"Who… who are you…?" Zeni asks, confused and still unable to move. "And why can't I move?"
"I've temporarily paralyzed your body to keep you from moving," the man responds, grinning—far too proud of himself.
"Anyway, we've got stuff to do," he says. "Let me show you around."
Zeni's body suddenly unfreezes. He can move again.
They walk along a long footpath. Around them, chunks of destroyed buildings float in the air. A thick maroon fog blankets the island, and somewhere far off, a bell—or something like one—rings in and out of existence, growing louder as they walk.
"So… how did you get those eyes?" Zeni asks, genuine curiosity in his voice.
"My eyes, huh? Eh, it's a long story… but it's gonna be a long walk, so I might as well. I'll only tell you once, though," the man says, trying not to show how excited he is that Zeni asked.
"The eye colour represents how many monsters you've slain. Same goes for you. We call them gradients."
Zeni's eyes widen. "Wow… so that's why you have those red eyes! How many monsters did that take?"
"You really want to know, huh? …Alright then. Twenty-six."
Zeni stops dead in his tracks.
"TWENTY-SIX MONSTERS?!" he shouts.
"Yup. Took time, but I got there," the man replies with a slight grin.
"Wait… does that mean I have to fight monsters…?" Zeni realizes.
"Yeah. Don't worry, I'll walk you through it. Speaking of walking—let's keep moving."
They continue until the footpath ends at a stairwell leading down to an entirely new island. Buildings are scattered everywhere—an actual village. A civilization.
"Here we are!" the man says, excited. "This is what I call Shallow-vill."
"Shallow-vill…" Zeni repeats under his breath, staring in awe.
They descend the stairs into the village. Zeni looks around at the buildings, the people—each person with different coloured eyes—while the man greets locals with casual familiarity.
"Everyone has different coloured eyes… I wonder how many monsters they've slain…" Zeni wonders.
"Who do we have here?" a local says.
He's about Zeni's height, slim, with black hair and a mischievous smirk. His eyes are gradient yellow. Trouble.
"Heh, seems like you're new here," he says, still smirking.
"Y-yeah, I'm new. I just got here," Zeni answers nervously.
"So you're a weakling, I take it?" The man grins wide, baring his teeth in a mocking laugh. "I'm not very fond of your weak kind… filthy gradient blacks."
Zeni freezes, shocked and frightened. The local lifts his hand, swings across as if to slap him—
But he never lands it.
His eyes go wide with horror.
The pale man from before has caught his wrist mid-swing.
"What makes you think you have any right to strike my brother?" the man growls, eyes blazing.
"S-sorry sir! Please forgive me!" the local pleads.
"Get out of here before I do something I shouldn't." The man shoves the local's arm away. The yellow-gradient stumbles back, then runs.
"Are you alright, Zeni?" the man asks.
Silence.
"Zeni?" he repeats.
Zeni stares at him, frozen.
"…What did you mean… 'brother'?" he asks quietly.
A long pause.
A sigh.
"It's me," the man says. "Kudos."