Journey to Become the Zenith-Chapter 117: The Truth Hidden Beneath the Soul

The Truth Hidden Beneath the Soul

Victor remained seated in the heart of the Mystery Woodland, unmoving like a statue carved from silence itself.

The mist drifted slowly around him, brushing against his skin like cold breath. Leaves rustled faintly overhead, and somewhere in the distance, a beast let out a low, echoing cry—but none of it reached him.

His mind was far away.

Lost.

Drowning in the visions.

Victor was confused.

Not the kind of confusion that came from lack of knowledge—but the kind that gnawed at the core of one’s existence. The kind that made even someone like him pause.

Why now?

Why these visions?

Why him?

His brows tightened slightly, the only visible sign of disturbance on his otherwise calm face.

...This isn’t random.

That much he knew.

Everything he had seen carried weight. Meaning. Intent.

And more than anything—

Familiarity.

Victor exhaled slowly, his breath merging with the cold mist.

There’s something inside me.

Something I haven’t seen yet.

He didn’t like unknowns.

But this one... wasn’t something he could crush with strength.

It was deeper.

Buried.

My soul...

That thought lingered longer than the rest.

His fingers twitched slightly on his knees.

’At first I pushed it aside, since no matter how long I think about it I knew there will be no answer. Still I wonder why did I reincarnate with my memories intact? The only beings that I could think of that can mess with a soul from someone as powerful as me, would be Gods or ancient dragons. Actually that’s only to my knowledge, there might be other beings capable of such feats.’

His thoughts flowed quietly, sharp and controlled.

Not panic.

Not fear.

Just analysis.

But beneath that calm—

There was curiosity.

Dangerous curiosity.

Victor’s mind drifted back to the visions.

Those... things.

Those beings.

The ones that didn’t feel like creatures, but like concepts given form.

His jaw tightened slightly.

Those weren’t normal.

Those were... something else entirely.

Primordial.

Ancient beyond understanding.

He remembered the way space twisted around them... the way existence itself seemed unstable in their presence.

...Those things could probably reverse time itself.

The thought didn’t feel exaggerated.

It felt accurate.

And that alone—

Was enough to make even Victor pause.

For a brief moment, silence stretched.

Then—

Another thought surfaced.

Those people...

The ones in the visions.

His eyes remained closed, but his focus sharpened.

Every single one of them—

Strong.

Ridiculously strong.

Unnaturally so.

Victor recalled the youngest among them.

A boy.

Barely twelve.

Yet—

Stronger than him.

Stronger than his current self.

A faint crease formed between his brows.

...That’s absurd.

And then—

The older one.

The man who stood against that incomprehensible being.

That man...

Victor’s lips curled faintly.

That one was different.

That one... was dangerous.

Even now, remembering him sent a strange thrill through his veins.

All of them—

Young.

Powerful.

Unreasonable.

Though Victor himself was no ordinary person—far stronger than most adults in this world, far beyond what anyone his age should be capable of—

It wasn’t enough.

Not compared to them.

They were... on another level.

A quiet realization settled in.

...They’re as strong as I was when I was Anos.

No—

Even that wasn’t entirely accurate.

Some of them...

Were stronger.

Victor didn’t feel inferior.

He didn’t feel threatened.

But—

He acknowledged it.

Calmly.

Honestly.

Then—

His thoughts shifted.

To something more... interesting.

Magic.

Victor recalled the way some of them casted spells.

His breathing slowed further, his mind replaying every detail.

That... was different.

It wasn’t just strength.

It was method.

Technique.

Understanding.

Some of them—

Didn’t rely on their own mana.

They reached out.

Pulled from the world itself.

The surrounding air.

The environment.

And then—

Filtered it.

Used it.

Victor’s fingers curled slightly.

...That shouldn’t be possible.

Or rather—

It shouldn’t be practical.

In principle, mana was everywhere.

In the air.

In the earth.

In water.

In every living thing.

But—

It was impure.

Chaotic.

Unstable.

No one used it directly.

Because to do so—

Required purification.

And the only way Victor knew—

Was to cycle it through the body.

Refine it.

Make it his own.

That was why he sat here now.

Absorbing.

Refining.

Expanding.

The Mystery Woodland made it easier—its mana was thicker, cleaner, richer than anywhere else.

But even so—

It took time.

Effort.

Control.

Yet those people—

Skipped all of that.

They didn’t need vast reserves.

Didn’t need overwhelming internal mana.

They simply—

Used what was already there.

Victor let out a quiet breath.

...That’s efficient.

More than that—

It was revolutionary.

If he mastered something like that—

His combat capability would rise to another level entirely.

No limitations.

No exhaustion.

Endless supply.

His eyes remained closed.

But his mind sharpened further.

I need to learn that.

Not desire.

Not greed.

Just a simple decision.

Then—

His thoughts shifted again.

To the other side of those visions.

The warriors.

The swordsmen.

Victor’s lips curved faintly.

...Now those were interesting.

Most of them weren’t just one thing.

They were both.

Magicians.

And swordsmen.

Balanced.

Deadly.

Precise.

And among them—

One stood above the rest.

The one who fought the dragon.

Victor could still see it clearly.

The way he moved.

The way he controlled the flow of battle.

No wasted motion.

No hesitation.

Every strike—

Perfect.

His swordsmanship wasn’t flashy.

It wasn’t wild.

It was...

Complete.

His offense and defense blended seamlessly.

Like two sides of the same coin.

He didn’t switch between them.

He was both.

At all times.

Attacking felt like defending.

Defending felt like attacking.

It was impossible to predict.

Impossible to read.

Victor’s fingers tightened slightly.

...That’s the ideal form.

A style where reaction and intention became one.

Where the body moved before thought.

Where every motion flowed naturally into the next.

He could still remember it—

The moment the dragon struck.

The man didn’t panic.

Didn’t retreat.

He simply adjusted.

Shifted.

And turned defense into offense in the same breath.

Flawless.

Victor’s breathing slowed further.

Almost... nonexistent now.

...If I reach that level...

He didn’t finish the thought.

He didn’t need to.

The answer was obvious.

Silence returned.

Deep.

Heavy.

The forest around him continued to breathe.

Mist curled.

Leaves whispered.

The world moved.

But Victor—

Remained still.

Unmoving.

Unshaken.

Yet beneath that stillness—

Something was changing.

Slowly.

Quietly.

Like a blade being sharpened in the dark.

His understanding was deepening.

His perspective expanding.

And somewhere...

Deep within him—

That hidden presence stirred again.

Faint.

Subtle.

But undeniable.

Victor didn’t open his eyes.

But a quiet thought surfaced.

...So that’s how it is.

Not confusion anymore.

Not entirely.

Now—

There was direction.

And beneath it—

A growing hunger.

Not for power.

Not exactly.

But for understanding.

For truth.

For the answer hidden deep within his own soul.