Journey to Become the Zenith

The Principal Who Stepped Forward

Out of nowhere, the kids froze when they spotted Principal Max chatting with regular townspeople. A crowd started buzzing near the entrance, stirred by what just went down.

Floating high, the morning sunlight spilled across the tall academy walls, touching smooth rock and shiny symbols cut deep into the arched gate. From overhead, kingdom banners waved in the crisp wind, marked with Skyfall’s sign - cloth cracking low, almost like quiet war beats felt far away.

Folks with titles, plus those hoping to earn one, packed the open space between the walls. Rich fabrics draped over shoulders, badges gleamed on jackets, shoes shone like glass - everyone showed off what they had. Right there by the entrance, though, near where the path met stone, three people waited in clothes that looked ordinary.

And before them... the Principal himself.

”Why is the Principal personally greeting those commoners?”

”Is there something special about those three?”

”What the hell?! How could this happen? Even when the son of a Duke came, the Principal didn’t greet him.”

The whispers started as murmurs. Then they became ripples. Then waves.

Eyes widened. Fans froze mid-motion. Conversations died mid-sentence.

The students were now in a state of confusion as they asked each other the same question—who were those three?

Unaware of the students’ thoughts, Max—was fully focused on Victor.

Even without the enchanted glasses that could trace mana flow, Max could feel it.

That pressure.

That suppression.

Victor stood calmly, black hair shifting gently in the wind, golden eyes steady and unreadable. He looked young—too young. Handsome in a sharp, almost unfair way. But what Max felt had nothing to do with appearance.

The feeling he got when he saw Victor was the same as the feeling he got back in the day when he was still roaming from battlefield to battlefield. The same suffocating density in the air before armies clashed. The same metallic taste at the back of the throat.

The feeling Victor gave Max was the same feeling he got from war.

It was as if Victor was the physical embodiment of war itself.

Not chaos.

Not madness.

War—disciplined, inevitable, absolute.

Max’s old heart trembled—not in fear.

In exhilaration.

With someone like Victor as his student, he might not only be able to train the strongest knight...

He might be able to train the strongest mortal being in history.

And that thought alone sent heat through his aging veins.

While Max was assessing Victor, Victor was doing the same.

At first glance, the old man didn’t look particularly overwhelming. His frame was lean, almost frail under the layered academy robes. His hair had long since surrendered to silver.

But mana never lied.

Victor’s senses expanded silently, brushing against Max’s aura.

It wasn’t vast.

It wasn’t explosive.

But it was refined.

Sharp.

Concentrated.

Max’s mana was like a sword—thin, precise, honed to a single killing point. There was no waste, no excess.

Victor’s golden eyes narrowed slightly.

His control...

Victor hadn’t seen anything like it since his reincarnation.

For a fleeting moment, something stirred inside him.

He wanted to fight him.

Not out of arrogance.

But curiosity.

How would that blade-like mana clash against his own overwhelming force?

But then—

Victor’s sensing deepened.

He traced the flow beneath the surface. The interruptions. The faint decay woven between channels.

His expression shifted—barely.

The old man was sick.

Mana circulation disrupted in places. Organs burdened. Life force thinning like smoke in wind.

At best, ten years.

At worst...

Months.

Victor’s fingers curled slightly at his side.

Disappointment settled quietly in his chest.

He didn’t want to fight a dying man.

There was no honor in defeating someone whose body was already betraying them. No excitement in crushing something already cracking.

Unaware of Victor’s thoughts, Max stepped closer.

The courtyard seemed to still with him.

”May I know your name, young one?”

Victor met his gaze. Golden eyes met seasoned gray.

For a moment, silence stretched between them—not awkward, but heavy.

Victor considered.

Names carried weight.

And this old man felt like someone who understood that.

”I’m called Victor.”

Max’s lips curved into a faint, pleased smile.

”It’s nice to meet you, Victor.”

Victor exhaled quietly. It was obvious what this old man wanted to say.

”Is that all? I have other things that I need to do, so good day.”

His tone was polite.

But distant.

Lane, standing beside him, glanced at him briefly. Her long black hair flowed down her back, her dark eyes soft yet attentive. She understood that tone. When Victor decided something, it was nearly impossible to sway him.

They were about to leave when—

”Wait!”

Max’s voice carried authority. Not loud—but it carried.

Victor paused, turning slightly.

”What? Do you have something more to say?”

Another faint sigh escaped him, not irritated—just mildly tired.

Max’s gaze sharpened.

”Do you want to become knights? You and the lass can join your friend Videl in the academy. You won’t even need to pay for anything. Food, lodging, and even equipment—everything would be free. So what do you think?”

Gasps erupted among the students.

Free admission?

Free lodging?

Free equipment?

For commoners?

Even nobles had to earn their place here through brutal examinations.

Lane blinked softly. She wasn’t tempted by luxury—but she glanced at Victor anyway. If he wished to stay, she would stay. If he wished to walk, she would walk beside him.

Victor’s expression didn’t change.

”Sorry, I’m not interested.”

Silence.

Then—

A wave of disbelief.

The students who were listening were stunned.

Principal Max had just offered privileges that others would kneel for. Opportunities that shaped destinies.

And this commoner—

Refused.

Without hesitation.

Without gratitude.

Without even a flicker of longing.

He said it as if being a student here was an inconvenience.

Murmurs grew sharper.

”Who does he think he is?”

”Does he even understand what he’s refusing?”

”Arrogant...”

Some clenched their fists.

Others stared at Victor with open hostility.

Max studied him carefully.

”Not interested...” he repeated softly, almost amused.

Victor met his gaze calmly.

”I don’t pursue titles. And I don’t need protection.”

The wind stirred again.

Max’s eyes gleamed faintly.

”You speak boldly for someone standing before the gates of the Skyfall Kingdom’s greatest academy.”

Victor tilted his head slightly.

”And you offer generously to someone who hasn’t asked.”

The exchange drew even more attention.

Lane felt the tension building around them like tightening strings. She stepped half a pace closer to Victor—not fearful, just steady.

Max chuckled.

”Confidence is good. But the world is larger than you think, young man.”

Victor’s golden eyes sharpened.

”I’m aware.”

The air felt charged.

Max folded his hands behind his back.

”Very well. If you do not wish to become a knight...”

His gaze didn’t waver.

”Then how about becoming a teacher instead”