The night had finally grown calm once more. After a battle that had shaken the world and reached even into Hexacomb, the heavens slowly began repairing themselves. The fractures in reality that had once hung open like cosmic wounds sealed one by one, leaving behind faint trails of light that gradually dissolved into the void. A gentle night breeze drifted through the ancient gardens surrounding the Nacht Family Mansion, carrying the fragrance of black flowers found nowhere else. The mansion's grand entrance opened slowly. Vandal Nacht stepped outside. His long black coat swayed with the wind. Moonlight outlined his tall, composed figure. His expression remained as impassive as ever, yet beneath that calm exterior, his mind was crowded with unanswered questions. He had lived as a member of the Nacht Family since childhood. Yet the more truths he uncovered, the more he realized how little he actually knew about his own family. His steps halted. Instantly. The atmosphere changed. The air, peaceful only moments ago, suddenly felt heavy. The shadows beneath the trees began to move. Not because of the wind. Not because of the light. But because something was emerging from the darkness itself. One by one, the servants of the Nacht Family appeared. Dressed in formal black attire, they moved with flawless discipline. Then, in perfect unison, they bowed. Not to Vandal. But to the figure who had just stepped out from the darkness. Vandal narrowed his eyes. The figure walked forward at an unhurried pace. Black hair. Red eyes. A smiling mask split between black and white. A Victorian-style black suit. And a black card spinning lazily between his fingers. Valt Nacht. Silence settled over the garden. Even the chirping of crickets vanished. It was as if the world itself understood that someone who could not be ignored had arrived. Valt stopped several meters away from Vandal. There was no hostility. No pressure. Yet that very absence made his presence all the more suffocating.
Vandal studied the man before him for several moments before finally speaking. "It's rare to see every servant of the family bow like that to someone," he said flatly, slipping both hands into his coat pockets. His gaze remained sharp and cautious. "Who exactly are you, Valt?"
Valt tilted his head slightly. The smile carved into his mask created a strange impression. As though it had never changed. As though it had been smiling for thousands of years. Yet he did not answer immediately. Instead, his crimson eyes shifted toward the highest balcony of the mansion. There stood a woman. Camelia Nacht. Her elegant black gown swayed gently in the night breeze. Her long hair reflected the moonlight, and her gaze remained calm. Yet behind that tranquility rested a wisdom that seemed to have endured through ages. Valt bowed his head slightly. A simple gesture. Yet one filled with respect. "Lady Camelia," he said in a calm, formal voice that carried clearly through the silent night. "Do you wish for Vandal Nacht to learn the true power of the Nacht Family?"
Camelia watched him for several seconds. The wind drifted softly through the garden. The atmosphere became almost ceremonial. The question itself seemed to freeze the air. Vandal raised an eyebrow. For the first time in a very long while, genuine curiosity appeared on his face. Then the woman smiled faintly. "Yes," she replied softly, yet with unmistakable certainty, folding her arms before her. Her gaze shifted toward Vandal. "It is time."
Valt turned his attention back to Vandal. A faint crimson glow shone within his eyes. Silence descended once more. But this silence was different. Not peaceful. Rather, it was the stillness before a great secret was unveiled. "You know the name Nacht," he said slowly, rotating the black card between his fingers. "But knowing a name does not mean understanding its essence. Most members of the family do not even know the true foundation of the bloodline they inherited." Valt continued. "The Nacht Family possesses three eyes."
Vandal frowned. "Three eyes?"
Valt nodded. "Gold. Red. Violet." The moment those three words were spoken, the atmosphere subtly shifted. As though reality itself were listening. Valt raised a finger. A golden light briefly appeared in one of his eyes. Only for an instant. Yet it was enough to make the surrounding space tremble. "The Golden Eye." His voice remained calm. Yet every word seemed to carry immense weight. "Its fundamental ability is to take." Valt continued. "But 'take' is far too simple a word to describe its true nature. The Golden Eye can take information. Take knowledge. Take experience. Take concepts. It can even take things that were never meant to possess form." The air around them rippled. Faint images appeared. History. Civilizations. Wars. Stars. Galaxies. All materialized briefly before vanishing again. "The Golden Eye can take information directly from the world itself," Valt continued, staring straight at Vandal. "It can read the flow of history merely by observing it. It can take the knowledge stored within an artifact. It can even take information from the narrative itself." Valt knew the significance of that word. Which was why he continued without giving Vandal the opportunity to interrupt. "Imagine a book," he said, raising the black card. "Most people can only read its pages. The Golden Eye can take the contents of the entire book simply by looking at the cover." The golden light disappeared. Then it was replaced by crimson. The atmosphere changed immediately. If the Golden Eye felt like an endless ocean of knowledge, the Red Eye felt like an explosion of possibilities. Crimson energy spread outward. The flowers throughout the garden changed shape. The stones embedded in the ground transformed. Even the air itself seemed to deform. "The Red Eye." Valt's voice became lower. "If the Golden Eye takes..." He raised his hand. A sword appeared. Not summoned. Not unsealed. Not transported. Created. "Within the Nacht Family, the Red Eye is the power to create." The sword transformed into a spear. Then a crown. Then a sphere of light. Then something that possessed no definite form at all. "To create weapons. To create laws. To create phenomena. To create entirely new powers that never previously existed." Yet Valt was not finished. The final part was the most dangerous of all. The crimson glow vanished. A new color emerged. Violet. Silence descended. This time, true silence. The wind stopped. The leaves ceased moving. Even the sounds of the world seemed to disappear. Valt's eyes turned violet. And for the first time since his arrival that night, Camelia's expression grew serious. "The Violet Eye," Valt said, his voice barely more than a whisper, "is the rarest of them all." Valt nodded. "The Violet Eye does not take." He stepped forward. "The Violet Eye does not create." Another step. "The Violet Eye ignores." The air trembled. "Rules." "It ignores." "Laws." "It ignores." "Concepts." "It ignores." "Causality." "It ignores." "Limitations." "It ignores." "Even things considered absolute." His violet eyes met Vandal's directly. There was no emotion. No arrogance. Only fact. "If the Golden Eye takes what exists..." "If the Red Eye creates what does not exist..." "Then the Violet Eye ignores whether something should exist at all."
Vandal remained silent. His eyes widened slightly when the word narrative was first mentioned. Narrative. That word carried a far greater meaning than mere storytelling. Later, as Valt explained the Red Eye, he listened with complete focus. The longer he listened, the more absurd the ability sounded. When the Violet Eye was finally revealed, he felt an overwhelming sense of danger. There was no explosion. No pressure. And that was precisely what made it terrifying. "Ignore?"
Camelia looked down at Vandal from the balcony with a calm expression. "This is the true inheritance of our family," she said softly, leaning against the railing. "Not wealth. Not influence. Not power." Her gaze drifted into the distance, as though recalling a past unimaginably ancient. "But the possibility of surpassing limits that were believed impossible."
Vandal did not reply. He simply looked at Valt. Then at Camelia. Then up toward the night sky. For the first time, he felt that the journey he had traveled thus far had been nothing more than the first step. Because now, at last, he had glimpsed a tiny shadow of the true depths possessed by the Nacht Family. And somewhere far beyond the sky—Beyond dimensions. Beyond even the realms comprehensible to mortal beings—Something began to awaken. As though an ancient existence had sensed that the secrets of the Nacht Family were beginning to move once more. And the world was not yet prepared for the consequences.