Journey to Become the Zenith

The Second Day of Despair

In Clara’s home the moment Kary and Livia heard the warning bells, they quickly locked the door of the house, closed the curtains and tried carrying their mother to the basement. It took a bit of time but they were able to reach the basement safely.

Every toll of the warning bell echoed like a funeral hymn across Fantom City. The air itself seemed to tremble as distant explosions mixed with the horrifying cries coming from outside. Dust drifted from the ceiling with each heavy impact somewhere beyond the walls, making the old house feel as though it might collapse at any moment.

Neither sister dared to look through the windows. They had already seen enough before shutting the curtains—the streets that had once been filled with neighbors and merchants were now consumed by panic. The eerie green flames burning inside the undead’s hollow eyes haunted their memories.

Their mother’s body remained limp between them. Though she offered no response, both girls handled her with the utmost care, refusing to let fear make them careless.

Once they were there as instructed by their sister, the two said the chant taught to them by Clara. Their voices were shaky at first, stumbling over unfamiliar words, but they forced themselves to continue. The ancient incantation carried a strange rhythm that gradually settled into their hearts.

As the final syllable left their lips, both sisters suddenly felt warmth flow through their bodies before an unexpected wave of exhaustion washed over them.

They felt a bit tired after chanting and was surprised when they saw a yellow aura surround the basement door.

The golden barrier spread across the entrance like flowing sunlight before hardening into a translucent shield covered with faint runic patterns. It shimmered quietly, radiating a comforting warmth that stood in complete contrast to the deathly chill outside.

This was the very first time Clara’s two sisters ever used magic.

Under ordinary circumstances, the two would have celebrated excitedly. They would have laughed, asked countless questions, and proudly told their sister that they had finally cast their first spell.

But today...

There was no joy.

No excitement.

Only silence.

Only fear.

Outside, the horrifying sounds never stopped.

The clash of steel.

The collapsing of buildings.

The distant battle cries of soldiers.

And somewhere among them...

The desperate screams of ordinary people.

Nina who was sitting beside their mute unmoving mother was tearing up because of the growing fear within her. The idea of undead swarming the town was enough to scare anyone, but hearing screams from outside made it extra scary.

Livia hugged her knees tightly, trying to stop herself from trembling. Every scream that echoed through the streets made her imagine someone else’s family being torn apart.

She bit her lip so hard it almost bled.

”...Please...”

Her voice was barely louder than a whisper.

”Everyone...”

She couldn’t even finish her sentence.

As Livia was being scared, Kary, on the other hand, gripped the long sword given to her tightly.

Her fingers whitened around the hilt.

The weapon suddenly felt much heavier than before.

She knew she wasn’t a warrior.

She wasn’t an adventurer.

She had never taken a life.

Yet if someone broke through that glowing barrier...

She would fight.

She then gently patted her little sister’s head before forcing a reassuring smile onto her face.

”Don’t worry. I’ll protect you and Mom.”

Her voice was steady.

Too steady.

Livia looked at her older sister, searching her eyes.

Seeing how calm on the outside Kary was felt herself calming down as she nodded her head.

”...Okay.”

She trusted her.

She always had.

Unaware that Kary’s leg was actually shaking a bit beneath her robe.

Every distant roar made her heart skip.

Every crash outside tightened her chest.

She wanted to cry.

She wanted to hide beside her younger sister and pretend none of this was happening.

But she couldn’t.

Someone had to stay strong.

Just as Clara always had.

Kary took a slow breath, refusing to let the fear consume her.

’Big sis... Father... Please give me the courage to protect Mom and Livia.’

She silently prayed, not for victory...

Only for enough courage to stand until the end if fate demanded it.

...

The second day of the undead raid had become even more merciless than the first.

The battlefield outside Fantom City had transformed into a land of blood, broken weapons, and burning siege engines.

Dark clouds covered the sky while thick smoke rolled across the horizon.

The undead army advanced without fear.

Without fatigue.

Without mercy.

Their hollow eyes burned with eerie green flames as endless ranks marched forward through arrows, spells, and holy light. Every fallen corpse only strengthened the enemy, threatening to rise again under the corrupt cemetery-cold mana manipulated by the enemy necromancers.

The humans of Fantom City were losing.

Badly.

Despite their desperate resistance, the enemy never seemed to stop.

Each wave was followed by another.

And another.

Some undead were able to get into town and a few non-combatants have died.

Knights raced through the streets trying to intercept the monsters before they reached civilians. Adventurers fought beside city guards without caring about rank or status anymore.

Every surviving defender understood one thing.

If Fantom City fell today...

There would be no tomorrow.

Max had been gravely injured after battling several Ogre Kings.

Blood soaked his armor, and every breath sent waves of pain through his battered body.

As the headmaster of the Knight Academy, he had stood at the front from the very beginning, protecting both instructors and students.

Even now, refusing to retreat, he continued issuing commands while leaning on his weapon for support.

His body screamed for rest.

His will refused.

Nearby, Brinda’s breathing had become increasingly uneven.

The powerful mage’s robes were stained with dust and blood.

Her reserves of mana had nearly run dry after unleashing one devastating spell after another against the endless tide.

Her vision blurred from exhaustion.

Even lifting her staff demanded tremendous effort.

Yet she continued chanting.

One spell.

Then another.

Because stopping meant allowing the undead to advance.

Eon was faring no better.

Standing atop the battered city walls, he fought like an unbreakable shield.

Each strike shattered undead after undead, but countless claws and rusted blades continued cutting into his flesh.

Blood streamed down his arms.

Fresh wounds overlapped older ones.

Even with his incredible vitality, the constant loss of blood was slowly dragging him toward his limit.

Still...

He never stepped back.

Every inch he yielded would cost innocent lives behind him.

His roar echoed across the battlefield as he threw another undead monstrosity from the walls before planting his feet once more.

Elsewhere, the two Holy Maidens continued shining like beacons amid overwhelming darkness.

Holy light burst repeatedly across the battlefield.

One fortified scaling tower after another collapsed beneath their divine miracles, denying the undead another chance to overwhelm the walls.

Each successful strike bought the defenders precious minutes.

Minutes purchased through unbearable strain.

Sweat rolled down their pale faces.

Their breathing grew increasingly ragged.

Their hands trembled after every prayer.

Even blessed by their respective deities, they still possessed mortal bodies.

Bodies that knew pain.

Bodies that grew tired.

Bodies that eventually reached their limits.

Yet neither woman abandoned her duty.

They exchanged determined glances before raising their sacred powers once more.

Another pillar of holy light descended from the heavens.

Another siege tower crumbled into splinters.

The defenders answered with renewed battle cries despite their exhaustion.

Hope had become fragile.

Thin as a thread.

But as long as even one person continued fighting...

Fantom City still stood.

And so, even in these grim circumstances, they fought on.