of the dungeon, no one would find him or Christine.

“I just need to... rest for a moment.”

He muttered as he reached the top of the stairs. He thought about sitting down to rest in the lab, but as he raised his head, he froze in place.

“Oh no.”

It wasn’t his voice.

At the end of his gaze stood a knight. The armor, the colors, and the emblem were all too familiar. Maxime’s dulled senses sharpened once more. He forced his heavy eyelids open and pushed his mana to circulate through his body, though it felt like it was scraping the bottom of his heart. He could no longer heal his body with mana, but Maxime knew that if he didn’t keep it flowing, this would be the end.

“I was originally looking for something, but...”

The knight from Benning lifted his visor, revealing green eyes that were more beastlike than human. His gaze, filled with curiosity, studied Maxime and the unconscious Christine on his back.

“It seems I’ve caught a much bigger prize than expected.”

Maxime tried to gauge the knight’s strength. Could he kill him in one strike?

...Impossible.

Maxime clenched his teeth. The knight hadn’t shown any hostility yet, simply rubbing his chin in thought, turning his head here and there as if intrigued by the situation.

“Hmm, the Count was right. There’s no reason we couldn’t find that mage’s corpse, but... to think the mages hid it so well.”

The knight muttered to himself, then grinned.

“You there, royal guard. Do you know who the person you’re carrying is?”

Maxime didn’t respond. He had to conserve his strength, even for speaking.

“...The king must have known and sent you here... or perhaps you’re a rather unique knight yourself.”

The knight seemed to be pondering something, then spoke again, his voice dripping with amusement.

“The Count wasn’t wrong to mention you so often.”

The knight adjusted his grip on his sword with both hands. Despite his battered state, Maxime rose unsteadily to his feet, standing once more like a corpse that refused to die. The knight’s face twisted with annoyance.

“If you’re this skilled, you might actually be a threat to the Count’s grand plans. I should have killed you the moment I saw you.”

The knight gathered his mana, and flames began to flicker along the length of his sword. He seemed to have forgotten that they were in an underground dungeon. The space around them trembled as the aura of the knight’s power surged.

Maxime forced his right arm to move, lifting it in a final effort. He had missed his chance to strike before the knight could activate his aura. Maxime, his vision blurred from exhaustion, gazed at the fiery blade in the knight’s hand. Could he win? Despair didn’t even cross his mind. Maxime gripped his sword tightly and prepared himself. The knight bared his teeth, glaring at Maxime.

He regretted not prying more information from Maxime, but if he could take both Maxime’s head and the mage as trophies for the Count, that would surely satisfy his master.

The knight lowered his sword, the greenish glow of the dungeon now mixed with the flickering light of his aura. The space around them crackled as the light turned eerie and distorted. Maxime, his eyes still flickering with life, stared back at the knight. The knight, irritated by Maxime’s unwavering defiance, muttered in disgust.

“Very well. If you wish for a slow death, I’ll oblige.”

Maxime charged forward, dragging his sword along the ground. The knight brought his aura-infused blade down with crushing force. But once again, his sword failed to make contact with Maxime. Instead, Maxime’s sword slid along the edge of the knight’s, clinging to it like a shadow. The knight clicked his tongue in frustration.

“How long are you going to—”

Boom!

A massive explosion of force sent Maxime flying, shaking the very ground around them. Maxime’s body trembled violently as he tried to push himself up, though his body refused to obey. The knight stood there for a long moment, watching Maxime’s futile struggle.

“No. It might be more interesting to let you die slowly here and watch as I take the woman you tried to save.”

A predatory smile returned to the knight’s face. Maxime’s movements became more frantic. As he tried to crawl back up, the knight kicked him, sending him crashing into the wall of the dungeon. Maxime’s body crumpled against the stone, but his eyes, filled with unyielding determination, still locked onto the knight.

“Now, let’s see...”

The knight turned his head toward where Christine lay. His plan was to leave Maxime to die here alone, and he would complete the mission for the Count.

But the knight froze.

“What...?”

Christine wasn’t there.

The spot where Maxime had laid her down was now empty.

“You filthy Benning dog.”

The words were rough, but the voice was gentle. The knight instinctively turned toward Maxime, but the half-dead royal guard was smiling. His lips formed silent words.

You’re late, Christine.

Before the knight could react, agony ripped through his body. He screamed as his limbs felt like they were being skewered. His sword fell from his grasp, clattering uselessly on the ground. The knight writhed, unaware of what had happened.

Aaaagh!

The dungeon chamber was suddenly filled with a brilliant light. The knight’s eyes widened in horror. Chains of light had pierced through his wrists and ankles. He had seen this magic before, taught to Christine Watson by another royal guard mage. The chains wound tighter around him, creeping up his body. He tried to summon his mana to resist, but the enhanced magic of Christine, the genius mage, was far too powerful for him to break.

“Aaaaaahhh!!”

He screamed as his joints twisted and his bones cracked under the pressure of the chains. His limbs were crushed, and finally, a chain looped around his neck, leaving him hanging in midair.

“Y-you... monster...!”

The knight choked out the words, his voice strangled. Christine watched coldly, tightening the chains until the sound of snapping bones echoed through the chamber.

Crack.

With one final sickening sound, the knight’s neck broke. His lifeless body dangled in the air, suspended by the chains. Christine snapped her fingers, and the corpse burst into flames, the fire devouring the remains of the knight. She clicked her tongue in distaste as she watched the body burn.

Maxime, still seated on the ground, blinked in surprise at Christine’s unexpected recovery. She dusted off her hands and turned toward him, a frustrated expression on her face.

“Who the hell turned me into that...?”

But mid-sentence, Christine stopped. She stared down at Maxime, or what was left of him. Her eyes widened in confusion as she took in the sight of the half-dead man before her, not recognizing the black-haired knight she had never seen before.

“...Who are you?”

Maxime couldn’t help but chuckle softly.