Journey to Become the Zenith

Where Blood Stained the Road

The three who left their village were heading toward the city called Fantom City. It was a three-day walk, so the trio continued their journey without entering any other town and camped out during the night.

Morning mist still clung to the grass on the second day when Victor and Videl faced each other on a small clearing beside the road.

Their breath rose in faint white clouds.

Steel flashed.

Dust lifted.

”Damn it! How come I can never hit you?!” Videl shouted, frustration burning in her sapphire eyes as she lunged again.

Victor slipped aside with effortless grace, her blade slicing nothing but air.

She attacked harder.

Faster.

Magic flared around her limbs.

Victor allowed it.

Even now, his body was under the constant strain of his own spell—three times the world’s gravity pressing down on every movement. He trained this way daily, refining control and strength simultaneously.

To Videl, it looked like he was barely trying.

To Victor, every step was weighted steel.

Yet even so, she could not touch him.

He parried lightly and stepped back.

Videl bent over, hands on her knees, panting.

”Unfair... You even let me use magic!”

Victor smiled faintly.

The human body truly was frightening.

Slow to awaken.

But once it did, its growth never stopped.

If humans had this much potential, why were they so weak in my past life?

Even now, at fifteen, he possessed only five percent of his former strength as Demon Emperor Anos.

Five percent.

Yet that alone once meant the destruction of cities.

Back then, a single spell could erase kingdoms.

Ancient beings fled at his name.

And now, he handicapped himself sparring with the new Hero.

Lane stood a short distance away, practicing her wind magic.

Compressed air burst forward in controlled spirals.

Her movements were elegant.

Precise.

Victor noticed her glancing at him between casts.

Videl noticed too.

Neither said anything.

While they trained, Victor felt it.

A disturbance ahead.

Steel clashing.

Mana flaring.

Death.

Lane sensed it seconds later.

Then Videl did.

”Victor, I know you felt that. We should check it out.”

She didn’t wait.

She ran.

Victor sighed.

Heroes really are born busybodies.

Lane and Victor followed quickly, catching up when Videl slowed instinctively to keep them together.

The smell hit them first.

Blood.

Iron.

Smoke.

Bodies lay scattered across the road.

A carriage stood at the center, its wheels broken, its sides scarred by blades.

Sixteen rough-looking men surrounded it.

Bandits—at least in appearance.

But Victor’s eyes narrowed.

Their formation was too clean.

Their weapons too well-maintained.

These aren’t bandits. They’re soldiers wearing masks.

Defending the carriage were only two knights.

One was a young man, handsome, stance firm though blood stained his armor.

The other—

A beautiful woman with silver hair tied in a knot.

Even beneath her armor, her figure was impossible to hide.

Ruby-red eyes burned with defiance.

She stood like a drawn blade.

Then the carriage door opened.

A lady stepped down.

Pinkish-blonde hair fell over her shoulders.

Blue eyes as clear as the sky.

Even in danger, she smiled gently.

”If I am to die today,” she said softly, ”can you please tell me who it is that wants to kill me?”

The masked men remained silent.

The young knight snapped.

”The lady is asking you something! Answer her now!”

She raised a hand to stop him.

The forest held its breath.