Journey to Become the Zenith

Steel, Smiles, and Unspoken Things

”Lane should be back soon.”

Clara nodded.

But inside, her thoughts were far less steady.

Why does he look at me like that... and then not?

Why does he notice everything except the obvious?

She tightened her grip on her shield unconsciously, the leather strap creaking softly beneath her fingers.

Across the guild hall, adventurers continued their chatter. Some registered new requests. Others boasted about minor victories, exaggerating them into legends. Tankards clinked. Chairs scraped. A bard in the corner tuned a worn lute.

But whenever someone’s gaze drifted toward Victor and Clara—

It quickly drifted away.

They had been present when Victor released his killing intent earlier. They remembered the weight of it. The way their knees trembled.

No one dared stare at Clara now.

No one dared approach.

A silence settled between Victor and Clara—not awkward, not hostile.

Just lingering.

Victor didn’t like lingering silence.

”Hey, Clara.”

She blinked slightly. ”What?”

”Well,” he said casually, tilting his head, ”Lane’s taking longer than expected. How about you tell me the story behind your sword and shield? The gladius and the shield—there’s something about them.”

Clara stiffened at the sudden shift.

He wasn’t joking.

He wasn’t teasing.

He was genuinely curious.

She looked down at her weapon, fingers brushing the hilt with quiet familiarity. For a moment, her expression softened.

She took a slow breath.

”This is my family’s heirloom,” she began quietly. ”But in truth... none of us know where the sword and shield originally came from.”

Victor’s brows lifted slightly.

”They’ve simply been passed down from one generation to the next. Father to daughter. Mother to son. For centuries. The origins of the weapons have been lost in time.”

Her voice lowered.

”There’s a story, though. A legend my grandmother used to whisper to me when I was young.”

Victor leaned slightly closer.

”They say one of my ancestors once fought alongside a wandering knight who bore no name. A man who defeated a corrupted warlord possessed by evil spirits. After the battle, the knight vanished—but left behind this sword and shield. My ancestor never spoke of the knight’s identity. Only that his presence felt... ancient.”

Victor’s golden eyes narrowed faintly.

Ancient.

He could feel it now—subtle mana lingering within the metal. Not overwhelming. But layered. Deep.

”I see...” he murmured.

The silence returned.

After a few moments, Clara broke it.

”Speaking of equipment, why don’t you and Lane buy new ones?”

Victor glanced at her.

”I know the weapon you used to defeat the Void Tyrant Hydra was nothing short of legendary,” she continued, arms folding lightly. ”But Lane’s bow and arrows look handmade. And your leather armor...” Her gaze swept over him briefly. ”It’s so worn it barely serves its purpose anymore.”

Victor looked down at his old armor.

It had seen battles. It carried scars.

But she wasn’t wrong.

”I guess we could buy new equipment,” he admitted. ”I do have a lot of money at the moment... Sure. Let’s do that.”

He tilted his head slightly.

”So tell me, Clara. Where can I buy the best armor in this town?”

Her expression shifted instantly—professional.

”There are several shops. Some specialize in heavy plated armor—excellent defense, poor mobility. Others focus on enchantment resistance. Some prioritize flexibility. It depends on your fighting style.”

As she explained each shop’s strengths and weaknesses, Victor watched her again.

Not her body.

Her focus.

The way her eyes sharpened when discussing combat efficiency.

The way her fingers moved slightly when describing balance and weight distribution.

He found it... appealing.

Just as she finished outlining the final shop—

Footsteps approached rapidly.

Victor had already sensed it.

Lane.

She appeared almost abruptly beside them, breath steady but eyes faintly sharp.

From a distance, she had seen Clara and Victor speaking closely. Seen Clara’s posture. Seen Victor’s attentive expression.

She didn’t like it.

But she swallowed the feeling.

She already knew.

Victor would choose her. Eventually.

She had to coexist.

”Lane,” Victor said smoothly, as if nothing unusual had occurred. ”Did you hand the money to our friend?”

She nodded and handed him a sealed letter.

”This is from that friend.”

Victor slipped the letter into his inner pocket without opening it.

”I’ll read it later.”

He glanced between the two women.

”Now that we’re all here, how about we head to one of those armor shops? Clara, if you would, please lead the way.”

He made an overly dramatic sweeping gesture, stepping aside with exaggerated politeness.

Lane rolled her eyes faintly.

Clara gave him a flat look.

”You’re ridiculous.”

”Occasionally,” he admitted with a grin.

---------

They left the guild together, stepping into the lively streets of Fantom City.

The city was a blend of stone towers and narrow alleys, banners fluttering overhead. Merchants called out prices. Blacksmiths hammered glowing steel. The scent of smoke and oil lingered in the air.

Clara led them toward a corner of the city where skilled craftsmen operated.

The armor shop she chose wasn’t the largest—but it was respected. The owner, a thick-armed craftsman with scarred hands, glanced up as they entered.

Racks of armor lined the walls. Silver. Steel. Enchanted leather. Polished greaves and pauldrons catching the light.

Victor walked slowly between displays.

He ran his fingers lightly along a plated shoulder guard.

Balanced.

He tested a chest piece.

Light.

He glanced at Clara.

She caught him looking.

”What?” she asked.

”Do you approve?” he said lightly.

She examined him critically as he fitted enchanted silver armor over his torso, adding plated shoulder guards and silver greaves.

He chose not to wear gauntlets.

”They’ll interfere with my spellcasting,” he muttered.

When he finally stepped back—

Something shifted.

Victor had always been handsome in a sharp, understated way. But now, with polished silver armor hugging his frame, shoulders broadened by the plated guards, waist defined by the fitted chest piece—

He looked different.

More refined.

More dangerous.

Lane’s breath caught slightly.

Clara blinked once.

Twice.

He looked... radiant.

Not flamboyant.

Not decorative.

Just... right.

Victor noticed their silence.

”Well?”

Lane recovered first.

”It suits you.”

Clara crossed her arms.

”It’s functional.”

Victor smirked faintly.

”That wasn’t what I was asking.”

Clara’s lips twitched despite herself.

”Don’t let it get to your head.”

Lane stepped closer and adjusted one of his shoulder straps lightly.

”It does make you look... more imposing.”

Victor leaned slightly toward Clara.

”And what do you think?”

She held his gaze a second longer than necessary.

”...It works.”

But her eyes betrayed a different thought.

He looks... unfair.

Lane noticed.

Jealousy flickered.

But she forced it down.

Next came her turn.

Lane selected a tight-fitting leather armor reinforced at vital points, paired with silver boots. She added a silver gauntlet to her left arm—the arm she used to hold her bow.

When she stepped out—

Victor paused.

The leather accentuated her slender build. Her long black hair fell smoothly over her shoulders. Her posture was confident.

”You look ready for war,” he said quietly.

Lane’s cheeks warmed faintly.

The shopkeeper coughed awkwardly.

”Fine choices. I’ll give you a discount.”

Victor paid without hesitation.

Clara watched the exchange.

There was warmth in Victor’s eyes when he looked at Lane.

It pricked something inside her.

Annoying.

Afterward, they moved to a weapons shop.

Lane selected a new bow—sleek, balanced, superior to her old handmade one. The arrows were reinforced, straighter, cleaner.

Victor tested the draw strength.

”It’ll do.”

Lane smiled softly.

Once fully equipped, they stepped back into the sunlight.

Victor glanced at both of them.

Silver armor gleaming faintly.

Leather fitted and sharp.

Steel shield steady.

For a brief moment, standing at the city gates of Fantom City—

They looked like a true party.

Not beginners.

Not wandering rookies.

But something... rising.

Without another word, they left town and headed toward the northwest mountains, toward the unknown threat waiting in silence.