Free Web NovelChapter 7: Chapter 7: Eyes That See Everything
The notifications hit him mid-leap.
Lucian was sailing over a gap between two rooftops — three meters of empty air, the street far below crawling with grey bodies — when the system chimed in his consciousness like a bell in an empty cathedral.
╔═════════════════════╗
║ ⚔ COMBAT NOTIFICATION ⚔ ║
║ Combat concluded. Targets eliminated during escape: ║
║ • Normal Zombies slain: 6 ║
║ Reward: +60 EXP ║
║ • Early Neophyte Zombies slain: 2 ║
║ Reward: +100 EXP ║
║ TOTAL EXP GAINED: +160 EXP ║
╚══════════════════════╝
He landed on the next rooftop, boots scraping against loose gravel, and kept running without breaking stride.
╔═════════════════════╗
║ ⚠ BLOODLINE REACTION ⚠ ║
║ Combat stress + consecutive kills have accelerated bloodline resonance. ║
║ Bloodline Seal: 96% → 95% ║
╔═════════════════════╗
║ ⚠ WARNING ⚠ ║
║ Bloodline Seal has reached ║
║ 95%. FULL VAMPIRIC TRANSITION is now available. ║
║ Effects of transition: ║
║ • Permanent physical changes ║
║ • Fangs become fully fixed ║
║ • Sunlight weakness intensifies ║
║ • Blood dependence increases ║
║ • Senses enhanced further ║
║ • Strength/Agility boost ║
║ • Skin becomes pale ║
║ • Eyes gain permanent crimson tint ║
║ • Process IRREVERSIBLE ║
║ Initiate transition now? ║
║ [YES] / [NO] ║
╚══════════════════════╝ ╚══════════════════════╝
Lucian’s foot hit the next rooftop
But not now.
"Not yet," he muttered, dismissing the [YES] option with a thought. "I have shit to do first."
The notification faded, the [NO] selection registering silently.
Lucian resumed running.
Rooftop after rooftop, the city of Lyon spread out below him like a burning map. Fires still raged in the western districts. The screams had grown fainter over the past hour — not because people had escaped, but because there were fewer people left to scream.
He leaped across a wide avenue, clearing ten meters of empty air with ease, and landed on the flat roof of an apartment building. His silver hair whipped in the wind, and his enhanced eyes scanned the streets below.
There.
A familiar intersection. A cracked fountain shaped like a angel — one wing broken off, the other blackened by soot. Beyond it, a narrow cobblestone street lined with old stone buildings, their facades weathered by three centuries of post-Cataclysm wind and rain.
Evangeliste Street. Two more blocks.
Lucian moved.
The horde behind him had fallen behind. Zombies weren’t climbers — the normal ones, at least. The Neophyte ones could manage it, but slowly, clumsily, their dead bodies not built for vertical movement.
He was safe. For now.
The system chimed again.
╔════════════════════╗
║ ★ SYSTEM LEVEL UP! ★ ║
║ Level 4 → Level 5 ║
╚════════════════════╝
║ NEW FUNCTIONS UNLOCKED: ║
║ ├─ ◀ EYES OF THE ETERNALS ▶║
║ │ Passive sensory ability. ║
║ │ See mana flows, cultivation realms, bloodline markers, hidden power levels, and weak points in targets. Can view other individuals’ status including abilities.
║ │ Current range: 50 meters. ║
║ └─ ◀ SYSTEM SHOP ▶ ║
║ Accessible via status window. ║
║ Currency: System Credits ║
║ (Earned through quests, kills, and future methods). ║
║ Current Credits: 0 ║
╚═════════════════════╝
╔═════════════════════╗
║ SYSTEM LEVEL: 5 ║ ║ EXP: 105 / 1000 ║ ╚═════════════════════╝
Lucian stopped running.
Eyes of the Eternals.
He stood on the rooftop, the wind tugging at his bloodstained clothes, and activated the ability.
It was like someone had flipped a switch on reality.
The world... changed. Not visually — the buildings were still there, the fires still burned, the zombies still shambled in the streets below. But overlaid on top of all of it, like a transparent filter, was a web of information that his brain had never been able to process before.
Mana flows.
He could see them — thin, luminous threads of blue-white energy drifting through the air like currents in a river. They were everywhere — seeping up from the ground, drifting down from the sky, pooling in certain areas and flowing around obstacles like water around stones.
The fires below weren’t just fire anymore. He could see the mana feeding them — threads of energy being drawn into the flames, amplifying them beyond what normal combustion should produce.
And the zombies...
He focused on a normal zombie shuffling across the intersection below. A grey overlay appeared beside it, faint but readable:
[Normal Zombie | No Cultivation | Threat: Minimal]
An Early Neophyte zombie lumbered past it, still wearing its torn Hunter Guild vest. The overlay was different:
[Early Neophyte Zombie | Neophyte (Early) | Residual Mana: 350 MPU | Threat: Low]
"Holy shit," Lucian breathed.
He could see everything. Cultivation realms. Mana capacity. Threat levels. It was like having a library’s worth of intelligence information downloaded directly into his eyeballs.
This changes things.
He could identify enemies at a glance. Assess whether a fight was worth taking. Spot hidden cultivators who might be masking their presence.
Fifty-meter range, he noted. That’ll increase with level. But for now...
He looked down at his own hands. The ability worked on himself too — he could see his own mana flows, the faint crimson threads of bloodline energy weaving through the blue-white of his normal mana, the two systems coexisting in a way that shouldn’t have been possible. freёwebnoѵel.com
Later. Test it properly later.
He broke into a run again, crossing the remaining rooftops with renewed urgency.
The sign was still there.
DAWN’S LIGHT ORPHANAGE
Painted white letters on a wooden board, hanging by two rusted chains from a stone archway. The board was weathered, the paint chipped, one of the chains on the verge of snapping. But it was there — still standing, still recognizable, still the same sign that Lucian had stared at through tear-blurred eyes ten years ago.
He dropped from the rooftop to the street below, landing in a crouch on the cobblestones.
The orphanage was a three-story stone building.
Empty.
The street was empty too. No zombies, no bodies, no signs of struggle. Just... silent. As if whatever had happened here had already finished and moved on.
Lucian walked through the archway.
And the memories hit him like a physical force.
"This is your new home, sweetheart."
The woman from the Church of the Dawn — Lucian couldn’t remember her name, just her face, round and kind — knelt in front of him, her hands on his shoulders. She was trying to look gentle.
"Where’s Lena?" he’d asked. His voice had been small. Hoarse. He’d screamed himself raw during the journey from the village to Lyon. "Where’s my sister?"
"She’s... she’s in the medical wing, sweetheart. She needs special care that we can’t provide here. But don’t worry—"
"I want to see her."
"Lucian—"
"I WANT TO SEE HER!"
He’d broken free of the woman’s grip and ran. Running through the orphanage hallways, bare feet slapping on cold stone, screaming Lena’s name until his throat bled.
They caught him in the east wing. Two men held him down while he thrashed and screamed and cried.
"LET ME GO! LENA! LENA!"
The round-faced woman appeared above him, her expression no longer kind. Now it was tired. Resigned.
"Lucian, listen to me. Your sister is sick. Very sick. She needs medical attention that this orphanage can’t provide. She’s been moved to a special facility. When you’re older — when you’re strong enough — you can visit her."
"I’ll come back for you," he’d whispered that night, alone in his cot, staring at the ceiling. "I promise, Lena. I’ll come back."
And then Louisa Du Maurier had come, and the promise had been buried under ten years of torture and blood and submission.
But it had never died.
Lucian blinked.
He was standing in the orphanage’s main hallway. The same hallway he’d run down ten years ago, screaming his sister’s name.
It was empty.
Not just empty of people — empty of everything. The desks and chairs that had lined the hallway were gone. The notice board with its cheerful postings — "FIELD TRIP NEXT WEEK!" "BIRTHDAY PARTY FOR JAMIE!" — was bare, the cork pockmarked with old pin holes.
Lucian moved deeper.
The common room — empty. Couches overturned, cushions slashed, a thin layer of dust on everything. The kitchen — empty. Cupboards hanging open, shelves bare, a pot of something long-since rotted sitting on the stove. The dormitories — empty. Cots stripped of bedding, mattresses overturned, some bearing dark stains that Lucian didn’t examine too closely.
Where is everyone?
The orphanage had housed forty, maybe fifty children. Plus staff. Even in an apocalypse, there should have been bodies. Signs of evacuation. Something.
But there was nothing. Just... absence.
Think. The Church of the Dawn ran this place. If there was a threat, they would have evacuated. Moved the children somewhere safer. Somewhere with walls and guards and—
A sound.
Coming from deeper in the building — the east wing, if Lucian remembered correctly. The administrative offices. The storage rooms.
Voices.
Lucian’s head tilted, his enhanced hearing focusing like a lens.
"—stay behind me. No matter what. Understand?"
A young voice. Male. Trying to sound calm and failing.
"R-Ryan, I’m scared—"
"I know. I know, Mei. But I need you to be brave, okay? Just like I told you. Stay behind me."
More voices — younger, higher, trembling with fear. Five of them. Maybe six.
Lucian moved toward the sound.
He found the door at the end of the corridor.
It was closed. A bookshelf had been pushed against it from the inside, and Lucian could hear the shallow, rapid breathing of the people beyond.
He raised his hand to knock—
And stopped.
Eyes of the Eternals.
The ability activated automatically, and through the wood of the door, Lucian could see it — a faint glow of mana on the other side. Not much. Just a thin, flickering thread of blue-white energy that pulsed with the rapid heartbeat of whoever was generating it.
A cultivator. Early Neophyte.
He pressed his hand to the door.
"Open up." fɾēewebnσveℓ.com
Silence.
Then — a sharp intake of breath. The scrape of furniture being moved.
"I said open up. I’m not going to ask twice."
The bookshelf scraped aside. The door cracked open — just a fraction, just enough for one eye to peer through.
Lucian saw glasses first. Then a face — young, sharp-featured, pale with fear and exhaustion. Dark hair plastered to a sweaty forehead.
The eye behind the glasses widened.
Then it relaxed.
"Thank God," the young man breathed, and pulled the door open. "You’re not a zombie."
Behind him, huddled in the corner of what appeared to be a storage room, were five children. The oldest couldn’t have been more than twelve — a girl with dark hair and wide, terrified eyes. The youngest was maybe six or seven, a boy clutching a stuffed rabbit, his face buried in the girl’s side.
Lucian’s gaze moved from the children to the young man with the glasses.
And his eyes widened.
He knew that face.
The young man with the glasses straightened, pushing his glasses up his nose with a trembling finger. He managed a weak, shaky smile.
"I’m Ryan," he said. "Ryan Duncan. We’ve been hiding here for two days. Are you... are you with the rescue teams?"
Lucian stared at him.
Ryan Duncan.
"Oh," Lucian said, his expression smoothing into something unreadable. "Ryan Duncan."
The children behind Ryan shifted nervously. One of them — a small boy with red hair — tugged at Ryan’s sleeve.
"Ryan... who is he?"
Ryan didn’t answer. He was still looking at Lucian, and some of the relaxation had faded from his face, replaced by something cautious. Something uncertain.
"You..." Ryan said slowly. "You didn’t answer my question. Are you with the rescue teams?"
Lucian’s silver hair fell across his face as he tilted his head, and behind his eyes, the crimson tint seemed to deepen for just a moment.
"No," he said.
The room went very quiet.
