Journey to Become the Zenith

The Price of Victory (Part 2)

Clara’s breathing grew increasingly uneven as she sprinted through the devastated streets of Fantom City.

Everywhere she looked, the battle had left its scars.

Collapsed buildings leaned against one another as though they could no longer bear their own weight. Burned wagons lay overturned in the middle of the roads. Broken weapons, shattered shields, and torn banners were scattered across the ground, silent reminders of the desperate struggle that had taken place only hours ago.

The smell of blood still lingered in the air.

Mixed with smoke.

Mixed with ash.

Mixed with grief.

Each cry that reached her ears made her heart sink even deeper.

She desperately wanted to believe...

Please...

Please let them be safe...

Mother...

Kary...

Nira...

Please...

She pushed herself harder despite the weakness lingering in her body.

Her vision blurred from exhaustion, yet she refused to slow down.

Every second felt unbearable.

...

As Clara continued running, more scenes of heartbreak unfolded around her.

Several knights carefully carried rows of bodies wrapped in white cloth toward the city square.

Families rushed forward one after another.

Some collapsed the moment they recognized the faces beneath the sheets.

Others stood frozen in silence.

A father quietly removed his helmet before kneeling beside his fallen son.

No tears came.

Only silence.

Sometimes...

Silence hurt far more than screaming.

Nearby, priests softly offered prayers for the departed while exhausted healers continued treating survivors who still clung to life.

Even victory carried a price.

And Fantom City had paid it with countless lives.

...

Clara stumbled over a broken stone.

She nearly fell but caught herself against a cracked wall.

Her breathing became ragged.

Her legs screamed in protest.

Yet she forced herself onward.

”I have to get home...”

”They’ll be waiting...”

”They have to be waiting...”

She repeated those words again and again, almost as if saying them would make them true.

...

Finally...

The familiar street appeared before her.

Normally it would have been filled with children playing and merchants chatting with neighbors.

Today...

It was silent.

Painfully silent.

Her heartbeat thundered inside her ears.

She recognized every house she passed.

Each familiar doorway only made her anxiety grow stronger.

Then...

She saw it.

Her home.

Clara stopped.

Her entire body froze.

The front door hung from a single broken hinge.

Deep claw marks scarred the walls.

Several shattered arrows lay scattered across the yard.

Dark crimson stains covered the stone pathway leading to the entrance.

Time itself seemed to stop.

”No...”

Her lips barely moved.

”No...”

Her voice cracked.

She slowly took one trembling step forward.

Then another.

Her breathing became shallow.

Her fingers trembled uncontrollably.

The metallic scent of blood drifted through the broken doorway.

It struck her like a hammer.

”No...”

Please...

Anyone...

Answer me...

She wanted to call out.

She wanted to shout for her mother.

For Kary.

For Nira.

But her throat refused to obey.

Fear had stolen her voice.

...

Every step toward the house felt heavier than the last.

The floor creaked beneath her boots.

Furniture had been overturned.

Broken dishes littered the floor.

The walls were stained with dried blood.

Signs of struggle covered every corner.

She could almost picture the desperate battle that had taken place inside.

Her heartbeat pounded louder.

Each beat echoed painfully inside her chest.

Her mind refused to stop imagining the worst.

Please...

Don’t let me be too late...

Please...

She slowly walked deeper into the house.

The silence became almost unbearable.

Then...

Her eyes fell upon the basement door.

It had been reinforced long ago to serve as a shelter during emergencies.

Now...

It had been smashed apart.

Splintered wood lay scattered across the floor.

The smell of blood pouring from below was far stronger than anywhere else in the house.

Clara’s knees nearly gave out beneath her.

”No...”

She whispered once more.

She gripped the broken doorway with trembling hands.

Her entire body shook violently.

Every instinct begged her not to continue.

Every instinct screamed that whatever waited below would destroy her.

Yet...

She couldn’t stop now.

Slowly...

She placed one foot onto the staircase.

The old wooden steps creaked beneath her weight.

The darkness below seemed endless.

Each footstep echoed through the silent basement.

Step.

Step.

Step.

The sound seemed unnaturally loud, bouncing off the cold stone walls before fading into the darkness.

Clara’s breathing grew ragged.

Her heartbeat pounded even louder, drumming against her ribs until it drowned out everything else.

There was no wind.

No voices.

No movement.

Only the crushing silence... and the steady rhythm of her own fear.

The deeper she descended, the colder the air became.

Not the ordinary chill of an underground cellar, but a biting cold that crept beneath her skin and settled deep in her bones.

The air itself felt thick, heavy enough to press against her chest and steal each breath before she could fully draw it in.

Then the smell reached her.

Blood.

Old blood.

Its metallic scent hung in the air so densely that it coated the back of her throat, making her stomach twist with nausea.

At last...

She reached the bottom.

Her trembling fingers fumbled for a nearby mana lamp before finally managing to ignite it.

A warm golden glow flickered to life, hesitantly pushing back the darkness inch by inch.

The shadows retreated...

And the first thing the light revealed was a massive pool of dried blood spread across the stone floor.

Clara froze.

Her pupils contracted to pinpoints.

The breath caught in her throat.

For a single, horrifying moment, the entire world seemed to fall silent.

She couldn’t hear her heartbeat.

Couldn’t hear herself breathe.

It was as though time itself had stopped.

Her knees buckled beneath her.

Darkness crept into the edges of her vision, threatening to drag her into unconsciousness.

”No...”

The word escaped her lips as nothing more than a broken whisper.

She bit down on her lower lip with all the strength she had left.

Pain shot through her mouth.

The sharp metallic taste of her own blood flooded her tongue, forcing her mind back from the edge.

”I have to know...”

Even though every instinct screamed at her to run.

Even though terror had wrapped icy fingers around her heart.

She forced herself forward.

One trembling step.

Then another.

Each movement felt impossibly heavy, as though an entire mountain rested upon her shoulders.

Her eyes searched desperately through the dim light, refusing to surrender the last fragile spark of hope still burning inside her.

Please...

Anyone...

Please...

Let someone still be alive...