Seiya neither spoke nor acted in a way that might betray what he felt and sensed upon arriving here—his expression remained blank.
"Over here," his teacher said, guiding him to sit before a mirror.
"I'm sorry, but I'll be taking out all your hair," the man announced.
Seiya responded with a single nod, indifferent to sothing so trivial.
His teacher smiled and got to work, the rhythmic snipping filling the air. When he was finished, he stepped back. Seiya ran a hand over his now-bare scalp, feeling the smooth skin beneath his fingertips.
"What about this?" the teacher asked, lifting the freshly cut strands and brushing them against his cheek.
"Throw it away," Seiya replied flatly.
"Why? It's beautiful, and it was so long..." The man hesitated, then brightened. "I'll keep it, then!"
Just as he turned to leave, Seiya's voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Thank you, Sensei," Seiya murmured, his face portraying no emotion.
The man's heart pounded, a thrill coursing through him. Though he had asked Seiya to call him Sensei a year ago, the boy never had—not even once. He turned back, stepping closer.
"Wh-what did you say? I didn't catch that," he lied, hoping Seiya would repeat himself. But Seiya only stared ahead, silent.
Realizing he wouldn't hear it again, the teacher flung his arms around Seiya, pulling him into an overjoyed embrace.
"You called Sensei! !" he cheered, rubbing his face against Seiya's, his excitent unrestrained.
Seiya's expression shifted to one of quiet exasperation.
"Wait here, I have sothing for you," his teacher declared before dashing off, his energy undiminished.
Seiya remained still, gazing at nothing in particular.
"How do I look?" he asked Ibyu, who climbed up his legs to perch on his shoulder.
Ibyu observed Seiya's reflection in the mirror, its small face unreadable.
{Nothing.}
"...?"
{I don't know. You just look like that,} it added when Seiya gave it a blank stare.
His teacher returned monts later, placing a small black gemstone in Seiya's palm.
"What is this?" Seiya asked, feeling the cool, smooth surface.
"An artifact," the teacher replied, his smile unwavering.
"Though there are no ans of opening gates from our world, certain things bypass such laws. That stone is one of them—a prized possession of my clan. I'm giving it to you because it's the only thing of true value I have to offer."
Seiya pondered the aning behind such a gift. Why would his teacher entrust him with sothing so valuable? A relic that could open gates to dungeons...
Nevertheless, he kept it.
"Hmm? You're not calling Sensei to thank this ti?" the man teased, feigning disappointnt.
Seiya rely sighed.
"You've called Sensei now—next, let's try my na...." The man rambled on, but Seiya's thoughts drifted elsewhere, his mind tuned out to everything else.
"Also," the teacher said, drawing Seiya back.
"You're free to speak and act however you wish. Your father isn't watching."
Seiya stayed at his teacher's ho for a while, ate alongside Ibyu—too much food, the best he had eaten in years. They spent their ti engaged in various activities, his teacher filling the hours with tales both grand and absurd.
Before Seiya was taken back to the facility, he trained with his teacher. The unfamiliar environnt of his teacher's ho beca an advantage, forcing Seiya to rely on and sharpen his other senses in the absence of sight.
Back at the facility, his father interrogated him strictly about his ti away, but his teacher intervened quickly.
"All we did was train," he said smoothly.
Seiya nodded in agreent because It wasn't a lie—they had trained, after all.
***
Weeks go by until one evening, Seiya was summoned by his father. As he was led through the halls, he knew at once where he was being taken.
The containnt room.
There, encased in glass, rested the bloodstained staff. No matter how many tis they had asked, Seiya always gave the sa answer—the truth. He had neither brought the weapon nor wielded it to kill the boys.
But yet, the staff made him feel unsettled. The first ti Seiya stood before it, he had sensed it—he heard it. A steady, pulsing heartbeat within the weapon itself. And each ti he was brought near, it reacted, writhing as if desperate to break free.
As Seiya was forced forward, the staff stirred, wriggling violently within its glass prison.
"Stay still," Seiya said softly in a very low hushed tone.
His words were carried like a whisper through the air, and the staff instantly stilled.
His father's voice broke the silence, rigid and cold.
"Are you ready to tell where this staff ca from?"
Seiya remained silent.
"I know this weapon isn't ordinary, so speak."
"I don't know," Seiya replied, as he always had.
His father casted a restrained, simring gaze at Seiya before striding past him, ordering his subordinates to bring him along.
Seiya was forced onto a cold tal table, his body strapped down tightly.
"Since every thod of restoring your sight has failed, I've decided to try this," his father said.
A scalpel was placed into Mr Sanio's waiting palm by one of his workers.
"I'll have to gouge out your eyes and replace them with a vision artifact. As our prized asset, we must do everything to restore your sight. Though we aren't 100% sure if it'll work but we have to try."
Seiya's heart clenched. A cold terror coiled around his ribs, tightening with each breath.
His father pressed the scalpel against Seiya's skin, making a cut.
"Good, it's working," he remarked before lifting the blade to Seiya's eye.
Slowly, he drove the tip into the corner, drawing a gut-wrenching scream from Seiya. His body convulsed, raw strength surging through him from the imnse pain. The restraints snapped under the force of his thrashing, and with a desperate, uncontrolled strike, he sent his father stumbling backward
A searing pain pulsed through Seiya's eyes—hot, unbearable, as if molten lava were being poured into them. His screams echoed through the lab, and then, a brilliant white glow erupted from his eyes, radiating with an unnatural intensity.
In an instant, a crushing force blasted inward, sweeping through the room like a tempest. Glasses shattered, equipnt crumbled, and every person present was slamd to the ground, their bodies forced into a kowtowing position as if the very weight of the earth had descended upon them. The air itself trembled under the unseen force.
The shockwave did not stop there. It surged through the entire facility, spilling into the surrounding city. In hos, bars, and offices, people collapsed where they were, their heads pressed down by the imnse, invisible force.The pressure was too severe that they couldn't resist. So even ca crashing down on tables and objects as they were being forced to go down.
No one in the facility or around that vicinity was spared. Even strangers on the street, citizens in their daily lives, all fell—their heads driven to the ground as if bowing before a sovereign.
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