Journey to Become the Zenith

A Pulse That Shouldn’t Exist

”You’re safer away from them,” Victor said plainly. ”If what you said is true, staying in that village isn’t an option.”

Faces often showed more than words ever could. Still, a flicker of something bright lit his eyes despite the doubt.

A shiver ran through his hands, clutching at the edge of her sleeve like it held him upright.

A small press of her hand landed on his shoulder, soft but sure. Then silence settled between them again.

”You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Head dipping down then up again, the boy agreed without words. Slowly.

A flicker of light caught Victor’s gold-colored eyes. They shone just a little, barely noticeable.

Inside, something stirred.

A fight.

A real one.

His smile returned—sharp, almost vicious.

This quest had turned out far better than expected.

If his hunch was right—

Then something interesting was waiting on that mountain.

He turned his head slightly.

”Lane,” he said calmly, ”check the area first. Make sure there aren’t any more eyes watching us.”

A pause came over Lane, just a split second long. It wasn’t distrust that caused it - rather, the thought of stepping away when he was standing there like that. She stayed rooted, not by fear, but by something quieter.

Still, she nodded.

”Alright.”

Footsteps quiet, she moved between the trees, vanishing into the woods as if the air itself had claimed her.

Clara stayed close to Soren, her voice low, fingers flicking dust off his arm, when Lane began slipping between patches of dark. Outward she went, looping wide, eyes sharp for ripples in magic, snapped twigs, breaths too quiet to be right.

Victor stood still.

Watching.

Thinking.

Then—

A familiar voice echoed in his mind.

”Master,” Diana’s voice purred, low and amused. ”I’m finally done stabilizing the mana we absorbed from the Void Tyrant Hydra... Hmm? What’s this?”

Her tone shifted with interest.

”It seems like you’ve found yourself in quite a situation.”

Victor didn’t outwardly react.

Out loud now, share it, Diana - what clicked for you?

A low laugh curled through his mind, shadowed and quiet.

”It’s nothing much,” she replied lazily, ”but that boy you’re protecting... he’s something like a ghost.”

Stillness stayed on Victor’s face.

Clarify.

”He’s alive,” Diana continued, almost playfully, ”and at the same time he’s not. Basically - he’s dead.”

Into the village, it had never happened before

A flicker crossed Victor’s face - his gaze turned knife-edged.

Dead?

Far off his radar, that detail slipped right by.

What makes you so sure? he said, steady yet sharp. Not a single odd signal coming off him. There’s nothing rotting. Mana stays clean. Nothing on the outside suggests he’s dead.

”You rely too much on what you see,” Diana teased softly. ”You forget what I am.”

She paused.

”I am a spirit born from a scythe forged to reap life itself. I absorbed the Hydra’s void-tainted mana. Blood, death, fading pulses - I feel them intimately.”

Her voice lowered.

”That boy has no blood flowing through him.”

Victor’s breathing remained steady.

Impossible.

”His skin isn’t pale,” Diana continued, amused. ”His body isn’t cold. There’s no rot. But there is no blood rhythm. No current. No pulse. Trust me, master—when it comes to blood, there is no one more sensitive than I.”

Victor’s mind moved quickly.

If she was right—

Then what exactly was Soren?

”I see...” Victor murmured internally.

Clara’s soft voice drifted faintly in the background as she reassured the boy.

”Hm,” Victor thought. ”Then I suppose I need to test something.”

He stepped forward.

Clara was still kneeling, Soren half-hidden against her.

Victor reached down and firmly pulled the boy away from her embrace.

Clara stumbled slightly from the sudden motion.

”Hey! What are you doing?!” she snapped, irritation flashing across her face.

Soren looked up at Victor in confusion.

Victor crouched down in front of him again—but this time his gaze was different.

Focused.

Analyzing.

”Hold still,” Victor said calmly.

He reached forward and grabbed Soren’s wrist.

Clara stepped forward immediately.

”Victor, what are you—”

”Quiet,” he said softly, but firmly.

Lane reappeared silently behind them, her expression unreadable.

”No one followed us,” she reported, then stopped when she saw Victor’s posture.

Victor pressed two fingers against the inside of Soren’s wrist.

Nothing.

No pulse.

He shifted his hand slightly. Checked again.

Still nothing.

He moved his hand to the side of the boy’s neck.

Clara’s brows furrowed.

”Victor?”

No pulse.

His golden eyes darkened.

He tightened his grip slightly, just enough to cause discomfort.

Soren winced—but did not bleed where Victor’s nails pressed faintly into his skin.

Victor’s mind sharpened.

Dead. Yet moving.

Something replaced the blood.

”Diana,” Victor murmured inwardly.

”Yes, master?”

Could this be necromancy?

There was a pause.

”No,” Diana replied thoughtfully. ”There is no cemetery-cold mana like that of a necromancer. This isn’t the work of corrupted grave magic.”

Her tone shifted again.

”It’s something else. Something feeding. Something replacing.”

Victor released the boy’s wrist slowly.

Soren rubbed his arm nervously.

”Did I do something wrong?” he asked softly.

Clara knelt again, placing herself slightly between Victor and the boy.

”What is it?” she demanded quietly.

Victor didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he looked at Soren more carefully.

His breathing pattern.

The faint stiffness beneath natural movements.

”Hey! What are you doing?!” Clara snapped, anger rising again.

Victor didn’t answer her.

His golden eyes gleamed faintly under the shifting forest light.

Something was very wrong with this village.

And whatever waited on that mountain—

It wasn’t just hunting ogres.

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