Journey to Become the Zenith

The Price of Victory

A few hours after the battle, Clara finally regained consciousness.

A dull ache lingered throughout her body as her eyelids slowly fluttered open. The scent of herbs drifted through the quiet room, mixing with the faint smell of smoke that still lingered from the battle outside. Soft light filtered through the cracked wooden window, illuminating the simple infirmary where she had been treated.

For a brief moment, everything felt strangely peaceful.

Then reality came rushing back.

As she slowly sat up on the bed, the first face she saw was Videl sitting beside her. The blonde woman looked exhausted. Dirt and dried blood stained her white sleeves, while faint cuts covered her hands. Even so, relief flashed across her sapphire eyes the moment she noticed Clara had awakened.

”What happened?”

The words escaped Clara almost instinctively.

The instant she asked, fragments of memory crashed into her mind.

The endless tide of undead...

The desperate battle...

Her own injuries...

And then...

Victor.

She remembered the moment he descended onto the battlefield like a blazing meteor, cutting through countless undead as though death itself had become his weapon.

Her breathing quickened.

Clara immediately looked down at herself.

The wounds that should have covered her body were gone.

Not even a scar remained.

Her fingers lightly traced her shoulder where a fatal wound should have been. The skin was smooth.

Her expression gradually filled with disbelief.

”What happened?”

She asked again, this time her voice carried genuine confusion.

Videl let out a long sigh before pulling a nearby chair closer.

”It’ll take a while to explain.”

She calmly recounted everything that had happened after Clara lost consciousness.

She spoke about how Victor had arrived just as the city was on the verge of collapse.

How he had protected everyone standing on the walls.

How he alone had faced the terrifying necromancer Alibaba.

How the sky itself had trembled beneath the collision of impossible magic.

She described the freezing storm that swallowed the battlefield.

The darkness that devoured spells.

The countless attacks that shook the earth.

Finally...

She told Clara how Victor had defeated Alibaba.

Every single word made Clara’s heartbeat grow faster.

”...He defeated him?”

She whispered, almost unable to believe it.

Videl nodded.

”Alone.”

Silence filled the room.

Clara lowered her head.

She had witnessed Victor’s strength before.

She knew he was extraordinary.

But defeating a legendary necromancer capable of commanding an entire undead army...

That was no longer something that could simply be called talent.

That belonged to legends.

Without another word, Clara suddenly threw the blanket aside and stood up.

Her legs immediately trembled beneath her.

The exhaustion still hadn’t completely left her body.

She staggered forward.

Fortunately, Videl reacted instantly, catching her before she could fall.

”You need to rest.”

Videl gently tried guiding her back toward the bed.

But Clara stubbornly shook her head.

”No.”

Her voice was quiet.

Yet firm.

She pushed Videl’s hand away.

”I have to go.”

Before Videl could stop her again, Clara hurried toward the door.

”Clara!”

Videl called after her.

But she never looked back.

...

The moment Clara stepped outside the building, a cold breeze brushed across her face.

She immediately realized she was inside the knight barracks near Fantom City’s defensive walls.

The once orderly military grounds had become chaotic.

Healers hurried from one injured soldier to another.

Knights carried stretchers stained crimson.

Priests continuously exhausted their remaining holy mana to stabilize the critically wounded.

No one celebrated.

No one smiled.

The battle was over.

Yet sorrow had only just begun.

Clara took a deep breath before running toward the residential district.

She hadn’t taken more than a few steps when the first cries reached her ears.

A woman’s desperate scream echoed across the street.

”Where’s my husband? Why isn’t he here? Where did you hide him?”

A weary knight stood before her with lowered eyes.

”I’m sorry... but like I said...”

”Your husband is gone.”

The woman violently grabbed the knight’s armor.

”That’s not funny!”

”My husband can’t be dead!”

”He promised me!”

”He promised he would come back!”

”He told me that he’d come back!”

Her fists repeatedly struck the knight’s chest.

Not hard enough to hurt him.

Only hard enough to express a grief too great for words.

The knight never resisted.

He simply stood there.

His eyes had already become red long before she arrived.

Clara lowered her gaze.

She couldn’t bear to watch any longer.

She resumed running.

...

A little farther ahead, another heartbreaking scene unfolded.

A small boy wandered through the crowd while tightly holding his mother’s hand.

His innocent eyes searched every face passing by.

”Mom...”

”Where’s Dad?”

”I can’t see him.”

The mother froze.

Her lips trembled.

No words came out.

Instead...

She suddenly knelt and tightly embraced her son.

Tears streamed uncontrollably down her face.

The little boy looked confused.

He gently patted her shoulder with his tiny hands.

”It’s alright, Mom...”

”Don’t cry...”

”Don’t cry...”

Those innocent words only caused the woman to cry even harder.

She buried her face against her son’s shoulder, desperately trying not to let him hear her sobs.

Clara clenched both fists.

Her nails dug into her palms.

She forced herself to keep moving.

...

Further down the street...

Another family mourned.

An elderly mother carefully held an old sword wrapped in cloth.

A young knight stood before her with his helmet lowered.

He had delivered the only thing left of her son.

The old woman slowly ran trembling fingers across the worn sheath.

Her voice shook.

”You see what happens if you don’t listen to your mother...”

”I told you becoming an adventurer would be the death of you...”

”See...”

”I told you this would happen...”

”Why didn’t you listen to me...”

She hugged the sword tightly against her chest.

As if embracing her son one final time.

Her cloudy eyes slowly drifted into the past.

”I’ll become an adventurer, Mom!”

”I’ll become the greatest adventurer there ever was!”

”And once I get rich...”

”I’ll buy you the biggest house in all of Fantom City!”

”I’ll fill it with servants so you won’t have to work anymore!”

”I’m sure I’ll become one...”

”The greatest adventurer of them all!”

The bright smile of that cheerful young boy seemed to appear before her eyes once more.

She remembered working day and night, saving every coin she could just to buy him his very first sword.

She remembered the joy on his face when she finally handed it to him.

”Thanks, Mom!”

”With this sword...”

”My adventure begins!”

”This sword will become famous throughout the whole world!”

Now...

The sword had returned.

But its owner never would.

Clara’s chest tightened.

The weight inside her heart became heavier with every step she took.

Without realizing it...

She had begun running even faster toward home.