Journey to Become the Zenith-Chapter 111: Blade That Refuses to Leave

Blade That Refuses to Leave

"Then please tell me, what is it that you want?"

Lane spoke without lifting his voice. It didn’t sharpen. It didn’t even carry frustration.

It felt off because of that.

There she stayed, still as stone, while the thick air around her cut close without making her flinch.

Inside, though—

If this fails... I’ll have to report everything to Victor.

Her fingers twitched faintly at her side.

And that means... explaining why I didn’t bring Brinda.

That alone annoyed her more than the possibility of killing everyone in this mansion.

Victor’s instructions had been clear.

If negotiations fail—wipe them out.

Simple. Cold. Efficient.

But Lane didn’t want to do that.

She was able - just chose not to.

That was her reason. Not wishing it ruled her out. She stayed away. Her choice stood firm.

Victor’s pen hovered, then struck the line hard - once, again. The Redcliffe family stood apart, not simply another entry lost in the crowd.

They mattered.

Yet something about it gave her pause.

Opposite stood Ramona Redcliffe - youthful, alert, burdened by a family’s faded honor - her gaze steady, saying nothing.

"Didn’t you hear me?" Ramona said, her tone hardening just a fraction. "I said you may leave."

Lane didn’t move.

Not even a step.

"I won’t leave until you tell me how I can convince you to join us."

That finally broke something in the room.

Not visibly—but in the air.

Ramona frowned slightly, studying her more carefully now.

Is she serious... or just stupid?

No tremble. No anger. No pride.

Just... persistence.

It was unsettling.

"I already said that we won’t be joining," Ramona said, her voice turning colder. "Xavier, please escort our guest outside."

The butler moved instantly.

Smooth. Silent. Controlled.

A professional.

He stepped forward, reaching for Lane’s arm—not aggressively, but with quiet authority.

That was his mistake.

Before his fingers could even brush her sleeve—

Lane moved.

No warning.

No shift in posture.

Her right hand came up in a clean, precise arc—

Thud.

A sharp, controlled strike landed directly on Xavier’s throat.

The sound wasn’t loud.

But the effect was immediate.

His breath cut off.

His eyes widened—

—and then his body collapsed, hitting the ground as he clawed weakly at his neck, struggling to breathe.

Silence.

Not shocked silence.

Dangerous silence.

Ramona’s eyes widened just slightly.

That single movement told her everything.

Too fast.

Too clean.

No wasted motion.

She wasn’t just strong.

She was trained to end fights before they began.

Ramona opened her mouth—

"—"

But the order never came out.

Because Lane had already moved again.

Her foot lifted—

—and then slammed down.

Mana surged.

A low, cracking sound echoed through the room as the floor beneath her shattered.

Wood splintered. Stone cracked.

The ground gave way.

A sudden cave-in swallowed the hidden men beneath the floor, cutting off their positions instantly. Cries of pain and shock erupted below, then faded into muffled groans.

The ambush—gone in a single step.

The room hadn’t even finished reacting when the next attack came.

From behind the paintings—

Arrows.

Three of them.

Fast. Precise. Lethal.

They tore through the air—

—and stopped.

Not blocked.

Caught.

Lane’s hands moved like they had already known where each arrow would be.

Her fingers closed around the shafts mid-flight.

No hesitation.

No strain.

Just control.

For a split second, the room held its breath.

Then—

She flicked her wrists.

The arrows reversed.

Faster than they came.

Three sharp impacts followed.

Not fatal.

Precise.

Each arrow struck the right hand of its shooter.

Cries of pain echoed behind the walls as bows dropped uselessly from numb fingers.

Everything... ended in seconds.

Too fast to process.

Too clean to understand.

Ramona stood there, frozen—not in fear, but in stunned calculation.

This... is what she held back earlier?

Lane didn’t look proud.

Didn’t look satisfied.

She simply walked forward.

Step by step.

Slow.

Controlled.

Like the outcome had never been in doubt.

Ramona straightened instinctively.

Even now—even after everything—

She didn’t step back.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t lower her gaze.

Fallen noble or not...

She was still Redcliffe.

And that meant something.

Lane stopped in front of her.

Close enough now that the weight of her presence felt suffocating.

"I was ordered to annihilate your whole family if you didn’t comply with Victor’s wishes," she said calmly. "But I decided not to do that."

No threat in her voice.

No pride.

Just fact.

"I will give you one more chance."

A slight pause.

Her eyes didn’t waver.

"Tell me what I need to do to make you join under Victor’s flag."

This time—

Ramona didn’t speak immediately.

Because now... she understood.

That earlier hesitation?

It wasn’t weakness.

It was restraint.

She could have killed us... from the beginning.

Her gaze flickered briefly toward Xavier, still struggling on the floor.

Toward the broken ground.

Toward the bloodied archers.

Then back to Lane.

And she didn’t.

A slow breath escaped her.

Inside her mind, thoughts collided.

If someone like this follows Victor so completely...

Then what kind of man is he?

Her fingers tightened slightly against the armrest of her chair.

Stronger than her?

If that was true—

Then this wasn’t just an opportunity.

It was a turning point.

Revenge.

Honor.

Survival.

Everything her family had lost... could be reclaimed.

Or—

Everything could end here.

If I refuse... we die.

Not today.

Not instantly.

But inevitably.

Her jaw tightened.

And if I accept...

Her thoughts sharpened.

Then we step into something dangerous.

Victor wanted all fallen nobles.

That wasn’t charity.

That was a move.

A plan.

And none of the possibilities that came to her mind were simple... or safe.

Still—

What choice did she really have?

Lane stood there, waiting.

No pressure.

No impatience.

Just presence.

Minutes passed.

Heavy.

Silent.

Then finally—

Ramona spoke.

"Fine."

The word came out steady.

Resolved.

"I only have a few conditions before my family joins your group."

Her eyes locked onto Lane’s.

Sharp now.

Focused.

"But before I do that, can you please come back tomorrow, since I need to talk to the other family members regarding this situation."

A pause.

Her voice softened—just slightly.

Not weak.

Just... honest.

"Once I finish doing that, I will tell you my conditions, is that alright with you?"

Lane didn’t even think about it.

"Alright, I will return tomorrow."

No hesitation.

No negotiation.

Just acceptance.

For a brief moment, their eyes met.

Two completely different people.

One carrying the weight of a fallen house.

The other... carrying the will of a man who could change everything.

Then Lane turned.

And walked away.

No rush.

No backward glance.

Just steady steps echoing through the broken room.

Behind her—

The Redcliffe family remained.

Bruised.

Shaken.

But alive.

And for the first time in a long while—

Standing at the edge of something that might finally change their fate.