Journey to Become the Zenith

The Queen Without Mana

The first thing Videl did after hearing the Queen’s words was remove the cloak covering her shoulders.

The heavy fabric slipped down her back as she untied it and carefully wrapped it around her long sword, placing the weapon gently to the side so it would not interfere with the coming exchange.

The throne room was vast and silent.

Every sound echoed.

The rustle of cloth.

The faint scrape of steel.

A hush falls where fighters stand still. Their chests rise, then fall, again. Quiet air moves through their lungs. Each breath waits - no rush, only rhythm.

With the sword now secure, she lifted a hand to peel away the mask hiding her face. Off it came - suddenly, the chill of the hall’s air touched her bare cheeks.

More importantly -

Her vision cleared.

Fog at the edges of her vision came from the mask, yet facing one such as Queen Amara meant tiny flaws grew into loss. A sliver of blocked view might tilt the fight - here, hesitation wore armor too.

Footsteps quiet at first, then solid on the smooth surface, Videl took her place after finishing up. She stood still, weight balanced, heels set tight against the shine of the floor.

Instinct took over her limbs. She shifted without thinking.

On her feet, she stood like always.

Her body held the pose like it belonged there, shaped by years beginning early on.

Victor’s stance.

Her two hands held tight to the thick sword while lifting it up, stopping with the hilt near waist level. Pointing a bit ahead, the metal strip stayed tilted, arms soft at the bends, upper limbs free, stance ready - neither pushing nor pulling back.

To outsiders it looked like an ordinary stance.

Basic.

Simple.

But in truth— It was the foundation of Victor’s entire sword philosophy.

Versatile.

Unpredictable.

Alive.

It wasn’t just a way of fighting. It was a way of thinking—of adapting, of never becoming something the enemy could read twice.

Queen Amara observed her silently.

Not a word. Not a shift of posture.

Her eyes were the only thing that shifted - measured, unhurried - watching Videl like a general scanning terrain, already weighing which spot would first run red.

A spark lit her red gaze, just barely. The look stayed soft, not quite reaching hunger.

”Young knight,” spoke the Queen, her tone gentle but firm, ”restraint isn’t required here.”

A hush carried her words, smooth as water slipping over stones when the sun dips low. Yet inside that calm... sat something firm. Not pleading, simply demanding attention by its mere presence.

”Use your mana and strengthen your body. If you do not do that, this Queen might accidentally cripple you.”

A small grin appeared, quiet yet steady, like her comment carried only careful interest.

”We do not want that to happen to such a promising young knight.”

Her voice carried nothing of pride. It stayed flat, clear of boastfulness.

It unsettled me because of that.

Videl had spent years training beside Victor.

She knew this kind of confidence.

It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.

Victor spoke the same way when he fought—like the outcome was already decided, like the battle was just a formality he had to walk through.

Calm.

Certain.

Almost casually overwhelming.

Still...

A small crease formed between Videl’s brows, almost imperceptible.

She wasn’t entirely convinced the Queen understood what she was asking.

Or maybe... she understood perfectly—and simply didn’t care.

Videl inhaled slowly, steadying herself. The tension in her shoulders eased, not from relaxation, but from control. Her fingers adjusted slightly around the hilt of her sword, grounding herself in something familiar.

When she spoke, her voice was respectful—but firm.

”Your Majesty... I know you are confident in your strength, but if I use mana, I hope you will do so as well.”

Her sapphire eyes didn’t waver. She met the Queen’s gaze directly—not challengingly, but without submission either.

”I do not wish to sound rude, but I hope to fight Your Majesty fairly.”

There was a brief pause.

The air between them felt heavier now, like something unseen had quietly settled into place.

She tightened her grip on the sword.

Not out of fear.

Out of readiness.

”So if Your Majesty wishes me to use mana, I hope Your Majesty uses your mana as well.”

For a moment—

Silence fell across the throne room.

Then—

Queen Amara looked at her with visible amusement.

A second later—

She laughed.

Not a polite chuckle.

Not restrained royal laughter.

A deep, hearty laugh that rolled through the throne room like thunder.

”Hahaha!”

The sound echoed against the marble pillars and high ceiling.

”We are truly impressed with you, young knight.”

Amara’s crimson eyes gleamed.

Her expression was warm, almost entertained.

”I understand what you want from this Queen...”

She paused.

”But unfortunately, we can do nothing about that.”

Videl blinked slightly.

Amara continued calmly.

”You see... this Queen possesses only the bare minimum amount of mana.”

The words struck Videl like a sudden gust of cold wind.

Shock flashed across her face.

No mana...?

Immediately, one person appeared in her mind.

Eon.

The young man she had met before.

He had suffered from the same condition.

An extremely small mana capacity.

Even now, Videl remembered it clearly.

For a brief moment her thoughts drifted.

Now that I think about it...

If Eon’s hair turned silver...

And if his black eyes became red...

He would almost look like the Queen’s brother.

The thought surprised her.

Their hair and eye colors were completely different, yet something about their facial structure felt strangely similar.

The shape of the jaw.

The sharpness of the cheekbones.

The calm, composed expression.

And both of them...

Have almost no mana.

Videl tightened her stance slightly but never broke her posture.

Her sword remained steady.

Still facing the Queen, she spoke respectfully.

”Once again... I apologize if this sounds rude, Your Majesty...”

Her voice carried genuine concern.

”But has Your Majesty been cursed?”

The moment those words left her mouth—

The hidden presences inside the throne room reacted.

Above the pillars.

Behind the walls.

On the shadowed rafters of the ceiling.

Several figures shifted abruptly.

Armor rustled.

Mana stirred.

The tension in the room spiked instantly.

But Queen Amara—

Laughed again.

A loud, thunderous laugh that shattered the growing tension.

”Hahaha!”

She wiped the corner of her eye slightly as if genuinely amused.

”Young knight... you truly are straightforward.”

Her crimson eyes sparkled with interest.

”This is the first time this Queen has dealt with someone as direct as you.”