Journey to Become the Zenith

A Warrior’s Promise

The whole square was silent.

It was not the silence that comes when a large group of people are waiting for someone to say something important. It was a deeper, heavier silence, as if the world itself were holding its breath.

The murmuring of the crowd died away until there was only the rustling of the restless evening breeze.

At the heart of the square, Eon stood on the worn stone platform.

He was gripping the pommel of his giant battle axe, his palms damp with nervous sweat. He had felt his heart pounding so hard in his chest that he was sure the whole world could hear it.

All that was in the past.

He took a steady breath.

The fear was still there, locked deep inside, but it no longer had power over him. It was replaced with something else entirely. Something stronger.

Determination.

Behind him, Victor remained silent.

His arms were folded across his chest, his stance relaxed, confident. His eyes, the golden color of which glowed softly in the dimming light, watched Eon without a trace of doubt. He didn’t have to say anything.

Didn’t have to do anything, really.

All he did was give a small, almost imperceptible nod.

Eon straightened, raising his head high and lifting his voice so that it carried over the whole square.

”I am here to fight for you... my dear citizens.”

He let the words hang in the heavy silence.

”I am here to fight... for your future.”

There was no applause. No cheers. Only the hushed murmur of hundreds of stunned faces.

Some wore black, the color of mourning, their faces drawn and pale. They had lost loved ones just days ago, and the grief was still fresh in their hearts. An elderly woman clutched a frayed old scarf, her son’s last possession. A young boy held a large, battered shield, far too big for his small frame, the last gift from his father. Several men wore broken swords, their sheaths empty, their owners long gone.

Every single person there bore the same sorrow.

Grief.

Raw.

Unhealed.

Eon’s gaze moved across the crowd, lingering on each expression.

He saw exhausted mothers.

Children trying to be brave.

Old veterans who had survived countless battles yet now looked utterly defeated.

He felt the weight of every pair of eyes.

”I know...”

His voice softened.

”...many of you lost someone during the recent attack.”

He paused.

Long enough for the words to settle.

”I know your hearts are filled with pain.”

”They should be.”

His jaw tightened.

”I know what it feels like to stand where you stand.”

He looked at them not as a prince or commander...

...but as someone who had suffered alongside them.

Then the warmth vanished from his expression.

His eyes sharpened.

”And who is responsible for all of this?”

The question echoed through the square.

No one answered.

People glanced at one another.

Some lowered their eyes.

Others clenched trembling fists.

A few opened their mouths as if they wanted to speak, only to fall silent again.

Everyone waited.

Eon inhaled deeply.

When he spoke again, his voice carried the force of a hammer striking steel.

”It is the system that failed you.”

”It is the nobles who betrayed you.”

His words thundered across Fantom City.

”They accepted the taxes you earned through sweat and sacrifice.”

”They promised to keep your families safe.”

”They swore to defend these streets.”

”They swore to protect this city.”

He slowly swept his gaze across the sea of faces.

”But where were they...”

His voice dropped into a low, cutting growl.

”...when death stood outside your gates?”

The silence became suffocating.

”They were running.”

”They abandoned the very people they had sworn to protect.”

”They loaded their treasures onto carriages.”

”They gathered their gold.”

”They protected their own lives...”

”...while leaving yours to be taken.”

Every sentence landed like a blow.

People who had been staring blankly at the ground slowly lifted their heads.

The grief in their eyes began to change.

Pain became bitterness.

Bitterness became resentment.

Resentment slowly ignited into anger.

An older man lowered his head, his shoulders trembling.

”I lost my younger brother...”

His voice cracked before he could finish.

Not far away, a woman hugged her daughter tightly against her chest.

”My husband said he’d come home before sunset...”

She swallowed hard, tears spilling freely down her cheeks.

”He never did.”

A blacksmith stared at his rough, scarred hands.

”They left us...”

he muttered through clenched teeth.

”They ran before the monsters even reached the walls.”

Another voice joined in.

”They told us help was coming.”

”It never came.”

”They lied to us.”

”They abandoned us.”

The whispers spread like ripples across still water.

One voice became five.

Five became twenty.

Soon, the entire square buzzed with restrained fury.

Eon didn’t interrupt.

He let the silence between their words grow.

He wanted them to remember.

To feel it.

To acknowledge the truth they had buried beneath their grief.

Only when the murmurs began to settle did he speak again.

His voice was quieter now.

Not because it lacked strength...

...but because it no longer needed to shout.

”My knight...”

He glanced over his shoulder.

Victor stood exactly where he had been from the beginning, calm and unmoving.

”...Victor...”

Eon’s eyes returned to the people before him.

”...and I...”

He placed a hand against his chest.

”...stood with you.”

He extended one arm toward Victor.

Victor calmly stepped forward from behind the platform.

The moment he appeared...

Recognition spread through the crowd.

One of Brinda’s hidden subordinates immediately shouted from among the citizens.

”That’s him!”

”I saw him defeat the Necromancer Alibaba!”

Another voice quickly followed.

”He saved us at the western wall!”

”He fought alone!”

”He protected everyone!”

Soon dozens of voices echoed through the square.

”It really was him!”

”The young warrior!”

”The man who destroyed the undead army!”

”He saved Fantom City!”

The whispers grew louder.

Many citizens looked toward Victor with gratitude.

Others still carried traces of fear after witnessing his overwhelming strength.

Victor simply stood quietly.

He neither smiled nor acknowledged the praise.

He allowed Eon to remain the center of attention.

Eon nodded respectfully toward Victor before turning back to the crowd.

”Yes.”