Three and a half years old, and Ashen had become something of a legend among the castle staff.
Not in the way Kael was known for his combat prowess, nor Elara for her administrative genius. Ashen's reputation was more unsettling—the young master with eyes like an abyss, who watched everything, understood too much, and made grown warriors instinctively uncomfortable.
The servants called him "the Quiet One" when they thought no one was listening.
Today brought visitors that would test exactly how quiet he could be.
Duchess Helena Verdant arrived from the southern territories with her entourage, including her daughter Sylvia, a girl of five who'd awakened with S-Rank earth affinity and wouldn't stop talking about it.
The families met in the gardens, a calculated choice by Seraphina to keep things informal. Ashen sat on a bench beside his mother, supposedly playing with wooden blocks while adults discussed territorial cooperation.
Sylvia Verdant stood beside her mother, wearing an elaborate green dress and an expression of supreme confidence. She'd been awakened for four months and was already F-Rank Novice—impressive for her age, and she clearly knew it.
"Mother says I'm the most talented Verdant in three generations," Sylvia announced to no one in particular. "My tutors say I'll reach E-Rank before I'm seven."
"That's wonderful, dear," Seraphina replied politely.
Sylvia's eyes landed on Ashen. "How old is he?"
"Three and a half."
"Has he awakened yet?"
"Not until five, like all children."
Sylvia nodded as if confirming something she'd suspected. "He looks weak. Too small. Probably won't have good affinity." She said it matter-of-factly, with the casual cruelty of children who'd been told they were special so often they'd started believing it.
Duchess Helena looked mortified. "Sylvia! Apologize immediately."
"But—"
"Now."
Sylvia turned to Ashen with an insincere smile. "Sorry."
Ashen had been stacking his blocks in complicated geometric patterns, ostensibly playing. Now he looked up at Sylvia, making direct eye contact for the first time.
He didn't say anything.
He simply looked.
And let her see.
Not the full depth—that would be excessive. Just enough that her instincts understood she'd made a serious miscalculation. Just enough for her subconscious to register that appearances were supremely deceptive.
Just enough for those golden eyes to remind her that talent meant nothing compared to potential.
Sylvia's insincere smile vanished. Her skin went pale. She stumbled backward, nearly tripping over her elaborate dress, and hid behind her mother's skirts.
"Mama," she whispered, voice trembling. "His eyes..."
Duchess Helena looked between her daughter and Ashen, confusion evident. The toddler had simply looked at Sylvia. Nothing more. Yet her daughter, her supremely confident, S-Rank genius daughter, was now terrified.
"I... I think Sylvia needs rest," Duchess Helena said carefully. "The journey was long."
After they left—far earlier than planned—Duchess Helena practically carrying her frightened daughter—Aldric turned to Seraphina with raised eyebrows.
"That's the fourth visiting child in two months."
"I know."
"They all react the same way."
"I know."
Aldric looked at Ashen, who'd returned to stacking blocks as if nothing had happened. "Son, do you understand why other children are afraid of you?"
Ashen considered how to answer. "My eyes are different."
"Different how?"
"See more. People know I see more. Makes them... careful."
It was the most honest explanation he could give without revealing the full truth. His Primordial Sovereign Eyes did see more—infinitely more. And on some instinctive level, when he made direct eye contact, people perceived that depth.
Seraphina pulled Ashen into her lap. "You're not doing anything wrong, sweetheart. Some people are just... sensitive."
"The girl said I look weak," Ashen said quietly.
"She was being rude."
"Was she wrong?"
The question hung in the air. Physically, he did appear small for his age—the Primordial Physique prioritized efficiency over bulk, keeping him lean rather than obviously strong.
"Appearances can be deceiving," Aldric said finally. "Sylvia Verdant has S-Rank earth affinity and she'll achieve great things. But she's also five years old, already awakened, and still ran from a toddler's gaze. What does that tell you about who's actually stronger?"
Ashen processed that. His father had just essentially confirmed that mere eye contact constituted a form of dominance. That perception—how others reacted to his presence—was itself a kind of power.
Interesting.
The afternoon brought an unexpected event. A merchant caravan had been attacked near the northern border—not by monsters, but by bandits. The survivors had fled to the castle, and Aldric was preparing to ride out with guards to handle the situation.
"Stay inside," Aldric instructed the family. "This shouldn't take long, but I want everyone safe until we've cleared the area."
Ashen watched from an upper window as his father rode out with twenty soldiers, a small but efficient force for handling common bandits.
Through his enhanced vision, he could perceive the caravan survivors in the courtyard below. Merchants, guards, one woman who appeared to be a low-level cultivator—E-Rank at most.
And one man whose essence signature was wrong.
Ashen focused his Primordial Sovereign Eyes on the individual in question. The man stood with the survivors, playing the role of frightened merchant, but his essence told a different story. D-Rank cultivation, heavily suppressed. Combat experience evident in his posture. Concealed weapons under his clothing.
This wasn't a survivor. This was a bandit who'd infiltrated the group.
Ashen watched as the man's eyes swept the courtyard, cataloguing guards, noting defensive positions, identifying vulnerabilities. He was assessing the castle for a later attack.
Smart. Let the Duke ride out to fight "bandits" elsewhere while their real target remained undefended.
Ashen's first instinct was to alert someone. But he stopped himself, analyzing the situation with cold logic.
Option one: Tell Seraphina. She'd alert the guards. The infiltrator would be captured or killed. Problem solved.
Option two: Do nothing. See what happened. Learn from the observation.
Option three: Handle it himself.
He was three and a half years old with zero combat capability. Option three was absurd.
But there were other ways to handle threats.
Ashen left his window and made his way downstairs. Mira tried to stop him—"Young master, your mother said to stay in your rooms"—but he slipped past while she was distracted.
He walked across the courtyard with the innocent aimlessness of a toddler exploring. Several guards noticed him but didn't interfere—the young master wandering the gardens was hardly unusual.
The infiltrator was near the fountain, still playing his role of traumatized survivor. Ashen approached him directly.
The man glanced down, dismissing him immediately. A child. Irrelevant.
Ashen looked up and made eye contact.
Then he pushed.
Not physically. Not with essence—he had none to manipulate. But with the full weight of his Primordial Sovereign Eyes, unleashing perception that stabbed through the man's consciousness like spatial blades.
The infiltrator saw infinity in those golden eyes. Saw abyss containing depths he couldn't comprehend. Saw something that made his D-Rank cultivator instincts scream danger in every possible language.
He stumbled backward, hand going to his concealed weapon reflexively. His suppressed essence spiked with adrenaline, no longer hidden.
"Threat!" a guard shouted, noticing the essence fluctuation. "The man by the fountain!"
The infiltrator ran. Made it perhaps five steps before three guards tackled him. His concealed weapons clattered to the stone courtyard—daggers, poison vials, and what looked like a spatial anchor for teleportation.
Captain Marcus approached quickly, sword drawn, and examined the captured man. "D-Rank cultivation, assassination tools, spatial anchor." He looked at the merchants. "This one isn't a survivor."
During the chaos of securing the infiltrator, Ashen quietly returned to his window. By the time anyone thought to wonder how the guard had noticed the threat, the toddler was safely back in his observation post.
Seraphina found him twenty minutes later. "Ashen, did you leave your room?"
"Went to get water," he lied smoothly. "Saw guards catch bad man."
"You shouldn't have been out there. That man was dangerous."
"He looked at me funny."
"What do you mean?"
"Before guards caught him. He looked at me. Then looked scared. Then ran."
Seraphina absorbed this information with growing understanding. "Did you... look at him the way you looked at that girl earlier?"
Ashen nodded innocently.
His mother sighed, pulling him into a hug. "Your eyes are going to give me gray hair before I'm fifty. But well done spotting the threat, even if it was accidentally."
It hadn't been accidental. But she didn't need to know that.
When Aldric returned that evening—having found and eliminated the actual bandit camp—he was informed about the infiltrator.
"Captured alive," Captain Marcus reported. "He's refused to talk so far, but we'll learn what we can."
"How was he discovered?"
Marcus hesitated. "The strangest thing, my lord. He was standing peacefully with the survivors, completely concealed. Then he suddenly... panicked. His essence spiked, cover blown, and he ran."
"What caused the panic?"
"Unknown. But..." Marcus trailed off.
"Speak."
"Young master Ashen was in the courtyard at the time. Near the fountain. Some of the guards reported seeing the infiltrator look down at the young master right before his essence spiked."
Aldric processed this silently. Then he went to find his youngest son.
Ashen was in the library with Seraphina, reading far above his apparent age level. Aldric studied him for a long moment.
"Did you do something to that infiltrator?"
Ashen looked up from his book. "Just looked at him."
"Just looked."
"Yes."
"And he ran."
"Yes."
Aldric crouched to his son's level. "Ashen, I'm not angry. But I need to understand. Your eyes... they affect people. Not just children. Grown men, trained fighters. How?"
Ashen chose his words carefully. "When I look, they see that I see them. Really see them. All of them. And they don't like it."
It was truth, if incomplete. His eyes did see everything—every hidden intention, every suppressed emotion, every concealed strength or weakness. When he pushed that perception through direct eye contact, people's instincts recognized they'd been completely, utterly exposed.
For an infiltrator whose entire plan relied on deception, that recognition was terrifying.
"That's..." Aldric searched for words. "That's a significant ability. Even without cultivation."
"Is it bad?"
"No. Just unusual." His father smiled slightly. "Actually, it's tactically valuable. An ability to expose hidden threats is worth ten warriors in the right situation."
"So I helped?"
"You may have saved lives. The infiltrator would have opened gates for his companions tonight. We'd have been caught unprepared." Aldric ruffled Ashen's hair. "Well done, son. Though please be more careful. Cornered threats are dangerous."
After his father left, Seraphina looked at Ashen thoughtfully. "You're not as helpless as you appear, are you?"
"I'm three and a half," Ashen said. "I'm very helpless."
"And yet bandits run from your gaze."
"Maybe they're just smart."
Seraphina laughed despite herself. "Maybe they are."
That night, lying in his crib, Ashen processed the day's events.
He'd neutralized a threat without violence, without even speaking. Just perception weaponized through eye contact.
It was crude compared to what real power would eventually look like. But it demonstrated potential.
His Primordial Sovereign Eyes weren't just for observation and learning. They were psychological weapons that could break fighting spirits before battles began.
Useful information.
The system pulsed.
[PRIMORDIAL AMPLIFICATION SYSTEM]
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No techniques detected.
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Eighteen months until awakening.
Then his real capabilities would manifest.
Then the subtle intimidation would be backed by actual overwhelming power.
He could be patient.
Patience and proper preparation would make him untouchable.
And until then, golden eyes that made warriors run were quite entertaining in their own right.