Cross blinked hard, his breath catching as he willed his Heavenly Eyes to pull back from their microscopic focus on his skin. The overwhelming details—the endless layers of cells and the slowed-down perception of time—receded as he eased his gaze outward. The flood of stimuli lessened, and for a brief moment, he felt a wave of relief.

Then he noticed something strange.

The world around him wasn't just hyper-detailed anymore. It was… alive in a way he hadn't expected. The dim room, so mundane just moments ago, was now completely filled with particles—colored particles to be exact. They shimmered in the air, like tiny orbs of light that danced and swirled in chaotic yet seemingly purposeful patterns. It was mesmerizing.

There were reds, blues, greens, purples, a sprinkling of yellow, and an absolute cascade of silver and white particles that dominated the space around him. Cross blinked again, adjusting his focus to see if he was hallucinating or if this was some kind of side effect from overusing his new ocular abilities. But the particles didn't fade. They continued to swirl, drawn into the environment as if they were a natural part of it.

"Wait… what the hell?" Cross muttered, stepping back, eyes darting to follow the intricate dance of colors.

The particles weren't random. They moved with intention, like a ballet of energy, all flowing in specific directions, each color blending into or repelling from one another. It was then that Cross remembered something.

The six classifications of power.

He hadn't thought about it before, but the six classes—Body, Soul, Mind, Will, Domain, and Unknown—could very well be linked to these particles. Cross's thoughts raced as he tried to recall what each class was associated with.

It was the most logical conclusion. But to test his theory, he needed to identify which color correlated with which class.

He started with what he assumed was the most basic and straightforward classification: Body. If the Source particles were linked to their respective classes, then it made sense that the particles closest to his physical form—his body—would be connected to the Body classification.

Cross focused on the red particles. They seemed to orbit closest to him, their glow pulsing faintly as if they were tied directly to his form. "The red ones… could that be Body?"

He had expected the particles associated with Body to be white, symbolizing something pure and foundational, but the red hue made sense too. Red was strength. Red was life. It fit.

Still, he had more testing to do.

His eyes flitted between the other colors: blue, green, purple, yellow, silver, and white. Each moved differently, occupying different spaces in the room, as if they were drawn to particular objects or flows of energy.

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"The green ones," Cross muttered, watching them dance in small clusters. "Soul, maybe?"

He moved on, trying to identify the rest. The blue ones—Mind? The purple particles—Will? The silver and white, perhaps, connected to the unknown forces that he hadn't even begun to comprehend?

As he continued to watch the particles shift and flow, a sharp, searing pain shot through his eyes. His vision flickered, and a sensation like burning daggers pressed against the back of his skull. Cross immediately remembered One's warning.

Don't use them for too long… or all at once…

"Shit!" he gasped, stumbling back as his eyes throbbed with pain. The particles blurred, their colors bleeding into one another, as if his vision was tearing itself apart.

His brain screamed at him to deactivate the Heavenly Eyes, but in his panic, Cross realized he had no idea how to turn them off. He had willed them into existence by instinct alone—what if he couldn't reverse it?

The searing pain intensified, his vision flickering as if his eyes were about to pop out of their sockets. "Come on, come on, deactivate!" Cross muttered through clenched teeth. His hands instinctively shot to his face, rubbing at his temples as if the pressure would make the pain go away.

Then, a memory clicked. The feeling he'd had when he activated his eyes. The will. It was like flipping a mental switch. Maybe… maybe if he just willed them to deactivate, the same way he'd activated them…

Cross shut his eyes tightly, squeezing them shut, and focused. Off. Turn off. Deactivate. Anything. He tried to repeat the sensation, willing the burning in his eyes to fade.

Slowly, the pain lessened. The pressure on his skull began to release, and when he cautiously opened his eyes again, the particles were gone. The world returned to normal—dim, unremarkable, and bland. His eyes were just eyes again.

Cross staggered, his legs giving out from under him as a wave of disorientation crashed into him like a tidal wave. His stomach churned violently, bile rising in his throat.

"Oh no—no, no, no—" He barely made it to the bathroom.

The stench hit him first. The toilet reeked of sweat, mildew, and something far worse. The combination only made the nausea worse as Cross collapsed in front of the toilet, retching violently. His body convulsed, his stomach forcing out every bit of its contents in one horrible wave.

He coughed, spitting the last bits of bile into the bowl, his chest heaving with the effort. "Why… does this always happen to me?" he groaned, his head resting against the cold toilet seat.

Was One watching him? Laughing his godly ass off at Cross's misery?

Cross could picture it. That stick figure sitting in some divine chair, cackling like a maniac while Cross emptied his guts into a filthy toilet.

"Of course," Cross muttered between retches. "It's always the ocular power guys… they always have to deal with this crap."

He'd read enough fantasy novels and watched enough anime to know that awakening eye powers never came without drawbacks. It was practically a rule. He should have known better. He did know better. And yet here he was, puking into a toilet after overloading his shiny new powers.

Cross coughed again, the burn of bile still in his throat. His head was spinning, his eyes sore from the strain of using the Heavenly Eyes for the first time. As he leaned back, trying to steady his breath, he couldn't help but think about the sheer insanity of everything that had just happened.

"I've got to get the hang of these powers," he muttered weakly. "Before they kill me."

He couldn't deny it, though—despite the pain and the vomiting, part of him was still excited. These powers, as dangerous as they were, were also incredible. The potential was limitless. He just had to learn how to control them. Properly this time.

But for now, all he wanted was to rinse out his mouth, lie down, and pretend he wasn't feeling like he'd been hit by a truck.