Journey to Become the Zenith

Diverging Paths Beneath One Sky

He turned slightly, sensing the three rulers’ eyes still on him.

Behind him, Videl’s voice cut softly through the dim space.

”Victor...”

Her tone carried weight.

Not fear.

Not doubt.

But something heavier.

Conflict.

”Victor, what are you thinking?” she asked, stepping closer. The lantern light caught the edge of her long blonde hair, turning it almost silver. ”Do you really mean what you just said? Do you really plan to rule over the whole of the Skyfall Kingdom’s underworld?”

Her sapphire eyes searched his face—not accusing, not angry—just trying to understand.

”Yes,” Victor replied without hesitation. ”I do plan to control the whole underworld of the kingdom.”

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t dramatize it. The certainty alone was enough.

”Why?” Videl’s brows knit together. She took another step forward, lowering her voice. ”Why do you want to rule over criminals? Why do you want to become the king of Skyfall’s underworld? Just tell me, why, Victor? As your lover I want to believe in you... but my mind keeps screaming at me. It keeps warning me that you’re heading toward a path I can never follow.”

Her words trembled at the end.

Lane stood slightly behind her, silent, watching.

Videl was not foolish. She did not act blindly. She always thought before she struck. She understood consequences. She understood cost. She had always trusted her heart—and she had always trusted Victor.

But now those two things clashed.

Her sense of justice whispered one thing.

The man she loved stood walking another road.

For the first time in a long while, she looked unsure.

Victor watched her carefully.

The uncertainty in her eyes reminded him of that day long ago—when they stood before the red bear, blood in the snow, destiny pressing down like a blade at their throats.

He couldn’t help the faint curve of his lips.

”No need to worry,” he said quietly. ”I simply want to become the ruler of Skyfall’s underworld for the same reason I wanted Fantom City.”

He stepped closer—not to dominate, but to meet her gaze.

”I want to lessen the tragedies that happen.”

Her breathing slowed slightly.

”If I control the entire underworld, I can control the flow of illegal drugs. I can review assassination targets and decide which are approved and which are denied. I can redirect thieves into more fulfilling work.”

He paused.

”The only reason most of them do what they do is because they want to live. Survival twists people. It doesn’t always corrupt them.”

The lantern flame flickered softly between them.

Victor’s voice lowered.

”Or are you telling me... that you, the future strongest hero, don’t believe these people deserve redemption?”

The words were not mocking. They were deliberate.

Videl inhaled sharply.

”That’s not what I mean...” She looked down briefly, fingers tightening at her sides. ”I... I see. I understand what you want to do now.”

Her shoulders eased, but shame flickered across her expression.

”This is the second time I questioned your decision... even though I stand beside you.”

She bowed her head slightly.

Victor stepped forward immediately and placed two fingers beneath her chin, gently lifting her face.

”Don’t do that.”

His tone softened.

”It’s better that you think for yourself. I don’t want blind obedience. I want you strong enough to challenge me when you think I’m wrong.”

For a moment, the world narrowed to just them.

”It’s obvious we won’t always agree,” he continued. ”Your path and mine are different. You don’t need to follow every one of my whims.”

Lane watched quietly.

Inside, she felt something tighten in her chest.

There was no jealousy—just awareness. Victor didn’t want followers. He wanted equals strong enough to stand beside him.

Victor’s thoughts, however, ran deeper than either of them could hear.

One more year.

When I turn eighteen, the system will awaken fully.

When that happens... the threads of destiny tighten.

He could almost feel it already—the faint pull of something vast, unseen.

I need power before then. Influence. Control.

If he could grasp the underworld, he would grasp information, networks, hidden currents beneath the surface of nations.

And when the so-called script written by those arrogant gods tried to bind him—

He would snap it.

Videl must become independent. Strong enough to stand outside fate itself.

His gaze softened briefly as he looked at her.

You will not be a puppet in someone else’s prophecy.

”Victor...” Videl whispered, calmer now.

Lane stepped closer, her black hair swaying gently.

”You’re not doing this for ambition alone,” she said quietly. ”You’re planning ahead.”

Victor glanced at her, and for a fleeting second, warmth flickered in his golden eyes.

”Always.”

A soft moment passed between the three of them—brief but real. No grand declarations. No theatrics. Just understanding settling where tension had been.

Then Victor straightened.

”Come,” he said lightly. ”Let’s finish this.”

They returned to the others.

Eon stood rigid but expectant. Brinda’s violet eyes were sharp and calculating. Gian remained unreadable, half-shadowed.

Victor’s presence filled the space again.

”So,” he said smoothly, clapping his hands once as if concluding a minor meeting, ”where was I? Oh right. Will you join me, Gian?”

Before answering, Gian spoke first.

”If I follow you... will I still choose my contracts?”

Victor’s eyes gleamed.

”You will not kill the innocent.”

”Of course not.”

”You will bring assassination requests to me.”

Gian hesitated.

”And if you deny them?”

”Then they were not worthy of your blade.”

Silence.

Gian studied him carefully.

”I... will join you.”

Victor’s hands came together in applause.

”That’s great.”

Eon straightened instinctively.

Brinda watched with a faint smile.

Victor’s voice shifted, becoming sharper—commanding.

”Now that the three of you are my subordinates, let’s act quickly.”

He turned to Brinda.

”The first order of business. I want you to stop selling illegal drugs.”

Her brows rose slightly.

”Instead,” Victor continued, ”we will start buying and selling information.”

Brinda’s smile deepened slowly.

”Information,” she murmured. ”That’s far more profitable in the long term.”

”And far less destructive,” Victor replied calmly.

Eon exhaled slowly, something fierce settling into his chest.

Gian nodded once.

The underworld of Fantom City shifted that night—not through bloodshed, but through direction.

Victor stood at its center.

Not as a tyrant.

Not yet as a king.

But as something far more dangerous—

A man rewriting the rules.