AIN: The Eyes of Deception

Chapter 5 : The Mad Experiment

The destruction wasn't just a boom in the air, it was a vibration that traveled all the way to Arel's bone marrow. When his feet hit the concrete surface in the alley below the building, his body didn't slam into the ground like a dead weight, he landed with the grace of a predator that had just understood gravity as a suggestion, not an absolute law. Dust swirled, dancing under the light of a street lamp that was flickering its last breaths. Arel stood tall, brushing the remaining dust from his shoulders.

Behind him, those two entities, Aelion who glowed with a calm light and Velkris who radiated an ink-black aura, appeared more solid than before. They were no longer just shadows, they were part of the atmosphere surrounding Arel.

"Quite a dramatic leap, Arel," Velkris's voice rang inside his skull, punctuated by a small laugh that sounded like the scraping of knives. "But you're still too slow. If you want to prove something, show the world that you aren't just an accident waiting to happen."

Arel didn't answer. He focused his gaze on a clay flowerpot perched on the second-floor windowsill of a closed flower shop. The pot was cracked, overgrown with wilted weeds. Arel felt a strange urge at his fingertips. It wasn't hatred he needed now, but something more measured. He took a deep breath, concentrating all the remaining emotions, the suppressed anger, the frustration of his ruined life, and the desire to prove he was no longer trash.

"Shatter," he muttered softly. Not with a shout, but with pure intent.

The flowerpot didn't shatter immediately. Instead, it vibrated, then floated a few centimeters off the windowsill before finally being thrown in the opposite direction, hitting a metal trash can with a deafening bang that left it dented.

"Too crude," Aelion remarked. The voice was so clear, contrasting with the chaos Arel had just caused. "You're using emotion like someone trying to put out a fire with gasoline. Focus, Arel. You are a translator, not a destroyer."

Arel snorted, cold sweat pouring down his temples. "Easy for you to say. You don't feel what it's like when this world keeps trying to step on you."

He walked toward the broken pot, kicking the shards with the tip of his shoe. Suddenly, a crazy idea came to mind. He didn't want to destroy inanimate objects. He wanted to test how far this gaze could work without the involvement of exploding emotions. He looked toward the street lamp still burning brightly at the end of the alley. He didn't hate it. He just wanted to know if he could turn it off without needing negative feelings.

"Die," he whispered flatly.

The light didn't go out. Instead, the bulb exploded with small sparks, but it actually turned a painful neon blue before finally returning to normal. Arel's eyes widened. Something absurd happened: the wires on the power pole began to coil around each other like mating snakes, creating a pattern that was technically impossible.

"Damn it! What was that?" Arel laughed bitterly. The situation turned from tense to completely nonsensical. His power felt like a child just learning to use a broken television remote, sometimes changing the channel, sometimes burning the device instead.

"You're forcing your will too much," Velkris giggled, the ink figure now floating beside Arel, touching the power pole with his dark fingers. "Ain needs stimulation. Without extreme emotion, you're just an ordinary person hallucinating. But give me a little fear, or a sweet bit of resentment, and I will turn this whole city into our playground."

Arel ignored the whisper and racked his brain. He had to learn. If he kept relying on extreme emotions, he would never reach Level 2, let alone Level 3. He thought of Lyxaria. Just thinking about that woman made his pulse quickened. However, this time, he didn't let that anger take over. He centered the image of Lyxaria in his mind. He visualized her sitting in her office, staring at a stock screen.

Without a gaze, Arel thought. I don't need to see her.

He closed his eyes.

He visualized Lyxaria's workspace in vivid detail, the gold pen, the stack of reports, and the sharp scent of lavender perfume. He imagined a crystal glass sitting on that desk falling and shattering into a thousand pieces.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

Silence.

Arel opened his eyes. Nothing happened. He let out a long sigh, feeling ridiculous for trying something so impossible in the middle of a narrow alleyway that reeked of trash. "Lame," he muttered to himself.

However, just as he was about to turn away, the phone in his pocket vibrated. A news notification popped up: "Minor Incident at Venn Group Headquarters, A Crystal Glass from CEO Lyxaria Venn's Collection Shatters Mysteriously, Causing Brief Panic on the Executive Floor."

Arel felt his heart skip a beat. He read the news twice, then three times. His hands began to tremble violently. He wasn't there. He wasn't even looking at Lyxaria. He had only... thought about it.

"I did it," Arel whispered, his voice cracking with a wild mix of horror and euphoria. "I did it without even looking at her."

"Of course you did, you idiot," Velkris's voice now sounded right in his ear, cold and teasing. "Welcome to Level 2. Welcome to a world where you no longer need to be a slave to what you can see. Now, the world is your canvas, and every thought you have is the brush."

Arel felt his world expand. He was no longer limited by his line of sight. As long as he could visualize something sharply enough, reality would bend to his will. He looked down at his hands, which appeared ordinary, yet he knew those hands could now pluck destiny like the strings of a guitar.

"This is dangerous," Arel whispered, but a faint smile began to play on his lips. It was no longer the smile of the loser he used to be at the office.

Suddenly, he felt something. Another presence. Someone was watching him from a distance. It wasn't Lyxaria, and it wasn't Draeven. It was someone more neutral. Someone with an aura that felt... ancient.

Arel turned around quickly. At the end of the alley, behind the shadow of a large dumpster, stood an old man in tattered clothes that contrasted sharply with the dignity he carried. His hair was long and white, and his eyes were closed, or perhaps they weren't there at all. He stood there holding an old wooden staff.

"The Ain is like water, kid," the old man's voice was heavy, echoing through the narrow alley despite its low volume. "If you don't learn how to contain it, it will drown you in the very puddles you created."

Arel tensed up. He felt both of his Cupids suddenly grow calm. Aelion even seemed to bow his head, as if showing respect.

"Who are you?" Arel asked, ready to release his power if the old man made a suspicious move.

"Just a traveler who is tired of seeing the world destroyed by human ego," the man replied as he stepped forward. Each step was silent, as if he were walking on air. "My name is Sahrakel. And I have come to tell you one thing before you step any further into this rabbit hole."

Sahrakel stopped a few paces in front of Arel. Even though his eyes were closed, Arel felt as if the man was staring straight into his soul.

"You just touched Level 2, didn't you? It feels incredible, doesn't it? Like becoming a god in an instant," Sahrakel continued. "But remember this, Arel Virel. Every time you force your will upon reality, you are paying a price. And that price isn't money or possessions."

Arel watched the old man warily. "Then what do I have to pay?"

Sahrakel smiled, a smile full of sadness and wisdom. "Yourself. The more often you use the Ain to change the world, the less of 'Arel Virel' remains. In the end, you won't be human anymore. You'll just be a tool used by the entities behind you to translate desires you aren't even aware of."

"Nonsense," Arel interrupted. "I am the master of myself."

"Is that so?" Sahrakel pointed to the shadow behind Arel. "Look at your shadow. Does it belong to you, or do you belong to it?"

Arel looked back. He saw Velkris crawling on the ground, and the shadow no longer followed Arel's movements precisely. It was as if Velkris had his own consciousness, dancing in patterns that grew increasingly wild and dark. Arel felt a wave of intense dizziness. He tried to control Velkris, trying to force the shadow back into position, but he failed.

"He's starting to realize, Sahrakel," Velkris's voice echoed, not inside Arel's head, but in the air, filling the alley with a threatening sound. "He's starting to understand that he isn't the boss. He's just a vessel. And this vessel... it's already too full of resentment to just be thrown away."

Arel fell to his knees, his hands clutching his own head. The pain was no longer physical; it was an existential agony, as if his memories of childhood, of his mother, and of his sadness were being stolen one by one by the entity behind him.

"Stop it!" Arel screamed.

"I am doing nothing, kid," Sahrakel said calmly. "I am the one who warned you. But I suppose you have gone too far to stop."

Sahrakel spun his staff on the ground. Suddenly, a circle of light appeared around Arel, separating him from his own shadow. Velkris shrieked, a sickening sound like metal grinding against metal, and was thrown far against the alley wall. For a moment, Arel felt free. He felt light, as if the weight that had been crushing him for so long had been lifted.

But that freedom only lasted a second. Velkris rose again, his grin becoming even more horrific. Aelion, who had been calm, began to glow with a blinding light, as if he were preparing to attack Sahrakel.

"Don't interfere in our business, old man," Aelion hissed. The voice was no longer soft, but full of absolute authority.

Arel gasped. He never expected Aelion to speak with such a tone. He had always thought Aelion was his 'good' side.

"The two of you are two sides of the same coin," Sahrakel said, his voice remaining calm even as he faced two entities that were beginning to manifest into physical forms before his eyes. "And this coin is starting to lose its value."

Sahrakel looked at Arel with one last gaze full of pity. "Arel, if you want to remain human, stop now. Forget this power. Go back to living your life as a failure. That is far better than becoming something that has no heart."

"I can't!" Arel shouted. "I've already killed people! I've ruined my own life! If I stop now, what is left of me?"

"At least, you still have yourself," Sahrakel answered before he slowly faded away, as if he were nothing more than a projection of dim light. "But if you keep going, you won't leave anything behind but emptiness."

Sahrakel was completely gone. The alley returned to silence. Only the sound of water dripping from a broken pipe could be heard. Arel stood there, panting, surrounded by Aelion and Velkris who were now staring at him with hunger.

"He's gone," Velkris whispered. "And now, we can continue our game, can't we?"

Arel stared at his own shadow on the ground. He saw himself, but he no longer recognized that face. Was he still Arel Virel? Or was he just a shell being rented out to two entities hungry for destruction?

He looked toward the dark end of the alley. He remembered what he had just done, breaking Lyxaria's glass from a distance. It was the most intoxicating sense of power he had ever felt.

Could he really throw it all away just to go back to being a failure who was always mocked?

No. Arel wasn't going back.

"Keep going," Arel whispered to his entities, his voice now cold, flat, and completely devoid of emotion.

Velkris laughed with satisfaction, and the shadow merged back into Arel's body, deeper than before. Something inside Arel died that night, and something far darker had just taken the wheel. Arel walked out of the alley, his eyes glowing with two contrasting colors, stepping toward a city that had no idea it was being ruled by a man who no longer even had the desire to be human.

And in the distance, atop the tallest building, someone was watching Arel's every move through a monitor, recording every heartbeat and energy shift. Lyxaria Venn smiled.

"The game has only just begun," she whispered while sipping her red wine, while before her eyes, the data on Arel Virel showed numbers that continued to surge uncontrollably.

Arel didn't know he was being monitored. He only knew one thing, tonight, he would make this entire city kneel, or he would burn it all to ashes. That choice no longer felt like a burden, but a necessity.

He was Ain, and the world was a mirror he was ready to shatter into a thousand pieces.