Journey to Become the Zenith

A Blade Meant to Kill

The nobles finally backed off after hearing what Videl said. They had determined that facing her directly would yield nothing. After acknowledging that the ring was real, the group of nobles apologized. The Principal didn’t take too kindly to their insincere apologies and scoffed at them. Videl didn’t say anything since she knew that this wasn’t the end. These kinds of people would not give up.

Stillness crept through the academy lawns, yet underneath hummed something quiet but sharp, like heat under old cinders. Noblemen dipped their chins slightly - not much - but enough to seem polite, words slipping out even, practiced, empty. Their gazes stayed cold, untouched by what they said. Max stood still, arms crossed tight across his chest, shoulders stiff against pretense. Faces like theirs he knew well: quick to kneel when pushed, eager to name virtue whenever profit followed.

Well now... should saying sorry erase what you meant, life might treat us all a bit gentler, he said low, eyes sharp with scorn, making no move to mask how little respect he held.

A few lords tensed up - yet nobody spoke. Fear held them back. Too much had gone down already. This wasn’t the moment to push.

A soft breeze tugged at Videl’s pale hair while she waited without speaking near his side. Nobles drifted apart slowly, moving off in clusters from the school’s entrance, their footsteps fading into scattered directions. Those blue eyes of hers stayed fixed on them, watching each departure. Seemingly, everything was done - closed, settled, finished.

But she knew better.

This isn’t over.

That thought settled in her mind with cold certainty. People like them didn’t retreat—they regrouped. They waited. They struck when it was safer.

Her grip on Amura tightened slightly, almost unconsciously.

If they come again... I’ll deal with it.

But even as she thought that, another thought lingered beneath it.

Victor...

A faint flicker passed through her eyes.

She didn’t want him dragged into this. Not for something like this.

The courtyard had almost returned to normal when—

A scream ripped the silence apart.

"It’s all because of you!"

Sharp it arrived. Not whole. Pulsing with a wild, jagged energy inside.

A shape darted out of the scattering people before much movement followed.

Fast.

Too fast.

Steel flashed.

A blade pulled halfway during a rush, sunlight sliding along its face while splitting the wind.

A wild look lived in his stare, red and open too far. Not seeing straight, it flickered like fire fed by shame more than anger.

Albion.

Shawn’s younger brother.

Out of sorts, his clothes hung loose, breath catching between words. Not calm anymore - gone was the quiet control he used to wear. Instead, a raw edge showed through, more hunger than rage. The shape of him now leaned toward need, not fury.

He screamed, stumbling ahead, his words breaking mid-air. "You destroyed it all!"

Out came everything, no filter. Straight truth, nothing held in reserve.

Clearly, it stood out right away.

Even though he seemed unsteady, Albion could fight with a blade better than nearly anyone. Not just skilled - something rarer. Sharp in ways that set him apart. One of those rare ones who’d risen far when others stayed behind.

And right now—

He was trying to kill.

The distance between them closed in an instant.

But Videl—

Moved first.

Not consciously.

Not deliberately.

Her body reacted.

Instinct.

The moment she felt that killing intent, something within her snapped into motion. Her muscles tightened, her footing shifted, her breathing adjusted—everything aligning in perfect, practiced response.

Victor’s training.

The endless ambushes.

The sudden attacks.

The suffocating pressure of his killing intent.

All of it—

Had carved this reaction into her.

Her body stepped aside just as Albion’s blade came crashing down where she had stood a moment before. The strike split the air with force, missing her by inches.

And in that same moment—

She turned.

Her eyes sharpened.

Cold.

Focused.

Albion’s back—

Was exposed.

Completely.

A fatal opening.

Her sword moved.

Clean.

Efficient.

Without hesitation.

This wasn’t anger.

This wasn’t emotion.

This was instinct answering instinct.

If someone came at her with that level of killing intent—

Then they had already chosen death.

End it.

Her blade cut through the air—

But before it could land—

A second presence crashed into the space between them.

Clang.

Steel met steel.

The impact rang out, sharp and heavy.

Shawn.

He had moved faster than anyone else present.

His sword intercepted Videl’s strike, stopping it just before it could reach Albion. The force of the clash sent a shock through the ground beneath them.

For a brief moment, the two stood facing each other.

Videl’s gaze was calm—but not soft.

Shawn’s was steady—but firm.

He pushed forward, forcing her back just enough to break the angle of the strike.

That moment—

Was enough.

Behind him, Albion staggered forward, still caught in his frenzy, trying to recover, trying to continue.

"I’ll kill you—!" he started, his voice hoarse, broken.

But he never finished.

Shawn moved again.

A single step.

A sharp motion.

His knee drove straight into Albion’s solar plexus.

The impact was precise.

Controlled.

Devastating.

All the air left Albion’s body in an instant as his eyes widened. The strength left his limbs immediately, his sword slipping from his grasp as his body collapsed forward.

Unconscious.

Just like that.

The silence that followed felt heavier than the fight itself.

Shawn caught his falling body, gripping him firmly before letting out a slow breath.

For a brief moment, he didn’t speak.

His expression didn’t change much—but there was something there.

Something restrained.

Then—

He looked at Videl.

"I’m sorry about what my younger brother has done," he said, his voice steady, direct. "I hope you forgive us."

There was no arrogance in his tone.

No excuse.

Just acknowledgment.

"I know it isn’t much, but I will give you anything as compensation. State your price."

A pause.

His grip on Albion tightened slightly.

"If that is not acceptable... then I have no choice but to fight."

His gaze didn’t waver.

"Since no matter how disgusting and rotten he has become... he is still my younger brother."

A faint exhale.

"Watching him die in front of me... will leave a bad aftertaste."

The honesty in his words hung in the air.

Not pretty.

Not noble.

Just real.

Videl looked at him quietly.

Then at Albion.

Then back at him.

The tension in her shoulders eased—just slightly.

"It’s alright," she said.

Her voice returned to its calm, steady tone.

"No need for that... since no one was really harmed."

Shawn held her gaze for a moment longer.

Then—

He nodded.

No more words.

He bowed his head slightly—once.

Respectful.

Measured.

Then he lifted Albion’s unconscious body and carried him toward his horse. His movements were efficient, practiced. His men moved without needing instruction, preparing to leave.

Before mounting, Shawn turned once more.

He saluted.

First to Videl.

Then to Max.

Clean.

Formal.

Final.

Then—

Without another word—

He mounted his horse.

And left.

His men followed behind him, their figures gradually fading into the distance as the sound of hooves echoed away from the academy.

And just like that—

The courtyard fell silent once more.