Journey to Become the Zenith-Chapter 53: A Smile He Didn’t Notice

A Smile He Didn’t Notice

Victor felt a faint irritation lingering in his chest from Albion’s stupidity, like the aftertaste of something bitter. Yet beneath it—unexpectedly—there was something warmer.

He had controlled himself.

For once, the urge hadn’t swallowed him whole.

There had been no need for Videl’s soft voice reminding him to hold back. No one had to grip his sleeve or call his name to anchor him. He had stood there, faced insult and arrogance, and ended it cleanly—without blood.

That alone made something in him strangely light.

A rare feeling.

And so, with the academy behind him, Victor walked toward the Adventurers Guild with an ease in his steps that he himself barely registered. The streets of Fantom City bustled as usual—vendors shouting, horses clattering against cobblestone, the scent of roasted meat and metal mingling in the air—but for once, the noise did not grate against him.

Lane walked beside him, watching quietly.

She noticed it immediately.

Loose arms hung by his sides instead of tight muscles pulling at the joints.

Something about his look felt off. It lacked edge, like a blade left too long in the rain.

His lips -

He was smiling.

A shadow lingered, thin as breath, yet unmistakable. It stayed.

She blinked.

"Why are you happy, Victor?"

A foot lifted, then hung in place. Caught short by her words, he froze. His hand rose without thought. Skin met fingertips - checking, somehow, as though proof were needed.

He was smiling.

Last time it occurred - was it really then?

He waved a hand lightly, dismissing it. "Nothing, Lane. I’m just in a good mood."

Lane watched his face. Golden eyes held a quiet look - nearly pleased. Yet she’d seen him before. A smile always meant he had plans.

Yet silence held him tighter than words ever could.

That was enough for her to stop asking questions.

They resumed walking.

A hush came over Lane after a pause, her gaze shifting. Wind swept pieces of dark hair past her cheek while words formed - this time quieter, measured. Her tone had changed without warning.

"By the way, Victor... do you think what you did was right?"

His eyes flicked toward her, puzzled. What even is she referring to?

"At the entrance of the academy," she said carefully. "Rejecting Principal Max like that. And humiliating that boy... Albion."

Victor slowed slightly. "What do you mean?"

Lane’s brows drew together faintly. "Do you think what you did—humiliating him—might make Videl’s life at the academy difficult?"

That made him pause.

He hadn’t considered that angle.

Lane continued, her voice steady but concerned. "You trained us. I know how strong we are. But Albion is from a noble family. I heard from my mother—noble households have very thick pride. If they want revenge for today’s humiliation... they might not target you directly. They could go after Videl. Or pressure her in Acedmy through family his influence."

Victor looked ahead silently for a few steps.

Then he smiled.

"Lane," he said gently, "do you know something?"

She asked, "What?"

"You and Videl... I trained both of you. And I guarantee both of You can go toe-to-toe with veteran knights. So why worry?"

Lane shook her head slightly. "I know that. I trust in your training. But Victor... that boy comes from a powerful family. Nobles don’t always fight head-on. They use influence. They use tricks."

Victor stopped walking completely this time.

He turned to face her.

His expression was calm—but something deeper stirred beneath his golden eyes.

"Do you really think they’d dare?"

Lane frowned. "How can you be so sure?"

Victor’s voice lowered, smooth and certain. "Principal Max isn’t a fool. That old man knows what I’m capable of. He knows provoking me is not wise."

Lane blinked.

"And he also knows Videl is mine."

There was no possessiveness in his tone—just fact.

"When he allowed Albion to fight me, he knew what the result would be. He wanted to see my strength. Now the academy knows. The nobles know. If they want to move against Videl... they understand they’ll have to deal with me."

Lane stared at him.

"What do you mean?"

Victor’s lips curved faintly.

"I displayed just enough."

He glanced toward the distant academy towers visible over rooftops.

"I showed them that if they want to come after my people... they need to fight me first. And their chances?"

His gaze sharpened.

"Are slim."

For a brief second, something darker surfaced in him. Not rage. Not bloodlust.

Battle instinct.

Lane felt it.

It wasn’t loud.

It was heavy.

She hesitated before speaking again. "But Victor... what if they use underhanded tactics?"

Victor stopped her gently with a single line, spoken in a tone so calm it made the air colder.

"Then Fantom City will see a river of blood."

Lane’s breath caught.

He wasn’t threatening.

He was stating a possibility.

And somehow, that was worse.

The weight of his words lingered between them. Victor held her gaze for a moment longer before the intensity faded. He shook his head lightly and smiled again, softer this time.

"Forget it. Let’s go."

Lane nodded slowly and resumed walking beside him.

But inside her thoughts churned.

Why is Victor smiling again? Did something happen after that fight?

That opponent was weak. Too weak to satisfy him. Usually, that would have irritated him even more.

So what made him happy?

I need to know.

If I understand it... maybe I can help keep him like this.

They finally reached the Adventurers Guild.

The massive wooden doors stood open, but a crowd had formed in front of them. Dozens of adventurers were gathered, craning their necks, murmuring loudly. The air buzzed with excitement.

Victor approached one of the men blocking the entrance.

"Hey. What’s happening? Why is everyone gathering at the front door of the Guild?"

The man turned irritably. "What are you s—"

He stopped.

Recognition dawned instantly.

Victor.

The rookie who had fought two days ago and left half the tavern silent.

The man’s anger evaporated.

His throat worked as he swallowed.

Victor repeated calmly, "Did you hear me? Can you tell me what’s going on?"

The man nodded stiffly. "U-Um... we’re gathering because the guild master’s secretary quit. She went back to adventuring."

Victor understood immediately.

Clara.

Long blonde hair. Purple eyes. Sharp tongue.

He could almost picture the way she’d roll her eyes at this scene.

Lane’s eyes flicked toward the crowd, noticing the eager expressions of several men.

Victor’s good mood thinned.

Clara wasn’t officially his woman.

But in his mind—

She was already within his circle.

And seeing this pack of wolves gathered to stare at her?

Unpleasant.

The air shifted.

It started subtly.

A pressure.

Victor’s killing intent seeped outward—not wild, not explosive.

Controlled.

Focused.

Only those gathered in front of the guild doors felt it.

Suddenly, conversations faltered.

Laughter died.

A chill crawled up spines.

It felt like standing at the edge of a battlefield before the first scream.

One man’s knees weakened. Another instinctively reached for his weapon before realizing there was no visible threat.

The crowd parted unconsciously.

Victor stood calmly at the center of it all, golden eyes slightly dimmed.

He hadn’t raised his voice.

He hadn’t drawn a blade.

But the message was clear.

Move.

Now.

He then started to emit a strong killing intent on the surrounding people. Victor had good control so he was able to spread his killing intent only to the people who were gathered in front of the adventurer’s guild.