Journey to Become the Zenith

A Broken House Still Standing

That’s what happened during the warrior king Willmot’s era, when his brothers banded together to fight him, but in the end he took the throne for himself, and killed all the opposition.

History in this kingdom was not something written with ink.

It was carved with blood.

Every ruler that sat upon the throne of Skyfall carried that same silent understanding—power was never simply inherited. It was taken, defended, and sometimes... stained.

Lane had learned that early.

Victor had made sure of it.

”Never trust a throne that looks peaceful,” he once said casually, leaning against a wall with that calm, unreadable expression of his. ”It just means the blood hasn’t dried yet.”

At the time, she thought he was exaggerating.

Now—

Standing in front of the remnants of a fallen noble family...

She understood exactly what he meant.

Being stripped of their peerage, the Redcliffe family were no longer able to continue being knights and soldiers of the kingdom. Their banners had been taken. Their authority erased. Their names... reduced to whispers.

Some adapted.

Some broke.

Most of them became adventurers or mercenaries, selling the same skills they once offered their king—now to whoever paid enough.

Others...

Couldn’t bear it.

The shame. The fall. The weight of failure pressed onto generations of pride.

Some chose death.

Not in battle.

But quietly.

Alone.

Lane’s gaze lowered slightly as she walked.

”...Pathetic.”

But her voice lacked real contempt.

Because deep down—

She understood it.

Pride wasn’t something you could just throw away.

Especially not for people who had lived their entire lives believing they were born above others.

The current head of the family was a young woman called Ramona Redcliffe.

Young.

Too young, some would say, to carry a broken house on her shoulders.

But from what Lane had read—

Ramona wasn’t weak.

Far from it.

She had held the family together when it should have collapsed.

She had kept them fed.

Given them purpose.

And more importantly—

She had kept them dangerous.

Lane’s fingers tightened slightly around the folded documents she had already memorized.

”...Not bad.”

A faint, almost approving thought passed through her mind.

Lane who finished reading all the information she had on the Redcliffes went straight to their home.

The streets grew quieter the deeper she walked into the western district.

The air itself felt heavier here.

No laughter.

No lively merchants.

Just closed gates, quiet footsteps, and eyes watching from behind curtains.

This wasn’t a place of living.

It was a place of waiting.

Waiting for opportunity.

Or revenge.

The house that the Redcliffes stayed at was a small mansion-like residence that, at first glance, looked a little untidy.

But the longer Lane looked at it—

The more she noticed things others might miss.

The walls weren’t broken.

Just worn.

The garden wasn’t dead.

Just... unattended.

The windows were clean.

The doors reinforced.

Guards hidden—not absent.

”...You’re still holding on.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

The reason they were still able to afford living in such a place, even though they weren’t nobles anymore, was because the family was still able to gain enough funds from being adventurers and mercenaries.

Meaning—

They hadn’t lost their fangs.

They had just... learned to hunt differently.

Lane stepped closer.

The wind brushed against her bare shoulders, her black dress shifting lightly against her thighs. Her posture remained relaxed—but her senses were sharp.

She didn’t knock.

She didn’t need to.

...

Lara who was about to knock on the door, was then greeted by an arrow which she knew was coming, but didn’t bother to dodge since it wasn’t aimed at her.

The arrow sliced through the air—

Thwack.

It embedded itself into the wood beside her head.

A warning.

Clean.

Precise.

Her expression didn’t change.

”That was a warning shot, the next one will be aimed at your head. So state your business.”

Lane lifted her gaze slightly.

Above.

On the roof—

Ten men.

All armed.

All aiming at her.

Her eyes scanned them once.

Positioning.

Breathing.

Grip.

”...Decent.”

She could tell immediately—

These weren’t amateurs.

Lane wanted to attack them.

Her fingers twitched slightly.

But she didn’t come here for that.

She came here to negotiate.

To bring them under Victor’s flag.

Attacking them now...

Would complicate things.

Still—

Her eyes narrowed faintly.

If I don’t show strength...

They would treat her like prey.

And that—

Was unacceptable.

Victor’s voice echoed faintly in her memory.

”If you don’t know what to do...”

A pause.

”...then beat them until you figure it out.”

Lane exhaled softly.

”...Right.”

Her lips curved just slightly.

Simple enough.

’But if I don’t show my dominance now they might think we’re pushovers. Well, Ren did say that if I’m confused in what to do with someone, I just need to beat them up and think about what to do once they’re unconscious. So better beat these guys up and decide what to do with them later.’

”Why aren’t you talki—”

The man didn’t finish his sentence.

Because—

Lane moved.

No warning.

No buildup.

Just—

Gone.

One moment she stood below.

The next—

She was already beside him.

The man’s eyes widened—

Too late.

A sharp strike to the neck.

His body went limp instantly.

Unconscious before he even understood what happened.

Lane didn’t stop.

She moved like a shadow slipping between bodies.

Efficient.

Precise.

Each movement clean.

No wasted effort.

One by one—

The archers fell.

No screams.

No chaos.

Just silence.

Until—

The last one.

He reacted faster.

His arrow released.

Lane shifted slightly—

But not enough.

The arrow grazed her arm.

A thin line of red appeared.

She didn’t even look at it.

The man froze for a second.

That hesitation—

Cost him.

Lane closed the distance.

A single strike.

He dropped.

Silence returned.

Ten men—

Down.

Lane stood still for a moment.

Then turned toward the mansion.

”...Now we can talk.”

She stepped forward—

But stopped.

Someone was already there.

Standing in front of her.

A middle-aged man.

Butler uniform.

Perfect posture.

Calm eyes.

Lane hadn’t sensed him approaching.

That alone—

Made her pause internally.

...Interesting.

The man bowed slightly.

”Milady, we’re sorry for the rude introductions. You must understand, most of the people inside the mansion are wary of outsiders. Especially those who don’t state the purpose of their visit.”

His tone was polite.

Respectful.

But his body—

Was ready.

Every muscle balanced.

Every movement controlled.

If she attacked—

He would respond instantly.

Lane met his gaze.

Flat.

Unbothered.

”I did not appreciate being fired upon, and then questioned.”

A pause.

Her voice didn’t rise.

Didn’t harden.

It simply... stated.

”That’s the only reason I fought back.”

The butler bowed deeper.

”Once again, milady, I apologize.”

But even now—

He was watching her carefully.

Trying to read her.

Trying to understand—

Who she was.

Lane gave him nothing.

Her expression remained completely still.

Cold.

Unreadable.

”Very well.”

She spoke calmly.

”Just bring me to the current head of the house... and then I will forgive you.”

The butler’s eyes flickered for a brief moment.

Surprise.

He had expected aggression.

Hostility.

Not this.

Still—

Orders were orders.

And the head of the house had already given one.

”Very well, milady.”

He stepped aside slightly.

”Please follow me inside the mansion.”

Lane walked forward without hesitation.

The butler moved with her.

Both stepping past the fallen archers.

Neither commenting on them.

Neither looking back.

As if—

It was nothing.

They jumped down from the roof.

Landing smoothly.

The butler reached for the door.

It opened with a quiet creak.

The inside of the mansion waited—

Silent.

Watching.

As Lane stepped in.

And the door slowly closed behind her.