The week following the awakening of his eyes changed everything.
Ashen discovered quickly that controlling how much others perceived was an art form. His Primordial Sovereign Eyes were always active, always processing, always seeing—but the depth others glimpsed when they met his gaze could be modulated with focus.
Mostly, he kept it muted. A toddler with unsettling eyes was one thing. A toddler whose gaze made grown cultivators uncomfortable was manageable. But he could push more if needed.
And sometimes, pushing was educational.
The morning began with an unexpected visitor—Duke Theron Obsidian, head of House Obsidian from the capital region, stopping by on his way north to inspect territorial borders. He'd brought his son, a boy of about eight named Cassian, who had apparently just passed his awakening ceremony with "exceptional" results.
The families met in the formal reception hall. Ashen sat quietly in Seraphina's lap while the adults discussed politics and trade agreements.
Cassian Obsidian stood beside his father, looking every bit the young noble prodigy—perfectly groomed, immaculately dressed, radiating the confidence of someone who'd been told they were special their entire short life.
His cultivation was F-Rank Advanced, which was decent for an eight-year-old. His affinity was fire, A-Rank, which genuinely was impressive.
And he couldn't stop staring at Ashen with barely concealed contempt.
Ashen could read the boy's micro-expressions perfectly. Jealousy, perhaps, that even at two and a half, the youngest Silverion drew attention. Or maybe just the natural arrogance of someone unused to being anything but the center of focus.
"Your youngest is quiet," Duke Theron observed, nodding toward Ashen. "How old?"
"Two and a half," Aldric replied. "Still very young, but developing well."
"Has he shown any signs of talent yet?"
"Some. Advanced comprehension, quick learning. But it's too early to determine cultivation potential."
Cassian scoffed quietly—not quite quiet enough. "He looks weak. Too small for his age."
The adults paused their conversation. Seraphina's arms tightened slightly around Ashen.
Duke Theron frowned at his son. "Cassian, that's inappropriate."
"I'm just being honest, Father. You always say honesty is important." The boy's tone carried the particular smugness of children who'd just learned to wield "honesty" as socially acceptable cruelty.
Ashen looked at Cassian for the first time, really looked, making direct eye contact.
He didn't say anything. Didn't need to.
He simply let the boy see a fraction of what lived behind those golden eyes. Not the full depth—that would probably traumatize a child. Just enough to remind Cassian that appearances meant nothing.
The effect was immediate.
Cassian's smug expression crumbled. His eyes widened, skin going pale as his eight-year-old instincts screamed at him that he'd made a terrible mistake. He stumbled backward half a step, bumping into his father's leg.
"I..." Cassian's voice came out small. "I didn't... sorry..."
The boy looked away, unable to maintain eye contact, suddenly very interested in his own shoes.
Ashen returned his gaze to neutral, appearing once again like a normal toddler who'd simply looked at someone.
Duke Theron frowned, confused by his son's sudden change in demeanor. Aldric and Seraphina exchanged glances—they'd seen that reaction before, over the past week, but it never stopped being unsettling.
The adults attempted to resume their conversation, but Cassian remained subdued for the rest of the visit, carefully avoiding looking anywhere near Ashen.
After they left, Aldric spoke quietly to Seraphina. "That's the third time this week someone has reacted like that to him."
"I know."
"His eyes..."
"I know," Seraphina repeated, holding Ashen closer. "Something changed recently. I don't understand what, but something is different."
Ashen remained silent, letting them puzzle over it. There was no explanation he could give that wouldn't raise more questions.
The afternoon brought training time. Kael was sparring with guards again, and Ashen had been brought to watch—ostensibly for "exposure to martial arts" but really because Mira needed a break and his parents were both occupied.
He sat on a bench at the training yard's edge, supposedly just observing with childlike curiosity.
In reality, he was analyzing every technique on display with his Primordial Sovereign Eyes, cataloguing movements, essence flow patterns, and tactical decisions with perfect clarity.
One of the guards—Captain Marcus, a D-Rank cultivator with earth affinity—noticed Ashen watching and approached during a break in sparring.
"Young master," Marcus greeted with a respectful nod. "Interested in swordplay?"
Ashen nodded. "Swords are interesting."
"Your brother is quite skilled. Perhaps when you're older, you'll train with us too." Marcus smiled, the patronizing expression adults wore when talking to small children.
Ashen looked up at him, meeting his eyes directly.
Marcus's smile faltered. His hand moved instinctively toward his sword hilt, cultivator combat instincts activating before his conscious mind could process why.
They held eye contact for three seconds.
Three seconds of Marcus staring into golden eyes that held depth like staring into spatial rifts, time fractals visible in the iris, an abyss that somehow stared back with perfect awareness.
The captain broke eye contact first, stepping back slightly. "I... excuse me. Need to resume training."
He walked away faster than necessary, throwing one confused glance back at the toddler sitting peacefully on the bench.
Kael had noticed the interaction. He approached Ashen, sword still in hand, looking curious. "Did you do something to Marcus? He looks like he saw a ghost."
"Just looked at him," Ashen said simply.
Kael studied his youngest brother thoughtfully. "Your eyes are really weird, you know that? Ever since last week, everyone gets uncomfortable when you look at them."
"Does it bother you?"
Kael considered the question, then shrugged. "Not really. You're still just a tiny kid. Weird eyes don't change that." He ruffled Ashen's hair casually. "Though maybe try not to spook the guards too much. Marcus looked like he was about to draw his sword on a toddler."
Ashen almost smiled at that. His brother's straightforward nature was refreshing—Kael noticed the unsettling quality but simply accepted it without overthinking.
Kael returned to sparring. Ashen returned to observation, his eyes processing combat data that would serve him well in future years.
Evening brought dinner with the family. Reikan had returned from a trip to the eastern border, bringing reports about the spatial rift aftermath.
"The dimensional instability is spreading," he reported to Aldric between courses. "Three more minor rifts appeared this week, all within fifty miles of the original. The pattern suggests the barrier weakening is accelerating."
"Have there been casualties?"
"Minimal. We've established early warning systems and response teams. But this is becoming a persistent problem rather than an isolated incident."
Ashen listened while eating, his eyes tracking essence signatures around the table, reading body language that told stories words didn't.
Elara was worried but hiding it behind administrative efficiency. Kael was frustrated, probably because he wanted to fight threats but couldn't punch dimensional instability. Lyra seemed fascinated, likely already planning some reckless expedition to examine a rift up close.
And Reikan... Reikan was looking at Ashen again.
His eldest brother had been doing that more often lately. Not with hostility or suspicion, but with the analytical attention of someone trying to solve a puzzle.
Their eyes met across the table.
Reikan held the contact longer than most people managed now—a full five seconds before his gaze shifted slightly to the side, that same involuntary discomfort affecting him despite his considerable self-control.
"Ashen," Reikan said carefully, "do you understand what we're discussing?"
The table went quiet. It was an odd question to ask a two-and-a-half-year-old.
"Big cracks," Ashen replied, keeping his vocabulary simple. "Bad things come through. Papa fixes them."
"That's... surprisingly accurate for his age," Elara observed.
"He's always been perceptive," Seraphina said, her tone carrying a mother's protective edge.
Reikan nodded slowly, but his expression suggested he was thinking something he wasn't saying. After dinner, Ashen saw his eldest brother speak quietly with Aldric in the hallway, their conversation too distant for normal hearing but perfectly clear to his enhanced perception.
"Something is different about him, Father."
"I know."
"His eyes—"
"I know," Aldric repeated. "But he's two years old. Whatever we're seeing, it's not a threat."
"I didn't say it was a threat. Just... different. Unusual."
"The world is full of unusual things lately." Aldric glanced toward where Ashen was supposedly out of earshot. "Spatial rifts appearing, dimensional barriers weakening, ancient essence patterns resurging. Perhaps our youngest is simply... adapting to unusual times."
Reikan didn't look convinced, but he nodded acceptance.
Bedtime brought Seraphina to the nursery, carrying a storybook as usual. She settled into the rocking chair with Ashen in her lap, but didn't open the book immediately.
"Can I ask you something?" she said softly.
Ashen looked up at her face, careful to keep his gaze gentle.
"Your eyes... I know something changed. I'm your mother—I notice these things." Seraphina touched his cheek gently. "Are you alright? Does it hurt? Can you see things differently now?"
She was perceptive. More perceptive than he'd given her credit for.
"See more," Ashen admitted, because some truth was safer than complete deception. "Things are... clearer."
"Clearer how?"
"Everything." He gestured vaguely. "Colors. Shapes. People."
Seraphina absorbed this, her healer's instincts probably trying to categorize what he was describing. "Is that why people seem uncomfortable when you look at them?"
"Maybe. Don't mean to."
"I know you don't, sweetheart." She held him closer. "You're special. I've known that since you were born. These eyes of yours—they're part of what makes you special. Don't let anyone make you feel bad about that."
Ashen felt something warm in his chest at those words. Genuine acceptance from someone who didn't fully understand but loved anyway.
"Love you, Mama," he said quietly. And meant it.
Seraphina's eyes glistened slightly. "I love you too, my special boy. So much."
She read to him then, her voice soothing even as his eyes processed the text faster than she could speak, simultaneously observing her essence signature, the castle's defensive enchantments, the night watch changing shifts three floors below, and countless other streams of information his Primordial Sovereign Eyes gathered without effort.
This was his existence now. Perfect perception, social isolation, genuine love from parents who accepted what they couldn't understand, and the slow accumulation of knowledge that would eventually translate into overwhelming power.
The system pulsed once in his consciousness.
[PRIMORDIAL AMPLIFICATION SYSTEM]
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No techniques detected.
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Still dormant. But with his new eyes, when he finally did learn techniques, mastery would come at speeds that would seem impossible to anyone watching.
Twenty-nine months until awakening.
But the eyes were already awake. Already seeing everything.
Already preparing him for a future no one else could perceive.