Journey to Become the Zenith

Storm Beneath a Calm Sky

While Videl was in her room, getting ready for what’s to come, a group of people were nearing Fantom City. The sky above the road was pale and open, the kind of quiet morning that made distant movement feel heavier than it should. Hooves struck the earth in a steady rhythm, dust rising in faint clouds behind armored riders. Their presence wasn’t loud—but it didn’t need to be. The weight of trained soldiers moving with purpose carried its own kind of pressure.

These people were some of the top men of various noble families. Even without banners raised high, their armor, posture, and formation revealed their origins. Each of them carried themselves with the confidence of those who were used to being obeyed. They had all gathered in Fantom City to acquire Videl’s magic weapon.

But beneath that shared goal—

There were different intentions.

The only family that had another agenda aside from the magic weapon were the Saulons, the family of Albion.

Their formation rode slightly apart from the others, more disciplined, more contained. There was no unnecessary chatter among them, no restless shifting. They moved like a unit that had been tempered through real battle—not just trained for it.

They came here not only to acquire the magic weapon that could absorb mana-based attacks, but they also came here to punish Albion for making their family look bad. Reputation, to noble families like theirs, was not just pride—it was currency. And Albion had spent it recklessly.

They also came to see what kind of person was audacious enough to actually fight one of their own.

At the front of the Saulon group rode a man whose presence quietly anchored the entire formation.

The man in charge of the people who came today was Albion’s older brother, Shawn Saulon.

At twenty-two years old, Shawn had already carved out a name that reached beyond his family. His physique alone set him apart—broad-shouldered, well-built, with a presence that made him seem larger than he actually was. But it wasn’t just his body. It was the way he held himself—upright, controlled, alert.

Nothing about him was careless.

He was the eldest of the Saulon children of the main family. Unlike his younger brother Albion, who had been consumed by his obsession with the sword, Shawn was something far more balanced—and far more dangerous.

He was a complete warrior.

He was good with a sword, magic, bow and arrow, strategy, and other such things that could help him in war. Where Albion chased strength through a single path, Shawn built his strength across all of them.

And because of that—

He adapted.

The wind brushed lightly against his dark hair as he looked ahead, eyes narrowing just slightly as Fantom City grew closer.

He said nothing at first.

But his gaze moved.

Observing.

Measuring.

Shawn was the youngest knight commander of the kingdom. A title earned not through inheritance, but through performance. He had proven himself in the field—again and again.

He had a total of two hundred knights under him, and six hundred soldiers.

And more importantly—

He knew how to use them.

”He was also among the nobles who stood with the Queen during her rise—those who supported the use of monsters in her ascension—and backed her vision of war against every neighboring nation.”

A dangerous stance.

One that required strength—

And conviction.

Due to the matter at hand being out of the norm, the Saulon family sent in the best of their younger generation. This wasn’t just about retrieving a weapon or disciplining a reckless sibling.

This was—

An evaluation.

They wanted to see how Shawn would respond to something unpredictable. Something messy. Something that couldn’t be solved through brute force alone.

This was a test.

And Shawn knew it.

In this mission, Shawn brought fifty-nine of his well-trained knights. Not an overwhelming force—but more than enough to assert control if things escalated.

More than enough—

To handle nobles who thought too highly of themselves.

The group slowed slightly as they neared the outskirts of the city. The noise of distant activity began to reach them—merchants, carts, voices. Life, continuing as usual.

But beneath it—

Shawn felt something else.

Something subtle.

He turned his head slightly.

His voice came out calm, but firm.

”Bring six men with you, and find out everything you can about the person called Victor. Once you’re done, head straight to the academy.”

The knight beside him straightened instantly, his armor shifting with a faint metallic sound. There was no hesitation in his response.

”Yes, my liege.”

He saluted sharply, then signaled to six others. Without delay, they broke formation and rode ahead, disappearing into the deeper parts of the town.

Shawn watched them go for a brief moment.

Then—

He shifted his gaze back to the remaining fifty-two men.

His expression didn’t change.

But his thoughts did.

’I don’t like the feeling I’m getting from this town.’

It wasn’t fear.

It wasn’t uncertainty.

It was something quieter.

Sharper.

’Most of the lower nobles have come to take the magic sword away from the girl named Videl...’

His fingers flexed slightly against the reins.

’They want to elevate their positions.’

That part was expected.

Predictable.

’I’m sure they’ll cause trouble...’

His eyes narrowed just slightly.

’But this...’

A faint pause.

’This feels like something else.’

He exhaled quietly through his nose.

’Something more dangerous.’

The thought lingered.

Not fully formed.

But persistent.

”Tch...”

A quiet click of his tongue.

Barely audible.

’How troublesome...’

His jaw tightened slightly.

’Damn it...’

His gaze hardened.

’This is all because of that stupid little brother acting without thinking things through.’

There was no anger in the loud sense.

No outburst.

A low burn that never quite fades. It lingers without shouting, simply staying put. Not loud, just there - constant, quiet, wearing.

Bold moves by Albion made a small issue spiral -

Into something complicated.

With a small adjustment of his seat, Shawn broke the silence. His words landed on the lieutenant next, voice cutting through the still air.

”Take forty of our men, and separate into two groups. I want you to station yourselves on the northern and southern exits. If you see any suspicious people leaving town, I want you to apprehend them and bring them to me.”

Quiet stayed in his voice. It never lifted.

Didn’t sharpen.

But it carried weight.

The sort where defiance never crossed your mind.

”As you wish, my liege.”

A sharp salute came first. Right after, he pivoted fast, voice cutting through the air with clear instructions. Into two parts the group flowed apart, clean as a knife sliding into still liquid. Off went forty soldiers, stepping in exact rhythm under fresh commands.

Footfalls faded into the distance, splitting apart like streams after rain.

Footsteps faded as Shawn stood still, eyes following their backs until they turned the corner.

One by one.

Until only nine remained behind him.

Silence settled again.

But it wasn’t empty.

It was focused.

He exhaled slowly.

His shoulders easing just slightly.

’Now then...’

His gaze shifted toward the city ahead.

’Let’s go and meet that idiotic brother of mine.’

With a subtle motion of his hand, he urged his horse forward.

The remaining nine followed without a word.

And just like that—

Shawn Saulon, along with his chosen men—

Entered the town of Fantom City.