Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation Chapter 3: Falk City

A biting northern gale slapped against Kyrian’s face while he drew near the caravan.

At the village's edge, three wagons stood ready. A group of men stuffed sacks of coal into two of them until they brimmed over.

The final wagon loomed bigger, draped under a heavy canvas, meant to carry travelers.

Soft snow swallowed his footsteps as he trudged forward, his slightly heavier pouch thumping at his side.

"I want to go to the city." Kyrian rested his hand on the bag and fished out a handful of copper coins.

Odd looks crossed the men's faces. Then, the figure by the big wagon hopped down and strode over to Kyrian. He scowled down at the boy, yet reached out his palm anyway.

"All right. Ten copper coins. Food along the way will be on us."

Without a second thought, Kyrian passed over the coins. It was every last bit he'd gotten from selling his house to the village chief.

He didn't mind at all—his only goal was making it to Falk City.

He clambered aboard. Seven others crammed onto the rough wooden seats beside him.

Among those seven, six were grown men, their faces grimy and worn from hauling coal to the other wagons. The seventh was a girl roughly Kyrian’s age, eyeing him with wide-eyed wonder.

Yet tinged with fear too. When Kyrian met her gaze, she ducked behind her father's arm.

She'd caught tales of a village boy with accursed eyes, said to make anyone he looked at disappear from existence in an instant.

Kyrian picked up on her terror and chuckled inwardly. After so many years, he'd grown numb to it.

The caravan soon rolled out.

...

Days flew by in a blur. Kyrian remained silent throughout, perched at the rear for a clear view outside.

An unbroken trail of snow stretched forever, barren of anything else. The village vanished from view in no time. Beyond the drifts, emptiness reigned—he truly puzzled over why folks bothered living there.

Then came the little girl's voice chatting with her father right ahead.

"Dad, what is the city like?"

The man ruffled her hair playfully.

"Many times bigger than Frosty Village. Surrounded by tall walls, stone streets... and lots of people."

"Really, really? Then why don’t we live there?" The girl asked excitedly.

"... If we could. One day you’ll understand." The man sighed.

Kyrian observed in silence. Strange.

Day by day, the landscape shifted. The relentless snow road narrowed gradually.

Bits of dark soil peeked through bit by bit. The real shift hit when the scattered white trees lining the way yielded to dense woods. The caravan trailed an old, signposted route.

Kyrian took it in: those trees dazzled, leaves turned golden. Never before had he laid eyes on non-white trees.

With nightly halts and occasional crawls, the trip dragged on for nearly three weeks.

’I’ve been absorbing these strange particles all this time. But it seems the limit is much higher now. I don’t think I’ll reach the limit anytime soon.’

’But I need to find out what these things are. I feel they’re not simple.’ Kyrian pondered just as the caravan braked sharply.

"I’ve spotted the city walls. Be ready to get down and work quickly." The driver called, whipping the horses onward.

Half an hour later, the wagons ground to a halt. Kyrian hopped off alongside the other seven men, leaving the little girl behind in the cart.

"You stay here, unfortunately, I can’t take you inside the city. Don’t leave the wagon, and if anything happens, yell for the soldiers." Her father instructed, planting a kiss on her forehead before joining the rest.

The men shot stranger glances at Kyrian as he dismounted.

’What is he doing? He wants to enter the city? Doesn’t he know?’ The girl’s father wondered, staring at the kid now among them.

Kyrian paid them no mind, eyes fixed on the caravan boss heading to the pair of guards at the gate.

Their words escaped his ears, but their lip movements revealed everything crystal clear.

"Only coal carriers enter. Leave everything at the warehouse, and payment will be here by night."

Grasping it all and spotting the owner heading back, Kyrian darted to a coal wagon.

He seized a sack dwarfing his body without pause. The others froze mid-motion, eyes bulging and mouths agape. Words died on their lips as Kyrian marched straight for the gate.

Time pressed, so they hustled after him.

The guards gawked at Kyrian like some oddity, but it wasn't their concern—they waved him through.

The moment he stepped inside the city, his eyes flew wide.

A new array of scents assaulted him here. Soot mingled with sizzling meat and unfamiliar aromas. Towering gray stone walls enclosed countless red-roofed structures. Shouts and the clang of blacksmith hammers filled the air.

After strolling the main street for merely five minutes, they ducked into an alleyway.

During that brief span, crowds bustled by, some shooting disdainful looks at the group, while others ignored them completely.

Within the alley stood a massive warehouse, watched over by a spear-armed soldier dressed in the same uniform as the gate guards.

The soldier swung open the stone warehouse door, letting Kyrian and the rest unload the coal sacks before heading back for more.

It was then that Kyrian finally spoke since hopping on the cart.

"Why do they treat us like this?" Kyrian questioned the little girl’s father.

"Oh, I thought you were mute. So you can talk. If you’re talking about the soldiers and the city people... it’s because we’re forbidden to enter here..." the man answered calmly at first, his tone turning sad by the end.

"Frosty Village was founded by exiles, people who were expelled from the city of Falk to die."

"Exiles?"

"Yes, maybe due to theft, murder. Nobody knows. Over a hundred years ago, families were sent to die in the forbidden land area."

"But luckily, we found a place where carnivorous animals didn’t live. That’s why we’re still alive today. Also, because we found a coal mine, now they tolerate trading with us." The man wrapped up.

Kyrian listened intently, his brow creasing in a frown.

’Forbidden land? Why?’

Intrigue stirred in Kyrian, mingled with an odd discomfort. Turns out, every villager had been condemned to death. His village was truly a forsaken outpost.

’No, I don’t have to worry about them, they can fend for themselves. The only thing I need to do is survive and become stronger. The village no longer matters.’ Kyrian resolved steadfastly in his thoughts as his gaze shifted to the soldier.

The soldier seemed utterly bored, his eyes turned elsewhere with little interest.

Without a moment’s pause, Kyrian dashed off right then.

His slight frame melted into the city’s cramped alleys, staying hidden till night descended. His outfit blatantly marked his origins, so a change was essential.

More than anything, he needed to remain in the city to secure lodging, grasp the bigger picture, and above all, unravel the secrets of his eyes.

Night cloaked Falk in silence. Only scattered drunks and patrols filled the streets, all effortlessly evaded by Kyrian. His night vision shone as bright as daylight, revealing every detail crisply.

He pressed on until stepping back onto a main avenue. Scattered among the houses were odd structures whose functions escaped him. Torches pierced the gloom, but even dead center on the road, tiny Kyrian would slip unseen.

Further along, a city wall came into view.

Barely two and a half meters high, it concealed a grand building beyond, which Kyrian recognized at once.

A silver spear emblem graced the building—the same as on the soldiers’ uniforms. This had to be their home. Tracing the wall, he soon reached the entrance.

Beside roaring torches, two spear-wielding soldiers stood sentry, gazes dull and forward. One yawned lazily while the other chatted idly.

Kyrian froze in his tracks, locking eyes on a soldier’s moving lips.

"The recruitment is early today, isn’t it? They say we need more men after the bandit attack."

"Yes, all the city’s sixteen-year-olds will be tested. I don’t know how many will pass, but there will be more rookies in the house, maybe we won’t have to guard here anymore." The other replied.

’Recruitment?’ Kyrian mused inwardly. A sly smile crept across his face, hinting at a spark of inspiration.

...

The night crawled by tediously until dawn broke. With the first rays, Kyrian emerged from hiding, sauntering toward the soldiers. He’d traded his winter clothes for the single spare in his bag, abandoning the filthy ones.

Seeing the boy draw near, the soldiers shared a glance; one strode forward to confront the child.

"Did you come to report something? Is there a problem?" the soldier queried.

Kyrian didn’t hesitate a beat.

"I came for the recruitment."

...

"W-what? You came for what?" The soldier blurted, convinced he’d heard wrong. Behind him, the other erupted in booming laughter.

"HAHAHA, did you hear that? The brat came for the recruitment." The man bellowed, doubled over clutching his stomach.

The soldier facing Kyrian stared into those eerie eyes, finding them peculiar, yet irrelevant—the boy’s determination shone through.

"Little one, go away. This isn’t something you can do now. Grow until you’re sixteen, and then you can try the test. Until then, don’t interfere with our work." The soldier instructed, slapping a hand to his forehead in amusement.

He reached out with his other hand toward Kyrian’s shoulder.

"Come on, go home, brat, your parents must be worried abou-

The man’s words trailed off unfinished, for as soon as he laid a hand on Kyrian’s shoulder, he found himself unable to shift him even one step.

In the blink of an eye, before awareness dawned, his hand was seized tight, and in that moment, a colossal force dragged him earthward—something no child should possess.

His frame surrendered completely, dropping to his knees before Kyrian like a lifeless puppet.

"I said that. I’m here for recruitment. If I said that, it’s because I know I can join with my strength." Kyrian declared with steady calm.

Consequences of such an act against a soldier never crossed his mind or registered with him.

All he figured was that this feat would reveal his power, paving the way for them to approve his entry into the recruitment.

Yet the soldier viewed it far differently. Rage surged through his thoughts mere seconds after grasping the truth: a punk kid had compelled him to kneel before his fellow watchman. Just as he strained to stand and lash out at Kyrian anew, a voice icy with menace froze him in place.

A thunderous bellow exploded from behind them.

"Stop right there!" A resonant, booming voice echoed from the man who had observed the whole affair for quite some time.