Journey to Become the Zenith

Chapter 135: A Brother’s Judgment

A Brother’s Judgment

Out past the shouting near the school’s entrance, where tempers sparked and egos scraped raw, Shawn Saulon slipped into a quieter kind of fight. This one lived beneath his skin.

There he was, staring at his little brother. Across from him, the boy who once looked up now met his gaze. Silence hung between them, thick with years. The past pressed close without a word spoken. Not far off, memories stirred like dust in sunlight.

Albion.

Out back of the dorms, past the main doors, silence sat heavier - though not alone. Some kids stayed far off, talking low, eyes fixed this way. Air slipped across the yard, just enough to lift grit from between flagstones. That breath brought something tight, thick, hard to shake.

Albion saw him.

For just an instant -

A sudden lightness showed in his expression.

Up went his spine, stiffening like something pulled by wires, face settling into a mask he hoped looked steady. A thin smile slipped through, pride seeping in before the silence could settle too deep.

"Brother," Albion said, stepping forward, voice carrying confidence he didn’t truly feel, "you’ve finally arrived."

A whisper stirred behind his eyes -

Fools, at last, will face their due. The crowd once laughed, now silence comes.

But that thought had barely settled—

Before everything shattered.

Crack.

The sound was sharp.

Violent.

It cut through the air like a blade.

Albion’s head snapped to the side, his vision blurring as pain exploded across his cheek. His body staggered backward, his footing failing him as he stumbled.

For a second—

He didn’t understand what had just happened.

His ears rang.

His thoughts scattered.

Slowly—

He looked up.

Shawn had already dismounted his horse.

He was walking toward him.

Step by step.

Calm.

Controlled.

And terrifying.

Before Albion could react—

A hand grabbed his collar.

Lifted him.

Effortlessly.

And then—

Another slap.

Crack.

You—!"

Crack.

His words never formed.

Another.

And another.

Each strike carried weight.

Not just physical—

But emotional.

"Brother—stop—!"

Crack.

Albion’s voice broke, his pride collapsing with each impact. His face burned, his vision swimming, his body completely at the mercy of the man holding him.

This wasn’t what he expected.

Not even close.

He had known punishment would come.

Of course he did.

But this?

This humiliation?

This raw, unfiltered anger?

He never imagined it.

Shawn’s grip tightened slightly, his eyes locked onto Albion’s trembling figure. There was no hesitation in them. No softness.

Only disappointment.

And something deeper.

"You trash," Shawn said, his voice low, steady—but every word struck harder than the slaps. "Do you understand what you have done wrong?"

Albion’s chest heaved.

His face was red.

Swollen.

His breath uneven.

For the first time—

He felt fear.

Real fear.

"I..." his voice trembled slightly, his pride struggling to hold itself together, "I know my wrongs, brother."

He swallowed.

Forced himself to meet Shawn’s gaze.

"It’s because I lost to a commoner in a fight... that I shamed the family name."

Silence.

Then—

Crack.

Another slap.

Harder than before.

Albion’s body jerked from the force, a gasp tearing from his throat.

"You really are trash!" Shawn’s voice rose—not loud, but sharper now, cutting through the space like steel.

His grip tightened as he leaned slightly closer.

"Losing to an opponent stronger than you—also one that the principal acknowledges—isn’t shameful."

His eyes burned.

"Now initiating a fight against such an opponent, without any proper reason aside from your damn ego being hurt—"

His jaw clenched.

"—that is what’s shameful."

He released Albion.

Letting him fall.

Albion hit the ground hard, breath knocked from his lungs, his hands scraping against stone as he tried to steady himself.

"You’re a disgrace," Shawn continued, turning slightly away, his voice cold now. "You are not fit to be a knight... much less to be my younger brother."

The words landed heavier than anything before.

Albion’s fingers trembled.

His vision blurred again—

But this time, not from pain.

From something breaking inside him.

Shawn stepped forward, his back now facing his brother.

He didn’t look at him.

Didn’t need to.

"You are to quit studying to be a knight," he said, his tone returning to calm authority, "and you are to immediately return home."

A faint pause.

"Once you get home, you will be punished."

The wind passed between them again.

Cold.

Unforgiving.

"I will tell you now," Shawn continued, voice steady, "that the punishment will most likely be that the head—our father—will make you become a soldier for our kingdom."

Albion’s body stiffened.

"You will fight on the battlefield."

Another pause.

Longer.

"And you will die on the battlefield."

The words were not spoken with cruelty.

But with certainty.

"If you somehow miraculously survive," Shawn added, his tone unchanged, "and earn meritorious deeds in battle, you will be allowed to return home."

A breath.

"But if you die in the battlefield..."

He finally glanced slightly over his shoulder.

"Then at least you have contributed something to the kingdom... aside from being a fool with a large ego."

Albion’s face went pale.

Completely.

The arrogance.

The pride.

The illusion of control—

All gone.

"Brother—!" Albion scrambled forward, desperation taking over, his hands grabbing onto Shawn’s leg. "Please—save me!"

His voice cracked.

Shattered.

"Don’t you think this is too much?!" he pleaded, clinging tightly, his dignity forgotten. "I merely fought a commoner—for being rude!"

For a moment—

There was silence.

Then—

Shawn moved.

His leg swung.

Thud.

Albion was kicked away, his body rolling across the ground before coming to a stop.

Shawn turned fully this time.

His gaze—

Cold.

Sharp.

Unforgiving.

"First off," he said, each word deliberate, "the way you are acting—with no pride or dignity—makes you less than the commoners you seem to hate so much."

Albion froze.

"Do you understand," Shawn continued, stepping forward slowly, "that even we—the Saulons—started as commoners?"

His eyes narrowed.

"I don’t understand how you can speak so arrogantly against them... knowing this."

Albion’s lips trembled.

But no words came.

"And you’re telling me," Shawn’s voice dropped slightly, dangerous now, "that all you did was fight a commoner?"

A faint scoff escaped him.

"How stupid do you think I am?"

He took another step closer.

"I had one of my men placed here in the city to guard—and spy on you."

Albion’s eyes widened.

"Obviously," Shawn added coldly, "I’m sure you didn’t notice him."

"When I got here," he continued, his voice growing heavier with each word, "he reported to me all of the idiotic things you have done."

As he spoke—

His anger rose again.

Not explosive—

But suffocating.

"Not only did you fight without proper reason—and lose..."

His fists clenched.

"But instead of trying to improve yourself..."

A step closer.

"To face that opponent again—properly..."

His voice hardened.

"You tried to have Victor killed."

Albion’s breath hitched.

"You used assassins," Shawn continued, his gaze piercing through him. "And when that failed—"

His voice dropped.

Colder.

"You spread rumors."

"About that girl, Videl... the one close to Victor."

His eyes hardened further.

"You tried to use her to get to him... to make him suffer another way."

A step closer.

"And you spread word about her weapon... so the nobles would come after her."

His tone turned cutting.

"You thought that if she got dragged into trouble... Victor would follow."

A pause.

Heavy.

"And he would fall right into it."

Each word felt like a blade.

"So instead of learning from your mistakes," Shawn finished, his voice filled with quiet disgust, "you chose to sink deeper into your own filth."

A pause.

Then—

"I feel ashamed... to have a little brother such as you."

The silence that followed—

Was crushing.

Albion couldn’t move.

Couldn’t speak.

Everything—

Was gone.

After a moment, Shawn exhaled slowly.

His expression calmed.

Not because his anger disappeared—

But because it had settled into something colder.

Controlled.

"I will speak to the Principal regarding your withdrawal from the academy," he said.

His tone returned to command.

"For now... pack your things."

"And wait for me in your dorm room."

He turned.

Didn’t look back again.

Mounted his horse.

With his nine men, he rode away.

Leaving Albion behind.

Sitting on the ground.

Alone.

Staring at his brother’s back—

In a daze.