Journey to Become the Zenith

One Man Against an Endless Legion

THUD!

THUD!

THUD!

The battlefield fell strangely quiet.

Victor continued forward without even glancing back.

To him...

Those monsters had been nothing more than blades of grass standing in his path.

The surrounding undead surged toward him from every direction.

Victor welcomed them with a smile.

His scythe began moving again.

Not wildly.

Not recklessly.

Elegantly.

Each rotation flowed seamlessly into the next.

His feet danced across the ruined battlefield with impossible grace.

A sidestep.

A spin.

A low sweep.

An upward slash.

Every movement linked naturally into another as though he were performing an elegant dance rather than slaughtering thousands of undead.

Heads flew.

Bodies collapsed.

Broken bones scattered across the earth.

No attack was wasted.

No movement contained unnecessary effort.

Watching him fight felt almost unreal.

It wasn’t brutality.

It was artistry.

The Death Scythe became an extension of Victor’s own body, moving exactly where his thoughts directed it.

To the soldiers watching from the walls...

Time itself seemed to slow.

One young knight rubbed his eyes.

”...Am I dreaming?”

Another soldier quietly muttered,

”I think... we’re already dead.”

”Maybe this is the final illusion before crossing into the afterlife.”

Nobody answered.

Because every person present secretly wondered the same thing.

Their combined efforts over two days hadn’t achieved what Victor accomplished within mere moments.

The battlefield had become his stage.

And every undead soldier...

Was simply another crop waiting to be harvested.

Victor strode forward through the battlefield without slowing his pace.

The Death Scythe traced smooth arcs through the air, its dark blade humming softly as though it delighted in every life it harvested. Wherever the blade passed, skeletal warriors shattered into fragments, undead mages were cut apart before they could complete a single chant, and towering ogres crashed to the ground one after another.

There was no hesitation.

No wasted movement.

Only absolute precision.

Every step Victor took seemed carefully measured, every swing flowing naturally into the next until his battle resembled an elegant dance rather than a desperate struggle for survival.

The eerie green flames burning inside the undead’s empty eye sockets flickered wildly as countless monsters charged him from every direction.

They never reached him.

One skeleton raised its rusted sword.

Victor ducked beneath the strike, his scythe spinning behind his back before slicing through three enemies in a single sweeping motion.

Another undead lunged from the left.

Without even looking, Victor shifted half a step.

The claws missed him by mere inches.

His elbow struck the creature’s jaw, staggering it backward, before the heel of the Death Scythe carved cleanly through its neck.

Bones exploded across the battlefield.

Behind him, two undead mages simultaneously completed their spells.

Twin spheres of ghostly green fire shot toward his back.

Victor merely twisted his body.

The fireballs passed harmlessly beside him.

His scythe continued rotating without interruption.

The two mages were split apart before they even realized he had moved.

On the city walls...

Silence dominated.

No one dared cheer.

No one dared blink.

Ruby’s emerald eyes widened with disbelief.

”...He’s not using brute force.”

Natalia slowly nodded, unable to look away.

”No...”

”Every movement is calculated.”

”There isn’t a single unnecessary action.”

The two Holy Maidens had witnessed countless masters throughout their lives.

Sword Saints.

Court Magicians.

Chosen Heroes.

Even divine messengers blessed by the Dragon War Goddess Kia and the Goddess of Justice Jenna.

Yet none fought like this.

Victor wasn’t relying solely on overwhelming strength.

He was controlling the battlefield itself.

Every enemy became part of his rhythm.

Every attack was turned against another.

Every opening was exploited before it even fully appeared.

Max laughed loudly despite blood still flowing from his wounds.

”Hahaha!”

”That’s it!”

One of the academy instructors beside him couldn’t contain his amazement.

”Headmaster...”

”I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Max’s smile widened.

”Neither have I.”

”And I’ve spent my entire life studying the sword.”

His eyes remained locked on Victor’s every movement.

”The frightening part isn’t his speed.”

”It isn’t his strength.”

”It’s his understanding.”

Another instructor frowned.

”Understanding?”

Max nodded.

”He already knows where every enemy will move before they move.”

”He isn’t reacting.”

”He’s controlling the flow of battle.”

Even Ramona Redcliffe stood frozen.

As the head of the Redcliffe Family, she had fought countless battles.

She prided herself on reading battlefields.

Yet watching Victor left her speechless.

”He makes war look...”

She searched for the right word.

”...Simple.”

An elderly Redcliffe warrior standing beside her slowly smiled.

”No.”

”He makes impossible things look simple.”

Far below...

Victor continued advancing.

Hundreds of undead rushed toward him.

Hundreds fell.

The battlefield became littered with shattered bones, broken weapons, and dissipating clouds of corrupted mana.

The speed at which he erased the undead surpassed everything the defenders had achieved over the previous two days combined.

The Holy Maidens watched in stunned silence.

Ruby whispered,

”He’s still not using mana...”

Natalia’s expression stiffened.

”Not even a little.”

That realization disturbed them more than anything else.

Every physical feat had limits.

Without reinforcing the body through mana, no ordinary human could move like this.

No ordinary human could leap dozens of meters.

No ordinary human could cut through ogre kings as though they were made of paper.

Yet Victor continued doing exactly that.

Again...

And again...

And again.

Brinda stood motionless, her violet eyes fixed on Victor’s figure as he carved effortlessly through the endless tide of undead.

A faint frown slowly formed on her beautiful face.

”...What is that power?”

She could clearly sense that Victor wasn’t reinforcing his body with mana.

Yet every movement carried overwhelming physical force.

Each step shattered the ground.

Each swing of his scythe effortlessly cut through monsters that normally required several elite warriors to defeat.

It made no sense.

Eon, leaning against the battered city wall while gripping his blood-soaked weapon, overheard her murmur.

”You noticed it too?”

Brinda slowly nodded.

”It isn’t mana...”

Her gaze never left Victor.

”But... it isn’t any bloodline ability I’ve ever seen either.”