The world didn't just fade; it ignited.
As the tenth minute expired, the silver static in Elian's pupils didn't simply vanish—it imploded. The frozen blue of his eyes felt as if it had been injected with liquid fire. A ragged, wet sound escaped his throat as he collapsed into the mud, his hands hovering near his face, trembling. Thick, hot rivulets of blood began to seep from his tear ducts, carving dark paths through the dust on his cheeks.
He tried to blink, but every movement of his eyelids felt like sandpaper grinding against raw nerves. The sharp, mathematical clarity of the Insight was gone, replaced by a suffocating, grey fog. He could see shapes—looming shadows and flickering torchlight—but the details of the world had been snatched away. He was half blind to the world, left only with the receding echoes of the logic he had just witnessed.
"At least you didn't do the foolishness of stealing like you did in the mine."
The voice was cold, sharp, and drifted from the shadows to Elian's right. Elian stiffened. Kaelen.
He heard the soft clink of the Umbra-boy's pickaxe being pulled from the beast's carcass. A shadow moved into Elian's blurred field of vision. Kaelen leaned down, his voice dropping to a whisper that only Elian could hear.
"If you drag the group down again, I will personally see that you don't see the rising sun again. You're a liability. Don't let your 'luck' make you arrogant."
Elian's heart hammered against his ribs. His pragmatic mind, despite the agony, began to whirl. Kaelen isn't just a silent observer. He's a predator. He recognized the strike I made, and he mimicked it. He's fast, lethal, and he's watching me like a hawk. Elian realized he couldn't just use the Crows; he had to survive them.
"Leave him be, Kaelen!"
Talin's voice broke the tension. The older man stumbled over, followed closely by Baraq, whose wolf-ears were flattened in genuine distress.
"Lad, your eyes..." Talin's rough hand settled on Elian's shoulder. "Baraq, get some water. We need to wash the gore away."
Baraq nodded, his large, calloused hand steadying Elian's other arm. For a moment, a strange warmth flickered in Elian's chest—not the heat of an authority, but a flicker of genuine camaraderie. They had survived a Tier 2 breach together. In this hell, that was a blood-bond.
The moment was shattered by the rhythmic, heavy clank of silver-plate armor.
The Knight-Commander approached. The air around him felt heavy, pressurized by a presence that made the Crows fall silent. The Commander stopped and reached down, the cold metal of his gauntlet gripping Elian's chin and forcing his head up. Elian winced as the light hit his bleeding, clouded eyes.
The Commander's eyes narrowed. He looked at the boy known as Elian Valerius.
A Valerius. Now nothing more than 'Hollow'. In the lore of Caelum, Hollows were those whose bodies and souls were inert. They could never wield Aura or Mana. At most, they were sturdy labor. Only those with specific Bloodline Gifts—like the Umbra-race Kaelen belonged to—could manifest innate abilities without traditional aura or mana.
The Commander's eyes shifted to Kaelen, acknowledging the boy's Umbra heritage, then back to Elian.
The Umbra-boy killed the second beast. That was somewhat surprising but nothing beyond unexpected, the Commander thought. But this one... the Valerius boy struck the first. A Valerius has no bloodline gift. They are just inherently physical strengthened, yet he bleeds from the eyes as if he has overtaxed a power he shouldn't possess. "A sapper who bleeds from his eyes after a 'lucky' strike," the Commander rumbled. "You are an anomaly, Elian Valerius. And anomalies are either refined or discarded."
He let go of Elian's chin and turned to the guards.
"Transfer the Crows to the West Gate. Now. They are to be the primary scouting detail for the Vanguard Unit."
Talin gasped. "But Commander, the boy is half blind! He can't—"
"He will walk, or he will be dragged," the Commander interrupted. "If his luck is as great as it seems, he will survive the Lawless Zone. If not... he was merely a waste of rations."
The logic was purely pragmatic. To the Commander, the Crows were now a high-risk, high-reward asset. If they survived the front lines, they were useful bait. If they died, a potential threat to the hierarchy was removed.
Elian felt the guards' hands grabbing his tunic. As he was hauled to his feet, his vision still a smeared mess of grey and red, he realized the game had changed.
The first cost of his Authority was blindness . Who knows if there was more to come.