Eyes Of God.

The chamber stretched endlessly, a vault overflowing with treasures. Jewels of every color, chests spilling over with gold, rare artifacts, and weapons crafted by master smiths—swords, spears, axes, bows—all arranged in silent display. Riches that could make even kings envious.

But to the man walking through them, inspecting each as he passed, they were nothing more than mundane objects. Trivial things that only simple-minded people would take pleasure in possessing.

"These are just a means to get what I want," Sol thought, his black eyes scanning the collection without the slightest glimmer of interest. "A token. Something I can discard without a second thought."

The shine of gold, the gleam of polished steel—none of it stirred anything in him. He had lost the ability to see beauty in such things long ago. But that did not mean they had no value.

Humans were different. They were drawn to beauty, to status. A ring, a house, a weapon—it didn't matter what it was, as long as it signified worth. Not all humans were like this, but enough of them were that it may as well have been second nature.

His hand stopped over a particular sword.

The blade gleamed unnaturally, its steel polished to a mirror sheen, reflecting the dim torchlight with an almost supernatural glow. It gave off an illusion of unbreakability, a weapon meant to inspire awe. The hilt was adorned with two deep red gems, standing out like two small lights against the pristine silver. A symbol of power.

Yet, as Sol picked it up, he looked at it as if it were nothing more than a scrap of iron.

"For a human knight, this should be enough," he mused. "Strong enough to withstand most impacts, light enough for precision and speed. A weapon to show off status and values."

A fitting blade for a weakling.

If he wanted, he could shatter it with a mere squeeze of his fingers. Such was the weakness of humans—relying on weapons instead of their own bodies. Unlike mutants, who wielded their strength naturally, their flesh and bone more powerful than any forged steel.

But no matter. He had what he needed.

With the sword in hand, he turned and left the treasure room.

---

The moment he stepped outside, he was met by a butler.

The man was tall, his muscular frame barely concealed beneath his immaculate uniform. His raven-black hair was tied back into a ponytail, sharp features framed by flawless gray skin. His black eyes, deep and filled with silent vigor, locked onto Sol's the instant the door opened.

At once, he dropped to one knee.

"Lord Sol, King Duarte is waiting."

Sol barely acknowledged him as he walked past. "Good. Let's go meet him."

The butler stood swiftly and followed without a word.

***

The meeting room was suffocating. The heavy scent of perfume mixed with the lingering aroma of roasted meat, the air thick with the presence of the man seated at its center.

King Duarte.

The sight of him nearly made Sol recoil in disgust.

The man was grotesque, his massive body draped in rich fabrics that barely contained his swollen form. Greasy fingers clutched at the arms of his gilded chair, his bulbous face glistening with sweat. A man of indulgence, of excess. A pig masquerading as a ruler.

Sol wanted to kill him on sight. Erase his existence from the world and rid it of his hideousness.

But he wouldn't. Not yet. He needed this man for his plan to work.

The moment Duarte saw him, he scrambled to his feet. "L-Lord Sol," he stammered, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

Sol wasted no time.

"So, King Duarte," he said, lowering himself into a seat with effortless grace. "Have you thought about my offer?"

"Yes!" Duarte blurted, his many chins quivering. "And I accept! In the next five years, Raumhant will be no more."

Sol ignored the way the king's voice wavered with overeagerness. Instead, he placed the sword on the table between them. The polished steel caught the candlelight, gleaming like a beacon of power.

"A gift," Sol said, his voice smooth. "From my personal vault. Crafted by the finest blacksmiths, forged with the highest quality steel and gems."

Duarte's beady eyes widened. He reached for the sword with greedy hands, his breath quickening as he turned it over, admiring its craftsmanship.

Sol stood. He had no interest in watching the fool drool over his new prize.

"If you need further details, speak to General Rui. He is already stationed in Asfrodos," he said.

Duarte only nodded, too absorbed in his new weapon to respond properly.

Sol left without another word.

***

As he walked through the dim corridors, his mind stretched beyond his body. His awareness expanded outward, flowing into the eyes of countless mutants spread across the land.

A gift of his kind. A Tier Five mutant's ability.

Through thousands of different perspectives, he watched. Cities teeming with life, soldiers training, merchants bartering, spies whispering in darkened alleyways. So much information, enough to shatter the minds of lesser beings. Even Tier Four mutants would crumble under the weight of such knowledge.

And then—

A flicker of something unusual.

Through the eyes of a Tier Two mutant, he saw a child.

Not just any child. His appearance was unmistakable. Sol had only seen such features in one place before.

The capital of Stering.

And yet, here he was, standing in a small village near the border of Ventes and Raumhant.

Something wasn't right.

Sol focused, listening in on their conversation. The boy, Cassian, was speaking about his abilities—his power as a mutant.

As Sol heard the words leave the boy's lips, a rare sensation crept through him.

Shock.

"The madmen of Stering… they did it."

A mutant with unique abilities. The impossible had become real.

Sol's expression darkened. He wasted no time. Kill him.

The Tier Two mutant's rage flared instantly. His body tensed, his bloodlust erupting. He raised his hand to strike.

Then—he stopped.

Sol's eyes narrowed. It wasn't resistance. No, the mutant couldn't attack.

Something—or someone—was protecting the boy.

And then, he saw them.

Golden eyes.

The realization hit like a thunderclap.

"Of course they're protecting him," Sol thought bitterly. "Those disgusting golden eyes."

But this wasn't over. He would take control himself.

Reaching through the mutant's mind, he seized its body, forced it to move—

And then, as if struck by an unseen force, his control was shattered.

Sol staggered, his real body trembling as the connection was severed. His breath came in slow, measured inhales. The air around him grew heavy, the walls trembling with the weight of his power. His form began to shift, muscles contorting, his presence warping the very space around him.

"How?"

"How does he have so much control over my people?"

The realization burned within him like fire.

The entire room shook. His fingers curled into fists.

"That bastard."

Eyes of God.

What was he scheming now?