Journey to Become the Zenith

Bloodlines and Hidden Thrones

"This my love over here told me." Victor pointed at Videl.

The gesture was casual, almost lazy, yet the effect was immediate.

Every eye in the room turned toward Videl.

For a brief breath, even the murmuring underworld den seemed to go quiet.

Torchlight crackled along the stone walls. The smell of old wood, iron, wine, and smoke lingered in the air. Somewhere deeper in the building men laughed over dice, but in this chamber, silence tightened.

Videl folded her arms beneath her chest, sapphire eyes flickering toward Victor with a look half proud, half embarrassed at being singled out as my love. Lane’s lips tightened almost invisibly at the phrase. Clara noticed. Brinda noticed too.

Victor, meanwhile, merely leaned back in his chair as if he had tossed a pebble into still water and was now watching the ripples.

Seeing Victor had no intention of hiding anything, Videl began explaining.

She told them how she had gained an audience with Queen Amara of Skyfall.

How she survived three strikes.

How the queen had tested her.

How she had been entrusted with the secret of the royal bloodline’s innate power.

Her voice flowed steadily, but as she spoke, even Clara—who once thought of Videl as little more than a country beauty hanging onto Victor’s side—looked at her differently.

Especially Clara.

She remembered the first day Videl arrived in town clinging to Victor almost like a lost child.

And now...

That same woman had stood before the queen.

Had exchanged blows.

Had returned carrying secrets of a dynasty.

Clara’s fingers unconsciously tightened at her side.

How much of Victor’s world have I still not seen?

When Videl finished explaining the bloodline ability, the room sank into thought.

The queen had claimed only males of her bloodline possessed that strange power.

And Eon possessed something nearly identical.

The implication hung heavy.

Like thunder before a storm.

There were objections one could make.

Perhaps the queen was mistaken.

Perhaps others might have similar abilities.

Yet for such a coincidence to exist in the same kingdom...

The probability was almost absurd.

Eon stood unmoving, huge frame rigid.

"I’m part of the royal family?..." he muttered, dazed.

The words sounded foreign even to him.

Victor studied him with golden eyes that seemed to see far beyond flesh.

"Well based on the information we have that’s most likely the case. So what do you want to do Eon? Of course I can still try to expand your mana pool, but the result might just make your physical strength stronger, and your mana pool remain the same. So tell me Eon, what is it you want?"

A faint smirk touched Victor’s lips.

No one noticed.

All eyes were on Eon.

But Victor noticed everything.

The tremor in the giant’s jaw.

The disbelief.

The old buried hunger.

For belonging.

For truth.

For revenge, perhaps.

But Eon did not answer.

For once, the so-called Ox King looked almost... lost.

And before silence turned awkward, Brinda glided forward.

Her long purple hair shimmered under the firelight like silk soaked in moonlight. The high slit of her robe swayed against toned legs as she moved with feline grace.

A smile curved on her lips.

Dangerous.

Playful.

"Oh, even though I’m sure no one in your personal vicinity would dare eavesdrop on our conversation," Brinda purred, voice warm as spiced wine, "how about we go somewhere more secure? Somewhere with a more... comfortable atmosphere. Nice chairs. Softer cushions."

She let her gaze drift over Victor deliberately.

Victor also smiles agreed to her word he said, "Why not? And here This sit here is also uncomfortable I feel tired after all."

Brinda hear victor reply her lips curled.

She leaned closer.

"How about Sir Victor sits on my lap instead? I can offer an even softer seat."

The room froze.

Then Lane’s brows twitched.

Videl narrowed her eyes.

Clara nearly choked.

Victor merely looked up at Brinda and, instead of rejecting it, smiled.

A dangerous smile.

"Your lap?" he said lazily. "Tempting. But I fear if I sit there too long, certain jealous women may draw blades."

Lane stepped forward at once.

"Only may?" she said sweetly.

Videl crossed her arms.

"You’re overestimating how long she’d survive after saying that."

Brinda placed a hand over her heart in mock injury.

"Oh my. Such hostility. I only offer hospitality."

Victor’s eyes glinted.

"Hospitality can be very dangerous in your hands."

She leaned in even closer.

"Only for men who cannot resist."

Victor chuckled.

"Then fortunately, I resist very selectively."

Lane shot him a look.

"Very selectively?"

Videl muttered under her breath, "He enjoys provoking us."

Clara stared between them, utterly wrong-footed.

Why did this feel less like a criminal meeting and more like lovers quarreling over a monarch?

And strangely...

A small irrational irritation stirred inside her.

She did not examine it.

Eon, meanwhile, looked like he wanted to split stone.

His brow twitched.

Finally he snapped.

"Brinda."

One word.

Warning enough.

She sighed dramatically.

"Fine, fine. The giant spoils all my fun."

Eon glared.

"Stop this nonsense."

Then he looked to Victor.

A strange mix of exasperation and reluctant respect passed through his black eyes.

"This matter is too serious for her games."

Victor rose.

Smoothly.

Like a king standing from court.

His golden jacket shifted with the motion, dark cloth catching torchlight.

He looked almost amused.

"Lead the way, then."

Brinda, still not entirely defeated, brushed past Victor close enough for her perfume to drift around him.

As she passed, she whispered so only he heard—

"Later, I’ll make you test whether my lap truly is the better throne."

Victor did not even turn.

But his mouth curved.

Lane saw it.

That did not help.

Videl saw it too.

That helped even less.

Eon muttered something dark under his breath and turned.

Without another word, he guided everyone inside the building.

The deeper chamber lay behind iron-bound doors.

A secure room.

Stone walls.

Heavy timber beams.

Round tables pushed aside.

Large carved chairs.

Oil lamps burned with low amber glow.

Far more comfortable.

Far more private.

And far more dangerous, perhaps.

As they entered, Victor’s gaze swept the chamber once.

Assessing exits.

Angles.

People.

Always calculating.

Always conquering.

Clara caught that look.

And once more she felt it.

That strange unsettling realization.

Victor was far more than an adventurer.

Far more than a swordsman.

He moved as though even shadows belonged to him.

As though this underworld had already become an extension of his will.

And somehow...

Everyone was beginning to orbit him.

Even her.

Brinda claimed a chair with theatrical grace.

Lane deliberately took one near Victor.

Videl took the other side before anyone could contest it.

Brinda raised a brow.

"How territorial."

Lane smiled.

"How alive do you wish to remain?"

Victor laughed outright.

Even Eon looked pained.

"This is why I hate talking politics."

Victor looked toward him.

"No," he said lightly. "This is why life remains entertaining."

And under the amber light, amid conspiracies, bloodline secrets, jealous glances, and buried ambitions...

The next conversation was about to begin.

After saying this Eon guided everyone inside the building.