Cain's lips curved into a faint smile as he faced Tiflos and Orion.
"Very well," he began. "Before anything else, you two must understand how power is structured in our world. As for the truth behind your father's death… that is knowledge reserved for the strong. Our leaders classified it as ultra-restricted. You'll learn it only when you're worthy."
He adjusted his glasses, golden eyes gleaming sharply.
"Every eye releases a visual color—an energy or aura. And all eyes follow five major levels. As you ascend, the color of your pupils evolves… until the fifth level, which transforms not just the eyes, but the entire body."
He raised a hand, drawing an invisible diagram in the air as he spoke.
---
THE FIVE LEVELS OF SIGHT
Level One — Blue Pupils
"The starting point for all of us," Cain explained.
"Barely any energy output. The common eyes humanity is born with."
Level Two — Red Ripple Pupils
"They awaken moderate energy. Those who reach this level can qualify for infantry roles, or stable mid-tier jobs."
Level Three — Silver Pupils
"The peak of ordinary human capability. Their strength is monstrous. Ten Red pupils together cannot trouble a single Silver."
Level Four — Golden Pupils
"Those who surpass humanity itself," Cain said, his voice deepening.
"Walking calamities. Even a battalion of Silvers cannot defeat a single Golden—unless through strategy and deception. They stand just below the absolute apex."
Tiflos narrowed his eyes.
"And the fifth?"
Cain's smile sharpened.
Level Five — The Absolute Seers
"A realm entirely different," Cain said, almost reverently.
"Those who reach it are called the Absolute Seers—mythical beings with perfect visual abilities."
He paused.
"Their eyes are not white like ours… but pitch-black. Black irises, symbols of infinite visual potential."
Orion blinked.
"Black…?"
"Yes. Black. But their pupils may vary in color—green, yellow, violet, anything. Unlike the lower levels, their pupil colors are not predetermined."
He continued walking.
"Only six people in all recorded history reached this level. Out of billions. They say these beings live for centuries… their faces remaining eternally young. Some even gain forms unlike any human."
---
Cain stopped at the entrance of the facility's dining hall—bustling with elites of every color.
"But," he added, "there are individuals who exist outside these levels entirely."
Tiflos raised a brow.
"Outside the classification? So, there are levels beyond the five?"
"Not levels," Cain said. "But exceptions. The world labels them so because they do not fit the natural rules."
Tiflos frowned.
"What do you mean… different?"
Cain looked him straight in the eyes.
"The source of all visual power is the nervous system. Overuse damages it. Push too far, and you go blind. This rule applies to everyone… except the Absolute Seers. Their power is limitless."
He tapped his temple.
"But for ordinary people to ascend, they must walk a perfect balance. Overuse leads to blindness. Underuse keeps their nerves shallow, preventing advancement. Only controlled pressure on the nerves forces them to evolve."
He folded his arms behind his back.
"Yet every powerful ability comes with a price. Those who wield intense fire-type visual abilities often feel heat in their bodies, or suffer burns internally. The stronger the ability… the harsher its backlash."
Cain's voice lowered.
"Except for a rare few who stand between Levels Four and Five—called the Pure Golds. Their visual abilities are overwhelmingly powerful, yet their backlash is almost nonexistent."
He wiped his glasses.
"A Pure Gold can only be defeated by another Pure Gold… or an Absolute Seer."
He walked again.
"And then… there are the mutated ones. Born with completely unique pupil colors and terrifying abilities that break the system. They appear with a frequency of 0.01% worldwide. Not much is known about them."
---
As they moved down the corridor, Tiflos's attention drifted toward the training hall.
There, he saw her.
A girl whose beauty was sharp enough to cut through silence.
Straight, unwavering eyebrows—like bridges that would never collapse.
Silver eyes that gleamed with pristine clarity, untainted by anything.
Porcelain skin.
Soft rose-colored lips.
Black silk hair flowing over her shoulders, framing a face carved with cold perfection.
And she was taunting the trainers—effortlessly overwhelming them.
Cain noticed Tiflos staring.
"That is Noor," he said. "She will be your training partner.
As for Orion, he will continue his academic education with our finest instructors."
Tiflos exchanged a brief goodbye with his little brother, then stepped into the training hall.
Immediately, he felt it—waves of energy radiating from Noor.
Strange, refined, and unlike anyone he'd encountered.
She turned to him with a mocking smirk.
"So… you're the new orphan?" she said.
"I heard you got rescued after you tried stealing from someone."
Tiflos kept his voice steady.
"Yes… and you? Why are you here?"
She laughed.
"You're really asking? In a world where the strong devour the weak… I plan to become strong enough to crush everyone who ever wronged me."
Before Tiflos could respond, a trainer approached him.
"It's time to analyze your ability."
They led him to a set of high-tech devices—scanners, neurological monitors, a machine resembling an MRI.
After a series of tests, the results shocked everyone.
His ability was unique.
Cain stepped closer, reading the data.
Cosmic Wave Perception
Tiflos could see—and replicate—every type of wave that existed.
Not only for combat, but communication.
"With development," Cain explained, "you'll be able to connect to phones and devices directly—place calls, send signals, intercept communications—without touching a single device. Just by replicating the magnetic waves."
He looked at Tiflos with genuine awe.
"You are the first in history with this ability. You'll need time to explore it… and we will help you. But for now, you lack combat orientation. We'll solve that."
From across the room, Noor watched them with an unreadable expression before turning away silently.
Cain slipped his glasses back on, a faint smile curving his lips.
He saw potential—massive, terrifying potential—unfolding in front of him.
---