Journey to Become the Zenith

Chapter 267: Leader’s Decision

Leader’s Decision

"So what should we do now?" Eon asked as he couldn’t wait anymore. Lane looked at the impatient Eon and said nothing, as she continued to think. Looking at her reaction made Eon mad.

The battlefield had fallen into an uneasy silence.

A cold wind swept across the plains, carrying with it the smell of blood, burnt bone, and corrupt mana. In the distance, countless undead continued their relentless march. They weren’t rushing forward. They didn’t need to.

They knew their prey was exhausted.

The surviving fighters stood scattered around Lane. Some leaned against damaged shields. Others sat on rocks while trying to catch their breath. Their armor was dented. Their weapons were stained black from endless fighting.

Forty.

Only forty remained.

The number felt like a cruel joke.

Eon’s jaw tightened.

"We’re just standing here?"

No response.

Lane’s gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon.

She was calculating.

Estimating.

Searching for even the smallest possibility.

Yet every path she examined ended the same way.

Death.

"What the hell are you doing?! If you don’t have any plans just say it already!" Eon shouted, in which the others except for Brinda wanted to support him, but kept quiet since they knew that only death awaited them if they defied Lane.

Several warriors lowered their heads.

Others exchanged uncertain looks.

One injured adventurer muttered under his breath.

"He’s not completely wrong."

A mage beside him quickly elbowed him.

"Shut up."

"But—"

"Just shut up."

Brinda stepped forward.

Her purple eyes narrowed.

"Eon."

"What?"

"You think yelling will somehow improve our situation?"

Eon clicked his tongue.

"It won’t. But pretending everything is fine won’t either."

Brinda looked ready to continue arguing, but Lane finally moved.

Everyone immediately fell silent.

Even Eon stopped talking.

Seeing Eon fuming mad, Lane spoke in her usual indifferent tone.

"It’s as you say. I no longer have any plans."

The words landed heavily.

Several people’s faces instantly turned pale.

A few looked away.

Others stared at the ground.

Lane continued calmly.

"We weren’t even able to delay them for a whole day and we are already in this dire situation."

The truth hurt.

Because nobody could deny it.

They had fought harder than they ever had before.

They had ambushed supply groups.

Destroyed hundreds of undead.

Killed ogres.

Eliminated necromancers.

Yet the enemy army barely seemed smaller.

The gap between them was simply too great.

Lane slowly looked at each survivor.

She saw fear.

Exhaustion.

Regret.

Determination.

Every emotion imaginable.

For a brief moment she remembered Victor.

If he were here...

Would he find a way?

The thought crossed her mind.

Then she immediately pushed it aside.

Victor wasn’t here.

She was.

And responsibility belonged to her.

A wounded mercenary suddenly laughed bitterly.

"So that’s it?"

Nobody answered.

The man stared toward the approaching darkness.

"I always thought I’d die in some tavern after drinking too much."

A few exhausted chuckles escaped from nearby fighters.

The laughter lasted only a moment.

Then silence returned.

Lane looked toward them once more.

Her expression remained calm.

Yet her eyes had become softer.

Almost imperceptibly.

"I will allow those who wish to retreat, to leave now."

The survivors froze.

Nobody expected those words.

Even Eon looked surprised.

A middle-aged warrior frowned.

"Leave?"

Lane nodded.

"I will delay the enemy by myself."

The entire battlefield fell silent.

Even the distant sounds of marching undead seemed to fade into the background.

Brinda stared at her.

"By yourself?"

Lane nodded.

Her voice remained calm and unwavering.

"Yes."

A cold wind swept across the ruined battlefield.

Broken weapons jutted from the scorched earth. Fragments of armor lay scattered among countless shattered bones. Far in the distance, beneath the dark night sky, an endless sea of undead continued its relentless advance.

Lane had considered every possibility she could think of.

She was not Victor.

She wasn’t some brilliant strategist capable of turning impossible odds into victory.

What she possessed was far simpler.

Strength.

Determination.

After weighing every option, she had reached a straightforward conclusion.

The fewer things she needed to worry about, the better.

No formations.

No coordination.

No allies she needed to protect.

No distractions.

If she fought alone, she could move however she wished.

Attack.

Retreat.

Ambush.

Disappear.

Strike again.

A lone blade was far harder to trap than an entire army.

As soon as she finished speaking, nobody moved.

Nobody left.

That actually surprised her.

Lane had genuinely believed some of them would choose to retreat.

Instead, every single person remained where they stood.

Eon let out a loud snort.

"Leave?"

He rested his giant battle axe against his shoulder.

"Have you completely lost your mind?"

Lane looked at him.

"You would have a better chance of surviving."

"Maybe."

Eon shrugged.

"But then Victor would hunt me down himself."

Several nearby fighters immediately nodded.

One mercenary raised his hand.

"I agree with that."

Another pointed at Eon.

"For once, he said something intelligent."

Eon’s eyes narrowed.

"Want me to hit you?"

The man instantly looked away.

Lane tilted her head slightly.

"He won’t."

Everyone blinked.

Lane’s expression remained completely indifferent.

"I simply won’t tell him."

For a moment, several ordinary fighters visibly relaxed.

A few even released breaths they didn’t realize they had been holding.

"Oh."

"That actually makes sense."

"Good point."

"Then we’re safe."

A brief silence followed.

Then Brinda pinched the bridge of her nose.

Eon sighed heavily.

The two exchanged a long look. freewebnσvel.cøm

A look filled with the exhaustion of dealing with someone hopelessly dense when it came to certain things.

Finally, Brinda spoke.

"You really don’t understand, do you?"

Lane frowned slightly.

"Understand what?" freewebnσvel.cøm

Eon barked out a laugh.

"It doesn’t matter whether you tell him."

He pointed his axe toward the distant horizon.

"The moment Victor comes back and discovers we left you behind, we’re dead."

Several fighters immediately nodded again.

"Absolutely dead."

"Without question."

"Not even a funeral."

Lane remained silent.

Brinda stepped forward and folded her arms beneath her chest.

"Besides, we’ve already fought together."

"We trained together."

"We bled together."

"We built Fantom City together."

Her gaze swept across the gathered fighters.

"This isn’t some temporary alliance anymore."

A quiet murmur of agreement spread through the crowd.

Brinda looked back at Lane.

"We chose to stand under the same banner."

Eon grinned.

"And people who share the same banner don’t abandon each other when things get ugly."

The giant warrior planted his axe into the ground with a heavy thud.

"If we’re going to die, we’ll die fighting."

A few nervous laughs spread through the group.

The oppressive atmosphere lightened slightly.

For the first time since the undead army appeared, the fear weighing on everyone’s shoulders seemed a little less suffocating.

Lane looked at the faces surrounding her.

Tired faces.

Determined faces.

Fearful faces.

Yet not a single one had stepped back.

For a brief moment, something warm stirred inside her chest.

A feeling she rarely experienced.

Trust.

Then she quietly looked toward the approaching sea of undead once more.

Seeing her reaction Brinda folded her arms beneath her boobs and shook her head.

"You seriously think we’re abandoning you?"

Lane answered honestly.

"Yes."

Brinda stared at her for several seconds.

Then she sighed...